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currently-reading-a-book · 2 months

Text

Faux Love, Real Hearts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer must pose as a couple for a mission. However, one question remains: why does he keep calling you 'love'?

Genre: smut

Warning: talking about a criminal case, making out, fake dating (let me know if I forgot something)

Word Count: 882 words

A/N: As always, any criticism is very welcome. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. English is not my first language.

Anyway, enjoy :)

✧ 🎀 -------------------------------------------------------------- 🎀 ✧

You blushed yesterday, you blushed today and you most definitely will blush tomorrow. You simply will never get used to his soft voice whispering: “Sorry, love.”

As he calmly brushes past you. You will never get used to his rough hands brushing against your skin from time to time. You will never get used to his soft backrubs or his light kisses against your forehead. Perhaps it’s better this way. If you’re used to his permanent presence your heart would break into two when this mission ends. When all of this ends. Every day you’re hoping that the mission is continued another day, just to be with him. And for a certain time, it did work; until it didn’t anymore.

For more than a year, you have been working in the Behavioral Unit (BAU) department of the FBI. As an aspiring Agent, you are willing to do anything to save people. The team welcomed you warmly, always helping you where they could since you were the youngest member. You feel safe because you know they will always have your back. Yet nothing could have prepared you for your latest mission. The mission where you and Spencer had to fake a romantic relationship. Spencer was a good boyfriend; a fake one sadly.

This unsub is targeting young couples, so the team decided you and Spencer would be the best ones to fit his victimology. Quickly you move into a fake house that isn’t yours; drive a fake car and act like a fake couple deeply in love with each other.

“Are you ready to go to bed, darling?”, shouted Spencer down from your shared bedroom.

It was a comfortable room with a carpeted floor and a large king-size bed. Oh, how you loved this bed; nevertheless, nothing compares to sleeping beside Spencer. Your sleep quality improving enormously. Maybe Spencer has to do with it...

Without answering you went up, already in your pyjamas ready to get a good night’s sleep in. Today you search through lots of recordings in hopes of finding a lead in the case; Spencer of course helping you, but how could anybody read faster than Reid himself? You collapse onto the bed, feeling utterly exhausted. The slender nerdy boy, with his thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, is deeply engrossed in his book. Every now and then, he looks up from his reading, his bright eyes shining with a gentle smile that warms your heart.

“You must be absolutely tired, love.”

“God, yeah,” you laugh awkwardly. A strange silence surrounded them.

“Come here,” he opened his arms gesturing her to come closer.

She found herself in a state of confusion, uncertain of what to do next. As she lay there, she couldn't help but feel drawn towards Reid's comforting presence. She knew that cuddling with him would be unprofessional, but his warm embrace felt like a safe haven that she longed to be in. The conflicting thoughts in her mind left her feeling torn and indecisive, so she stayed where she was.

Since she didn’t come closer, he decided to drew closer to her. His hot breath tickled her neck as he whispered against her ears sending shivers down her spine: "You know we have to act like a real couple, you want to catch this unsub, don’t you?”

She gulped silently. Of course, she wanted to catch this motherfucker who’s been killing around D.C., however, all she could think right now was how close Spencer was and how his hot breath felt amazing against her neck.

“Spencer…,” was the only thing she could whisper back.

His hands grip her waist lovingly, bringing her closer to him.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he murmured against her hair, kissing the top of her head softly.

Another gulp. Feeling hot all over her body, you tried to think a straight thought, but how can you think rationally when a hot FBI agent's body is nearly pressed against yours? Particularly Spencers hot body.

“Kiss me, Spencer.”

Without a second of hesitation, he crashed his lips against yours. Like a starved man, his kiss was impatient and rough, in contrast to the delicate touch of his hands all over your body. You could feel his warm big hands exploring every inch of your body. Oh, how good it felt.

“Fuck, I wanted to do this since day one,” he cursed against your lips before softly biting them. His tongue teased your lips, wanting to enter your mouth. Gently you open your lips and your and his tongue dance together. His soft lips moved their way down to your jaw, then your neck where they stayed for a bit, nibbling at your flesh. You reached for his curls, gripping them which he responded with a moan.

“If I had to act like this stupid fake couple thing again I would absolutely, do it, just to taste your sweet lips, love.” He smiled against your neck.

“Wait,” you pushed him a bit away from you, “you don’t enjoy this fake dating?”

He took a deep breath. Panic started washing over you. Of course, he wouldn't like your back, what do you think?

"No". His angelic voice brought you back from your negative thoughts: “I would like more if we were dating real.”

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colleendoran · 9 months

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I was curious how you manage to keep features consistent when you draw them? Do you use models? Is there a model for Crowley? He is very handsome.

I don't use models per se, but I sometimes keep files of photos or art that resembles the subject.

Crowley is based a bit on the French actor Alain Delon who was once considered the handsomest man in the world. He doesn't look exactly like Delon, but that is in my head when I draw him. I recall reading Neil and Mr. Pratchett once considered Peter Sellers for Crowley.

There is no reference for Aziraphale because he is entirely in my head and I can't really find anyone who looks exactly the way he does. I recall reading that Neil and Mr. Pratchett thought of Brian Dennehy at one point, but my head canon Aziraphale won. I think a Brian Dennehy Aziraphale would have been amazing, though. Anyway, he is actually kind of hard for me to draw because his facial structure is a bit outside my usual style. His face is a bit long and his eyes closer together than I normally do, and if I'm not careful, he slips away. He appears younger and more classically handsome as an angel than he does in his corporeal form, but I think he's quite fetching as a bookseller.

Michael Sheen is so perfect in this role it is really hard not to leak bits of his performance into the graphic novel edition, but I have to resist the impulse. I am not allowed to use any of the show actors as models.

I adore Michael Sheen. Who doesn't?

Adam is also a head canon character. He is a perfect young Greek God, so that's kind of drawing on a day with a Y in it for me.

The inspiration for Newt I'm keeping a secret. I submitted a number of sketches for Newt. The show Newt dug in deep and I had a hard time shaking him off.

The Them are based on kids I knew. They're in my head, I don't need any photos. They don't really look like the kinds in the show. The book version of Pepper, for example, is a freckled red-head.

Anathema is an amalgam of features that don't come from one person, which I think fits the description of the character. She's also unusual for me to draw but she's easier to draw than Aziraphale. I nail her every time.

Hastur is a caricature of the stereotypical English upper class you'd see in broadsheets 200 years ago. I have a file of pictures of Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury for Hastur. I considered making Hastur more handsome in a Duke of Hell sort of way, but I think Hastur likes to be scary. I keep thinking of Peter O'Toole when I draw Hastur, too.

I feel kind of bad basing Hastur on Lord Ashley because he was a wonderful person and I'm sure he didn't go to Hell.

Ligur is a broad caricature of Danny Devito. I obviously can't use a DeVito portrait. That would be wrong. But I can tweak from there and come up with a general idea of the face I want to use.

Beelzebub and Metatron are head canon, and don't look a thing like they do in the show. I postulate some demons prefer to look like their angelic selves, and at other times prefer to be fearsome. Crowley can look fearsome when he wants, for example. In the book, Beelzebub appears as a young man in red flames.

Shadwell was drawn from reference at the direct suggestion of Neil.

Madame Tracy is based on a certain person, but no one you would have heard of. The original source might not be flattered, but I love Madam Tracy. She's really easy to draw because she's a bit over the top. I'm sketching around her scenes right now because I don't have final approval on some things yet. So she might need some changes later.

War is head canon, very easy to draw. She's a knockout. No reference required.

Famine looks a lot like Famine in the show, actually, but that's what Famine always looked like, pretty much. Except he has the grey eyes he has in the book.

Pollution is initially described as being a forgettable white guy, but later described as looking like a romantic poet, which strikes me as being memorable. Because he's only on one page in his forgettable white guy phase, I chose not to make major changes in his appearance between those panels and later when he appears as his true self, because that's a bit more confusing than it needs to be in the graphic novel edition. He's rather glamorous as the essence of Pollution, though. No reference needed.

Dog is a dog.

While I do give every detail a lot of thought, I am sure other people have other opinions. I understand that, and hope you enjoy what I do anyway.

Thanks for your question.

I'm still a bit under the weather, so may be stepping away from the net for awhile so I can concentrate on work. I have a lot of sick time to make up.

But don't think I don't appreciate your interest in the Good Omens graphic novel adaptation. Your wonderful support is acting on me like a tonic, let me tell you.

kickstarter

#good omens #good omens graphic novel #neil gaiman #terry pratchett

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pearlywritings · 3 months

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"Bring your kid to work" day

synopsis: but sometimes it's very much unplanned.

pairing and characters: Zhongli x fem!reader, Xiao. Your family name is Rex-Lapis. Childe plays part in it too.

tw: modern AU, University AU, established relationship, fluff

word count: 2.8k+ words

a/n: Also a part of my University modern AU with history professor Zhongli

The day started perfectly. Your older daughter was already at school with your permission to stay at her friend's house for a sleepover later, you had your day off, lounging in the living room with your son cuddling to you with his most favorite dragon shaped toy pressed between your bodies, listening to your husband walking around the bedroom, getting ready for the lectures at the University, being blessed with afternoon classes.

The day was perfect indeed. Until it absolutely isn't.

Sometimes you really want to kill your boss. It must be today that you are called to work to help with an emergency, that no one knows how to deal with except for you. And the fact that your boss does not consider any possibility of you having trouble with doing what's required, makes you fume harder.

"Li, I don't know what to do!" You cry in frustration, buttoning your shirt. "We can't find a babysitter in ten minutes! You have to go to work, I have to now too, we can't just ask Ganyu to cancel her plans, she's been waiting for this sleepover for weeks, and I can't take Xiao with me - by the sound of it I won't have a single moment to look after him."

It's been no longer than five minutes since you received that call, but you are already as stressed as after a week of non-stop work. Why must've the stars aligned this way!?

Your husband - bless his soul - is fully dressed and is holding your little son perched on his arm, supporting his back with a hand, watching your frantic movements with sympathy.

"I don't think I'll have many spare moments either, my love. Only breaks between lessons. Let me think," the man hums, leaning Xiao’s body more onto his shoulder and reaching for his phone with a free hand. The boy wraps arms around his neck, watching you brush your hair with a pout. The plan was to spend the whole day together with mama, watching cartoons, playing, maybe going for a walk or, ideally, taking a nap, finishing it all with making dinner and welcoming papa home. Now, it seems to him, all these plans are thrown out of the window.

However, Xiao was always a very perceptive and patient kid - he sensed somehow when the situation couldn’t be helped and him throwing a fit - not like he would - would only cause more trouble. That is why he is quietly waiting for what comes next.

And finally Zhongli finds a solution.

“I’m calling Ajax. He mostly spends time at the teacher’s lounge. As far as I know he really loves kids and has several younger siblings, he should be able to handle our son. And during breaks I’ll be taking over” “Oh,” as good as it all sounds, there is an instant hesitation in your mind. “‘Li, you sure you can ask him that? It’s a big deal after all…” “I know, dear, I know. That’s why I am calling him now in advance to make sure it’s alright,” your husband dials the number of his department’s secretary and puts the phone to the ear. “I don’t even mind paying him if he agrees.”

In reality you had nothing to worry about. The gingerhead was more than willing to watch your five-year old son. Maybe willing isn’t the right word even - the young man is excited.

Zhongli is lucky to arrive before the current class ends - the less attention is drawn, the better. He collected everything he could think of to occupy Xiao during his time at the lounge in a bag, which he passes to Ajax the moment his son and him are introduced. However while the secretary is wearing a wide and kind smile, the boy is glaring up at him from under the brown bangs, boring his strikingly golden eyes in the tall figure.

“Dad, I don’t like him,” the little boy pouts, hugging his plushie even tighter and throwing daggers at the gingerhead from behind the dragon’s mane.

“Ouch, little guy,” with a dramatic gasp, the young man clutches the shirt on his chest and presses the back of his hand to the forehead. “How will I live? Hated by Mr Rex-Lapis’ son…”

“Now, now, Xiao,” Zhongli gently pats his head, bending down to look into his eyes and finding displeasure there. “It’s only for today, baby. Me and mom are really sorry for not spending time with you today. I promise that soon I’ll be home for two whole weeks.”

To that the boy’s eyes widen.

“Two weeks… That’s fourteen days?”

“That’s right, sweety.”

“That’s a lot!” He jumps, elated by the news, no trace of dissatisfaction written over his cute smiling face.

“Haha, it is, dear.”

“Wow, Mr Rex-Lapis, your son is really smart!” The secretary stopped playing hurt, instead clapping his hands together in praise and nodding his head in approval. “How old is he?”

“He is five. Yes, he learns really fast.”

“No wonder, he has you and your wife as parents.”

The remaining 20 minutes before his first lecture Zhongli spends in attempts to make his son comfortable not only around Ajax, but also at the new place as well. All that time Xiao doesn’t let go of his ever-present companion - a toy dragon, which he is hugging close to his chest. He politely greets every professor that comes to the lounge, which makes the secretary’s jaw drop since he is the only one who’s been initially rejected and, Zhongli can swear, he saw his boy smirking in the toy’s fluffy mane.

Other professors can’t help but mention how much the son resembles the father, even making small talk with the boy, whom they’ve only heard about before or seen in the framed picture of your family on Zhongli’s desk. By how polite (sorry, Ajax) and shyly sweet he is Xiao quickly becomes everyone’s favorite, pockets currently full with all kinds of treats.

When it’s time to go, the man kisses Xiao’s forehead goodbye, promising to be back in an hour and a half for a break, and grabs the materials. Once he leaves alongside his colleagues, Xiao sighs and, ignoring his temporary caretaker, moves to the bag his dad left, starting to dig out all the candies to put them into its side pocket.

“Whatcha doin’, little guy?” The young man is at his side in two long strides, curiously watching the boy’s actions. Xiao gives him a side eye, before deeming the question plausible and turning back to his task.

“I don’t want them right now. I’ll bring them home and share with mom and dad.”

“I am sure they’ll like that,” Ajax hums, busying himself with the contents of the main section. “Oh, would you look at that! It seems that your dad packed some coloring books, toys and… oh, puzzles! You like puzzles?”

The boy quietly nods. Tiptoeing, he tries to see the two boxes his temporary caretaker is holding, and the young man immediately crouches down to let him look.

“This one is new,” Xiao finally points to the box in his left hand. Ocean blue eyes skim over the picture of a phoenix, drawn in a simple yet elegant style. Yes, that definitely looks like something Mr Rex-Lapis would’ve bought for his child’s entertainment.

“Alright, let's get you behind your dad's desk,” golden eyes sparkle and a glimpse of wonder appears on the boy’s face. Dad showed him his own space at the lounge; it's tidy and organized, with all the necessities sorted inside the drawers and some notes and pictures pinned to the corkboard on the wall to the left. He wants to see them closer!

His caretaker drags the chair back, but climbing on it Xiao performs himself. As Ajax is humming something while tearing off the tape on the puzzle box, the boy turns to look at the photos Mr Rex-Lapis has on display. It’s so funny, really - not so long ago this little fella’s father was an image of reserve to students, no one knew who his wife was or the fact he had two kids. The secretary remembers how just half a year ago he used to be among those only ones who knew of the professor’s secret (which, in reality, wasn’t a secret at all). Why hasn't he ever spilled any info to the students who adore him?

Well, what fun would’ve been in it?

“Is that your big sister?” Xiao quickly glances up, taking notice of how the tall (but not as tall as dad) man hovers over where he is sitting and points at one of the pictures. The boy looks at it again.

“...yes. It’s Ganyu.”

“I have a sister too,” the fond expression on that freckle-covered face and a seemingly lightened color of those ocean-blue eyes disarms the five-year old a little. He blinks, waiting for what more he can tell. “Not one actually. Oh, and I have brothers too. One is your age, by the way!”

“Doesn’t it get too… loud?” Small hands reach for the carton box, lifting the lid.

“It does, in a good way though. But when our two huskies join in on the fun… Let’s just say it’s a good thing we have our own house.”

“You have dogs? That’s so cool! I want to have a pet too,” Xiao unceremoniously empties the contents onto the table, yet carefully places the lid with the picture against the monitor of the computer. “Mom promised that when I get older, they’ll buy me a bird.”

“Oh? You love those?”

“Mhm… Maybe we’ll buy something as pretty as…” he pauses, looking at the fiery bird. Ajax quickly realizes the struggle.

“A fo-nuhks,” Xiao prompts.

“Yeah… A fee-niks.”

As the minutes tick by, the boy’s initial hostility seems to evaporate. He still doesn’t talk unnecessarily much, but he does talk to Ajax, so that's progress. He is quite quick to finish the puzzles, and his temporary caretaker makes sure to praise the child. They talk a bit more about their respective families, Xiao even introduces him to his dragon companion. And the gingerhead picks the small fox-shaped keychain his elder sister knitted for him to play toy pals.

For another half an hour it manages to entertain the boy, but as the end of the class is nearing, he grows more and more distracted, glancing either at the door or the clock hanging high on the wall. It’s not hard to guess he is missing his father and is anticipating his return, but both Zhongli and Ajax can do nothing to just speed the time.

What professor can do though, is excusing his class ten minutes earlier, quite happy they got to get through all the material he prepared for this lecture. Bidding the students goodbye, he locks the door of the auditorium with his suitcase inside and puts the key in the pocket of his fancy vest to come back in twenty minutes.

When Zhongli enters the teacher’s lounge, he finds the secretary showing his son something on his own laptop. However, once Xiao’s eyes spot his dad’s figure in the doorframe, the little guy is down from his chair and running all the way to the man.

“Dad!” Mr Rex-Lapis barely has time to close the door and scoot down to catch his son, who nearly bumps into his legs, threatening the man’s balance. Finally in his arms, with his own tiny ones tightly wrapped around strong neck, the carbon copy of Zhongli happily smiles and Ajax has to rub his eyes to make sure he is not hallucinating. Wow, this boy can smile like that (sorry, my guy, you are just not his favorite, though now tolerable at least).

“Hello, Xiao,” Zhongli plants an affectionate kiss on his son’s cheek. “I see you’ve missed me,” the words are answered with eager nods. “Did you have fun with Ajax?” At least some of it.

The gingerhead lifts his eyebrow when the boy looks back at him, holds the gaze of ocean blue eyes for a moment, and then turns to his father once more.

“I suppose.”

The older man has to clear his throat with a polite cough so as not to break into a smile at the image of the assistant's slack jaw.

“That’s good, my dear.”

“Are we coming home now?” His son wonders, fingers playing with the longer locks of dark brown. Unfortunately, the answer is a dejected sigh.

“I am afraid we are not yet, sweety. But mommy texted me recently that she’ll be able to come get you after my second lecture. And then I’ll have one more.”

At the promise of you soon arriving to take him home, Xiao’s just building pout quickly disappeared. It’s okay, he can wait for a little bit longer. And that fox-like man isn’t bad, his company is quite nice. He even showed him some pictures of his family - almost all of them are ginger. Oh, and he promised to download some simple games onto his dad’s computer so he could play. And he still has his coloring books back there and he believes he saw you packing a small book - there is plenty to entertain him with.

Only for all these thoughts and motivation to be shuttered when someone knocked on the door and a second later some student’s head pushed through the gap. None of the three people currently present in the room could’ve anticipated what a black hole is about to be opened.

“Good afternoon, is Mr Rex-La- Oh, professor, you are here! We were wondering if we could take the key to leave our bags inside? As always? Oh, hey kiddo- Wait, a kid???”

“Dad, who is it?”

“DAD!?”

Before anyone could do anything, loud gasps break their way into the lounge. It appeared that almost the whole group was standing in the hall and heard everything crystally clear. Of course students are curious. Of course, they know about professor Rex-Lapis’ kid - the news and that cute picture from an online lecture were still the talk of the whole faculty just a couple of months ago. Of course, they want to see those sweet cheeks for crying out loud!

Ajax is the one who has to get everyone who does not belong in the room out and calm them all down as more than a dozen youngsters beg and plead with Zhongli to bring his baby boy to the lecture. And the said baby boy doesn’t help the situation either, looking at his father with those striking eyes, silently asking to stay with him. “I’m gonna sit very-very quiet,” he even promises.

Is it really a surprise that Xiao ends up sitting at his dad’s desk with his coloring books while the man is reading a lecture? (Students almost crumbled when their tall, handsome, enigmatic history professor walked into the auditorium with his son’s tiny hand clasped in his? Look, he even had to bend his body a little to do so!)

And, as much as students want to gush all over their favorite professor’s small-sized carbon copy, they keep their best behavior, because the situation gives the “once in a century” vibes and they’d be damned to destroy the magic of the moment.

Well, maybe a little, because the smallest interactions between Zhongli and his son as the man lets his students finish writing down information from the current slide are mind-blowing. Groupchat-blowing too.

Even cuter the whole occurrence becomes when the boy stops drawing and lifts his head, curious of what his dad is speaking about. He turns slightly in order to see the presentation, golden eyes skimming over the pictures and words, though he does not understand most of it. But it’s alright though - he can listen to his father instead.

Zhongli is pleasantly surprised when no one can answer one of his revision questions and Xiao lifts his hand, giving him the answer he wanted (he misspells the word a little, sure, but he knew the right response nonetheless). Aaaand that’s probably when the students finally lose it.

By the time the lesson is over and Zhongli meets with you in the teacher’s lounge to pass your very happy and very proud son to you so you two could be on your merry way home, the man feels a little drained. Nothing that can’t be fixed by your tender cheek kiss and soft rubbing on his back, but he still exhales heavily and swears that when he comes home, you are in for a new story.

And by what Ajax had time to tell while you’ve been waiting, you're sure it’s going to be a hilarious one.

taglist: @meimeimeirin Cause I remember how you once said you'd love to see more of this AU

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x fem!reader #zhongli #xiao #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact modern au

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pigdemonart · 1 year

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Battle Subway Depot Agents (by pig-demon)

When I made designs for these guys last year I didn’t really think they needed colored references/master post, but since then I’ve drawn them a lot! Also people have added them to their fanfics and drawn fanart! So I figured it was time I made a post for easy ref. :]

These designs are obviously free to use, just give credit (and link me your work if you're comfortable, because it makes me happy to see!) All I request is to stay respectful to their pronouns and skin colors, ya knooow… 👍 note: The pokemon on their cards are all companions, not the ones they use on the Battle Subway. Except Jackie...the litwicks are just there to fill space/give them company.

More info under cut:

Edit: Important disclaimer:

These are again my designs/interpretations for the agents. Please don’t treat them as canon or as the only, quintessential designs for these literal background npcs. Many people have done takes on them before and after me, even back in 2010. It feels silly to ask, but due to past experience, I ask that you please DONT hunt down anyone that does a different take on the depot agents!! 👍

Tags:

I'm gonna start tagging them individually, but for now all Depot Agent comics and art on this blog are tagged under Depot Agents.

Height chart:

I’m not too strict about heights, so I don’t really care about actual measurements. Here’s an approximation of what I tend to visualize though:

Sexualities/Gender Identities: I don't have official labels for each and every agent because I like keeping things fluid for characters to develop these traits on their own. However, as a queer person, I enjoy designing characters who are also queer, therefore I can safely say none of these characters are straight. The ones who are set in stone are Ramses (gay man), Cloud (lesbian woman,) Jackie (non-binary.) Furze uses he/they pronouns but their gender is undetermined. I also welcome anyone giving the agents a different gender identity to suit them (as long as it's done respectfully.)

Notes about each agent...

Cameron:

- Cameron dyes parts of his hair blonde and keeps other parts in black. This is because he is a big fan of Elesa and her fashion choices. - Though there have been a few occasions to meet his idol, he is always way too nervous to approach her, feeling deep down that he'll mess up somehow. - He practices modeling poses in secret. He loves flourishes and flare, but is simply too insecure to put it on display. - Of his coworkers, he gets along the best with Furze. He's the easiest to talk to because Furze will do most of the talking. - Cameron is easily intimidated — even mean Pokémon can make him nervous. Though, his two worst fears are being left in a room alone with Jackie, and being left alone in a room with Isadore. - He takes advantage of his height to sometimes hide behind some of his coworkers. - Cameron is much better at Pokémon battles than he gives himself credit for. Emmet and Ingo were pleasantly surprised by this, since Cameron was promoted to fit a temporary role on the Battle Subway. They happily made him a permanent member when he proved himself capable. - His Dwebble (Pebby) is secretly very strong, and rushes to protect Cameron when it can. Cam sometimes thinks Pebby helps him feel more confident in himself too. - If he stumbled into any of his coworkers outside of work, he would simply explode of embarrassment. - He is the youngest child and only son of his family. He lives in his own apartment in Nimbasa.

Cloud:

- Cloud (like Ramses) knew the twins when they were very young. - She used to be an ace trainer in her youth, even going so far to compete in the Pokémon league. Winning and becoming the champ was the most important part of her journey, but something happened along the way that changed that outlook. - It seems with age, her competitiveness has mellowed out. However, she maintains an intense energy when battling. - Her favorite types are Psychic and Flying types. Swoobat (Sweetie) is her ace. - Her favorite hobby is baking, and she often bakes sweets for the crew. She knows all their favorite flavors by now! - She prioritizes keeping a friendly relationship with all her coworkers and thinks of them fondly. She considers Ramses family after all the years of working together! - She is a big fan of Brycen's movies and can recite the lines. - She lives with her wife in Anville. - Cloud loves doing maintenance work both at home and in Gear Station. She enjoys bringing her own tools and industrial flashlight.

Furze:

- Furze only has one volume setting (mid loud,) but he finds himself feeling right at home when talking to either one of the twins. - Furze has ADHD, and this is reflected in some of his habits, most visibly is his fidgeting when sitting still for too long. - He rides a bike to work every day. When he is late, Cloud clocks in for him so he doesn't get in trouble. - This is a kind of a guy that sits crouched gargoyle style on chairs. Only outside of work, of course. Bad posture could get him in trouble. - While working on the Battle Subway, there will be times Furze feels sorry for his opponents and offers to quietly let them pass anyways. This...has also gotten him in trouble. :[ - He went to the same elementary school as Isadore in Castelia. Though Isadore seems to have forgotten their short-lived acquaintance, Furze has not. This is part of the reason Furze claims they are in fact good friends!!! - Furze is the middle child of a big family. He lives with his mom and takes care of her, along with his many Darumakas and Darmanitan. All of his Pokemon have famous trains names. - He collects model trains. Naturally.

Isadore

- Isadore had plans to become the station master the moment he was hired as a depot agent, but alas... (sad trumpet sound.) - As a youth, he was more interested in science and engineering over Pokemon battles. He enjoys the strategizing aspect, at most. Not so much the competitiveness. - In addition, his Pokemon are all rescues and not used for battling. He's had his Watchog (Winston) since he was in his late teens. - His Electrode (Gregor) and Voltorb (Leonard) were rescued from the likes of Team Plasma. - Isadore admits he understands Pokemon better than humans. This has been apparent his whole life. - In spite of acting like a sitcom villain, Isadore cares about the management of Gear Station and the safety of the passengers to an incredible degree. He sees it as a personal life goal to assist in the management of Gear Station, as well as the success of the Battle Subway. - Though it pained him to become a subordinate to the twins, he begrudgingly accepts it for the greater good. - His almost militant efficiency certainly made up for his years of antagonizing the twins before they became the bosses. Ingo and Emmet understand this better than anyone. - Isadore keeps tabs on all of the staff members. So he very well knows all their birthdays and makes it a point to celebrate it. This is by no means a -happy- or -festive- event. It's just customary. - Like Furze, he was originally from Castelia, but now resides in Nimbasa. Isadore's only family is his mom and she lives in his childhood home with their Stoutland. - Isadore would have probably been voiced by every glasses guy ever J. Michael Tatum had he not already been cast as dear Emmet lmao

Jackie

- Jackie is a mystery and they like keeping it that way. When they talk, it's practically impossible to determine what is a lie or truth, especially if the subject is themselves or their background. - They love scaring Cameron the most and will ask to be paired with him whenever possible. They claim Cameron is their "favorite coworker," while Isadore is the least favorite. - It's plain to see why -- Jackie is the only one that doesn't passively tolerate Isadore's tirades. - Though my comics sometimes may allude to Jackie being a ghost/supernatural, this is not confirmed nor canon. I just personally enjoy toying with the concept. : ) That being said...

- Item #: SCP 7453

- Object Class: Euclid

- Special Containment Procedures: The ████ ██████ is ██████ within ████-██████. - Ingo and Emmet choose to not question anything about Jackie, since it's clear they're one of the more efficient workers. However it can be a safety concern... - Cloud and Ramses have worked with Jackie for a long time, though they've forgotten somehow. They believe Jackie is a new hire since they appear to be young. - Anyone trying to make sense of Jackie's employee records simply can't bring themselves to any conclusions. It's better to ignore the inconsistencies. - Jackie has never been seen to leave Gear Station. Jackie has never been seen in anything but their uniform. Jackie has never been confirmed to eat, drink or blink. Jackie knows your secrets. Jackie thinks it's... amusing.

Ramses

- Ramses sometimes misses having a full head of hair, but he thinks his signs of age make him look distinguished. (he is correct.) - Ramses is sort of the "mom friend," making sure everyone's concerns are heard, as well as trying to keep the peace whenever a conflict might arise. - If another coworker is feeling low, Ramses will try to cheer them up with a lighthearted joke or offer advice if they'd like it. - When the twins were promoted to bosses of the Battle Subway, Ramses cried because he felt so proud. - In most circumstances, he is a very simple and logical man. He is quick to find solutions and tries not to fret over the little stuff. It's not good for his heart after all. - His ace is his Pikachu (Musa,) though the mouse is more of a lap pet now. At home, he also has an Audino (Sara) and a Manectric (Nubi) who keep Ramses' husband company. His Klinklang (Moli) is the only one of his personal pokemon that accompany him to work nowadays. - Ramses considers Cloud family. They are best friends and love having family gatherings outside of work. They also gossip a lot, and don't mind when Jackie decides to join. - Ramses jokes about looking forward to retirement, but really doesn't want to leave until he is physically incapable of working anymore. Gear Station is like a second home to him.

In-Game Quotes

The most important reference of all are their in-game quotes, of course, so I'm adding it to the post. A lot of their personality traits can be extracted and interpreted from these few lines. And I personally love that about Pokemon NPCs -- there's a lot of room to explore and play with. Some appear very obvious. Cameron practically announces that he isn't ready for the battle that's about to ensue and seems genuinely surprised to win. Furze comes out the gate talking about the subject they actually care about, which is their job and their love for trains. The two of them are very easy to understand. Now, Ramses lines allude to a gentle and simple personality. He views himself with humility, and maybe even with a bit of humor comparing himself to a train and to his opponent to a station. If he loses he shows no signs of disappointment, he just accepts defeat with one last honest quip. It s also amusing to see the Depot Agents all use train metaphors to describe themselves since it falls in line with how Ingo and Emmet talk.

In comparison, Cloud does the same thing calling herself the terminal instead. Immediately, she is way more daring, though still keeping a sense of professionalism. To me, it's obvious she is competitive as she even admits she was expecting to win ("Ah...I didn't see it coming.") Jackie's lines are fun since it's up to interpretation if they are being literal or lying. It's almost like they are more interested in confusing/creeping out their opponent than actually beating them. To me, it gives off a mischievous vibe. Isadore's opener "There are only two roads in life." is a curious one because it almost feels like he is trying to be philosophical. Definitely a guy who views himself as an intellectual, regardless if that’s true or not. I like to think it's a saying he really believes in, and it applies to his life. The road he likes (long route) vs the road he hates (shortcut) -- fighting tooth and nail to become boss vs biting his tongue and accepting Ingo and Emmet as the Subway Masters.

Those are just my thoughts on how I write these characters. Please have fun playing with these lines too!

#depot agents #depot agents master post #my art #submas #submas adjacent ahaha #will probably edit as time goes on but who knows really #if you spot any typos no you dont kiss kiss #cameron #cloud #furze #isadore #jackie #ramses

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imhenritz · 8 months

Text

Giving him the love he deserves (Sanji x Reader)

I have had this idea in my head for quite some time. I enjoyed writing it, but I don't know how to continue and if I would.

Reader is Mc or Main Character, but I made it sound like it's a name! I'm too lazy to think of a real name. Forgive me! Y/N didn't feel right somehow *sweats* Could this still be considered x reader? Oh god.

The prompt in my head goes like this: "The reader gets sucked into One Piece after wishing that someone would love Sanji like he is supposed to be loved, as nobody has given him a chance. She would love to give him that chance if only she could. One time, she was in her room, falling asleep while recording her voice for a cover request sent to her. When she woke up, she found herself in a boat floating, wearing pieces of jewelry fit for nobility. Her neck, ears, and bracelets were all glittering in the darkness." Story under the cut! Part 2 here!

She hated the dark. There were no lights to be seen, and her eyes adjusted to the darkness, recognizing she had been in a lifeboat. A medieval one; she knew this because of museums she had visited, always drawn to pirate ships, wondering how it would be then.

Everything was quiet, like she was completely alone and trapped. Shouting would be pointless at this point. Absent-mindedly, she started singing "Jolly Sailor Bold." It had been a few days; she was starving and weak. She caught herself and huffed, “If I die, I might as well go in style,” she continued.

She kept repeating it until she got tired and chose to lie down and look up at the stars. They were never this clear in her city.

When she woke up, it was with a man with a braided blonde mustache talking to a few more men. “Ah, the lass. Must be shipwrecked.”

“-Must be loaded…”

“Jewelries…”

She could barely catch their whispers. Groggy and weak, she looked up at the man. It must have been dawn. “Please help me.” Holding her throat, she felt the jewels that were like stones. “Take everything-” She wet her lips, trying to swallow the moisture in her mouth, which she didn’t think was there. “Jewel… Please.”

She lost the ability to talk but could feel a soft arm taking her in. The smell of aftershave and nicotine lulled her to sleep.

“I got you, Madame.”

She woke up to Sanji greeting her with food and saw her eat it without any grace, making him let out a chuckle, and she glared weakly, more embarrassed than mad. “I’m sorry; I lost count of how long I was in the sea.”

“Try 85 days.”

“What—85?” her eyes widened as he grinned. He gestured to the seat next to her bed, and she nodded. “I’m sorry. I think I was only there for a week—”

He shook his head. “It’s not about the days. It’s experiencing hunger. You gave up every bit of your jewelry, you know.”

She reached for her neck and huffed. “Those jewels meant nothing if you can’t eat or drink.”

“Damn right.”

Her eyes went to the door, where she recognized the man who saved her. She thought she was in a dream before, but it’s uncanny how both are real-life versions of Zeff, and now looking at the young blond man at her side—Sanji?

“You’re an aristocrat. I’m sure a few pieces won’t go missing,” the older man grumbled. He kicked the young blond’s head. “Give up the seat, little eggplant.”

Sanji lookalike grumbled but did mutter, “Old shit bag.”

She gasped, blinking, piecing things together. “Little eggplant…” she muttered in disbelief.

“I assure you it has nothing to do with—”

Zeff lookalike chuckled. “I assure you he is every single bit of a little eggplant,” he smirked and brushed his mustache down, making them bounce up, resisting the brush. “They call me Zeff. What’s your name, lass?”

“Mc, sir,” she bowed deeply. “I owe you my life, Sir Zeff. Please let me repay you somehow.”

“Another one on the bag,” he mumbled.

The blond man saw the chance and began, “My name is Sanji. You can call me whatever you—”

“—Your family must be looking for you. Where are you from?” Zeff watched as she gulped and looked away from him, mouth opening and closing with no words. “I can’t let you stay here and be seen as a kidnapper—”

“—Old man, what if she runs away? We have extra rooms—”

“No, no stuff on the boat. It’s shipwrecked. Can’t let the place close because of a stowaway—”

“NO!” she stopped him with a loud voice, causing both to stop. “I’m sorry. This might sound crazy, but I’m not from around here. I don’t think I am,” she gulped.

“Could you have amnesia?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Please don’t kill me, but I think I know who you are and where I am. Please let me finish.”

She gave them a recap of what she knew, and both men were quiet. She pulled on her IV, hissing at the pain. “I’m sorry. I will go now; I’m sure you won’t want anyone like me here, after knowing all of those. I think the jewels are real. Although I’m not sure if they are since I just woke up wearing them—”

“You are staying, lass.”

“I know. I’m sorry—let me.” She stood, but her legs didn’t work as they were supposed to, and she fell on her knees. Sanji was there to help her.

“I know I gave you 85 days as a hint. But damn, giving out the whole story. So you know me and everything?”

She nodded, and Zeff began to laugh. “Just when I thought I had seen all the world has to offer.”

“You’re just going to accept this, you old man?”

Zeff smirked, “Anyone could have lied better than that.” He looked at Mc and smiled. “I won’t have a freeloader here. You know what this place is, then.”

She nodded, “I can wash the dishes, clean the toilet—wait tables.”

“God no. I don’t need a woman in my kitchen or in the toilet. You’ll wait tables. You start tomorrow.”

Sanji stood, still supporting her. “She can’t even walk!” he protested.

Zeff was about to reply when she patted Sanji’s hand. “I’ll start tomorrow, sir Zeff. Thank you so much.”

"Just Zeff will do, lass"Zeff grumbled and began walking to the door, hearing Sanji sweet-talking her as she left. “Patty will help you with your clothes.”

Sanji paused and shouted, “Old man, Patty won’t know what fashion is if it knocks on his head!”

Zeff glared. “More than you.”

**===**

“I have to say, having the girl waiting on tables isn’t bad,” Patty said, seeing how everyone can actually work in the kitchen better now. She works fast, and all the cooks have to do is the labor of bringing out the heavy meals.

“She has a great smile, pleasing personality—”

“Charming!”

“A sight for sore eyes, you lot aren’t,” Patty chortled, laughing as he proceeded to cart in the finished meals. He smirked, seeing one certain sous chef who was grumbling under his breath as he was stirring a pot. He walked closer, pushing the cart to a designated dishwasher for the week. “Got to get a move on that soup.”

Sanji glared and hissed, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Never thought I’d see the day you would hate being in the kitchen,” Patty leaned forward from the preparation counter.

“Who hates being in the kitchen?” Zeff entered, making Patty straighten up and busy himself, but not before smirking with Carne. “The shit cook wants to wait tables, boss.”

Zeff rolled his eyes, “He is staying in the kitchen. Can’t afford to have him kick another customer out on a whim.”

Sanji took off the ladle he had been stirring and turned, “He was flirting with Mc!”

“And?” Zeff huffed, “You do the same with every woman who darkens the door, little eggplant.”

“Yeah!” Carne added, “She must have learned that from you! That woman charms women and men! Makes you look like an amateur!”

They laughed. “Someone’s getting a taste of their own medicine.”

“Ooooh, getting a taste of their medicine?” Mc walked in, heels clicking on the tiled floor, smiling. “Who is it this time?” She looked expectantly at everyone, who dispersed. “Hey!”

Sanji was about to float over to her when Zeff interrupted. “Lass, your notepad seems to be getting thinner.”

Mc looked down at her little notepad, with a grimace she apologized. “Sorry, Zeff, I just take so many notes. I would need a new one tomorrow.”

Zeff chuckled, “Those notes make customers feel like you’ve known them forever. Take this and buy yourself a whole stack of notes—”

“—Thank you!”

“I can, of course, escort you tomorrow!” Sanji offered, now getting to Mc, who was glowing from the berries that Zeff had handed over.

“Oh no, no need, Sanji. It’s just notes. I can handle it.”

“Get the lass the notebook from my room, Sanji. This one won’t last the night.”

Mc smiled at Sanji, and he went tapping Carne, gesturing to the pot.

As soon as Sanji left, he pulled out a list. “Take him to carry stuff.”

“Oh, okay,” Mc nodded, going over the list that had meat and rice on it. “That makes sense. It’ll be best to get everything at once.” She gasped. “I almost forgot we got this order from table 8, 5, and 2!” ripping off three papers and pinning them overhead of the pot Sanji was cooking.

She breezed out of the kitchen when the bell rang. “Thank you again, Zeff!”

She exited the door when Zeff hollered, “Buy yourself something else too!”

If she was drawn at that moment, she would surely have flowers in the background.

Carne looked at Zeff, who just returned it with a raised brow. “We got enough ingredients for next week.”

Zeff brushed his braided mustache. “The little eggplant deserves the break for how obedient he has been lately,” he chuckled. “Even volunteered to wait tables!”

**===**

“I’m pretty sure by the way you keep feeding me this expensive food, I’ll be in debt forever, Ji,” Mc sighed in content as she savored the dessert she just served earlier, which cost berries she'd earn in a day.

“Then you’ll stay forever with me,” Sanji winked, wiping the utensils they washed together dry.

Mc grinned, “You won’t hear me complaining,” taking another bite, she remembered something, causing her to pause.

Sanji paused and bit his cheek, watching the spoon in her mouth and her fishing out a paper and sliding it to him. “I hope this is a love letter.”

Mc pulled the spoon clean and held it up. “Unfortunately not, I thought about giving you one with the orders, but I don’t know if Carne or Patty will process the order instead, so I held back.”

Sanji blinked. Mc had always flirted back with him and accepted his flirtations, but he always thought it was a game they were playing. She was just charming, and she knew his past; why would someone like that return his love?

“I have a favor to ask, Sanji.”

He raised a brow, taking the paper but not opening it. “It’s a yes, whatever it is, darling.”

Mc opened her mouth to respond as if it was their usual game when she paused and stopped his hand from picking up the slid paper he just covered with his hand.

“Take me out on a date.”

His mind stopped. He watched her eyes, vulnerable and sincere. “Darling…” he trailed.

She can’t be playing with him. She must know how he couldn’t resist females, especially not her. Someone he treasures.

They went on a date. He planned it all out. She made him feel like he is the only man she could see. It was addicting to have all her attention just on him.

**===**

No one asked how old she was; no one was crude enough to ask, not with him, Carne, Patty around. She had always acted maturely. He was sure she was young, younger than him in appearance at least. Her mental age was around mid or late 20’s. Her actions were so, as he observed from their patrons.

It had been years since she drifted on their restaurant. Ever since his 19th birthday, Sanji had noticed her checking the orders or peeking at the customers as if waiting for someone or loud noises. She knew what was going to happen but refused to tell, afraid it won’t happen.

Then the chore boy appeared. Mc was so gentle and nice to him, always saving him and sneaking him food and patting his head. It wasn’t like she wasn’t giving him attention, but she was giving more energy to him. He didn’t like it one bit.

It was night; she was out for her regular singing at night, a small boat a few meters away from the restaurant. She never told anyone; they believed she assumed nobody could hear her, but they did. Everyone kept their windows open to hear her sing.

In her long nightgown covering everything but her hands and face. The glow of the night lamp she brought with her gave her a soft, ethereal glow.

“I always wanted a musician! Be my friend!”

Sanji’s heart leaped. If she left with the chore boy, he would never see her again. She smiled and patted the boy’s head, pushing his straw hat out of the way. “I can only play the guitar and not that well though.”

“Who cares? We can find one that plays music! We’re friends now!”

Her peal of laughter filled the darkness. “I’ll be just a singer then?” she smiled and sighed, “I would only in one condition.”

“Condition?”

She urged him closer and whispered, and before the boy could shout it, she held a finger on his lips. “You can’t tell anyone.” Part 2 here! Thank you for reading! I've never written for Sanji or One Piece before, but this idea won't let me sleep. It's a shame to leave it in my drafts to collect dust. Here's my tribute!

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hederasgarden · 2 years

Text

Bloodlust

Summary: After battle, Aemond visits your tent.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lady Wife!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Rough sex, fingering, biting, knife play and PIV sex. Basically smut with feels.

A/N: Thank you @whatblogisthis216, @shootingthroughthemoon, @handoverthekawaii and @shadycloudphilosopher for their help with this!

Likes are lovely but comments and reblogs make my day!

Masterlist

The ground shakes and the distant, angry roar of a dragon deafens the camp. Even from within your tent, you recognize Vhagar’s cry.

Your husband has returned.

There is no telling his mood, it varies wildly these days as the fighting intensifies. Some days he has little time for you, pouring over maps and plans with the men he commands until the early morning hours only to leave again soon after. Other days he wants nothing more than to lose himself in the comfort of your body, working hard to make your belly swell with a child again. What he wants from you today remains to be seen but it’s best to be prepared.

You stand, drawing the attention of the small gathering of women and servants in your tent.

“Thank you all for joining me this afternoon. I think it’s time for me to retire for the day,” you announce.

They bid you goodbye quickly and you watch them slowly file outside. It’s best for everyone if they’re not present when Aemond arrives. Your husband cared little for propriety when his blood lust was high from battle. His reputation and missing eye frightened many of the ladies; you couldn’t imagine their scandalized expressions if they saw him how you did in those unrestrained moments. He had scared you once too but that was when you were young and naive. Your head was filled with rumors about his awful deeds and garish appearance.

Now you know better. There was no doubt he could be cruel and violent. You’d seen first hand how easily he crushed his enemies and those that would harm the ones he loved, though he was never unkind to you. Even in the beginning when you were nothing to one another he protected you fiercely simply because you were his. He was gentle then too, his eye always seeking yours to determine your reaction to each touch and kiss he placed on your body and for that alone you would have cherished him but over the years you'd grown to love him too.

“Princess….” You turn, surprised to find one of the newer servants watching you with an unexpectedly concerned expression. “Would you like me to remain?”

“I can handle the Prince,” you assure her with a smile. “Go. Please…”

“As you wish,” she says, dipping her head and disappearing through the flaps of the tent.

When your betrothal to Prince Aemond was announced, this was hardly how you imagined passing your days. You expected something more sedate and safe within the Red Keep but your husband liked you close. It kept him calm and focused, reminding him of what he fought for. You learned to love the freedom it gave you outside his mother’s watchful eye and the King’s lecherous one.

Your only warning before Aemond stalks through the tent flaps is a hushed greeting of, Your Highness, from the guards stationed at the entrance of your tent. He ignores them, his eye focused solely on you as he sheds pieces of his outer armor with each step. As he continues his steady approach, his sword and outer doublet fall to the floor. The last thing to be removed is his eye patch and your gaze is automatically drawn to the brilliant sapphire jewel nestled there. It frightened many but you found him handsome like this.

“My Prince,” you greet. “How was the battle? Did you-” whatever words you would say to him are cut off by his mouth on yours.

He kisses you roughly, grabbing your hip and neck possessively. Together you stumble towards the bed in the corner of the room, his hands groping your body. When your legs tangle in your skirts Aemond grasps the back of your thighs, practically throwing you on the bed in a fit of impatience.You hardly have time to recover before he’s on top of you, slender fingers ripping at the collar of your dress to bare your shoulders to him. His teeth find your neck and you groan, hips rising to press against his. He sucks at the impression he’s left in your skin as he fumbles with your dress, seeking the warmest part of your body.

It doesn’t take long for him to grow impatient with your clothing and pull back. A grunt is your only warning before a dagger appears. Another woman might cower in fear at the sight but you only felt a peculiar rush of desire you had long since stopped trying to understand. Aemond was skilled with all manner of weapons and you learned about his penchant for small blades after the wedding. It was a favored bedmate for the both of you by now. You loved to watch him wield it. There was something beautiful about the way he handled it, the dagger moving between his fingers like water over stone.

In a flash your dress is split down the middle. Aemond wrenches it open with two hands, baring your upper body to his hungry gaze. The cold air washes over your heated skin and you shiver. He smirks and drags the flat of the blade over one breast and then the other until your nipples harden into peaks. He follows the cool blade with his warm tongue and you moan, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I should keep you naked all the time,” he whispers.“I could command it and you would listen, my obedient little wife.”

He doesn’t wait for your response before shifting down your body, flipping the knife easily in his hand to make quick work of the lower half of your dress. When he is done it hangs in tatters off your body along with your small clothes. He looms over you, something in his gaze both thrilling and terrifying. In moments like this, it’s not hard to believe the tales about the madness that lives within each Targaryen. Aemond looks like he could devour you whole.

“I’ve been dreaming of this warmth,” he admits, long fingers stroking the thick patch of curls at the apex of your thighs. He continues speaking, his voice smooth and hypnotic. “Of how tight and hot you’d feel around me.”

You’re wet enough that when he seeks out your bundle of nerves his fingers slip easily over the sensitive flesh, teasing your entrance only to pull away a second later. You stare up at him, breath ragged as you wait to see what he will do. He smirks, withdrawing his hand and laying his body over yours. The weight of him presses you into the bed, spiking the molten heat that builds in your stomach

“I’d kill for you, for this,” he whispers, lips sliding over yours to cut off the gasp you make when he forces a hand between your bodies and curls two fingers possessively inside you.

You tear your lips away from his. “Aemond, please.”

“Beg for me sweetling,” he encourages, stroking you until you’re dizzy and hot. He builds you up effortlessly, teeth scraping over your neck while his fingers work your desperate cunt. You’re close to the edge of pleasure and you beg Aemond mindlessly for it, tossing your head side to side.

“That’s it, come for me,” he encourages, guiding you through the rapture you feel, not letting up even when the tears come. By the time he’s done with you, you’re limp and trembling, but you know from the look in his eye that he’s nowhere close to being done. Aemond withdraws his fingers, sucking them clean while he watches you. His expression is dark and full of desire.

“Turn over, little wife,” he commands.

It’s difficult in your current state but he helps by pulling the ruined dress from your body and guiding you to lie on your stomach. You watch him over your shoulder while he undoes the lacing of his breaches, a slight shake in his hand is the only sign he’s not as in control as he seems. You turn away and press your cheek into the cool linens, allowing him to position you the way he likes.

Calloused hands spread your legs wide and you jolt at the feel of his tongue sweeping through your folds. He hmms in response, warm air ghosting over your sensitive skin before drawing away. The bed dips and he settles one hand beside your head while the other grabs the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he pushes inside the wet heat of you. Your fingers curl into the sheets and both of you groan when he bottoms out.

Aemond’s moving before you have a chance to adjust, his knees pushing your thighs even further apart to allow him deeper. The rough fabric of his pants drags against your tender skin and his grip on your neck tightens. The knowledge that he’s still fully clothed while you are laid out naked under him heightens your pleasure. With a man like Aemond you’re always vulnerable but he never makes you feel smaller or less then, only desired.

“Husband,” you gasp, mouth parting in a soundless cry.

“Wife,” he answers with a growl, snapping his hips harshly.

The world narrows to the ache between your thighs and how he fills you over and over again. Even though you just came you can already feel something building in your stomach again. There’s nothing you can do to hurry it along when your husband is like this. He is a force of nature, one you can only submit to. Aemond releases your neck and falls to his elbows, chest pressing against your slick back. The room fills with the sound of his flesh slapping against yours. His breath is hot across your cheek. Half-whispered words in old Valyrian pass his lips but your mind goes fuzzy as your orgasm crests and washes over in a rush. Aemond’s movements grow more desperate as you clench around him, your body trying to draw him in further.

“You’re mine, only mine” he growls. "Say it,” he pants, spilling inside your body and sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

Finally, his hips slow and you push yours back, wanting more of him. Aemond grunts and holds you still with a harsh grip on your waist. You stay like that, tangled together for several long moments before he pulls back, brushing a soft kiss to your shoulder. The tender action is so unexpected in his current state that your heart beats faster in response.

“I belong to you,” you whisper, turning your head to meet his lips for a messy, possessive kiss that steals your breath. He plunders your mouth and thrusts into you once more. It's both too much and not enough. You squirm beneath him until he finally releases you.

“I will have to leave again this evening,” he says, stroking your sides. “The usurper bitch does not rest.”

“Then neither will you,” you reply. You hate when he leaves but you know until this war is over, he’ll never fully be yours.

“There is still some time until I need to leave. Enough for me to have you again and again.” You clench around him in response and he laughs. “To remind me what I’m fighting to come home to.”

“Always,” you agree.

♡

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#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #ameond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine

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ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 1

Yeah...I know I said I would be taking a step back but then my muse went “Brrrrr!” and wouldn’t let me up until I had over 6k words and several more scenes I wanted to do, including the end.

Art student!Steve and Live Model! Eddie AU. Enemies to lovers. Eddie is a straight up ass in the first few chapters of this.

Steve was in the library looking at his schedule with Robin.

“It’s my last semester, Robs,” he said squinting at the computer screen. “And then I can graduate.”

Robin sighed. “I still have a year to go, you are so lucky.”

Steve was looking at the remaining credits he needed to graduate with art teaching degree and was shocked to find that he only needed one class.

“Shit.”

She leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer, too.

“Shit,” she echoed.

“Live figure drawing,” Steve muttered with an air finality. “The class I failed three times.”

“Mhmm,” Robin agreed. “Once a year.”

He banged his head on the desk. “I hate that class. And it’s always awful. There was the creepy old man that kept hitting on me the whole time.” He had been forced to drop the class. He had been reimbursed for it, but because it happened just after the midterm, insta-fail. “Then there was poor heavy-set girl. The constant sniggering and jeering made me ill and when the professor refused to anything about it...” he shook his head.

“Yeah, that was the worst,” Robin whispered. “But at least that incident got that professor fired.”

Steve nodded. That had been the only good thing that had come out of that class. But getting him fired made for another insta-fail. He tried to protest that one, but the Dean refused to budge.

“The last time was all you, though,” she said, pushing at his shoulder.

Steve cleared his throat and hung his head. Because, yeah that one was on him.

The new professor brought in an extremely fit basketball player. Steve had spent very little time drawing and a lot of time trying not to stare. So when he turned in his final with a blurry face and nothing drawn in the middle, he had failed the class again.

Robin pointed at the screen. “It’s a different teacher again this year.”

Steve lifted his head to look at what she was pointing at. J. Byers.

“Shit,” he murmured. “You don’t think that’s like Joyce Byers, do you?”

Steve had done a lot of babysitting and holding down two jobs to pay for school out his own pocket because his dad wasn’t willing to pay for what amounted to an art degree. He would work at Family Video while the kids were in school and then work at the plant at nights on weekends.

Will Byers was one of those he babysat. The kid had an older brother. But he had been working full time to keep the lights on while their mom got a master’s degree.

Robin’s mouth worked but no sound came out.

“I think this got even more awkward,” Steve murmured.

Robin just patted his shoulder in sympathy.

Steve was in hell. That was the only explanation for all of this. It had been Joyce Byers and he had to get the Dean to sign off him being in her class because she might be accused of favoritism. In fact if it hadn’t been the only class Steve needed to graduate he was pretty sure the Dean wouldn’t have allowed it.

Which was fine. Awkward, but fine. Nope. The part that made it hell was who was currently sitting on a stool in the middle of the classroom, (completely dressed, thank god!) was Eddie Munson.

The so-called Freak of Hawkins High. Or as Steve called him in his head “Steve Harrington’s biggest gay crush.” So yeah. All that work to get special permission to take the class and he was going to fail anyway.

Joyce stepped up to stand next to Eddie. “Hello, I’m Mrs Byers. Or Joyce, whichever make you more comfortable. Because that’s the point of this class. You being comfortable. I know this not ideal for a lot people. Especially young people like yourselves. So we’re going to start off slow. Working on different parts of the body and then for your final it will the complete nude form.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. He wasn’t the only one, thank god, but if Eddie had stripped then and there, Steve would have fainted.

“This will be your live model this semester,” she continued, indicating to Eddie on the stool. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Eddie grinned, his dimples making themselves known. “Hi! I’m Eddie. I was looking for a way to make easy money between gigs with my band. I have tattoos, but Joyce here has assured me that that won’t be problem for you sweethearts as this is an advanced art class.”

Steve gulped. It wasn’t going to be a problem art-wise. But libido-wise? He was in so much trouble.

After class he stopped to talk to Joyce.

“Hey, Mrs Byers,” he greeted with barely the hint of a stammer. “How’s Will?”

Joyce hugged him. “It’s so good to see you, honey. Will is doing great. He’s navigating school better now that we’re back in Illinois.”

Steve nodded. They had briefly gone out to California so that she could get some special accreditation or something like that.

“Tell him I miss him,” he said.

Joyce smiled. “Of course, sweetie.” She gave his hand a squeeze and said she had to get back to work.

Steve nodded again and walked out the door.

“Well, well, well,” Eddie said. “If it isn’t the former king of Hawkins High. I thought I saw you lurking in the back.”

Steve closed his eyes and turned slowly. There he was, leaning against the wall, one leg propped against, while the other stretched out in front of him. His arms were crossed, and his hair dangled in front of his bowed head. Steve itched to draw him oh so badly.

“Munson,” he said trying to keep the tremor from his voice.

Eddie lifted his head. “So you do remember me, should I feel honored?”

Steve let out a heavy sigh. “You do what you want, you always have.”

“I heard you got special permission for this class,” Eddie sneered. “You convince the Dean to take the class for a lookie-Lou? Sorry to disappoint, Harrington. Not some hot chick you can leer at for fifteen weeks.”

Steve’s head rocked back in shock. “Fuck you, man. For starters I got special permission because being the former babysitter for teacher is a bad look for both of us. For another, this is my last class I need for my art degree.”

Eddie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Daddy let you take art? Must really not need the dough.”

Steve balled his hands to prevent the rage from tumbling out. “No. I worked hard to get where I am. And for the record...they never have hot women. Not if they don’t want to get sued for harassment. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to work because not all of us can take our clothes off and be paid.”

He stormed off, tears streaming down his face.

Eddie watched him go with a slow lick of his lips. That went differently then he expected. He didn’t think Harrington would cop to admitting that he was there to leer, but his lie about art school? That was a new low.

And babysitting? No parent in their right mind would leave Steve “the Hair” Harrington in charge of their kids. Lie number two.

And then trying to get out of talking to him by saying he had work? Harrington lived in Loch Nora. The richest part of town. He didn’t have to work a day in his life. Lie number three.

And what was that about not being able to take off his clothes and get paid? It didn’t sound right to his ears. It was like he wasn’t dogging the modeling gig but that he couldn’t.

Which anyone who had eyes knew that was bullshit.

Joyce came out and saw him still standing there. “Thank you again for doing this, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome, Joyce,” he said with a charming smile. “I don’t mind. I’m sorry your other model bailed on you last minute though.”

Joyce sighed. “She got a bar tending job that starts on tonight and I’d really prefer not to have my models fall asleep in the middle of posing.”

“Chrissy’s good girl,” Eddie said. “I’m actually glad she got the job at the bar. Some of the guys in the class looked pretty slimy.”

Joyce sighed. “It happens every time. They take just enough art classes in order to get in and then are disappointed when it’s not some pretty girl.”

Eddie nodded, thinking of Steve Harrington.

“And this school has had a problem with a couple of the last models they had,” Joyce murmured. “If another incident occurs, the class will be dropped all together and I’ll be out of job.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he said, with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder.

Joyce looked up at him with a smile. “You’re so sweet, Eddie. I’m glad Will found someone like you to look up to.”

Eddie blushed, shoving his hair in his mouth. “I like the kid. He’ll do just fine.”

Joyce nodded. “See you tomorrow.” She waved goodbye and walked away.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Epilogue

Just tagging a few of my regulars, but if you want to be tagged let me know in the comments. Thanks!

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #art school au #gay steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #ladykailtiha writes

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animasola86 · 2 months

Note

I had the idea of facesitting with professor sharp but reader (or mc idk what you prefer) is hesitant

Thank you for the ask! I went a little overboard with this (as I often do), and I apologize for whatever I made this fine gentleman do, but I hope you still enjoy! (If anyone would like to request me with anything as well, please go on ahead! My asks are open!)

Fountain of Youth

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x f!mc

Genre: Fluff/Smut // Words: 4.2k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: Aesop Sharp has tried everything to soothe the aches of his battered body, and nothing seems to work, but then he comes across a well of youth in the form of a young lover who is willing to feed him everything he's ever wanted, and more.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Established student/teacher relationship. Size difference. Age gap. Oral sex. Facesitting. Fingering.

Fountain of Youth

They say having a young lover is good for body and soul, and he couldn't agree more. When Aesop Sharp decided to throw caution to the wind and indulge in a rather unusual and certainly forbidden kind of affair, he knew he'd do anything to keep his girl entertained. Not that she ever demanded it, no, she was far from requesting anything, she was the most selfless person he had ever met, and most of the time she was doing everything to keep him happy.

And how happy he was when she would indulge him. It had taken him a while to accept her generous offers, but now he couldn't live without them, without her, be it bouncing on his lap, hidden between his thighs under his desk, or simply pressed against him in bed, deeply connected.

And he wanted to give back, but the state of his body often forbade any activity that was more than sliding his cock into her tight heat. It pained him, literally and mentally, that he couldn't indulge her the same way she did him.

She didn't mind, of course. And she never complained, not even when she left his office or bedroom with a limp because her body had struggled to accommodate the immense size difference between them. She was so tiny in his arms, to be fair he was a giant amongst humans, figuratively, and still she seemed to thrive on it, embrace it and him whenever she could, no matter how much pain he caused her.

Then again she must be some sort of masochist if she spent her time with him rather than with the other seventh-years. He was still a grumpy old man most of the time, even though he wasn't that old, but next to her he did feel his age sometimes.

And yet they connected somehow, not just physically. He felt drawn to her, felt his heart beat faster when he saw her, when she smiled at him. When she'd touch him, his skin would tingle and his sore muscles warmed in anticipation, whether her small hands would massage them or not.

She radiated warmth, inside and out, and while he was very fond of feeling her tight little sheath envelop him in a perfect fit, he also enjoyed holding her small body in his arms, pressed to his chest, breathing in her lovely scent. And it didn't stop there, a smile, a look, a stolen glance across the classroom, and he felt at least five years younger when a strange sensation of heat gathered in his guts.

And somehow, he wanted more, wanted all of her.

One day, she was sitting on a shelf in his hidden hobby room and watched him whittle. She said she loved seeing him work with his hands, and while he knew she also loved having the same hands all over her body and his fingers knuckles deep in her cute little cunt, he also appreciated it when she observed him while he engaged in one of his other hobbies, apart from indulging her. He spent most of his free time sketching landscapes (or more recently her) or doing a little woodwork to keep his hands nimble (for her).

A little sigh escaped her, and he looked up at her, perched on the high ledge of the sturdy shelf, right next to one of those wooden dolls he sometimes made to gift (or scare) his colleagues. At least Abraham seemed to like them, while Mirabel seemed utterly scared by them. And his young lover certainly enjoyed their company too. He'd often catch her re-arranging them behind his back, telling him they must have moved on their own, and to be fair, sometimes he did think they had a mind of their own.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?” he asked and put the tools down, patiently smiling up at her.

“Yes, everything's fine,” she said quietly as she shifted on the shelf, her feet dangling off. He noticed that her skirt had ridden up slightly and her blouse was halfway unbuttoned, and by the way she pressed her thighs together, he knew everything was definitely not fine. A knowing smile grazed his lips.

He stood up with a groan, straightened the old bones, and walked closer to her. At his height, his eye level was right between her legs, and he didn't hesitate to push them apart to stand closer to her. Inhaling deeply to take in her scent, and oh the sweet scent she was emanating, he quickly found the cause of it too: she wasn't wearing any underwear. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and watched him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Her hands found his head, fingers caressing his hairline and scalp, and he tilted it to look up at her.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered gravelly, wiping sawdust from his hands before he hooked his arms around her legs to caress her soft thighs.

She licked her lips, a shy blush blooming on her cheeks. “I...”

“Use your words, darling.”

His deep voice caused her to shiver, and he felt the goosebumps as they rippled over her bare skin. While she still struggled to tell him what she needed (even though he already knew it quite well, but he liked to tease her a little every now and then), he leaned his cheek against the inside of her thigh, his beard rubbing against her flesh, and she keened softly.

He eyed her closely, patiently. When she finally spoke, her words made him shiver for a change.

“I want you to taste me,” she whispered, holding his gaze, and he saw that her pupils were blown with lust.

Giving her a warm smile, he turned his head and pressed his lips to her inner thigh. Then once more, and again, kiss after kiss until he reached her heat, and how warm she was. Warm and wet. His good little girl. He kept his hands on her legs, holding them open while he leaned closer, his eyes still on her flushed face as he took a deep breath, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils. She shuddered visibly, biting her lip in a way that was both cute and sensual, which she knew drove him crazy.

Breathing a little rougher against her sensitive skin, he planted soft kisses along her lower stomach, moved back to her thighs, teased her by slowly inching closer to her folds. He took his sweet time, leaving a trail of fire along her soft flesh, and while she was squirming slightly on the shelf, growing impatient, he smirked to himself before he put his mouth to the hidden little bundle of nerves – and she gasped and jerked her hips against him.

He held her in a tight grip while he flicked his tongue up and down her nub, feeling it throb against him, while her wetness gathered between her folds. She had her hands on her mouth to muffle her noises, and he only needed to throw her a dark glance, tsking into her heat, and she lowered them, face fully flushed, lips quivering.

Leaning back only a little, he rasped: “I want to hear you, sweetheart.”

She nodded obediently, grabbing the edges of the shelf instead to steady herself. Her arms were shaking. Smiling at her, he focused back on her pretty little pussy. Kissing her mound, he returned to her clit, gently licking it, nibbling on it, and when he pulled it between his lips, she squeaked and squirmed in his hold, her thighs twitching against him.

More mewls escaped her when he started lapping along her lower lips, gathering her wetness on his tongue, tasting her, and he closed his eyes when he took it all in, her scent, her warmth, that sweet, sweet taste. He seldom indulged her like this, eating her out was not the best on his sore joints and muscles, his stiff leg always getting in the way of his enjoyment, but she sometimes found positions to make it easier for him.

He continued moving his tongue through her slit, parting those soft lips, nibbling on them, pulling them into his mouth, while she whimpered softly, her body twitching slightly. When he rubbed his stubbled chin against her soft skin, she gasped and let out a sweet little moan, and his eyes flew open as he watched her arch her head back, neck exposed, hair falling over her shoulders, eyes rolling back in delight.

She loved having his beard all over her, the sound alone, she said, could drive her right over the edge, and she would sometimes just move her fingers over his rough cheeks and mewl quietly while doing so. So he indulged her and scraped his chin along her inner thighs before pressing it to her clit and slowly shaking and nodding his head, feeling the convulsions before the moans left her pretty mouth.

He watched her closely, taking in every single reaction to his ministrations. She was close, he could tell, shivers and shudders and goosebumps rolling over her limbs, and instead of teasing her further, he returned his mouth to her clit, giving it a few hard sucks, and she unravelled right in front of him, shrieking softly when she came. He put his mouth to her folds and lapped at her wetness, gulping it down like a man parched, his tongue moving between her lips and dipping into her quivering cunt, her contractions clenching around the soft muscle as he pushed it deeper into her.

She moaned louder, the feeling of his stubble must be overwhelming for her as he pressed his face to her heat, his hands tightening around her legs as she started convulsing on the shelf. She came again, her noises echoing through the small room, filling his ears as much as her taste filled his mouth. He licked up her slick with long broad strokes, from her clenching hole to her throbbing clit, his own deep groans vibrating through her core, adding to the sensation he was sure.

Her hands gripped his hair then as she bucked her hips against his face, mewling and moaning, barely able to contain herself. He held her in his iron grip, fingers digging into her soft thighs, possibly leaving bruises at this point, but he kept going, addicted to her taste, to her juices, and she was very generous tonight.

Eventually he slowed his ministrations, gently kissing her puffy lips, giving her clit one last lick, before he leaned back, loosening his arms around her legs to bring one hand to her mound, softly rubbing it to calm her.

She was a quietly whimpering mess, her lips parted and quivering, her eyes hooded and exhausted as she finally came down from the highs he had given her. He grabbed her waist and lifted her off the shelf, gently cradling her in his arms as she leaned her head against his shoulder and smiled contently.

“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely.

He smiled back and brought his wet lips to hers, and despite her spent state, she grabbed his face and returned the kiss in full, tasting herself in his mouth as her tongue slipped between his lips to meet his own. He carried her to the table and sat her down gently, still glued to her mouth, savouring her sweet taste, before he leaned back and sighed deeply. Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he hummed softly and whispered: “No, thank you.”

She watched him with her cheeks burning when he returned to his woodworking, feeling rejuvenated and ready to take on anything.

Like with any good, fulfilling beverage, he soon felt its effect dwindling, and after a couple of days, he was lying in bed, cuddled up to his young lover, and felt every sore muscle and strain and ache almost tenfold. He could barely move, and even though he never told her that he was in pain, she seemed to notice it nonetheless and tried her best to keep his body as relaxed as possible.

Right now, she had her small hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it expertly while she planted soft kisses on his broad chest, and he just lay on his back, not even able to raise a hand to return her touches. Clenching his jaw, he watched her, his eyes roaming her beautiful body, every curve and bump and hollow, taking it all in, how her breasts moved with every deep intake of air, how goosebumps rippled over her skin when he would hum or groan under the surprisingly strong grip of her hand.

He felt his stomach tighten when she moved her little mouth to nibble on the bulging veins on his shaft, her warm tongue lapping at his hot skin, cooling and warming it simultaneously. His breaths quickened, and he closed his eyes when he felt her lips closing around his tip, gently sucking on it, her tongue flicking against his slit.

Slowly he moved his hand up, his arm shaking slightly, and put it on her thigh, fingers closing around it almost fully. She leaned back and met his hooded gaze, licking her lips. Her eyes were warm and kind, a soft smile grazing that full, wet mouth. He tilted his chin up, giving her a little nod, and she crawled towards him and kissed his cheek, watching him closely, careful not to put any weight on him.

“Tell me what to do,” she whispered, her fingers rubbing along his stubbled jaw.

“I need to taste you again,” he said gruffly, his voice hoarse and strained.

She looked a little conflicted, wondering what to do. He wasn't capable of moving much, and she knew that. He was also about to ask something of her they had never done before, but he knew she wouldn't shy away from it, she was usually very open with trying anything new with him. She was a great student, and he had taught her well.

“Sit on my face,” he said bluntly and noticed how her eyes widened.

“Are you sure? Won't that hurt you?” she whispered, biting her lip.

“It'll be fine,” he rasped.

“H-how do you w-want me to... sit?” she asked quietly, her voice shaking.

He fought the strain in his arms and raised them to place his hands on her waist and guide her towards him. “Sit on my chest, then lean on your knees, facing the headboard. Grab it if you like, to keep your balance.”

She hesitated, but then slowly did as he told her, swinging her leg over him and positioned her knees on either side of his head, her expression still uncertain. Without him mentioning it, she kept her entire weight off him as she leaned on her knees, her beautiful cunt hovering right over his mouth. Her scent was intoxicating. His eyes roamed every inch of her sex, and by the way she squirmed, her legs trembling, he knew she was a little uncomfortable with him staring at her like that.

“You're beautiful,” he told her, his eyes moving up to meet hers. She leaned back slightly to be able to see him, a shy smile grazing her lips. His hands rested on the curve of her rear, gently pulling her closer, and she strained her thighs and followed the hint, gently pressing her folds to his face. A surprised mewl escaped her when his beard rubbed against her soft skin. He inhaled deeply, feeling her shuddering on top of him as he did so.

Pulling her even closer so he wouldn't have to strain his neck, he pressed his lips to her labia before his tongue darted out and licked along her slit. Her taste immediately filled his mouth, her little whimpers filled his ears, and when he closed his eyes, he lost himself in her completely. Lapping at the wetness gathering between her folds, he felt his body relaxing beneath her, his sore muscles warming, and he was able to really grip her plump arse cheeks, kneading them as he sucked and nibbled on her soft lips, pulling them between his teeth and into his mouth, coaxing all the sweet sounds out of her throat.

While he laved her wet skin, his nose kept brushing against her clit, and instinctively or not, she writhed against him, moving lower until he was able to give that sensitive bundle of nerves the same treatment as her folds. She moaned when he sucked on it, his tongue flicking against it, rolling it, and the more he abused her little nub, the more wetness seeped against his chin.

She was still only hovering above him, straining her thighs, her arms outstretched to hold onto the headboard to steady herself. Always so considerate of him. He adored her for it, but he needed her to really engage here, so he could really engage her.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” he hummed against her clit, licking it gently. She squirmed and moaned quietly, tensing on top of him.

“I don't want to hurt you,” she managed to croak out between breaths.

“You won't,” he assured her, his hand tightening around her bum to push her down on him. She still fought it, shuddering under the exertion. “Come on, darling, indulge me.”

She let out a shuddering breath, then slowly lowered herself. It wasn't that she weighed a lot, she barely weighed anything in his eyes, she was just a soft little creature made of sunshine and smiles after all, but when she finally sat down on his face, he felt it. Her lower lips parted around his mouth, and she shivered when his beard rubbed against her sensitive skin. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with her scent, feeling dizzy for a moment, a sensation that wasn't unpleasant at all, before he let his tongue dart out and lap at her soft skin, her wetness basically seeping into his mouth now.

His grunt against her sex made her squeak softly, and she seemed to really force herself not to move against him, still afraid she might hurt or suffocate him. But he had never felt better. He kissed and licked her inner folds, his tongue teasingly dipping into her clenching hole while his nose rubbed against her clit. Her mewls shuddered through her entire body, and he closed his eyes and pushed deeper, his tongue pressing past her entrance, licking at her soft walls.

She started twitching, her noises tumbling out of her uncontrollably, her wetness gathering on his tongue and his lips, and he barely managed to lap it all up before she gave him more. His fingers dug into her soft bum cheeks, teasing along the cleft between them, before he moved them back and hooked his arms around her thighs, holding her open as she started to clamp her legs together in anticipation of her approaching release.

Her arms fell from the headboard and rested next to his head, fingers clawing at the bedsheets, as her hips bucked against his face, and despite never having done this before, she was as usual a quick learner and despite her initial inhibitions not too shy to engage as well instead of letting him do all the work. While he lapped at her folds, sucking and nibbling, drinking up her juices, his groans mixing with muffled slurping and squelching sounds, she slowly gyrated her pelvis against his face, her moans so soft they soothed the aches in his body almost as much as her wetness running down his throat.

He felt light-headed, nearly delirious when her taste and scent took over everything else, and when her movements on top of him grew harder and faster, he let her ride it out, use his face to get her where she wanted to go, and all he could do was lap up her juices, his tongue alternating between stimulating her clit and dipping into her clenching cunt.

The moment stretched forever, and frankly, he could have lived in it for just as long, but then she gasped, spasmed, and cried out loudly as she forced her heat firmer against his mouth, really suffocating him now, before she arched her back and lifted herself only slightly, allowing him to breathe and get a perfect view of how she came undone right on top of him.

Her clit throbbed visibly, her glistening pussy fluttering, and before she could shower him in her juices, he had pressed her heat against his mouth, holding her closely as she convulsed against him, mewls and moans slipping from her, and he lapped and slurped up every single drop she gave him. She collapsed on top of him, spent and limp, her body heavy on his face, but he felt the effect immediately as her warmth filled his stomach.

Using his elbows to push himself up, he rolled her around, carefully placing her down before he grabbed her thighs and dove between them once more, the soreness of his body gone almost completely. He knew it wouldn't last long, but he wanted to make the best of it. She was sprawled on the bed, arms beside her head, legs twitching, chest heaving with her small breasts quivering, nipples perked up, while he lapped and nibbled at her folds, bent over her small frame.

Her taste was addictive, all-consuming, clouding his mind. He had no idea for how long he had licked her quivering cunt, but when a soft hand dug into his hair, he looked up, his dark eyes glazed over, and saw her watching him, her face flushed, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, her lips trembling. He leaned back reluctantly, but then he noticed how red and puffy her sensitive skin looked, and he could have kicked himself for not seeing it earlier. He had licked her raw.

Giving her mound a soft peck, he crawled up her body, caging her in on his hands and knees, while he looked down at her, licking his moist lips. Her small hands moved up and rubbed his cheeks, wiping her wetness from his face before she pulled him closer and kissed him softly. He shared her taste with her and breathed deeply into her mouth, slowly coming down from the high she had given him. She was dangerously intoxicating. She was his drug.

He rolled off her then, still kissing her softly, pulling her soft body against his while his hand moved along her sides until he dipped it between her thighs. Her skin was burning, radiating heat against his palm, and she winced when he touched her, but didn't fight it when he caressed her mound carefully, hoping his calloused fingers wouldn't make it worse. But her body adjusted by making her wet again, coating his fingers and her oversensitive skin.

She was a miracle.

Sighing contently, he released her mouth for a moment, looking deep into her eyes, almost getting lost in the softness of her gaze. His fingers dipped between her folds, teasing at her entrance, and she mewled quietly, her hands rubbing over his stubbled cheeks, and he could see how much the sound and his ministrations affected her as her eyes rolled back and her lips trembled and her body shuddered in nothing but bliss.

He swallowed her moans by claiming her mouth once more, pushing his tongue deep into it at the same time as he pushed two fingers into her warmth, the wet squelching sound like music in his ears. She bucked against him while he pumped his digits in and out of her, harder and faster and deeper, and when her walls clenched around him, she cried out against his lips, her thighs pressing around his hand as he stroked her through her orgasm.

It took him everything not to lean down again and lap at her juices, instead he let her wetness coat his fingers while he kissed her softly as she spasmed against him. When she relaxed in his hold, he continued to massage her soft flesh and watched her melting into the bed. Pulling his free arm around her, he held her close to his chest, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, her breaths deep and soft before she slipped into unconsciousness.

His fingers remained buried inside her heat, and he was tempted to continue his ministrations, maybe even indulge in something more, use her willing body for his own release, but he refrained, ignoring the throbbing of his cock. Kissing her sweaty forehead, he snuggled against her, holding her in his arm and her cunt with his hand as he soaked his fingers in her wetness. Inhaling deeply to take in as much of her scent as possible, he closed his eyes and leaned into the warmth that radiated from her tiny body.

He might have stiff fingers and a sore wrist tomorrow, but he didn't dare to disconnect from her, from her warmth and those delicious juices, from her well of youth. He felt it rushing through his veins, like liquid fire warming his sore muscles and the aches of his battered body.

It was truly addictive.

End notes: Initially I was hesitant to write this, because I couldn't quite see Daddy Sharp here engaging in oral sex like that... but I guess, in the right positions, sure, why not! And I mean, the beard is an added bonus to that, so who wouldn't like that? XD

You know, I was never into the whole Daddy/little girl kink, I accepted it, I read smut with it, ofc, but I never felt anything but slight cringe for it... but this man, dude, why does it work so well with him? (I still refuse to let my protagonists call him Daddy though, nope, but the dynamic is growing on me!)

So, thank you for reading whatever this was! And thanks again for the request! It was really fun! (Give me more, please!)

MORE SHARP SMUT:

Scars

Peace and Comfort

A Demonstration of Power and Support

A Demonstration of Pride and Pain

[ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp smut #aesop sharp x mc #hogwarts legacy smut #professor sharp #professor sharp smut #professor sharp x mc #professor aesop sharp #fluff #smut #mysmut #daddy sharp

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naamahdarling · 5 months

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Do you have a favorite musical?

If so, what are your favorite lyrics from it, and why?

ALW's CATS.

Is it a surreal mess? Yes! But I love it before everything else.

The lyrics are silly but very clever. Most are at least partly by TS Eliot, drawn from a wonderfully nonsensical book of poems.

I think my favorite song is the Invitation to the Jellicle Ball, neck and neck with Mr Mistoffelees.

My favorite cat is Mistoffelees by a lot, followed by the Rum Tum Tugger. They are in love.

But the part that makes me feel the most in my heart is Grizabella. The only cat I relate to is Grizabella.

Memory is the big number that everyone knows and I do absolutely love it, it's one of my favorite songs and probably the best in the musical as it was before CATS 2019 introduced a new song, but I feel that out of context it simply doesn't have punch. It gets trotted out to showcase a singer's skill, as a bit of a tearjerker if you're a sentimental person. It is so much more than that.

I didn't understand Grizabella properly until I was well and truly an adult and had taken in multiple cats off the street, and lived near a colony, and watched my own cats become frail, which are all painful things in many ways; AND until I had begun to really feel the weight of my marginalization as a disabled person and an ill person, which means confronting almost daily the fact that I am unlikely to come to the sort of end I would like.

Hold on because I'm going to be unhinged about this cat for a minute.

Grizabella is an aged stray, once welcomed, now abandoned and unloved, considered ugly even by others like her (who are shown to supposedly accept differences and value, or at least respect, most everyone...but not her).

She lives in a haunted, lonely state unacknowledged by anyone except to be driven away. She can no longer care for herself, she is filthy and matted and scarred and probably in a lot of pain, she is starving, and she has nothing but her memories of better times, and every single dawn is both a gift and a miserable curse. She gets to remember. She has to remember.

If you watch, Grizabella is onstage a LOT, she's just off in the background, usually poorly lit, where she tries to mirror the dances happening on the main part of the stage, dances she knows because that was once her, there in the spotlight, shining. But now she's in too much pain to dance and her body isn't working right anymore. I have no doubt Grizabella is dying. The question is whether she will get to do that well, comforted and with dignity, or do it badly and alone.

I cannot HANDLE Grizabella.

If you have even the tiniest inkling of love for cats, if you believe every cat's life is worth something, her story should destroy you.

The legendary Jennifer Hudson's performance in the movie brought a really angry and confrontational turn to her, and it was flat out amazing. A rebuke of a performance. It really hurts to watch but it's what the role has always needed. She isn't just weak and sad, she clings to the tatters of her dignity and is angry that the others don't see her as a whole person. Just a miserable shadow to be avoided. A cautionary tale. We are never told what terrible thing she did to deserve her fall, and given that most of the Jellicles are young, I don't know that any of them really remember.

I will physically fight anyone who says she should not have been selected to ascend to a new life. She was the only choice. Even Gus. Even him. He can have his turn next year. Grizabella does not have another year in her.

And I'm going to make some folks mad but I love the 2019 movie (it's bad) and the new song, Beautiful Ghosts, is amazing, and I DO prefer Taylor Swift's version as the movie version is a little more timid (fitting the role and musical way better) but TS fucking BELTS IT and I get chills every time.

The lyrics are incredible and the song is gorgeous, gorgeous. And strung together with Grizabella's song, it finishes the musical in a way that it was a bit unfinished before. It uses an actual full song to connect Grizabella to the Ball and the Choice more directly than any choreography ever did or could:

Victoria, the White Cat and viewpoint character, still almost a kitten, has been dumped in the street and into a terrifying and beautiful new life.

After being swept up into its wonder, she sees Grizabella, utterly rejected, hissed at, made fun of, despised, and aches with the injustice of it -- Victoria was snatched right up by the other cats the instant her paws hit the ground, but nobody will take in Grizabella. Not even her own kind.

Victoria sees how strangely similar they are and feels a kinship that has no pity in it at all, but wonder and respect.

So Victoria sings this new song expressing the first admiration Grizabella has heard in god alone knows how long, reminding her she has had an amazing life worth envy and renown, and she pulls this horrible decrepit old mess of a cat into the Jellicle Ball, where she is FINALLY relieved of her pain.

Like? I'm crying right now?

It isn't a serious musical, but Grizabella's story runs through it like a cold current, something real and terrible, surrounded by absolute ridiculousness. Her numbers are deadly serious, never played for laughs. And ultimately it is her story that turns out to be the most important one, the truest one, and it is dark, and it is hopeful but only in only the most painful and grief-stricken way. She isn't brought back into a comfortable life with other cats to be happy and surrounded by love. She essentially...dies and goes to cat heaven. She embodies hope itself to the others, and her ascension represents a deeply humbling lesson in humility and grace. Her suffering and her ascent represent the possible future of every one of them, and now they have to confront that, and their treatment of her. She was rewarded, and for all their beauty and charm they were not.

Anyway I'm not normal about it.

The lyrics from Beautiful Ghosts that I love are:

Perilous night, their voices calling. A flicker of light, before the dawning. Out here the wild ones are taming the fear within me. Scared to call them my friends and be broken again. Is this hope just a mystical dream?

and

And so maybe my home Isn't what I had known, what I thought it would be. But I feel so alive With these phantoms of night, and I know that this life isn't safe but it's wild and it's free!

Like, come on. It's a lovely song and it took my breath away in the theater.

Ugh this musical touched me as a feral cat girl of 10 and it touches me again as a sad catguy in their 40s. Truly a very stupid work of weirdly meaningful art and one for the ages.

There are much better musicals, but none of them are part of me.

#cats the musical #grizabella

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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 10 months

Text

You're waiting for a train...(6)

Conscience Makes Cowards of us All

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Arthur is an unwelcome presence in y/n's subconscious.

warnings - SA, implied explicit content, killing/death (in the case of waking up from a dream), Arthur being a dick because his ego is bruised, explicit language.

word count - 1.9k

a/n - More of y/n's past is revealed! Also Arthur is such a dick in this, i'm sorry if you like him but I needed him to be this for the plot!

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*Arthurs pov*

My eyes shot open. I paced around taking in the expanse of the beautiful hotel lobby. It was decorated to be art deco and the murky dimly lit atmosphere with red and gold accents encapsulated her essence. The silence unnerved me. A mind like hers should be bustling like that of any young adult. Instead, it appeared she’d harnessed her subconscious and molded it to her liking.

My gaze was dragged towards an elevator which loomed at the very end of the seemingly never-ending hallway. I doubted my moves. I was walking into her home. No, it was more personal than that. I was invading her soul. She would hate me after this, and I wouldn’t blame her. The years of trust we’d built up would shatter in the face of my curiousity. But the seconds passing showed my body betraying me.

I entered the gold dusted box and the harsh metal rail dragged in front of me. My hand drifted to the marble buttons that climbed up the panel in front of me. “1, 2, 3.” Standard. My breath caught seeing the numbers decrease even further. What has she buried?

1,2,3. 1,2,3. If this was the girl I knew, she’s been logical and organised by memories; early to present. I pressed 3 without a second thought. It rumbled to life and a creaking industrial might rose me up into her mind.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The cage erupted out to reveal me to the third floor of this apparent hotel. The décor was neat and tidy, and the sage green accents gave it a fresh feel. I exited as I felt drawn into the hall.

Each side was home to bright white doors which held different hotel room numbers. How fitting, a hotel full of rooms and a room for each memory. Each room had an imperceptible buzx radiating behind it. As if the pure thoughts were fizzing in their own creation. But there was one.

‘301’ Burned like fire. I could sense the burst of life behind the door, that I found myself drawing closer. Numbing voices chatted behind the wood. And the shadows of two danced through the cracks of light. I placed my hand near the handle and felt the burning sweetness I associate with y/n’s dream state. She was here. I hesitated. She can’t see me here. Any semblance of relationship with her would be gone. But then I heard something else. A new voice. Mingling with her velvety tones. I grasped the brass handle and ripped it open. There I was greeted with my y/n lying in a bed with our mark.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

I jumped away from the projection as the room door was yanked open. I scrambled away amongst the sheets, dragging them up to cover ourselves. Arthur stood stock still in the doorway and the look in his eyes could have brought me to tears right there. His eyes raked over our bedraggled forms, taking in the thin sheets we put a lot of trust in. I sat up on the bed whilst Robert kneeled behind, holding me in his arms. I stroked my fingers over his arms. I felt him tense up. This was my dream, and he was my protector.

Arthur let out a humourless laugh, dripping in spite.

“Why did I expect anything less.” He spat at me, crudely gesturing between the two of us. As the tears welled up in my eyes Robert flicked to the defensive and stalked towards Arthur. In a blind panic, I threw on my red dress, foregoing any shoes.

Arthur moved forward, readying his fists.

“NO!” I shouted, halting the two men.

“Stay out of this!” Arthur snapped. His anger being directed towards me unleashed something in Robert’s projection and he lunged forward.

I slipped in the middle and separated the two brawling men. I shoved Arthur past the door threshold. I then took Roberts face in my hands and stroked my fingers through the hairs at his neck. I cooed at him, calming him down. His fingers curled around my waist, caressing my sides. Arthur looked on at us, betrayed.

When I felt he had been soothed enough and his eyes fell close. I pushed him away and sprinted out the door. When I slammed it shut I felt his body crash into it. Banging repeatedly, begging for me to let him out. I composed myself. My hand still clasped around the handle, my breath the only noise.

Eventually I released and let my body fall back onto the door behind me. I sank into the carpet and my gaze tracked to the ceiling. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Arthur. Couldn’t bear to wallow in his disappointed gaze.

“You have to do that every time?” Arthur finally spoke.

My eyes remained firmly on the door, as if daring it to break. “He can get antsy when I leave.”

“You mean the projection.”

“Of course.” I mumbled sadly.

“I actually can’t believe you!” Arthur laughed out. “You are smarter than this.” I let a few tears drop at his admonishment. “Well, I thought you were.” He said dismissively.

“Woah.” I rose up from the floor. “you wanna say that again, whilst standing here in my own dream, that you are not welcome in.”

“Your lipstick’s smudged.” He brushed my messy lips before I swatted away his teasing hand. He smirked. I slapped him.

“It’s just – he – I don’t know he just – “ I began to lose control of my body and my breaths wouldn’t stop leaving.

“What? WHAT?” Arthur stalked towards me to tower over my face. I could feel the spit leaving his shouts. I burst from my cowering.

“IT WAS SOMETHING NEW.” We remained staring at one another. “I looked at him and it was like everything in here made sense.” I tapped my fingers against my head.

“What made sense? What have you locked in here?” He looked at me so seriously that it was oppressive. I giggled and second guessed my decision as I made it. But I still grabbed his hand and led him back to the elevator. We both entered and I pressed the button.

Gravity fell from beneath us to drag us down into the depths. If Arthur wanted to know then he would.

It clanged as it reached the bottom. I could feel the weight of the air down here. I was suffocating on my own dream. The metal gate opened with a hesitation, willing us not to go further. I stepped out into the murky hallway. My bare feet froze on each step on the concrete floor. Arthur followed hesitantly, unnerved by my own confidence in such an unwelcome place. I hurried my pace until I met the end room. My red dress became the beacon of light for Arthur to follow. My silhouette engulfed by the cracking black paint.

I finally felt Arthur’s presence behind me and so I took out my ring of keys. It held many keys but only one stood out. It was as ornate as it was old, and it’s heaviness weighed down the whole set. I placed it in the door to unlock it for our eyes. The door trudged open with an audible creak. A hotel room was revealed, as was me and another man.

*the memory dream*

“I know who you are,” The man spoke. “And I know why you’re here.”

“I think you must be mistaken.” I tried to sneak past his form but he caught me in his arms.

“No no no. You’re not getting away that easily you little thief.” His dirty hands groped my sides and hiked up my dress. His calloused fingers crunched the skin of my thighs.

As I watched, I felt the movements repeated on my own skin, and all I could do was match the look of terror on my past face.

He got closer to my core and his other hand had found its place tightly holding my boobs. My form panicked and tried to wriggle out of his grip. It was too much; I could feel it too clearly. This was a dream but my pain had never felt so real. I elbowed his stomach and crawled away from him. Before he could consider a new move, I grabbed the gun from my holster and put a bullet through my head.

*back to Arthur and y/n*

Arthur jumped at the sound of the gun whilst I forced my eyes open.

“Killing just wakes you up, but pain is all in the mind.” I stated. “It may have just been a dream but I can still feel it, everyday.” Arthur placed his hand on my shoulder, questioning the move itself.

“That was not your fault.” He announced proudly. I turned in his arms to meet his sympathetic gaze. I giggled.

“That’s not why that memory is here. I shot myself, so I didn’t have to stay and finish the job.” I stalked towards him willing him to hear my words. “I buried my own cowardice.”

Arthur slowly backed away. He’d never seen this look in my eyes before and he couldn’t look at it again.

“Dad needs to know I can do this, more importantly, that I want to do this. My weakness helps neither of us.”

“Y/n, if Cobb had seen that, he would have made you wake up regardless.”

“And never let me come on a mission again, and I would have been alone. Again.” I walked back to the elevator and let my back rest on the cold metal. Arthur still hadn’t moved, his gaze on the dreaded door.

“Everything here is for my own good, and the good of the people I love.” He followed me and closed the gate behind us. “But it’s also mine. So get out.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The time on the dream ticked out, rousing us from our sleep. I ripped out the IV and threw together my stuff, ready to scram. I was halted by Arthur’s arms around me. He dragged me around to face him.

“Y/n listen to me. You’re compromised. You now have too much invested in this job and your judgement will be askew.” He stared me down as he spoke.

“You have no right to question my ability.” I argued.

“After what I just saw, you’re lucky I don’t rip you off this team right now.” He jerked his hands away from me, harshly rubbing my skin as he moved.

I pivoted away and let my feet march me away from him.

“Oh yeah,” He shouted, “What are you gonna do after? Go after Fischer and try and get yourself a cushy number.” I stopped in my tracks.

“No, actually.” I slowly turned back towards his smug face. “I thought I’d go home for the first time in 5 years.”

“Just don’t go meddling about in his mind with your own ideas.”

“Fuck you.” I forced out amongst the tears threatening to leave.

We were broken out when Eames, Saito, Ariadne, Yusuf and my dad entered the warehouse.

“Guys, Maurice Fischer just died 1 hour ago. They’re transporting the body from Sydney to LA tomorrow morning.” My dad announced, but he frowned when he sensed the tension.

“Well, I guess it’s time.” Arthur said, walking over to the others, ignoring my teary face.

I collected myself enough to leave with my dad so we could pack. We were packing to go home.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away

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quibbs126 · 5 months

Text

Okay, so I saw a post on Twitter a couple days ago by @leonisloresmith, where basically the idea is that the Ancients used to look different before they got their Soul Jams, and I liked the idea a lot. Cut to 24 hours later and it’s still on my mind, and so I’m like “screw it I’m stealing the idea” and so we got this

So yeah, pre-Soul Jam Ancients. I guess it’s sort of an AU, since as far as I can tell, in actual canon the Ancients have always looked the way they do

It’s only Hollyberry, Dark Cacao and Golden Cheese because they were the only ones I had thought about things for. I had drawn Pure Vanilla, but I realized that I wasn’t working with any real ideas, I was just drawing him for the sake of drawing them all, so I decided to just finish up these three for now and save Vanilla and Lily for another day

The original post didn’t specify changing the ingredients, but I wanted to because to be honest, there’s not a whole lot you can do to change their appearances while keeping their original names in my opinion. But I thought I should keep their core flavors similar, still being vanilla, berries, cacao/chocolate, cheese and flower (though I stuck with lilies to be consistent)

I have names for all of them, though tbh I’m still debating White Lily’s

Juniper Berry -> Hollyberry

Cacao Nib -> Dark Cacao

Cheese Dust -> Golden Cheese

Vanilla Bean -> Pure Vanilla

Wood Lily -> White Lily

It isn’t the names for the other two I’m particularly stuck on, rather it’s their backstories. Speaking of which, let’s get to what I have

So first, Juniper Berry. Juniper here I’m thinking came from a family that runs an inn or tavern, mostly just because of the whole berry juice thing. I imagine that despite the likely rowdy nature of her upbringing, it was a pretty good one. Truth be told that’s all I think I have to say on the matter, a lot less than I thought

I made her juniper berries because I wanted something in a different color, maybe something blue. And also because I randomly saw that juniper berries are apparently used in gin, and again, berry juice. I apologize to the Hollyberry fans, I really just focus on the berry juice aspect of her character when I know she has more going on. I was debating if I should make her skinnier, with the idea that she would have grown physically after getting her Soul Jam, but then I thought that’d be a really bad idea so I kept her as is. She can still be a strong girl and have Cacao be the one with the large physical change. Also I made her eyebrows round because that’s what Royal Berry has

Speaking of Cacao Nib, let’s get to him. So I imagine that Cacao grew up somewhere around the coast of the region and that generally, what family he had wasn’t very well off, and that he had to take on a lot of responsibility at a young age to help out. He’s also very small, even for his age. He also might be mute, or otherwise just very quiet

Okay this is one of my hyperfixation characters so I have more to say on him. I was struggling with his flavor since there’s not a lot you can do while keeping him cacao, but someone suggested to me cacao nibs and I went with that. As for his eyes, well they’re red because of Dark Choco. As for why the eye lines are dark, if you recall a previous post, I said I’m now headcanoning him as having some ancestry from the Licorice Tribe due to having sea salt in his dough (though not like his parents or anything, grandparents at least), and so I wanted to reference that here, as well as with his pin. It’s also why I’m putting him at the coast. Now granted, I recognize it makes more sense to make him related to the Coffee Tribe, with cacao having caffeine in it and his dilated pupil thing, but shush, let me do what I want. I wanted to make him the shortest so that basically, when he gets his Soul Jam, he magically shoots up to being the tallest, or maybe second tallest behind Hollyberry. Also him being short fits in with my headcanon that he’s the youngest Ancient

Next up and our final one for today, we have Cheese Dust. So Cheese was technically an orphan Cookie, but she was taken in and raised by a flock of Cheesebirds. She likes gold and shiny things, and also she does a lot of inventing, making small gadgets in her spare time, and trying to figure out if she can make functional wings for herself

I went with cheese dust for her because I think her original book description talked about cheese dust in it. And it sounds a little better than Cheese Powder to me. I know I made her eyes completely different than canon, but in part it was inspired by the other non-Golden Cheese Kingdom Cookies like Cheesecake and Roguefort, and also her eyes being triangle shaped in old concept art. And I just wanted to. The hair’s inspired by other pieces of concept art with her hair down, though I was struggling with what color to make it, eventually going with this. I wanted to make her the second shortest, being a bit taller than Cacao (though the difference is a lot smaller in the final picture), with the idea that while Cacao grows after getting her Soul Jam, she doesn’t, and so now she’s the shortest of the group

And I think that’s it for now, hopefully I’ll be able to get ideas for Vanilla and Lily done soon, I hope you find this enjoyable

#also disregard that I’ve used some of these names for previous fankids and OCs #I’m personally choosing to ignore that #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run au #pre soul jam ancients #hollyberry cookie #dark cacao cookie #golden cheese cookie #my art #what else do I tag this

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muraae · 13 days

Text

i’m sorry (but also really not) but this the vaultghoul poto au has me in a chokehold- and i don’t know if i’ll ever write or if someone else wants the challenge, but here are my thoughts on what the au could be.

a vaultghoul phantom of the opera au where cooper is the phantom and lucy is christine.

would have elements from both the book, musical, and the show.

cooper obviously looks like how he is in the show for his disfigurement, and wears a black half mask to cover the upper half of his- also kudos for this because coop does look exactly like erik (the phantom) in the book.

debating if cooper will be born deformed or someone or something causes him to be disfigured.

i personally like the latter more just to play with the idea of cooper once being a famous star within the opera house who befell a terrible incident that ruined his life and is now embittered and angry, wishing to exact vengeance against those that ruined his life.

only a slightish change, but ‘the ghoul’ is added along with ‘the phantom’ and ‘the opera ghost’ as his other aliases.

lucy is a ballet dancer in the opera, the daughter of the famous soprano, rose maclean. i’m not certain where hank would be for this au, but he’s not exactly in the family picture, but i would want him to cause some kind of conflict in the future.

slow down there abbie, we don’t have time to write a full story- let’s just stick to the basics.

lucy and norm come to live and work at the opera house under the care of moldaver (madame giry) after the death of their mother- lucy in the ballet corps. and norm with the stagehands.

lucy had always been a talented singer until she hears a voice in the halls, vents, and the grand stage she visits late at night, and starts starts teaching her that the managers begin to take notice.

cooper takes notice of lucy whenever she walls the grand stage late at night singing to herself. he becomes intrigued by her.

so cooper watches lucy from afar and doesn’t make himself known to her as the ‘voice’ until he finds her crying in the opera chapel, grieving for her mother after a long, trying day.

mother said, "When i'm in heaven, child, i will send the angel of music to you."

cooper commends her voice, but tells lucy it needs training. he offers her voice lessons, promising to help lucy become the greatest singer the world has seen- does it come at a cost later on for his own purposes- that it is for all to decide if lucy is a means to an end but ends up wrecking his plans by becoming more.

fuck i’m getting sidetracked again-

over the years the two develop a bond that extends the bounds of teacher and student, cooper’s infatuation with lucy becoming deeper.

steph is lucy’s roommate and friend- sharing the role of meg with norm- and she and norm are the only two who can put up with lucy’s disappearances and odd hours, though are concerned by the strange behavior.

cooper continues to reign the opera house as his domain, demanding the managers to follow his instructions on how the opera should run, and causes ‘accidents’ if anything doesn’t go his way.

on the night of the gala, lucy finds herself replacing the prima donna when the former falls ill. she is an overnight sensation and ensnares the hearts of half the city, and much to cooper’s jealous chagrin, catches the eye of the opera’s newest patron.

i’m tempted to make maximus raoul, however, monty would fit a little better- so we’re going with monty because i want this vicomte and his intentions towards the new starlet to be sinister. because fuck monty.

lucy is at first flattered by monty’s attention, but becomes soon after uncomfortable by his advances.

and though she is charmed by the young detective (maximus) that was hired by the managers to prove there is no opera ghost, she is still drawn to the mysterious voice.

on the night of her triumph, cooper reveals himself and takes lucy into the vast underground tunnels of the opera house. it is here where lucy becomes enamored by the man who has given her so much, but is confused why he wears the mask. Surely a face would match a voice as beautiful and deep as his.

it only takes removing a mask to change the course of a relationship and for the two of them to cross the point of no return.

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xmorguekittyx · 9 months

Text

Ever Unlocked

Part 1: Grey Skies and Blue Eyes

Part 2: Caution to the Wind

Officer!Leon Kennedy x Coroner’s Assistant!reader

warnings: none for this part!

i’m hoping to add more parts in the future, this will be a slow burn series and something’s have been changed to fit my story line!

this is my first real fic, i’m still new to this so plz be kind 🖤

Her head snapped up, black hair sliding down her lab coat covered shoulders, grey eyes training on the dark oak door to the Coroner’s Office. “Come in.”, her voice was soft and a little raspy from not having spoken much in the past few hours, or taking a sip of the water she’d let all the ice met from. Her eyes caught the blond fluff of hair, one she’d spent minutes watching. Her cheeks lighting up slightly from the thought. “Officer Kennedy.”, she greeted the young man, he was near her age, a fresh rookie from the academy, a nice mellow age of 21. “yes, ma’am.”, his boyish face lit up at her greeting, she was the only one to call him such, other officers just spoke to him as the rookie. which he was, he couldn’t complain but he did enjoy the formality, he loved his job, the career he had chosen and dedicated years to training for. “Do you have the autopsy report for a-“, his hands flipped open a case folder, his baby blues scanning the inked words, “Stacy McGrath?”, his brows furrowed, darkened by confusion. She couldn’t help but watch, her eyes drawn to the charm his boyish looks held, an air of innocence and eager willingness wrapped around his tanned skin.

“McGrath?”, her finger tapped at her chin, “didn’t she just come in yesterday, i’m not sure Rebecca got to her yet.”, her eyes filtered up to the god awful popcorn ceiling. “i can check really quick if you don’t mind the wait.”, she offered, her eyes meeting his. “yes, ma’am. i don’t mind at all, Chief Irons sent me to collect it, perhaps he hadn’t been informed she wasn’t seen yet.”, he rambled slightly, a nervous quiver to some of this words, his hand brushing his blonde locks back. “perhaps not, Rebecca called out today. She would’ve done it today or i could’ve but it’s been so backlogged today.”, she sighed, eyes drooping in an expressive way, lips curved down. “i heard we’ve gotten an increase in bodies.”, she could hear his tone become sympathetic, the rustling of his jacket sounding out as he shifted closer to her. “must be hard on you and her.”, his hand brushed her desk, her own brushing against the set of Ms, “i’m not seeing a report on her, i don’t think we got to her yet.”, she curled her fingers, “i’m so sorry, Officer Kennedy, maybe- could you come back tomorrow?”, it was already so late, Kitty could only finish typing her latest report.

“tomorrow.”, his head tilted into a slight nod, lips stretched into a shy smile. “i can come back tomorrow.”, his legs shifted, moving his weight from the desk to stand erectly. a tiny roll of his shoulders, alleviating some knot in his muscles. hand reached back over his shoulder to touch the aching spot. “hey.”, his eyes lit up, looking down at the girl, “it’s pretty late, when we’re you going to leave?”, his eyes were expressive. waiting expectantly for her answer. “probably around 11, i was just going to finish typing out this and then head out.”, she whispered, hands held in front of her, clasped together and wringing. “can i wait for you? i’d like to walk you out. Can’t let a pretty girl get blown away in the wind.”, his lips were parted in a cheesy smile, his eyes half lidded aimed at her.

———

She couldn’t focus on anything but him in the remaining hour, his little taps, boots hitting the floor in some tempo only he could hear. She’d told the officer that she would need to finish up her report before heading out into the storming weather and thus to her car and then the shitty apartment she had the joy of calling a home.

her eyes couldn’t help but flicker to the man, his chin down to his chest, his radio poking into his tanned skin as he crossed his arms over his RPD vest. his face tilted to her, unbeknownst to her he had fallen asleep watching her, he had been going on about “i can’t leave a woman to walk to her car this late at night alone.”, “what kind of man would i be if i didn’t offer to walk you to your car?”. it had made her giggle, her eyes crinkling as she let the airy sound fall from her lips.

now she sat, having been done with the report near 20 minutes ago. she didn’t want to wake the man yet, he had stayed later than he needed to just for her. the soft ticking of the clock was near drowned completely out as she watched his unconscious face, her eyes ghosting past the blonde locks that brushed his forehead. the lashes that sprouted from his closed eyes, the bridge of his nose down to his plump small lips and cleft chin. she felt a bit creepy- what if he woke up and thought she was some creep or something? she wanted to see those baby blues once more, to be stunned into the awkward mindset, afraid to move or speak in front of him.

thunder rolled, more so than it had earlier, Raccoon City was under a severe thunderstorm warning, a tornado watch and a flood warning. Leon didn’t want her to be caught in it alone, at least, if he was there with her, he could make sure she got where she needed to be safely, if she didn’t feel comfortable driving in such severe weather he was willing to drive her home. willing to do whatever she was going to ask. His eyes cracked open, during a particularly loud crack of lightening, one that lit up Kitty’s form, his hazy eyes catching hers on him. “oh-“, his arms tensed, stretching in that crossed position across his chest. “i didn’t mean to fall asleep, i’m very sorry.”, his gaze catching her, still in that propped up position at her desk. “you’re okay, i just didn’t want to ruin that beauty sleep.”, her tone playful and soft, eyes squinting as she smiled. “beauty sleep?”, his lips pulled back into an amused smile, eyes looking away from her. she would be able to pull that kind of expression from him. “i needed it.”, he nodded, legs stretching out, boots thudding against the wood flooring. “you done yet?”, his eyes moved to the black computer screen. “been done, actually.”, she admitted with a sheepish look, her hand rubbing up her opposite arm, the fabric bunching up at her hand. “like i said, i didn’t want to wake you up.”, she whispered, a content look to her, his presence was warm, despite the cold air of the police station.

“you should’ve-“, he was cut off by another loud strike of lightening. “seems like it’s gotten worse out there.”, his eyes danced across the dark office, to the window that illuminated with the remanence of the lightening. “under a few warnings.”, she informed, eyes on her now lit up phone screen. “we should probably go before it gets worse… i hope my breaks are good enough to work during this.”, she muttered, seemingly annoyed at the storm for stressing her drive home. “i could always take you home.”, Leon’s words left his lips before he could think about them. he wanted to make sure she was safe and it would give them more time… more time without the other officers or Rebecca interfering.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil 2 #re2 leon #re2 leon kennedy #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #officer leon kennedy

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exstasyplague · 9 months

Text

My analysis/view on SatoSugu ☆

Some disclaimers: I am a fanfic author and I do personally ship the two yet I will try to keep my thoughts as objective as possible for the sake of this post. I will include my perosnal points of view as well but 'll keep them separated from the "canon facts." Contains manga spoilers.

Are they gay?

This is a funny question yet it's the best way to start in my opinion. Short answer: they don't fit inside a label. I think the best word to describe their bond is intimate. Emotionally, it's at a place in the middle of love and appreciation and I don't think this balance is constant, sometimes it might have leaned more to one side, sometimes more to another. From an emotional point of view, they could very well be in a platonic situation.

The physical aspect is not a detrimental side for either of them in regards to one another. What makes their connection so special is the fact that it happened before Gojo Satoru became officially the strongest, before he was burdened with so many things. However, he was never free. The beginning of his very existence caused a deep disturbance within the Jujutsu world. For Satoru there was never a childhood, there was never a normal life, only a path of emptiness.

Gege is good at making his characters. Especially the villains/ good guys parallels. Just how Yuji came to the realization that he is Mahito and Mahito is him, the same parallel is drawn between Gojo and Sukuna, only Sukuna is what Gojo would've been without Geto. Both the strongest sorcerers, the difference is that Satoru got surrounded by love and his mentality evolved from "the weak ones are pathetic, I don't want to look after them" to "I will push everybody up along with me through teaching and have pupils even stronger than me, allies."

Back in highschool, Gojo was young and somewhat arrogant. His power was like a blanket for him; despite not understanding Geto's philosophical things and not agreeing with them, Gojo also, unintentionally, gave a meaning to the things happening to him "I am the strongest."

Even in the current ongoing fight (Sukuna vs Goatjo), the panels sometimes speak about love, but not in the way we would normally think; it's about the feelings of the strongest, different from the perception of average folks like us. Nurture vs Destruction.

Gojo had the power of being evil without any repercussions. Being the strongest, nothing could hurt him. He always showed his compassion towards Riko through small gestures, such as staying more at the beach, teasing her etc. Him wanting to go on a killing rampage under the pretext of 'not feeling anything' was Gojo's way of showing his disgust at the fact that hundreds of people were celebrating the death of an innocent girl. Being the strongest didn't matter. She was dead.His conviction shattered. However, he had so much trust in Geto's morality and mentality that he followed his advice. That is the kind of person he was for him. Even in Jjk 0, Suguru said that he didn't think Satoru would have any trust left for him— he did.

The only one who could understand him, speak with him, treat him like a human. His one and only. Gojo liked the fact that they were the strongest together because he also had someone to lean on.

In the manga, Naoya, the head of a powerful branch of the Zen'in clan talks about Toji. He said that as a child, he expected him to be a miserable man since he had 0 cursed energy yet when he saw how powerful and proud he was he got scared of him. He mentions that the only one being able to understand Toji was Gojo.

Only... Gojo is stronger. Toji couldn't understand him, he called him a monster. He got drowned in petty feelings characteristic to what Sukuna would call weakness and got himself killed.

Gege also mentioned in an interview that he wanted to give his characters abilities similar to Bankai (Gege legit started making manga because of Bleach, what a God) Bankai is a reflection of the soul in Bleach projected onto the swords of the Shinigami. Same with Domain Expansions in JJK. Gojo's literally repels everybody around him, it's called Infinite Void and it shows the way in which he looks at the world and views himself. Untouchable. Out of reach. An overflow of information.

Even if Bleach is a pretty stereotypical Shonen creation (don't get me wrong, I love it but the plot is pretty basic) when the protag. Ichigo was fighting against the main big powerful villain, Aizen, he said that he could feel Aizen's sword wavering with loneliness. This very concept applies to the powerful peaks of Jujutsu Kaisen. The path of power is lonely. Kenjaku himself said that Gojo is truly in his element when he is fighting on his own, the ones around him can become a liability really quickly. This of course, when it's about fights where he has to put in some efforts. That's why nobody is interfering with his Sukuna duel.

Satoru started being truly alone after Suguru left.

Another waver of his conviction. But this time, not only about not being strong enough. He didn't do enough. Ever since Gojo unlocked his techniques and became powerful, he wasn't allowed to be human anymore. He had to do mission after mission, take over the missions unfinished by others, he was expected to do everything and be the saviour of the Jujutsu World. With Suguru, he was human. Yet, just as Suguru said 'it was a busy summer'. No more space for one another.

Geto was also strong. A special grade. He too became lonely.

For Sugru, having a meaning was fundamental. His cursed technique was a constant reminder of how awful non-sorceres are. He would eat their malice, who tasted like a cloth wiped in puke and shit and whereas he understood Satoru, nobody understood him. He himself said that nobody has any idea just how bad curses taste.

When Itadori was eating Sukuna's fingers in the beginning, he would choke, cough complain a lot. Geto had over 2000 curses. He had exorcised and ingested again and again and again. The only humanity around him was Satoru, his best friend. And that got taken away by the Jujutsu world and he remained alone with his own despair. He went on his own path, feeling useless and misunderstood, still viewing Satoru as a friend but also as a term of comparison. He got left without meaning and so he forged himself a new one. He became really similar to Sukuna, with no regard for the ones beneath him, the monkeys. But also, ironically enough, Suguru stopped being the strongest. He viewed himself as weak. He doomed himself. He wanted to feel necessary— he was desperate. He thought he was saving the Jujutsu world.

They were probably meant for tragedy. And that's the sad part. Satoru would've outgrown him regardless but maybe Suguru wouldn't have chosen such a radical path. Toji's existence, an anomaly, broke the flow of their fate. (approx quote from manga) That's why he is more relevant to the story than people believe. Sure, he is sexy as fuck but Toji is literally the beginning and the end of an era, he is everything.

Gojo's second waver pushed him to become a teacher. He had grown and chose a smart path, preserving the youths, the future; no more mass murder. Suguru remained stagnant with his hatred and eventually died. For him, I'd say his life stoped the moment Riko died. His potential as a sorcerer came to a plateau. Everything came to an end so it was only a matter of time before his body died as well.

Back on Gojo's humanity. The funny thing is that this point was proven by the readers of the manga themselves, lol. When Satoru got sealed, he got shat on hardcore. Like, you can't imagine. Reddit and Discord servers were eating his ass up worse than they do now with Sukuna for using Mahoraga. Gojo got blamed for Nanami and Kugisaki (rip my angels, still praying for Nobara), he got blamed for Sukuna taking over Megumi and probably he blames himself too— what "mistake" did he make? Showing humanity when being met with the corpse of his best friend, his only catalyst, his only balance, the only one to ever make him feel normal and give him his Blue Spring, the most beautiful moments of his life. And Kenjaku knew that Suguru's corpse was the only thing to make Satoru waver. In the manga it's clearly stated that despite more than one minute having passed in his mind, physically he stood still for 6 seconds. Even his most regretfull, sorrowful crisis lasted him an inhumane amount of time.

And Gojo too, was the only thing that caused the remaints of Suguru's soul to attempt strangling Kenjaku. (which he admits has never happened before. and suguru is dead— gojo literally triggered the residues of his soul). That's what I mean by intimate.

Even if the concept of soul is often spoken about, their souls are connected. That's how much they mean for eachother.

Perosnally I find this relationship to be perfectly beautiful as it is, without any flaunt of erotica needed, kudos to Gege. I still enjoy writing angst and smut based on their dynamic tho XD. And I don't agree with the ones calling them straight and being so eager to deny them or resume this deep connection to just friends. Like sure, they are not gay-gay but they are... linked. More than friends, more than family. Gege themself said so when speaking about them. I think it's a very clear statement.

If you like the way I think and view characters, check my fics, lol. Much love <33 exstasyplague on A03.

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hecoxthirst · 3 months

Text

Title: Ivy and forget-me-nots

For @lilac-hecox

Rating: General audiences

Tags: Alternative universe, soulmates, tattoos/birthmarks, angst, fluff, happy ending, fan art.

Summary: Everyone in the world is born with a little bud drawn on their inner wrist, that changes over time. This is the story of Ian and Anthony's relationship told through those changes.

Read on AO3

♡ ♡ ♡

Everyone in the world is born with a little bud drawn on their inner wrist.

♡ ♡ ♡

It looks like a tattoo, but it’s more like a birthmark, and it changes over time. The style of it and even what real life plant it resembles is not the same for everyone.

When Ian first meets Anthony, he’s just a kid. He hasn’t put much thought into his mark, yet. He knows it will start to change when he meets his soulmate. He is excited to notice the first changes after only knowing him for a few weeks.

He can’t stop looking at it. From the base of his wrist, long thin stems have begun to grow. Small buds open up over time, revealing tiny, pale blue flowers.

“Looks like forget-me-nots.” His mother casually comments. He blushes and pulls down his sleeve, like any prepubescent kid would do when confronted about their crush.

Ian feels lucky to feel such a strong bond with his soulmate already. And they met so young too! This is great. It means they’ll get to spend the rest of their lives, the majority of their lives, together. Some aren’t as lucky and only get to see their mark bloom much later in life, spending their young years wondering if their soulmate is actually out there somewhere.

He has no doubt it’s Anthony.

Twisting vines have started to sprout from his wrist, and the first leaves appeared when Ian agreed to stay overnight so they can work on Anthony’s website.

Anthony always dreamed about meeting his soulmate in the most romantic circumstances possible. He had a whole romance movie in his head. He didn’t expect his mark to start growing after spending a day drawing swirly poops with flies around them, but he can’t be mad about it.

Something about Ian immediately caught his attention. It’s the way he laughs so easily at his jokes, and the way he’s so effortlessly funny, making Anthony laugh too. Plus, he’s really cute, which is a nice bonus.

Anthony knows soulmates can have complicated relationships, but he knows it’s even worse when people ‘settle’ for someone who isn’t their soulmate.

His mother never found hers. She married once, but it wasn’t the one. Things worked out in the end for their family, sure, but Anthony still can’t help but think that there’s gotta be someone out there who would be the perfect fit. He can’t help himself, he’s a romantic.

This is why he’s beyond excited to get to spend every second of every day with Ian. They are inseparable. Their respective parents already talk about how they make a cute couple, they have also become acquainted with each other knowing they will be in-laws eventually.

And Anthony believes this too. He is too young to do anything now, but he can’t wait to be old enough to propose.

Despite this, they don’t do anything explicitly romantic besides holding hands. Their bond is so strong. They are destined to be together, there’s no need to rush things.

Still, Anthony’s feelings grow stronger every day, just like the ivy climbing up his arm.

It’s hard to know if Ian feels the same, sometimes. But Anthony can’t doubt their love. He has to believe.

Finding your soulmate this young is actually pretty rare.

Soon, most people just kinda know they found the one. It’s easy to tell, just looking at their marks. Not everyone knows they are each other’s soulmates, but most people who know them do.

They have their first kiss when they are fifteen.

Neither of them had the chance to date other people, so neither of them has experience with this stuff. Anthony asks Ian out on their first ‘official’ date - yes, Ian, it’s different than just hanging out! It’s- it’s just different, trust me.

They fumble awkwardly, bumping noses and not knowing what to do with their hands, but after a brief moment they both burst into giggles.

“Oh.”

“See, I told you it would be different.”

“Can we, uh…”

“Do it again?”

“Yeah.”

Anthony’s smile couldn’t be brighter. If he smiled any harder than this it would hurt. He cups Ian’s face this time, making sure to measure the distance so they won’t bump into each other or press too hard this time. He connects their lips softly, and he feels Ian tremble slightly.

This is the happiest he’s ever been.

♡ ♡ ♡

As years pass, their marks don’t change much, but they stay just as luxuriant. Ian’s with his pretty blue flowers and Anthony with his lush green leaves.

Life moves along, Smosh becomes something bigger than they had ever imagined, so much that it feels like a lot to handle on their own. So when a company approaches them with the idea of buying it from them, it sounds really appealing.

It’s great at first. They have a bigger budget than they have ever had, the production quality of their videos skyrockets, but… over time, it becomes clear that something’s not right.

There’s this fragile equilibrium. It’s a pendulum swinging, it’s a glass set on the edge of a counter, it’s a sword hanging over both of their heads.

As Anthony grows angrier and more resentful, the ivy on his skin turns into something uglier he can’t even recognize.

On Ian’s arm, tiny blue petals begin to fall, crowding around his wrist like a bracelet he can’t take off. One by one they fade, until all that’s left is these sad, dried up stems.

Every time Ian gets a glimpse of the thorny mess on Anthony’s wrist, his stomach churns. He tries as hard as he can to ignore it. There’s already so much going on, they have so many projects. He can’t afford to stop and think too hard about what this means.

He’s heard the stories and he’s seen the movies. It’s never a good sign when someone’s mark changes so much for the worse.

Anthony feels like he’s trapped. Smosh, this beautiful thing they created together, which represents their friendship and their shared sense of humor, is being turned into some kind of creature he doesn’t recognize, something that has a life of its own and he has no control over it anymore. He feels lost and hurt, and it only gets worse when he’s finally brave and broaches the subject to Ian.

Of course Ian won’t leave with him. Look at those withering, dry stems on his arm. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. Anthony knows Ian stopped loving him a while ago.

With Anthony gone, Ian finds himself wearing a lot of long sleeved shirts. He’s tired of people assuming, or even worse, asking about his soulmate. He doesn’t want anyone to see what a sad, pathetic little thing his mark was reduced to.

All flowers fell long ago, and gradually those little stems are bending down, falling over, breaking. Soon, there’s nothing left. It’s like it was never even there. It almost looks like he doesn’t have a mark at all, which in a way is a relief.

♡ ♡ ♡

Years go by, and Ian never really stops missing Anthony, but the pain becomes more dull over time. He convinces himself that he doesn’t need, he doesn’t even want, a soulmate.

That is, until his friend brings it up. He avoids talking about Anthony when he can, but he trusts her enough to mention him, and she asks to see his mark.

He pulls away. He hasn’t shown it to anyone in years. But she’s gentle and he eventually gives in, offering his left arm to her. He can’t look at it. He knows what she will see. He feels her lift up his sleeve. When she says nothing, it bothers him enough to look at her to see her reaction.

She has this little smile on her face.

“What?” He asks, befuddled.

“Are you so sure you’re over him?”

He is confused. Until he sees her eyes dart downwards. He follows them until his own fall on his mark, and… his heart squeezes almost painfully. A small, pale, delicate flower has blossomed again after so long.

“Uh… that’s nothing. It doesn’t mean- I- I can’t.”

He panics, retreating his arm into his lap, hastily covering up his traitorous mark.

He’s been watching Anthony from afar. He can’t bring himself to watch through a single video, but he’s seen what his soulmate has been up to. He finally found his footing as a creator and he’s enjoying his success. Not just that, but he looks happier now. Happy, period.

Ian thinks ‘good for him’, but part of him can’t help but wonder. Is Anthony happier without him? Is he finally completely over him?

Anthony never hid his mark, unlike Ian. But over time it’s become harder to see it clearly, since he decided to hide it with tattoos. Or, at least that’s how Ian interprets it. He’s sure they have a significance or whatever.

Even so, Ian saw people speculate online. He saw the screenshots. He tries to stay away from that stuff, he blocked his name wherever he could so he wouldn’t have to see people’s comments about it, but even so… it’s inescapable. He stared at the green leaves amongst the thorns and the ink. He hadn’t seen a single leaf on Anthony’s skin in years.

He can’t help the little ember of hope burning in his chest. Maybe that’s why his own mark changed. Whatever he used to feel for Anthony was never truly gone, it’s just… it became harder to see what was so good about their relationship when everything else surrounding it was such a complete mess. But now, with distance, both physical and temporal… it’s easier to see it again.

So when his friend suggests he should reach out… it doesn’t feel completely insane to consider.

They meet - on purpose, with the intention of being in each other’s presence - for the first time since Anthony left.

They are not alone, they brought friends so they’ll have some kind of buffer between them. The idea of being alone with him is overwhelming. Ian doesn’t think he could handle it.

But it goes well. It’s a little awkward, but only for the first few minutes. They are both surprised to find it’s so easy to pick things up where they left them back when they could still call each other friends.

♡ ♡ ♡

They have been hanging out semi-regularly on their own for a while now. Ian can’t believe he is about to say this, but nothing has ever felt so right.

He chooses to be brave. If Anthony turns him down, at least he can say he tried.

“This is gonna sound crazy, so bear with me. It’s been on my mind for a while, uh… what if- what if we bought Smosh?”

Before he’s even done talking, Anthony jumps to his feet, unable to contain his excitement.

“Dude, you beat me to it, I was about to say-” he proceeds to go on a rant about everything they could do if they had their old channel back, and it’s clear that he’s put thought into this, it’s not the first time it crosses his mind. Ian can only sit there and listen, and watch him talk animatedly, with fondness blossoming in his heart, and awe painted on his face.

That’s it. There’s the man he fell for, that’s his soulmate he knew. He’s back.

Despite this, he won’t let his hopes up. They can be friends again. It doesn’t mean they are ready to be romantic soulmates again, not so soon, or maybe ever.

They meet at Ian’s house to attempt writing a sketch for the first time in… god, too long. He wonders if they still have it. He hopes so, but he wouldn’t be too shocked if it turns out they’ve changed too much.

They spend hours on this, almost forgetting this is supposed to be work. They are just having so much fun, laughing so hard their sides hurt. It feels like they are little kids again.

By the end, Ian is pretty satisfied with what they created.

Before leaving, Anthony turns to Ian. Ian can’t stop smiling, he’s giddy like he hasn’t been since he was a teen with a crush. To be fair, Anthony isn’t faring much better.

Anthony reaches for Ian’s left arm. Ian rolled up his sleeves without thinking. He is already gulping at the realization that Anthony probably saw his single blue flower, and the thought of what he’ll think about it.

Anthony’s eyes drag along his arm, watching in silent awe. Ian glances down and his eyes widen.

His mark has fully bloomed again over the span of a single afternoon. He hadn’t even noticed, he’s astonished. He knew his mark was sprouting new buds, but he didn’t think they’d all bloom at once so quickly.

“I’ve never seen it like this.” Anthony comments, almost breathless.

“Me neither.”

Anthony smiles at him at the admission. Ian takes one of the hands holding his wrist and turns it over so he can take a look at Anthony’s. He has a feeling, but if he’s wrong he’ll deal with it like an adult.

But whatever he was expecting wasn’t as wonderful as what he actually sees. There’s none of the tangled thorns. In their place, now beautiful ivy sprouts at his wrist and climbs all the way up his arm to his elbow, twisting around his arm.

When Ian glances up, he notices him blushing faintly.

“Yours grew so much in one day too?”

“No…” Anthony chuckles, shyly ducking his head. “It’s been growing for a while, but it’s even more lush after today.”

“Oh.”

He almost can’t believe this. All this time he thought his hope was unfounded and his feelings weren't reciprocated, at least not in full, but it’s impossible to deny now. The proof is a living, growing thing on Anthony’s skin.

“I’m sorry I interpreted it the wrong way,” Anthony says, once again taking Ian’s hands in his own. “It took me years to understand that it didn’t mean your love was gone, just that your feelings were complicated. Mine were too, I should have known.”

Ian is taken aback by the sincerity, but he gets a hold of himself and shakes his head.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I mean, I looked at yours and I thought it meant you hated me.”

“I could never hate you.” Anthony looks hurt by the mere insinuation, “I was just so angry, because I felt like we were losing control of something that used to be ours, and I needed you to stand by me, and you didn’t. I’m not blaming you, I understand why you couldn’t! But it hurt at the time. And… for a long time, after.”

Anthony squeezes his hands lightly. He can’t believe they are talking about this. He never thought they would talk again at all, let alone have such an earnest and heartfelt conversation. He missed Ian so fucking much, part of him still can’t believe he’s here right now.

“I know that now,” Ian says, “But seeing your ivy turn into that bramble… it was scary. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to say that that part of you is scary, you had a right to be upset–”

Anthony cuts him off, “I get it, it’s okay.” He smiles gently at him, so fondly, Ian almost melts. “Let’s not let our marks speak for us anymore, okay? Let’s use our words.”

Ian smiles back, blushing a bit.

“Yeah… good call.”

He looks away because he can’t stand to hold his gaze, and instead he takes in the beautiful forget-me-nots that now take up a large part of his forearm.

“Man, that’s gonna be hard to hide.” He chuckles. Anthony stays silent, so he looks up and immediately he realizes his mistake. “Not because I want to hide it! I just– sorry. Force of habit. I was hiding it for so long to avoid questions. I, uh…” It’s hard to admit. He feels pathetic, but he knows he’s safe to admit it to Anthony now. “I didn’t want people to pity me.”

Anthony lets go of his hands. Ian begins to panic, but soon he finds he has no reason to because one of Anthony’s hands goes to cup his face instead.

“If you would rather keep it private, I understand. Our bond is none of anyone’s business.”

“What about yours? That looks even harder to hide.”

Anthony shrugs. “I’ll wear long sleeves.”

Ian is so touched. He shakes his head.

“There’s no need to. I’d like people to see it.” He cracks a teasing smile, “You didn’t hide it back then it was at its worst, why hide it now that it’s so gorgeous?”

“If people see it, they’ll know how I feel about you. They’ll know something has changed… they’ll want to know everything, they’ll speculate.”

“Let them.”

Anthony is surprised to hear that. Ian always had this type of attitude, acting unaffected by everything, but he knows that he’s really a private person and this type of thing bothers him.

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck it, man.” Ian laughs. “I got my soulmate back. I don’t give a fuck what strangers on the internet have to say about it.”

Anthony can’t help but let his laughter infect him. Without having to think about it too much, he just does the most natural thing he could do. He kisses his soulmate.

♡ ♡ ♡

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