#was he posing to be so ridiculously beautiful here?

[worldsetfree]

Stardust Crusaders × Reader: How They Show Their Love

(Bonus character TBA, just getting this out for the sake of getting it out)

You've seen so much on this brief and crazy trip, but you've come to notice and appreciate the little things your beloved does just for you. They're crazy about you, and ready to show their love.

I. THE MAGICIAN

Muhammed Avdol comes to you to escape Joseph and Polnareff's loud, obnoxious energy. You are his peace amidst the chaos.

Not afraid to be silly in front of you, see the Judgement fight. But this man also has a bit of an ego and will hit ridiculous poses and do things to impress you. He will pull you into games or markets to show off.

An emotional boon, Avdol is always always willing to listen to you and your feelings. What kind of a sham fortune teller wouldn't be a good listener?

Alone and unguarded, Avdol will let his walls down to shower you with praise. He'll whisper to you and tell you that you're stunning, compelling, and a thousand other things he's noticed in his careful observation. He'll indulge himself and sink ever deeper into that adoration, into desire, and let it burn and consume both of you.

IV. THE HEIROPHANT

Is a fool. He caught feelings and does not have enough social xp to know what to do. He's not supposed to rush, but he wants to so very badly.

That being said, Kakyoin Noriaki is a very courageous person, so when the time comes, expect him to demonstrate his affection with gusto!

People buy jewelry for their loved ones, right? So what's wrong with him spending his life savings on you? Notice him, senpai! >:[

I headcanon that Kakyoin is incredibly touch-starved. He will seek you out in quiet moments and find comfort in your arms and adoration.

VII. THE HERMIT

Joseph Joestar is smothering in his affections! Expect an ambush!

Old fashioned man does old fashioned things. Flowers, opening doors, guiding you with a gentle hand. Chivalry at its finest, he claims. You are precious to him, and he will treat you as the finest china.

Is rich. Will flaunt it for you (you're worth it!). Diamonds on your wrist when you least expect it. Maybe it's not your style, but he wants you to feel as beautiful as he sees you.

Kind of obnoxious. Loves to tease. Still wily after all these years. Joseph strikes me as the type to sneak in subtle touches, nips at your skin, etc. when no one's looking. He'll drive you crazy all day and only reward you when you're finally, finally, alone.

IX. THE CHARIOT

AGGRESSIVELY NEEDS TO BE THE CENTRE OF YOUR ATTENTION. Jean-Pierre Polnareff is always going out of his way to woo you and impress you!

Is a knight, will be your knight. He's here to protect you from all that may harm a hair on your head. Expect Polnareff to be your champion, especially when you can't support yourself.

Only the finest of accommodations for you, cherie! That's why he's gone out of his way to get you the keys to the finest suite! (Note: this will cause fights with the other Crusaders.)

Of course, he's also very unsubtle about his desire to share those accommodations with you. He's won you the fanciest hotel room and somehow already beat you there, laying on the bed in wait. Where did he get the candles...?

XVII. THE STAR

I already wrote a whole thing on this, but 3taro in particular is a bit of a mess compared to his older selves. Edgy boy is still figuring all this romance stuff out. Give him time.

Kind of a tsundere. Expect many acts of kindness followed by backhanded comments to keep you at a distance. Bought you lunch, but you're dense for not taking care of yourself. He does these things to ease the anxiety he's incurred on this trip.

In this vein, he is your sole protector. Kujo Jotaro would like to know your location, and also be in that location, please. Watches you like a hawk to make sure you're safe (he finds your every move captivating).

Opens up to you in surprising moments. At this age, he often acts on impulse. You've done something ridiculous to win a fight with an enemy, and he's so completely floored by your boldness, your smile, that he's on you before he realizes what he's doing.

0. THE FOOL

Iggy is not going to chew your hair and torment you like he does the others.

"Don't pet me", but also will lay down with his back pressed into your side. Likes to snuggle.

You are the only one allowed in his space. This confounds the other Crusaders to no end.

Might even whip out the sweet eyes and demand stritches. Will kick his little foot when you do!

I'm back, I guess? Sorry, work consumed my soul so thoroughly that I became locked in my mind. Duwang Gang request next!

[bluelockmaniac]

reaction to you wearing a bikini - reo & nagi (separate)

ft. reo, nagi cw: mentions of gunfire (video games), fem! reader

reo

in preparation for an upcoming pool party with your friends, you had asked your boyfriend to accompany you bikini shopping at the mall. of course, reo, being the filthy rich man he is, agreed to take you to the finest boutiques (he wants you to look better than your friends).

reo followed you across the mall, patiently waiting as you window shopped at each clothes store. after picking out a large selection of bikinis without a care in the world, you hurried to the fitting room.

when you first left the room, his eyes widened like never before; he was entranced by your beauty- captivated by the way the lace ties hugged the sides of your hips ever so tightly.

"woah," he'd finally manage to say, "you look gorgeous..."

you giggled at his compliment and an hour later, you finished trying on all of the bikinis and had thrown them into your shopping basket.

"so, reo, which one looked the best on me? which one should i ge-", before you could finish your sentence, he cuts you off while waving his card in front of you. "all of them. you're getting all of 'em."

you give him a soft frown before pinching his cheek gently. "baby, i don't need twenty-three bikinis, i just n-"

your efforts were futile as reo was already talking to the lady at the cashier.

nagi

for the past thirty minutes, you've been on a facetime call begging nagi to come over so he could compare, rate, and choose the perfect bikinis for you. after all, summer vacation was right around the corner, and you had to prepare the ideal beach wardrobe that would enhance your appearance. so why was nagi refusing to come over, arguing it would be a hassle, despite your persistent pleading? "nagi," you sighed, rubbing your temples in frustration, "can't you just come over? you could bring your nintendo switch too, ya know?" "...nah, 'tis too much of a hassle..." he mumbles softly while concentrating on the rather graphic game running on his computer, flashing lights bouncing off his face and loud gunfire sounds distracting him from focusing on you. then a thought hit you, one that he wouldn't, more accurately couldn't, resist.

so, here you were, posing for nagi and changing into one bikini after another, after drawing his focus away from his ridiculous game and insisting he needed to concentrate on you. upon first noticing your silence, he wasn't concerned and shrugged it off indifferently- that was until he heard your voice calling him from the other end of his phone. "ta-da~" you'd croon, quietly laughing at the look your boyfriend wore—his lips were slightly parted, a light pink blush dusting his pale cheeks. "holy shit," he'd finally gasp, not realizing he was holding in his breath from the breathtaking sight of your half-nude body on his screen, "change into the next one for me, baby." to say the least, you were pleased with yourself for having managed to redirect nagi's attention away from his beloved video games and onto you.

comments are very much appreciated, thank you!!!

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

beautiful

pairing: boyfriend hyunjin x skinny fem reader

genre: comfort, soft smut

word count: ~2.2k

warnings: reader is insecure about her body, crying, pet names, unprotected sex

an: this is for the person that requested this in my dms (it won’t let me tag you but i’ll send you a message that i posted it!) and it’s also for @jsabimi (she didn’t necessarily ask, but i also wrote it for her lol i hope that’s okay) i really hope i did this one right. i am a chubby girl myself, so i don’t really have the reference for feeling too thin. im really nervous to post this but i tried my best to put myself in that frame of mind and i just hope it turned out okay. i hope it’s comforting because yall deserve that. ♡

masterlist • chubby girl version w chan

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

it was a normal sunday. soft lofi music played in the background as you bustled around the kitchen, cleaning up after lunch. your boyfriend had disappeared to his room, suddenly saying the urge to paint struck him and he must not ignore it. that was a normal thing for him, so you just chuckled and agreed. he hadn’t been gone but ten minutes when you could hear him calling.

“angel?” he called from down the hall. you continued wiping the counter with a cloth as you called back to him. “yeah?”

“could you come in here please?”

you folded the towel up nicely and sat it next to the sink, before padding your bare feet down the hallway. you poked your head in the room. hyunjin was at his desk, papers strewn across, paint tubes precariously perched on the edge. his hair was every which way, having run his fingers through it over and over. he turned when he heard you approaching.

“could you come here, my love?” he stuck his hand out, reaching for you. you smiled and crossed the distance of the room, placing your hand in his. he pulled you into his lap. he looked down at you with soft eyes and brushed your hair over your shoulder, exposing your neck. he kissed you there, gently, no hidden meaning or lust behind it, just a simple peck. “do you think you could pose for me?” he asked, kissing the material of your t shirt that covered your shoulder.

your stomach turned in knots. pose for him? like how? you looked at him. “i don’t know hyune..”

“please? i want to paint but i need inspiration.” he nuzzled his nose against the skin of your throat. “and you’ve never let me paint you before.”

he was right. and it was for good reason. him painting you meant you had to sit and let him look at you for who knows how long. just sit there and let him study your body. you didn’t think you could do it.

“why don’t you paint me some flowers?” you suggested.

“i’ve painted so many flowers.” he whines. “i want to paint you.”

tears started welling up against your waterline. you wanted to make him happy, but you really didn’t think you could do this. and that made you feel.. ridiculous. a single tear fell over your cheek and landed on his wrist. his head snapped up, analyzing your face.

“angel..” he soothed. “why are you crying?”

the acknowledgment of your tears only made them fall quicker, soft streams flowing down your face. he did his best to catch them with his fingers. “you don’t have to pose for me. i didn’t mean to make you cry.” he guided your head to his chest, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing gently. you sobbed quietly into his shirt.

“lovely, where is this coming from?” he whispered.

your hands balled in the material of his shirt, your head shaking back and forth, unable to get the words out.

“did i do something?” he asked. “let me help you.” he rubbed soft strokes across your back.

you took a deep breath, doing your best to calm yourself, before looking up at him. he was blurry through your tear filled eyes but you could still see the concern on his face. “posing for you.. is scary.”

he wiped your cheeks, petted your hair, did anything he could think of to comfort you. “why is it scary, my love?” he took one of your hands in his and squeezed. “it’s just me. there’s nothing to worry about.”

you looked down at your joined hands. “i don’t want you to look at me..”

an expression of pure confusion washed over his features. “don’t want me to look at you?” he thought about it for a second. “angel, i hate to break this to you, but i look at you all the time. it’s one of my favorite things to do.”

a watery chuckle escaped your throat at that. “but looking at me for a moment is different than studying me for a painting.” you tried to explain yourself. “i’m not.. pretty enough for a painting.”

“where in the world did you get the idea that you’re not pretty enough for a painting?” his heart hurt at your words. “if anything, you’re too pretty. i’m not sure my painting skills would do you justice.”

“you’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend.” you sniffled.

he thought hard about what he could do to make you see what he sees. how he could make you understand. he thought if you would just let him paint you or draw you, that maybe you could see. “do you trust me?” he asked suddenly.

you nodded without hesitation. you trusted him more than anyone else.

“even if it’s scary, trust me. okay?”

you nodded again, your nervousness growing.

he patted your thigh twice. “go sit on the bed for me.” he kissed your cheek before gently shooing you in the direction of the bed.

on shaky legs you did as he asked, awkwardly perching yourself on the edge of the mattress and facing him. he grabbed his sketch pad and a pencil and held them in his lap. “now take your clothes off.”

you eyes widened in fear. “hyune..” you said in protest.

“do you trust me?” he interrupted. you nodded again. “it’s just me and you, angel.”

your eyes welled with tears again as you grabbed the hem of your oversized shirt. it fit you more like a dress and that’s the way you liked it. it did its job to hide everything. but if you took it off.. everything would be visible. you started to spiral. has he ever seen you naked in the daylight before? maybe he doesn’t really know what you look like. would he think you looked bony? would he be disgusted?

“baby you’re overthinking.” he said. “i’ve seen you bare before, and you’re so beautiful. this is just a different setting. it’s okay.”

you wondered for a fleeting moment if he could read your mind. and with a deep shaky breath, you lifted your shirt over your head and dropped it on the floor. you had your eyes closed, you arms wrapped around your middle. the cold air giving you goosebumps.

“there you go, pretty.” he smiled. “now your pants.”

the pants seemed easy after your top was off. you kicked them to the floor, leaving you in just your bra and panties. you still had your eyes closed, not wanting to see his face, to see the disappointment that must surely be in his eyes.

you heard him exhale, a shaky sound. “now.. uh.. could you lean back? rest on your hands?”

you did as he asked, putting your hands behind you and resting on your palms. you felt fully exposed now. your body shaking with fear. you worried that your ribs were visible. that your hips were poking out. but you refused to open your eyes to check. keeping them closed was the only thing keeping you from panic.

he exhaled a shaky breath again. “my love.. you are breathtaking.” you could hear his pencil scraping against his paper, slowly and then quickly, slowly and then quickly, as he drew lines and shaded shadows.

after what felt like forever, sitting in the same position, you got lost in your own head, with your eyes closed and the rhythmic sound of his pencil, you felt peaceful. you didn’t notice him get up from his chair and cross the room. he knelt on the floor in front of you and reached out to touch your thighs. but he didn’t want to startle you. “angel..” he breathed out, a soft whisper.

you opened your eyes to find him kneeling between your knees, slowly bringing his hands to your skin. your breath hitched in your throat as his lithe fingers came in contact with your soft thighs. he gently spread them apart, his fingers ghosting up to your waist. he slotted himself between your legs, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you closer. he kissed your skin. kissed your hips at the hem of your panties, kissed your tummy just above your belly button, kissed your ribs under the cup of your bra, kissed your sternum. your hands found his hair, you insecurities slowly fading away with each kiss.

“you’re stunning.” he mumbled against your skin.

you shook your head no, unable to believe him, but loosing focus with him being so close.

“you’re perfect.”

he looked up at you through his lashes as he expertly unclasped your bra behind your back. he detached his lips from you to help you remove the clothing item and tossed it over his shoulder and onto the floor. his lips immediately returned to your skin. his tongue found your nipple, swirling and flicking. he watched as your head fell back, your mouth open. he was doing his best to commit it all to memory, doing his best to take in every detail so he could put it to paper later. he crawled up your body, his lips never leaving you, but traveling up. he kissed your collarbones, your neck, your jaw, and finally your lips, as he helped you recline back onto the sheets.

he kissed you deeply as he hovered over you, one hand supporting his weight, the other hand rubbing softly over your panties. you sighed against his lips, your body tingling. his tongue explored your mouth, he tasted of the coffee he had with his lunch.

your hands roamed under his shirt to feel his torso, running up and down the expanse of muscle. the hand he had in between your legs, gently pulled your panties to the side. he slipped his middle finger between your lips. “so wet baby..” he breathed against your mouth. “so beautiful.”

he slipped a finger inside, and then another, slowly pushing in and pulling out, curling them to touch that special spot inside. your nails dug into his bare shoulders, a gasp falling past your lips. he continued his motions, the sounds of your arousal floating in the air around you. and too soon for your liking, he removed his fingers and sat back on his heels. he looked down at you, admiring. and you could see nothing but love in his eyes. maybe a pinch of lust clouded his vision, but mostly love.

“you are so beautiful.” he ran his fingers over the skin of your tummy. “i could never paint this. i could never get it right. but god i want to try.”

he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down, along with his boxers, kicking them off. he slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it in the same direction of his pants, a growing pile of both your clothes on the floor.

he grasped himself in his hand, rubbing up and down, spreading his arousal along his shaft. “do you see what you do to me?”

“please..” you reached for him, quietly begging.

he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed himself in. his body fell on top of yours. one hand cradling your head, the other hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers together. his head was buried in your neck, kissing and licking your skin as he breathed in your ear. you moaned at the feeling of him inside of you. “my love..” he breathed. “so beautiful, my love.. fuck..”

his thrusts increased in speed and you fluttered around him. “feels so good..” you whined.

“you’re a goddess..” he kissed your neck and bit your earlobe. “i can’t last much longer.. cum with me.”

and with a sigh of his name, you let go around him, squeezing him, causing him to release inside you with a whimper.

he collapsed next to you, breathing heavy and kissing every inch of skin he could reach with his lips. he collected himself for a moment, enjoying this proximity, before pulling away and standing up. you admired his body, his muscled back, as he returned to his chair at his desk.

“where are you going?” you pouted.

“i have to finish the sketch.” he said, grabbing his pad and pencil. “i got too excited earlier while looking at you and couldn’t finish it.” his face flushed with his confession and you smiled, eyes falling closed in a state of bliss.

you were almost asleep when you heard him get up and return to the bed. he sat next to you and presented you with the sketch. you looked at the paper and then looked at him, shocked. you sat up and took the paper from him, tracing the lines with your finger. “hyune.. this is..”

“beautiful?”

you looked at him. it was. that’s what it was. it was beautiful. “this is me..?” you asked in disbelief. but of course it was. you could see it. it was clearly you. the point of your nose, the curve of your shoulder, he even added a little color on your cheeks and lips. it was definitely you and it was beautiful.

“this is how i see you.” he said. “and it doesn’t even come close to capturing how truly stunning you really are.”

and for the first time.. you kind of believed him. you could see it with your own eyes. a work of art in front of you. and you were sure that your insecurities would return. but now you knew, that in those moments, you could return to hyunjin. return to his sketch, and be reminded that you really are beautiful.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

��� pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

am i posting this at 11am on a tuesday? you bet i am. when inspiration strikes, you gotta roll with it. ik ive been posting a lot of ramblings and depressing shit on my blog recently and i really appreciate you guys letting me do that. am i back now? idk. i hope so. fingers crossed. ♡

[withleeknow]

rue de rivoli.

pairing: hyunjin x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, semi edited lol, a little sappy and very self indulgent and inspired by a very specific instance in that one hyunjin vlog in japan 🤷‍♀️ word count: 0.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

hyunjin might be the worst - and you mean it, the worst - travel partner.

it’s all because of that ridiculously expensive camera of his and the little hobby that he’s taken up on.

“hey,” he calls out softly, trailing a few steps behind you as he raises the camera up to his face again. “hold it right there.”

you huff out a breath in mild annoyance, blowing some hair away from your face as the air escapes from your lips.

“seriously? you’ve taken a gazillion pictures already. this is the third time you’ve made me stop in the past thirty minutes.”

“but the lighting is just perfect.”

“we’re only here for a few days! i can’t see all the places i wanna see if you keep making me stop every two seconds!”

it was cute at first, how he kept asking you to stop in the middle of the street to snap a photo of you. it made you blush every time he did, because he would take another brief moment to admire the final product on his camera’s display screen and tell you that even though the photo turned out great, it could never truly capture how beautiful you are through his eyes. then he’d press a kiss to your cheek or a swift peck to your lips before taking your hand and tugging you along, en route to the tourist attractions that you’ve yet to come across.

to be fair, it’s still cute, and despite your feeble irritation, you still let hyunjin take his photos every time he asks. mostly because he would start sporting a gigantic pout on his face, coupled with the way his eyes widen like a puppy begging for a treat.

“please? you look so pretty right now. pleaseee?”

you acquiesce - of course you do - because who can say no to a cute whiny hyunjin?

you roll your eyes half-heartedly, and a bright grin immediately spreads on his lips because he knows that he’s getting what he wants, the smile so brilliant that it brings out his whisker dimples and turns his eyes into adorable crescent moons.

he patters over to you on light footsteps once the shot has been snapped, proudly showing you his handy work even though you secretly think it looks the same as any other photo of you that he’s taken - sometimes it’s your side profile with your hair covering half of your face because you’re too awkward to look directly at the camera, sometimes it’s you in random poses because you’re never sure what to do with your hands while getting your picture taken.

“did you even take any photos of the scenery?”

hyunjin shrugs, pretty indifferent to your question. “yeah, a few.”

“a few? give me that, let me see... you’ve taken two hundred and sixty four photos so far and only a few are of freaking paris?!”

another shrug, then cue one of the corniest things he’s ever said to you in your entire life. “you’re prettier than paris.”

sure, it’s a massively cliché thing to say, and a teeny bit cringeworthy to hear if this were a sappy romance movie. but coming from him, you know the sentiment is entirely genuine because hyunjin is nothing if not one of the sincerest people you know.

it makes you short-circuit as you stare up at him. the sun behind him softens by a fraction as it starts to make its descent, and the slowly fading sunlight looks as though it’s found a home as his personal halo. to have someone as beautiful as him tell you that you’re prettier than the city of love itself is quite honestly a little surreal, no matter how long you’ve been together.

“that was the cheesiest shit ever,” you comment, pretending to gag but knowing perfectly well that he can see the rosy flush on your cheeks. you mutter something else - for good measure - along the lines of never going on a trip with him again.

hyunjin laughs that endearing signature laugh of his, then he twists the cap back on the camera lens and once again lets the device dangle from the strap around his neck. he pulls you toward him with ease and kisses you deeply with a smile on his lips, one that’s warmer than the parisian sun could ever hope to be.

no, hyunjin isn’t a great travel partner. yes, mostly because he takes up all of your time trying to take pictures of you instead of letting you freely wander to the spots that you’d spent a lot of time bookmarking on google maps beforehand. he might be the worst person you’ve gone on a trip with because when you’re travelling, you like to be productive with your time and be able to do everything you set out to do in the limited number of days you have.

but even then, maybe it’s not that terrible having to miss watching the sunset in front of the eiffel tower because more exquisite than all of the most renowned artworks displayed in the louvre and more enchanting than any view you can spot from montmarte is your hyunjin that you adore, who’s kissing you in the middle of a street which name you can’t even pronounce.

any irritation you had from before slowly melts away. you don’t even care (that much) that you’re in the city of love.

any city is love when you’re with him.

(even when he messes up your travel plans sometimes.)

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom @jisuperboard @wyzminho @amarecerasus @channection @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @judeduartewannabe @chanshyunjin @firelordtsuki (italicized = can’t tag)

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 04.03.2024]

[professorsnape394]

Day 4: "Me or Her?"

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC

Rating:😠🥰

Prompt: Torn

Summary: Severus must chose between his old life and his new life, or risk losing those closest to him.

A/N: Can't resist a good angsty moment. Writing this broke me a little bit in the best possible way. My heart was aching.

Warnings: alcohol.

Word Count: 2184

Credits to Gif Creator

Halloween had always been a difficult day for Severus. While the rest of the world gathered their friends to dress up in ridiculous costumes and gallivant around from door to door, Severus opted to stay at home, mourning the loss of his first love and childhood best friend.

He remembered that night like it was yesterday. It was the height of the First Wizarding War; The Dark Lord had learned of the prophecy and was setting out to murder any new parents with a son born at the end of July. Severus had begged Voldemort not to hurt her. Dumbledore had promised to keep her safe. At that point Lily Evans was the only person in his life who had ever saw the good in him. He needed her to be kept alive.

As it turned out neither wizard kept their promise to their most loyal subject, and Lily Potter was murdered on the 31st of October 1981 Severus was the one to find her; lying lifeless on the floor of her son’s nursery. Her son, who infuriatingly had survived the Unforgivable Curse that was meant to end his life, remained unharmed and wailing in his crib. Lily had not been so fortunate.

Snape fell to his knees beside her limp body, cradling her in his arms. Sobbing openly for the loss of his best friend.

Halloween marked this occasion every year serving as a cruel reminder of everything he had lost that day. So instead of celebrating like everyone else, he chose to drink.

The potions master kept an old photograph of himself and the young witch hidden away in the drawers of his desk. It depicted a moving image of the two of them side by side as young teens, posing and giggling hysterically at the camera. It was his tradition to set the picture on his desk once a year and drink himself numb on a bottle of Firewhiskey.

This year he had thought would be no different. The picture lay flat on his desktop, the uncorked bottle of alcohol stood beside it. Yet, he hesitated.

Without warning his office door swung open, revealing a stunning young witch dressed in a deep red velvet gown with flared sleeves stretching almost to the floor.

“Are you nearly ready honey, if we don’t leave now we’ll be late the party.” Her temporary vampire teeth peaked out through her blood red lips.

While his enchantingly beautiful wife was hard to resist looking at as she relaxed against the doorframe, a party on this night just felt wrong.

“I’m not coming.” He muttered, his hand automatically reaching for the bottle.

“But you promised…” She whispered, the grin dropping from her face.

“I’ve changed my mind, I think I’d prefer to be alone this evening.”

The hurt on his wife’s face could not be clearer; this wasn’t the first time he had let her down at the last minute.

“It’s time to move on Severus.” She removed her fake teeth, not wanting her next words to be slurred.  “If you always insist on living in the past, those here in the present will get tired of waiting on you.”

While she had always been sympathetic to her husband’s emotions, she couldn’t help but feel rejected by him. That if Lily had somehow survived that night, she would be the one standing in her place instead.

Severus stared down at the old photograph, not daring to meet his wife’s watering eyes.

“Answer me this, Severus, because I’m only going to ask it once. If she were here. If it was me or her. Who would you choose?”

The question shouldn’t have come as a shock to the man, he had always suspected it had been on his wife’s mind. But hearing it out loud came as a blow to his chest. He knew the answer but it would hurt him deeply to say it aloud. So instead, he loosened the cap of his whiskey, poured himself a large glass and drank until only a few droplets remained.

A frustrated sigh filled the room.

“I’ll be back around 11. If your still conscious enough, feel free to join me in bed.” She snapped, slamming the door behind her.

Severus buried his head in his hands. Of course, he knew his ritual was unhealthy, and now that he was married it was well past time that he stopped it. But still, he worried that by giving up this day that he dedicated to his young love, he was somehow letting her down yet again. That it was his fault she died and by letting this routine go, she was somehow dying all over again. He worried that his memory of her might be forgotten if he didn’t spend at least one day a year wallowing in his grief for her.

He drained a second glass of whiskey.

Snape had fucked up big this time, and now his worry was he was at risk of losing his wife, the only woman who had ever truly loved him back. 

Looking down the barrel of his third drink, Severus heard a faint knock on his office door.

“Come in.” He called out.

In bounded a girl no higher than his thigh, clad in shades of pink and purple tulle, paired with a set of translucent net wings and topped with a silver plastic tiara.

“Hi Daddy.” She beamed up at him.

“Hello sweetheart.” Severus picked the girl up by her armpits, placing her gently on his lap. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Eh, I’m a fairy princess, duh?” She mumbled, brandishing her pretend wand at him.

“Of course, you are.” He nodded in understanding. “And the most beautiful one at that.”

His daughter blushed appreciatively, but almost immediately fell into a look of disappointment.

“Mummy said you’re not coming to the party again.”

“That’s true, darling. Daddy has to stay home this year.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid I have things I need to do at home. But you and Mummy can still go to the party and have so much fun.”

“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “Mummy is always sad when you don’t come places. I don’t think she knows how to have fun without you Daddy.” The girl pouted.

Severus heart dropped in his chest. He knew his wife was disappointed in him staying at home, but he had always assumed she was out enjoying her time with her friends while he stewed in his self-pity.

“Doesn’t she dance with anyone at the party? I’ve never known your mother to miss out on an opportunity to frolic around a dancefloor.”

His daughter shook her head again, dark ringlet curls swishing through the air.

“She doesn’t even take part in the costume contests, which is rubbish because I bet she’d win every time. She just sits at a table all night watching everyone else have fun, it so boooooring.”

Severus’ mouth turned dry and he struggled to swallow past the lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe that the vibrant woman he had married would sit on the side-lines, dimming her light because of him. She was the life of the party, the one who went all in on everything she does, the one who makes everyone smile just by simply being in the same room them. She was everything he was not, which is why he loved her so much. He couldn’t bare the thought of her losing everything that makes her special because she always felt second best to a dead woman.

“Come with me.”

Severus took his daughter by her tiny warm hand and led her out of his office, but not before grabbing one last thing on his way out.

Yet another crack opened in his chest at the sight he stumbled upon in the kitchen.

His wife sat hunched over their dining table, sobbing into the palm on her hand, while tears poured down her cheeks, streaking her makeup as they fell.

“Y/N.” He croaked, laying his palm flat on her back.

The woman stiffened at this touch, quickly wiping away her tears and composing herself once more. She never let her husband see her cry.

“Oh, would you look at the time, sweetie.” Y/N gulped. “We better get going or else we’ll miss our chance to enter the costume contest, I really think we have a good chance at winning this year.” Her tone was unusually high pitched and alarmingly positive, but Severus could still hear the small sniffles she couldn’t repress every time she took a deep breath.

Y/N turned her back on Snape, rushing to the hooks by the door to grab her daughters coat and shoes.

“Y/N.” Severus repeated, his voice now full of pity.

“Like I said; we should be no later than 11, possibly earlier if this one has a sugar crash, but no need to wait up, I know you have more important things to do.” She didn’t dare even look in his direction.

Doing up the final button on her daughter’s coat, Y/N took her child by the hand and ushered her out the door.

“Y/N!” Snape said a final time, his tone firmer this time. “Look at me.” The woman froze on the spot but hesitated to face him.

Whispering in Delphine’s ear to go play, Y/N knew she couldn’t run from this conversation any longer.

Y/N forced her posture ramrod straight, tilted her chin up, took a long but shaky deep breath and finally turned to face her husband. It was obvious to him that she was trying her best to remain stoic, not wanting to show any weakness in front of the man who had none.

“You’ve made your choice, Severus. I can’t claim to understand it, but I’ll respect it. I know now that I’ll never be able to live up to the woman you first loved. I used to think that maybe if we were together long enough and I tried hard enough that I could be enough for you. I just wish I knew when I married you that would never be a possibility. I have always loved you, with every fibre of my being. I was foolish to think I deserved the same in return.”

“Y/N.”

“Stop saying my name. Please.” She squeezed her eyes shut tight, like it physically pained her to hear his voice. “Delphi deserves to have a stable home, so I’ll stay. But I can’t promise I’ll be the same woman I was. I’m sorry I couldn’t be enough for you.” A tear escaped Y/N’s eye, this time she let it fall. There was no need to be strong for a man who loved someone else.

“Shut up, you foolish woman.” Severus scorned.

“Excuse me? Don’t you dare talk to me like that I-”

“I made my choice a long time ago. I fell in love with an incredible woman. She was uncommonly kind, remarkably clever and surprisingly very funny. She had this ability to draw the attention of any crowd but somehow never made it about herself. Her smile could light up any room, turn any sad man happy. She would dance until her feet hurt, and then get up and do it again, even if it meant she had to go barefoot. She is singularly the most strikingly beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I made my choice a very long time ago, Y/N.”

“I appreciate your honesty but I don’t want to hear it.” Another tear fell.

Snape slowly stepped towards his wife. He could see her shoulders tensing with every tap of his heel on the hardwood floor.

Severus wipes away her stray tears with his thumb, cupping Y/N’s face between two hands.

“The woman I fell in love with is so stubbornly strong, she has spent the last five years hiding away her tears from me. And it hurts me deeply that she thinks she could ever be second best to anyone. The day I met you was the day I realised I had never truly felt love before.  There is no second place in my eyes, you have always been the only one for me.”

“But what about- “

“She was my friend.” He interjected. “And I failed her in the worst possible way. Just as I have done with you; by not showing you how much you mean to me, that changes today. I’m coming to the party.”

“You don’t have to.” She tried to escape his embrace.

“I want to.” He pulled her closer. “For you and for Delphine; the only two girls who have ever mattered to me.”

Reaching into his pocket, Severus revealed the old photograph of him as a teen. He felt his wife’s breath hitch at the sight of it. The source of all her anguish, one silly little picture he had obsessed over his whole life. He wouldn’t subject her to that anymore.

With one singular rip, Severus tore the portrait right through the centre, severing himself from the past.

“No more.” He promised. “I love you, Y/N. No one else.”

[mara-and-its-the-same]

let’s understand that this is Mara immediately post breakup so this means i get to have it as wild as i want it to be...but anyway, all i’ve been thinking about is rebounding with Danny, duh. Beyond suggestive, it's directly implied, 2k words and a big thank you to @frnchgirls, rose is a most gracious help. Enjoy 🥰

“What about like this?”

If anyone asked Danny the series of events that led him here, there would be no sane answer. Friday night he meets you at the Vandals’ bar, Saturday night he learns that you live in Chicago but were dating another Vandal in a different chapter and just suffered a messy break up, and by Sunday afternoon he’s got you posing on his bed with the brand new knowledge that before you got into that relationship you were a lingerie model until that guy made you quit. 

“Danny?” You ask him again, leaning on your elbows and one knee slightly bent to the side over the other.

He shakes himself out of his daydreaming to realize that reality is ten times better and hopes you don’t notice his dazed off gaze from your side of the camera. “Yeah?”

“Is this a good pose?” 

Kathy told you that you should get back into modeling, then offered Danny to help you practice, maybe get new photos to show some agents.  Neither of you were busy this weekend, so now here you are in a brand new soft blue babydoll negligee that she made you buy the minute she heard about the split, on Danny’s bed. 

God, how he washed those sheets and cleaned all over his apartment as soon as you asked if you could do it at his place. It hasn’t been so neat since he toured the place. But now there you are wanting him to tell you if you look good in your lingerie on his bed. But photography is his job, he’s a professional, he can do this.

He could do this, if his tongue wasn’t suddenly tied until he swallowed thickly. “Yeah, maybe you just lean back a little more?”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” He captures the picture and tries some more from a few different angles. “What about laying down?”

“Mhm,” you move a bit further down the bed and let your hair fall around you as best it could on its own. “Here?”

“Yeah, can I move your hair?”

“Yeah,” he rearranges your strands so they frame your face perfectly and look as effortless as possible.

“Gorgeous.” The shudder clicks right as he said it, so fast that he hits it a second time just to catch your smile when he says it.

“Really?” He catches the moment your face changes from eyes closed and sultry, to open and joyous.

“Beautiful.”

“Me? Or just your pictures? 

“You, and the pictures of you.”

“Thank you,” you roll over again and he gets one from another angle. 

It was never anything crazy, the sets you modeled. Just some odd jobs for more local boutiques, never anything obscene or ridiculously lavish. Danny refuses to believe that though. You make plastic rhinestones shine like diamonds. Machine spun cotton lace looks like hand threaded silk from Paris the second it touches your skin. 

“Do you think we got enough of this one?” you ask.

“I think so. I can get these developed and have them ready in a few days,” he starts packing his camera away. “What size did you say you wanted?”

“Oh I don’t know, but— Well actually I brought one more thing to try on. Unless you want to be done?”

He’s not sure how much more of this he can really take. How much longer can he be in the same room as you before he busts just from looking at you. 

“Yeah, sure- I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He tries not to stare as you slide of the bed and start looking through the bag you brought on his way out the door. 

3 minutes later your head is poked out of the door and into the kitchen, “Danny, you can come in now.”

Oh what a sight you are. The black nightgown reaches down all the way to your ankles, the silky fabric falls over your hips so perfectly, and the only thing between the air and your chest is a thin layer of the finest lace he’s ever seen. “I haven’t worn this in years.”

“That’s a shame.” He can’t believe he’s said that, especially in the tone he did, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t even wear it just by yourself. You must know how you look in it, how it looks tailored to your body in every square inch. 

“I know. But he didn’t like it. It’s vintage Chantelle, all silk. Didn’t know how to appreciate it properly.” You sit back on the bed again and just then he notices the slit up one side that just about nears the top of your thigh. 

You’re about to take a new pose when he asks you a most peculiar question. 

“I’m sorry?” You ask.

“Do you mind if I move you?” He says with more confidence this time and what a gift that he did.

“Sure.”

He sets the camera down on his dresser and comes towards you. With his hands on your shoulders— your nearly bare shoulders, his thumbs fitting perfectly just into the dips of your clavicles —he leads you to lay down against the pillows and rearranges your hair. He takes one of your hands and places it beside your head, the other he moves across your torso with your hand cusping your hip bone. He steps back a bit to consider your legs, with respect to the slit. After slowly, so slowly coasting down the length of your leg, he softly pulls one ankle down straight, and pushes the other slitted one up so that it is slightly bent at the knee and tilts it towards the other. 

He takes a second to look at you, really look at you, and he can’t believe anyone would ever try to keep you from this. 

Maybe he’s just getting to know your form, for the sake of the composition, you think. But only for a moment before you see him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, just for a second but you notice. 

Finally, finally, he takes the first picture of you like this. With the click of the shutter you’ve made your mind up, you decide to press your luck. “What if I like…” you bring the hand that was on your hip up to your mouth and bite the top knuckle of your index finger.

“Yes.”

“What’s the look you’re thinking though?”

“They’re your pictures. I’m thinking whatever you want me to think.”

“But you’re the photographer, the artist.”

“You’re the art.”

“Would you kiss me?”

He nearly drops the camera. “What?”

“They like when pictures tell stories, the story would be that I’m messy and ravished and the clothes are serving their intended purpose. If you’re alright with that?”

He so absolutely, most certainly, positively is more than just alright with that. “Yeah, ok.”

You push yourself back up on the bed while he positions himself at the edge. “So how do you wa—“ he’s cut off by your pull to his collar and the press of your lips. Surpassing his initial surprise he brings a hand up around you to hold your waist, and the other up to your jaw. Messy, you want it messy. And salacious, lascivious even. Beyond suggestive, obvious is what you need. He can tell from the way you continue to pull him into you even as his chest is flush against yours. 

You pull away panting for no more than a second to order “Get the camera off the bed.” How sweet of you to be concerned, he nearly leaps over you to put it on the nightstand and he’d like to say ‘if it were any less expensive’ he would have just thrown it, but he knows that the price of it wasn’t what stopped him, it was the fear of damaging even a single one of those pictures of you. 

As he’s leaning over you, you slide down a little further on the bed so he can reach you easier. Or maybe to muss your hair up a little more if it’s against the pillows, or any other excuse you could make to make it seem like this is all for the picture and not your own desires. 

From there it is licks, bites, tugs, sucks of lips. And you’re trying, you’re both trying to keep your hands out of it, but how could you when his hair is so soft and the back of his neck is the perfect shape for you to hold. And how could he when your skin is so perfect and your bare leg is right there.

“I want a hickey.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss my neck.” He kisses you twice more on his way to your throat and you can’t help the sound you make when he reaches the perfect spot. Already he has you gasping for air. “Oh god.” His hand slithers up the slit, sliding even higher in search of your hip bone or waist to hold. 

“Wait,” He lifts himself to be eye level with you, “wait—“

“Hm?”

“Sorry, just…You’re—This is real now, right?”

“Yes, yes, very real.” You rush to pull him back down to your lips and nearly crash noses with the way he rushes down to meet you. 

“Mmph,” he groans at the scratch of your nails across his scalp and just the sound makes your back arch. Moving down again, he passes soft kisses down the valley of your chest. You’re positive he can feel the beat of your heart through every inch of your skin. How you’ve missed this, being wanted, being adored. And how he’s missed crossing beyond the other side of the lens, the feel of sculpting another body just by the skill of his touch. 

As he’s pushing the side of your skirt up and away a sudden fear strikes you, “Wait!”

“What is it?” He immediately sits back and takes his hands away, looking into your eyes for any cause for concern.

“I’m so sorry, but I really don’t want to rip it.”

“Oh,” you see him immediately relax, “So…”

You make no answer, though you do sit up to your knees and move the skirt out from underneath you. With a gesture to the strap that has fallen off your shoulder, he finally gets the message. However, in the spirit of fairness, his own shirt is the first thing to go and before you have time to remember your original intent you both rise on your knees just to kiss again. You feel before you look while your hands roam his torso. 

And slowly, so slowly, through wandering presses, pulls, and squeezes, he reaches the sides of your thighs and takes your nightgown by the seams to lift it over your head. He takes it by the straps to hang by the corner of the headboard rather than tossing it to the floor. 

You guide him forwards as you move to your back again, his knee moves between your legs while his fingertips smooth along your jaw. His eyes dance around your face, and as embarrassed as he may be to admit it, he takes a fleeting glance down the space between your bodies. An idea flashes before him, a bold one, but at this point in the afternoon he’s not sure there’s much left that could happen between you two that’d be too bold. He reaches for the camera slowly enough that you knew exactly what he wants. You resist the instinct to shy away when you still see his soft gaze over the camera. The shudder clicks and he drops it back on the nightstand, “That one’s not making it into the book,” Danny smirks at his own teasing before leaning back into you to finish what he started with a smile still on his lips. 

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 64

part 1 | part 63 | tumblr masterlist | ao3

cw: angst, big gooey feelings

—

When Steve gets back to the boathouse, Eddie’s shaking like a leaf; has to touch Steve like a blind man, pat his hands all over his face and down his arms and across his chest. “Know I’ve— got no right to a-ask this of you,” he says through chattering teeth, “but… would you—?”

…Goddammit.

“Get over here,” Steve says. He draws Eddie into him; squeezes as hard as he can, one arm around Eddie’s waist, the other cupping the back of his neck — skin to skin beneath a mess of matted hair.

He says nothing.

There are things he could say; probably should say right now — things like ‘you tried to kill me’ or ‘I almost let you,’ or ‘you just left without saying anything, Eddie, how could you do that?’ — but it feels like treating a wasp sting when someone else needs a tourniquet.

Eventually, the shivering stops.

Eddie pulls back with a bashful expression. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They move to sit down on the floor — side by side, shoulders touching, toes over the edge of the hole in the floorboards. The water moves like ink beneath them, and Eddie looks so beautiful it makes Steve want to die. His hands twitch at his sides, the small, lovesick part of him begging to know why they stopped touching; wants so desperately to press his fingers to the dark circles under Eddie’s eyes. To sink them into his hair and never let go again.

Even though Eddie doesn’t want that.

Even though he left.

Pain zips behind Steve’s eyelids like lightning, leaves the taste of copper on the back of his scorched tongue. He reaches up and pulls his hair — sharp at the root; needs the distraction. Can’t let himself think about his stupid heart right now.

Whatever, or whoever, this Vecna thing is, Steve knows it feeds on grief. Feasts on it; scents sadness in the water like a shark chasing blood. He can’t just swim into the ocean and cut himself for sport. Not unless he wants to end up like Chrissy.

Eddie opens his mouth and offers Steve another knife. “You can say it, you know.”

His tone is gentle; probing — eyes earnest, chin tucked.

“Say what?”

“Ohh, y’know.” Eddie puts his chin in his hand; clucks his tongue. “Whatever’s got you all, uh…” He furrows his brow and pokes his tongue into his cheek, licking back and forth over the smooth skin inside. “I can take it.”

Steve schools his expression. “What if I don’t want to say anything to you?” It’s quiet. Level. Less heat than he intended.

Eddie’s hand comes up to his heart. Chin dipping lower, psychic damage sincerity in his ridiculous Bambi eyes, he locks Steve into his gaze.

Holds him there.

Holds him; nearly makes him squirm.

“Then I’d say I deserve that, too.”

The faintest flicker of a smile; a spark of flint in a pitch black room.

Steve can’t help but catch the flame.

His lips land on Eddie’s with all the delicacy he can manage, hummingbird wings beating away inside his chest. The kiss is soft. Almost timid. Fucking perfect when Eddie starts kissing him back; just feels right; memory slotting into place after weeks of amnesia. Fervent noises, pressing harder, every movement like an oath, Steve pours himself into Eddie — gets his hands back under his hair, tangles his fingers behind his neck and nestles his thumbs in the hollows behind Eddie’s ears. Lets himself come home.

Eddie pulls back enough to whisper, “Jesus Christ, I missed you.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

They both feel it — the bubble bursting. The prolonged whine of a balloon deflating to the floor.

Steve slips from the embrace, hugging his arms around his legs, listening to their harsh breaths in the stale hush that follows.

Eddie mirrors his pose. Taps his fist against the top of his other hand, rings clacking. “Shit, Steve,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m— I’m so fucking sorry. For all of it. For everything.”

“It’s fine,” Steve lies.

It isn’t.

Nothing ever is, these days.

—

part 65

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[notjustjavierpena]

Meadow (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

Summary: Javier hears you singing to his newborn.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, sugary fluff, Javi POV, babies!

Word count: 850

Meadow

Javier tries to be quiet as he returns to you, carrying a stuffed Eeyore in his hand while listening for the sound of Inés' unhappy hiccups. He calculates his steps on the ground to make sure not to step on a twig or a branch, the crackle of it sure to distress his newborn even more.

He finds that the tall grass dotted with wildflowers and the soft earth is forgiving of his feet, so much so that his presence goes completely unnoticed by you. He never knew that this spot existed, having always treated the road as nothing more but a road until you showed him that its surroundings were so much more. There’s a metaphor somewhere in that, something about him just passing through and you making him able to stop and take a look around. 

The sun is warm on his exposed skin, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and you have convinced him to leave the jeans for a pair of comfortable slacks instead. He checks the time to see how long he has been gone and it’s nothing more than a few minutes, realizes that the sun is starting to fade from being at its highest point today. 

As he draws nearer to the spot you chose, Inés’ cries have died down completely until they are not heard at all. Instead, it is the soft sound of your voice that drifts through the air to him. You are singing quietly to his daughter, a lullaby that he remembers having heard before in a distant memory of his own childhood. 

A breeze rustles the leaves of the oak tree you sit beneath, its crown of leaves protecting you both from direct sunlight. As if forced by nature to relax, he hears the birds chirping too. This is peace and contentment, he thinks, and how wonderful it is to do nothing with the people that he loves the most. 

When he finally spots you, he finds you sitting on the blanket you brought with your sweater tucked underneath your slightly bent knees. Inés is resting in your lap, cradled by your soft arms, and sleeping soundly with her tiny fingers curled into fists. You are so beautiful as you stare down into his daughter’s blissful face, your smile even warmer in the soft glow of the sun. 

Occasionally, you run a thumb over the length of her nose but you never stop singing to her. The stuffed animal seems a waste of time now but if he hadn’t gotten it from the car, he would have never caught you like this. 

How has he gotten so lucky, he wonders, to have such an incredible woman to be the witness of his life? He cannot believe how sentimental you have made him, his chest aching as he watches your beauty grow even further as it is enhanced by the nature around you. More than a decade in Colombia and he thought he would never feel anything again. How ridiculous a thought that is. 

When he finally makes himself known again, bursting the bubble of quiet admiration he has been in, you turn your head when he kneels down beside you. You stop singing but Inés sleeps on.

Without a word, you notice Javier and then smile until it widens into a grin on your face that outshines the summer sunshine. He smiles back and places Eeyore on the ground in front of you, purposefully posing him to stand in the grass because you always hate when he is careless about stuffed toys. 

“I hope he doesn’t mind getting left in the car,” he whispers as he makes sure Eeyore won’t tip over, “Sorry it took a bit.”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, “You have made it up to him; grass is his favorite.” 

“Papá! There are frogs here!” Suddenly, his four-year-old son emerges from somewhere in the tall grass, carrying a stick in his hand that he seems to be using as a sword. He grins widely as he approaches the three of you, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he walks quickly on the uneven ground and Javier holds out his hand in case he has to catch him.

“Careful, Muchacho (young man),” Javier chuckles, “You might scare them away if you trip.” 

“I found the biggest frog ever!” Lucas brags and falls into his father’s embrace, throwing his arms around his neck, “I want to show you!”

Javier looks at you to silently ask if you need him. Lucas presses on, “Come on, Dad!”

Inés fusses a little at being woken up by the noises around her. You take the stuffed animal and wiggle it in the air in front of her. You start singing again. It is something about meadows and daisies, something about being warm and kept from harm. 

“Go,” you stop briefly to urge him, “We’ll be here when you come back.”

And as Javier gets up from the ground and takes his son’s hand, he smiles because he knows that you will.

.

.

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[girlyrafe]

it’s snowing ray.ᐟ

ʚɞ a december to remember

𖢔 notes: I keep writing things I don’t like but anyways grumpy Rafe can never last + this one being posted a little late sorry

── .✦ advent .ᐟ

summary: for once it actually snows and excrement it actually an understatement when it comes to you so you just have to go out in in all day

ᯓᡣ𐭩

Finally. Finally, it was snowing.

It wasn’t just any snow, though. This was the snow. The kind that makes you feel like you’ve been waiting for it your entire life, even if you didn’t realise you were waiting until it was right there—perfectly soft, perfectly fluffy, and falling so gently from the sky that it almost felt like a secret only you knew. 

You’d woken up in Rafe’s bed like usual—no rush, no plans, just a cosy morning ahead. Wrapped in the warmth of the sheets, you’d been nursing a mug of coffee, lazily soaking in the quiet, sleepy atmosphere of the room. Then, still wrapped in that sleepy haze, you’d glanced out the large windows—and there it was. Snow. 

Not the sad little dusting that disappears before you even make it to the door, but real snow. Actual, magical snow. The kind that makes you want to shout, “I knew it! This was supposed to happen!” You could practically hear the soundtrack playing in the background as you watched the world turn into a snow globe.

Your heart leapt. Without even thinking, you scrambled out of the bed, missing the floor once or twice as you stumbled toward your clothes. It didn’t matter. You dressed like you were preparing for an Arctic adventure, throwing on the cosiest layers you could find, your excitement bubbling up with every button you fumbled.

Then, you were out the door, charging down the front steps like a snow-happy tornado, giggling as cold air slapped your face. You couldn’t help but grin like a kid who just discovered a secret passage to Narnia. Sure, the cold was biting, but it didn’t matter—every snowflake that landed on your cheeks felt like it was telling you, "This is the best day ever."

You skipped through the yard, leaving a trail of footprints in the fresh snow—your own little map of joy. You even made a snowman, though he was more of a lumpy snow blob with a stick for an arm and a crooked smile. But hey, he had character.

Time melted away as you tossed snowballs, twirled around, and lost yourself in the pure bliss of it all. Then, just when you thought the day couldn’t possibly get any better, you saw it. Rafe’s car—gliding down the street like it had been sent from the heavens, just to make your snow day even more perfect. 

Your heart did a happy little flip as the SUV pulled up. You plopped down in the yard, crossing your legs in the snow and waiting eagerly for him. And when he finally stepped out, all bundled up and looking like a snowman in training—pink nose, frown still hanging on stubbornly like it was stuck with duct tape—you couldn’t help but grin even wider.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, voice rough around the edges. “You’re gonna freeze.”

You looked up at him, your grin turning into an exaggerated eye roll. “Rafe, it’s snowing. It’s beautiful! You have to be happy. It’s literally impossible not to be happy in snow!” 

He groaned, the sound more like a reflex than actual annoyance. “I hate this snow. You should’ve seen how long it took me to get to work this morning—” He caught himself mid-rant, realising just how ridiculous he sounded as he took in the sight of you, sitting there in your snow angel pose, practically glowing with joy.

what was he thinking, as long as you where happy and he foot to see that smile he could never be stressed or unhappy

He sighed, shoulders slumping just a little, the tough guy routine cracking under the weight of your happiness. He knew how much you’d wanted this—how many times you’d gushed about snow, about how magical it would be. 

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, his voice softening. “The snow’s... great. It’s just... inconvenient for my work.” He winced at how flat his words came out, knowing they didn’t quite capture the warmth he was trying to convey.

You simply smiled, undeterred, tracing shapes in the snow like you were painting the day itself. 

Rafe crouched down in front of you, close enough that you could see the puff of his breath in little clouds. “Hey,” he murmured, looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. “I’m freezing my ass off, yeah?” 

You let out a laugh, so light and carefree it made his heart skip a beat. “Well, then wait here. I’ll go grab something warmer!” 

You planted a quick kiss on his cold nose, the sort of kiss that would’ve melted any other guy into a puddle. He nodded, chuckling despite himself, and disappeared inside.

A few minutes later, he came back, looking much warmer—and a lot less grumpy. He still wasn’t exactly jumping for joy, but seeing you so happy made his frustration seem... well, a little less important. 

The two of you spent the afternoon running around, throwing snowballs (which, let’s be honest, mostly missed), laughing like you’d never have another snow day again, and trying—really trying—to improve your lopsided snowman. 

By the time the sun began to set, painting the sky in pinks and purples, Rafe leaned over and brushed some snow out of your hair. “You know,” he said with a grin, “I’m not going to work tomorrow. They’re calling for more snow, and I think you might need my professional snowman-building expertise, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly, your smile so wide you thought it might split your face in half. It wasn’t about the snowman, of course. It was about the day. The snow. And the person you were sharing it with. 

Rafe, snowman expert and reluctant snow-lover, was the best part of it all.

©GIRLYRAFE

[nanamincreampie]

Endless Compliments

Gojo Satoru x Black plus size reader

The apartment was unusually quiet for once, the hum of the afternoon settling into a comfortable calm. You sat curled up on the couch, your soft curves sinking into the plush cushions as you flipped through the pages of your favorite book. The sunlight streaming through the windows highlighted the rich undertones of your brown skin, and the cozy sweatshirt you wore only emphasized how at peace you looked.

You heard him before you saw him, the sound of his socks sliding on the hardwood floor, followed by a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Y/N!” Gojo’s voice rang out, cutting through the calm.

You didn’t bother looking up, your eyes staying fixed on the page. “What do you want, Satoru?”

He plopped down beside you, his lanky frame stretching out so that his legs draped over yours. His usual blindfold was pushed up to reveal his cerulean eyes, and they were sparkling with mischief.

“Nothing much,” he said casually. “Just sitting here, admiring my absolutely stunning, one-of-a-kind girlfriend.”

You hummed, still not looking up.

“I mean, seriously,” he continued, resting his chin on his hand as he gazed at you. “How is it even legal to be this gorgeous? You’re like… Beyoncé mixed with the goddess of everything good in the universe.”

“Satoru,” you warned, trying to fight the twitch of a smile on your lips.

But he was just getting started.

“And your skin,” he said dramatically, holding his hand out as if he were framing a masterpiece. “It’s like rich chocolate kissed by sunlight. Perfect. Flawless. I’m actually blinded by your beauty.”

“Then put your blindfold back on,” you deadpanned, turning a page.

Gojo gasped as if you’d just stabbed him. “You wound me! How could you be so mean to someone who’s just appreciating your greatness?”

When you didn’t respond, he sat up straighter, his voice growing louder. “And don’t even get me started on your body. Have you seen yourself? Absolute perfection. Your thighs? Heaven. Your hips? Otherworldly. And that smile—”

You finally looked up, one brow raised. “Satoru, I’m not smiling.”

“Not yet,” he said with a wink. “But you will be.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because you love me.”

You rolled your eyes and went back to your book.

Gojo, undeterred, decided to crank it up a notch. He stood up, striking a ridiculous pose as he continued his ode to you. “My girlfriend is the most amazing woman on the planet! She’s beautiful, smart, funny, kind, and her hugs cure sadness!”

“Satoru, stop,” you muttered, but the corners of your lips were already betraying you.

“Her laugh is like music, her cooking is better than any five-star restaurant, and she makes even sweatpants look like high fashion!”

“Satoru—”

“And don’t think I didn’t notice how good your butt looks today, babe!” he added, pointing dramatically.

That was it. You couldn’t hold back anymore. A laugh burst out of you, and you slapped his arm. “Satoru, shut up!”

He grinned triumphantly, dropping back onto the couch and wrapping his arms around you. “There it is! My favorite sound in the world.”

“You’re so annoying,” you said, though you were still smiling.

“Annoyingly in love with you,” he quipped, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You shook your head, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. No one else could make you feel this special, and you supposed that, for all his loudness and antics, Satoru was exactly what you needed.

[luvtak]

wanting, hhj x reader

✧ genre/tw extreme lying in the grass with hyune on his birthday, major yearning alert, really dangerous fluff i am so sorry, i love yous and maybe a few pet names, unedited<3

✧ w/c 784

✧ this is very quick and mainly just a word dump, but i hope you like it! some sweet for the sweetest boys birthday... how lovely the first bit of spring comes with him

Sitting close this close to him you can smell the sunscreen mixing with his sweet cologne– the scent of warm weather days; springs and summers spent laying together just like this… glowing underneath the sun like two sleepy cats.  It’s funny to think that you’ve laid this way a hundred times in a hundred different ways, yet the novelty never wears. His long fingers swiping their way down your arm, reaching around your wrist and holding tightly. This close he can feel your heartbeat all around him, your chest pressed right into his and the rapid thump coming from his hold around your bracelet. Even after all this time, you still get so nervous being with him, the familiarity of his love swirling in your chest and your stomach–creating shaky hands and warm cheeks. 

Hyunjin’s eyes are peering down at you, striking you down with the strength of it. He’s so happy, springtime brightening his complexion with the shiniest smile you’ve ever seen, happiness leaping off of him. The warm blush settling along his cheekbones, the same color of the blossoms above you, creates a brilliant desire to heat up in you. Not a physical desire, not the disastrous need of nights past, but a fire of want… days spent waking up together and kissing goodnight, pictures and paintings, shared nightstand novels.

It’s ridiculous, you have him already– your hearts are tied together with twine; shared myocardium morphing into one beautiful beating thing– yet you don’t think you could ever stop yourself from wanting more. That wishing ache for him to be with you, too see him like a mirror to your own soul. 

He told you once that being with you was like a shower of cold mist on a hot day. You remember laughing, giggling at the unexpected confession for an early morning, but you see now. This unexpected pain for loving and needing and wanting someone so much, the biting incredulity of seeing someone. 

This close, both can see the evidence of the human condition wearing on each others faces, but Hyunjin has never been fonder of sun scars or smile lines–he loves you and he tells you with the blossomed trees as his witnesses. 

“I love you too, Hyune.” you say, quietly though you’re alone, and his grin is a lesson in heartbreak; so lovely, like a supernova. 

He never thought he could love springtime so much, had always been accustomed to fall and the icy cold weather of winter, but lying here with you he thinks spring might be his favorite. Seeing you and the flowers alight into living breathing blooms takes his breath away, makes him reach for his pencils and his paints. In the week alone he’s amassed several pictures of you, all beautiful, but none right. It’s the only reason he resents his love for you, so big and blinding, that no matter how exact the portrait is, it’s still missing that fundamental gleam you hold. 

“When we get home, can I paint you again?” The question while posed so sweetly makes you groan, if it wasn’t his birthday there’d be no way you’d sit for him another time. And yet, you can’t deny how special he is–the only thing he wanted today was to spend it with you, cake and presents optional. 

It’s this magic that makes you agree, and you can’t deny the excitement of seeing him work. Ever focused and hard working, Hyunjin’s world stopping even while in messy clothes and tied up hair. Seeing him paint made you fall in love with him; the sight of his color covered hands and his clear gaze over his canvas, looking over at you to smile… god you were doomed for him then. 

His stare turns to the clouds now, smile still lilting as he speaks, “i’m painting you right now actually,” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Sometimes in my head I look at you, and I feel the need for a pencil or a brush. I see what colors I would use, how I would blend them together to get the exact shade for your eyes… I’m doing it now.” 

It’s such a Hyunjin thing to say, yet the truth of it shocks you–what a beautiful boy he is, a rare and lovely find. Grinning like he knows he’s wooing you, staring up at the maya blue sky and painting a picture in his head. 

“I really do love you, Hyune.” you tell him, and the strength of it turns his head. Lighting his eyes with a fondness made for spring, rising slightly to settle his lips over your forehead before replying earnestly with every bit of truth in his heart, 

“I love you too.”

© LUVTAK

[saphstories]

I'm Already There

For @e-vay. 😘

Something was different today. Perhaps it was the shade of blue in the sky, not as bright as it should be, dotted with the occasional white cloud? Or the fragrance of the flowers, lilies and roses not as sweet on the breeze as they bloomed? Or even the sun itself, not as warm even with the first day of spring in full arrival?

Amy Rose sighed and stroked her fingertip down the lonely stalk of a blown dandelion, watching the seeds dance in the wind with downcast green eyes, off to places unknown for planting and blooming.

...Or, maybe...just maybe...Was it her own heart's ache that made today so somber? ...Could it be...the absence of her heart that made this beautiful day awash in grey?

Amy shook her head and dropped the stem on the grass beneath her checkered picnic blanket. She was being silly, that silly lovesick Amy Rose... but try as she might to enjoy the warmth of the sun, the blue of the sky, the fragrance of flowers...it still wasn't right.

She harrumphed. This was ridiculous. He hadn't even been gone long, only a couple of days, and here she was, pining and moping, wasting a perfectly lovely day. "Pull yourself together, Rose." The pink hedgehog grumbled, flopping back onto the blanket to glower up at the sky. "Sonic's been gone for far longer than this before... you used to go months with only sparse texts!"

As if conjured by her grouching, the communicator at her side beeped and flashed with the specific tone for a message from the Blue Blur himself. Amy pretended she waited a moment, calmly picking up the device to check with poise and grace and not at all like the crazed kid she used to be...but she couldn't even fool herself. She lunged for the communicator, eagerly bringing up her messages with large green eyes full of stars.

It was a photo. Stamped for only a few minutes prior, with a towering ice cream sundae topped with dripping fudge, tiny chocolate chips, a sugar cone spear, and a bright red cherry on top. Amy's mouth watered at the sight, and her lips curved up into a smile at the winking grin the handsome blue hedgehog at the corner of the frame posed for the camera. 'Best thing about Apotos: Chocolate Sundae Supreme! Though the ice cream will never be as sweet as you. 😉 Wish you were here, Ames! Maybe you could come with next time? I might even share 😜 Xoxoxoxo'

Amy giggled, a lovely flush worthy of her name spreading across her cheeks. She caressed the screen lovingly, longingly, her heart both heavy and warm. It was far from the first text he'd sent since his departure, and she treasured each one, each call he graced her with at morning and night she relished in his voice.

...Who was she kidding? Amy missed him, felt his absence as keenly as she did the blanket beneath her. She missed his laughter, his smile, his confidence, his touch. It had only been two days... but two minutes would have been more than enough without her Sonic. Now, she supposed, that he was truly hers, just as that she was his.

Amy jumped, startled, when the communicator let out a sweet melody. "You give me butterflies~," It sang, and Amy hurried to answer it.

"Hey there, troublemaker!" The familiar voice smoothed the disquiet in Amy's heart, and she relaxed on the blanket for the first time all morning. "Ya didn't answer my text. Busy?"

"Maybe a bit, but I suppose I can squeeze you in." Amy teased.

"Don't worry, I'll make it worth your while." Sonic's voice dropped to a low purr, full of promise, and Amy giggled, blushing pink even if he couldn't see. "Whatcha up to?"

"Nothing too exciting, just sitting under the apple tree." Amy said dismissively. "How was the ice cream?"

"Awesome, like always. How'd you like to know for yourself sometime? Next time we track ol Eggy to Apotos, we could make a date out of it?"

Sonic the Hedgehog offering to take her on a date would never cease to make a thrill skitter through her fur. "It's a date." Amy agreed.

It was quiet on the line for a long moment, and Amy wondered if Sonic had gotten distracted with something else... "You okay, Ames?" His voice was soft, full of concern. "You sound..." He trailed off.

He knew her far too well. "Yeah. I'm fine," She sighed and pinched her nose. "I just... really miss you." Amy confessed, her voice dropping into a whisper, as if her volume could hide her embarrassment. "It's ridiculous, I know, I'm sorry-,"

"Amy Rose." Sonic cut her off, firm and gentle, so confident but so sweet. "Nothing you ever feel is ridiculous, and never be sorry for telling me how you feel. I know I'm not the best at emotions, but you never have to hide yours from me. I don't want you to, not ever. You're Amy Rose, the most passionate, strong, and incredible person I know, and so much of that is because of that big, beautiful heart of yours." He huffed a quiet laugh. "As for missing me, well..." Amy could hear the smile in his voice, the affection that drifted through the speakers straight to her heart. "You don't need to. I'm already there. Can't you feel me?"

"Sonic, I-," Amy breathed.

"I'm right there beside you, Ames. You just need to look around. Can't you see me?" Sonic hummed lovingly. "Can't you feel me there? I'm the sunshine in your quills, that breeze that kisses your cheek." Amy closed her eyes, a smile stretching on her muzzle as the breeze tickled her cheek fur, her quills warmed and shimmering in the sunbeams. "I'm as close as your shadow, holding you in my arms on the blanket, right there with you. I'm there, Ames, right there in your heart. And as long as you keep me there, no matter how far I go, wherever I go, just remember: so long as you love me, I'm already there."

[dellalyra]

𝐑𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

pixie says: i got him i got hydro daddy so here’s some celebration fluff ft my babies the Melusine’s.

Imagine Neuvillette coming to you, a small box in his hands and a Melusine skipping alongside.

You had been close to the Iudex for a very long time, two of the eldest beings in Fontaine. The Hydro Dragon and the leader of the remaining Naiads were bound together by fate - spirits and embodiments of the nation’s elements. Although he posed now as the Chief Justice, as you as a florist - you maintained that friendship from all that time ago.

However, his arrival at the beach you would always sit on after work with his small companion, Liath - you recognised - was unexpected. The fact he knew where to find you was enough to set your heart alight.

“Madame Y/N, please do excuse our interruption - I hope we are not intruding?” Neuvilette asks, poised as ever.

“Nonsense, Neuvilette. Come, sit. Hello Liath, how has your day been?” You say, patting the space your large cloak has been spread out on the sand.

Liath immediately pulls Neuvillette by the hand and they sit down beside you, the Melusine immediately climbing to sit on the man’s lap and the soft smile on his face makes your stomach feel warm and fluttery.

“I’m afraid I must ask for your assistance, it appears a skill of yours has eluded my talents. A skill in which Liath is currently searching for.” He says.

“Oh? How can I help?” You smile, turning to sit facing them.

“Liath came to me today, mentioning how much she admired the style you wore your hair in several days ago - however, I am not well versed in the art of braiding.” He says, face extraordinarily serious for a man asking for braiding advice.

“Oh well that is something I can help with! You want your hair to be like mine, Liath?” You ask, patting her small hand.

She nods and turns to Neuvillette who passes her the box on his right. Her small hands present the blue box tied with a blue ribbon to you and you unravel the bow to find a ridiculously excessive amount of hair clips, bows, ribbons and bands laying underneath a silver soft bristled hair brush.

“I was not entirely sure of what accoutrements you would need for this endeavour, Madame, so I collected everything I could think of. I do hope the brush will suffice, it is my own.” The man says, resting his cane against his leg as Liath crawls from his lap into yours.

“This is more than enough, I could braid the hair of every Melusine in Fontaine with all of this!” You smile.

“Can you do my hair like yours, please? The one long plait with a big ribbon at the end?” The darling on your lap asks.

“Of course, sweetling. Monsieur, sit closer - I will teach you how to do this in the event I’m ever occupied.” You say, patting the space beside you, to which obliges and shifts to sit at your side.

You pointedly ignore the hammering in your chest when the breeze wafts his scent toward you: sea salt, fresh air and something cool and calming.

You begin to brush the Melusine’s hair, soft gentle strokes removing any tangles and easing a path for the style.

“So you just gather hair as you go along, make sure you have three strands - and you overlap them like so, see? If it’s tighter, it will last longer - however I find if they’re too tight it tends to give me quite the headache so I’ll do it nice and loose for this little angel.”

Neuvillette watches your fingers weave through the silky strands and deftly manoeuvre it to your will - or rather - Liath’s will.

“And ta-da!” You say, securing the soft pink ribbon at the end.

Liath reaches up and feels her hair, before looking at the small compact mirror you produce from your bag and smiling.

“Oh thank you so much! I look almost as beautiful as you now! Papa - doesn’t it look pretty!” She spins toward the man beside you.

“Beautiful as a pluie lotus, dearest.” He responds.

“I’m going to show Sedene!” She scampers off toward the Palais, leaving you with the Iudex.

Somehow - this became routine. Every day, Neuvillette and Liath would show up to your spot on the beach, or your florist as it rains - and you would fix the hair of the Melusine. However, the second day - Sedene joined too. Then Aeife, then Elphane, then Blathine and soon you had a gaggle of giggling Melusines decorating each others hair in a chain of styling.

“Madame Y/N?” Liath asks about a month into this newfound tradition.

“Yes, sweetling?” You say, finishing up her hair as she turns to curl into you.

“Are you our mama?” She asks, yawning and nuzzling into you.

At this, the Iudex snaps his head from the newspaper he was reading across from you.

“Would you like me to be?” You ask the cuddled up bundle.

“Very much so. You do our hair, and take care of us if we’re not well and give us kisses. And since Monsieur Neuvillette is like our papa - and he thinks you’re beautiful and he feels a lot of love when he looks at you then that would make you our Mama!”

The Melusine has no idea what she’s said.

You snap your head to look at the hydro dragon.

His eyes are wide, newspaper held tighter in his grip as he looks between you and the little gossip.

“Does he now? Well, then - I suppose I am your mama, if you would allow me the pleasure.” You smile, settling a blanket on the sleepy child.

As she drifts off to a well deserved nap - the man turns to you.

“I do apologise, Madame. Liath - I did not expect her to be so free with her words. If my presence makes you uncomfortable I shall take my leave immediately.” His horns seem to droop slightly, and the sky turns a little bit greyer.

“Well - someone had to make a move. After all, I have been waiting for 700 years.” You smirk, shifting to stand and lay Liath on the armchair of your apartment above your shop.

Neuvillette snaps his head to you.

“I - 700 years? That was when -” The man stands up and walks toward you.

“When we met, yes.” You take his hand and pull him to your kitchen - where you can speak without volume concerns.

He looks at you as if you’ve grown another head.

“I have been in love with you since the moment I stormed into your old home with intention of befriending the mighty Sovereign of Hydro.” You laugh, taking your hand and placing it on his cheek to which he subconsciously leans in to - every touch starved ounce of his body singing in delight.

“A Melusine revealing my love for you wasn’t quite my intention, yet I fear my lack of romanticism would have impeded any attempts made by myself.” He says, and you huff a small laugh at him - never giving himself enough credit.

“Yet, as we are here now - I’ll do my utmost. You have enchanted me, body and soul, from the day a young Naiad flung open my doors. I’m sure you’re reasoning for keeping these feelings to yourself are similar to mine - you were far too precious and integral to my life to allow myself the risk of you no longer being a part of it.” He says, stroking a long finger across the rise of your cheek. You agree with him, voicing the same opinion that he was far too meaningful to you to potentially lose, yet you figured he felt for you about 50 years ago - but thought it best for him to figure it all out by himself rather than moulding things for him - given his nature and responsibilities. You can see a trail of shimmer on his lower lashes, this sweet, oh-so sensitive man. You wipe the beginnings of tears from his eyes.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, please don’t cry.” You smile, seeing him grin down at you and the mirth in his eyes lights your heart.

You tilt your head up to him and he cups your face with his large hands.

“May I kiss you, my darling girl?” He asks in the gentlest voice imaginable.

“Please.”

His soft lips press to yours and you feel as if you’re floating in the purest, warmest most divine pool of water as the clarity of kissing your love sets in. The kiss is gentle, romantic and full of pent up longing - the soft swipe of your tongue across his lower lip makes his hand grip tighter on your waist as you wind your hand into the silky white hair cascading down his back.

He pulls away, both needing a reality check - he looks at you as if to ensure you’re real and you smile at him, pecking his lips once more.

“I love you, Neuvillette.”

“I love you, dearest Mate of the Hydro Dragon”

“And we love you both too!”

The cheerful, loud voices of 3 melusine’s make you both jump as they appear at your door - boxes of cakes and sweets in their arms.

“Liath! Wake up! Papa finally kissed Mama!”

[misskattylashes]

Okay, I’m going to do it. I have been holding back and just telling my closest fandom friends my crazy theory, but what the hell. Most of you think I’m batshit anyway.

Here we go.....

What if we have been on the receiving end of a long played out psyop and Louise has been a way to make the public want Milex?

Okay, hear me out...

It’s 2017/8 Alex has abandoned Miles after EYCTE. He has gone to France to write and record TBHC, having realised their little TLSP bubble could never last (see Star Treatment). Without Alex, Miles is a little lost and lonely in LA. His reputation is also at rock bottom after the journalist incident. Miles decides he wants to move back to England, and Alex decides he wants to move back to, as we know they can never be more than a few minutes away from each other

Taylor either wouldn’t or couldn’t leave LA, so she and Alex break up. But they need a new girlfriend to keep up the straight image (especially with the new badly-received album and a world tour about to begin). On the original version of OPP as seen on the AM in Mexico video, over the turtle segment Alex sings ‘One More Year I’ll Call It Quits’ maybe the plan was to give it all up,but he had signed a contract to do another album and tour after TBHC, and with Miles’ reputation so bad, if they were together then they would both be cancelled.

So a European girlfriend is found and this is where the subterfuge begins. We start with old Instagram posts with tags like #alexturnerwillyoumarryme, then we get professionally shot videos of her backstage at AM’s concert (all the time Alex is ‘still with’ Taylor) so as soon as they launch, the first image of Louise the public get is a negative one, as a fangirl who has set out to get Alex, not caring if he cheats in his current girlfriend.

Before I list the reasons why I think she is fake, can I say this idea he has stayed with her as punishment for cheating on Taylor is absolutely ridiculous. Men who are serial cheats aren’t known for wearing hairshirts. Especially when you’re a handsome, wealthy rock star who could easily get another girlfriend.

So, the idea is, Louise is the most unpleasant person who makes Alex miserable, and if most people are honest, they want Alex to be happy..

So, let’s look at the evidence..(where there is a * it means there is a Miles counterside)

Louise doesn’t work. She claims to be a feminist, but her job seems to be being Alex’s girlfriend.

She openly copies selfies posed by previous girlfriends, making her look like she has no personality of her own

She boasts in her IG posts ie the ‘we just fucked’ pic and the panties on the piano.

She claims to be a musician but we rarely see her writing or recording anythjng.*

She writes embarrassing things about itAlex on social media (beautiful dick).*

Openly takes a neutral stance on Palestine.

Claims to wear vintage clothes but they rarely are*

When Alex was ill after the third London show, it is publicised that he leaves the Emirates with his parents, no sign of Louise. She’s too busy taking pics in the hotel with Matt and Amanda

Meanwhile Miles has worked hard on his public image. He has shown he is a hard worker. He rarely mentions Alex on social media and when asked about him in interviews, whilst admitting they are good friends, is insistent they are not working together. Which is good because he has always been accused of riding on Alex’s fame.

He frequently gives updates when he his writing and recording, treating us to little snippets, something Louise never does.

Is it a coincidence that holiday gate is the same as the week One Man Band’s release. Alex looking miserable with Louise Vs Miles being charming and hard working.

Not long after Louise starts going on about her fake vintage, Miles posts a whole real of him going proper vintage shopping so he looks authentic.

Even in Dublin there is no duet with Alex. Miles not using Alex’s,fame,but also those who monitor social media can see how hungry they are for Milex interaction.

The river Mersey comment – another way of guaging public opinion. Finally the legion of doom 😍😍 comment on the NY recent. The fandom went crazy at Milex acknowledgement.

Alex....

His face..Alex is a pro. He has had twenty years of faking smiles after arguments with the other Monkeys, girlfriends, even Miles. He could fake a smile with Louise if we wanted to when they call their friends at Backgrid to take pap pictures. But instead he chooses to look like someone either on the verge of tears or else being held hostage. And in the latest set of pics, Louise looks the same.

The Taylor tattoo....it looks like he thinks so little of her he has kept that tattoo.

‘I don’t wanna be hers, I wanna be yours’ quite often at gigs where Louise is in attendance.

Not one song on the car written about her.

And now of course with the tour over, a lot of people return to watching TLSP videos. Happy, muscly, healthy looking Alex having fun with Miles as opposed to skinny, miserable Alex trapped with Louise.

Apart from Louise’s most ardent fans, most people want to see him away from her and would be overjoyed at a TLSP reunion, and for us Milexers, a declaration of their love.

So, has this been a long game? A way of making the people think they want Milex? I told you it was crazy, but just remember the world of public relations is completely underhand and insane.

[rithalie-art]

Second post with some fanart!

AKEMI

It’s a sketch but I haven’t drawn in so long my hand literally hurts T-T

Akemi with her small wings, decorative only. They glitter like gold and their only job seems to be betraying her thoughts and puffing up whenever she is angry. They also take ridiculously long to wash away any grime or sand they collect. High maintenance!

TAIGEN

Taigen’s wings are his pride and joy, wide and beautiful. They appear bluish green in this sketch but it’s mostly because of the night light. They are brown, just like those of an osprey. They shine with oil and attention they have just gotten at the brothel from all the lovely ladies he’s been drinking with.

Like I wrote before, he spreads them whenever he can, especially to goad.

(Pose comes from the pilot episode and no, it’s not because I didn’t master that beautiful man’s face yet, not at all…)

And now…

MIZU

That’s how her wings look like at the time of her first duel with Taigen:

Yeeeeesh… they look rough. She does cut them evenly, it’s just that lack of preening and being thrown through paper walls will do that to the person (Ignore Taigen - some have good hair genes, he has good feathers).

They are cut as short as she can keep them and are matted and just sad.

For comparison, here’s how they should look like

Woah, big wingspan baby!

And much healthier, too! Shiny, glittering! I have a feeling that Mizu’s wings would be almost iridescent at the top, definitely pretty enough to make Taigen jealous. Also, wouldn’t it be hilarious if they reacted to the littlest bit of care like crazy and make Akemi green with jealousy with how low of a maintenance they actually are?

Too bad no one thought to teach Mizu how to care for them properly…

Anyways, hope you all like the sketches. I would love to hear your headcanons bout this au and I would be HONORED if anyone joined in!

[cherryredstars]

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!artist!reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: The beauty in art. 

A/N: Based on this request.

Word Count: 1.2K (Unedited)

He was more than just displeased. 

He was tired and aching, muscles sore from a long day. The ache became more prominent as he was forced to hold his ridiculous pose. But no matter how much he huffed and puffed, he would hold it until you gave the okay for him to move. He guessed it wasn’t so bad. From here, he could see your side profile. Could see the lidded look in your eyes as you sketched onto your canvas, mouth slightly parted. Your eyelashes would flutter so beautifully as you blinked, the dying sunlight illuminating your small art room and making your eyes glisten and hair shiny. You could produce beautiful art, but Miguel would never find anything more beautiful than you in the process. 

Another one of his huffs caught your attention, and you turned to him with a smile and laughter in your voice. “Miguel, I told you it would take a while. Stop complaining!”

He glared at you teasingly, shifting again but stopping when you glared back, “Can’t we just continue again tomorrow? I’m tired.”

Sympathy filled your eyes and you gave him another small smile, “I’m almost done. A few more minutes, I promise.” 

Miguel sighed, staying in his position obediently. True to your word, you sketched a few more lines onto the canvas before thanking him. His muscles relaxed instantly, going to leave your art room to go to bed, but was stopped at the door when you gave him a quick kiss to his lips and thanked him again. He hummed against your lips, his body sagging as he told you not to stay up too late working. You gave him a dismissive wave of your hand and he went to bed. 

____________________________________

For the next few weeks, every second of Miguel’s free time at home was spent in your art studio. You had insisted. Something about the handiness of having a live model to reference when it came to shadows and lighting and everything and anything under the sun. It was definitely better than posing, seeing as he was allowed to just lounge on your studio couch and do whatever he needed to do. It did get annoying every now and then when he had something important to work on, forcing him to carry things from his home office into your studio and then back out at the end of the session. But it brought a smile to his face every time he complained and you whined, “Please? I just want to spend time with you too. I like spending time with you.”

He likes spending time with you too. 

Today was one of the rare days where Miguel didn’t have anything to work on. He simply laid on the couch, watching you work. Your brush was feather light on the canvas, picking into a pile of paint and transferring the coloring onto your work. Every now and then you would clean off your brush, a soft ringing filling the room as the brush handle knocked into the glass of water. The peacefulness made him sleepy, and he picked at a loose thread in your couch pillows. 

“How come you won’t let me look at the painting? Is it bad?” He asked, the last bit covered in teasing. 

You smiled at the canvas, eyes briefly flicking to him before you continued working. “The process of every painting is ugly. That’s why we say ‘Trust the process’.”

Miguel snorted at your answer, clearly dissatisfied. It made you laugh and you shook your head as you decided that you were done for the night. Maybe a day and a half more of working and you would be done officially. Your eyes flicker over to the calendar you keep on the wall. Perfect.

You walk over to Miguel helping him off the couch and guiding him out of your studio so the two of you can start on dinner before going to bed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Trust me, it’ll be worth the wait.”

________________________________________

It’s snowing, Miguel realizes as he sits in the living room. He can see it behind the tree you have put up, fuzzy white dots falling from the sky. The air smells like your cooking, warm spices filling the house. He can hear you approaching from behind him, and he doesn’t even flinch when your hands suddenly fall to his shoulders.

Your hands massage the muscle absentmindedly, following his gaze outside of the window. “It’s snowing,” You point out, and he hums and repeats it back to you. 

You seem to light up as you stare at it, squeezing his shoulders one last time before approaching the tree. Miguel watches you silently, brow raised in question as you grab one from the back. You check the tag on it to make sure it’s the right one, before walking back over to Miguel. You perch yourself onto his lap, handing him the present.

His arms wrap around your body, holding the wrapped gift in his hands before the two of you. He squeezes you in his arms, shaking the present slightly, before you place our hand over his to stop him. 

“Gifts are supposed to be after dinner, hun.” He reminds you, and you roll your eyes at him. 

“I know. But I think now is the perfect time for you to open it.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes at you, smiling as he carefully uses a claw to cut through the tap and unfold the decorative paper. From how he opened it, he’s first revealed to the back of a canvas. On the back is your signature and the date, and his fingers trace over it before he slips it over. His breath gets caught in his throat as he stares.

It’s the painting of him that you were working on. He’s in your art room, glowing white highlighting his frame as he lays there. His face is towards the window, where snow is falling. His eyes are shiny, and the smallest smile graces his lips. He traces over each detail with his hand, smiling down at it. 

“You like it?” You ask him, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of your neck. 

He nods, turning to you and leaning up for a kiss that you gladly return. You’re smiling against his lips, and you kiss the crown of his head when you pull away. Miguel nuzzles into your neck, setting the painting down on the coffee table so he doesn’t break it when he traps you into the couch. You laugh as you fall, Miguel laying on top of you and planting kisses up and down your neck. 

“I love it, thank you.” He whispers into your skin. But then, he’s pinching your sides as he gives you a small glare. “But don’t think I didn’t notice you made me do that stupid pose for nothing!”

You burst out laughing, shoulders shaking as you throw your head back over the arm of the couch. “It wasn’t for nothing! I’ll have you know it was a great inspiration. Kept me very motivated.” 

Miguel raises a brow, a large smile on his face. “Great inspiration was it?”

You nod, smile growing bigger as you agree, “The biggest.”

Miguel hums, nodding his head before he’s tickling your sides until you can't breathe. 

“Inspirational my ass!”