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unreliablesnake · 1 year

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How would Ghost and König react to seeing your huge makeup collection for the first time when you’re off-duty together?

You don’t wear makeup at work, even if you go out for a drink before going home, you just use some mascara and maybe a very slightly pink colored lipgloss. Since you haven’t met outside of work yet, they have no idea how dedicated you are.

Ghost

When you show up in the restaurant, you wear full makeup. Nothing dramatic, but it makes you look completely different. He can barely take his eyes off of you, because you look so good.

He makes sure you get home in one piece, secretly hoping you would invite him in. When you do, he can’t hide his smile, and he pulls you into a kiss the moment the front door closes.

In the morning he wakes up before you and he takes a good look around the room from the bed where he sat up. He notices the big makeup vanity set by the window and wonders how full it is. You can do makeup, that’s clear after the previous night.

“Morning,” you purr as you get on your knees and wrap your arm around his torso while you rest your head on his shoulder.

Simon smiles at you and kisses the crown of your head. “Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?” You mumble something against his skin without looking up. “Can I ask you something?”

Finally you look up, eyes mirroring a mixture of confusion and worry. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No! I was just looking at the makeup vanity and wondered what’s in there,” he says with a reassuring smile.

None of the women he dated before had such a thing in their homes. Sure, they had makeup, but they usually kept it in the bathroom or somewhere hidden from his eyes. You seemed to be putting a lot of effort into your looks, especially if this vanity is more than just a design choice.

“Wanna take a look? Come on, I’ll show you,” you say with a wide grin as you get out of bed and hold out your hand for him.

Without hesitation Simon grabs it and climbs out of bed as well. You open the drawers, revealing so many products that he’s beginning to wonder how you managed to fit them in there. He doesn’t even know what half of those are for.

“Foundations, concealers, and primers are stored on this side, eyeshadow palettes and eye liners are here, lip pencils, lipsticks and lipglosses are over there, blushes and highlighters–”

“You lost me here,” he interrupts you, picking up a shiny powder to take a closer look at it. “Do you really use all of these?”

“It depends on my mood and the occasion,” you reply with a smile.

He tries to understand it, he really does, but even though you explained him the use of highlighters, he just couldn’t understand it and barely remembered a thing.

Instead of trying to understand it, he just enjoys seeing the excited look on your face whenever you buy something new, and he even buys you some products as a surprise–although you’re always there to choose what you want.

König

He first learns about your collection when he watches you get ready after the first night you spend together. You agree to go for a walk then visit a museum, so you decide to put on some makeup. “Just to look good as your side piece,” you joke.

Whenever you reach for the products, he keeps asking what they are, why you use them, and most importantly, he pays attention to how you use them.

As you get closer with time, he begins to ask you to put on some makeup even when you’re not going anywhere. He loves seeing you do it, and he loves to compliment you even more. A part of him is convinced that you wouldn’t stay with him if he didn’t take any chance he got to compliment you in some way.

“You look stunning, bunny,” he whispers into your ear as he shows you a necklace. “Mind if I put this on you?”

You turn your head to look at him and flash a smile at the man. “It’s beautiful, thank you,” you say before giving him a quick kiss, leaving a lipstick mark on his cheek. “Let me wash your face,” you say with a laugh.

“Let it stay there,” he mumbles as his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss. “It feels like you just marked me as yours.”

“If you put it this way,” you begin with a quiet giggle before kissing his chin, the tip of his nose, his forehead, and any body part that you can reach from there.

These moments are incredibly precious to him, when you let him know you love him, that you don’t want him to leave. Because he wants to stay, he desperately wants to be by your side for the rest of your lives.

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

He couldn’t help but smile. “I love you too,” he says.

#könig #könig x reader #konig #konig x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #mw2 #modern warfare ii #modern warfare #call of duty

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lawrites · 4 months

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Rubens Can Suck It!!

Sweet Gotham S1! Edward Nygma x Plus Size! Female Reader

You are having an awful day when someone leaves a note on your desk, describing your figure. It sets you off, and Ed is the one who seeks to comfort you.

This fic features a LOT of insecurities, specifically around being plus size. It talks about the feeling of being seen by others and how shitty some officers at the GCPD are. But Ed is sweet. No warnings beyond that EXCEPT some dirty thoughts from Ed 👀.

It's been an awful morning and it's only 8 AM.

As a woman who works in a field primarily made up of men, especially a plus size woman, you have made your confidence into your armor. Yeah some of the officers could be pigs, (most of them, actually), but you do love your body and how it looks, so it doesn't bother you.

You enjoy wearing bold colors, pretty dresses, structured pant suits, and even pencil skirts to work most days. They make you feel infallible, and you KNOW you look cute in them. No matter what those tiny men say, you can get through the day feeling good.

And usually...it works. There are some days that you think everyone struggles with their looks, no matter their size. It's what happens when your society is constantly screaming "YOU CAN BE BETTER BUY THIS PRODUCT" at you from all angles.

And so, while you are beating yourself up for letting your confidence slip, you decide to go ahead and make yourself more comfortable while you get it back. Especially because trying to force it wasn't working.

Every glance in the mirror was followed by a critical voice, today. Your hair just didn't sit right, your chosen outfit was too tight and the textures were bothering you, and the high heels you sometimes wear would clack and bring eyes to you. All of that sounded just...exhausting, especially when you just want to get through the day and go home without drawing any attention to yourself.

While usually a pair of eyes on you wouldn't bother you, the thought of Harvey Bullock only staring at your tits when he talks to you, or Jim glancing up and down in what he thinks is a subtle way, or any of the officers giggling when you walk by...yeah it would take only one thing to set you off today, you can tell.

So, while it isn't the most flattering outfit you own, you throw your hair into a ponytail and pull an oversized sweater and linen pants on. Comfy, cozy, still professional enough, and properly disguising your body from any eyes, appreciative or insulting.

After that rollercoaster of emotions while you were getting ready, you don't have time to stop for coffee on your way in, which just adds to your mood. And, of fucking course, some guy decided to begin terrorizing Gotham at 7 in the fucking morning, so all public transport is delayed.

You barely manage to get to your desk by 8 AM with no coffee and already in a bad mood. Setting your stuff down, you dig your palms into your eyes, trying to fight off the urge to just leave. A small slip of paper in neat handwriting makes you smile just a bit, though.

What is always found on the ground

But never gets dirty?

You struggle for a second, your brain moving at a slow pace thanks to the lack of coffee. That is, until you hear footsteps and something blocks the lights streaming in from the windows. You gasp and turn towards Edward Nygma, who is standing right next to you and casting a...

"Shadow!" You blurt out.

He gives you one of his sweet, tight-lipped smiles and nods. "Correct!"

You force a cheery tone to your voice so you don't spoil his mood. Ed may be a bit...odd, but he is one of your best friends here, and he doesn't deserve to be brought down just because you aren't in a good mood. "Great! How many is that so far, Eddie?"

He immediately recites, "That would be 85 riddles correctly guessed out of 90 I have shared with you. 3 you needed a hint for and 2 you did not solve entirely."

You cross your arms in mock anger. "Hey! I did my best! Those ones were hard. It's almost like you wanted me to fail or something."

He hurriedly scrambles to get the next sentence out, "Oh! Oh I would n-never! I j-just..."

Whoops, guess your bad mood made that "mock" anger sound more like actual anger. You take on a placating tone, "Ed, it's ok! I know you just enjoy riddles. And sometimes that big brain of yours makes up a new one that stumps me."

You laugh, maybe a bit bitterly, now, as your bad mood forces itself to the front again. The next sentence is nearly mumbled, "I mean, it must be difficult, sometimes, making puzzles for someone who isn't as smart as you."

Ed seems confused more than anything, now. "I'm...I'm not sure what brought that on, but writing down riddles for you every morning is f-fun for me!"

You sigh, twirling a pen from your desk in your hand to avoid eye contact. "It's just...it's just one of those days, Ed. I couldn't find an outfit that made me look nice..."

Ed interrupts you with his insistence, but he still stumbles over his words, "B-but you always look n-nice!"

Your smile comes out as a grimace, "You're sweet, Ed, but everyone doesn't think so." You glance around to make sure that your next words aren't overheard. "I know that I can usually brush cruel insults away, because I try to tell myself I'm beautiful..." You choke out the last part of your sentence, cutting yourself off before you get too emotional in the middle of the office.

You get up and decide to leave the main lobby to get some of the shitty coffee from the break room. At least there you could better disguise the tears in your eyes. "It's really not a big deal, Ed. I guess I'm just not myself, today. Give it a day or two and I'll be more amusing."

And without waiting for a response, you hurry off.

He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, unsure how to respond to the dismissal you just gave him. Usually the two of you would talk for at least 5 more minutes.

Wracking his brain as he walks away, he tries to think of something to cheer you up.

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Rubens

Flashes of his paintings fly through Ed's mind as he attempts to type out a sweet note to you. Every time he gets a glance of a plush thigh or your soft belly, he thinks of how he painted Venus, the Goddess of Beauty.

A voice he's been trying to avoid for a while now pipes up, Yeah, Goddess of only beauty? I'm sure that's all you're thinking about, Ed. How about Goddess of Se-

Ed cuts the voice off before it can finish that thought, but now he is unfortunately thinking about it, even at work. Rubens didn't paint all of his women clothed, especially Venus. Her nude form fuses with yours in Ed's mind, haunting him, taunting him.

There's just...so much he can play with. Your body...so much he can sink his long fingers into. He goes back to your belly, what he has ascertained to be the main source of your insecurity. He empathizes with that, but all he can think of whenever you wear something tight is bending you over in the medical lab on site and holding onto that plush belly as he-

Again, he cuts himself off. He would like to think that the other voice took over again there, but those thoughts were all him. He adjusts himself a bit as he sits at his desk, trying to be subtle.

Then he looks back at the screen in front of him, remembering your mood today, and that hits him like a bucket of cold water. He curses the tears in your eyes from old insecurities popping up again. He has seen you become more and more confident in your time at the GCPD, learning to ignore the pigs that giggle at everything that isn't "normal" to them.

Ed knows that feeling, and especially the taunts from those cops, well. He's off, to them. He never quite knows when to start or end a conversation, and he injects his interests even when he knows people are tired of them.

And that's why he likes (loves) you. You always smile and try with his riddles. You even continue to talk to him after, and are interested in who he is outside of work! That's rare. And if he could return that joy you have given him every day, it would be worth it for the possibility of you figuring out his true thoughts.

Unfortunately, while he has a mind for riddles, analytics, and all things mathematical, he has not been as blessed with poetry. So he wants to type this out...if nothing else than to keep you from feeling like you owe him something.

He types and deletes and types and deletes, looks at the clock, drums his fingers on the desk, and then types slowly this time. Reading it over, he nods at what he has written. It's not amazing, but he hopes it will make you feel like there are people in the office that are on your side, maybe even a secret admirer.

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And now you're soaking wet. You just wanted to escape your desk and get a simple sandwich and the sky decided that it was a perfect time to begin a deluge right before you got back to the GCPD building. Why? God hates you, apparently. There's no other explanation that would satisfy your overdramatic mind at this point in time.

Luckily you managed to keep your precious food dry by stuffing it under your coat, but the rest of you is definitely not so lucky. You huff and start towards your desk. Bullock sees you on the way, starts a sentence of some sort, (most likely to quip at your condition), but the glare you send his way shuts him up immediately.

You end up collapsing at your desk and peeling off your outer coat, feeling the air conditioning of the building start to combine with your wet clothes to make a chill seep into your bones. Trying to ignore it but unable to suppress a shiver, you place your food on your desk...wait...is that? It is! Someone left a little typed note to you under the bag.

You pick up the note, giving it a quick glance to see if there was anything to connect it to someone. There are no initials or name...hmmm.

Your eyes read over the words on the page once...twice. And your heart shatters. How could...why would...how could someone be so heartless that they would taunt you today of all days?

There is a group of those rude, awful officers that like to congregate together around the water cooler, gossiping and laughing at anyone who wasn't them. But right now, one of them is talking while looking directly at you, and when he stops he throws his head back in laughter, with the rest following.

Holding back a sob, you crumple the letter in your hand and get out of the room as fast as you can without running. As soon as you are out of their sight, tears start streaming down your face and you run to a nearby empty room. It doesn't even matter what it is, you just care that it's empty and safe and lock the door behind you, collapsing against a wall and trying to catch your breath as you gasp for air.

You hold that position for only about 30 seconds, trying to muffle your sobs so they couldn't be heard by anyone outside, but apparently you weren't quiet enough. A quiet knock sounds on the door.

Tap tap tap

You do your best to school your voice, but it still comes out shaky as you reply "Please find another room."

But the voice that filters through the door is one you recognize well.

"Y-you looked cold, so I brought you an emergency blanket. Oh! And a-also your lunch."

You let out a sob, unable to stifle it. "T-thank you, Ed." And you walk over to the door to unlock it, opening it just a tad so he can't see your state.

But Ed is observant, and even with what little you present to him, he can see you are massively upset. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you are trembling, whether from the cold or from your current emotions, that he can't tell. He tries his best to gather some courage.

"W-would you mind if I sat with you for l-lunch?" He holds up your bag of food and you notice that his own lunch is clasped in his hand behind it.

Quickly, you try to consider if you are ready to fully cry in front of Ed, but his kind, if nervous, smile and his own insistence on joining you made you certain that he wouldn't be too judgemental.

You turn your head to the side to try and hide it a bit more as you step back to open the door. Your arm sweeps over to gesture to where you were sitting. "Be my guest, Mr. Nygma."

This makes him let out a nervous chuckle, but he enters anyway. You close the door behind him and lock it.

"I hope you don't mind, I just don't want anyone to see me...well..."

He nods, "That is perfectly understandable."

You both stand awkwardly for a few moments, but you eventually feel the floor calling to you again, so you nestle against the wall where you previously had collapsed. Ed slowly settles down at a respectable distance from you, his gangly limbs shuffling until he finds a comfortable position.

When he hands you your bag of food, he decides it's better to talk about what happened than sit in silence. "M-may I ask why you are upset?" You glance at him, and your eyes start to fill with tears again. He hurriedly starts to stutter through another sentence, "Oh! B-but if you p-prefer not to talk about it, t-that's ok!"

You shake your head, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I guess people like to take advantage of you when you're down sometimes, Ed."

You sigh, but begin feeling more angry than sad. "I mean, I've been in a bad mood all day, I got rained on when I was just trying to get some food, and then some asshole leaves me this."

You open your hand to reveal the crumpled note to Ed. He keeps his face as neutral as he can, recognizing it. Oh no, you fucked up, Ed! The voice in his head gleefully taunts.

Your sniffle brings him back, and you look down at the note, spreading it out so you can read it out loud.

"While you are not seen by others as a beauty

I cannot keep myself from glancing at your desk.

Your figure is full, and yet one word sticks truly,

I can only describe you as such: Rubenesque."

Ed ponders over the poem, while a bit rudimentary, it was full of his true compliments to you. But your face crumples when you get to the last word, stuttering it out.

Your eyes look to him, "I mean, Ed! How could someone write this?"

You see his face scrunch in confusion. "I admit, I do not quite understand. I see nothing wrong with the note?"

Feeling frustration well inside of you, you gesture with your hands wildly. "Nothing wrong? It's that word, Rubenesque!! It's an insult, I know it, especially with how those assholes were glancing at me as I read it, laughing once I was done."

Ed seems to be more confused now. "I was not aware it was an insult?"

You nod, and remember all of the times you have heard it in the past, "It's always been used by people who want to try and appear to be kind, but truly aren't. They call me Rubenesque in this snide tone, like it's something they can barely stand to spit out of their mouths."

Ed tries to interrupt, but you continue, softer now. "I just don't know Ed. The whole note seems to be mocking me...calling me full figured and not a beauty. Am I really that bad?" He shakes his head while you feel tears starting again, so you look down at the floor.

Now at a whisper, you barely get out the next words. "I just...I don't even want someone to like me anymore. I just want them to leave me alone." With that vulnerable confession, you sob, and bring your hands to your face, trying desperately to cover it. A shiver runs through you again.

After a few beats, you feel warmth around you, and you glance up to see that Ed has moved closer to cover you with the blanket he brought. His long arms stay in place in a hug after he positions it, keeping you close to him. You are a bit taken aback, as the most that Ed has touched anyone in the past was maybe a handshake.

He leans down so you can hear him, his voice more sure, now, even if it is soft. "Do you know about the painter, Rubens?"

You shake your head. "Is that where the term comes from?" He nods. Not feeling charitable, you grab the blanket and bring it closer around you as you grumble out, "Rubens can suck it."

He lets out a giggle at that, and you feel your heart warm at the noise. "I understand that you feel it is an insult...would you mind if I explain what it really means?"

You nod, because even if it is as bad as you make it out to be, at least you can hear his voice as he explains it.

One of his hands strokes the blanket surrounding you, right on top of your arm. "Rubens painted many different subjects, but the descriptor of Rubenesque usually refers to his nude paintings of women. Specifically, women like Venus."

You lift up your head to look at him. "Venus as in the Goddess of Beauty?"

He nods, gently. "Yes, among...other things." His eyes darken for just a moment before returning to his informative rant. "The women he paints are known to be full-figured, yes, but they are beautiful because of that, in my opinion."

You sit as still as you can, barely breathing, wanting to hear every word he says. A long finger comes under your chin and guides your face until you are looking right at him. "I wrote you that note. I think you are the definition of beauty."

And with that, he brings you gently forward, looking in your eyes the whole time. You let him, and lean forward to meet his lips. The kiss you share is sweet and short, but it fills you with a giddiness that makes you feel like a teen experiencing her first kiss again.

You separate smiling at each other, and Ed reaches up to kiss your forehead. "I apologize for upsetting you. I was trying to be a secret admirer."

You chuckle, "Yeah, well, it didn't help that I read the note as uncharitably as I could." You glance up at him, "I'm sorry for crumpling it up in anger."

He shakes his head. "D-don't apologize. I'll write you as m-many bad poems as you want." One of his long arms slowly moves down, and a finger traces your hip over the blanket. "Is this ok?"

You feel a warmth spark through you again as he makes contact, and all you trust yourself to do is nod. He nuzzles into your neck, whispering in your ear.

"I want you to know, right now, so there is no doubt, I love your body. These hips, your plush belly...even your soft arms." You feel his warm breath on your ear, and it makes you shudder. "They all remind me of art, and they make me want to..."

He trails off, and brings his hand away from your hip quickly, as if burned. You miss his touch, already, and confusedly ask, "What? Ed?"

You can't tell anything from his neutral face, but he gets up, suddenly, grabbing your lunches together again. "Let's find a better place for lunch, more comfortable...maybe with a table."

You nod, standing up with him. As you position the blanket around you, Ed wraps an arm around your waist.

"A-and...if you would like...have dinner with me tonight. I'll cook for you and...tell you more of my thoughts."

Your cheeks heat up, and his do as well. "Ed, I..." You think for a moment. "I'd love to have dinner with you."

He grins at you, again-one of his sappy, closed mouth grins-and leads you out of the room in his embrace. The two of you chat and giggle, seeking out a proper place for lunch and ignoring all of the stares you get. If you have each other, the rest of the world doesn't matter.

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#lawrites #plus size reader #x reader #reader #plus size fic #gotham #gotham x reader #edward nygma x reader #gotham rogues x reader #gotham edward nygma

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siempre-bucky · 1 year

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pumpkin spice

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake's a strict black coffee kind of guy until he wasn't.

wc: 720

a/n: i had this idea at 2am and couldn't put it down...so here we are...

"What the fuck is that?" Jake questioned, a grimace on his face as his eyes followed the cold orange colored drink he was passing to you.

Shifting in the passenger seat, you rolled your eyes and happily took it from him. "A pumpkin spice latte. It's the taste of fall," you laughed, taking a small whiff of the spices sprinkled on top of the whipped cream.

"Taste of fall," he repeated mockingly as he took his black coffee from the girl at the window. "Sounds gross." Jake was a strict black coffee kind of man, just like his father and the other Seresin men. Javy sometimes managed to sneak a creamer in when the aviator wasn't looking. He got an iced black coffee in the summer months when he felt adventurous.

You snorted and took a long drink. "Have you even tried it?"

"No," he answered confidently, "And I don't need to try it to know it's gross."

You reached over the console and took his coffee from his free hand and replaced it with yours. "Try it," you insisted.

The blond formed a pouty face, his green eyes narrowed like a stubborn child. "No."

Time to bring out the big guns. "I'll call you the best pilot in the Navy over comms." The way to get Jake Seresin to do anything you want: stroke his ego.

Jake gave you an unimpressed look that could only make you giggle, his strong hand gripping the cup a little tighter. "The things I do for you," he joked. Cautiously, he brought the green straw to his lips and slowly drank.

The coffee hit his tongue and he surprisingly didn't flinch like you were expecting. He looked stone faced at the red light in front of him, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

If Jake learned anything in his thirty plus years of life, he learned to conceal how he felt. He didn't want to admit that the fall drink tasted really fucking good, he didn't want to give you that satisfaction. He doubted it would give him the caffeine he needed for a day of flying, but damn it was enjoyable. He snuck in another sip before pulling away.

"Sorry, baby," he chuckled dryly, handing back the drink as the light turned green. "Black coffee's the only drink for me."

You reluctantly smiled and looked up at one of the jets taking off from base. "Thanks for trying it, honey,” you sighed in defeat.

A couple mornings later, Jake walked into one of the classrooms at Top Gun with two identical cups in his hands. Their warmth soothed his hands on the cold October morning.

You were deep in conversation with Halo and Phoenix when he approached you, handing you your cup. You smiled at the way he wrote your name in black pen, accompanied by a little doodle of your callsign. "Tea? I'm shocked you didn't ask for that pumpkin shit."

"Thanks, Bagman," you smirked, ignoring his comment.

Maverick's lecture seemed to go on for hours, a corner of your notebook covered in doodles and your eyes began to fall heavy. Absentmindedly, you reached for one of the cups that sat in front of you and Jake.

Blowing the steam to cool it down, you brought the lid to your lips. You expected the taste of lemony tasting tea not—pumpkin. Your eyebrows raised at the foreign taste, doing everything in your power not to react and cause a scene.

You pulled back and pressed your lips together as you turned the cup. 'Jake' was written in thick black sharpie along the side. That sly son of a bitch, you thought before a wide shit eating grin broke out on your face.

Setting the cup back down, you nudged the man beside you. "What happened to your coffee, Jakey? It actually tastes like something this morning," you teased in a hushed tone.

Jake tensed up, the grip on his pencil almost enough to break it in half. "Tell no one," he grits.

"I bet your lips taste sweeter now." You weren't going to let him live this down. Not when his cheeks were a beautiful crimson and he looked like he could shut you up with one bruising kiss.

"Sweetheart," he warned.

You looked over at him and winked, "Told you, taste of fall."

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fluff #hangman x reader #hangman x you #top gun #top gun maverick

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actual-changeling · 1 year

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ellie learns how to draw, and, if she might say so herself, gets pretty damn good at it, especially faces. it helps her ground herself to see happy memories physically stare back at her from her sketch book, her walls, the fridge, and wherever else joel puts up her drawings. he loves all of them, even the very first ones that aren't much more than vaguely human scribbles.

the first year in jackson is a pain, and she spends most of it holed up in their house, drawing, painting (she has no idea where joel gets all the paint from and he refuses to tell her), and once they make it through their first winter together, she feels comfortable enough to show them to other people, too. mostly tommy and maria, and in a weak moment she even gifts them a drawing she made of them and their baby.

she's over at their house a lot, it's a lot more lived in and settled than theirs but they're working on it, and notices some actual pictures, the kind you take with a camera, decorating the living room. it's obvious that they're prized possessions, framed and front and center on the walls. a handful of them show maria and what must have been her family before the outbreak, others are newer. jackson does have some cameras saved for special events, and there are two pictures of them on their wedding day, and even one from a few days after the baby was born.

she doesn't think much of it until their second summer in jackson when she notices the way joel stares at the baby pictures and realizes that all he has to remember sarah by is the broken watch on his wrist. the only tangible memory and it's one of pain and death.

ellie mulls over it a lot, it keeps her up at night and while joel picks up on it, he doesn't press the issue when she refuses to talk about it, though she assures him she's fine.

it takes her another two weeks after her realization to catch tommy alone one afternoon with joel safely away on patrol, oddly nervous and unsure how to phrase what she wants to ask. eventually she manages to explain her idea and the positively soft, distantly heartbroken look he gives her makes her breath catch in her throat.

do you think he would be okay with it?

i think he would love it, sweetheart.

they sit together for hours in his kitchen, ellie is determined to make it look exactly right and urges tommy to not hold back his criticism if something isn't accurate, and by the end, they have missed dinner and her wrist hurts like hell, fingers stained with pencil lead and color, but her chest is brimming with a warm sense of accomplishment.

tommy gives her a frame and she wraps it as well as she knows how to. he insists that she gives it to him alone, but ellie draws him into an uncharacteristically tight hug before she leaves and hides her smile in his chest when he presses a hesitant kiss to her hair. family, she realizes, is pretty damn great.

the waiting is the hardest part. she puts her gift on the coffee table and paces the living room for at least half an hour while she waits for joel to return from his patrol, switching between chewing her lips and biting her nails. by the time he finally walks through the door, she has almost convinced herself to abandon the whole thing and just pretend it never happened, but then joel's there, gaze immediately softening when he sees her, and suddenly she can't wait to give it to him. it's a pretty big frame and the best paper she owns, rivaling some of her larger paintings on actual canvas, and joel has to sit down to open it without running the risk of accidentally dropping it.

i hope you like it.

the quiet tremor in her voice makes him stop halfway through unwrapping it, but she just gestures for him to continue, rocking on her feet.

tommy helped.

when the last of the paper falls away and joel sees her work for the very first time, they both hold their breath at once, even the summer breeze stilling, air brimming with something neither of them have the words for.

joel is looking at a vibrant water color painting of sarah, face at a soft angle as she wonders at a small purple butterfly resting on her finger, hand raised in front of her, eyes and smile shining brighter than the sun, hair a shimmering cloud of brown and gold. a frozen moment in time, sarah forever fourteen, capturing the love ellie feels pouring out of joel whenever he talks about her, a wave of affection and distilled joy that makes her miss a person she has never known.

i thought you might want a happy memory of her to look at, too.

ellie points at his watch, broken glass fracturing the light falling in, hand shaking.

i hope it's okay that i- if you don't want it-

joel's arms are around her before she can finish, cutting off her stuttered attempts, frame safe on the table as he hugs her so tightly her feet lift off the floor and she clings to his neck, relief bringing air back to her lungs. he holds her with his face buried in her hair, and ellie only notices he is crying when she can feel a few stray tears run down her neck. when he sets her down again, eyes glassy even after he dries his cheeks, her knees buckle under his gaze. they're both bad with feelings, bad with words, love shown through touch and gestures, through don't forget to eat, i'll stay with you until you fall asleep, fresh cups of coffee left on his nightstand before she leaves for school, hands searching for each other in the crowd again and again and again, never letting go.

love brought to life by a painting of the daughter that taught him how to be a father, made by the one that helped him find his way back to the light.

thank you, ellie.

they both know it means i love you, too, sarah immortalized on their living room wall where the morning sun illuminates her face with every sunrise.

more rambles in the tags

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #joel and sarah #joel miller #ellie williams #tlou fluff #sarah miller #tommy miller #ellie and tommy #this got so much longer than i planned help this is like half a fic synopsis #this started out as ellie draws sarah for joel #and turned into whatever this is #so so so tempted to turn this into a full fic #but also listen listen i cannot draw i wish i could because i want to capture the image of that painting so desperately #blanket permission to everyone who wants to do that i will literally give you my first born #gonna sleep on the highway tonight this is killing me #this is an apology for the tommy's baby looks like sarah post #and a peace offering for all the angst to come in my fic #fr though im almost tempted to literally pay someone to draw this i am mentally ill #also ellie and tommy bonding as a bonus because i am still obsessed with that too #ellie is sarahs sister and while neither of them will every say it like that they both know its true #theyre just emotionally repressed its ok they communicate in their own way #anyway gonna try and not die now and actually get stuff done but also pls talk to me about them i am vibrating hard enough to shatter glass

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feyhunter78 · 8 months

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Fey's 2000 Follower Celebration!!!!

Description: It's Gabi's first day of first grade, and it gets Miguel thinking about when he first arrived in this universe. Pink Pastels Masterlist

“Papá, come on we’re going to be late.” Gabi pouts, tugging on the sleeve of his lab coat, her bright pink backpack sitting snuggly on her shoulders, her dark hair pulled up into a ponytail with a blue hair tie.

“I just want to make sure you have everything Mija.” Miguel says, going over his mental checklist. Lunch? Check. Pencil bag? Check. Name tag on her shirt with her name and classroom number? Check. Colorful tag shaped like a car that indicates she’s drop off and pick up only? Attached securely to her backpack. He knows she has everything; he packed her bag the night before, but he can’t stop himself from worrying.

“Come on, I want to get to school, I want to meet my new friends!” Gabi tugs harder, heading towards the door.

He chuckles. She’s so unlike him in this aspect, she isn’t afraid to put herself out there or go up to kids she doesn’t know and try to make friends. She relishes the challenge, and he almost envies her confidence.

“Okay, okay, we’ll go.” He says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

She smiles up at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him out the door.

He lets he chose the music on the drive there, sings along softly to the Spanish songs she’s chosen, glancing up at the rearview mirror every so often to look at her.

Gabi is staring out the window, memorizing the route—just in case I make new friends, and we want to walk to school together—she told him in a very matter of fact tone.

He can’t imagine ever letting her walk to school. Of course, the streets are safe, he’s made sure of that, and she’d be walking with other kids, and most likely a parent, but his stomach churns at the idea of anything ever happening to her.

“Gabi?” Miguel asks, struck by a sudden need to confirm that she knows just how loved she is.

“Yeah?” Gabi replies, looking away from the window and towards him.

“You know I love you, right?” He asks, a smile tugging at his lips when he sees her smile.

“Yep, more than the sun loves the sky.” She says cheerily, easily, without a single moment of hesitation.

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep the tears from welling in his eyes. He spent so long searching for her, so long trying his best to be a father worthy of her. To never doubt that he loves her, to never wonder and fear as he did growing up.

“And guess what, Papá?” She says in a singsong voice.

“What?”

“I love you more than the moon loves the sea.” She says, beaming at him, her tone filled with that pure honesty that you can only find in children.

And here comes the waterworks.

Miguel manages to stop himself from crying by the time they pull into her school’s parking lot, and Gabi is already unbuckling her seatbelt.

“We’re here! We’re here!” She’s jiggling the door handle, which he would usually ask her not to do, but she’s so excited he can’t bring himself to correct her.

He turns off the car and slides out, opening the door for her and helping her out.

Gabi hits the ground running, already seeing her friends from kindergarten. She bolts forward, the sound of his name being called by another parent taking his attention away for a split second.

It all happens so fast, he looks away then hears the sound of brakes squealing, and someone shouting. His heart races, all his senses going into overdrive. Gabi is wrapped in the arms of a woman in a pink dress, Gabi’s cries filling his ears.

Miguel is there by her side in a second, pulling her from the woman. “What happened?”

“I didn’t see the car, I forgot to look, Papá I’m sorry.” She clings to him, burying her face in his lab coat.

“My goodness, I’m so glad I grabbed her in time.” The woman says, one hand pressed to her heart.

Miguel looks up, for a moment. She’s shorter than him, most people are, with a lovely figure wrapped in soft-looking fabric, her hair styled in a way that frames her face but still keeps it from getting in her eyes.

“Thank you, Ms?” He realizes he doesn’t know her name, he meant to go to Meet the Teacher Night, but he was called away.

“Y/N, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N, I’m Gabi’s teacher.” You say, giving him a bright smile.

“Ms. Y/N, thank you, I’m glad Gabi has a teacher with quick reflexes.”

“Oh yeah, I’m like a cat.” You joke.

He smiles, and he feels Gabi giggle against his coat.

“Like a cat, that’s silly.” She says, pulling herself away from him to face you.

“Oh really? Well, I have a lot more silly sayings ready for the school year if you’d like to hear them?” You tell her, bending slightly at your knees to look her in the eyes.

“Yes, please.” Gabi says, sniffling.

“Okay, but have to hold my hand, and no more running in the street.” You warn playfully, holding your hand out to her.

“Okay!” Gabi says, grabbing your hand, her fear vanishing as she wipes away her tears, her smile back in full force.

But Miguel can’t brush off his fear that easily, and his fingers catch on Gabi’s backpack.

She turns to look at him. “Oh, Papá, I almost forgot.” She lunges at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Bye, I’ll see you later!”

He crushes her to his chest, burying his face in her hair. “Bye Mija, be good.”

She wriggles out of his grasp and grabs your hand again, before waving goodbye and letting you lead her inside the school.

Miguel remains on his knees for a second, watching as you both disappear inside the building, before he stands and brushes himself off, heading towards his car.

He drives to Alchemax in silence, pulls into the parking lot in silence, and walks to his office in silence. He sits at his desk, boots up his computer, and tries to force himself to concentrate. His desk saver is a picture of him and Gabi on her fourth birthday. She’s got icing all over her face and hands, and she’s reaching for him, one tiny hand covered in frosting finding its mark on his cheek. He’s smiling, she’s laughing, and he remembers how when that picture was taken, he was so afraid everything would disappear, and he’d be left with only photos, and videos once again.

“Hey Miggy, just wanted to check on you.” Monica’s voice floats through the crack in the door she’s made by opening it without knocking, a terrible habit she has, but he finds it less annoying on days like this.

He gives her a weary smile. “It’s easier than last time, but still hard.”

She gives him a sympathetic grimace. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

He thanks her, and she closes his office door, her heels clicking on the tile of the hallway as she walks away.

Miguel smiles as the screen changes to a picture he took. Gabi is three, curled in his lap, head resting on his arm, Oso tucked underneath her arm.

He remembers the adrenaline that rushed through him when he got the alert. How he activated the program that transferred all commands to Jessica and Peter, and left them with a quick goodbye.

This universe’s Miguel was dead, Gabi would be placed in his mother’s care, unless Monica fought hard enough for custody, which he now had no doubt she would’ve done, no matter how chill she tried to portray herself as.

It was the perfect opportunity; one he would not waste. So, he left, took Lyla and his meager possessions, studied all he could about the old Miguel and became him—to an extent.

It was dark in his apartment, quiet, Gabi was asleep, Margo from next door asleep on the couch, some random telenovela playing at a low volume.

Miguel switched it off as he turned on one of the lamps, gently shaking her awake.

She jolted awake then relaxed, giving him a sleepy smile as she patted him on the shoulder and made her way down the hall.

He stood in Gabi’s doorway, almost afraid to go in. Would she recognize him, would she reject him? Somehow be able to tell he was not the father she knew, or would she love him as much as he loved her? They were blood, she was his daughter, and he was her father no matter what universes or canon events separated them.

Miguel gathered up his courage and stepped inside. Her room was different, a forest green instead of pink, with white accents, and glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. She’s still in a crib, she’s three now, soon he’ll need to transition her to a toddler bed, but when he leans against the railing, gazing down at her, he finds he wishes she would stay this little forever.

Her eyes slowly open, and she smiles at him, ever observant his daughter is.

“Hola Mija, lo siento, ¿te desperté?” He whispered, reaching into her crib and gently brushing her cheek with one bent finger. Trsl: Hello daughter, I’m sorry, did I wake you/wake you up?

She grabs it, then grabs more of his hand with surprising strength, pulling herself up into a sitting position.

That’s new.

“Papá’s back.” She said sleepily, cuddling Oso closer.

“Yes, I’m back.” He said softly. “And I’m never leaving you again.”

“Can I sleep with you?” She asked, letting go of his hand to reach out to him, silently asking to be picked up.

“Of course, Mija,” Miguel said, scooping her up and supporting her back with his hand.

“Yay, night Papá.” Gabi whispered, already falling back asleep.

He didn’t sleep that night, just stayed up watching her, marveling over the fact that he got another chance to be with his daughter. He wouldn’t mess it up this time, no matter what happened, he would not lose her.

Gabi is having a great first day at school. She got to pick the music on the way to school, survived running in the street, and her teacher is the nicest person ever.

Ms. Y/N is so beautiful, like a princess, Gabi thinks, and you answer everyone’s questions about yourself, even the silly ones like who your favorite Wild Kratt is and if you have a boyfriend.

She notices that you look a little sad when you answer that one, and it piques her interest. Gabi likes to think of herself as an amateur detective, her and Oso have solved many cases already. Like the case of the missing sock—the dryer ate it, or the case of the monster in the couch—her papa snores when he falls asleep watching TV.

She is also an expert in emotions and drama, Tia Margo says so herself when Gabi figures out the plot to their favorite shows before she does.

So once the school day is almost over, and you come around to her desk to collect her first day worksheet—really, it’s a few questions about her and some really fun things to color, not work at all, which she likes—she asks why you looked sad.

“Sad? Did I look sad? Oh, don't worry, I’m not.” You reassure her, taking her worksheet and adding it to the pile in your arms.

“My papá is single, if your boyfriend makes you sad again, you can marry him instead.” She says confidently, packing up her colored pencils and pens.

“Oh—that’s very nice of you to offer, sweetheart, but I think I’ll stick with my boyfriend.” You tell her, seeming a little bit embarrassed.

She likes when you call her sweetheart, and when you smile at her, and tell her how pretty her drawings are. She wishes you were her mom, not just her teacher.

“Okay…but if you change your mind! Let me know first because Ryan’s mom is single too, and I don’t want her to try and take my papá from you.”

You laugh at that and shake your head affectionately. “You have quite the mind, don’t you?”

“My papa says I’m very smart.” She says proudly.

“And he’s right.” You squeeze her shoulder then move onto her tablemates.

Maybe she’ll ask Lyla to help her come up with a way to get your boyfriend out of the picture? There are plenty of ways, she’s seen them on the telenovelas, but she doesn’t actually know how to find someone’s evil twin. She’ll definitely have to ask Lyla about that.

Gabi isn’t worried, though, the year has just started and there’s plenty of time for you and her papá to fall in love.

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars, @sxnasbitch, @111gltzpzy, @lucilavenxoxo, @ray-rook, @elizamelody, @soapbar99, @trashieboii, @erissco, @gardenof-venus, @vlads-dracula3

TL 2: @yaoisenpaiii, @the-occasional-artist1125, @polireader, @mvchmp, @shadowxfheaven, @hxlytrin, @melomichuwu, @weirdothatwritess, @ash-aragami, @deguzu, @angelarcheangel, @nekotaetae, @milohatesspit, @lollipop974, @miggyyyyohara, @itzsab, @namjooningera, @hana-1235, @amberpanda99, @joceymoo, @tfamidoingwithmylife, @itsashree, @battinsonwhore05, @namjooningera, @tortilla-chips-and-allioli, @fluffy-koalala, @fandom-ash, @angelarcheangel, @yuuotosaka3, @latersgaters-steven, @ariparri, @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast, @lycaninelizard, @angelarcheangel, @yuuotosaka3, @allysunny, @lollipopin, @allysunny, @loves0phelia, @caslistener

#meg's writing #I just want to say thank you to all of y'all who have been with me from the beginning and all my newbies #I'm so grateful y'all give me such a supportive and loving place for all my ideas #miguel’s pastels #miguel o'hara x reader #I'm actually at 2014 but I needed time to write this XD #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

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guardkeywolf · 1 year

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Cod boys seeing their artist male readers art when they get back from a mission and they are just relaxing and they decided to ask him to see his art book since they never saw it and male reader says yes and they look through it and Is shocked how nale reader makes things so realistic.

It's... Beautiful Y/n...

Hello @gamersansblog ! I am SO SO SORRY this took so long!

I hope you enjoy it!

If there was anything that was needed after a tense mission, it was relaxation. When the boys got back from dealing with another terrorist, Laswell gave them so well needed time off and they used every second of it. Not only that, but a good friend of theirs also swing by as well.

Y/n was seen quite frequently at the 141's base, so just about everyone knew him.

Y/n was an artist who liked to sketch around their base sometimes.

The man loved making realistic drawings of them if he had the chance. Usually after 141 returned from their missions the man would be waiting there, doodling in his sketchbook. The others were quite interested to see it the first time they caught on to him being around and Y/n was more than happy to show them.

Inside, there were multiple pictures. Different mediums used, charcoal, pastel, water color, even some good ole' oil paintings. The man was very deserve in his style so he usually had a different instrument when he swung by.

Today, Y/n said he wanted to draw Price, the others a tad bit jealous that their Captain got the lucky honor of being Y/n's model but went with it nonetheless.

While Price finished the last of the paperwork he had, Y/n sat there on his couch sketching away with his graphite pencils he brought today. Though most would find the sound annoying, Price found it comforting as he heard Y/n's pencil rub against the multi-media paper. He could hear the difference between each stroke. Light and Hard.

He couldn't help but chuckle when he also looked up to see the others watching the man from behind as the man drew their Captain.

"Don't you boys have 'ork to do?" He hummed as he went back to doing his own.

"I don't mind them, Captain. After all, they were curious to see just how I manage to make it so realistic," Y/n chuckled to himself.

Price looked up and saw Ghost staring in awe at the paper, eyes widened at the probably nearly finished masterpiece. Gaz and Soap did the same as they watched over Y/n's shoulder, taking in each movement the man made as he worked.

It must have at least an hour that passed or so before the Captain heard Y/n's sketching come to a stop when hearing the "oos' and "aahs" of his men.

"Jesus Y/n, tha's amazing..." Soap said as he gazed at the photo.

"Agreed Johnny..." Ghost complimented as well baffled by the amount of detail that went into the sketch.

"Captain...you gotta' come see this, sir...it's.. it looks just like you," Gaz spoke as he looked upon the breathtaking piece.

"Guys please, your over exaggerating..." Y/n smiled up at them before walking over to the man.

Y/n turned the sketchbook towards the man slowly, smiling as he watched the man's eyes light up.

Price looked up to him, eyes full of curiosity making the artist chuckle again.

"That's...that's bloody beautiful Y/n... think I may frame it in 'ere."

"Thank you..." and he meant it.

"No problem, Captain..."

If you enjoyed reading this please feel free to REBLOG with the TAGS on!

Tags make it easier to navigate yall's Tumblr pages!

Thank you for reading again!

-Guards

#cod modren warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #captain price #john price #cod #cod mw2 #cod x male reader #guards writes

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rin-fukuroi · 5 months

Text

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤. 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 [𝐃𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐠]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Dan Heng x fem!reader

Warnings: school AU, just fluff.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Eve - 遊生夢死

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I usually don't like to write smth like this, but I made an exception by writing this work once as a bday present for my dear friend. I still think I'm not very good at feeling this character, but I hope it's not too noticeable XD

You remember exactly when it started. You remember perfectly well when your life became so unstable and restless, but happy and saturated, as if filled with bright colors for the first time.

One look. Two words that planted a feeling in your chest that could be awakened by a man who barely decided to take the first step, which he will never regret.

✧ ✧ ✧

Thoughtlessly tracing the margins in your notebook with a pencil, you get bored, yawning quietly at the last desk in the middle row. The office is filled with the tired voice of the teacher and the quiet whisper of your classmates, who can't wait to go home. Raindrops patter softly on the windows, making you even more sleepy.

Today is your birthday. How ironic that it was on this day that the sky cried from the moment you stepped outside the school.

At least you'll be able to come home soon and get some sleep.

Your gaze lazily rose to the gray clouds. For some reason, no one around seemed to care about writing a synopsis or the raging elements outside the window. This day could have been much more intense if you had friends, right? Perhaps so. But you've always been comfortable being alone. Being alone also has its charms. You are always focused on your own thoughts, not filling your head with unnecessary meaningless chatter. Yes, from the outside, friendly communication really looked quite fun, but is it really necessary if now it seems to you that everything is in its place?

You sigh softly, about to return to your notes, when your gaze catches on another bored figure by the window. Exactly. There was always someone in the class who seemed like a kind of kindred spirit to you. For sure, Dan Heng thought about his life the same way you did. You've never seen him smiling cheerfully in the company of classmates. His gaze is just as extinguished, directed at the gloomy sky. Funny… You didn't pay much attention to him, but whenever this guy came into your field of vision, he looked like your reflection.

Although you can't even remember what his voice sounds like.

This does not mean that you never had the desire to talk to him, but you often found him reading another book or leaving school alone with headphones on. Perhaps these are just excuses for your self-doubt, but you sincerely believed that your company would be superfluous for him. Dan Heng always looks so cold, detached, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by the lack of any connection with society.

Just like you.

Hmm… if you think about it, he could have been quite popular with girls if he had been more sociable. His hair always looks so well groomed. Slightly curly short black strands gently shimmer even in the dim sunlight, barely breaking through dense clouds, contrasting against the background of bright turquoise eyes. Aristocratically pale skin and pleasant facial features. Yes, Dan Heng can definitely be called handsome. Maybe he's even your type.

Although, how do you know what your taste in guys is, because you've never fallen in love.

But when those expressive sea-green eyes meet yours, for some reason my heart feels so restless in my chest. Is it out of fear that you seem to have been staring at Dan Heng for a while so obviously that you even managed to get his attention? Yes, but… it was like there was something else.

You look away, burying your face even more in the palm of your hand propping up your head, turning back to your notebook. It was probably the first time you made eye contact with him. What is this feeling? Somehow… It's restless.

You flinch when you finally hear the loud sound of a life-saving bell, knocking you out of your embarrassing thoughts. It must have been so long since you talked to anyone but your parents that even such a small thing could throw you into confusion.

You hurriedly gather your things from the table, scooping them into a bag before heading for the exit, following the crowd that has already managed to run out into the corridor, when a strange hand of the man behind lands on your desk, enclosing you between his body and a chair.

«Wh-what?..»

You turn around uncertainly, facing the chest of a guy with an indifferent expression on his face. The fright on your face is gradually replaced by complete puzzlement.

— D-Dan Heng? Something happened? — has your voice always sounded so quiet or just this time?

— Did you bring an umbrella today?

— Huh? An umbrella? — your eyes widen with even more shock when two things put you in a stupor at once. This is a Tribute to Heng. He's talking to you right now. And asks… About the umbrella?! You're hardly sure you've ever heard his voice, but what he said now seems absolutely absurd.

— It's raining outside. I saw you looking out the window and thought you might not have brought an umbrella.

— Oh, that's right… Um… — you're nervously going over all the memories in your head up to the moment you left the house. And really…

Your thoughtful look, replaced by confusion, said more to Dan Heng than your tongue was able to utter now.

— We live not far from each other. I spend.

✧ ✧ ✧

«What's going on?!»

You awkwardly huddle with a silent classmate under an umbrella as you walk steadily in complete silence to the sound of raindrops hitting the asphalt. There are so many questions in your head that you would like to ask, but for some reason the words get stuck deep in your throat. How the hell does he know where you live? Why did I come up to you with such a strange offer in the first place? Why today?

There must have been some truth in the rumors that Dan Heng was a strange guy who didn't walk around the classroom quietly enough.

You give the guy short glances, having time to notice how calm he looks in such a situation. The same as always. You also notice how his shoulder gets wet from the incessant rain while he holds an umbrella over your figure, which is moving further away from him.

How embarrassing is this… You are gradually approaching Dan Heng, feeling the heat tingle your cheeks even under the cool breeze. It's just to avoid feeling guilty. No more than that.

The longer the silence hung over you, the more clearly your heart was throbbing somewhere in your ears, making you even more nervous. Are you so uncomfortable just because it's practically a stranger to you, or is it because it's Dan Heng?

Your eyes light up when the fence of your house is visible on the horizon. You can finally get through this stress alone.

— Um… we're here.

You both stop, and a short sigh leaves Dan Heng's chest, giving you an unreadable look from top to bottom. You've never thought about how much taller he is than you, but now it seemed like you were nothing more than a scared kitten cowering at his feet.

— Yes. Then… Till tomorrow.

Dan Heng's lips pursed up, and his gaze was blunted somewhere in the asphalt under his feet, which made you relax a little. Ah… he's probably embarrassed too, because you really look alike. It is unlikely that Dan Heng is used to communicating with anyone. He gives the impression of a man who voluntarily chose solitude, but for some reason he exudes sadness, the nature of which you cannot understand. You wanted to ask why he decided to accompany you, why today… But you just nod, grabbing the strap of your bag, hurriedly running to the door.

— Y/N!

For some reason, you were almost sure that this was not the end. Exactly… It wasn't sadness.

You turn around, meeting Dan Heng's furrowed brows, flushed cheeks and sparkling turquoise eyes as he tightens his grip on the umbrella in his hand, looking at you, seeming to carefully consider what he wants to say.

— Happy birthday…

— Huh? — it seemed to you that your heart turned over in your chest, pausing for those few moments that felt like an eternity while you stared into Dan Heng's deep eyes. In these quiet waves, which shimmer with soft ripples in his eyes, you can read tenderness, awe, which creep through your body with a tremor that you have never felt before. Your stomach is cramping with an unpleasant, but such a warm feeling that makes you even more nervous. It's all like a fever attack that will kill you if you don't hide behind your door right now.

You open your lips, whispering your answer, which probably only the rain hitting the roof of your house has heard.

— Thank you…

But Dan Heng heard you. That's probably why he hurried to turn around and head home as soon as possible, in order to hide the way the corners of his lips lifted in a soft smile under a wet umbrella.

#headcanons #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai:star rail x reader #honkai:star rail #hsr fluff #fluff #dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng fluff #hsr drabbles

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dollxmania · 2 years

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ㅤㅤㅤ ❝ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄！❞

no tws, mildly suggestive, gn reader. established ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ relationship with vice dormleaders. do not send me requests, thanks. not proof-read!!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎no context, only smooch. single paragraph snippets to get my author’s brain working. please feel free to imagine a scenario before/after the snippet.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ❝ 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒. ❞

— TREY CLOVER. ꒱·˚

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ coming from behind, he wrapped his arms around your waist, he peppered kisses along your neck to your jaw, capturing your lips in a kiss as you tilted your head towards him. biting your bottom lip, you whimpered as he pushed his tongue in, one hand still around your waist, the other trailing up your body and into your hair, ruffling it. pulling away with a small pant, he gave you a cheeky grin. “good morning, baking already?” Trey asked, giving you no time to talk as he leaned in for another kiss.

— RUGGIE BUCCHI. ꒱·˚

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ tackling you to the ground, his fingers ran down your hips and begun tickling you, a wicked grin on his face. “ready to give in?” he chuckled as he watch your face flushed, panting as it became hard to breathe between the tickles and him beginning to sit on you. “i’ll ask again,” he teased, leaning down, “giving in?” nodding frantically so he’d stop the tickles, Ruggie’s grin only widened as his lips met yours, biting down and claiming his victory.

— JADE LEECH. ꒱·˚

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “and where do you think you’re going?” he questioned, tugging at your wrist and catching you against his chest, a teasing smiling tugging his lips. “to think my own lover would leave me like this before such a busy shift.” he faked a tear, only to swiftly move his hand from grabbing your’s to intertwined, and the other against your lower back as he pressed his lips against your’s, deepening the kiss. panting, you stare at him with half-lidded eyes, only for Jade to smile and walk away. “i suppose i’ll ready for my shift.”

— JAMIL VIPER. ꒱·˚

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ his fingers ghosted against your skin as they trailed down your arm, reaching towards the pencil and correcting the answer you wrote down. “like this,” his hot breath whispered into your ear as you try to focus on the equation, rather than how you were sat in his lap with his other arm tightly clutching you. “are you paying attention?” he questioned, glimpsing at you before chuckling, catching you off guard in a kiss. accepting his kiss, Jamil deepened it, refusing to part until you were left breathless, a string of saliva connecting you both. “if you want another, then get the next one right.”

— ROOK HUNT. ꒱·˚

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ kissing your knee, he looked into your eyes, reaching to move the stray hair out of your face. “mon cherie,” he smiled, inching closer to you. “i’ll kiss all your bruises away, and make you feel better.” moving his fingers through your hair to tracing your bottom lip, he gave you a chaste kiss before deepening it, trapping you against the tree before you knew it, “so much better.” he muttered before Rook begun showering you with kisses where your bruises weren’t.

— LILIA VANROUGE. ꒱·˚

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “i’m cute you say?” he questioned, a mischievous smile forming on his features. with almost no effort, he pushed you against the desk, trapping you as his eyes gazed over at your lips. wrapping your arms around his neck, he flashed another quick smile you’d just called cute before gently nibbling on your bottom lip. opening your mouth, his tongue explored each and every crevice as you were unable to fight back for control. “do you still think i’m just cute?” Lilia questioned as he watched you pant, wiping away the saliva from his mouth, smiling cheekily.

©dollXMANIA ꒱·˚ - the editing took me well over two hours, maybe one but main point managed to power through via maririn’s stream<33. look at the character’s eyes as colors cause no otherwise that makes no sense.

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hrts4wonu · 5 months

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minghaos who takes his time when drawing any portrait of you, making sure to get every detail of your beauty

a/n: oh my god jasmine??? i just started reading your fanfics last night and let me tell you, i was so damn obsessed; i'm not sure if this is a hard thought or anything but i did try to make it smut (with a little bit of fluff and comfort)

wc: 1.7k

today was like any other day. well, not technically. today was your boyfriend's project's due date. he was supposed to draw a portrait of the person that means a lot to him; though he first thought of his very own mother, he remembered the first few words you said when you met him.

(flashback)

those few sweet words that came out of your mouth like it was nothing; "i love your artstyle, maybe you should draw your future girlfriend, yeah?" you chuckle as he turned to look at you. "pardon?" he says, a little confused.

"i'm talking about me, hao." he laughs at your straightforwardness and displays a warm smile at you while he remains seated.

you laugh along comfortably, sitting next to him while staring at the canvas that was filled with colorful strokes of red, orange, yellow, blue and pink. "you assume too much, don't y'think?" he teased as he cups your cheeks, tucking your hair behind your ear. "well, you never know, do you?" both of you chuckle together before he picks up his paintbrush and finishes his artwork.

(end of flashback)

that was long ago, yet, the memory itself never fails to melt his heart. though, he couldn't deny; he has drew you before. a couple of times actually.

the problem was, all of them just seemed bad to him. he doodled and sketched your face everyday in class; thinking that everytime he drew you with a different pen or pencil, his sketches get more terrible each day. (and yet he still managed to get good grades even though he doesn't pay attention in class because he's always drawing you)

and so, he never showed you, until you found his sketchbook in his room on your 5th monthsary. he was pretty embarrassed about it, but your praises on his drawings were enough to boost his ego and confidence.

while he quietly sits down on his chair, staring into his computer, he slowly turns to look at you with a nervous smile on his face.

"darling," he starts off, standing up and approaching you on the bed. you hum in response, dropping your phone and looking back at him. "do you want to become my reference? it's for an art project."

you nod, changing your position on the bed. "what do you need me to wear? a dress, or--"

"need you nude, baby." the temptation from his voice was enough to electrify something inside of you; feeling a bit flustered from what he said. "..if you're comfortable with it, of course. i wouldn't want to make myself look like i'm into creepy things like this, yeah?" he adds. "if you really don't wanna, it's fi--"

"mm." you shook your head no. "it's fine," though it seemed aberrant to minghao (because of how much of a gentleman he is), the longing ache in you was basically killing you.

a few minutes later, you slowly got out of the bathroom with a robe on. you were nervous of him judging you, the way your body was built, your skin tone, or maybe that was just your neediness that's getting to you.

he puts on a smile and gives you a warm hug, "take it off when you're ready, hm?" minghao whispers in your ear, leaving a small kiss.

you nod, "yeah."

minghao slowly lets go and stands behind his canvas; squeezing out all the paint onto his palette. he quickly grabs his paintbrush and starts speaking up once more, "hey," he sat down on the tiny chair. "there's still time to back out if you're really not into thi--"

"minghao? is there something wrong?" you throw your robe to the side, crossing your arms which squished your tits from below a bit.

he shook his head, "no, not at all." he looks away and focuses back on his canvas.

minghao couldn't help but stare at you for a bit longer, he didn't know what to say or do at all. it's not like there is a problem- it's that you're there, with no clothes on, and you're on full display.

but besides that, you're gorgeous.

absolutely admirable and so, so, so, so, so beautiful. to him and only him. maybe even to the whole world.

countless hours pass by and minghao was finally done with his work, "baby?" he stands up and dusts his hands off.

"did you fall aslee- oh." you quietly let out muffled moans as you try fingering yourself on the sofa; if only you could see the greed and devotion in his eyes while he painted your figure, he would've dropped his paintbrushes to the floor and take care of you already.

the sweet smile on his face disappears and instead turns into a wicked yet sinister smirk.

minghao cups your cheeks. "let me help you baby, yeah?" he coos, crouching down to give you a soft kiss on the lips before falling onto his knees.

"p-please.." you beg, withdrawing your hand from your pussy but before you could wipe it on the couch, minghao grabs it and slides it in his mouth, licking your small digits that were unlike his long, veiny hands. "hao.." you whine at the sight.

"what is it, pretty girl?" he places his hands on both of your thighs, spreading them apart. "need me?"

you nod. "i've been longing, hao."

he starts kissing your inner thighs; wet lips enough to get you even wetter than you were 10 seconds ago. though your legs were now resting on his shoulder, he still had a firm grasp on them. his nails dug onto your skin, leaving temporary crescent-shaped nail marks onto them.

"so have i, darling." he replies, leaning in towards your pussy, his nose bumping with your clit.

you whine when you feel the pleasure; it's overwhelming, yes, but it feels so good that you can't even utter a single word. not even a single one, the only thing you can let out is a moan.

he licks your pussy's lips and starts eating you out, the sweet taste not leaving his tongue. "f..fuck, hao,"

"mind your language or i'm gonna leave you aching on this sofa, y/n." he threatens and you slightly look away in embarrassment when you saw his bloodthirsty eyes darken in lust. "you wouldn't want that, would you?" he leans back, away from you as the wind's cold breeze comes in contact with your skin.

you shook your head no gently, replying to his question. "well, it's not like you could ever leave me hanging like that, hao." you tease.

he scoffs; "there's always a first time for everything, sweetheart. you should know that." he stood up and quickly switches your position in missionary, pinning you down on the sofa and pressing your legs against your chest and his.

"but, hey." you look at him in confusion as he unzips his pants and pulls his cock out. it was long and veiny, t'was so outstanding and beautiful. something so out of this world. "contrary to what mingyu said before," he breathes, fixing his position on top of you as he leans close enough to your ear. "most of the greatest works of art don't know how great they are not because they're unreal, instead, it's because they don't see the talent in the artist's eyes that were enough to make the painting as appealing as it already is." his hot breath against your ear makes you tremble, "you're just like an artwork, you know?" he teases.

"really?" he nods. "you think so?" your cute puppy eyes, begging and pleading for his angry, red tip was enough to send him to the edge but as punishment, he will make you wait longer.

after a few more minutes of teasing, he finally gives in and thrusts inside of you.

you moan loudly, holding onto his body, yet it seemed so unfair because you were basically naked and he still had his shirt on. "mm.." he looks at you, stopping his thrusting as he felt a little confused.

"what is it, hm?" you slowly tug at his shirt and he finally gets it. "ah, i see." he smirks and takes his shirt off.

he goes back to thrusting inside of you and you let out another moan, "m-mmh!"; he grunts as he thrusts even harder, not stopping for even a breath.

you squirm, putting your hand over your mouth to keep your mouth shut yet you can't help yourself but moan even louder. he notices this and he stops for a moment, leaving you hanging which made you ache for more (though it's not like he could pull out because your pussy was basically sucking him back in), grabbing your hand pinning them over your head as he fucks into you.

"h..hao!" you moan loudly as you felt him hitting that 'sweet spot' inside of you. "hao.." you breathe, starting to pant as your legs start trembling. "i-.. i'm so close.." you whine continuously as his hand lets go of your wrists, traveling down to your nipples.

he rubs them gently, leaning in and licking them clean. minghao does the same for the other breast making you moan and yearn for more;

"i..i'm gonna cum, please.." you beg.

"please what, baby?" he smirks, pulling his lips away from your lips and staring into your doe eyes. "tell me," he starts. "tell me what you need, i'll give you everything. every single thing just for you, my lovely, pretty girl."

you look at him with desire and thirst. "need to cum, please.."

everything was testing him; no, no, no.. that's not the right word, is it? let's try that again-- everything was arousing him. it felt like you were tormenting eachother using their own bodies. everything was so tempting to him, he couldn't help but give in; "cum for me, princess," he says with a smirk on his face. "do it, make me proud, okay?"

it wasn't that long until you reach your climax and you came on his cock. he helps you ride your orgasm until he reaches his, planting his seed inside of you.

the both of you catch your breathes together before he pulls out of you and places a warm, loving kiss on your temple; "come on, let's clean you up, hm?" despite being exhausted, you shot him a smile and he stood up, carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. "mhm.." you manage to say, still trying to catch your breath from what had just happened.

"hao, i love you." you say, with a smile on your face as you return his kiss back, instead, this time it was on his lips. "i love you too, baby."

a/n 2: sorry this took so long,, i had work and i was slightly busy.. but anyways, i'm FINALLY done! it didn't turn out how i expected it to be yet i still think it's a little better than what i usually write. besides that, i'm really, really glad to make a minghao fanfic so please ask / request for more <3

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dreamersbcll · 7 months

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I think I’m finally clean

- a piece for myself; an ode to one year sober

——————————————————————————

Sam didn’t know how to bring it up. It was the elephant in the room, the weight on her chest. The anxiety pressed down on her lungs, making breathing hard. The worst part is, it was good news that she couldn’t get out.

One year. One whole year of sobriety. No drugs, no drinks, no bars. Just walking the straight and narrow and keeping her nose clean.

It was the most exhaustive thing Sam had ever willingly done.

She knew this was a significant accomplishment- hell, a major victory- but she couldn’t quite believe it. None of it felt tangible or even remotely meaningful. Sam knows that she worked hard to achieve this. Why couldn’t she accept that she had done a good thing?

Perhaps it was the guilt. The hot shame that sat in her throat, burning holes each time she spoke the truth. Getting clean and sober was a good thing, especially since she did it for herself only. But good things weren’t in her favor. She had quite the track record for screwing up.

Yet despite all her efforts to self-sabotage, she was here, in a shitty folding chair in a dingy room, waiting to announce her anniversary to a bunch of strangers. In a way, it was poetic, Sam Carpenter, the sinner, confessing once again for her own personal crimes.

But everyone had their own demons and reasons to be, and Sam was just a tiny voice in a very large crowd.

That’s what she told herself anyway.

“Alright! Anyone else want to share?” chirped the chairperson. Sharon, maybe.

Sam holds her breath, willing everyone to stay quiet. She was bursting to share and needed to before she exploded into a million half-assed apologies and used bottle caps.

Thankfully, everyone heard her silent prayers and stayed quiet.

Clapping her hands together, Sharon spoke with hope. “Okay. Does anybody have an anniversary to celebrate?”

Immediately, Sam’s hand shot up, refusing to be ignored. Smiling, Sharon beckoned Sam to the podium.

Now, Sam Carpenter wasn’t a stranger to speaking to mirrors, and this crowd of people wasn’t any different. Reflected to Sam was her, all of her, in other bodies and life stories. Once an addict is always an addict, the addiction runs deep in their veins.

Breathing out, Sam began.

“Hi, I’m Sam. I’m one year clean today, and I'd like to share a story with you all,” she huskily said, her voice thick with emotion.

Her reflection nodded back to her, and so she began.

——

“Sammy.”

Looking up from her sketchbook, Sam raised an eyebrow at her little sister. Tara was lying across her feet, her little head on Sam’s ankles. Instead of playing with her toys or reading her big-girl chapter books, Tara was staring at the ceiling, her brow furrowed.

“What’s up, honey?” Sam mused, putting down her colored pencil.

Tara chewed on her lip, a worried frown on her face. Her baby sister was wise for her age, but even though Tara was a little too astute for a seven-year-old, she was still that—a child. Sam was constantly reminded that she was raising a sensitive child, even if she was quiet and careful.

Sam reached her arms out, beckoning Tara to her. Her little sister scrambled up, immediately crashing into Sam’s arms. She grunted a bit at the force Tara managed to construe but still held her little girl close.

“Oof. Hey baby. What’s going on? Are you okay?” she murmured, kissing her hair.

Her little sister just shuddered, eyes fluttering shut at the kiss. “Sammy, I don’t want to be like mommy,” she whimpered, wiggling deeper into Sam’s ribs.

Pausing, Sam let the words roll through her brain. This wasn’t the conversation she expected. She should’ve known Tara picks up on more than she realizes.

“Well, what do you mean, baby?”

Tara shrugged. “She’s mean. And loud. And when she drinks, she hurts us. I don’t wanna be mean. Will I be mean?”

As if all the oxygen was sucked from the room, Sam breathed deeply. Of course, Tara would pick up on Christina’s careless alcoholism. She was too intelligent and intuitive for her own good

Sam hummed. “No baby, you won’t be like her. You won’t be mean. You will be good, I know it,” she soothed, rubbing circles on Sam’s back.

Her little sister sniffled a bit. “Will you be mean like mommy?” she softly asked, her voice barely registering above a whisper.

Her body stiffened, her back ramrod straight. She was only twelve, but she knew her mom wasn’t any good. Christina was a liar and a cold-hearted manipulator. She didn’t care, and she took what she pleased, offering nothing in return. Sam would never be like her.

“No. I will not be mean like her. I won’t let myself or you follow her steps. Okay? I’ve got us. I promise,” she sharply said.

Tara jerkily nodded against Sam, holding onto fistfuls of Sam’s shirt as if she was about to fall off the face of the earth. Sam held back just as tight. She wouldn’t let herself or Tara fall off the wagon like Christina always did.

That’s what she told herself at twelve years old, anyway.

——

“And now, at twenty-two years old, I am proud to say that I am officially one year clean from substance abuse and alcohol. I am new, and I am alive.”

Sam cleared her throat, her vision blurring. She could feel her throat choke up, her skin flushed with incoming tears. It truthfully took everything in her not to ugly cry, but she promised herself to make it through this. So she would.

“And I am not my mother. I am better than her. I am clean; I am whole and alive,” she firmly said, refusing to let her voice waver.

It took a second, but the room burst in a round of applause; a few scattered congratulations and whoops could be heard among the noise. Sam released her grip from the podium, breathing in the feeling of success.

No. Hope.

That was an odd feeling. Hope. The fluttering bird in her chest gently asked to be freed and followed. The smell of budding spring flowers and cold winter days. It always followed her, a thin ribbon in the middle of her ribcage, holding her bones together.

Sam wasn’t used to leaning into the hope, the curiosity of what could be. But today, in a room full of people like herself, she could feel the warmth splash over her face, holding her like the sun after a long rain shower.

She was clean. She was whole. She was alive.

And she had forgiven herself for her past to build a stable future. One with someone she missed some deadly; the only other person she had fought to get clean for real.

Maybe, just maybe, one day, her sister could forgive her, too.

But for now, she was alive. That was enough.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #AU: protect my heart #my writing tag #this is a letter to myself telling me i’m okay #sam carpenter and i are the same #projecting a little bit onto sam sorry

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befuddled-calico-whump · 4 months

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Total$hit$how: Valuable

in which Hunter doesn't want to disappoint

cw: referenced violence, adult language, migraine

previous ///// masterlist /////

×~×~×

The patterns got sharper the sharper he looked, their edges stabbing at his eyes, starting an ache in the sockets that wouldn't go away.

Hunter kept looking at them anyway. Headaches were basically just imaginary pain, and fuck if he'd be slowed down by something imaginary. He'd been practicing his finding skills as often as he could since his first meeting with Vic. Day one had been shitty. He'd gone to bed with throbbing eyes and hadn't even managed to find one stupid fork.

“Try again,” Vic had said, nothing frustrated or irritated in his voice, nothing shifting in his color. “I know you can do it. Just keep trying.”

So he did, paying no attention to his lingering headache. And eventually, he found what he was seeking. It was just a dumb little yellow pencil, tucked away in the dust behind a desk in the library, but he found it. The only problem was, he didn’t know how. Had it been intuition? A lucky guess?

“You need to pay attention to how you get there,” Vic said. “Otherwise, how will you replicate the results? Try again.”

Hunter tried again. Again and again and again until it felt like his eyes were fucking bleeding. It didn’t matter, he didn’t care. He wouldn’t screw this up. He’d become whatever good thing Vic saw in him if it killed him.

Patterns started making more sense; bubbles turning to razor-sharp blades when he focused on them, asked them to lead him, and it hurt, but it didn’t matter as long as it was working.

The bomb trial was for him, he knew it had to be. It was for him, but he’d nearly fucked it up when the bots came buzzing by, electricity wrapping around him like twitchy purple vines, tighter and tighter until he’d blacked out.

And then… then the big guy had woken him up. Said they needed Hunter, that they couldn’t do it without him. His color was brighter than usual, probably panic at the maybe-bomb, but Hunter had hardly paid attention to it, because they needed him. And fuck, had he ever really been needed? Not just as extra hands or extra eyes, but for something he alone could give?

The big guy called him a compass. A pointer for the lost. More than a set of fists. He knew it was thanks to the implant that he could be more. And it was thanks to Vic that he knew he could try.

“You did good today.” His handler had come to get him not long after they all had reached the kitchen, a few minutes after muscle girl started burning pancakes.

“I found the bomb,” Hunter said with a shrug. “That’s it.”

“To anyone else, that would be an impossible feat,” Vic said.

“Yeah, probably.” Hunter leaned back in his chair, craning his neck to look up at the ceiling. His skull was still throbbing from his impossible feat, the pain forming colors of its own. Purple and green like a bruise, pulsing around his head like a halo.

“What did you see when you were in the maze?” Vic asked. “How did you find it?”

Hunter closed his eyes, trying to make himself remember. When he first entered the maze, he’d thought about the bomb, thought about trying to find it, wanted to find it, and a pattern had sprung into existence; a trail of knife-edged crumbs to follow. Sometimes other patterns would get in the way, looking similar enough to throw him off, but by now he knew it was always the one that hurt the most to look at that was the right one.

He tried explaining as much to Vic, but his words never sounded half as good as he planned for them to be. Still, at the end of his stumbling description, the pleased stripe of blue hadn’t faded from his handler’s green.

“I knew you were capable,” Vic said with a grin. “You’re the most valuable member of the team, you know that?”

Hunter cocked his head. “You think so?”

“Yes. Now don’t go spreading that to the others, I don’t need them thinking I pick favorites.” He chuckled. “Even if I do.”

More than more, the implant made him a most. Better than whatever shit the rest of the team brought to the table, at least in Vic’s eyes, and did anyone else’s eyes really matter?

“Okay. Good,” he said. “Good, sir.” The blue brightened.

“Now, I know I told everyone else to take the rest of the day, but we both know you’re a cut above the rest. I have a few more training exercises I’d like to run you through before I release you.”

“What, now?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No,” Hunter said, then added in a mumble, “I mean, my head kind of hurts.” More than that, he was kinda tired after the maze. Tired and sore and still feeling a little shaky from the bot attacks. Being cornered the first time was shitty enough, but he was mostly just pissed that they’d managed to find him so fast. The second zap though, that made him just want to curl up in bed for the rest of the day. Not that he would.

Vic raised an eyebrow. “Is that a side effect?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

The blue faded. Not a lot, but enough to send a jolt through Hunter’s chest. Disappointing Vic was worse than being tired. Worse than a headache. You can’t fuck this up.

“But it’s not a problem,” he said quickly. “I can do whatever.”

The blue came back in full force. “Excellent. Now, I noticed you seemed a little overwhelmed when you reached the device itself—”

“You were watching?”

“Yes,” Vic said. “Through the cameras in the drones.” He chuckled. “Though I lost control of both at the end. Miss Cavan really did a number on them.”

Hunter’s eyebrows scrunched together at that. “Lost control?”

“As advanced as our AI modules are, there’s nothing like a human touch.”

“You were driving them?” Hunter said.

“Piloting is the preferred term—”

“You were driving them,” he repeated, half in disbelief. So it hadn’t been bad luck, it had been Vic seeking him out, it had been Vic shocking him.

Vic clicked his tongue. “I see what this is. Are you upset I went after you?”

“No…” he replied, but wasn’t he? He thought Vic liked him. Why would he zap him if he liked him? Twice?

Vic sighed, standing up. Hunter scooted away in his seat as the older man came to stand beside him. The chlorine smell clung to him, like a faint cologne.

“You know it’s because I thought you could handle it, right?” he said, laying a hand on Hunter’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I wouldn’t have done it if I thought you couldn’t take it. I know you aren’t weak, Hunter.”

He wasn’t. He could take it, did take it.

“And I can’t very well give you special treatment during training. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I know.” It did make sense, the big guy’d gotten shocked too, so he shouldn’t be upset. He didn’t know why he was even upset in the first place. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been hurt before, by peers and bosses and family, but it felt like it should be different with Vic. Not like he should ever expect it to be different, but didn’t Vic say he was special? Valuable?

“Look at me.”

Hunter lifted his chin, meeting Vic’s eyes. He wasn’t sulking, he wasn’t upset, this was fine. Vic had both hands on his shoulders now, and was looking down at him with an expression he couldn’t read, though the blue was a steady ribbon through him.

“I want to do what’s best for you, Hunter. I want you to have survivability for this mission.” He smiled, something soft. “I want you to come back after.”

After. He hadn’t thought about after, of crawling back to Jelly or ending up alone again. Did after mean he didn’t have to? Did it mean Vic wanted him to stay?

“Can you trust me to look out for you? To do what’s best?”

Hunter nodded. He felt stupid now, for being upset about it. Of course Vic knew his shit, he’d been doing this for years. He’d be an idiot to act like he was wrong about any of this spy fuckery. If Vic said it was to help him survive, to help him come back, it had to be right. Right?

“Good boy.”

Something warm swept through his chest at the words, and he knew he’d do what he had to in order to hear them again.

“Now that we have that little matter cleared up, let’s get on with your training, mhm?” His hands left Hunter’s shoulders, fingers trailing a blue-green heat, the chlorine smell strong enough to choke on. His headache wasn’t going away, it would get worse with the training, but Hunter didn’t care.

I want you to come back after.

He’d do whatever it took to keep Vic meaning those words.

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations

#what's this? more sad hunter hours?#you betcha #total$hit$how #migraine whump #tw manipulation

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holdmeclosebutdontloveme · 1 year

Text

Warning: boobs, nipples. Getting wet by H2O, literally.

He’s a pervert.

A grown ass man ogling their lover watering the damn flowers she planted months ago. The zinnias, the bougainvillea, and the sunflowers. All crowd up the entire space of his backyard.

He also can’t forget the hostas, the cylindrical snake plants, and the pencil cacti he had to carry multiple times with his gal indecisive of their permanent placement.

All for the promise of a good lay afterwards.

And what a good lay it was, Kishibe reminisces.

He takes a sip of his iced hibiscus tea, grimacing slightly from its sour taste but overall a good beverage to combat the summer heat. It’s something she wanted him to try and, well, he indulges. The hammock, too, was something she convinced him to assemble in the veranda and now here he lies comfortably to a suggestive sight.

Her.

The sheer tank top he bought looks good on her and a better alternative to the long sleeves and thick hoodies she used to wear despite the weather. Although, Kishibe couldn’t hide nor lie with his ulterior motive. Her areolas have always been a shade darker from her complexion, it’s something he has always been fascinated by.

It taunts him, teases him with its creases as her nipples harden. Yes, her nipples didn’t help him either.

He’s a boobs’ man and she’s a testimony to his perversion.

Sprinkles of water darken what already was a thin sheer fabric to an obvious transparent material. And her abdomen was the first to get wet, emphasizing her curves underneath the tank top.

Her shorts got wet too. Its hem sags the entire thing down and Kishibe only manages to get a good look of the garter of her underwear.

Which was fine but it’s not something he was looking forward to peek at.

“Kishibe!” She calls out to him. Guess, he got caught but he wasn’t hiding his gawking either.

With a smirk on her face, she accuses, “you’re a pervert!”

He admits, “not like I can disagree with that, sweetheart.”

Kishibe sits up from the hammock, his feet stepping out of the shade of the veranda and felt the summer heat on his skin. He quickly had to pull his toes out before he barbecues himself.

Then, he looks at her, worried.

It’s a miracle she’s enduring the heat of the sun for about twenty minutes or so, especially without a hat or sunglasses to cover herself up. Sunscreen can only do so much regardless how much she applied on her face, neck, and arms.

“You almost done with the plants, sweetheart?” Kishibe questions as he refills her glass with the cold beverage.

“Hm, just making sure the bougainvillea are extra wet then I’m good for today,” she answers, moving closer to the veranda to tend to the flowers nearby.

He manages to get a closer look at her. From her glistening hands to the sweat rolling down the sides of her face. Kishibe notices that the back of her tank top was sticking to her skin too.

“Okay, I’m finished,” she announces and turns the faucet off. The hose was dumped to its side before facing Kishibe with a grin on her face.

Her tank top now completely soaked, looking heavy than it is when dry. It sticks to her skin that the sheer white color have been replaced with her complexion. And, with it, comes to the obvious darker shade from the two tiny protruding bumps on her chest - her nipples accompanied by her areolas.

��Like what you see, old man?” She teases and strides towards a quiet Kishibe to get her drink from the table near the hammock.

But before she could, however. Kishibe was quick to grab her by the wrist and pushes her down on the hammock and yet shock didn’t flash in her eyes. Instead she welcomes the hunger that darken in his.

#kishibe x reader #kishibe x you #kishibe chainsaw man #kishibe csm #kishibe x y/n

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gamesception · 2 months

Text

Sception Reads Cass Cain #39

Batgirl (2000) #19 - October 2001 Writer: Kelley Puckett..........Pencils: Damion Scott Inks: Robert Campanella.....Colors: Jason Wright

Another memorable one shot story in what has become the definitive Cass Cain story mold. I don't think I'll have too much to say about this issue specifically. Those who were fans back in the day surely remember it, and if you're new to Cass's Batgirl run then as always for this early period it's a good book and I encourage you to go out and read the issue for yourself, especially since work has been busy this week, so I don't really have time to go through this issue in detail.

Still, by way of brief recap, this is the one where Cass is patrolling extra hard, determined that literally nobody in Gotham should die that night, when she's distracted by a news broadcast:

Wait, whatever state Gotham is in has the death penalty? Then why do all the super criminals never yadda yadda cinema sins ding sound.

The guy himself is super stoic about it. No sign of repentance or reflection or regret, but he's clearly accepted what's about to happen and determined to face it with some degree of dignity.

But then cast abducts him mid-execution

Only to be stopped by the mother of the woman he killed. I know I'm rushing through this summary, but just, the faces in these panels are so good. Cass's pleading and heartbreak, the woman's implacable stone-faced determination in the face of this demon-looking vigilante, the way the murderer, shocked out of his stoicism, can't bring himself to face this woman. Also just thematically, the metaphor here for Cass's own internal struggle with guilt, that no matter how much she's changed, no matter how much good she does as Batgirl, the man she killed, someone's son, maybe someone's father, is still dead, and she can never change that. It's extremely blunt and on the nose, but it works.

So anyway, back the murderer goes, only now that his stoic shell has broken he can no longer face his end with peaceful dignity. All Cass managed to achieve was to make his death more horrific.

And of course we find out that the reason Cass was so determined that nobody should die is that this was the anniversary of the murder she committed. Which of course is a very Bruce-like sort of sentimentality.

....

We've seen this sort of stand alone episodic one shot from Cass several times now. As much as I like the more serialized stuff playing with her various relationships to Bruce, Babs, the rest of the Bat family, or her dad, or her mom (as of yet unconfirmed by canon), these sorts of one shots really do seem to be the stories og Cass worked best in, the stories she was designed for even. While we've talked about this before, here a short bullet-point review of what defines a classic 'Cass Cain story' from her early Batgirl period

Stand alone story. One issue of the comic, one complete story. It might presume familiarity with Cass's character and background, but they're generally meant to be satisfying even if this is your first introduction to Cass.

Human focus. Cass's stories are concerned not with aliens and demigods and magic and science so fictional it might as well be magic and other larger-than-life comic book tropes, rather they're focused on relatable human characters, regular people trying to survive in a dispassionate world.

Somber tone. Cass's stories aren't upbeat action adventures where good triumphs over evil. The overall tone isn't fun, it's sorrow, grief, isolation, where light and hope are all the more precious for how rare and fragile they are.

'Street level' antagonists / no costumed criminals. This is arguably necessary to maintain the above focus and tone, but no super villains whose bombastic gimmicks and personalities would distract from the humanity of the everyday people around them. Even in the rare case when an enemy has super powers - "Meta" in issue 3, Kenny in issue 10, the cybernetic assassin in issue 18 - they're still dressed in more or less normal clothes and treated as regular people, not comic book super villains. And even then they're the minority of antagonists, usually Cass is fighting regular street thugs and mob guys, even though she's arguably the most explicitly superpowered member of the bat family, which in turn minimizes the length and importance of action scenes so the story can focus on human drama and personal themes.

Heavy thematic resonance. Cass as a character is about family - the family we're born to, or that we choose, and about the tension that results when a family member genuinely loves you and yet is still terrible for you or to you. And she's a character about doing the right thing even when it's hard, even when it doesn't seem to make anything better. And she's a character about guilt, about what it does to you, about how it can motivate you to do better while still hollowing you out inside, about how penance alone without the catharsis of absolution is a bottomless pit that will never be filled no matter how many acts of contrition you pour into it. These themes are the core of Cass's character, and her most iconic stories all relate back to one or more of these core theme in some way. "My dad's bad, isn't he" "Maybe he did [change], but my daughter is still dead"

Not every issue of Cass's book has fit into this description, but when she's not caught up in some crossover story or going through some significant shift to her status quo, these are the sorts of stories she's engaging with on a regular basis. Again, these are arguably the stories she works best in.

I've made no secret of the fact that, while I like modern Cass and I'm glad she exists, she doesn't really hit the same to me as Cass classic. And yeah, a big part of that is that her history and relationships just aren't the same. She doesn't have the same fraught relationship with her father, there are no parallels between David and Bruce, Bruce isn't particularly central to how she became a hero - he wasn't even Batman at the time. She didn't become a hero by stepping into a legacy role Babs had left behind, so there wasn't this close generational connection between her and Babs, or even any particular relationship between them at all until a good deal later.

She still felt guilty over killing someone, but it was something she was forced to do under threat, not something she willingly did only to suddenly regret it in the aftermath, so the guilt seems a lot more misplaced. Also everyone knew about it from pretty early on and forgives her for it, there isn't the same period of her actively hiding it sure that everyone would reject her if they found out like we talked about last time.

So yeah, so, so much of her history and relationships are completely different, but something I maybe haven't focused on enough is that her stories are different.

From the moment modern Cass is introduced she's tied up in global conspiracies, the league of assassins, people turning into monsters. She's on teams with super-powered allies fighting costumed super-criminals in serialized stories that take years to play out to any meaningful resolution. The concise, street-level stories focused on the individual humanity of the people involved and on connecting her stories to her history by thematic links... I haven't read all of modern Cassandra's appearances, but I've read enough of them to say that these kinds of stories either simply aren't present or are overwhelmingly in the minority.

Even in the 'Batgirls' title that sadly ended last year, with Cass, Steph, and Babs are working and living together, theoretically my all time dream book. But their interpersonal relationships are rarely the focus and their adventures are mostly fighting various larger than life costumed criminals. It was a fun book, sure, but even in itself that's a break from OG Cass's deliberately somber tone.

So I guess if there was one thing I'd like to see from modern Cass, apart from some sort of retcon restoring the OG David Cain with his difficult and layered relationship to Cass, it would be a return of the archetypical Cass story, because these are the stories that best highlight Cass's best qualities - her empathy, her compassion, her inner conflicts.

#cassandra cain #batgirl #sception reads cassandra cain

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theelvenhaven · 10 months

Text

Muse

Caranthir x Reader

k words

Request: Ohh I've been in bit of a Caranthir kick recently, thanks to you 👀 So for request... Thinking about artist reader and their muse Caranthir. Be it sculpting or painting they're always eager to pester him a little to be their model and praise him along the way. Or perhaps a quiet moment in the evening and he catches them doodling him in their sketchbook? 🥰

A/N: I totally understand the Caranthir kick, I get that way too lol. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

It was hard not to be captivated by your partner and all the things that made him… well him. What wasn’t there to love about Carnistir?

He had a tender heart but kept it guarded though those walls had slowly come down under your careful cultivation and love that you gave him. He was strong emotionally, and his temper while fierce wasn’t as easily triggered as most people suggested it would be. Carnistir used an amazing amount of restraint to keep from being so irrationally angry and with you he was always the epitome of gentle and caring.

Not to mention the great intelligence and skill Carnistir had. He was a wonderful conversationalist despite his reserved nature, and always were conversations full of variety and interesting topics. All that he seemed to have knowledge on somehow or another. Not to mention how excelled in banking and finance and even in diplomacy. You supposed having six other brothers would make you quite the diplomat when they were out to annoy and set your temper off.

But not only was a fine politician, but when he had shared with you his artistic abilities you were impressed with his gifts. It was hard not to be when you first laid eyes on a heavily embroidered piece of fabric that he was going to use to make himself a new tunic. Nor did it fail to impress you when you were gifted with a heavily beaded and embroidered article of clothing as well. Proudly did you wear it, and still wore it.

Carnistir inspired you to create, as an artist how could you not be inspired by him?

If anything you found yourself to consider Carnistir your muse. At first in the fact that he always seemed to give you great ideas on what you could sketch or paint next, painting some of the finest works of art he had ever laid eyes on.

But the more time you spent with Carnistir, the more you wanted to draw him and his beauty.

Carnistir was the most handsome ner you had ever laid eyes on. His dark hair complimenting his reddened complexion and freckled body, with bright silver eyes that stood out and pierced right into you. His lips full and perfectly kissable- you would know- and his jawline was strong, nose hooked.

He was beautiful to you.

But despite all of your praise on his beauty and how much you adored him, you knew Carnistir wouldn’t let you sketch or draw him. That he’d be too self conscious for you to do such a thing, so you took to doing it in secret.

Finding places to perch with your sketchbook out of his sight, sketching his strong Feanorian features, and spending copious amounts of time to make sure it looked just like him and was perfect. At first not all of it was identical to him, it took some time to fine tune everything and get it just right. Especially working with a moving figure and basing it off memory.

But eventually you managed to nail down how to draw him and that intensely handsome face of his, always keeping a red colored pencil on you to shade in his reddened face to tie it all together. You adored all of his expressions, no matter how dead panned or softly expressive they were, you took to drawing all of it.

It even got to the point where you could sketch him being in the same room with him, while Carnistir stitched and embroidered something. He was too busy to notice that you were sketching him, hyper focused on his own work never minding that you two were creating with him. It made him feel good to know that you wanted to spend your time creating with him too.

Tonight was no different, as you sat on the sofa, your back leaning against the armrest and with Carnistir at the other end of the sofa. The two of you sitting in a comfortable silence as he continued to stitch, the sounds of the hearth popping in the background, paired with the scratching sounds of your pencil lead against the paper.

Having been so used to drawing him, you didn’t need to look up to see what his face looked like. Drawing it all from memory, you were completely lost in your own little world as you continued to sketch him, taking your time. Adding details and shading, completely absorbed in you work, so much so you didn’t notice Carnistir getting up off the sofa to walk around for something.

You only continued the task at hand, while Carnistir walked over to his desk that was just behind you. Reaching for a pair of embroidery scissors to snip at the loose thread to at least shorten it, he was going to turn around and come sit back down with them. But as he began to approach he paused to see what it was you were sketching.

Quietly he looked over the ner that was on your sketchbook, not thinking much of it at first. Curious to know who it was that had caught your attention recently that you would draw them, there was no flame of jealousy as he understood how inspiration worked. Especially seeing his mother hard at work in the past and all the nerri and nissi she sculpted that wasn’t his father.

He approached and looked harder, and felt a ripple of surprise run through him as he realized that the ner on the page in your sketchbook was him! You were drawing him? Why? He was the furthest thing from attractive- in his mind- and yet here you were putting him down on paper. Skillfully too without even having to look at him.

He felt the heat of a blush begin to rise on his face, reddening his face further. It was hard to argue that it was him when you switched to your red color pencil and began to lightly redden his face, and darken the freckles on the sketch of him. Carnistir was a mixture of embarrassed but he was also flattered… Disbelieving that you’d find him so attractive that you’d want to sketch him.

Carnistir had always concluded that you weren’t with him for his good looks, as he felt he really didn’t have them with the rubicund face he had.

“Is… that me?” He rhetorically asked, but it was more of a shock even if he already knew the answer, it made you freeze in your sketching. Slowly he watched you move to sit up and turn around to face him, and you noticed how deep his blush was and how he seemed frozen unsure of what he was supposed to do now that he had caught you.

For a moment you were quiet as you set the sketchbook in your lap, looking down at the drawing on the page of a very intensely focused Carnistir. But you began to smile, you supposed you had been doing this in secret long enough.

“It is.” You answered him simply and with a smile directed towards him, and you could see the visible shock that was on his face. This was an expression you hadn’t ever seen so clear on his face, maybe in his eyes and not like a mask that took over his whole face.

“Why?” He asked trying not to sound so uncertain, preparing himself for any criticism or shortcomings you might come up with. Carnistir loved you and you him, but he couldn’t see what you found attractive to be able to draw him.

“Because I find you handsome.” You answered and you could swear his face grew even redder, rivaling his deep burgundy tunic. Carnistir stood there stiffly, his arms at his sides with his embroidery hoop and scissors still in his hand and those intense silver eyes left yours looking everywhere but at you.

His low self-esteem beginning to shine through, you had always suspected he didn’t think highly of himself, but now it was really showing. He hesitated on what to say for a moment, whether he should argue or let you have it. You’d be the only one in the world- aside from his mother- who thought him handsome.

“That can’t possibly be true.” Carnistir said to you with a surprising amount of firmness as he finally moved to take his place on the sofa. Scooting as far down it as the furniture would allow, putting a huge gap between the two of you as he went right back to his work. Trying to forget he ever heard you say such a thing. He didn’t think you were mocking him… right? You were above that right?

But fear settled in and he wondered if you were, you were too good to be true for him in his mind. He was lucky that you wanted to be with him… He let his thoughts run rampant with “what ifs” as he sat in silence, snipping away at thread that was too long.

“It is true, Carnistir.” You said to him warmly and you watched the way he tensed up hearing it from you, how could you possibly think that? Had you seen his face? His nose was too big, his face was too red, the scowl he wore was too intense… The only thing he liked was his freckles, because they were his mothers. He truly didn’t understand what you saw in him, save maybe his personality. That he was semi-confident was decent.

“I don’t see how.” He whispered out unintentionally, meaning for it to sound a lot more confident than it did, you looked at him sympathetically. You thought for a moment before you began to scoot down the sofa to sit next to him,

“Mmm I see how though.” You said holding out your sketchbook to take, this time it was flipped to a different part of it. Another page that had many little sketches of his face and facial expressions. Carnistir swallowed thickly as he looked at it from the corner of his eyes, Hesitating to put his hoop down before finally he did.

Taking the sketchbook from you as you encouraged him too, and slowly he looked over each little sketch. He winced, did he really make all these faces?

“There’s more.” You said softly as you reached over to flip to another page, and this time it was a full body sketch of him, dressed in an outfit from a festivity that you two had gone to together. When did you have time to do this one? He wondered to himself.

He let you flip the pages and with each picture, no matter how well you captured his likeness… Seeing his face over and over made him cringe. He hardly looked at himself in the mirror because he didn’t like what he saw, yet here you drew him freely and openly… repeatedly.

“Y/N… Why? Why are you drawing me? Why are you showing me these?” Carnistir asked this time with a firmness, though the confusion was sound in his voice as he knitted his brows together in a deeper scowl than he supposed he wore all the time. There was always a scowl to his face and it didn’t stop you from drawing it.

“Because I find you to be beautiful Carnistir, if I may dare say… I think you are my muse.” Him!? Your muse!?

“There is nothing beautiful about me, you’d be better off drawing someone like Tyelko or Curvo.” He argued back immediately, one named the Fair and the other for his likeness to their father who was no doubt attractive. Many nissi and nerri certainly chased after the two- their father included though he rejected them all seeing as he loved Nerdanel.

“Who says there isn’t? Carnistir, you are so beautiful.” You said eagerly as you scooted close enough that your knees were touching, though despite himself… Carnistir relaxed at the feel of you touching him. He sighed out in frustration, because he wholeheartedly disagreed. There was nothing beautiful about him, he didn’t want to insult you… But had you seen him?

“Y/N. There is nothing about me that is attractive. My nose is too big, my face too red, my lips are full but they’re a little crooked, and my jaw is too strong. Not to mention I wear a scowl mostly, and that is wholly unbecoming of me.” He argued with you giving you full insight to all of his insecurities. You were quick to shake your head as you turned to face him, your hand coming to cup his face to try and get him to look at you, but he hesitated.

“Carnistir, there is nothing wrong with your nose it suits you, your face is red yes but it doesn’t detract from your beauty. Your lips are perfect and kissable, and your jaw is perfect for your face. Carnistir you are unbelievably handsome.” You smiled out to him as you spoke tenderly, your thumb lovingly caressing his face. For a moment there was a silence and you could see those pools of silver looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not the only one who thinks those things of you, I have overheard many jealous nerri and nissi compliment your beauty Carnistir. Whomever has told you otherwise… They are cruel and unfair.” You said to him gently, as he slowly began to turn to look at you. His eyes were still cast down and his face was still the color of his tunic, but you smiled again.

“I love you and every part of you. Your personality isn’t the only thing that wowed me, melda.” You said to him gently and you felt him relax under your touch and sweet words, if there was anything Carnistir knew about you, was that you weren’t one to be untruthful. Especially with him, you were always honest and gave a thoughtful opinion on things.

He hesitated for a moment, shifting some uncomfortably.

“I.. love you too, Y/N… But I am… shocked you see such things in my appearance.” He said softly to you, and finally his hands came to interact with you. Coming to wind around your waist and pulling you in close. You grinned before you leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Of course I do, and you can expect to see far more pictures of yourself too. I love drawing you.” You grinned to him, and you could feel his face heat back up again. Carnistir sighed out at your words.

“I… don’t have to pose or anything do I?” He asked with a small grumble, making you laugh at his words. You shrugged,

“Only sometimes.” You winked as he looked at you, and gently he scowled making you laugh again.

“Fine… I suppose I can.” He conceded and you were thrilled with the news!

“You won’t regret it, melda.” You said with a big grin pulling at your lips before you pressed another kiss to his cheek. Making the corners of his lips tug up into a gentle smile.

“Now show me your work, we’ve seen enough of mine.” You said hoping to take his mind off the conversation you had and onto something that relaxed him. You were thrilled he would be your muse, but you didn’t want to push him too far where he stayed uncomfortable.

You loved Carnistir and couldn’t wait to show his beauty off to the world, but you’d start with baby steps.

* * *

Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @celebrimbor-telperinquar @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @anunexpectedsideblog @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @noldorinpainter

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idyllicwillowtree · 1 year

Text

A Good Pair (of Skates)

Genre: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, afab!reader, rollerskater!reader, y/n

Summary: Steve’s in love with his childhood best friend and he does everything he can to keep his feelings a secret from you. A roller skating injury might change that.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: swearing, friends to lovers, injury, broken bones, mutual pining, road rage, he want you to have his babies, hurt x comfort, use of y/n

Author’s note: My first fic! I broke both my arms while roller skating (but I was by myself) so this is loosely based on true events!

part 2 | main masterlist

Part 1:

“Hey! Settle it down, you’re gonna scare away all my customers,” Steve ordered in his signature “dad tone” as he whipped open the glass door at Family Video.

Mike and Will were seated at the dark green bench outside the store while Dustin was standing and waving his arms frantically. They were all arguing about different Dungeons and Dragons strategies, a game Steve will never understand. It’s not like he hasn’t tried playing before but he just couldn’t get into it, much to Dustin’s disappointment.

“I don’t think you want us to leave, Steve,” Will commented, sharing a knowing smile with Mike and Dustin.

“Oh yeah, Byers? And why not?” Robin said, popping out from behind Steve. The working duo didn’t really want them to leave, though. They were in desperate need of a distraction so they could survive the last hour of their shift.

Dustin raised a brow, “because our ride happens to be your favorite customer, Steve.”

Steve finally took the time to look up at the mostly vacant parking lot, surprisingly quiet on this nice summer evening. A beautiful golden color lit up the end of the day as the sun was getting ready to set. The sharp ka-thumps of a basketball caught his attention next. Lucas was patiently teaching El how to dribble and pass the ball a few yards away from them. She was taking it very seriously, eyebrows pinched in concentration as she listened to her friend.

“Yeah, well as much as I like those two, I don’t think-” Steve abruptly cut himself off, realizing they don’t have a car, they can’t even drive yet, duh. His eyes slowly widened as he heard his favorite sound in the world.

Your laughter filled the air as you zoomed past the group at an alarming speed, Max gliding quickly behind you.

“Hey! You’re cheating,” the redhead exclaimed with a laugh.

“There’s no rules in drag racing, Mayfield” you teased.

“There’s no rollerskating in drag racing either,” she quipped back.

Steve realized Max was on her skateboard and you were wearing your famous roller skates, the tan and worn out boots you’ve had ever since your feet stopped growing. He once offered to get you new ones for your birthday, fearing for the safety of your ankles, but you had declined. It’s not like you couldn’t afford new skates, he just thought you deserved something new and nice. But you liked what you were familiar with.

We’ve been together for so long! If I were to get new ones it would almost feel like cheating! You laughed, trying to be serious, but even you knew how silly that sounded.

Fine, just don’t come crawling to me when your ankles snap in half!

Okay fine, I guess I won't! You playfully shoved at his chest.

Wait, wait, you can come to me. I'll just have to give you a lot of shit for it though.

Deal.

Stubbornness was an ugly trait in most people but you managed to make it beautiful. You did that with the majority of the things in Steve’s life. No matter how horrible his day is, one look from you and all the ugliness of the world would simply melt away. Every look, every shoulder graze, every embrace, he’d treasure it. He treasured you.

Steve was brought back to reality by an uncomfortable intrusion in his ear.

“Damn it, Robin!” He swiped at the pencil she was trying to stick there, “I told you to quit doing that.”

“But you make it so easy,” she teased, basking in the validation of the other kids’ snickering.

Robin started messing with Steve when she realized he would fall into a bit of a trance when he was busy admiring you. Placing small pieces of trash in his hair, sticking candy up his nose, things like that. It made his blood boil, mostly because it was frustrating to be stuck in a hypnotic-state of love without actually being with the person he’s in love with, and all his friends were there to witness it. This was made worse by their incessant teasing. He hated himself for being so obvious, that meant it was only a matter of time before you figured it out and would hate him for it. Steve figured you’d want nothing to do with him if he tried to change the dynamic that you already had, but it was getting increasingly difficult to mask his affection for you.

“Hey guys,” you said breathlessly as you rolled over to the group. He did the quickest glance to your heaving chest, hoping his eyes were fast enough for no one to notice. “Hi, Steve,” she added, causing Steve to send you a dopey smile.

“Hey, Y/N, what are you guys up to today?” Steve said, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady and casual.

“Oh you know, just lugging the crew around,” you gestured towards your trusty yellow ‘67 Volkswagen Kleinbus. Giant enough to fit all your friends. How’d he manage to miss that? Every time he hears the gentle purr of your car’s motor he’d come running, but the walkman he was listening to earlier must’ve drowned it out. “Thought we’d pay you guys a visit and maybe pick up a movie.”

“That’s good ‘cause we’ve got plenty of those,” Steve awkwardly jokes. He missed the door frame as he moved to lean on it but he’s hoping he saved it well enough for you not to notice.

It took only a second before a loud laugh bubbled up from your throat, causing you to let out more of a snort than the dainty giggle you were going for. Everyone else stayed quiet, not appreciating the joke as much as you did. Mike looked downright disgusted by Steve’s attempt at humor, but that didn’t matter as long as he got a chance to hear you laugh.

“You guys should come over after work and watch with us,” you said excitedly. “My parents are gone for the weekend so we get the whole place to ourselves.”

“We would just LOVE that, wouldn’t we Steve?” Robin gripped his shoulder and shook it with more force than was necessary.

“Y-yeah that sounds like a great idea, we’re definitely in.”

“Great,” you beamed at him. You pulled out a couple of bucks out of your jean short pockets and handed them to Will, “Will makes the final call on the movie decision, no exceptions.” Dustin and Mike groaned in response. “Don’t give me that! Unless you two can finally agree on something then you can choose, but Will’s the only one who actually thinks about what the group would want. They don’t call him Will the Wise for nothing.” The boy’s ears and cheeks turned a bold shade of pink, embarrassed by the positive attention he was getting from someone he looked up to so much.

“Will calls himself that,” Dustin grumbled.

“No talking back Dustin,” Steve added cheekily.

You sent Steve a goofy smile as Dustin harrumphed in protest.

Max got impatient by the lack of attention you had on her. Instead of using her words she hooked her fingers into your back belt loop and started wheeling you away. “Make sure they stay in line, Harrington,” you said, ignoring the redhead as you continued being pulled backwards.

“I’m on it, Y/L/N,” he saluted. You giggled and turned around to playfully scold Max about her manners.

You and Steve had always had this good-natured mom and dad role in the group. The younger of the kids appropriately nicknamed your bus the “mom-mobile” as you’ve taken it upon yourself to carpool them around the entire town whenever they asked. When Steve had work, you were the driver but Steve made sure he was the one behind the wheel whenever he was around. It’s not like you were a bad driver, he just wanted you to relax and focus on picking the music.

He would imagine being an actual dad with you by his side whenever he was in the driver's seat. Steve couldn’t help but fantasize about how you’d be as a real mom. So supportive and sweet, but strict and protective when you needed to be. You took your role as group mom very seriously. Going as far as to remember and plan everyone’s birthdays, making sure everyone ate food and drank water, and you would even volunteer to make extravagant Halloween costumes for them. Steve would chastise you for spoiling them too much but you’d just shake your head at him and smile. It was just as nice for you to spread the love as it was to be on the receiving end of it.

You and Steve grew up near each other and have been friends since he saw you skating around in circles on his street. It was a warm spring day when he saw you out his window. You stumbled every so often but never managed to fully fall. His parents weren’t home and he decided to just start biking alongside you. When you spotted him you lit up and shyly asked him his name.

‘I’m Steve, do you want to be friends? I have a pool!’

Relationships were so much simpler back then.

Your parents, much like Steve’s, were never really around. You both bonded over your lack of parental supervision. Birthdays and holidays were always spent making sure the other one wasn’t alone. Even when Steve started to become more focused on popularity, he always made sure to find time to make you feel loved and special. Steve felt so lucky that they were both welcomed into their new group of friends together. This ‘found family’ would not be the same to him if you weren’t a part of it.

You were always one step ahead of Steve, anticipating everyone’s emotional needs before he could. He knew for certain that he wanted someone like you for his future children. Steve convinced himself that there had to be other women out there who were just as equally thoughtful and patient as you, but deep down he knew no one could compare. The longing he felt for you was resting heavily on his heart, but he had to resist so he didn’t ruin your friendship. It was 10 years in the making, all you had were each other. He couldn’t risk losing the one thing that anchored him just because he was having romantic feelings.

He stood there in the Family Video doorway for a few more minutes, watching as you gracefully circle Max, making it look like you were walking forward while actually moving backwards. He admired the way the golden sun spread across your body and the way it magically transforms your eyes into a whole different color.

Steve used to be nervous about your lack of safety gear when you would go out skating but once he saw you in action after you practiced more he loosened up a bit. The skates were like an extension of you, anyone who watched you would see that. Your passion shining through as you glided around the parking lot, occasionally flowing into a beautiful spin. Those were Steve’s favorites to watch, your hair would splay out with the movement, the colors of your outfit blending together, and your arms pumping you around and eventually being placed in a delicate pose as your momentum picked up.

You’d make it look so easy and smooth that even Steve believed he could emulate the grace you possessed on wheels. He has tried before, much to your delight, but it was definitely harder than it looked considering he ended up with two bloody elbows and a fat lip. At least you were there to patch him up afterwards. Hating the sting of the alcohol wipes but enjoying the excuse to be close to you and to have your delicate fingers on his skin.

Robin managed to get a Red Vine part way up his nose without him noticing before he dramatically smacked it away. He spun towards her ready to give her a piece of his mind when suddenly your terrified voice broke through the peaceful evening.

“MAX! LOOK OUT!”

Steve turned just in time to see you yank the young girl backwards by the back of her bright blue t-shirt. You successfully pulled her away from a pick up truck that was going way too fast in the parking lot. You weren’t able to save Max’s skateboard as the car drove right over it, splintering it to pieces. You both landed on your backs, Max not hitting the ground as hard as you did since you were still on wheels. The man driving continued on at the same speed and even had the audacity to stick his hand out the window to flip the girls off.

El’s instincts took over and she stopped the truck with her powers, causing steam to smoke through the front of the vehicle. The man stepped out in a rage.

“What the FUCK?!” he bellowed in anger, confused by the sudden damage to his precious car.

“Robin, call Hopper!” Steve called out before sprinting towards you two. He needed to make sure everyone was protected from this angry man so he could focus on making sure you and Max were okay, he could trust Hopper to do just that.

He ran as fast as he could, Lucas trailing closely behind him, basketball forgotten. Max sat up slowly and looked at you with worry in her eyes, you were still laying in the same spot on the ground, frozen.

“Shit! Are you guys okay?” Steve panted as he came to stop in front of you. Lucas was already helping the redhead up and gently brushing the dirt from her clothes. “Y/N?” Steve questioned gently. Your eyes were open, at least you were conscious. It looked like you were processing what had just happened, “Hey doll, are you hurt?”

The nickname made your eyes snap to his brown ones, with a shaky voice you said, “oh, uhh, hi Steve…I don’t think so…”

That wasn’t very convincing.

“I’m gonna sit you up now, okay?” Steve communicated clearly.

You nodded slowly at him, giving silent permission for him to help you. He reached behind your upper back and gripped your hand gently.

“Shit,” you hissed as he pulled you to sit.

“Shit - sorry - shit! What hurts, doll? I’m so sorry,” Steve said, chastising himself for not being more careful.

“It’s okay, Steve. I think I just landed on my arms wrong.”

His eyes scanned your arms, he stopped himself from touching you in case he caused you more pain. Your limbs were at their normal shapes, no bones sticking out at unnatural angles or anything obvious like that. But the way you sat there with your arms still, making sure you didn’t jostle yourself, indicated to Steve that you weren’t okay. He had participated in enough sports over the years to recognize the panicked look of someone who had just broken a bone. Steve’s big hands were hovering around your upper body, unsure of what to do. You missed the warmth they transferred to you when he helped you sit up.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Max told you quietly, kneeling down to your level.

You plastered a big smile to your face and in an overly patronizing tone you said, “oh little Miss Max, you’re so silly. Of course I had to.”

She rolls her eyes with a soft smile, appreciative of your selfless act but still nervous about your condition. You tried to reach out to her but your arms weren’t responding, this caused your smile to drop and Steve’s anxiety to spike.

Robin was dealing with the irresponsible driver after getting off the phone with Hopper, who was thankfully on his way. The man was convinced that you and Max had something to do with his car breaking down and was yelling at Robin about it. Mike and El stood behind her as back up in case she needed it before police could arrive.

“Shitshitshitshitshit...” The familiar sound of Dustin’s repetitive cursing became louder and louder as he got closer with Will by his side.

“Are you guys okay?” Will said, brows pinched in concern.

Max responded, “I’m fine, but Y/N isn’t.”

“SHIT,” screeched Dustin, causing Steve to flinch slightly. He swiped a hand over his face in frustration.

“I’m fine guys, seriously. I just…I just can’t really move my arms, no big deal,” you mumbled the last part, still trying to diffuse everyone’s worry.

“Alright that’s it, we're going to the hospital,” Steve said sternly, making the call to get you professional help. He began untying the frayed laces of your skates and sliding them off your feet. Will silently went to retrieve your Reebok sneakers that you had stashed in your Volkswagen.

“What?! No Steve, I don’t think that’s necessary.” Steve was already lifting you to a standing position by your hips, not wasting any more time. “You’re hurt and we have to get you help.”

“I’m fine, Steve, I just need to sleep it off and I’ll be good as n-new,” you said as you tried your hardest to straighten your right elbow, your left wrist not doing any better. There was blood and dirt into your palms, evidence of where you landed. As a skater you know that you’re not supposed to stick your arms out when you fall but your instinct to protect Max took over.

You were actually convinced it wasn’t that big a deal. Adrenaline was still coursing through you so you weren’t able to fully feel how messed up your bones felt. You assumed it was at most just a sprain that you could easily nurse on your own at home. You barely ever get hurt, this is a whole new experience for you. Even when the group was out fighting monsters and Russians, you had managed to make it out mostly unscathed every single time, much to Steve’s relief.

Steve’s grip stayed planted on your hips. If anyone said anything he’d claim it was just to make sure you didn’t tip over, and that might be the case but in reality it was mostly to keep you close to him. “Sweetheart, your arms could be broken. We have to go,” he stated gently.

“I don’t-...broken?” You had a rebuttal already queued up in your mind before processing what Steve had said. Once he mentioned the “b-word” your nerves started seeping in to replace the adrenaline in your veins and it became more real. Will handed your shoes to Steve and he bent down to slip them on your feet, carefully making sure you didn’t fall in the process. You tried placing your left hand on his shoulder to steady yourself but instead you winced at the dull ache in your wrist.

Steve stood at his full height and was prepared to counter your arguments so he could get your stubborn self to the hospital, “we need-.”

“Okay,” you surrendered softly, glancing up at his eyes before looking down at your shoes. They were equally as worn out as your skates.

Steve allowed himself to be surprised for only a second before jumping into action. He plucked the “mom-mobile” keys out of your pocket by the colorful braided lanyard that was sticking out of your jeans and started escorting you towards his BMW, hands back on your waist.

“Give these to Robin, she’ll drive you guys home” he said tossing your keys to Lucas. That was the first time since you fell that he took his gaze off of you.

He wished he hadn’t.

Steve witnessed how upsetting this was for the group of young teens which made his heart hurt even more.

Dustin wore his heart out on his sleeve so he was openly letting the tears flow down his cheeks into his quivering chin, while Max was trying her hardest to keep the tears from escaping as she watched you carefully. Lucas looked at how gentle yet strong Steve was being towards you and tried to mirror that with Max. Poor Will looked like he was going to yak all over himself. Sure, they all have the shared trauma of fighting actual monsters, but this was so normal that it almost scared them more. Almost. Seeing a man who is just a man, not some sort of evil supernatural creature or mad scientist, do something so inhumane was very alarming.

Now wasn’t the time to comfort the young teens, as much as Steve might want to, but his focus had to be on you. He knew they could handle themselves, they’ve proven it time and time again.

Steve was leading you towards his BMW but unfortunately, you two had to walk past the man from the truck in order to get there. Luckily, Robin had been defending you and giving the driver a piece of her mind. Robin’s tactic was to just keep talking at the man, leaving him angry and confused, not able to get a word in. Steve trusted that Robin could handle it until Hopper arrived.

“Robin, you’re gonna have to close up. I’m taking Y/N to the hospital.”

El gasped but you sent her a reassuring smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes, but it was enough to let her know you’ll be fine.

Steve made eye-contact with the driver, sending him the most intimidating look he could muster. He couldn’t stop the rage from building inside his chest as he looked at the poor excuse for a man. He wore grimy overalls that strained against the pressure of his beer-belly. There was a sweat stained t-shirt underneath the denim that Steve assumed used to be white. His patchy beard, that was filled with crumbs, barely hid his excitement at seeing you hurt.

“That’s what happens when dumb broads like you mess with my truck,” he commented gravelly, still convinced that you and Max were at fault for breaking his clunky vehicle.

Steve felt you tense beside him and before Steve could launch himself at the man, he heard sirens in the distance and decided to let Hopper handle it. His focus needed to be on getting you medical help.

Steve continued with you towards his car and opened the passenger door, gently helping you settle in the familiar spot. The smell of leather and stale coffee would usually envelop you in comfort, sending you into a calm and relaxed state. Being in this spot meant you were with your best friend, but for now all you could focus on was the pain continuing to blossom throughout your arms

Before closing the door Steve knelt down on the ground next to you, trying to catch your eye. They were dancing across the dashboard, not really focusing on it. He could see all the bad thoughts swarming through your head by the look in your eyes alone.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t do that. Everything’s going to be okay, I’m right here.” Steve placed a warm hand on your knee and it grounded you immediately. Your wide eyes moved to look over at him. You sniffed before nodding, not trusting your voice at the moment.

Without thinking, Steve used his unoccupied hand to hold your cheek softly and planted a tender kiss on your forehead, hoping to scare away the demons swimming around in your mind.

His heart plummeted when he realized what he was doing. It might have been a little too intimate to just kiss you like that without even asking first and he was nervous that he broke some sort of boundary with you. Steve anticipated a headbutt for crossing that line as he slowly pulled away, he would’ve expected a slap if your arms had been working.

But what Steve did not expect was for you to let out the gentle breath you had been holding and for the tension in your shoulders to dissolve.He looked into your eyes and saw nothing but relief.

“Thanks, Stevie.” You smiled sweetly at him.

“No problem, sugar,” he breathed out, overwhelmed by the love blossoming in his chest. Steve couldn’t help but blush violently when you called him ‘Stevie’. He still had your cheek in his hand so he began to stroke it softly with his thumb. He didn’t miss the way your gaze stayed on him. He watched you back and noticed a new freckle on the bridge of your nose that caused the butterflies in his stomach to flap even more aggressively.

Suddenly, remembering the task at hand, he cleared his throat and helped you with your seatbelt. He closed the passenger door and ran around to the driver’s side. Wasting no time in pulling out of his parking spot and driving towards the town’s emergency room, carefully avoiding Hopper’s cop car on the way out.

part 2 | main masterlist

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keganexe · 1 year

Text

Okay I’ve learned a cool trick well enough to share it now

So I’ve been trying to do a lot of like physical manipulation to make cool digital effects for ttrpgs so I wanna show folks how to go from like this

to this

Using a combo of physical and digital manipulation. You’ll need a printer, a scanner, and something to cut with; and then I used the Affinity Suite for digital (especially photo), but you can probably do some similar shit with Adobe

The big things in here are “fucking up text with the scanner” and “creating threshold maps for texture and to hide issues”

so here we go

Okay so you’re gonna need a scanner I’m so sorry, but just print out whatever text (or images! It works on images too!) you can as big as your scanner bed will allow. You can go smaller, but you’ll lose a lot of sick texture on the way, and we don’t wanna do that tbh

The short version of this tutorial is “now drag it funny as the scanner goes down the page” but I’m gonna explain longer how that works practically haha

So print it out, cut off the white space on the left and right of the text to make it easier to work with (and I did under as well, but that’s less important). On the back of the paper with a pencil, mark the lines where you want the text to drag. For me that was above the midline on the E, but below the bottom of the top line

Like roughly here?

Set your scanner at a decent DPI, but beware the higher the DPI the harder this gets to do, because the super slow moving scanner light thing really highlights any amount of shaky. For my scanner the sweetspot is like 400 for good texture, but you’re gonna fuck up a lot doing it tbh so trial and error.

As the scanner comes though, keep the light between those lines, and drag it and wiggle it around! Just try to keep a consistent speed and have fun. After a number of scans you’ll pull something like this, there is a weird grey bit I don’t love and it’s gonna fuck us up just a little, but I’m gonna go over how I dealt with it as well~

Pull it into Affinity! If you have Publisher open it here, even if we are planning to work in Photo mostly, because the Persona manager is a life-saver when you’re doing cross program work.

So I first cut out the text, you don’t need to be super exact, but you only want the white paper, and the black text, not the grey of the scanner bed.

I usually then slap this text into a new document, because cropping is for idiots

then lets hop over to the Photo Persona~

Duplicate the layer that is just the text, lock it, and hide the bottom layer because we’re gonna start destroying shit and we want old copies that aren’t fucked up. With your fresh layer, hop into Adjustments>Threshold at the bottom of the Layers Menu, and drag around the preset until the text looks how you like. This gets us cool texture, but also hides that weird grey blob on the page from where I squeeze the paper during the scan and fucked it up some. For me that’s around here, but obv ymmv

After doing this right click and rasterize your later

Now at the top of Affinity go into Filters > Colors > Erase White Paper

Where this leaves you might be perfect on it’s own! For me there are some areas I don’t love, so now we’re gonna texturize the whole thing. I circled the areas that I don’t love, but the tldr is I need to hide my sins where I had fucked up the scan some, and as a result have no texture

So if we zoom in on the gain some it is strongly vertical instead of just square

If your grain is a different shape you’ll wanna find different stock for this, but this looks a lot like denim to me? So I’m going into the Stock screen (View>Studios>Stock will bring it up if you don’t have it enabled already, but it just goes to Pexels and Pixabay to grab images for you is the tldr) and grabbing a high quality scan of some denim. You’ll wanna resize it so the fabric texture is around the same size as what’s here already. This might mean making it smaller than the whole page and that’s fine, for me I just duplicated it till I had enough to cover the whole image, but the tldr here is “cover the whole page in denim or concrete or whatever texture you’re using”

If you used multiple images group them, rasterize the entire group, tldr make it one big image. Afterwards hop back into the Threshold page, and try to replicate the grain pattern! You’re gonna slap it over the whole image so don’t worry about getting it perfect. You want the image to be mostly white, with black as a the textured bits, BUT if you can only get it to mostly black with good white texture? Totally fine, you’ll just want to inverse the image at the end (I personally find this way easier, but like ymmv)

anyway for me we ended up here

Because it’s mostly black we are gonna want to Adjustments>Invert on this. Same as before now we want to rasterize the image, and go to Filter>Colors>Erase White Paper. Set the blending mode to Erase

This whole thing requires a lot of patience, and a lot of trial and error, but eventually you’ll land on something like this

We aren’t going for a ton of texture, just enough hide some of our mistakes along the way

Group the whole thing, duplicate it, lock and hide the original again

Now on one group go ahead and rasterize it again, slap some color under it (or idk a book cover? That’s what this is for) and you’re good to go!

Anyway hope this is helpful, I do a lot of threshold maps on stock photos to get cool texture so I can zoom through this pretty quick, but like it takes some time and effort!

#uhhhh I need a skill share tag so im gonna make it #skillshare #yeah that'll do it #its nice not being on twitter because I can just do something like this without making a thread of it now

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