#His favorite colors were yellow and pink so he made him a yellow one

[mishelkie-art]

Hello~ As promised, here are the 2017 versions of my Strawhat mermaid designs in comparison to the 2023/2024 versions. I originally had posted these to a different account, however I haven't posted any art on that blog in a long time, I think maybe since 2017? And now I don't really think of it as an art blog anymore. I originally started this blog so I could post the full and better quality versions of my art that I couldn't on Insta (cuz it SUCKS), but now I think I'll also post new stuff I come up with, instead of Insta being my main. Anyway-

To start with, as I mentioned in my last post, these designs were born from a specific AU in mind. In this AU, there isn't just one kind of merfolk, but merfolk were instead made up of many groups of different kinds of merpeople. Sharks, for example, were their own subgroup. Another example would be a group including aquatic mammals like whales and dolphins, and another group would be crustaceans, ect. I think in my first go at turning the Strawhats in merfolk I limited myself too much, like three of them were sharks and the others were just other kinds of fish. I do like Franky as a lionfish, but I changed him to a humpback whale to showoff more of the differences and similarities between the different kinds of merfolk. Plus, after the timeskip I think he's now canonically the slowest member of the crew, so making him a large animal that's been known to protect other species of animals from orcas seemed fitting, ya know?

With brook, he straight up was just some random fish that I really can't remember the name of, and I'm happy that this time around I did more research and found an animal that fits the spooky nature of his devil fruit. Overall, I think everyone got a glow up, but out of all of them I think Zoro's my favorite. I hate how I gave him that serious broody expression when it doesn't suit our beloved himbo idiot at all lol I feel the new version can be intimidating still, but also comes across as softer thanks to the colored lines and use of pinks and soft red. I don't know what I was thinking making Sanji primarily yellow, like his Wano outfit looks good but yellow is mainly his Germa color 😭 2nd time around I made him blue for his All Blue, and I wasn't sure if it came through, but I tried to curl and color his tail fins to make them look like crashing waves.

Unfortunately, at the time I drew these Jinbei wasn't an "official" member of the crew, so I hadn't thought to draw him. Also, I feel that I mistyped in the last post in regards to Vivi, by "original design", I was referring to the CANON design, not a previous design that I had come up with 😓

But yeah, I can't believe it's been seven years since I drew the first versions of these designs, I swtg ever since 2020 the years have just been blurring together lol

[ieatratsforlunch]

Child Jinkles was sweet to the point where he literally made everyone friendship bracelets, including Cuddles in the hopes that they would be his friends. This is a fact

[erwinsvow]

⋆˚✿˖° part two of this ⋆˚✿˖°

the first time it had been tight shorts and an even tighter, cropped long sleeve. rafe had convinced you to stay back with him, murmuring in your ear about how no one else should get to see so much of you exposed like this. you’d fallen for it instantly, with big eyes and a sappy heart, realizing that you liked it when rafe was being overprotective like this.

the next few times hadn’t been as easy, like today. you had opted for skin-tight leggings—blue, like all your workout clothes were now, the pinks and yellows of the past swiftly replaced for your new favorite color—and a matching sports bra that made him want to lock you up in his bedroom. 

you’re filling up your water bottle in the kitchen and waiting for sarah, which is your usual routine. rafe knows this and always conveniently always wanders down there when you’re on your way out and his sister is taking too long with her hair in the bathroom. he has at least five minutes alone with you.

“what’d i say about going out like that?” 

you hold onto your bottle tight, not wanting to let it almost slip like last time. you smile automatically at the fact that he came to talk to you, but hide it before you turn, before he can see it.

“everyone wears stuff like this, rafe. it’s pilates.”

“ion know what that means.” he stalks closer, like last time, and you try to strengthen your resolve, “you gonna listen or are we gonna have a problem?” your face burns. you hope he doesn’t notice it.

“well, you’re not my boyfriend, so i don’t have to listen to you,” you say, sucking in a breath and trying to look rafe right in the eyes. it’s hard to not cave to his demands, but you know you’re right. you’re both silent for longer than you expected.

“is that so?” your knees suddenly feel weak, every logical fiber in your body shouting at you to not start something with rafe that you can’t finish. it takes everything in you not to set your bottle down on the counter and make your way back up to rafe’s bedroom. you fight the urge as hard as you can.

“m’just saying. if you were really my boyfriend i’d do what you say.” sarah comes down the stairs, and you use the chance to make your escape. when she’s out the door, you turn back quickly. “bye, rafe.”

your class is an hour, but getting a drink with sarah and your friends tacks on another thirty-minutes. when you finally come back to tannyhill, you’ve almost completely forgotten your interaction with rafe. you know he’s not serious about dating you, and it’s time for him to go back to just being sarah’s cute brother, and not your potential anything. 

you settle on the couch, wondering if you should even risk staying for dinner or just head back home now, when you hear sarah from the kitchen.

“what the hell is this?” you follow the sound, walking in to find flowers on the counter, pretty yellow flowers with a pink bow, and a card that says your name on it.

ignoring sarah’s words, you open it up, and in scribbled handwriting that you immediately recognize is a few words.

better start listening. rc.

[rafesslxt]

Hii! I am so addicted to your writing! It keeps my heart warm ^^

So I work in a flower shop and I was wondering if you could make anything on Mattheo x florist!reader, mostly fluff where they get to know when he and maybe theo was there looking for something for theo’s gf or like, and he met reader.

Love your work again 💞💞

[that makes me really happy to hear, thank you love. hope you enjoy and imagined it something like that 🤍]

🌻 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 | 𝐦.𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

「 ✦ fluff, fem!reader, different house!reader, mattheo falling in love at first sight, mattheo sending reader her fav flowers + English is not my first language + not proof read yet✦ words: 2,5k 」

It was a beautiful Saturday today with the sun shining through the windows and the opened door to the little flower shop I work in besides school. A lot of people came in today, buying flowers for their loved ones, alive or passed.

Even tho it made my heart happy to see all these people buying flowers for their partners, I couldn't help but wonder when someone will buy me my favorites.

"Hey y/n, I'm gonna take my break since it's a bit calmer now. Can I leave you alone my dear?" Mrs. Rosewood asked me. She's in her mid 70's and also the owner of the shop, working in here with all her heart and passion. "Of course Mrs. Rosewood. I'm gonna be fine, don't worry." I gave her a reassuring look and a little smile while removing the thorns from our new arrived roses. "Thank you love, I won't be gone for too long."

I continued cutting off the thorns when I heard two young male voices coming into the shop. I put the flowers in my hands to the side and look up, seeing Theodore Nott and Mattheo Riddle. Of course I know them, who doesn't? Both of them were quite popular in my school, but from another house than mine. Slytherins.

"Dude, just pick some. I bet she won't even mind which one's as long as it's some flowers." Mattheo groaned at his best friend. "No, I don't just wanna give her something. She's special bro."

I had to smirk at the scene in front of me. It wasn't rare that especially man came into our shop without a clue. I left the counter where I stood and walked over to the,. "Hey guys, can I help you?" I questioned with a soft voice.

Both of their heads turned towards me, just now noticing me. Theo smiled at me and nodded. "Hey uhm – yeah. I wanna buy flowers for my girlfriend and don't know what to get her. I think she doesn't have favorite flowers but I wanna give her something.. special." I saw a light tint forming on his cheeks but I hid my smirk.

"Well I could tell you the meanings of some flowers and you can decide what fits the best for whatever you wanna tell her with them. How does that sound?" he instantly looked a little bit relieved. "Yeah, great. That would be really great."

I started to list some of our flowers we sell with their meanings to it but nothing seemed to fit until after a while I got an idea. "Oh my god wait I have the idea. You could gift her tulips. Each color means something different." "Really? That would be quite special, right?"

I waked him over to our tulips and started to pick some of them out of the vases. "So red means 'deep love' which obviously fits, right? Then we have the yellow ones that stand for 'happiness and sunshine which is perfect for happy occasions. The variegated ones mean 'you have beautiful eyes' because of their beautiful color patterns. The pink ones stand for 'affection and caring'. And last the cream tulips which mean 'I will love you forever.'"

Theodore looks at me impressed and starts smiling. "This is perfect, she will love this! Can you give me three of each please?" I smile back at him and start making a pretty bouquet out of the 15 tulips, adding some cream colored ribbons to the stems.

When I look up I suddenly met Mattheo's eyes, somehow staring into mine. I give him a shy smile and when Theo see's his best friends state he nudged him slightly against his shoulder. He breaks our eye contact and looks down to his feet. Did I do something wrong?

"Here, your flowers. I know your girlfriend will love them." I promise and send him a warm smile. "Thanks again y/n, don't know what I would have done without your help." And with that I give him the bouquet and he pays, leaving a generous tip which I refused to take at first but only took because he told me he would leave it on the door If I wouldn't take it. I have to admit he definitely has charm and I completely understand his girlfriend, but my mind couldn't forget the eye contact I had with his best friend.

I think I never saw Mattheo that quiet, which lets me worry I may have been boring him with all my talking about flowers. But now it was too late anyways to I tried to shake that thought off as good as I could.

The next day I walked through the halls of Hogwarts when suddenly a pretty girl stood in front of me. I think I recognize her somewhere, her necklace gives a hint of her being from Slytherin. "Hey, are you y/n l/n ?" she asks me with a little smile to her lips, tilting her head to the side a bit. "Yeah that's me, is everything alright?" I asked her kind of worried that maybe I am in trouble.

"No I just wanted to thank you. I am Theodore's girlfriend and he gave me the flowers he bought in your shop. He told me you helped him and I just wanted to tell you how much I loved them." A bright smile formed on my lips now and I nodded. "Oh I'm happy you liked them that much!" "Yes, especially the meaning behind the so, thank you again. I guess I will see you around." she politely comments. "Yeah, see you around." With that she walked away again and left me with a smirk on my lips. I'm alway's so happy when I see the reactions of the people that get gifted by our flowers.

Another day went by, the weekend over which meant I had to get ready for classes again. With a good mood I woke up my best friends which I shared a dorm with together and changed into my school uniform. First class today was Transfiguration.

I sat down next to my best friend Blair, waiting for the professor to start the lesson. "You remember when I told you that mattheo and Theodore were in my shop? I forgot to tell you that Theo's girlfriend came to me yesterday and thanked me for helping him with the flowers." I whispered to her. She turned her head to me with big eyes. "And that's something you just forget to tell your best friend? Where was your mind that you forgot?" she chuckled until she noticed my pink cheeks. "Oh my god, are you still thinking about Riddle?" Now my eyes had gone wide. "Shhhh –"

"Please open your books on page 286." Professor McGonagall started the class, just right on time so I wouldn't have to hear Blair try to tell me what a huge crush I developed in two days for him. Which isn't true I mean.

We were in the middle of class when someone knocked on the closed door. All heads turned towards it, inclusive Professor McGonagall's who spoke, "Yes, please?" The door opened and a younger boy from Slytherin, I guess from year 4 maybe, walked in with the biggest bouquet of sunflowers I've ever seen in my entire life.

"Wow.." I breathed out, stunned at the sight in front of us. Sunflowers were my absolute favorite flowers since I was a little kid and my dad planted them in our garden.

"Uhm – I'm sorry to interrupt your class Professor but.." I saw him gulping and had to swallow down my laugh. He looked so nervous under her arched brows and surprised face. ".. I was send to deliver these flowers to y/n l/n. It's a gift." What?

Now all heads turned to me, away from the boy. He walked over to me and handed me the bouquet, rushing out of the classroom. "Who the hell send these to you?" Blair gasped and gawked at all the flowers. " I - I don't know." I stuttered still too stunned to speak.

I met the gaze from McGonagall who's corners of her lips slightly turned upwards before she told the class to concentrate again and dismissed me to bring the bouquet to my room.

On my way out I smelled the, my heart instantly turning warm. Who could have send them to me? Who would know they are my favorites? I never told anyone beside my family and Blair. Was this a mistake? Oh god, a prank even?

I rushed to my dorm where the next surprise waited for me when I opened the door. What the –. At least a hundred of sunflowers were spread all over my dorm. On the beds, on the tables, nightstands, some even on the ground in white vases. Tears started to form in my eyes. Who could have done this? And how?

I mean, I wasn't even away for an hour. A half maybe? I stepped inside slowly, careful to not run over any of the flowers. The whole room smelled like them now, even with the opened windows. I think I've had never seen something so beautiful like this. I looked for any sign, a letter maybe.

Then, I found one on my nightstand. It was a little card. I opened it and read

" The most beautiful part is, I wasn't even looking when I found you."

I turned the letter around. But nothing. No sign of who's behind all of this. I took out a new vase of my own and put the flowers in my hand into it. Why is he keeping it a secret who he is?

A few days went by and I found myself working in the shop today again. The last time I was here, was when I helped Theodore. "Good afternoon." I greeted Mrs. Rosewood who already prepared some flowers. "Oh hello dear, good to see you. How are you?" I'm good, how about you? Lot's of people today?" She turns back to the flowers in her hand and answers, "No not really, I already thought about giving you a day off because I really don't know how to entertain you today."

"Ah you know I could always help preparing flowers." I chuckled, while grabbing my apron. "Hm no I'm already done with them. really dear, take a day off. And maybe spend them with your new boyfriend." she smiled at me. Boyfriend? What?

"Mrs. Rosewood, I don't have a boyfriend?" She turned to me again with a surprised look on her face. " Oh really? Then who was the boy in here ordering all these sunflowers for you?"

My jaw almost hit the floor. She know's who bought them for me? "What? You know who he was?When was he here?" I asked her eager.

"Oh it was a young boy in your age. He asked me what your favorite flowers were and what the meaning of them were. I told him Sunflowers, that's right. Right?" "Y-Yeah they are but- who was he? How did he look? I received them through someone else and all over my room but to the letter were no initials."

"Ah he had brown curly hair, brown eyes. He looked really handsome. Oh I forgot his name. Max? Matthew? Oh! Mattheo! His name was Mattheo." she smiled brightly at me while I felt all my color vanishing from my face.

Was this really a joke? But who would do this for a prank? Then a normal bouquet would have been enough. "Are you sure it's from him?" "Yes, yes I am. he was in here Saturday with his friend too while I took a break. I saw him from the other side of the street, I remember."

My heart pounded so fast in my chest I feared it crawling out of my mouth. Mattheo. Mattheo Riddle. He send them to me.

She must have seen my face because she smiled at me again. "You have a free day my dear, go talk to him." I let out a deep breath, nodding. "I - I will. Thank you so much!" And all of a sudden I couldn't stop smiling.

I almost ran towards our school, looking for the brunette boy. God where should I start looking for him? Then without really thinking about it, I walked towards the common room of the Slytherins, sporting just the person I needed right now.

"Pansy!" I almost shutout through the hall and jogged towards her just when she wanted to walk inside her common room. "Y/n? Did you already figure out it was- " "Yes, yes I did. Can you tell me where he is?" "He's inside. Should I tell him you're waiting here?" "Please, and thank you Pansy." She smiled at me and nodded her head. "No problem."

I felt like throwing up while waiting for Mattheo. Again my heart almost jumped out of my chest when he finally stepped out of his common room. He seemed nervous and scratched the back of his neck.

"Hey y/n." he nearly whispered, standing right in front of me now. "You.. send the flowers, right?" I asked him with so much hope in my voice. He nodded, a shy smile forming on his lips. "It was me, yes. Did you like them? The lady in the store told me Sunflowers are your favorites so I guessed you- " Without letting him speak his full sentence, I crashed into him and hugged him tightly, my head just reaching his chest.

"I loved them, thank you Mattheo. They are so beautiful. Nobody did something like that for me like, ever. The k you so much." I murmured against his clothes, my eyes welling up again.

He wrapped his arms around my body and looked down at me. "So, you're not disappointed that they are from me?" he softly asked. "What? How could I me disappointed at that? I have the biggest crush on you since -" I stopped myself when I realized the words coming right out of my mouth.

I slowly looked up into his teasing smile. "Hmm, a crush yeah?" my cheeks probably turned red like a tomato. he placed a hand on my cheeks and stroked it lovingly with his thumb. "I was so stunned when you offered Theo your help. I couldn't believe I never saw you before in school. I was so utterly falling in love that-"

Now he was the one who stopped mid sentence and I looked at him shocked. "Love?" He licked his lips and gulped before nodding slowly. "Yeah.. love at first sight or.. something like that. The told me it's called like that."

I couldn't believe my ears. Or my eyes. Was this really happening? "So, would you like to go on a date with me?" he asked me, still stroking my cheek. "Of course, I'd love to actually." I giggled, still wondering If this all was just a dream too good to be true.

[I feel like the ending kinda sucked but I couldn't do better right now, damn.]

thank you guys for reading, let me know how you liked it in the comments if u want to 💛

xoxo sarah <3

other info:

sunflower divider is by: @saradika 🌻

[taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @sofa-couch26 @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @littlemadamred @mixvchelle @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @beautywine @sagetakami @simp-for-fantasy @whyamireadingthis ]

[jarofstyles]

Indigo- Sapphire

Hello my loves, here they are! Your favorite tattoo artist and his girlie. Let me know what you think plz plz plz

Series Masterlist

Patreon

Warnings- tattooing, mention of anxiety and needles etc

-------------

Y/N had a lot of thoughts. 

The first one was that tattoos hurt, yes, but in a different way than she had originally thought. Harry had been right in telling her it was more so uncomfortable than anything else, because while it wasn’t a sharp, blazing pain, it was dull. Throbbing. Like she was being scratched by her cat in the same spot. It was bearable, though. Way less discomfort than she had thought. It was nice to feel capable, to not worry that she was going to embarrass herself in front of Harry.

Which brought her to thought number two.

Harry was stupidly, ridiculously, infuriatingly gorgeous. 

Y/N had been peeping at him as they spoke, his eyes glued to the piece as he spoke which gave her more of a sense of comfort. Like she was getting away with staring. It would be hard not to with him up so close to her, his warmth radiating through the plastic-y gloves. The first thing she had noticed was how nice his hair was. A warm chestnut hue with some natural caramel highlights- at least, she was pretty sure they were natural. It was longer and curled, little ringlets near his ears making her fingers itch to tuck it back for him. It was clipped up in the front, and that made sense considering he had a habit of running his hand through his hair, but she wanted to see it down again. The full effect. 

In another way, she was happy that it was pulled out of the way because she could really get a good look at him. His jaw was sharp, but not so much that it was necessarily stone like. He looked like a statue, but one that was carved with the human likeness that made people feel uneasy. His cheeks were high and his brows were straight, not a ton of arch to them, but he kept himself well groomed. There was a tiny hint of stubble on his upper lip along with a cute little birthmark that she hadn’t noticed before. That had brought her attention to his mouth.

It was almost embarrassing, how distracted she had gotten watching his lips move while he talked. They were a raspberry pink, slightly wet from his habit of occasionally licking over the bottom one before starting a sentence. A pronounced cupid’s bow dipped in the middle of the top, making her want to trace it. They were a little bigger than she had normally noticed, but then again- she didn’t typically spend this much time observing a man in such detail. 

He had a few blemishes, a few cuts that looked like he may have gotten himself while shaving, but it just made him human. Reminded her that he was just like her in that way. Just… gorgeous. His eyelashes were something she was incredibly jealous of, the irritating trait of men getting the good eyelashes striking yet again. She had to wonder how they’d look if he used her lengthening mascara? A wandering thought to think about later. 

They’d been chatting about this and that, a bit of gossip about Niall and his new girlfriend who he had recently introduced to the group, some about her work, some about his. What really caught her off guard though, was how easy it was to talk to him.

Silences aren't awkward. Sometimes they fell into them and it stayed that way for a moment before moving on naturally and she didn’t feel like crawling out of her skin. Y/N had a bad habit of wanting to fill those silences so she would babble, and considering she still had a decent amount of nerves because her crush on Harry was growing in size by the minute, she really liked this detail. He was being sweet and inquisitive without prying all that much, asking the basic friend questions- and some odd ones. 

What’s your favorite color? His was Yellow, he responded.

Did she have any pets? No, her old roommate did and she catsits sometimes. He didn’t, but he wanted one. 

What was her favorite gift she got as a kid? A knock off barbie dreamhouse. She hadn’t cared that it wasn’t the same as the rest of her friends, her mom had been so happy to give it to her that it had become the most cherished thing. She had it in her attic to this day for her future kids, should she choose to have any. His was a high quality art set. 

Did she believe in the paranormal? Yes, she did. He was undecided. A healthy skeptic, he’d said.

It was lighthearted but also not necessarily small talk, which usually made Harry itch. He’d confessed that earlier to her, making her see a bit further into him. It was obvious that he was curious about some of the things about her and considering what had happened the night before, she had to wonder what the intention was. 

He had said he got nervous around her because she was so pretty it intimidated him. That he said and did stupid things when he was around a girl like her. Insinuating maybe a returned crush? Confirming it? She didn’t know. She also didn’t know what he wanted out of this. Was it going to turn into a nice friendship where they laugh about his crush on her later on down the line, or would this develop into something more?

Y/N didn’t want to get ahead of herself. They’d just started talking, but having been repressed from allowing herself to feel that attraction to him, it had just hit her like a truck. He was so sweet, so gentle with her. The opposite of what people may assume about his exterior. When they went out, despite how charming he was, he was quiet most of the time. Outside their friend group, she had seen him revert back into a cool mask, stony and giving the impression that people shouldn’t come up to him. Not quite as intense as the one he had worn with her but enough for her to see that his resting face definitely gave him the reputation he had. Sometimes she wished she had that ability, considering all sorts of people came up to her to talk when she didn’t even know them.

If this was the real him, the one who had theorized with her if ghosts were real, she wanted to know more about him. 

“How are you doing?” He had stopped to wipe some excess ink, looking up at her from the stool. 

Harry had felt her staring. It had become increasingly harder to keep his cool when he’d thought about it, so he had tried his best to focus on the piece. It was easier said than done. He could feel her eyes scanning him, seeing it from the corner of his eye. It intimidated him. Him out of all people! That’s how he knew this was actually deep for him. Sure, he had crushes before. It was just- Y/N made him feel a lot of new things to him, and that’s why he had fumbled so hard early on.

This was her first tattoo and she had entrusted him with it. His art was currently inked on to her skin and the linework was done, finally moving on to shading. She’d taken it like a champ, sitting better than a lot of other people did. There had been no squirming, no complaining, just a request to move her arm a bit which he had happily done. Her skin took the ink well, the lines standing out against the tone of it. Still, he wanted to check in again.

“I’m good.” Her tiny smile came up again. It flipped his stomach. “Great, actually. I expected it to hurt a lot worse. I mean, it isn’t great but I wasn’t sure how my pain tolerance was going to hold up. It was just like you said, the scratches!” There was a bit of babbling from her, making his own lip quirk up. Too fucking cute. 

“Great. You’re doing fantastic. I’ve had veterans sit in my chair and bitch about it hurting, so you’ve got them beat.” He knocked her knee with his hand before moving to switch out the needles. “M’gonna switch to doing a bit of shading now. This is going to feel a tiny bit different but let me know if you need a break again.” Eyes looked towards her water bottle he had given her sitting between her legs. “And take a sip of that, please.”

Y/N gave a little salute, nodding to him and doing as asked as he switched the things out. It was little cute things like that salute that made him want to cuddle into her. She was just stupidly fucking adorable and he had now gotten to a point where he was seeing deeper parts of her personality. It drove him mad. He had to pace himself, aware that not even 24 hours ago she had been nervous around him for a completely different reason. 

The new set was finished being set up, Harry turning back towards her when he heard the water bottle crinkle again. Holding it up, she shook it slightly to show that she had drank down to another divet in the bottle, making him chuckle quietly. “Good job, sweetheart.” He praised, gloving up. “Thank you for listening t’me. Now we have to get started so we can get proper food in your stomach.”

Y/N was happy he couldn’t read thoughts because hers were going wild. 

Sweetheart? Good job? The fact that he was going to feed her after? 

Her thighs subtly pressed together. The words had gone straight to a hot, gooey, sticky place in her stomach and jolted right down between her thighs. It was depraved on her part really, considering it had all been chaste. He had praised her for listening, for drinking water. He’d only used a nickname… and that smooth voice that had her toes curling in her shoes. Heat burned her ears as he turned back to her with the buzzing gun in hand. Yeah, he would definitely have some thoughts if he could see how much just a simple praise affected her.

Sure, she knew she had a praise kink. It wasn’t a shock to her, but the ease of Harry being able to trigger it was a real problem. It had always been something that she melted with, being called a good girl, doing a good job, taking it so well. Praise kink 101, beginner stuff. Adding in the strikingly handsome and mysterious to her man with a semi admitted crush on her, his hands on her body and his willingness to take care of her? She was a goddamn goner. Finished. All he had to do was continue to stroke her ego a little bit and she would slide down to her knees. Pathetic? Perhaps. She never claimed to be anything otherwise. 

His hands were warm through the gloves, holding her arm in place as the needles stippled her skin. Eyes went back to his face, his septum piercing corrected from being out of place earlier. Only this time, she caught him licking over his lip and swore she saw a flash of… something. Did he….? 

Her mouth opened before her brain could tell her not to ask because it would be a blatant admittance to staring, but it was too late. 

“You- Do you have a tongue piercing?” 

Y/N winced slightly at her own tone. It sounded incredulous, but it was more so shocking that it had taken her a bit to notice that had her so surprised. More than judgemental, she was curious. “Sorry, sorry. That was a weird tone. M’not judging you! I swear. I just didn’t notice it and I thought I would have.” In her head, she facepalmed severely. Probably would have physically if it wouldn't have jostled her arm that was tattooed. “God, ignore me. I just didn’t know you had one and for some reason it surprised me.”

Her flustered nature made Harry grin. It was fucking cute. He hadn’t even remembered that he had one because he’d had it for a while but he had changed it recently. “Hey- It’s cool.” He let himself laugh, squeezing over her arm as he shot her a look. “I do. I know you aren’t judgin’ me. I changed it recently. It used to be pink, so not as noticable, I don’t blame you for not noticing. I wanted to go back to silver though.” He poked his tongue out a bit so she could see as he wiped away some ink, watching in amusement as her eyes widened. 

“Oh. I feel like I keep rambling at you.” She laughed, her own embarrassment evident on her face. “That’s so cool. I thought about getting my nose pierced at some point but I don’t think it would suit me.” It still did sit in the back of her mind sometimes, though. It looked good on Harry, his occasional hoop and the stud he had most of the time always having been attractive to her. “I’m going to ask the overasked question- Did it hurt?”

Her curiosity was only natural. If anything, it made him feel nice to know she actually had an interest in that sort of thing. He hadn’t been hiding his piercing on purpose, but if he had realized she would be so interested in it earlier then maybe he would have switched a while back. “Eh, not that bad. It swelled up a bit so I had to be careful for a bit but luckily mouth stuff tends to heal seemingly quicker. I stuck with a soft food diet for a bit- got one of those punch cards at the smoothie place down the block, had 2 free ones by the time I was done.” He laughed at the memory. It was still a place he frequented every week. “Couldn’t do anything with it and had to be careful so I didn’t bite my tongue. It swells a bit and it’s partially why it’s recommended not to eat hard or spicy foods.” 

Harry had given plenty of piercings before and the tongue wasn’t the worst, but the healing was defintely one of the more annoying ones. You couldn’t really forget about the swelling in your mouth, and the iron taste stuck around for a few days. Luckily for him, he wasn’t a chatterbox and people barely knew he had even had it done. 

“Wow. I think you have a bigger pain tolerance than me.” Y/N laughed, feeling her cheeks cool down slightly. Harry hadn’t seemed offput by the questions, rather eager to answer it. But one more remained. “So is there a reason you got it? Y’know, the aesthetics and stuff like that? I’d be worried about a tooth chipping or something.” Y/N babied her teeth so any piercing in the mouth 24/7 would worry her. 

“No, no. It’s far back enough that it doesn’t rest on the teeth, the roof of my mouth. There is a piercing I refuse to do that is a bar through the tip of the tongue. If you do it incorrectly you can cause severe nerve damage, and it’s known to chip teeth. But a regular piercing on your tongue isn’t much of a risk. Not in my experience.” He hummed. Again, he felt a little flustered at this one because the reason for the piercing was for aesthetics, yes… but. “Real talk? I thought it looked cool and there are… benefits to having one.”  At her raised brow he knew she wanted the proper answer, making him exhale deeply. “Uh- It’s like… It enhances oral sex. Some people think it feels better.” 

Harry was a self proclaimed pussy lover. He liked dicks just fine too, he didn’t limit himself, but there was just something about licking up a pretty cunt that had gotten dripping just for him. His hookups were short but there was always a longing to give more of that. It was something that plagued his fantasies, as shameful as he felt, thinking about the girl sitting right in front of him. 

Sitting between her thighs with his arm locked around her hips, keeping her nice and still despite the twitches she would give off involuntarily as his tongue swiped up her folds, nose bumping her clit as he greedily lapped her up. He could beg for the chance to have her sprawled out for him and her thighs locked around his head as he took his time tasting her. He had been very respectful and wasn’t planning on doing anything to make her uncomfortable, but she had asked. He wouldnt lie to her. 

“Oh!” She squeaked. “Damn it. See… I looked up tons of stuff about tattoos and nose piercings but I’m showing my lack of knowledge here.” A nervous giggle erupted, Harry noticing as she squeezed her thighs together. It was subtle- if he hadn’t been paying attention he wouldn’t have seen it. It was caught and he felt downright smug. She was thinking about it and obviously, she didn’t hate the idea. 

“S’alright, pet.” He replied, looking up to give her a smile. “You’re sweet. Not a problem to ask me things you want to know. You don’t have to know it all, m’happt yo teach you anything.” 

There was a slight shift, a heavier more charged energy in the room as Y/N sat quietly. She found Harry exceedingly handsome, his sex appeal not only oozing from his pores but his heart. She was trying very hard not to get ahead of herself here, knowing she definitely could fall into it if she allowed herself to do the thing she actually wanted. Shyness was her savior, at this point. 

They continued talking until he was finished, helping Y/N up and standing with her a moment to make sure she was steady. One too may clients passed out after standing up after a session and he didn’t want that to be her experience. Once she was all clear, he led her over to the mirror to look at her tattoo reflected in the glass. How it looked on her body. She looked it over with a wide smile, flexing her arm to mimic the movement he had told her about before to see the stem did indeed stay where it was supposed to be.

“Harry.. I can’t even thank you enough.” Her words were raspy, awe showing through as she let him wrap it up. He had given her the lecture, the talk about keeping it from the sun, the moisturizing it, not itching, the whole nine yards. She knew most of what he said, but she had still managed to be surprised at how much he seemed to care about the integrity of the tattoo. “It’s incredible. Everything I could have hoped for, both in the tattoo and the experience. I’m so happy with it.” Big eyes were shining up at him, giving him the most awed glint to them. Without warning, she tossed herself into his arms, wrapping them around hus shoulders to take him in for a hug. 

He froze for a moment, their embrace catching him off guard. She hadn’t seemed to initiate much touch except for last night when she was tipsy and leaning into him, so he had been surprised at her willingness to do so- but he wasn’t about to waste this. Arms wrapped around her torso, a chuckle leaving his throat as she squeezed herself to him all while being mindful of her tattoo.

She smelled really fucking good. A hint of sweet but defintely something floral. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she whispered thanks to him again, pulling back much too soon for his liking. She was beaming, a beam he had put on her face and a picture he wanted to photograph in his mind forever. He had made her smile like that. It had altered his breathing a little bit, watching as she gave him the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

Yeah, he was effectively fucked. 

“You don’t have t’thank me, Y/N. I’m really happy you chose me to do it. It makes me feel good that you trusted me enough even before we cleared things up.” He knew he would be making up for that for a long time. Not because she would hold it against him, but becaus he hated that his awkwardness had caused any sort of negative feeling for the sweet girl. 

“Of course I did. If anything, I knew you’d be professional.” There was a pause before she lightly nudged his foot with her own. “I do prefer us like this, though. I had a lot of fun talking to you.” He had interesting stories, despite being quieter than her, and his voice was utterly delectable. She would eat it up anytime. 

“Me as well.” He returned the shy smile to her, walking back towards his office. All her stuff was in there along with his own. Their hands bumped as they walked side by side, his heart rattling in it’s ribbed caged, the slight hook of her pinky as they entered the room making it pause before it was dropped. He had a lump in his throat, one that was begging him to ask for more from her, but it wasn’t the right time. 

The right time didn’t come until after they’d grabbed some food down the street. Playing a slight game of knocking feet under the table and gentle flirations, both of them having hated cheeks and in harry’s case, heated ears as they spoke softly to one another the entire time. It was far different than being out with their friends, his attention solely focused on her and the quieter atmosphere allowing her to hear his quieter chuckles and little hums he made in the middle of her sentences as a reply. He let her talk his ear off about her hunt for a certain eyeliner brand at the shops lately and how she’d made friends with employees who text her when it came in, she was only missing the Sapphire and Indigo variations. 

Harry sat and responded appropriately, even adding in some things, but he wa content to hear her sweet recalling of the baby penguins she wanted to go see at the museum desperately, her nosy next door neighbor, anything really. It was one of the best meals he’d ever had and he hated that it even had to end. 

He could see himself more than happy listening to her rambling every night as they ate. It was a bit shocking considering how much Harry loved his solitude and quiet, but Y/N just tickled a part of him that had never been open for access before. There was no way he could fumble this, no way he could waste an opportunity to take a chance on this. He had to man up and simply ask. 

The walk back to the shop was similar to the hallway, their hands knocking until Harry took initiative this time and let their pinkies link. Y/N continued talking, stumbling over her words once as she felt their fingers connect but her pace in words only increased. The smile wider. He took it as a good sign. The journey had been far too short for his liking, the fact he had to take his hand away from hers as she unlocked her car making him frown. Hands stuffed themselves in his pockets to keep from reaching from her again, watching her toss her bag to the passenger seat before turning to him. 

“Thank you for-” “Go on a date with me.” Harry’s words tumbled from his lips without being able to stop them, interrupting her mid sentence. Working up the nerve to ask her not allowing him to wait a second more or he would lose the confidence. “Shit- sorry. I meant, would you? Want to go om a date with me?” He watched as she blinked up at him, those pretty eyes rounded and shocked as her mouth opened and closed. It was his turn to ramble. “I had a really good time with you today, and I like you. I know I probably hurt your feelings in the past but I will make it up to you. I took you out tonight but this wasn’t a date- I just…” 

Oh, god. This was why he tended to stay the quiet and mysterious type. 

“Harry.” Y/N’s hands braced on his forearms, squeezing as she laughed through the utter of his name. “Harry. Relax. It’s okay. I… I would really, really like that.” She watched him deflate slightly from his tense stance, head tilting to the right. “I had an amazing time with you. You don’t have to make anything up to me at all. It was an accident. I’m sensitive. But I like you too.” The admittance was quieter than the rest of her words, shyer. A grown woman feeling like a kid all over again. He liked her. 

Liked liked her. 

“Yeah?” He asked again, “I’m really happy t’hear that. I wanted to ask you before we went to dinner but I got nervous.” His hand returned to anxiously rub the back of his neck, shooting her his own relieved smile. “I won’t let you regret it. I promise..”

He stepped forward, holding her car door open for her while getting closer to her. It was getting dark and she had stuff to fo tomorrow which she had told him about, her whole itinerary actually. It was- you guessed it- fucking cute. “Need you to get home safe, so text me when you walk in the door, and then we can plan our date. Sound like a plan?” 

Y/N nodded, not hesitating before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. This hug wasn less awkward, Harry’s hand falling to her back to rub gently a few times before she pulled back. He’d dwell on how nice she felt pressed against him later. Again, the girl decided to shock him, reaching up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek before sitting down in her driver’s seat. 

“Bye Harry. I can’t wait to talk to you again.” 

His cheek burned with the heat of her kiss the entire time he watched her drink off. It was cool but very much there as he drove home. The lipgloss stain burned yet again as soon as he got a text once he got inside his own place, shoes kicked off and arm over his head trying to relive the feeling of her lips on his skin yet again.

Y/N: I’m home, inkmaster :-) 

H: All in one piece, I hope.

He wasn’t. Surely, a tiny bit of his heart was still stuck in her palm. 

 Y/N: Yep, lost my sunglasses though. Think they’re in your office. Good thing I’ll be seeing you soon 

Y/N: So… our date?

[s1llydr3amscape]

Maybe it was the friends we made along the way!

My security breach cast re-imagined when we first got the posters and merch leaks!!! I changed them into ocs because after seeing their in game designs I fell in love <33333

Another reason why Vanny is my fave is because I don't have to design her clothes /j

Extras and ramblings under the cut :

Zoomed in because I drew them on the same canvas like a goober :

Many reasons why I chose to make the way it is are cause hehehehe

-I didn't like Roxy at first because off that funko leak being a reused model of Foxy. So I made her a hyena recolor using his model because I think they're cool, yet I still kept the fact she's the shortest because of Foxy in fnaf 1 being the shortest!!! And it did sorta happen with her being his replacement 😭She has short hair because I think one of her main appeals would be she would change up her hair every other week.

-Freddy is a moon bear because I miss Lefty. Also cuz I thought Fazbear Ent developed enough technology so that they could change colors during the night/dark like in the posters making them blacklight/neon. Also once again I miss Lefty and Also Nightmare. He had blue eyes freaky like that because I think FazEnt was developing new technologies to recognize guests by having their main stars test them out. And it did happen in the game so yay!!!

-I genuinely didn't think Bonnie would show up because off the leaks but at the time everyone designed their own version off him and so did I!!! I made him white and brown as a homage to Vannys help wanted mask. The blue streaks in his hair also relates to my Vanessa design. Reasons for this is because with how advanced the AI it was to trick them into thinking they were eachother friends. Why because the heartbreak would've been catastrophic.

-Chica didn't change much but I added brown because I love the color brown it is my top 1 color with purple following behind. Also because I love gradients I fucking love gradients you bet your ass if I add gradients I could <333 She has feather hair like that because off Big Bird I saw in a short fnaf sesame street horror yt video and that scared and gave me nightmares because of this one scene of a lady giving birth to his kid??? Idk it scared me alot. She's my favorite tho <3333

-Monty didn't change except he had circular glasses because I wanted him to match with Roxy as the newest additions to the Fazbear brand!!! Also man I wish one of them was a drummer but I couldn't decide between if Roxy or Monty would get it. I also didn't know Roxanne would be racing and gave her rock climbing. Reasons cause imagining her chasing you being able to climb walls would be scary. My only wish Is that I made his snout longer I want you to be able to hold it like a weapon

-They all have eyelashes because I think that is epic!!!

-Freddy is the tallest. Bonnie and Chica are the same height and Roxanne is the shortest

Might redraw them in my oc world version (if anyone would be interested it's basically also a robot story with my old fnaf oc's now turned rivals to Fazbear Entertainment) and not simplified but my other wips need me they are calling for me they are telling me to finish them and I must!!! Probably

And here's my older art after we got to see the game and the designs are wack oughhh :

They would've fought with my pink yellow blue Vanny design!!! Which is the only one I redesigned because I love Vanny to much... You can see her pre-design here and oughh Pink Vanny <3333

-If you look closely Vanny has a Dino looking tail!!! And that's because I thought hey imagine each time we defeated an animatronic she'd sew a piece off their body onto her suit! So when we killed Monty she'd scavenged and get his tail!!! With Chica she got her chicken feet!! And with Roxanne she gets her teeth!!!

-Why because I associate her with Pinkamena cupcakes so much. Also to add onto my previous statement with Bonnie looking like her old mask. She changed her suit in the final act to solidify herself as the bad guy (final boss) who had been using the animatronics for his own gain.

-Man I never draw Chica with her head bow now that I think abt it same with Vanny's whiskers god what was I thinking!!!

Also sorry they're oddly cropped I watermark my stuff to remember what year I made them in and my old username is bad 💀

[blueberryarchive]

—the sketch and the smaller eye; kth

Lonely man Kim Taehyung leads a fairly stable routine in his life away from civilization affected by an infection without a cure. Stability ends the day you arrive, no one knows how you got there, but one thing is for sure: Taehyung won't let you go.

🌿pairing; Artist!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

🌿word count; 8.1k

🌿tw; widower!tae, post-apocalitic scenario, mentions of disease, weight loss and death, very brief mention of arms, age gap (21 & 30-ish), smut (manhandling, whiNY Taehyung, edging, spanking, oral (f. receiving), creampie, dirty talk), gruesome details of the virus.

🌿themes; strangers to lovers, slow burning, cottage-core.

🌿inspired by; ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ ⁱⁿ ᵉⁿᵍˡⁱˢʰ ᵖˡˢ ᵇᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The walk all the way home was always one of his favorite things to do when it was hunting day, the way the wind danced between the dying leaves and made music inside the hollow trees, the sun setting with the most beautiful tones of pink. It always reminded him of the times he spent just drawing all alone until you came into his land.

The day was August 8th, the heat was overbearing and like all of the other days around the same time, probably four or five (he wouldn't know because his only clock died a year ago), Taehyung sat down in the shadow of an old oak tree that has been his only friend, besides his dog, since he came to this lonely and God-forgotten place, were he was blessed and cursed with solitude and the cruel nature.

He had a small tin box with all of his drawing supplies, broken pencils, a piece of eraser gum the size of a nail, and a reddish tint drying up in a baby food crystal jar. Every day he told himself that he was making more yellow with the few sunflowers in his backyard, but today of all days he actually stood up to look for the petals.

The flowers were right outside the kitchen window, the sun was going down, and they were hunched over, withered, and full of little flying butterflies. His calloused hands took a pair of petals, the most vibrant and alive.

The sudden sound of cracking leaves and the barking of his dog disturbed him.

Taehyung perfectly remembers the moment he saw your frightened eyes, the color of the sunset over your weak body clinging to a log, an improvised cane. Torn clothes, dry mouth like a corpse, wet hair for some reason. Did you cross the river?

The first reaction of both was primal, like two animals that didn't plan to meet. Taehyung only turned on the fireplace at night, only for a couple of hours, so as not to attract attention. 

So what were you doing there? Were you lost? Impossible, he was too far from civilization. Were you infected? The wolves would've eaten you by now. Either way, he didn't like the idea of someone new.

The petals sweated their amber ink on Taehyung's hand, you tried to maintain your position, your gaze... almost afraid to blink. The man was not afraid to take action, hand already inside his overall pocket. Without much, his hand raised a pistol, sleek and silver. He was pointing straight at your face, your hair in a ponytail revealing your exposed forehead, like an invitation to explode it with a bullet.

"No, please." You muttered. So soft and yet, Taehyung got scared hearing someone else's voice. It wasn't a growl, nor the crash of stones from the river, nor the rain, nor the cawing of crows, nor his own grunts when chopping wood, nor the barking from his old dog. "I'll go." You begged again, letting go of the log. Taehyung tensed, even more, hearing you again.

So soft and sad. So delicate when the world around was burning.

"Are you coming with someone else?" he growled, getting closer and looking around. The forest seemed quiet, and his dog would have warned him.

"No, just me."

"If you lie it'll be worse for you."

"I know." You lowered your head to avoid the black eye of the gun.

"Are you sick?" the question was simple. Taehyung was trying to look for signs of infection. He hadn't felt this fear since the last time he lost his wife to that fucking disease.

You denied it, slowly.

"Show me," he said with a lowered tone, calm eyes as you undressed as quickly as possible. No marks. Elbows, hands, neck, eyes. All clean. With a sigh from both, the barking stopped.

"Walk to the tree over there, and if you try to do anything funny I'm going to put every fucking bullet in your head," he said giving a simple condition. He started moving with you in front.

Without saying anything else, you both walked slowly to the trunk. The afternoon was already turning blue, cicadas were playing a tense melody. Your bare back revealed your vertebrae, hard balls under your skin looking as if it was going to break. You hugged yourself, trying to keep the heat of your body, perhaps even your modesty.

With a whistle, Frank appeared: an old dog with red eyes and floppy ears. Seeing the naked stranger, he growled loudly. Your hands began to tremble, the weapon and the animal made a cry of pain come out of you, a plea with tears falling down your ashy cheeks. But you didn't see a drop of mercy in Taehyung's eyes, you knew that having this kind of loneliness was not achieved without having to kill several from time to time.

The eyes of the man in front of you were unbending and cold, lips pressed into a thin line, thick hands gripping Frank's chain and his gun. Stains of watercolors and charcoal on his fingers.

"C'mon, buddy," he whispered and the dog came closer little by little to sniff your body. "Bend down." You obeyed.

The animal took its time sticking its wet nose into your hair and skin until it snorted as it sat down. Taehyung lowered the gun.

That was the beginning of your recovery, long days lying between rough, thick sheets. Yellowed pillows that smelled of Taehyung's hair, hand-rolled cigarettes on the nightstand. Every morning he would get up before the sun came up and carry his hunting artifacts over his shoulder. Frank stayed with you while you tried to kill time in the cabin.

You learned how to garden and cook, roll the cigars, and dry the tobacco in the sun. The books were plenty, but reading was an activity you only did if Taehyung was the one reading to you, he did it every night. Even when the fever was so high you couldn't keep up with the story.

When you were at your worst, he held your head to put you in one of his sweaters, and even left the crackling fire all night to keep you warm in the cold.

Every night he started, with a rough and tired voice, around 8 o'clock, to read you a chapter from a book of poems or letters; or the list of lost people in the old newspaper.

"I do it to keep me sane," he said. "I went a long period without saying a word, and I started to forget how to say them, my tongue used to get jammed." He explained to you while drawing an empty cup of tea next to you.

You could only tell him a couple of questions each night, he used to get tired very easily. The first two weeks you couldn't even pronounce two words before he started to lose his patience.

"You don't have to know anything about me," his eyebrows locked in a frown. "When you get better, you can go and it will be like we never met."

But now it has been three months, you think. You recovered pretty well, and you can do the chores while he's out. You try your best every day so he notices that you won't be a bother if he lets you stay.

He doesn't ask questions about how you came to be on this side of the river, and you thank him for that. The memories blurred in your mind, like a sketch that's been erased again and again. 

Taehyung get's home at sunset, you are outside breaking some newspapers into pieces. The notebooks he used to draw in were already full, so you decided to make him a new one. 

You are wearing a dress he found in an abandoned house, it was a teen size but he loves it. He doesn't know your age yet, but he knows you're probably in your early twenties. He loves when the sun is scorching hot and your only choice is to let your thighs and shoulders out while you cook and clean. The hem flows with the wind letting him see your bare ass while you put the paper to dry.

You two haven't had sex, you never gave him signs, maybe because he looked a little bit older. He never felt like he had to hide an inexistent lust, until a few weeks ago. 

Two, to be exact. 

You were in the nearest river. A flimsy white t-shirt, wine-drunk, and talking so much. You were so irksome with your questions. The cold water sticking the fabric to your body like marble while you asked about Taehyung's boring routine. Your babble was such, you started asking about him jerking off and how sex works in solitude.

The way you laughed made him blush with anger. Sketches he was trying to make from the water lilies turned into ones from your eyes. 

That day he had to take a cold shower in the river after leaving you by the fire in the house. His face was boiling red, tired of your babbling and hard as a log.

The idea of you making him horny made him mad for some reason; it made him feel like a high school boy, but it was natural. He had years without seeing a woman. And you were pretty. So pretty for no fucking reason.

He knew that being in his early thirties probably made him less attractive to you, he was a grumpy man, almost a caveman how he reacted to your ways. That's why he didn't try, not even think about it... not always.

Now you have him going to abandoned houses on the other side of the river, looking for things for you: like a small bottle of perfume, a broken mirror, and old photos of people who are probably dead by now. A way to show he cared without using words. 

When he got to the rock path, the crackle made you turn around, you were smiling like always, and his heart felt warm.

"I told you to do that earlier. The paper won't dry today," He grunted, acting more tired than he was so you leave everything behind and get near him. You get a cigar from a basket near you and light it for him. You pass it to him after taking a puff.

"But you can draw on one piece of paper."

"That's not how it works."

"It'll have to work."

Taehyung pressed his lips together, he knew you enjoyed arguing with him, but more than those few words would not come out of him. You rolled you eyes going back to hang the wet paper.

"I'm making dinner tonight," he muttered like ten minutes later and then silence again. Another cigar, the old Frank by his side while he watched the sunset disappear.

The reading hours were around six to seven, right after dinner. It was the same routine when you first stayed, and it is the same now: After dinner, he gets comfortable in bed, takes a cigarette from the nightstand, and with the gas lamp he lights the tip. Book in hand. 

The words he didn't say all day would overflow as he read chapter by chapter. In an appropriate tone, pauses at the commas, giving life to each character. A treat for the ears.

After looking for a book on the first floor, he entered the room and stood up, his eyes went to the corner where there was a broken mirror, and in its reflection, you were, combing your hair in a ponytail, so poorly done that it was better to leave it loose. But the strands that were floating in the air, in front of your eyes, made Taehyung's fingers tingle, wanting to take every strand and pull it towards him.

There was a heaviness in the air that early autumn night. The silence was thick, and the yellowish lamplight cast heavier shadows on every piece of furniture. Abrupt and defined as in a baroque painting.

The curve in which his eyes concentrated more were the ones that defined your waist and your stomach, how it bulged slightly like a hill stamped with the flowers of your skimpy dress.

"Turn around," you muttered, like you didn't care if he did it or not, as you started to remove your dress; snapping Taehyung out of the sketches he was drawing in his head. He went to open the window to let some of the heat out of the room, letting the smoke creep through the curtains.

"I think I know what I'm going to read to you today," he cleared his throat, looking down at his bare feet pacing anxiously across the room. The shadow of your silhouette moving on the floor, the bone-white nightgown falling on your curves, exposing one of Taehyung's weaknesses: the connection of your neck and your shoulders, subtle but lethal.

He wanted to press his face between and close his eyes, inhaling the scent of your skin. Rich and peachy, like when the trees have so much fruit that they start to ripen on the same tree.

"You haven't finished showing me the stamp book yet." You dropped on the bed.

"I'm already bored of it."

"Odd." you noticed, watching him bend down and open a suitcase under the bed. "And those?" As you approached you saw a collection of books.

They were small, wrinkled, and minimalist in cover. Some were yellowed papers seized by the red wax on the spine.

Taehyung snorted at the question and looked up, daring you to keep acting innocent. He knew that you knew every corner of the house.

"I want you to say it," you smiled.

"Force me."

"I want you to say that Taehyung, the hard-faced man, has a collection of erotic books under his bed."

"You already said it. I don't have the need."

"Why do you have it under the bed?"

"What are you talking about?" Taehyung moved the books until he found a small book in Spanish. The pink cover with a painting of a mischievous Renaissance woman smiling.

"Kept under the bed, in a suitcase. Like a secret."

"I'm not ashamed of reading erotica if that's what you assume." he closed the suitcase and dropped his body next to you. His head near your legs, yours lying on the opposite side.

"And why do you have it like they're illegal." you held the cigarette he offered you.

"Habits of a human who lived in a society, I suppose."

You inhale the cigarette while he searched for the short between his long fingers, the book opened softly. His thumb pressed down the middle of the pages.

The glass of wine had you sparkling, you still hadn't gotten used to the alcohol. You had not drunk in so long that you did not remember its effects. There was something on the tip of your tongue, a confession that couldn't wait, an itch that needed to be scratched.

Before you could speak, Taehyung let out a soft "Ah" as he found the story for the night.

"A man who came about five years ago translated this story by Anaïs Nin for me. When he found out that I painted, he told me that he had a story for me."

"What's it called?" Without realizing it, your hand began to caress Taehyung's leg.

"La Maja," he pronounced. "Like Goya's painting"

Your head fell back on the stacked pillows, Taehyung's lips moved as he read a homemade translation of the story.

"He pulled back the sheets that covered her and slowly lifted the silk nightgown. He was able to lift it over her breasts without her giving the slightest sign of awakening. When it was uncovered all over the woman's body, he contemplated it for as long as he wanted. Her arms were detached from her body; her breasts stretched out before his eyes like an offering. He was aroused by his desire but he did not dare to touch her. Instead, he brought paper and pencils, sat by her bedside, and took notes. As he worked, he had the sensation of caressing each of the perfect lines of the woman's body."

Taehyung's eyes would lift to yours after reading the paragraph, turning back to the page with embarrassment flushing his cheeks. The human habit of blushing when you want things so badly, he thought.

The smoke from the dying cigar between your fingers snaked through your hair and the softness of your chin. Taehyung was never more jealous of something so ephemeral.

He couldn't find where he had stayed and the silence became so loud that you could only do what was right.

"I followed you today."

"What?" Taehyung didn't understand, you had spoken so low that he almost didn't notice it.

"To the woods, when you left this morning."

When he closed the book, you knew that what little sweetness Kim showed you turned sour. 

"I have told you that you must stay here, with Frank. Safe." You both got up at the same time, you followed Taehyung looking for his gaze which he averted.

"I'm not asking you to keep me safe, Kim" you replied.

There was a pause as he pricked at his bottom lip. Was that in his pupils the sign of an offense? Taehyung clucked at you, turning around.

"Kim," you tried to fix it by brushing against his shoulder. "It's not that I'm a helpless deer, I know how to protect myself." You laughed to lighten the mood. Bad idea.

A question, like a small forgotten flame, reappeared in Taehyung's brain. Out of courtesy when you got sick in the first few weeks, he didn't ask where you came from, why you were alone, or how you came to cross the wide river that divided a civilization almost thousands of kilometers to the left. When politeness turned to infatuation, the question was no longer so important. He felt that he could trust you and that he had a new purpose besides survival: to keep you safe.

Fallacies.

"How did you come to find me?"

"What?" the smile faded from your face.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

Your eyes moved erratically in his gesture, a frown. Just like when you came in drenched that August. No trust.

"Don't know."

He just snorted denying, he didn't believe you, and that irritated you.

"Sure, of course."

"Do you think I'm lying to you?"

"I don't believe it, I know." His body moved from side to side, arranging books and picking things up off the ground.

Your flushed face and clenched fists. Boiling alcohol in your veins.

"Well, you can go to hell with your lonely man farce."

"OK." Taehyung sighed daring you to continue insulting him.

"You do know that things aren't as horrible as at the start of the pandemic anymore, right?"

"Oh yeah?" His eyes widened in theatrical surprise.

"The infected are controlled and-," Seeing how he continued to feign interest, you pushed him aside and grabbed your dress from the floor, beginning to change. Tears accumulated without permission in your eyes. "Whatever," you mumbled.

"Then you do know something about your past."

"Fuck you, Kim."

"No, because you lied to me and now you say things like how you know how to defend yourself in a forest full of wild wolves and that you traveled several kilometers by water and land to get here. And you want me not to ask questions about it." He moved closer to you so close that he could see the torment in your eyes.

"Exactly." You muttered putting on your garden boots.

"That request is absurd and you know it." his laugh was careless. He was drunk too.

"I know."

You both stared at each other, your hair was no longer tied up and its shadow hid both of your features under its shadow. Your lips parted at the sight of his.

"I don't remember how I got to this place," you whispered, a tear fell to your cheek and you cursed how sensitive alcohol made you. You saw how Taehyung's face softened in the presence of your pain. "I swear I would have told you if I knew."

Taehyung swallowed hard and looked out the window. He hated seeing others cry, he hated when his wife did it, and he hates seeing it now in your lost gaze. There was something in the way you were, in the quality of your emotions and your hope in everything that reminded him so much of her. His wife died at the same age you were.

Taehyung and her were both idiots and thought that living far away was all it took to escape the infection.

It was stupid of him to let her go hunting alone that day, he shouldn't have let a simple fever keep him in bed when she was out there.

He spent years waiting for her to come back. Waiting for some afternoon that he will hear her quick steps coming down the gravel road. Much later, he found a piece of her shirt floating on the bank of a river.

Taehyung closed his eyes and nodded. It was dangerous to let you stay, he still didn't fully trust you. But what was the use of being alone so much when he only waited for the next day and the day after until one day he could die naturally?

Your body tensed as his hand rose to sink into your hair and kiss your forehead. So delicate, without causing any noise.

"Sleep well," he whispered leaving the book on the table. His chest hurt with the immense amount of feelings you make him feel in one day.

It's overbearing and he loved it. But his poor soul needed time.

For the first time in all that time together, he decided to sleep on the first floor.

You didn't know what to say, you were already ready for him to just ask you to leave. So you were thankful he actually just…left.

When the door creaked shut, you let loneliness engulf you. You cried, glued to the pillow like a child. Of relief, of uncertainty, for that kiss.

The days are long when there is nothing to say. When you don't look at him, when you ignore him with your unsubtle ways: you leave your clothes poorly folded, you don't finish the dishes he makes for you, your cigarettes are badly rolled, and you punish him by wearing those shirts that reveal your cleavage.

If you knew what you did to him, would you take advantage of him? Would he hate it?

Taehyung can feel your eyes on his back as he tries to light the fireplace at night, the cold is cruel in the mountains, even crueler than the tension in the small living room. You find yourself sitting watching the flame grow and grow, Taehyung trying to appear as calm as possible as if he didn't have the gears of his brain fed up trying to figure out how to talk to you.

Apart from a 'what do you want for dinner?', a 'yes' or a 'no'.

He felt he talked more with poor Frank, who slept about eighteen hours a day.

He cleared his throat at the smoke and held up his hand for more newspaper. You gave it instantly. And suddenly, a miracle: for the first time in weeks, your voice.

"Tomorrow is my birthday," you said embarrassedly, arms crossed.

With a tight-lipped smile on Kim's mouth, he nodded and looked into your tired eyes.

Your voice was still just as sweet and calm, you wanted to try to sound weary. But he noticed every afternoon when he came home from hunting, the way you moved through the little orchard and sang while you bathed Frank. Your laughter was his antidote, it healed his tiredness and the ache of his soul.

"We should celebrate it." He proposed, but you instantly denied it.

"I want you to take me."

"What do you mean?" he blushed, looking deep into your eyes.

"Take me somewhere."

Taehyung dropped the newspaper on the fire. He sighed softly, (not in relief, but disappointed) and sat in the old chair in the corner, legs apart as he rolled a cigarette.

"Where do you want to go?"

"To the house on top." you pointed east.

"How do you know there's a house on top?"

"Because I saw it in your drawings." your pupils let you see its shine for the first time in weeks. The cold made you look so beautiful. The little contact he had with you, he missed it so much.

Your cheeks took on color with the coming of winter, your lips like two slices of ripe fruit, red and full of juice. "And I found your binoculars in the warehouse."

"Mm," he couldn't even get mad at you and your insatiable curiosity. He was glad to hear you. Besides, who was he to deny you going up to that abandoned mansion, even when fear consumed him that they would attack you?

"Sure, we'll go." you let the corner of your lips rise, Taehyung feigned seriousness. "But it can't be tomorrow. We need at least two days of walking to get there, and we have to prepare."

You licked your lips and got up, letting the cloth that wrapped you from head to toe fall to your shoulders. You raised your arms, and Taehyung frowned, not understanding the gesture.

"Come here, it's almost twelve, and I'm going to be twenty-one."

Although they both knew that no clock gave them a certain time, Kim didn't care and you less. Leaving the cigarette next to him, he stood up and awkwardly let his strong arms swallow you, your head on his chest.

The hug was a thank you from you, but with just a few more seconds, you realized that Taehyung didn't want to let go. You opened your eyes, he could feel your confusion.

"Just-" he stammered, tensing his arms a little more to bring you closer to the warmth of his body. Silence.

Rich and peachy.

"What?"

"No, nevermind."

"Kim." you wanted to look at his eyes but didn't let you.

"I haven't hugged anyone in years." he murmured, a sigh of relief.

The confession made your chest sink. The breathing of the man in your arms was soft and ragged. As if he was nervous.

"Can you play with my hair?" he hummed, timid and needy, warming your shoulder with his breath; chills covering your skin.

You let your fingers explore his fluffy hair, the little ripples covering your palm and fingertips. You heard another sigh from him and felt how his arms slid to hug the sides of your waist.

"Feels good?" you dared to ask, breathing the musk on his jacket. He just nodded longingly, closed eyes and brows knitted; the crackle of the fire in the fireplace melting his heart.

Your throat was dry, and your lips parted, God knows you wanted to enjoy that hug, how Taehyung bent his body slightly to hide his head in your neck. Perhaps it was the lack of contact or the fire in the fireplace, but your body bubbled over a slow fire with each exhale that collided with your neck.

"Tae-" you swallowed and grabbed his shoulders so he could see you.

The drunkenness in the eyes of the man in front of you was so short but so sweet. Discovering his attitude, he pricked the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.

"Sorry, don't worry about the trip. We can start packing tomorrow."

"I think I remember some of what happened to me."

"Oh." His eyes widened, gesturing as he tried to ask you to explain. You loved the gestures that came out of Taehyung when he didn't know the protocol of conversations. It wasn't 'thank you', but a tightening of the lips into a brief smile; no 'Don't move' when he painted but a little grunt and a deny.

You both took a seat on the furniture and got as close as possible, there was no one around, but this was how both of you got used to talking to each other. Whispers, watching each other's lips and laughter, when it was intended, with the hand on the mouth.

"I remember a boat, I remember several women and two men," you murmured, your eyes tilted into the fire. "A group came on another boat and threw us on the shore, they beat the men so much that they died and left the women to suffer."

Kim bit the inside of his cheek, he knew the day you would remember your past would be difficult. The beginning of the lethal virus was so surreal for him.

"I don't remember their faces much, just their hair. I remember…one feverish night, the women covered me with a blue coat that they had taken from one of the men." your hand trembled, and Taehyung took it without hesitating. "When I woke up, they were all in stage two."

Stage two of the virus was when their bodies began to slow down, sleep being the main activity, even at times when they needed to urinate. Your body didn't feel like getting up.

Taehyung remembers how one of his college classmates slept fully for two days, he opened his eyes when called but closed them instantly.

"When I saw them I thought the same thing was going to happen to me, apparently they killed an infected animal and ate it among themselves without giving me a piece. I don't blame them. I also thought the fever was going to kill me that night," you shrugged. "When I woke up I found trash, fruit, and headless bugs on the floor. The virus searched for everything it could to feed before going into coma…, and then, um-"

Your gaze drifted away, as if you saw the women sprawled on their backs with their mouths open and sunken eyes on the cabin rug.

"Their bodies started to swell, their chests and stomachs and throats. The eggs-" you denied and Taehyung felt chills. "They began to grow and incubate, I cried for hours and hours in silence, sitting on a log." your voice quivered. "I crossed the river at low tide, and stayed on the rocks to wait."

"You were sent to explore the area. You were the same as I was years ago." Taehyung bit his lip, squeezing your hand.

"I don't understand."

"I thought they didn't send scouts to this area anymore. The infection is so old I thought they wouldn't need any more information."

"What do you mean when you say you were the same?" You frowned and stared at him.

"I was a soldier, my family needed money, and the doctors found a way to make us think they could save my dad from the virus." the memories made his tense neck move involuntarily. "They sent me to this side to find information about the virus, the source."

"You and how many others?"

Taehyung shook his head with a sad smile. Maybe he was even making up the story of his father getting sick, who knows at this point?

"I still don't remember. I just know that I kept walking and walking wit this girl by my side,until we found this hill, and even she disappeared."

They both fell silent. Taehyung had already told you about the disappearance of his wife, unlike other topics, this was the one that seemed like a fable. There were no traces, like smoke that vanished on a sunset.

You can see on his eyes that ache every time he mentions her; you wish you could lick his old wounds, not to cure them, but to soothe the pain.

The way he was holding your hand and the fire trembling on his tan skin made him look like an angel. An untamed one leaves instead of feathers, strong arms to carry the world around him.

You couldn't take it anymore.

"Taehyung," you called, and he didn't have to move because your hand took him by surprise. Guiding him to your hungry lips.

He moaned lowly, making his free hand into a fist to control the euphoria that was running through his body. The wet sound of your mouths devouring each other, he didn't know how much he needed that, the warmth of your tongue licking his lips, the little pant coming out of your strawberry lips.

Oh, how much he hated the fact that he was getting hard just from a kiss, but how couldn't he, good God? You were so delicious.

He snatched his hand from yours and took both of your hands to squeeze above your head. Your back arched, and you mewled as you felt his hand squeeze your wrists.

Taehyung's eyes flickered to your face. Was he doubting what he was doing? Did you do something wrong?

"If you want to stop-"

"No," he growled desperately. With ease, his free hand grabbed the hair at the nape of your neck and kissed you again, clashing teeth.

"Slow down, Kim." you gasped as he devoured your neck, covering in saliva the fabric of the coat that covered you, almost tearing it apart.

Your hand explored his corduroy pants until it reached the tight bulge against his thigh.

"No. I don't want to," he screeched as he watched what you were doing. "Please, I'm too sensitive right now." It was a plea for you to let him enjoy touching you for a few more minutes, his glassy eyes and red lips.

You were cruel, and God, how he hated you for that. You chuckled low and spread your legs to climb into his lap. The sudden movement knocked the air out of him, hands on either side of the couch.

In one sitting, you were pressing his cock against your clothed pussy.

"Oh no, please. Let me-," his hands went to his mouth, squeezing it hard, the words coming out muffled.

With so few moans he had you addicted to his susceptibility. To his droopy eyes and his angelic whimpers over every little thing you did.

"Please," he asked again but it was in vain when you started moving back and forth and licking his neck. "Fuck me, i can't. Baby-" he mumbled rolling his eyes, reaching heaven with so little. The 'baby' scaped again and again from his lips until it died out.

It was embarrassing, but so sublime.

You loved it. No. You became obsessed.

When he finished, you could feel the wetness on his thigh. You laughed again, taking his face in your fingers; he hung from your fingertips like a puppet. His chin resting on them.

"You look so cute when you're sweaty in the middle of a blizzard," you said. He closed his eyes, enjoying the compliment.

Without saying anything else, leaving a wet spot on top of his zipper and his mouth open; you got up and went up the rustic stairs.

You were going to be the death of him.

The morning arrives quietly and with the sun coming in gently through the windows, you are grateful that the snow has stopped as you get up to put on your socks. Frank was sleeping between woolen sheets in the closet. When he heard you calling him he opened his eyes and lazily moved his thick tail.

The bed was made on Taehyung's side. Last night you hardly slept thinking about what you two had done in the living room, you waited anxiously for him to go to the room to finish what you had started, but you fell asleep waiting for him.

Maybe he was upset because you rushed him or he was embarrassed. Either way, you could still feel the moisture your pussy had let out just thinking about his face coming. Like a broken record, just as his pelvis raised to make one last contact with your clit.

You sighed and let the cool water calm your arousal. The small mirror showed your reflection, you were pale. Since the sun doesn't rise so often, you feel like you're withering. The tinting of your cheeks was already disappearing.

Your eyes were guided to the small photo pasted on the mirror, it was an ID with your face. The ink on the image was fading, with your name and date of birth right next to it.

It was the only thing you had for sure, maybe your face wasn't even that one. You returned to your reflection and began to notice every little detail: the dark circles under your eyes and the dry lips from biting them so much, the slightly yellowish teeth, and the eye that was smaller than the other. 

That's new, you thought. Only if you looked hard enough could you see how your right eye involuntarily closed a little more than the other, the more you looked at it in the mirror, the more obvious it was.

The sound of a pot falling followed by a grunt made you snap out of your morning exam. You walked quickly to the stairs going down in a hurry.

You were surprised to see Taehyung in the kitchen, his hands covered in whipped cream and the sweet smell of freshly baked bread. A small tight smile apologizing for waking you up.

"Uh," he wiped his hands clean and leaned closer to you, placing an awkward kiss on your forehead. "Happy Birthday."

"Thank you." You smiled softly, his hand found yours to guide you to the rustic table that he had made years ago, it was heavy and robust. It combined with everything that was seen in that kitchen, small details you had done here and there, but the smell of oak and the thick fabric of the curtains and the tablecloth were essentially Taehyung.

"I made you breakfast. You must eat it all or I'm really going to stop talking to you for a month."

As if he could.

"Because?"

"I spent all night trying to make whipped cream, found a book in the stack and it took me almost a dozen eggs to get it right."

"That's where you were last night." You smiled and he tensed, embarrassment painting his cheeks red. "Did you need a book to know how to follow our...?" You made an obscene gesture that made Taehyung turn to finish breakfast.

"You are so intense in the mornings."

"You've stopped smoking in the morning, have you noticed?"

Taehyung frowned. "It's true."

"I annoy you so much you don't need the nicotine to wake up."

"If that achievement makes you happy, go ahead." He crossed his legs as he sat down next to you. "Bon appétit."

You looked in front of you, on your plate was a piece of freshly baked bread toasted in the color of the sun. The whipped cream was smooth and slightly eggy, with peach slices decorated on top creating an attempt at a flower. The smell was intoxicating and your mouth watered from it.

Taehyung's chest swelled with joy as you took the first bite and inhaled. You looked at him tenderly. That human habit of food being the perfect language to show love without touching.

"It's good," you agreed taking another bite. "Did you try it?"

Taehyung denied raising his hand to ask you to continue tasting.

"I have something else for you," he said before you took another bite. You could see and hear in the silence of the kitchen how his foot bounced with eagerness to show you the other things.

Taehyung took a paper bag from his jacket hanging on the door and put it on your lap. His hands didn't let you open the material, kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"Slow down, Kim. For God's sake." you laughed looking at him. He imitated you.

"Sorry, it's just that I've been saving this for a long time."

You couldn't stop seeing him, it was impossible how much you loved him in such a short time. You looked down at your lap as he lowered your chin with his hand.

Inside the paper were many trinkets, colorful and very varied. Buttons, an old lighter with a rose carved on it, a ring in the shape of a butterfly, a deep red dried ink, and underneath it all the pale lace of a lingerie set.

You smiled as you put everything else aside and looked at the pieces in detail.

"Isn't there a more subtle way of saying you want to fuck me?" you joked

Taehyung didn't laugh, again he was looking at you with nervous eyes.

"I want to give you a portrait."

You put the lingerie on the table and looked at him. You knew that his painting materials were becoming more and more scarce. You denied it instantly.

"Don't worry, I'll use some oils that I have saved, they are in perfect condition and I want to use them with you." he rose clutching your face in his hands, like something ethereal. How could he see you in the morning and make you feel so lovely?

"I want to paint your lips," he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, "And your eyes."

"Even when one is smaller?"

He chuckled slightly at your sweet question.

"Especially the smaller one."

His hand grabbed the last bite of toast and opened your mouth with his thumb, delicately inserting it. "I told you to eat it all." his face was serious.

His thumb began to smear all the cream that remained in the corners of your mouth, pressing your lips while your tongue tried to lick his fingers.

"That is my girl." he hummed cocking his head at you.

Your toes tensed when you heard him say that.

"Open up," he commanded and you obeyed, opening your mouth to remove the sticky cream from his finger. He swallowedwhen he saw you lick every drop.

Your beautiful face, your messy hair, and your mouth covered in peach juices and whipped cream. So sweet and erotic that it made his stomach clench with the urge to eat you.

"I would like you to paint me in the summer, though."

"Because?"

"Because that way I could return the color to my cheeks, to see myself more..." you didn't know what the word was.

Taehyung could have cared less.

"Fine." he sighed and tossed the plate to the side with a crash. Suddenly, you were in his arms, he laid you down gently on the wood of the table.

"Tae?" a squeal came from you when you felt the cold in your pussy, Taehyung ripped your panties and began to rub his digits on your clit with such delicacy.

"Shh," he responded, grabbing the chair to walk over to the table and sit down. With one hand he brought your body closer to his face and began to run his tongue through your folds.

This is what he wanted to do last night and you didn't let him.

Your legs began to shake and he looked up through narrowed eyes. Your surprised face was so funny, it almost made him want to let you cum as fast as you let him.

"Spread your legs, let me see you." there was something so obscene about the way his voice deepened. He embarrassed you. "Aren't you going to let me eat you?"

You didn't know what to say.

"What happened that pretty girl who wouldn't shut the fuck up, huh?" His wet lips kissed your entrance with each word. "Where are your smart answers and the fucking questions about how I jerk off?" With one hand he hit your clit and you whimpered. "There it is." he smiled.

"God," you moaned so loud trying to get your nightgown down, it hurt so good. Taehyung squeezed your wrists with one hand and started devouring you again, your juices flowing on his nose and his tongue and you knew how much he liked it by the way he growled and bit the inside of your thigh.

It hurt but you couldn't stop moaning, your hands turning into claws from the tension wanting to grab his tangled hair, to see his face covered with it in a transparent and shiny layer.

"Atta, girl," he inhaled, snapping back. "Look at you," he smiled at you as he licked the edges of his lips. "The color is returning to your cheeks."

"What?" You stuttered before you felt how his hand collided with your ass. You screamed biting your lip.

"Come here."

His hand carried you to help your weak legs. With his hands under your armpits, he led you to the nearest wall.

"Get naked, pet."

"It's cold."

"Still?" Taehyung asked confused and piled the fabric of your dress in his hand until he found your wet pussy again. Without saying much, he inserted two fingers, curling the tips.

"More," you whispered, you were short of breath and you felt like you were in another cosmic plane with the long fingers of the man behind you.

His other hand began stroking your tummy until it reached your neck, squeezing gently. Hearing your sweet request, he laughed.

"You're a mess and I haven't even fucked you. Are you sure?"

You nodded awkwardly, your head pressed against the wall. A third finger was unexpected and burned.

"You're so wet, it's not fair." Kim sighed. "I want to do everything for you but you won't let me with that little body of yours."

"Mm," was all you could answer, your tongue was heavy and the knot under your stomach had you seeing stars.

"Those short dresses and the laughter and the erotic books and your perfect tits." he moaned turning you around to remove your dress.

Seeing your face again, Taehyung made up his mind; he couldn't take it anymore. Whipped cream decorated your cheek and your open mouth.

"Are you still cold?" His eyes saw you straight into your soul. You denied hugging his neck, hitting your lips with his.

If you didn't kiss him you felt like you were going to implode. His furrowed brows and his broad shoulders, the way he'd talk dirty to you but he'd kiss your shoulder calming your nerves.

There it was again, that tickle in your throat of saying things at the wrong time.

Shut me up with kisses, you thought, shut me up by sealing your lips with mine.

"More." Now it was Taehyung's turn to ask, moaning as he felt how your naked body hung from his waist.

He quickly lowered his pants until he took it off completely. Then his coat.

"Down," he murmured kissing you one last time crashing your body into the wall.

With one hand you grabbed his cock and started to move your hand. A cry came from him and you both nearly fell to the ground in a crash. Taehyung's legs failing from the sudden touch.

You laughed at Taehyung's irate gesture.

"In four. Now," he barked, after kissing you softly. "I want to fuck you, I don't want games anymore, 'kay?"

You nodded drunkenly at the way he spoke to you.

You stopped smiling when he repositioned you like a doll on your knees and hands.

You arched your back as you felt the tip stretch your entrance, you closed your eyes in pure pleasure. The sting was unbelievable, perfect.

"Mmhm," Taehyung ran his finger down your back, "Let me listen to you, love."

How can he call you that without melting?

You pushed yourself into him until your ass touched his pelvis. You both moaned each other's name.

"Fuck," he mumbled, grabbing both sides of your waist to guide your movements. The sounds that filled the kitchen were indecent, your cream accumulated at the base of his cock and your moans drove him crazy.

Yes, he was like a schoolboy when it came to you, he couldn't see your cleavage without wanting to touch himself or look at your lips without wanting to bite them so badly that they bled. You were in addition to his antidote, his new favorite morbidity.

"Atta girl, squeeze me more," he hissed at you slowing his pace down. His moans turned to whimpers as you began to feel the cum dripping down your thighs. You were about to cum and he could feel it. "Let me feel those walls, baby. Cum for me."

You lifted your upper body so you could move against him and with two brushes of his fingers on your puffy clit you began to scream his name letting your face fall into your hands.

You both panted hard, abruptly, Taehyung pulled his cock out, revealing how his cum came out of you. God, he prays that this is the one that knocks you up.

Getting up, he grabbed your delicate body and took you to the sofa, lit the fireplace, and left you alone for a few minutes. When he returned he brought with him a blank canvas the length of his forearm and a couple of charcoal pencils.

The afterglow had your cheeks with the most beautiful tint. Flushed and plump lips from biting it so much. You let your hair do what it wants, just how he likes it and you smiled at him when he sat down in front of you. You squinted your eyes when you smiled and his shoulders relaxed.

"Stay still, please," he whispered while he took a pencil in his hands.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Open Mic Night

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  Soldier Boy and the reader go to a bar on a double date with Hughie and Annie. This takes place beyond season three in alternate universe. Reader is a supe.  (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Fluff, Age Difference, Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Established Relationship

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ just to be sure because this fic contains dude being super creepy and sleazy, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, references to past sex, and Soldier Boy. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. This is my first time writing for Soldier Boy, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Masterlist

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Music swung low and heavy over the crowded bar from the band on the stage that dominated the central wall of the building. Speakers stood like stoic watchmen, thumping and blasting the haunting music on each side of the stage. Spotlights stung the air, spewing colors of orange, yellow, and green onto the figures that writhed on stage.

It was open mic night. That much was inferred from the collection of mismatched people swarming the edge of the stage where a bouncer stood holding a black clip board.

Each one pushed and shoved, trying to shout over the death march ballad flowing from the lead singers mouth and threatening one another with musical instruments clutched in their hands.

The song is an odd choice. You thought to yourself noting the outfit of the lead singer. He was wearing a bright red and yellow pinstriped suit that clashed with bright pink hair that fell past his waist and was braided away from his face.

How does it not get caught in his guitar?

You were still standing just inside the doorway, staring beyond Hughie to watch the lead singer gyrate and writhe against the standing microphone.

You glance over at Ben. He’s hovering by your right elbow, mouth turned down in disgust, but even frowning he looks just as handsome as ever. His dark hair lies in soft waves over his brow, he trimmed his beard so that it’s more of a dusting over his cheeks and chin, he’s wearing a black t-shirt that makes his eyes a dangerous bright green and a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. Even without his suit he looks flawless, every bit the hero that people believed him to be.

“I don’t understand music nowadays.” Ben continues to stare at the lead singer. "It used to make sense."

“Isn’t he talented?” You laugh elbowing Ben in the side. “Aren’t you glad we let Annie pick the place?”

“I definitely am.” Hughie responds. “I think my life has been enriched by watching that man hump the microphone.”

“Oh definitely.” Annie adds.

“Do you think he’d sign my butt?” You ask enthusiastically. “I carry a sharpie with me at all times just for this possibility.”

“Y/n-“ Annie snorts.

“What?” Ben snaps, turning to look down at you. His eyes are narrowed in jealousy and confusion.

“I’m only kidding Gramps.” Your hand entwines with his. “You’re the only one who gets to see it.”

He doesn’t look pleased, but the nickname you assigned him when you first met often makes him angry.

"Don't fucking call me that." Ben mutters.

“You know you love it.” You whisper back.

“Ew. So don’t need that image-“ Hughie makes a face.

“I don’t need to hear it from you. When we all lived in that safe house and you and Annie had ‘alone time’ I wanted to wash my ears out with soap. Y’all could at least have gone to a room on the other side of the apartment, not to mention Annie took out the power every time.”

“You have super hearing Y/n.” Annie’s face flushes. “And you and Ben weren't exactly quiet either.”

"I won't apologize for that." You shrug.

Someone comes in the double doors behind you and jostles past you. You stumble into Ben’s chest, who steadies you with a hand on your waist. The man doesn't turn around to apologize, instead he continues to walk towards the giant wooden bar on the left side of the room.

You ignore the urge to haul him back by the back of the shirt and make him apologize and one look up at Ben lets you know that he's thinking the exact same thing.

Ben watches the man’s retreating figure murderously and opens his mouth, but before he yells something, you squeeze his hand. Ben's gaze drops to you, anger burning behind his green eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s busy and there’s a lot of people. It happens.” You whisper trying to bring him some comfort.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the double date. It wasn’t that he hated Hughie or Annie, you think it was because after a long day he’d rather spend time with you than keep up appearances. When Annie suggested it, it had seemed like a good idea but now standing here in the overcrowded bar it was overwhelming. Ben and you had been on dates just the two of you in a bar before, but it wasn’t nearly as loud or as crowded as this one. You spent the night in one of the quiet booths in the corner, his arm wrapped around you while you listened to the music coming from the juke box, music that Ben actually recognized. Sometimes you think he liked quiet restaurants more, where he could breathe, and relax in a booth next to you. You think being around too many people activated his PTSD.

Ben frowns, but tightens his hand on your hip.

Sometimes you thought that you being there helped. As much as Ben didn't like to admit his feelings, you noticed that his actions spoke more. The way that he let you hold on to his arm or the way that his hand often drifted to your waist when in public made you believe that Ben did depend on having you with him. Plus he never seemed to want to let you go out of the apartment alone. Even with something as mundane as grocery shopping, Ben would come with you. And despite him sighing each time you walked down an aisle and complaining under his breath, Ben wouldn't stay at the apartment when you told him to.

Plus there were the mornings when you woke up before him and noticed how he pulled you to him in his sleep or the mornings when he woke up first and didn’t push you away, instead he liked having your head on his chest watching your gentle breath.

However, the look in his eyes as he gazed around the room at the crowd was not calm or collected, it was bordering on manic. He looked almost like he wanted to pick you up and move you to the corner, caging you in and fighting off anybody who tried to get close to you.

“Hey we are going to go get drinks. Why don’t you guys find us a place to sit?” You say to Annie.

Maybe I need to talk to him alone.

“Sure.” She doesn’t sense Ben’s discomfort and pulls Hughie in the direction of an empty booth that lines the wall opposite the bar.

You gently lead Ben through the crowds, past the bar to a small alcove where the restrooms are.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Yeah?" Ben raises his eyebrow and you can imagine his thoughts.

Probably revolving around the idea that he's not a pussy and that he's not afraid of anything.

Sometimes you hated that Ben was so guarded and that his usual emotions circled around borderline toxic masculinity, annoyance, and anger. Well, until you started dating. At the beginning Ben had been nicer to you than anyone else, which meant those three emotions appeared less when you were around. But now, you were slowly coaxing him out of his tough exterior to get him to open up more, difficult, but not impossible.

You knew it was only a matter of time until he opened up more to you. In the few months you had been dating he was already doing better than when you first met- when there was a constant parade of women through the apartment and he tried his upmost to get in your pants. 

“Because if you’re not we can leave right now. I can tell Annie that I’m having bad cramps or something and we can go home. Get a pizza delivered or something? Watch one of your old films?” You look into his face, trying to read his expression, but Ben has mastered the art of hiding his emotions. An infuriating skill, because you prided yourself on being able to read people.

“I’m fine.”

“Ben-“

“I promise I’m fucking fine.” He snaps.  His broad figure blocks the view of the singer on stage who has begun to gyrate again.

You hoped the song would be over soon. 

Despite his tone, it didn't make you angry. You knew that he tended to slip into annoyance when he was afraid to tell you what he really thought.

He doesn’t look fine. His eyebrows are pulled down low over his eyes and his mouth is turned down in a frown.

“I’m serious. I won’t be mad if you just want to go home, just the two of us. Being out is supposed to be fun and if you’re not having fun-“

“I swear I’m having as much fucking fun as I can listening to terrible music.” He doesn’t smile.

You release his hand and your fingertips raise to brush back some of his dark locks that have fallen into his eyes. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I love you-“

 He sighs leaning into your touch.

“I know you think that you have to do this for me, but I’m okay with just going. I know you don’t like crowds or people.” You smile at him, putting as much love and comfort as you can into your tone.

“I’m okay y/n.”

You search his gaze for the lie, trying to uncover how he feels, but you find nothing. “Okay.”

You arch upwards to kiss him hoping that it will relieve some of the tension he was holding in his muscular shoulders.

To say it works is an understatement. As soon as your lips touch his, he backs you against the wall and continues to kiss you feverishly, his hand finding your waist.

I guess that’s one way to channel all that nervous energy.

Ben’s hand begins to sweep lower along your back to grab your butt and bring your leg up over his hip, holding you up against him so you don't have to stretch as far to kiss him. It makes you smile into his mouth, knowing that he was doing that for you, that he cared enough to make sure you were comfortable.

“Ben-“ You breathe.

“What?” He smirks at you. “Didn’t you want me to have a good time?”

“Well yes but-“

“You aren’t having a good time?”

“Ben-"

“No? I think I can make you have a good time, a few times before Hughie and Annie notice we're gone.” He begins to nudge you backward in the direction of the bathroom.

“No.” You giggle pushing against his muscular chest, but he doesn’t move.

“Come on doll. Don’t you want me to enjoy myself?” Ben pouts, before bringing his lips down to your ear. "I definitely think you'd enjoy yourself." A shiver travels down your spine. "That's my girl." He smirks, as he begins to kiss your neck again.

“Ben, I do want you to enjoy yourself, but I also don't want to have a good time in the bathroom at a bar.”

“Didn’t stop us last time.” He arches a brow.

“That was much cleaner and we weren’t at a bar with two of our friends.”

Ben frowns at you.

“How about you get me a little drunk, we dance for a bit, and then you get to take me home.” You press a kiss just under his ear, tangling your hands in his hair.

“Or we go into the bathroom for 10 minutes then you get me drunk enough to dance and then you get to take me home.” His hand tightens just under your thigh, rubbing his thumb against your soft jeans.

“Ben.”

“You know you want to.” He grins wolfishly. “Have I told you how sexy you look?”

He didn’t have to say it. You were wearing a green top that showed a little more cleavage than usual and your best pair of jeans that hugged your curves. The same pair of jeans that usually made Ben handsy. You had also spent an inordinate amount of time curling your hair before you left the apartment. Plus the green was exactly the same color as his suit, something that Ben loved was when you wore his color or his clothes.

“You have, several times. And I do, but please I don’t want to when our friends are out there waiting for us.”

He sighs, knowing that he’s lost. “Fine.”

Ben reluctantly lowers your legs to the ground, but you kiss him gently on the mouth to kiss away the frown that replaces the seductive smirk he had moments ago.

“Go on. I’m going to go to the bathroom.” He steps around you.

“What?”

“I have to take a piss. Go on get the drinks. I’m gonna need a lot of them to get through that fucking music.”

“Beer?”

“Beer and a whiskey.” Ben winks as he closes the door behind him.

You take in a deep breath to cool down from whatever almost happened, but you saw your ability to say no as a personal victory. Ben was usually able to coax you into doing whatever he wanted.

You hate how easily he won.

You begin the slow trek back to the bar, weaving in and out of the people trying to get closer to the stage or just dancing along to the music. The previous band was gone, replaced by a man wearing a fedora and playing a saxophone. The melody was smooth, and reminded you of what you father used to listen to on long days after work.

Ben would like this song. You think to yourself. You suddenly wished that he was here so he could hold you and sway along to the music, but you knew that getting drinks was equally important.

It would probably take at least two glasses of whiskey to get him out on the dance floor.

You maneuver yourself between two people sitting on stools to talk directly to the bartender. “Hey can I get four bottles of beer and a whiskey.”

“What kind?” The bartender is a blonde girl, pretty, only a few years older than you, dressed in an electric green top and mini skirt.

“Do you have anything that’s really old?” You never got what kind of whiskey Ben liked, just that he often complained that the older stuff was better.

It was a common opinion he voiced.

“Yeah but it’s pricy.” She shrugs

“That’s fine.” You pull Ben’s debit card out of your pocket.

You thought it was weird to use his card, but he kept telling you to even though you didn’t have a shared bank account. One time you tried to pay him back, but he wouldn’t let you and said that it was the man's job to pay for everything.

Another time you tried to pay for dinner and he told you not to worry. But you still felt guilty.

Sometimes you felt like a sugar baby. Given the age difference, it was closer to reality than you would have liked.

You were living together, well, Ben lived in your apartment. He kept talking about moving to a nicer apartment and as much as you wanted to, one day you found him looking at apartments that were worth more than seven times the monthly rent that you were paying currently.

You were going to see one in a few days, but you still hadn’t admitted to him that you didn’t think you could afford it. The only thing that stopped you was how excited he got about going, about moving in officially together in a new apartment that you didn't want to say no. Seeing him excited about something so domestic warmed your heart.

You didn’t know how much money he had, you just knew it was more than you given the fact that he was such a big hero and that he used to be in movies.

You hadn’t had a solid job since you started working for Butcher, who would give you some money under the table but who knows where he got that. You had some money that you inherited from your parents when they died, but other than that, nothing. An unwelcome thought, given the indestructible nature of your powers, which meant there was the possibility you would live forever.

I’m gonna have to start budgeting better.

The bartender turns to look for the drinks, while you lean forward on the bar, closing your eyes to listen to the smooth jazz that floats over the crowd.

Someone’s hand slides down your back and grips your butt.

You snort, not opening your eyes. “Ben I thought I told you-“ You turn around to look at who you thought was Ben, but freeze when you realize it’s the pink haired singer from before.

“Hey baby.” The man smiles tightening his grip on your butt. “I saw you admiring me, thought I’d come say hello.”

“Um. Yeah. That didn’t happen, now can you please take your hand off my ass?” You ask forcing your voice into a cool collected tone.

“I think it did.” He doesn’t remove it, in fact he moves further into you, to pin you against the bar. “Did you like my song?”

“No.”

One word answers usually were a good way of telling people that you weren’t interested, but this man didn't seem to understand that.

“Aww that’s too bad. I’ve got a few others that I can show you. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?”

“We’ll see that’s the thing. I’m not alone and I’m going to ask you nicely one more time to fuck off before I break your arm.”

“A little thing like you do that? Come on baby let’s be serious.”

By now every time he said little your eye twitched aggressively. You did a good job of pretending you weren't a supe on your days off. You hid really well in a crowd, a skill that helped you evade Homelander and Vought more than once. Of course it had its annoyances as well. Case and point.

“Trust me. Me breaking your arm is much better than the alternative.”

I should get rid of him before Ben gets out here. That will definitely not end well if he sees this guy.

“What’s the alternative?” He oozes moving so close to your face that you can smell the stale alcohol on his breath.

“Well-“

The man is snapped upwards away from you and into the air.

Ben looks murderous. His usually bright green eyes have hardened into an emerald, his smile turned into a snarl. He’s holding the man by the front of his brightly striped suit, two feet off the ground, so close that Ben’s nose is almost brushing his.

“The alternative-“ Ben’s voice is a growl. “Is that I break your fucking face for touching my girlfriend.”

Why does he look so hot when he’s angry? You sigh to yourself, admiring the way his muscles tense under his black t-shirt as he holds the guy and how the shirt pulls up just enough for you to see the top of his hip where his low hanging blue jeans have fallen.

There’s something wrong with me.

“Whoa man I’m sorry I didn’t know she was yours.” The man stutters, holding on to Ben’s wrists where he still holds him in the air.

Ben is easily a foot taller than him and broader by a mile. Gazing down at him with enough hatred to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

As much as you liked Ben like this, you knew you had to do something before Ben killed him. Because as much as he deserved a good beating, the man didn’t deserve to die.

“Ben put him down.” You say.

“No.”

“Ben please.” You put your hand on his muscular shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the palm of your hand. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

“But you are-“ His teeth are gritted together when he looks at you, green eyes blazing in fury. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

“No he shouldn’t. But he doesn’t deserve to lose his life just because he felt up the wrong person in a bar.”

Ben’s jaw is locked together, nostrils flaring, but even you know that somewhere deep down he knows you're right. He turns his head to look back at the man. “You’re lucky that she’s more forgiving than I am.” Ben drops the man, who lands in a lump on the floor and turns to look at you.

Ben doesn’t look happy, but he still  takes your hand, preparing to shuffle you towards where Annie and Hughie are watching in horror.

But before Ben can say anything the man on the ground rolls to his feet, more gracefully than you would have guessed and lunges at Ben a small knife gripped in his left hand.

He really doesn’t know when to quit.

Although you know that a small knife will do little to Ben other than piss him off, you react. Before he can reach Ben, your free hand flashes out, fastening around the man's left wrist and you pull his arm behind him at an unnatural angle. His arm jolts, the sharp snap of bone overshadows the jazz music, and the man falls to the ground clutching his ruined arm to his chest with a broken cry. All of this happens within five seconds, too fast for a normal person to see.

“Told you I would break your arm.” You say, pulling Ben away before he can do anything worse to him.

“What happened?” Annie asks eyes wide.

“Total jerk at the bar. I ordered drinks but I think it’ll be better if Ben and I leave.” You glance over at the bartender who is talking to the bouncer and gesturing over at you and Ben. “I already paid so y’all enjoy yourselves.”

“Wait y/n we’ll come with you-“ Hughie says. His arm is draped around Annie’s shoulders where they sit in the booth. You think about letting them come with you, but they look so comfortable and they should enjoy their day off.

“No it’s okay.” You squeeze Ben’s hand. “I’m kinda wiped from today anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Annie asks.

“Yeah.” You nod once, before smiling wide at Annie and Hughie. “Let me know if you find the next Billy Joel.”

“There can only be one!” Hughie shouts as Ben and you weave through the bar goers to avoid the bouncer.

When you finally get outside and start towards home, Ben finally speaks.

“We didn’t have to leave.” He’s still holding your hand tightly, but you can feel the heat of his anger stirring beneath the skin.

“Yes we did. The bouncer was coming.” You stop walking and turn to look up at him. “Plus. I thought it was incredibly hot that you went all Soldier Boy on that guy’s ass to defend my honor.” Your hand drags against his muscular chest, mouth turning up in a sexy smile.

“Oh did you? Because here I thought that you were angry. And that you were going to yell at me for not letting you handle it.” He tugs you forward so that your chests are pressed against one another.

“Nope. Why do you think we had to leave? I want to get you home asap.”

He runs his free hand through your hair, fastening it behind your head, to pull you against him for a searing kiss. “You know, I also thought it was pretty hot when you broke that guy's arm.” Ben whispers against your lips.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less. Now let’s go home so I can thank you properly.”

****************************************

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this fic, be sure to try out my series You Call It Madness But I Call It Love!

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Missing Piece

A/N: Just to let you know, Steve’s scar story is a true story that happened to me when I was younger that I didn't realize was so awful until I told it someone. Halfway writing about Rosa, I realized that I was thinking of Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99. So, loosely based on her.

Steve doesn't like to talk about his parents much. It's not that he hates them or anything. They weren't around enough for him to have a reason to hate them. He doesn't really know them well enough. They don't hit him or anything, and they pretty much leave him alone when they are around, only talking to him to remind him not to embarrass them, which is fair. So, they're not terrible parents. Not really.

"Hey, I have to ask. How'd you get that scar on your upper lip?" Eddie asked.

Steve had invited Eddie and Robin over to hang out at his house. It was safe to say that Eddie was quickly becoming their best friend as well. Although there was this fuzzy feeling in his stomach that told Steve that Eddie might mean something more.

"I'm such a klutz," Steve said chuckling.

"It's true, he is," Robin said.

"So, you know the story," Eddie said.

"No."

"Okay, fine. Fine. When I was younger, I went grocery shopping with my mother, but the sounds and everything always overwhelmed me even now, but I like to think I'm better at handling it. Anyway, I used to scream my head off, it made shopping hard for my mother, and she quickly got tired of having to bring me to the restroom to pop me in the mouth. She finally came up with a solution to just leave me in the car while she shops. I was okay with it for a while, but I didn't like how sleepy the hot car made me, so I tried running after her. I slipped and fell on the pavement. Busted my lip pretty good. My mom ripped me a new one for not listening to her. I was a shitty kid," Steve said, smiling fondly.

There was silence as Robin and Eddie stared at him.

"What?"

"Did you know this about his mom?" Eddie asked.

"No! I would have killed her!" Robin exclaimed, horrified.

"Where was your dad in all of this?" Eddie asked.

"Away on business like always or cheating on my mom," Steve said.

"Why are you saying it so casually?!" Robin asked.

"You're his best friend, shouldn't you know these things about him?!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Excuse me, she knows plenty of things about me. Like my favorite colors are yellow, blue, and pink. She knows I like blueberries and snap peas. She knows I'm bisexual. She knows that I lost my virginity to a guy - "

"I do NOT! You're bisexual?!" Robin said.

"I told you in October!" Steve exclaimed.

"I thought you were talking about getting a new bicycle!" Robin exclaimed. "You lost your virginity to a guy?"

Steve leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I told you about Tommy," Steve said.

"I thought you said Tammy," Robin whispered back, and then she waved her hands about. "Okay. Okay. Look, whenever Steve did talk about his parents, I always thought they were boring, stuffy, rich people, not abusive assholes!"

"They're not abusive. You have to actually be around for them to be abusive. I mean, honestly, they could be, but I don't know them very well," Steve shrugged.

"I don't think I was in this much denial when my own dad walked in and out of my life," Eddie said as he paused and placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders. "Steve, sweetheart - "

"You called me sweetheart," Steve said with a crooked smile, and he giggled softly.

"Yeah, I did do that. Focus," Eddie said. "How often did your parents leave you alone so often?"

"Oh, they decided that I didn't need a nanny anymore so. . .8! Yeah, eight. Although, I kept calling her mom up until I was about four. I cried like a baby when I found out they fired her, and a year later, when I found out she died in a car accident," Steve said, looking sad. "She taught me Spanish, you know, and she used to make me spaghetti with hot dogs. I loved it. You would have loved her, Robin. You remind me of her sometimes."

"Steve, why don't you talk about her?" Robin asked.

"It hurts too much to talk about. I do think about her. What would she think of me now? Would she be proud of me? Would she still love me?" Steve shrugged. "I wasn't even allowed to go to her funeral. I don't even know where she's buried."

"Sweetheart, what was her name?" Eddie asked softly.

"Rosa," Steve said, and tears came to his eyes. "Rosa Sanchez."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the tears from coming. Eddie grabbed his hand and pulled it away.

"Let them come," he said softly. "No one is here to tell you not to."

Steve burst into tears and fell into Eddie's arms.

"He always told me that Harrington men don't cry!" Steve sobbed.

"Everyone cries. Your parents were abusive, uncaring, and the most awful people on the planet. Rosa was your mom, in everything but blood, Rosa was your mom, and you should be allowed to mourn for her," Eddie said.

Steve buried his face into Eddie's neck and let it all come out. Robin came up behind him and hugged him tightly. Eventually, it became hard to hold him up, so they moved him to the couch, where he fell asleep, crying into their laps. Eddie gazed lovingly at him as he stroked Steve’s hair.

"You're totally in love with my platonic soulmate, aren't you?" Robin asked.

"He makes it easy," Eddie replied.

"We have to find out where Rosa is buried," Robin said.

"And we know just the person to crack this case," Eddie said.

"Nancy," Robin and Eddie said in unison.

The next morning, Steve woke up to find Eddie snoring in his face. They were curled up on the couch, their legs intertwined. Steve could feel Eddie's hand pressed up against the small of his back. Steve's shirt had bunched up during the night, so Eddie's hand was touching his skin. The touch caused a fuzzy feeling to spread throughout his body, and it also made his head buzz. Steve bit his lip and brushed his knuckle against Eddie's cheek. It caused his body to shudder and Eddie to startle himself awake. He almost jumped right out of Steve's arms, but Steve threw his leg over his hip and pressed him back down on the couch.

"I don't think so. I'm quite comfortable," Steve grinned.

"Uh, so, how are you?" Eddie asked, his nose suddenly brushing up against Steve's.

"Good. . .better and much lighter, like there's a weight off my shoulders," Steve said. "It's all because of you and Robin. Thank you."

"Anything for you," Eddie said honestly. "I'm glad we can be of help. You should know that Robin left. She had to talk to Nancy about something."

"Anything that I should know about?" Steve asked.

"Not yet," Eddie said.

"Hmm, okay, I trust you," Steve said with a happy sigh as he nuzzled his nose against Eddie's. "Can I kiss you?"

"You want to kiss me?" Eddie asked, his eyes widening comically.

"Mm-hm," Steve said. "Very much."

"Okay."

Steve pressed his lips against Eddie's with another happy sigh. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders, pulling him deeper as Steve flipped him onto his back. Steve's heart was singing with how well their bodies fit together. . .how well they fit together like two perfect puzzle pieces. Steve broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Eddie's.

"You make me so happy," Steve said.

"Ridiculous idea but I'll accept the fact that Steve Harrington says that I, Eddie Munson, makes him happy," Eddie said and paused. "You make me happy too."

The next few weeks flew by, and they were spending all their time together. It was complete bliss for the both of them and Steve was so glad that there wasn't the expectation of sex. They had both agreed that it would be better for their relationship, and it was. It wasn't hanging over their heads like they thought it would. They were just enjoying each other's company. They had already come out to the group so when Joyce and Hopper had a little get together there wasn't any pressure to hide their relationship.

"It's so nice that everyone can come together like this," Dustin said.

"Uh, you're missing someone, genius," Max said.

"Who?" Dustin said.

"Nancy isn't here," Steve replied, his arm wrapped loosely around Eddie's waist.

"Oh, shit," Dustin cursed. "Where is she?"

"She called and said she would be by later," Robin said.

"You know something," Steve said with narrowed eyes.

"It's good, I promise!" Robin said. "At least, that's what Nance said but she wouldn't say exactly what was good about it, just that it was good, and it was good for you."

"Okay, I'm trusting you guys," Steve shrugged.

Nancy didn't show up until an hour later, and Steve was now sitting on the porch with Eddie in his lap as he talked animatedly to Dustin. Steve's hands were firmly on his hips because if they weren't on his hips, Steve knew that if Eddie got too excited, he would start bouncing and he did not need that happening in the middle of the party.

"Steve," Joyce called out from inside the house.

"Be right there," Steve replied and got up before depositing Eddie back into the chair.

"Aww, my comfy chair is leaving," Eddie said and Joyce's head popped back out the door.

"You might want to come, too," Joyce said.

Eddie shared a look with Steve before taking his hand and walking into the house. Joyce was standing around the table with Hopper, El, and Nancy.

"What's going on?" Steve asked.

"Nancy told us about Rosa, your real mother. She also told us about your parents," Joyce said and hugged him. "I'm sorry but Nancy does have good news for you."

She squeezed his arm before pulling away. Steve turned and looked at Nancy with confusion.

"When Robin told me about Rosa, I had to find out where she was buried. With the help of Hopper and El, I was able to find her. When your parents fired her, she fought like hell to stay with you but finally, they threatened her by threatening you and so she left because she wanted to protect you," Nancy said, tears in her eyes. "I never found a gravestone, not even a death certificate. I didn't. . . because Rosa's still alive. . . Rosa?!"

Steve's heart stopped when the woman he had been missing every single day of his life walked into the room. . . the woman he thought had died. The last time he had seen her was when he was eight years old, and he had tried to get to her stay. He remembered the last word that he had uttered as she walked out the door, the word he had promised his parents that he would never call her. . . the word that came out now.

"Mama?!" Steve sobbed.

Rosa let out a strangled cry and rushed toward him, throwing herself into his arms. Steve put his arms around his nanny. . . no, his mother for the first time in years. He immediately began rambling in Spanish.

"Steve, Steve, slow down. You're going to make yourself sick," Rosa said as she brushed away his tears. "Oh, you've grown so much."

"Sorry, I know my Spanish is a little rusty," Steve said. "I haven't used it in a while."

"You will learn again," Rosa laughed. "My curious little boy, you've always had search thirst for knowledge. Always wanting to know the answer to everything."

"It took me forever to learn things. You know that I used to crawl backwards," Steve muttered.

"We learn in different ways," Rosa said. "You still learned and eventually you did start crawling forwards and who did you start crawling towards?"

"You, mama, always you," Steve said and she patted his cheek with a proud smile.

"I'm proud of you. I've heard you've got a big family now," Rosa said. "Introduce me."

"But first. . .," Steve said, looking at Eddie questioningly, and Eddie nodded. "I want you to meet my boyfriend, Eddie."

"Do you make him happy?" Rosa asked.

"That's what he keeps telling me," Eddie grinned. "He makes me happy, too."

"Then I am happy," Rosa said and hugged Eddie.

Steve grabbed his mother's hand and led her outside.

"Hey guys, you want to meet my mom?" Steve asked, laughing as everyone surrounded them.

Steve grinned as he told them the story, his heart filling with joy. The hole that had been left there was now gone as the most important person in his life was now found again. All the pieces had now come together.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

my lucifer headcanons

note: these are just my own head canons. things i’ve noticed, how i write lucifer, what plays into why i write luce the way i do… etc. purely my own opinion.

- i think michael was very fond of his brother

- when the time came though to listen to dad and fulfill his duty or be a brother to lucifer michael chose duty

- the betrayal is still a sore spot for lucifer

- during lucifer’s “youth” he was curious, always dreaming up incredible creations… it was why he was dads favorite.

- he made the star fish, “because the sea deserves its own stars!” and he also made the duck. the ducks first iteration was quite a bit larger… lucifer and god compromised on a smaller duck. (more like god bribed lucifer.)

- he watched adam be made…. so he was always fond of him and lilith… until he fell in love with lilith…

- he didn’t realize it was love

- but michael knew and michael was scared. so he would draw lucifer away from the garden every chance he got

- lucifer was very naive when he was cast down to hell. he knew so much, he had been alive for so long, but there was so much life experience he didn’t have.

- the first few years in hell were horrible…

- he had hope at first

- maybe it all wouldn’t be so bad

- it was really bad. like really bad. the people who came down to hell were unspeakable devils

- (this is based off a fic i read and i can’t find it, if this rings any bells pls let me know the fic name) but lucifer is continuously appalled and distraught by the atrocities committed in his name.

- it’s one of the reasons he so powerful. he has the angelic power but also the power from those who worship him and make sacrifices for him

he really hates it. a lot. makes him feel no better than the worse overlord (cough alastor cough)

- charlie has no idea and she’ll never know if he can help it

- lucifer smells like apples and vanilla musk, a hint of cinnamon and something floral or citrusy.

- the floral or citrus changes depending on his mood

- he has a huge library. he actually pops up to earth with Asmodeous sometimes and takes books.

- he saved the whole Library of Alexandria’s books before it burned down

- he’s great friends with all the sins

- arguably closest with Beelzebub and Asmodeous

- he loves claw machines. the lights, the sounds, the prize winning???? he’s so fucking happy

- he actually wears glasses to read. he doesn’t need them but he says they make him look smarter.

- is actually a pretty good leader, is not nearly as forgiving as charlie is, but he’s not inherently cruel

- his third favorite color is pink

- his first and second are yellow and red, obviously

- he has expensive ass, maximalist taste.

- he doesn’t use tech because he knows what vox does to said tech.

- he’s always wanted a dog

- he’s very touchy. shows love physically. is only this way if he likes you though

- he has nightmares almost every night

- coffee addict

- because after not sleeping he wakes up looking like death warmed over

- and that’s if he didn’t forget to eat the past few days except for random snacks and didn’t do a 48 hour blitz of staying up working on ducks or the bit of kingdom shit he does.

- he has a handful of servants who he trusts and they are the only one in the house. there’s no team. nothing like that. he keeps it very close

- this was after someone who was a servant tried to throw an angelic dagger at his head because really they wanted to kill him and thought working for him would get them close enough.

- he homeschooled charlie. he knows a lot of stuff and even knew the guy who created calculus!

[lumiconic]

things they remember

❥  summary: things they remember ab u and ur relationship!

❥  characters: diluc ; xiao ; thoma ; cyno ; arataki itto ; albedo ; tighnari ; venti

❥ content: fluff, gn reader

❥ note: just some cute fluff hcs!

… diluc remembers the smell of your hair, the intoxicating scent of apples and grapes that leaves him heady and dizzy, your face presses into his shoulder and his gloved hands twist through strands of your hair in a brief second of serene calm, and he inhales the most wonderful aroma that he wishes he could save forever so that all that clouded his mind was the thought of you, when he thinks back to his quietest, happiest moments, he remembers softness and sugar and apples and you.

… xiao remembers a color that gives him comfort, pearly, iridescent white, like almond tofu, misty opals, like puffs of your breath in the morning cold, the shade of the clouds that surround liyue’s highest peaks as you climbed them with him slowing down to stay with you, a determined smile fixed resolvedly on your face and the way you whooped, your gleeful voice echoing through the mountains when you finally ascended to the top, and your hands clutching his, that shade of hazy white he loves so much.

… thoma remembers the first date you had, a picnic underneath a maple tree with leaves as red as windwheel asters, a bouquet of flowers wrapped with gold ribbons on the cloth. the first time he heard you, really heard you speak after admiring you from afar for so long, and what a beautiful voice you had, what a beautiful smile, how you were so dazzling it almost was blinding. and today he’s recreated the picnic for your fifth anniversary, and you’re still just as beautiful as you were, even more so.

… cyno remembers that your favorite color is blue, that your favorite food is sweets with apples in them, that your favorite flower is padisarahs and your favorite person is him, your birthday, the name of your pet dog, the sound of your voice cheerfully singing out his name, your laughter at a silly one liner he made (and stored a thousand more in his brain to hear that sound again), he remembers the exact shade of your eyes, he remembers the feeling of you in his arms and warmth in his heart.

… itto remembers that you like the taste of sweet melon, one of inazuma’s popular flavorings, and every time he sees anything flavored with it he swipes it off the shelf, never mind how much it costs, and brings it home to you proudly with stars in his eyes. you laugh, try a bite of whatever it is – hard candies or smoothies or macarons – and then pull him into a hug and thank him from the bottom of your heart, and when he kisses you he tastes sweet melon, almost as sweet as you.

… albedo remembers clutching a caterpillar in his palm and crushing it into starry dust before opening it again and revealing a tiny, perfect butterfly that fluttered away in a breeze of silver glitter, your wide eyed look of absolute delight as you begged him to do it again, starstruck by his expertise and wanting nothing more than to see him do a thousand more feats of what looks like sorcery to you, and how you still treat him as though he’s a wonderful magician, a gift from the archons themselves.

… tighnari remembers an odd dream of his that he was lying in a field of flowers, soft cushions of pink and yellow, and he felt weariness drain away as he stared up at the sky with its golden sun, relaxed in the silence for once with responsibilities so far away, and then he blinked awake and found himself with his head in your lap, your fingertips tracing along his forehead, and you smiled down at him and cupped his chin in your palms as you gave him a kiss hello and his face flushed red.

… venti remembers blowing wisps of dandelion fluff off the green straw, watching the white puffs float away on a breeze as he wished, clutching clusters of dandelions to his chest with slender fingers as he bowed his head and prayed to a more powerful god than he that you could be his, that you could see him the way his throat choked up every time he looked at you and was struck silent for once in his life by the power of the love he felt for you, that one day you could reciprocate his longing.

thank you so much for reading, and pls leave a like + reblog + follow if you enjoyed!!

[magpiepills]

I’m Not Really A Waitress

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Javier Pena x f! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Javi takes you for a pedicure then reaps the rewards.

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected PIV, fingering, foot job, toe sucking, cum eating, dirty talk, pet names, potential sugar daddy Javi, no age gap specified, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader beyond their genitals.

A word from the author: I have finally finished the anon request! ANON! Please let me know if this is what you wanted! No need to be shy! I love you. Javi loves you…anyway, this is my first foray into foot fetish fic and it was fun! I can definitely see Javi being into your piggies. I hope I did this justice. I did watch some foot fetish gifs to prepare!

“I can’t take it, Javi. Please, it’s too much.”

“You can take it. You’re going to. You’re going to take it and then you’re going to show me how much you like it. Gonna thank me properly, hm Carino?”

Javi pressed the money into your hand. He had done it for weeks and it hadn’t gotten any easier to take his money. Every Saturday morning he drove you to the little strip mall and sat in his Jeep, window down, cigarette smoke billowing out like a smoke stack, fidgeting anxiously, eyes scanning the parking lot behind the yellow mirror of his aviators while you went inside for a fresh manicure and pedicure.

Spoiling you was one of his only joys. Long days toiling in the office or in the field, sweating under his tactical vest, chain smoking as he watched Escobar slip away once again. If he could make you happy, even if he was damned for all he had done wrong maybe it wouldn’t all be for nothing.

He tried to stay alert, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you through the plate glass, settled placidly in the chair, long legs bare and feet soaking in turn as a woman an a smock knelt before you, painting your toenails, massaging your feet, buffing and lotioning them, kneading your calves as you closed your eyes, shoulders soft and head dropped against the back of the seat, serene.

After some number of cigarettes had been smoked, you floated back out to him, stepping carefully in little pink flip flops, toes held apart by a strip of foam with little prongs between each toe, sandals dangling from your hand as you climbed into the passenger seat, smelling sweet and, like every week, slid your feet into his lap for his inspection.

Gently he pulled the little divider from your toes and slipped off the flimsy slippers. “What color is this?” You always got red. You knew that was his favorite. He couldn’t tell the shades apart, but you always told him the silly names of each color, insisting that they were all very different. He was charmed. “It’s called I’m Not Really A Waitress. What do you think?” Javi squeezed your foot, pressing his thumb into the ball of your foot, watching as your toes flexed. “Looks really pretty, baby.” He chuckled, pulling your hand close to his face to admire your fingers. Soft and delicate, you rested your fingers over his, and he pressed a kiss into your knuckles. “We gotta get home.” He made the short drive to his apartment with your foot held against his thick, eager cock.

•••••

Javi wasted no time, guiding you in the door and through the dark living room to his bedroom. You knew the routine. He liked undressing you himself, undoing buttons, untying bows, pulling down zippers. He saved his favorite for last, guiding you to lie on your back on his bed so he could unbuckle your sandals. He liked to take his time, working open the little clasps with his big fingers, taking the time to look closely at your freshly lacquered toenails, shiny and red. He was gentle, reverent as he held your ankle, kissing your toes, sucking the smaller ones obscenely, making you squirm. He released them with a pop before he kissed down your delicate sloping arch, up to the curve of your ankle before resting it on his shoulder. Taking a long moment to gaze from the soft little pads of your toes, down your legs, so long and smooth, so shapely. He let his eyes move further, down to your pretty pussy.

He mumbled something in Spanish and palmed his cock through his tight jeans. You loved seeing the thick roll of him, knowing it was just for you. As much as he loved to pamper and spoil you, indulging in your maintenance and care, you loved to show him how much you loved and appreciated him. You skimmed your other toes up his leg and over his thick cock.

Javi groaned, flicking his gaze from your shining folds to where your arch rested lightly over his cock. He rutted gently, guiding you to stroke up and down his concealed length for a few blissful moments before pulling his shirt over his head and hurriedly tugging open his jeans, pushing them down while you watched, mesmerized by his golden skin, the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips drew your gaze like an arrow down to where he held his turgid member. Mindlessly, your had drifted to your center, your fingertips softly circling your clit. You watched each other, unashamedly touching yourselves.

With his free hand, Javi circled your ankle, using his leverage to press your knee back and open you up to his hungry eyes, dark and laser focused on where you spread your slick over your clit. He loved how your fingernails matched your toes.

“That’s it. Get it nice and wet for me. Put your fingers in.” You could hear the strain in his voice as you followed his directions, sinking two fingers inside. “More, querida.” he insisted, but didn’t give you a chance to obey. Instead he took his hand from his cock and pushed two of his own fingers inside along yours, making you gasp and jolt with pleasure. The fullness and the vulgarity of his fingers slipping against yours covered in your ample slick and your palm rubbing just so against your clit brought you quickly to orgasm.

With barely enough time to catch your breath, Javi was on top on you, kissing you, licking into your mouth greedily, letting you feel his weight and his need grinding against your thigh. His hands never stayed in one place long, trailing up and down your sides, groping the curves of your body. He tried not to rush, he really did, but you were still breathless as he kneeled between your legs, eagerly notching at your still sensitive entrance but only allowing the thick head to rest just inside. You wiggled your hips for purchase, “Javi. Javi please. Don’t tease me; I need you.” Your hand returned to your soaked seam, you rubbed the flat of your fingers over your swollen folds and spread the warm wetness up over the length of Javi’s cock that he refuses to give you.

He watches, rapt, at hope you use his body to try to get yourself off. He would gladly be your plaything another time, but now he has to move. “That’s it baby. Keep rubbing that little pussy for me. Got you so nice and wet, huh baby?” He continues talking as he inches in slowly, watching how your pretty cunt takes him. You’re still rocking your hips in small movements as he bottoms out, chasing your second release and he finally fills you. “Fuck me.” His eyes are glued to where he is sheathed inside you, so snug and warm. You increase the speed of your fingers against your clit as he increases the tempo of his thrusts, squeezing him as you reach your peak. He rolls his hips firm against you as you moan and writhe, he has to close his eyes and will himself to not come right this instant. Not before he gets to finish the way he wants.

With you sated and boneless, Javi feels like he can finally indulge. You know what he wants. You let him move you, stretching your legs above you, crossing your ankles and squeezing your thighs as he rests your heel on his shoulder. You can feel his cock smearing your slick across the back of your thighs as he kisses your toes, nibbles the soft little delicate digits. This is the part he loves, he’s held off long enough. Once again he takes your ankles in his hands and pushes your knees to your chest. He brings your pretty feet to stroke his cock between them. “Rub your tits.” He directed you with a nod his head. You do as he says and surrender the rest of your body to his will. He thrust slowly, stroking over your feet, holding them firm against his length. He loved how it looked to have you laid out for him, naked, satisfied, slick and swollen, letting him take control. He rubbed his thumb over your toes and directed them to drag over his cock and gently over his balls. It didn’t take long for Javi to bare his teeth and cover your toes in thick, milky spend. He panted, smiling and looking over you, and pressed a kiss to your big toe, licking the cooling cum from his lips.

“Gracias, carino.”

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4.8k

chapter summary: Due to a power outage in your home, you have to stay with Joel and Sarah for a couple days until it gets fixed.

warnings: female masturbation, accidental eavesdropping, pillow humping/fucking (joel)

Chapter Five || Chapter Seven

You only see butterflies. 

You see them fluttering at the window, in your kitchen, in your bedroom. You see them sitting on top the mirror in the bathroom, you see them in the cupboards. They’re everywhere. They consume you. In every shape and color, you see them. You see stars on top of their wings, circles, hearts. Some are white, some are pink. But most of them are blue. 

They remind you of him. Of Joel. And you draw—you paint. 

You sketch wings on paper. Paint colors that become them. It’s him. It’s Sarah. It’s Tommy. It’s Olivia. Your brother. Your grandfather. It’s everyone that lingers in your heart, in your mind. You see them in the shapes that you draw. All of them distinctly different. 

Joel is a dark red, a dark purple with splattered white. The wings are sharper, longer, the largest butterflies. The ends of his wings have long extensions like antennas. It is beautiful, ethereal, strong. 

Tommy’s butterflies are similar to Joel’s, only softer around the ages and smaller. Blue, golden, a light shade of red. His wings glimmer under both sunlight and moonlight. Sarah’s are the smallest, pink and blue with a lighter shade of purple. Her design is the most elegant, her wings curl at the end, more fairy-like. 

Olivia’s are green, her wings long and slender. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t drawn inspiration from Tinker Bell—green, yellow with light blue specs. 

It’s the early hours of the morning, soft sunlight only just starting to spill from the windows. Despite your sweatshirt and the blanket you had haphazardly thrown over your shoulders, the early chill settles in your bones. You narrow your eyes, tilting the sketchbook, you hold it towards the overhead light. It’s hard to see and your eyes sting when you blink. But you don’t stop, you can’t stop. They’re everywhere and you need to draw them, you need to put them on paper before they disappear. It’s been months since you’ve painted anything. Now that the colors were splashing over white you don’t want to stop. It’s a breath of fresh air. 

Finally, you’re breathing again after being submerged for so long. 

The realization that you had feelings for Joel, and Tommy for you, make this unrestrained desire to create even stronger. You’re breathing because of Joel—because he had told you to draw butterflies. You want to show him what you’ve made, you want to show Tommy as well. It should make you afraid. The things that you feel. He has someone after all, no matter how serious their relationship might or might not be, however, isn’t this the perfect motivator for any kind of artist? You feel pain. A different kind of pain that you can actually use instead of the grief that aches in your bones. 

Pain is one of the fundamentals of art. The beauty of art comes from within, and so does pain,  it’s the process of creating it not the end product. It’s the journey. Some of your favorite artworks are derived from pain; Dorotea Tanning’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, Dali’s Elephants, and The Broken Column by Frida Kahlo. 

Despite being transfixed by Dali’s work (his work with butterflies has been a strong inspiration in what you make), you feel most drawn to Tanning’s style of showcasing pain. You always saw yourself as the girl within the Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, walking down the blood-colored carpet, a giant sunflower in front of her, tattered and ruined. You were always curious about the cracked open door ahead, wondered what might be laying within the only room with an open door.

Your thoughts seep through the pencil, become shapes and lines on paper. You admire the texture of the clean sheets, the lead against it music to your ears. You draw and draw, some making less sense than others. Page after page your butterflies become something else, they become more gruesome with split heads and sharp, glass-like wings. You swallow. The sweat clinging to your skin is cold, your fingers numb. 

And just like that you’re buried in muted darkness. 

“Shit.” you hiss, looking up accusingly to the light. “What the fuck?” 

You get up and head to the window, your fingers curling around the edge of the curtains. It’s early but it seems like some of your neighbors are already awake—and has light. 

“Fuck,” you say again. 

The sun warms your back. You’re staring at the blank screen of the TV. You hear the faint murmurs coming from the Miller’s kitchen, Joel paces back and forth, his socked feet silent. Anxiety clawing at your chest, you shove your hands between your thighs and keep them there. Joel appears. You look up at him as he leans down, placing the phone on the coffee table. 

“So it looks like the power outage is gonna take them a couple of days to fix, maybe even a week,” your heart sinks at his words. He notices and a soft smile tugs at his lips. “Don’t look so worried. You can stay here, we have a spare room. I’ll check on them to see they're doing everythin’ right.” 

“Oh,” you say, a hint of worry etched into your voice. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you with all that. I was just thinking of just calling up my brother, or I can stay at Olivia’s.” 

He waves you off in dismissal. “You ain’t troubling anyone. Besides, it’ll be easier to just bring what you need here. Or if you forget somethin’ you can just go and get it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure, darlin’,” he answers, voice dropping a beat. “Stay.” 

A shudder settles at the base of your spine. You nod. You feel a thick knock in your throat as you swallow. You can still see the lines of sleep mapping across his cheeks, his bed hair a sight to behold. Looking down at the coffee table, you try not to think about how good he looks with his gray sweatpants hugging his thighs—you especially try not to think about the night you drew shapes across his hand and forearm with nothing but your fingers. 

You dream of painting him. Putting him on a blank canvas and hanging it on your wall. He’s a beautiful man. Strong body, a pronounced nose, warm eyes. 

Sarah's sudden jump off the last step startles you and interrupts your thoughts. When she sees your expression, she looks puzzled herself.

“Mornin’,” she greets you, ready for school. “Did something happen?” 

“Power outage,” Joel answers on your behalf, Sarah turns to him. “She’s goin’ to be stayin’ with us for a while.” 

Your heart melts at how wide Sarah smiles, you can see the glimmer in her eyes. “That’s great!” she sits next to you. “Well, not great great, but we can have a sleepover! It’ll be fun, you can teach me how to draw.” 

“Sarah…” Joel warns. 

You cut him off before he can say anything else. 

“That sounds great,” you smile. “I actually have a couple of drawings I’ve been meaning to show you guys.” 

“Really?” Joel asks. 

“Yeah, really.” you answer, grinning at his surprise. You pull out the sketchbook from your bag and place it on your lap. Heat grows between your legs as Joel sits next to you, the meat of his thigh pressed snug against your own. 

Both Miller’s lean in closer, staring at your drawings—themselves, in a way. You don’t think they’ll notice, especially not Joel, but you realize that maybe Sarah does. Her fingers delicately move over the drawing that you did thinking of her.

Sarah grabs your arm and diverts your attention back to her, “Butterflies.”  she murmurs.

“How do you like your coffee?” 

“With milk,” you answer. “A lot of it, preferably.” 

“So milk with a dash of coffee,” he grins, amused. “Got it.” 

It’s been a couple of days since you moved in with Joel and Sarah. It was much easier to live with the father-daughter due than you initially had thought. Tommy came over in the mornings, dropping you off to work and Sarah to school, and the brothers went to do their own thing after that. 

With Joel’s back turned to you, you look down at your sketchbook and add another line to what is supposed to be his unruly hair. He really needs a haircut. 

Surprisingly living with him isn’t weird at all. He made you feel welcome. No awkward glances, no awkward touching. Just neighbors helping each other out. He places the steaming mug next to you and leans on his elbows. He looks at what you’re drawing and raises an eyebrow. 

Joel brings the mug to his lips. 

“You’re paintin’ me?” 

“I’m sketching you,” you answer. “You’re a lovely specimen.” 

“Is that so.” 

The scent of coffee fills your lungs. Lifting your gaze, you observe his facial structures. You see the imperfections, take in the sight of his eyes, his bushy eyebrows, and the bald patches in his beard. You want to touch the small beauty park right in the corner of his eye that’s impossible to see unless you’re an inch further away. 

 If he knew how you saw him—if he knew how big he was in your mind— Joel would be terrified. 

“Do you like art?” you ask, taking him by surprise. He takes a sip of his coffee and your gaze drops back to your sketch.  

He hums, fingers thrumming the kitchen counter. “I like your art.” 

“I should take you guys to an art gallery or something,” you say, smiling. “If you like mine, you’re going to go nuts over the things that are out there.” 

Joel pouts and you roll your eyes. “What are you looking at me like that for?” you ask.

“I like your drawings. They’re—They feel close. I don’t know how else to describe it.” 

It’s because it’s you who I think of when I create them. 

“Do you know Salvador Dali?” you ask, then quickly add. “Or Dorothea Tanning?” 

“Sweetheart, the only artist I know is Da Vinci and I’m not even a hundred percent sure he is one.” 

“He is,” you affirm him excitedly, looking back up. “I love surrealism. It’s when everything gets really weird basically. So—wait let me show you. I think I have a couple of pictures between the pages.” 

You miss the way Joel’s lips slowly curl up, adoration and fondness adorning his face, softening the edges. He comes closer. Your pulse quickens as your fingers rush to find the images, and when they do you basically rip them out from between the pages 

“Look.” 

All of them are images from Dali’s artwork. Mainly butterflies. Joel observes them carefully, touching them as if fearing he might stain them. You urge him to take a closer look by placing one between his thick fingers. It’s The Butterfly Rose. 

“Never thought you would do homework for a hobby.” 

“It’s not—” You let out an exasperated sigh, cutting yourself off mid-sentence. “Do you think I want to work at the coffee house forever? It’s not just a hobby. And of course, as an artist, I look at other art to be inspired. They make me feel things.” Seeing the startled expression on his face, you add, “Don’t you get like…shivers or something when you see a very nice wooden table?”

Oh, you made him uncomfortable. You sense that in an instant. His fingers trace the image of the painting, looking down, you notice the crease between his brows deepening with concentration. Was he concentrating on the image? In your words? You have no idea—the only thing you know is that this man concentrating on art is making your insides clench with a need. 

“Sorry,” he grumbles. “I didn’t mean it like that. I do think you’re a serious artist. It’s just…fuck that came out wrong. I just didn’t think you would put in this much effort to somethin’ I said,” he shakes his head. “Shit, I’m bad at this.” 

That undeniable need to touch him comes rushing back. You bite the inside of your bottom lip instead. “ I think I might’ve overreacted after hearing the same thing from my brother all the time. It’s all good. You might be the only one that takes me seriously so it was unfair for me to jump to conclusions like that.” 

“He don’t support you?” 

“He does…” you trail off. “In his own way, I guess.” 

“That doesn’t sound like support,” he answers, clicking his tongue. “And just FYI I like your butterflies better, sweet tea.” 

“Sweet tea?” you ask, lips curling with amusement and eyes widening with shock. 

He shrugs. “You said you liked Dorothea…somethin’---” 

“Tanning.” you quickly say. “So Sweet Tea as in…the last syllable of her name?” 

“Would you rather I call you Tea?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nope!” you grin, your heart elevated. “Sweet Tea is perfect.” 

With a soft smile, Joel places the picture in front of you and gently taps on it. 

“Well then, Sweet Tea,” he says. “Tell me more about this surrealism thing.” 

You and Tommy are waiting by the truck for Joel and Sarah to buy snacks from 7-Eleven. You remember the funny looks the Millers gave you when you suggested buying snacks at the cinema instead. Joel had just shaken his head and steered you towards the truck, his hand on your waist. The touch burned you. 

Then he proceeded to explain the thrill of sneaking something through the cinema doors, and how they deserved it due to their overpriced snacks. The latter you couldn’t really object against. However, you had no idea that the Millers were such kleptomaniacs. 

Tommy had a cigarette between his lips, he pulls it out and exhales a puff of smoke. You watch it mixing into the dark blue night. 

“How’s it like staying with my brother and niece?” he asks. “Hopefully Joel ain’t given’ you too much trouble.” 

“Oh. Not at all,” you smile, waving your hand. “He’s been nothing but kind. You have nothing to worry about.” 

Tommy nods, and he flicks the cigarette to the pavement, stepping on it, he comes closer. “Good good.” you feel his heat, his breath. You shudder. “I miss spendin’ time with you…I mean without anyone else.” 

His voice is a low hum in your ear. You had missed hanging out with him too, but now it's clear that your feelings don't quite match his. Your gaze drifts to the windows of the 7-Eleven, where Joel and Sarah are at the register, scanning the items and chatting. A burst of laughter from Joel warms your heart.

Tommy touches your chin, pulling your gaze back to him. Your pulse quickens under his touch. You swallow. 

“You’ve been distant lately,” he states. “Did I do somethin’?” 

“What?” you gasp, then furiously shake your head. “No. No, of course, you didn’t. I’m…It’s just been hectic with trying to get the power back and the drawings—It doesn’t mean anything, I promise.” 

“If you say so, sweetheart.” he smiles and you fight the urge to let out a breath of relief. “Don’t think about it so much. Joel said the electricity will be back in no time, he might’ve…” he clears his throat. “He might’ve threatened them a bit but it was all light-hearted.” 

You snort. “How can a threat be light-hearted?” 

“You know,” he grins. “When you place a hand on a guy’s shoulder and just squeeze it a bit while smilin’. It’s unnervin’ really. He does that a lot, gives me the creeps sometimes. But then again, a man gotta do what he’s gotta do.” 

“Well, I appreciate it.” you gently kick the pavement with the tip of your shoe. “But no threats necessary. I’m sure they’re going as fast as they can.” 

“We got the goods!”

Sarah comes running, a wide smile stretched across her face as she hugs her jacket tight around her. Joel follows, a lopsided smile on his lips.

When Sarah reaches you and Tommy, she looks around then back to you, she opens the front of her jacket. “See,” she smirks, showing you the various snacks hidden underneath the thick layer. 

Tommy whistles. “That’s quite a haul, baby girl. How long is this movie? Five hours?” 

“I wish,” Sarah snorts. “I’ve been waiting for this a loooong time uncle Tommy. Let me enjoy it.” 

Joel appears next to you, his own jacket also looking a bit tighter. You look up, smiling, and he parts his jacket, showing you, as Sarah had dubbed, “the goods”. 

“I just want to say for the record,” you exclaim, opening the back door. “If you two get sick I’m not cleaning up after you.” 

“You break my heart, Sweet Tea.” Joel answers, hand on his chest as if he’s been shot. “And here I thought you had my back.” 

“I do but not for self-inflicted stomach aches.” 

Sarah slides in after you and Joel takes his place at the passenger seat. Tommy looks at you through the review mirror as he buckles his belt.

“Sweet Tea?” he asks.

“Long story,” you answer, “I’ll tell you later.” 

The cinema. A place where every art form, visual or otherwise, shakes hands and comes together to create the most amazing of worlds. 

Ever since you were a kid you had this connection to the atmosphere. The scent of popcorn, the dim lights, the other movie enthusiasts excited to witness the magic of it all. You don’t know what it is that draws you to it. From memory, you remember instances where it would only be you and your brother at the movies, the two of you practically owning the dark room for about two hours. It was fun, it was almost magical. Just you and him. That’s it. It was a small town so it wasn’t a hard thing to come by. 

Now it’s the opposite. The screening room is filled to the brim, not one seat empty. Joel is on your left side and Sarah on your right, next to her sits Tommy. You notice she keeps patting her jacket. A small smile tugs at your lips, it almost looks like she’s afraid that the snacks would disappear. 

Despite the past and the present being drastically different, the feeling is the same. It’s a similar feeling to returning home after a long time. You’re excited, giddy almost. And it’s not because of the movie you’re about to watch—Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, one of Sarah’s favorite franchises— it’s from the memories of it. 

The lights turn off completely, the commercials start to play. 

Joel leans in, his shoulder brushing against yours. His lips touch your ear and your stomach tightens. You’re happy he can’t see your face. It would’ve been a dead giveaway if he did. 

“Pass these to Tommy,” he whispers, handing you a box of milk duds. You do as you’re told, Joel then pulls out a pack of Reese’s Pieces. “I do prefer the cups,” he mutters into your ear, you’re not listening, you just focus on the warmth of his breath and the way he turns your hand over. “But these will do for now.” 

You feel the small bite-sized peanut butter and chocolatey goodness falling into your sweaty palm. Throwing back your head, you plop them all into your mouth. You feel his gaze but purposefully keep your eyes glued to the screen. He’s too close. His presence bearing onto you like a heavy blanket. 

The movie finally starts and you do everything to keep your non-existent attention span on the large screen. 

An hour in, goosebumps begin to rise over your skin. It’s cold. The chill is something you always forget about the cinema. You didn’t really have a need to bring your jacket with you when you went out, the night air being warm. But of course, you’d forgotten that you always got chilly in the cinema, no matter how hot it was outside. 

Joel must’ve felt your shivering because soon enough you feel his fingers curling around your wrist. He shuffles closer. 

“Are you cold?” he murmurs and you nod. His fingers don’t desert you as he moves over Sarah to grab his jacket. He throws it over you, warmth immediately coiling around your body. “Better?” he whispers. 

“Yeah,” you say. “Thanks.” 

You’re hyper-aware that his hand remains on your wrist, some portion of his jacket covering your tangled limbs. His fingers tighten, thumb smoothing over your heated skin. Your skin prickles under his touch and soon he starts to skim your forearm up and down with the tips of his fingers. You cheat a glance at him but his sole focus is on the screen. His lips are pressed tight, brows pinched together. When a specifically bright scene appears on screen, you can see the vein meandering down his neck. 

You want to stare at him forever but you know you can’t. Your eyes flitting back to the screen, you ignore the way his fingers continue to move. His touch is much rougher compared to your own. More textured. His blunt nails scrape against your skin, the pads of his fingers travel to your knuckles then move back up again. 

It almost feels like he’s returning the gesture from before. The thought strikes fear. Is this his way of telling you that he knows? That he’d sensed your emotions through your fingertips and telling you; I see you. 

You want to snatch your hand away and your fingers twitch with the need for it. You haven’t heard Asha’s name for a while— But it’s not like Joel talked much about his personal life, and when your alone times with Tommy became limited you heard very little from the ongoing relationship. 

In the end, you don’t pull your hand back and he doesn’t stop touching you. The darkness hides the want, the need, the attraction. Because that is what this is right? Attraction. You’re not alone in your feelings. You can’t be. This was a silent message. A plea for you to say, I see you, back. 

And you do see him. You always have. 

The feeling of his fingers long lingers even after the intermission has come and passed. It stays with you as you exit the movies, as you listen to Sarah excitedly talk about her favorite parts, as Tommy bids you three farewell and drives on home. 

It lingers still. 

You don’t know what time it is. The only thing you do know is that it’s late. Very late. But no matter how much you toss and turn you can’t sleep. Your mind is wide awake with thoughts of Joel and nothing else. Him and his fingers, his lips, his neck. 

It shouldn’t surprise you that you end up sneaking a hand under your shirt, feeling yourself and imagining it was him instead. 

The sensation of your fingertips brushing over your sensitive skin is electrifying. You close your eyes and imagine it's Joel's hands exploring your body, his fingers tracing circles around your nipples and teasing them until they become tight and hard. His lips trailing down your neck, leaving a burning trail behind.

You bite back your moans as your hand moves further down, slipping between your thighs. Your fingers tease and stroke, exploring every inch of your wetness. You press down harder, your body aching and begging for more, as you think of Joel's hands exploring you. His fingers slipping in and out of your folds, tantalizing and teasing you until you can't take it anymore.

“Joel,” you whisper into the darkness, a prayer. “Joel, please.” 

Your breathing becomes shallow as your orgasm builds, and you moan out his name as you let go. The sensation washes over you, and you can almost feel Joel's hands on your body, his lips on your skin. When you pull out your fingers, you feel like a ragdoll, your limbs buzzing with your fading orgasm. You let out a breath. 

The phone rings. 

Your eyes narrow when you see Tommy’s name flashing on the small screen. Confusion and worry clouding your post-coitus haze, you pick up the phone. 

“Tommy,” you answer. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” he lets out a breath, his voice sounds frenzied. “I…I saw a—” whatever he was about to say he must’ve decided against saying it because the rest never comes. “I want to ask you somethin’”.

“You can ask me anything.” 

You say it but in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have. Your heart is restless, your stomach clenching and unclenching in the span of seconds. You hear him breathing heavily from the other line. 

“Would you like to go out with me?” he asks in one exhale. “Like…on a date.” 

Joel doesn’t want the day to start. It’s unbearably warm, and unknowing to him, he had cast his shirt to the floor sometime during the late night. The morning chill settles over his back. His eyes are closed, his cock hard. He presses temptingly into the pillow between his legs. He has no idea how it ended up there, but he’s grateful for the added pressure. Joel doesn’t think he could ever forget what happened last night. 

The way he touched your burning skin under his jacket, the way you kept stealing glances from him—it was all still too vivid in his head. But then…then you went to bed, and so did he. 

When he woke up in the middle of the night to get water, he didn’t expect to hear his name coming from your room. He waited and listened, you whispered it again. It was such a faint sound that if it wasn’t the dead of night there was no way he could’ve heard it. His cheeks heat up at the memory. He just stayed there, like a deer in headlights, and fucking listened to you get off with his name tenderly falling from your lips. 

Joel had turned and rushed back to his room, his parched mouth now filled with saliva, water forgotten. 

And now, with those thoughts swirling in his head, he grinds himself into the soft pillow. A low groan echoes from the back of his throat. He squeezes his eyes tighter. What were you thinking about? Was it images of him tasting your cunt? Him fucking his cock deep into your sopping heat? Which one was it? What was it that forced those sounds out of your lips? 

Frustrated by the lack of friction, his eyes snap open with something resembling anger. Joel kicks off his sweatpants, brings the pillow underneath him, and squeezes the ends together, forming a crease. He shoves his aching cock between them, wishing it was you instead. 

He leans back, letting the warmth of the pillow engulf him, and takes a deep breath. His body is trembling as he moves his hips slowly. He lets out a low moan as his hips grind against the pillow, the sensation of it rubbing against his hard cock setting off sparks of pleasure throughout his body. The morning sun pours from between the curtains, kissing his skin. His hands grip the pillow tight as he moves his body faster and faster, letting out a series of moans and gasps. 

He imagines it's your body he's thrusting against, your soft curves, your tight embrace. His breathing becomes laboured, his balls draw tight, his stomach clenches. He sees a dark patch growing across the fabric. Joel collapses, his face pressing into the sheets as he rocks his hip forward like a dog in heat. His skin feels raw and over-sensitive. Every time the fabric rubs against his skin, he hisses. 

With one final thrust, he lets out a long, drawn-out moan as he comes hard, his mind filled with thoughts of you. 

He falls onto the pillow, panting heavily. The aftershocks of his orgasm ripple through his body. His cock is still pulsing with pleasure as it slowly softens. His hands run over the pillow, feeling the warmth and wetness left behind from his release. He can still feel the tightness of his orgasm, the pressure inside him slowly fading away. He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting out a satisfied sigh. Joel wants to feel you against him, to cage you in between him and the bed. 

His cock twitches. 

Joel turns onto his side, his body feeling heavy. The guilt gnaws at his insides. What the hell is wrong with him? First, he touches you during the movies like a man possessed, then he listens to you through the door, and now he’s fucking his pillow with thoughts of you. He groans and flips over to his back. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, another groan leaving him. 

He has a fucking girlfriend, and no matter how lax the relationship was, he couldn’t continue on doing this. He needs to break up with Asha, then he needs to talk to you, get things sorted. 

When he allows his arms to fall to his sides, Joel entertains the thought that maybe—just maybe—everything might work out. 

[lovekendri]

dazzling skylines | peeta mellark

peeta mellark x fem!reader

summary: happily ever after the rebellion, you and peeta have a picnic on a hill outside victor's village at sunset, full of love, kisses, homemade bread, and strawberries.

cw: cavity inducing fluff, peeta being an absolute hunk, implied mention of sexual activities

wc: 1k

type: ❀

A small basket of picked ripe strawberries and raspberries, two loaves of still-warm fresh bread, and a glass bottle of apple juice.

All of your favorites, packed into one basket.

Peeta was already far ahead of you, laying out the rough, aged quilt from his grandmother on the ground, the rustling of the slightly dried grass fought back at it, snagging on loose threats and small imperfections.

The sun was burning bright, a light yellow surrounded by shades of dandelion swirls. The sky above was a deep orange, getting darker the higher it rose, accents of a banana yellow dancing between purple and gray clouds sprinkled in stunning patches. Dark outlines of far away trees spread throughout the almost empty field, the occasional rabbit pouncing between longer patches of grass. It was a beautiful late summer evening, the heat just right with the light blow of a sweet breeze.

Peeta wore his white tee proudly as you watched him finally lay the blanket flat, admiring him from afar.

He was a work of art himself with his perfectly ironed shirts and brown khakis, toned muscles, and blonde hair glimmering in the orange light.

He turned to you as you approached the quilt on the ground, picnic basket in hand. His face grew soft, the handsome, genuine smile you had barely seen since he was hijacked grew on his lips.

"You look...beautiful," he murmured, taking in the soft pink sundress dotted with white daisies that you wore for the first time since you bought it.

He reached for your hand, taking it into his. You sat the basket down in front of you as he guided you to take a seat, following along with you.

You once again took the moment to admire the sky and him, and how lucky you were to finally have peace in the place you call home.

Peeta began to unravel the bread and berries and place them on the napkins you brought with, sneaking two raspberries into his mouth when he thought you weren't looking.

"Save some for me!" you laughed, swatting playfully at his hand as he grinned cheekily, a drop of raspberry juice dribbling onto his lip.

"It was only two!" he says, taking a raspberry and handing it to you.

You popped it into your mouth happily, enjoying the explosion of sweetness and slight bitterness it carried.

He took a piece of bread off the loaf, not caring to cut it.

"Gosh, I wonder who made this bread, it's so amazing! So fluffy and still warm!" He gloated, exaggerating the enjoyment on his face.

"Oh, please," you gave him an even more exaggerated look of annoyance, because you both knew very well that he made the bread, and it was damn good no matter what.

He gave you a knowing smirk, giving you a light peck on the cheek.

"You still have bread in your mouth! Don't get chewed up bread on my cheek!" You shrieked, yet another tease for him.

"You've had a lot worse on your face," he deadpanned, struggling to hide his smirk.

"Not the time," you giggled, a rosy tint rising on your cheeks.

You watched as the clouds moved ever so slightly in the sky with the light breeze, sometimes watching the color shift from dusky purple to gray, or gray to purple.

Peeta took note of your interest in the sky, taking the time to look up and watch the birds flitting by in small groups.

"Beautiful skyline, is it not?" he broke the silence, taking a plump strawberry into his mouth and ripping off the stem.

"It's not a skyline, Peeta. It's just a sky," you replied, a hint of teasing in your tone, knowing he would bite back playfully with another joke.

"Listen, same thing. There's a skyline somewhere out there, just very minimal where we are."

"Yeah right, maybe in the Capitol," you snorted, tearing off a piece of loaf and taking a bite, savoring the softness of it.

"You make it really hard to be nice sometimes," he joked, turning his head to look at you.

You admired his beautiful blue eyes when he looked at you. The way they had so much love and desire behind them, the questions they raised in the depth. You admired his blonde hair, the way it fell perfectly around his face. Most of all, you admired him.

Everything about Peeta was perfect in your eyes, his slightly lopsided smile, the way his cheeks reddened when you would say you loved him. His stocky build, his broad shoulders that he threw you over multiple times. His arms, his nose, his lips, his jaw, his everything.

"I appreciate that," you bit back playfully, the smile on your face was bigger than ever.

You looked down to the fruit basket, only one strawberry and four raspberries were left.

Peeta ate the rest.

"You can't even save two strawberries for me?" you complained, taking the last strawberry into your mouth and ripping off the stem the same way you learned from Peeta.

"You were too busy indulging in my lovely bread," he said.

You two sat in silence for a while, watching the sky and listening to the chirping of birds.

It was nice to sit with him in silence sometimes, appreciating the time you've spent together and the trials you went through with him. Through the tough and the breaking points, you two came out alive.

You had finished your bread, and scooted over on the quilt to sit closer to him.

Without saying a word, his arm wrapped around your torso, pulling you to his side, and you allowed your head to drop to his shoulder, snuggling close to his body.

You sat like this for a while, listening to the world around you move while you sat in eternal happiness, where nothing could hurt you in Peeta's arms.

You were home, both physically, and mentally.

Peeta was your home, your rock, your everything. Life wouldn't go on without him.

You felt his head turn down to yours, resting his chin on top of your head. He kissed the top of your head lightly, his arm tightening around you.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you," you replied, grabbing hold of him to watch the sky go by.

main masterlist | my profile | thg masterlist | request | proof read: ✓

[natasha-in-space]

Engagement rings headcanons

Was scrolling through the engagement rings with my friendo the other day, and they dared me to choose individual rings for everyone in mm, so here's the result of that silly dare. I know we technically already know about this from the 'mysterious confesson' merch we got, but this was still a very fun exercise to do. These are just my headcanons, and were made solely for fun, don't take my thoughts on this too seriously! :D

Yoosung

Would go with something classy and romantic, probably a bit of vintage, too. He wants your engagement ring to reflect his love for you, which may lead him to become antsy and indecisive when picking one. He doesn't want it to be too expensive, or too cheap. It has to be just right. Poor guy even sketches out a clumsy 'prototype' he shows to the employees, as it's hard to relay his vision across with just words. In the end, he ends up either getting either a classic diamond ring with an infinity band (he thinks it's sweet to include a small detail of your appreciation to each other lasting forever, however cheesy that may sound) or something a bit more vintage and intricate in style. I don't think he would have any preferences concerning the color of metal, so he might go with a mix of white and yellow metal.

Zen

Would definitely go over the top - the man's a true romantic, you can't tell me he hasn't dreamed of his wedding at least a couple of times! He appreciates everything you've done for him, and he wants this ring to show it. He wants this ring to be everything you've ever dreamed of and so much more. Might struggle with high expectations he sets up for himself, which results in him just stressing himself out instead of enjoying the process like he's supposed to. You might have to have a talk with him about that. As for the ring itself, I think he'll go with something pink and soft in color! There's just something that's is so sweet and light whenever he looks at rose gold engagement rings, it makes him instantly think about you. That's when he knows it's the one. After all, pink is the color of romance!

Jaehee

Would get something custom-made, but still pretty traditional. She wants something that would catch your attention, but won't be an inconvenience to wear. She wouldn't stress out too much, and you two would probably agree on a design together, instead of her surprising you with something. You are her partner, and she wants your rings to reflect that. A delicate and easy design is her go-to. But, if you want something eye-catching, that's okay too, as long as it's not a bother to wear. I think she would go with platinum options when it comes to color. It's simple but very pretty to look at. Kind of like you :) She would also like to add custom engravings to your rings. Something to look at and smile as she twirls the ring around her finger. Either a cheesy coordinated phrase (probably out of your favorite musical that you two always quote to each other), or a date of your cafe's opening, as it's the start of her new life that she has managed to achieve thanks to your support.

Jumin

Would get something fancy, but not over the top. He desires fir your ring to not be too simple, as you are worth more than that. Still, he focuses more on the spiritual meaning of the ring rather than its cost. Money's not an issue to him either way, and he knows that you don't care about how expensive this ring will be. Regardless, he wants only the best for you, as you rightfully deserve. Jumin would go for traditional classic designs, as he finds them the most flattering to look at. Might also like boho-styled engagement rings. When it comes to the process of picking one, he won't overthink it too much. He wants the ring to be perfect, no doubt, but he's pretty cool-headed with his search. Might ask Elizabeth to pick out the best design if he's conflicted. With her intricate collection of collars, he knows she has a good sense of elegance. Would probably go for yellow gold variety when it comes to color, as it's the most classy one in his eyes.

Saeyoung

Would go with something simplistic but unique. I am like 70% sure he would create your engagement rings and wedding bands by hand. It just sounds like something Saeyoung would do. Poor guy would probably be the most stressed of all the others. He wants it to be perfect so badly, but he's also indecisive as hell. See, he's mostly non-traditional when it comes to his tastes, but he also really likes the classic styles of rings, not to mention that the idea of a classic traditional wedding makes him feel all emotional on the inside. This issue would probably persist throughout your entire wedding planning, and not just the creation of your engagement rings: he just can't decide which side to take for the life of him. In the end, he'll probably find the middle ground thanks to your help and encouragement. He's gonna let out the biggest sigh of relief once those rings are finally done. And probably cry right after, as he has never thought he would hold anything as precious as an engagement ring meant for his soulmate in his own hands. Would go with white gold for color.

Jihyun

Would go for something custom-made and simple, but still a bit unique in its presentation. I don't think he has much preference when it comes to style, so he's fine with anything you pick. He doesn't want it to be too ostentatious or expensive, however. He strikes me as someone who prefers more modest designs, even if he'd like to sprinkle some custom design choices. It'll depend on your relationship with him, and what makes it unique for you. He wants your rings to reflect that, more than anything else. He wouldn't be anxious while working on the design itself, occasionally asking for your input, as he wants these rings to be the representation of your shared love, not just his own. He might go a bit overboard and come up with a borderline silly-looking design initially, so it'd be best for you to keep him from getting too creative. Can't fault the man for getting carried away. He would probably go for yellow metal, as it reminds him of the sun.

GE Saeran

Would go for something simple, romantic, and vintage-styled. Saeran doesn't know much about the intricacies that go into picking out an engagement ring, so I can imagine he'd get pretty overwhelmed the first time he tries to research the topic on his own. You'll probably end up picking it out together, patiently discussing important details between yourselves. He knows he doesn't want it to be too fancy or eye-catching, and he knows he wants the ring to remind him of your smile whenever he looks at it. His criteria is pretty easy but sweet nonetheless. It's less about the details and more about his inner feelings. He would probably go for a floral-themed ring if he comes across one that catches his eye, but it's not definitive. He would also go for a colored gemstone, mostly because he likes it better that way. He loves the color pink, as it reminds him of the feeling your gentle love, so he will have a preference for rose gold rings, not doubt.

SE Saeran

Would go for something both unique but elegant. Now, Saeran is definitely not picky when it comes to engagement rings. He kind of feels out of his depth here. Still, it is very important to ask for his input and offer for him to pick out some options he likes, even just on a whim. You two will take your time during this process, as there is no need to rush, and he will get overwhelmed from time to time. It's best to take it one small step at a time, not rushing into anything too quickly. He needs to be reminded that he has nothing to worry about, as all that truly matters is your bond with one another. Saeyoung will probably be the one to make your engagement rings for you, as well as your wedding bands. Partially to not stress Saeran too much with all the shopping, as jewelry stores tend to be too bright for the eyes. It'll be a pretty unique and somewhat edgy design but with a touch of soft colors in the mix. Kind of like him. 

Rika

Is the type to go over the top but, in reality, she would like something classic and simple. When she's in a good place both physically and mentally, she's very doting, and she's also a hopeless romantic. I'd say she's almost on par with Zen when it comes to her romantic fantasies, which is why she loves his musicals as much as she does. It can be a good thing, but it also makes her prone to perfectionism. She will pick out a very fancy ring that she thinks is good enough for someone as wonderful as you, but... she feels dissatisfied with the result, and that makes her anxious. Rika is a people pleaser, so she tends to make choices with someone else in mind, rather than trusting her own heart. You guys will have to talk about it. It's hard to understand what you like when you've lived your whole life masking as someone you're not. In the end, I think she would go for something simple and elegant, probably also combine the colors she associates with your love. Keep her in check, though, as we all know Rika's design skills are out of this world. 

Vanderwood

Weirdly enough? Despite their seemingly simplistic nature, I think they would go for something very unique and even a little odd-looking. Vanderwood is a pretty laid-back person, but all these casual vibes go out the window once it comes down to design. They are very picky with anything that they own in their closet, and engagement rings are on another level completely. They wear leopard print for a reason! I think they would end up getting something custom-made, as it's the easiest way not to stress out over the perfect design. They are not so much nervous as they are choosy. Still, they do have a major soft spot for you, so it's up to you to stir them in the right direction. They would like you to be very involved in the process of deciding on a perfect engagement ring. The end result will still be weird, though. But, the amount of weirdness will depend solely on you. Whether to embrace the weirdness, or to add just a touch of it - it is your choice to make.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Super Sweet Birthday Treats (Based on this official art)

@pompomposting

Pompompurin happily strolled down his favorite street in Sanrio Town without his beret on, a gentle smile shining on the golden retriever's face as he headed toward his friend Hello Kitty's Super Cute Sweet Shop Cafe.

He wanted to treat himself to something sweet since today was his birthday.

As he entered through the door of the cafe, his smile soon turned to a look of confusion as a white question mark appeared above his head.

He proceeded to blink, not remembering the inside of Hello Kitty's cafe being so dark.

Suddenly, the lights were switched on, and what Pompom saw completely surprised and amazed him.

His mouth opened in awe, a bright white twinkle in his black dot eyes as he placed his hands on his cheeks.

Hello Kitty and all of his other Sanrio pals were standing across from him, wearing party hats on their heads.

Some had party horn blowers in their hands, while others held them in their mouths.

When they all raised their hands in the air in a cheerful manner, pink, yellow, green, and blue-colored confetti rained down from the pink ceilings.

Pompom couldn't believe it.

His friends were so sweet to surprise him on his special day.

When they all walked over and gave Pompom a group hug, he returned the friendly affection.

Cinnamoroll flapped his floppy puppy dog ears and fluttered over to Pompom's head, placing a red and white party hat cone with wavy lines on it.

Next, his friends gestured toward a table in the cafe that was cyan-colored and had treats on it that they had made just for him.

Upon seeing the treats, Pompom's eyes lit up, and his mouth watered, prompting him to rush over to the table as quickly as he could.

The treats were a wide serveware bowl filled with a variety of Pompom's favorite sweets and a small strawberry shake.

Taking the spoon from the side of the bowl, Pompom happily raises it up, ready to dig into the desserts sitting on the large dish.

This birthday was one of the best he's ever had.