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[chloeangelic]

Belong to me, I: Chosen  

Line cook Joel x waitress reader

Line cook Joel AU masterlist

Summary: You desperately want a baby and hope that your grumpy coworker will help make your dream a reality.

Warnings:  Smut, yearning, mild angst, age gap (Joel is 40, reader in her late 20s), mild brat taming, creampie, breeding kink, size kink, description of glass related injury/blood, social smoking, dom Joel (not degrading), ovulation sex, unprotected PIV, mutual pining, rough sex, size kink, ass play.

A/N: Posted a day early cause of the overwhelming response on the masterlist🥺🤍 I'm turning this into an AU that I can post to at random and just kinda use as a creative free space like I did with this, so there will be more parts :))

Word count: 4.8k Rating: 18+

You had a dream one night. 

A dream that you were holding a child, your child, a little baby who came from you, whose home was your body for the overwhelming majority of her life. You held her in your arms, cradled her, ran the very tip of your finger over her little nose, stroked her soft cheek and looked into her eyes, seeing yourself in their reflection. 

You had dropped her off at your friend’s house to watch her while you went and visited your parents, but when you returned, you could not find her. You searched and searched, asked every person you came across if they had seen her, but nobody had. And when you woke up, you felt that same gut wrenching anxiety over your missing child that you felt in the dream. Like she was still out there, but you had no way of getting to her.  

And ever since then, you’ve felt a vacancy in your heart somehow, a pull towards something intangible, something you know you will love and cherish with your whole heart and take care with all the energy you can muster, as soon as it is in your hands. 

Yearning. 

A deep, almost excruciating yearning for a baby, the baby in that dream, a baby you will not have anytime soon if you are dependent on the presence of a husband or even a boyfriend to provide you with one. For as long as you can remember, you have wanted to be a mother, and it feels as though your opportunity is slipping through your fingers, even at your young age, as you watch friend after friend go off with their significant other and establish families, and you’re still single, not even looking for a special someone.

You want what they have, unbearably so, and have gotten to a point where you think you might crumble if you never get the chance to raise a child, but the idea of dating does not appeal to you, and you would rather just do it all yourself. 

One time your friend asked you, “If someone put a gun to your head and told you that you have to have a kid with someone right now, who would you choose?”. You didn’t have an answer at the time, but you do now. It’s been simmering in the back of your mind for a while; the answer to that question. You’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, about how it feels like the right time for you to have this baby you so desperately want. 

During the afternoons and evenings, you serve tables at a busy restaurant downtown. It’s not the world’s most interesting job, but you think you’re generally well liked at that establishment, you’re friends with everyone, and the shifts go by relatively quickly. 

You walk in through the large doors, waving to Maddy as she escorts a couple to their table, swinging past the bar stools, making your way to the back office to take off your jacket and slip into your heels, giving your hair a quick look over in the mirror before you walk into the kitchen.

And there he is - the answer to your friend’s question. Too tall for the countertops and always hunched over, too broad for the narrow hallways at the back of the house. Big, very big, so muscular, with shoulders and biceps so large you wonder if he spends all his free time working out. Grumpy, never in what one would call a 'good mood', convinced that approving or disapproving grunts count as full answers when someone asks him something. 

Joel, a scowling and silent mountain of a man. 

Sometimes you sneak out during his break just to chat him up behind the restaurant, even stealing smokes from your coworker to give him a reason to spend more time with you. His scent is intoxicating every time you sit there huddled next to him, especially when it’s cool out and you shove your entire body into the side of his arm and his thigh, his skin as hot as a furnace.

Even his sweat, at the end of the worst shift one can possibly imagine, smells good. He smells like cologne and fresh laundry and what you presume to be combo shampoo and body wash considering he doesn’t give much of a fuck about anything that isn’t his daughter and he’s not exactly what one would call vain.  

It seems, however, as if he gives a little bit of a fuck about you.

Sometimes it even feels like he looks out for you. 

And you wouldn’t have had this suspicion had it not been for the fact that you brutally cut your hand on a shard of glass a few months back when a vase tumbled and you stupidly tried to catch it. You looked at your bloody hand, heard the snap of Joel’s fingers and a few commands before you were suddenly in his truck on the way to the ER.

He sat there with you, pressing a wad of gauze to the cut until you were called in by the doctor, waited until you came out, then stopped at the pharmacy to get an excess of things you might need, and drove you home. He even stayed with you until you were fed and passed out watching a movie on your couch. 

After that day, you’ve felt like his eyes are always on you, his scowl seeming more concerned than menacing, his hands suddenly there to catch you every time you’re about to trip over yourself. Something about the feeling of being protected by him has made your heart and ovaries twist around themselves, making that yearning for a baby incredibly urgent.

You want his baby now, whether he’s present or not, and you’ve decided that you’re gonna ask him for a little favor when ovulation comes around and you feel slick and needy and desperate for his come. 

Which just so happens to be tonight. 

The restaurant seems to get busier the second you step into the dimly lit lounge, sending you back and forth between the kitchen and your tables more times than you can count, trying to think of how to formulate yourself, how not to scare him off. 

You eventually check the time and see that it’s close to Joel’s usual forced break time, and decide that you might as well take your own break now too, needing to speak to him as soon as possible. So you hear the clicks of your heels as you nearly run through the kitchen, grab the lighter from the office and push open the doors to see him already sitting there outside, his face tilted up so the sun hits his skin and bounces off the silver in his otherwise brown hair. 

“You mind?” you ask as you close the door, and he nods for you to sit down next to him, already reaching down to commit coworker theft. It always feels casual, calm, even relaxing in some way, to sit out here with him, but tonight you’re on the edge, knowing he’ll never speak to you again if your request falls flat. 

He puts the cigarette between his lips and looks at you while he waits for you to light it, but your hands tremble around the lighter as you try to hold it up. His eyes narrow for a moment, then his hands come up to hold around yours, making them disappear under his large palms, holding them steady and looking into your eyes until the flame catches and he pulls back. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, his accent slurring the words together slightly.

You have a speech ready, an explanation about this longtime want and need and yearning to become a mother, a rationale for why you’re ready, why you want to do this as a single woman in her late twenties, an excuse for why you don’t want to go to a clinic and find a donor who’s a Harvard graduate in his early thirties.

Why it is you want him, Joel, to be the one to give this to you, and how he doesn’t have to do anything, emotionally or physically or financially, when you finally get what you want. 

But your plan falls flat as you open your mouth, your gaze locked to his dark eyes. “I wanna have a baby” is all that comes out, breathy and longing and absolutely not casual like you planned. 

You watch as he flicks the ashes off the cigarette and takes a drag, looking at you with an unreadable expression, then exhaling away from you before he says, “Sweetheart.. The fuck does that gotta do with me?”. 

You roll your eyes at him, never threatened or intimidated or insulted by his tone. There is something you find oddly charming about his ability to be grumpy for hours on end and seemingly never cheer up, any pleasant surprise met with the raise of his eyebrows and a slow nod. “I wanna have a baby, now, I don’t wanna wait to meet some prince charming and get married and do all that shit.. I’m happy raising it by myself, I-”

“And?” he asks then, the creases around his eyes getting deeper as a look of confusion creeps up on his face, “Why exactly are you tellin’ me this and not your girlfriends?”. You take a moment to figure out how to damage control, how to reel the situation back in and not scare him off any more, while you watch the smoke rising from between his two fingers, one thick arm resting over his knee. 

“I want you to get me pregnant, Joel” you finally say, running your hand up his thigh, unable to cover the expanse of it with your fingers splayed out, and the feel of his muscle tensing under your hands makes you clench around yourself, warm wetness starting to seep out into your panties, “Please? I promise I won’t waste your time”. 

He’s frozen, looking at your innocent expression and the subtle slouch in your shoulders. It’s too fucking hard to resist you, your doe eyes and little pout, and there’s something in your tone that makes his shock die down quickly, getting replaced by a strange feeling of flattery. A feeling he’s not used to. Not to mention the disbelief he feels at the prospect of you wanting to get in bed with him.

He can surely find it in himself do this for you without getting attached, without worrying about this child day in and day out, or about you. He hopes he can, hopes that he's too old to worry now. He won’t bother you, he’ll stay out of your business unless you need something. It’s an act of kindness from him, really, and it’s about time he does something nice for someone other than Sarah, who’s been the only one on the receiving end of all his care and love for the past sixteen years. Besides, you're a nice girl, why wouldn't he want to do something for you? 

And more importantly, why on earth would he pass up the opportunity to fuck you? To have you under him, to see what’s hiding beneath those black pants stretched to their absolute limit by the thickness of your ass, to hear what you sound like when you come, to know what you taste like, to know how your lips feel on his, not just on his cheek when you thank him for putting food aside for you. 

You’re too pretty and too young for him, he knows that, he’s known that since the first time he felt that little flutter in his chest at the sound of you calling his name. Now all he can do is cook for you, leave it under tightly wrapped aluminum foil on the desk in the back office so it stays warm, knowing you’ll look for it there when you run away from your shift in search of something to eat, with a post it note on top, your name sharpied on it, waiting for you.

Just like he waits for you, waits for the moment he sees you every day and hears you say his name again. Hey Joel, the same as always, nothing special, but bubbly when everyone else seems intimidated by him.

He has a little crush on you, a massive one actually, one he hates to admit that he's had for a while now. Ever since you sat out on the stoop behind the restaurant with him for the first time and shared a cigarette you stole from Jermaine. The guy thinks he hides the pack well, but sometimes when Joel comes out to get some air and you’re the only other one who shared the idea, you fish it out from under the steps and slip one out, seldom enough to where he’s sure not to notice. 

You teased him for something that first time, and he can’t remember what. A year has gone by, but the sound of your giggle at his disapproval has rattled around in his mind every day since. You frequently tease him, wait for him to roll his eyes, then attempt to tickle him before he grabs your wrist and holds it tight until his break is over, and he pulls you up to your feet, with his other hand on your waist, letting you in the door first before he shuts it behind him.

One time, when he held your eyes for a little longer than normal, he considered asking you out, but thought better of it and closed his mouth as soon as it opened. He wonders why you're single, how it's possible for a man not to want to make you his, why-

“Fuck”, he jumps a little as he lets go of the cigarette and flicks his wrist frantically, trying to soothe the part of his fingers burnt by the ashes creeping down to his skin as he sat there speechless and not paying attention.

“Well?” you ask as if nothing happened, watching his muscles flex under his t-shirt, “What do you say?”.   

“Jesus” he whispers, a contemplative shake of his head as his eyes dart around. He should ask why you want him to do it, should suggest every other dumbass working in this place, should tell you no, that he’s too old for you and you’re too beautiful and full of life and too good for this place. But he can’t find it in himself to pass up this chance, and he knows he would fuck you right. He would be good to you. He wants to be good to you.   

“That’s all you want?” he asks dryly, then a long exhale, staring into your eyes, “You want me to fuck you?”. Ten years ago he might’ve been more subtle, but he's lived too much since then, and trying to find ways to sugarcoat what needs to be said feels like a waste of his time. The sound of his deep voice makes you shudder.

“I just need you to come inside me,” you purr, nervous as hell all of a sudden, wrapping your finger in his hair, ”And I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time, so.. You can do whatever you want to me”. He glances at your lips as you talk, shoulders shifting under his t-shirt and a swallow passing through his throat. “So you’ll do it?” you ask after a moment. 

He’s not passing up on this chance, already half hard at the mere idea of being inside you and counting how many goddamn seconds he has left on his shift. All he does is nod in response, his eyes going a little wide. “Thanks, Joel” you say then, as you stand up and brush off your pants, “I’ll send you my address, I need you over tonight, okay?”. You lean down to place a kiss on his cheek and disappear back inside. 

He stays sitting out there a few minutes longer than he’s supposed to, regretting not jerking off in the shower that morning, running his hand down his face and trying to figure out how he can make himself last longer than a minute. 

-

More than anything, it’s strange to see him like this, to see a new side of someone you’ve been around so much. It’s difficult to conceptualize the side of him that is private, intimate, personal. You've thought about him as just a man sometimes, not a coworker, and wondered what he might be like in situations like these. In bed. You wonder if you’ll see him differently after this, if it’ll be impossible to look him in the eyes at work when you’ve felt the size and shape of his cock, when you know what he sounds like when he comes, how he tastes, what he likes. 

“So, uh-” he says, as you sit on his lap with his feet planted on the floor at the edge of your bed, “What's the best way to do this?”. He corrects himself after a second, “How do you wanna do this?”. He has his hands around your waist, big and warm, and your arms are wrapped around his neck as you lightly tug at his curls.

“I didn't really think that far” you giggle, and he chuckles softly, likely picking up on your nerves.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asks then.

“Um, yeah, sure” is all you manage to say before you feel his hand around the back of your neck, holding the weight of your head as he kisses you like you've never been kissed before. The scratch of his mustache against your skin is oddly soothing, and his lips are soft, his tongue molten and slippery as it sweeps into your mouth. You exhale into him until your lungs are empty, becoming entirely pliant in his hold, one hand steadying your back as you try to keep from collapsing into his chest. 

A whimper escapes your throat, and he whispers, I got you, as he lays you down on the bed and rests his weight on his elbows, hovering over you and spreading your legs. His clothed cock pushes into you as he rolls his hips, forcing more of those little whimpers out and you can feel your pulse deep down where you buck your hips to grind on him. 

He undresses you carefully, not leaving a single item of clothing on, wanting to see your naked form. He rolls you onto your stomach and takes the opportunity to let his hands and lips and tongue explore every part of your backside, from your ankles to your ass to your shoulders, giving a little extra attention to your plush cheeks, that he pulls apart and then lands a swat to on one side, making you giggle as he soothes his hand over the mark, already starting to sting from his strength. 

You roll onto your back again and start to claw at his shirt. He reaches back to pull it off, revealing the muscular upper body you’ve wondered about for what seems like forever - years, now. A strange smile tugs at your lips as you look at him, at his arm flexing as he opens your knees to spread your legs, and he leans down to kiss you as he drags his knuckles up and down your center. 

He pushes two fingers into you and you moan, loudly, too loudly. He shushes you, kisses you again as you writhe under him and grind against his hand until he finds the right spot, the one that makes you arch your back and start begging him to fuck you. He slides his fingers out and looks down to see a thick, glossy string hanging between his two of his digits, raising an eyebrow in what you assume is awe. “Told you I needed you tonight” you purr.

He huffs a little in response, “I can tell”. 

He immediately finds your clit with the pads of his fingers, and rubs, slowly then fast, slowly then fast, as he unbuckles his belt with his other hand and shucks off his jeans, then his boxers, and lays on your side with his hard cock resting against your hip.

You start to squirm as he pushes his thick fingers inside you again, curls them a few times and slips them out, going back to massage your clit. “I know” he coos, “You want more, huh?”. All you can do is moan and nod, feeling your orgasm starting to pool at the bottom of your spine. 

“It's okay, just let me take my time with you”, he rubs you a little faster, firmer, as he watches your breathing get erratic, “Wanna fuck you right”. He wants to watch you come, has been fantasizing about it for such a long time, wants to see it and hear it and feel it. “I’m gonna give you my cock soon, okay?” he murmurs, “Don't want it to be painful for you, my girl, need you to come for me first”. And something about his words gives you the last push you need, making you come as you whimper his name over and over. 

He gets between your legs then, knocking his knee against yours to open you up, and leans over, taking his cock in his hand and nudging the leaking head into your opening. You can feel your thick, slippery wetness spill onto him, and you hear him grunt, fisting his length a few times with your slick and pushing in slowly, stretching you obscenely and filling you to the brim before he’s fully inside.

You shouldn’t be surprised at the overwhelming size of it, considering how he towers over you and is the only person you know who makes you feel tiny, but his cock rubs against every soft spot inside you and stimulates every nerve in your body, reaching a depth nobody has ever touched before.

He fucks you with deep strokes, reaching all the way to the end of you before he withdraws halfway and pushes back in, breathing hard and squeezing his hands around your hips so tightly you can feel the marks forming. You need him even deeper. “Harder, Joel, please, please“ you beg, “I’m so fucking wet and you feel so good, I- please, oh god, please”. Your voice is filled with desperation, and he wants to hear it every day for the rest of his life, the sound of you on your knees for him, wanting him and everything he can give you. 

“Relax.” he says sternly, shoving you into the mattress with a thrust and holding you there with his strong hands, trapping you under him and forcing you to stay still as his cock slides in and out smoothly.

“I can’t, just hurry up, please, fuck me faster, I need it” you nag then, whiny and annoying, snapping your fingers.

He pauses then, leans over to stare down into your eyes, “Do you want my come or not?”. 

“Ugh, yes”, you groan, letting out a few soft grunts as you try to shift around in his grasp and push down onto him harder somehow.

“Settle then”, his voice is stern again, commanding but patient, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Come on, Joel”, you stretch your back and try to escape his gaze, digging your nails into his shoulders and feeling your walls fluttering around him.

His hand wraps around your throat then, and his face is close to yours, that dark gaze unrelenting and demanding your attention. “Settle down” he says calmly, and holds you pinned right there until he feels your body relaxing, your slick dripping down his shaft and your nipples tickling his chest. 

He flips you over and pulls you up and onto your knees, arms stretched out over your head as he slides all the way into you and the pressure on your cervix makes you try to squirm away. A useless endeavor. His hands rove around your ass cheeks and you hear a quiet shit above you, followed by an equally low fuck me as he squeezes your flesh, pulls it apart, then spits onto your asshole. 

You feel him smear it into your skin with his thumb, whining at how he teases you, pushing his thumb into your tight hole slowly while he jacks himself with his other hand. You plead again, a long, drawn out please, Joel, then another oh god, please, a last more, more for good measure, and then he’s pushing the head of his cock into you, filling you with his thickness and finally inching his thumb into your ass. The intensity is overwhelming, and your eyes roll back as another orgasm nears. 

“Give me one more, baby, come on” he coos as he reaches around and rubs your clit.

You respond, barely coherent and not wanting him to stop, “I don't- I don’t think it'll determine if it takes or not.. How many times I c-come”.

He gives you a few strokes, overwhelming and hard and squelching with your arousal before he says, “I read in a fuckin’ article that it helps, or, I don’t know, something”.

You shift your eyes around a little, wanting to laugh, “You read an article saying that orgasms increase your likelihood of conceiving?”. 

“Just shut up and let me make you come, sweetheart,” he drawls, “Stop talkin’ so much”. His voice is low and husky as he rubs the back of your hip with one thumb and the other sinks deeper into your ass as you tighten around it.

“Why?” you ask, breathy and whiny, “All I need is your come, I- I’m not expecting-”.

He cuts you off quickly, whispering, “Jesus…”. 

“I’m not gonna have sex with you if you don't enjoy it, okay?” he says, “So just shut up and take my cock like a good girl, I know you can, I know you want it”. His hand snakes up to find your tit, squeezing it before rubbing your nipple with two of his fingers. 

“Besides, I know it makes you feel good, you can't hide it," he runs his palm down your back, smacks your ass firmly, then grabs it tight to stop the recoil, “You're about to soak my cock, I can tell.. Gettin’ all tense and shit”. He lifts your torso with his hand on your sternum, pulling you up and into him, shoving his face into your neck so you can listen to his growls while he fucks you.

Your orgasm hits you quite suddenly, and your head falls onto his shoulder as you pant. “How does it feel when I make you come? Huh, little bunny?”. You can’t answer, too blissed out and too fucked out to think, only mustering up a mumbled, uhhh. “Use your words now” he says, and flips you onto your back. 

He lines himself up and slams back in, folding your legs and pushing your thighs into your chest as he pounds you, “Come on, baby, tell me, how’s it feel to come all over my cock?”. You grab at the muscles of his arms, his shoulders and his chest, trying to get words out but only managing an incoherent mess of moans. So good, Joel, so good, you whimper. 

Then he wraps your legs around his waist and slips his arm under your back, and supports himself on his fist right beside your head, lifting you up to pound you harder, deeper, with more force as his thrusts gradually slow down and he breathes heavily, staring down at how your tits slide up and down your chest. “Say you want me to come inside you”, his voice is strained, and you can tell he’s holding back by the way his cock twitches. 

You take a deep breath, and coo, as softly as you can, “Want you to be my baby daddy, Joel”, and watch his face contort, his eyes closing and feel his arm tightening its grip around you. You moan a little, eyes rolling back at the intensity. “Come inside me, please,” you beg, “Wanna be full of you, want you to give me a baby, your baby”.

He groans at that, then pulls you up into his chest so closely you can feel the sweat dripping down from his hair and onto your skin, and his cock pulsating as he fills you with his come. You can tell it's a lot by how he throbs inside you incessantly, and moans, long and ragged, while he digs his face into the crook of your neck.

He lifts your hips up, staying buried inside you, and shoves a pillow under you as a mix of his come and your slick runs down between your asscheeks, onto the cover. He wraps his hand around your throat again and growls, into your ear, “You’re mine now, little thing, all mine”.

I have ditched my taglists, due to the majority of tags not working, and have created a notifications blog instead. Follow Angelic Notifs and turn your notifications on if you want my new fics served directly to you!

[siriuslysmoking]

HEY BABESSSS

I’m like completely in love with your writing and I NEED to read a sub!innocent!bestfriend!james… wouldn’t that be fucking amazing? Reader catches him humping a pillow or something because “it hurts down there” and she decides to help with his ache :(( that would be so cute

Need some help?

Pairing: Sub!BestFriend!James x Softdom!reader

warnings: not proof read (cuz I don’t want to), smut, smut with a plot-ish, pet names ( bub, baby boy ect.), sub/dom relations, mommy kink, pillow humping, not edited cuz I’m lazy (tell me if I missed something!)

Words: 662

Summary: James had this feeling all day, it aches, he needs your help.

notes: Bro I have to work in the morning but I just cannot go to bed before I write this. Lmao, sorry i've been MIA with my writing just been doing school, had family in town, and you know, depression 🤪. I'm in love with sub!james, it's just a must at this point.

James had been acting weird all day, you didn't know what it was, but you were in your last class of the day when you saw him squirming in his seat in potions class

You quietly put your hand on his bouncing leg, “you okay Jamie?” He nods at your words but his eyes don’t reach yours, “James?” You speak in a more stern voice.

“I’m fine!” He says in an angry whisper, moving your hand from his thigh while he faces the front of the class. You raised your eyebrows in question, looking behind you to see Remus who just shrugs.

Now it was after dinner and neither you or the guys had seen James since class. As you go on a search to find him, the boys decide to go to honeydukes for his favorite sweets since he had a rough day. They also said that they might get a pint and asked if you wanted to join, but you declined and headed up to Gryffindor tower to find the bespectacled boy.

It didn’t take you long hearing cries from his dorm quickening your pace. Once you get to his wooden door you open it without question hearing him sniffle with a whimper. You were expecting for James to have tears in his eyes, he did, but what you weren’t prepared for was him straddling his pillow. Pathetically humping it, searching for relief. You quickly shut the door, catching his attention.

“Jamie…” you trailed, walking closer, “what are you doing, bub?”

“Hurts.” He slowed his movements but didn’t stop, continuing to shift up and down his pillow. “‘S bad.”

“Need some help?” You cooed, stepping closer, so that you were looking down on him, knees touching the bed frame.

He nodded, stopping his movements as you ran your fingers through his unruly hair. “Lemme take care of you. Lay down for me.”

He did as asked, “such a good boy.” He whimpered at that and you straddled his thighs, laying his head softly on the pillow at the head of the bed. “Where does it hurt?”

“Down there.” He looked down at his lap, to his aching tent. You hummed as you looked to him for permission with your hands on the button of his pants. He lifted his hips for you, which you took as a yes.

You pulled his pants down just so you could pull his cock out. “S’ pretty, bubba.”

He hummed as your hand stroked him up and down painfully slowly, “please, momma.”

You quickened your pace, “what’s got you so worked up?”

“Skirt.” He looked down at your lap.

“Y’ like my new skirt?”

“S’much.” He whimpered, trusting up into your hand as your thumb stroked a bead of precum off his tip. He let out high-pitched moans and you knew he was close.

“Feels weird, momma.”

“I know, Jamie, let go f’me.” That’s when he let out another whimper, one hand gripping the sheets, and the other having a death grip on your thigh. His cum shot onto his stomach where his shirt had ridden up.

“Thank you.” He sighed, staring at you with faded eyes. You quickly casted a cleaning spell when you saw him getting uncomfy.

He whined as you stood up, “just gonna grab you some clothes, Jamie.” He nodded, laying back down as you searched through his trunk, searching for sweatpants for him to get out of his school trousers.

Once you got him dressed and his eyes seemed to come back to you, you heard the loud commotion of the boys getting back. Sirius was the first to enter, you and James were sitting up in his bed.

Peter tossed a bag of treats on James’ lap. “Feelin’ better, Prongs?” Remus asked, sitting on his own bed.

James nodded with a smile, meeting your eye, and then resting his head on your shoulder as you both watched Sirius and Peter fight over who would get the last chocolate frog.

[cassiopeiasdaughter]

⭐️ It’s not a TS I relate to but it’s my favourite TS song. Fearless with Theodore Nott please?

Fearless

Theodore “Teddy” Nott has been your best friend ever since he accidentally bumped into you at the Hogwarts Express back in first year.

He was quiet and smart and he had brought a spare book that he lent you, to pass your time until you reached the castle.

As you both opened your books, you asked him what house he wanted to be sorted in and that small question resulted in the two of you talking for the whole trip, leaving both your books untouched.

You are such good friends that you know him well enough to know, that right now he has abandoned the Ball and is outside-somewhere in the castles grounds sulking by himself. And you the good friend you are; are running after him letting the rain pouring heavily ruin your hair and dress.

You end up finding him with his back against a column and cigarette in his hand. If it weren’t for your current situation you’d be laughing and mocking him for his brooding and angsty behavior.

“This will kill you, you know.”, you say surprising him. Causing him to jump a little, and let the cigarette slip from his fingers

“Thanks to you, it won’t now,” he says as he composes himself and casts a spell to make the now muddy and wet cigarette disappear.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you approach him

“I could ask you the same thing.” He replies calmly

“I was looking for you.”

“Won’t your date miss you?” he says with a hint of irony coating his words

“If I cared about that, I wouldn’t be here.” , you shoot back

“Mhm” he murmurs and looks forward

You can hear your favorite song playing, back at the hall. And smile to yourself at the feeing it gives you. Theo, sees that and pulls your hand, leading you to the rain.

“What are you doing?” you ask laughing

“I’ll cast a drying charm later, dance with me?”

And you take his hand with a smile, losing yourself to his touch. One hand holds your hand and the others rests gently on your back. You bury yourself in his chest, drowning in his cologne and the feel of him.

You can feel his heart beating loudly as to sway together and his lips that caress your temple. You softy hear him, humming to the music and smile.

“Why did you run away like that ?” , you ask him in a whisper

“Why did you go with him?” he asks back

“Don’t you know?” you whine at his oblivion

He stops moving as he hears your words and tips your face upwards with his hands. His eyes are searching for an answer- a confirmation.

Yes, I feel the same way you feel, I always have, don’t you understand that? Shouldn’t you know by now? You want to scream at him, but instead you smile and wrap your arms around his shoulders anchoring yourself to him. Eventually, standing on your tip toes you kiss him lightly on the lips. Hoping this kiss can convey all the feelings you’ve had for so so long.

“I love you too.” He says before he kisses you again, his hands on your cheeks and yours holding his shoulders, scared that he’ll disappear and you’ll wake up from a dream.

As you both stop he rests is forehead on yours and you both let out a deep laugh. Years of pining and yearning. Wondering if he sees you as something more than a friend. Scared of losing him, of ruining your friendship. Resulting in you keeping everything inside. All that, is resolved now and your feelings are free.

“Is this real.” He asks with a breathy voice

“Yes” you giggle and kiss him again.

You stay like that, dancing in the rain, your bodies impossibly close, remembering this moment forever.

fin 🫶🏼

celebrate my academic hardships & Theodore Nott masterlist

[yourdoorisunlocked]

Kill Your Darlings - Part Three

𝐀/𝐍: I think I'll start posting the rest of this series on A03, while posting one-shots and requests on Tumblr. It's been cool posting my series here, but I prefer posting to A03 when it comes to longer fics.

Nonetheless, please enjoy!

➺ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 𝟑,𝟑𝟓𝟎

The incessant clicking of a mousepad and the mad ticking of fingers flying over a keyboard filled the barren kitchen, as he occasional moan of the wind rocking the apartment complex back and forth and the cold, hard blare of the silver screen on your laptop aggravated the pain of your headache.  

The tips of your toes just barely brushed against the frigid kitchen tile as you leaned obsessively over your computer, clicking away on the mousepad like it was your lifeline.  

At that point, it very well could’ve been, since the precious piece of technology held all of your answers, answers that Alastor wouldn’t offer you – not without a price. 

And you had nothing left to barter, since he already owned your soul – a thought that loomed over you when the demon wasn’t around to distract you from that chilling reality. Alastor owned you. He could’ve pushed you around like a dog strapped to a chain, and yet he didn’t. Most likely because he couldn’t truly control you, since you weren’t lost to his wrathful clutches just yet. 

So, using your timed freedom, you did some digging around on the web in a last-ditch attempt to find anything about Alastor himself, and his history. Know thy enemy, as the saying goes. 

But whether he was truly your enemy, would be tested with time. 

And right now, the blasted internet was proving to be a worthy opponent, since you were practically tearing your hair out by the bunches since you barely discovered anything about him. Still, you were determined to decode his mystery. Humans were terrifyingly efficient at finding each other, and dead ones would be no more difficult, even if you found squat about Alastor. 

Mark my words. I’ll find out who you are, Alastor.  

“Where there is a will,” you clicked away from the barren search results, fully prepared to surf around the dark web if you had to, “There is a fucking way.”  

Even though you hadn’t a clue to his origins or background, you were convinced that Alastor had to have been some kind of serial killer while he was alive, and you’d bet your soul on it.  

His personality fit the stereotype – a well-based one, at that – he was haunting your fucking radio – granted, a very swanky radio – and on top of that, Alastor was a literal demon . Maybe. You weren’t all that certain about what exactly he was, but there was too much evidence supporting the theory to consider him being anything but. 

Whatever the case, you were convinced. Alastor was, without a doubt, a bona fide serial murderer . Perhaps that ominous information should’ve put you on edge, but you were twisted too deep in Alastor’s captivating mystery to care. Fascination had overcome your fear of the unknown, and you were ready to dive in, and lose yourself in his mysterious past. 

But that was proving to be damn near impossible, when you could barely find anything about the bastard. He was a footnote in history, at best. No last name, no family members related to him, nothing.  

Still, you were determined. 

Leaning forward, you chewed on your thumb nail whilst scrolling through yet another forum that went into thorough detail about demon encounters and sacrificial rituals. Or, at least, a human’s rendition of them.  

You had sifted through a fair share of information on demons as well but turned up with virtually nothing, save for many helpful bold-lettered warnings that demanded to be heeded: Do not. Fuck. With demons.  

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered to yourself, clicking away from the site before groaning and massaging your aching temples. 

By all standards, it had been an agonizingly unproductive session of information-scouring. However, you had made some headway with a client of yours and finished most of your task list. Everything minor was shoved to the side in desperation of somehow piecing together Alastor’s intentions, stressing over his poorly veiled threats, and trying to figure out just whoever the hell he was in life. 

Just as you were about to yield to the great barriers of the internet, with nothing but an increased hopelessness and frustration at your lack of understanding of your new “Master” – as you were loath to call him – a soft wisp of a shadow flitting about the kitchen caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. 

“Hello, there,” you sighed without looking up at the shadow, already annoyed with its presence as it leaned over the counter with a smug grin.  

One glance at the computer and your hopelessness told it a thousand words regarding your predicament. 

“Yeah, yeah, you can gloat later. I got plenty done, anyhow.” You raised an eyebrow towards it. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about him, would you?” 

The shadow stared down at you, unimpressed as it crossed its arms, crackling curtly in response. Absolutely not.   

“Aw, come on, not even for a snack? I could make you something.” You nodded towards the fridge, grinning when it perked up and followed your glance. “Just throw me a bone here. Give me a hint, anything, and maybe I’ll give you a nice meal. How does that sound? C’mon, I’m sure you’re hungry.” 

Its emerald green sockets glimmered mischievously, and it bristled with a soft purr as it leaned down on the counter, practically drooling at the thought of a meal.  

A low rumble shook the floors with an unmistakable growl of hunger, and it whined softly. 

You pouted sympathetically. Seems like Alastor hasn’t fed it, recently.  

“Oh, poor baby,” it nuzzled into your soothing touch as you scratched behind one ear. “I’m sure he doesn’t feed you as much as he should,” the shadow’s stomach rumbled in response. 

“Resorting to bribery, are we?”  

You rolled your eyes as the radio flickered on, and you raised an eyebrow at it as it sat innocently upon the coffee table. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” You cooed down at the eager shadow as you completely ignored Alastor and his offended scoff.  

“Ignoring someone when they’re talking to you is quite rude, my dear-!”  

“I have some chicken that I can prepare for you. You can choose the spices, the temperature, whatever you want,” you were beaming cheekily when the shadow perked up, one fuzzy ear twitching towards you. 

“Temptress,” Alastor snapped. 

You at least had the decency to feel partly ashamed, though you just grinned triumphantly. You weren’t proud of having to barter for information, but whatever got you the scoop on Alastor was well worth it. 

“That’s right, just imagine those carefully baked, golden-brown edges, and oh, think of the spices!” Alastor rolled his eyes at your dramatic tone, choosing to peek through the shadow’s eyes at you. Pretty little temptress. You’d somehow tamed his shadow, and he was certain it wasn’t just the chicken that it was after.

To Alastor’s chagrin, the devilish phantom had all but leapt over the counter towards you, curling around you with a loud purr as it nuzzled into your neck.  

You chuckled at its antics and pushed yourself up from your seat, stretching your cramped back and legs and wincing from the lightning strikes of pain that shot up your joints from the hours of sitting in a hunched position. 

“Alright, let’s get you some food,” you scratched beneath its chin, and it hummed contentedly in response, its fluffy tail enthusiastically beating the air. 

“Traitor.”  

You cast a triumphant smirk at the slight pout in Alastor’s from the other side of the line. “Oh, I’m just doing some charity work. Clearly, you’ve been starving the poor thing,” you rubbed the shadow’s cheek, grinning smugly as it nuzzled into your neck with a soft coo. 

“Charity work!? You’ve seduced it with your wiles!” Alastor spat indignantly. 

You rolled your eyes while pulling out a few ingredients. “It’s food, Alastor. And you know what they say,” the shadow suddenly tittered and flew away from your side to rummage through the spice cabinet, “The way to a man’s heart, is through his stomach.” 

“It has no heart, and it is no man,” his tone darkened slightly, but you either took no notice or simply didn’t care as you took out the raw chicken from the fridge. 

“But it’s attached to one,” you grinned cheekily as the shadow returned with several spices in its arms while smiling widely with a wagging tail, while Alastor scoffed with a roll of his eyes. 

You clapped your hands. “Alright, let’s get to work.” 

. . .  

Alastor had grown quiet for most of the process, leaving you and the shadow in pure, content silence as you got to work around the kitchen. The shadow was entirely unbothered at his master’s sudden radio silence, instead choosing to make itself comfortable looming around your form while watching you season and prepare its supper. 

As you waited for the chicken to be cooked, you turned to the shadow who had been staring at you with its head resting upon its inky palm while watching you work with salivating, emerald eyes, simmering with the fire of raw gemstones.

“Now, I believe I was promised some information in return?”  

Static buzzed as it put a finger to its chin, humming softly before speeding off into the apartment, and it soon returned with a pen and paper and scribbled madly across the parchment. 

Alastor Hartifelt.  

As soon as the name tumbled from your lips, a loud record-scratching screech sounded from the living room.  

Ӻᵾȼҟ.  

But you didn’t even flinch at the ear-splitting noise as you grinned and nodded in approval, your determination flickering bright yet again. “Finally, we’re getting somewhere.” You barely got a moment to process your excitement at a new lead, a possible doorway to the holy grail of information about the strange, ominous demon haunting your actual radio-!  

Ding!  

The shadow’s ears twitched in the direction of the noise, and it was suddenly nipping at your nipping at your heels and pushing you insistently towards the oven. You were certain that it was drooling all over your floor, but you stifled your jittering excitement anyway. There were promises to be fulfilled, after all.

“Alright, alright!” Batting the phantom away, you grabbed the oven mitts with a sigh. 

“Not so easy now, is it?”  

“Oh, nobody asked you!” 

You soon plated the chicken and served it over to the phantom, who made quick work of the poor bird in mere seconds. At least it was already dead, you shuddered, trying to push the image of being ferociously torn apart by its razor-sharp canines out of your mind. 

It licked its chops with a satisfied rumble once it finished with not a crumb left on the plate you offered, and you were still reeling from the bizarre few minutes you spent watching it enjoy your cooking. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if it licked the plate. Seriously, how long has it been since the poor thing’s eaten?  

The shadow immediately curled around you as you sat down in front of the counter, hissing lowly at the laptop before burying its face in your neck with a soft growl. You didn’t want to be rude and shove it away, and besides, the shadow’s aura was surprisingly warm, which shielded you from the cold, drafty air of the apartment. 

And so, you allowed it to remain cooing and teething around your neck – as on-edge as it made you – while you typed Alastor’s full name into the search bar. 

As soon as you hit enter, the internet decided to be helpful again, and provided you with a golden website, containing any and all answers to your ever gluttonous curiosity for your new demonic companion, and his shadowy servant.

You smirked and ruffled one of the shadow’s ears. “Nice sleuthing, Alastor Jr.” The shadow grinned into your neck and pulled you even closer, while Alastor chuckled softly at the nickname, choosing to survey the laptop through the eyes of his ghostly scout. 

Not the first choice I’d make, since simply going down to the station would’ve sufficed.  Alastor sniffed and rapped his gleaming nails against his desk, eyeing the device with distaste. Then again, it doesn’t seem like those incompetent oafs would want an account of something so gruesome happening just beneath their noses staining their records!  

You relaxed into your seat, mentally preparing for the deep dive into Alastor’s shady past that you were about to take. It seemed that no information was buried enough to be obscured, so long as you were awfully specific with your search.  

But thank the merciful deities above that some history buff – who seemed quite outraged at the lack of discussion and information around their favorite serial killer – had taken it upon themselves to collect and piece together a consistent timeline of events, all centered around one Alastor Hartifelt. 

Got’chya.

You scrolled a little bit through the Godsent gold mine of information, baffled at just how much there was for you to access. Apparently, Alastor Hartifelt had been a charismatic personality on the radio, a beloved host and rising star in New Orleans. Around the time that he’d made his debut as a radio host, however, was when the murderers started. 

The presence of the Bayou Butcher rocked the city harder than any other scandal at the time, and you couldn’t blame the people for being so paranoid, after reading the brief description of his kills, and his M.O. 

You whistled. “Damn. You have quite the track record, Alastor.” 

“I’m well aware, my dear!”  

You raised an eyebrow at the sound of ruffling paper in the background, accompanied by the clicking of frantic typing. But it didn’t sound anything like the short tapping of a keyboard, and the telltale ring heightened your suspicions. He cannot be serious...  

“Alastor, do you have a goddamn typewriter?”  

“It’s essential, darling! Every good radio host needs a captivating script,” you laughed and shook your head. He’s committed to the bit, I’ll give him that. 

As you explored the very depths of the case surrounding the Bayou Butcher, you began to grow quite curious and weary of just how Alastor disposed of his victims. Unfortunately, there was a certain tab that fed into that very curiosity. At least they provided a warning, before you could view what came next. This one was on yourself. 

“Fucking Christ!” You nearly jumped out of your seat as you clasped your mouth in horror, eyes widened with terror at the gory, uncensored photograph of one of Alastor’s maimed victims.  

The poor soul’s belly had been slit open with a still-inserted butcher knife, with his rotting insides displayed for all to see and staining the floor with bile and undigested food. Squirming maggots and fat cockroaches feasted upon the corpse, which had been festering with mold and disease in Alastor’s basement for quite some time before the authorities found it. 

“Language, my dear~,” said demonic psychopath sang from the radio, and you were just about ready to chuck that thing out of your window as your eye twitched. 

“Prick...” you muttered, quickly scrolling away from the photograph. 

“I heard that.”  

“Greatest apologies, my liege,” you rolled your eyes. Alastor let out an amused huff but said nothing as he went right back to typing out his script. 

Bold headlines like ‘The Bayou Butcher Strikes Again!’ or ‘Victims Brutalized and Missing, Families Torn Apart’ were thrown around wherever you scrolled, and a mere glance at the cohesive timeline provided in one of the documents gave you a good window for how long Alastor had been active. 

“Huh. Seven years...” Alastor perked up at the sudden weariness lacing your meek voice. He had been tuning out for most of your little binging spree, instead electing to tuck into a book in the later evening, since sleep was seldom required for him. Nonetheless, he reluctantly took a peek through his shadow’s eyes to see what you were looking at on that blasted lap-top doohickey of yours, and dread filled his heart. 

Seems that some folks were quite fixated upon my choice of diet...  

Alastor bristled at the other end of the line, practically scenting the small flicker of terror. Your rising fear of him was building up again, and that just wouldn’t do.

Sure, Alastor was cruel, a monster, even, and he knew it. His deeds would instill fear in the hearts of even the most hardened soldiers, and his gluttony, his bloodlust knew no bounds. But not to you, not to the poor, lost little lamb that he’d so graciously taken into his care, that practically domesticated his shadow, who bantered with him. And just when he’d finally broken down a small part of your walls- 

“...So, is it true?” 

Alastor raised an eyebrow, halting from his tireless typing for a moment. “Is what true, my dear?”  

“That you...” you held back from gagging, and a slick smile crept onto his gray lips, “That you ate some of your victims?” 

Sighing, he leaned back in his cushioned chair and gripped the small microphone that he used for broadcasting. The idea of lying to you, treating you like everyone else prickled at his heart with resentment. There was no need to push you away. You were different. It would be different, this time. 

It had to be.

With a defeated sigh, Alastor nodded, though you couldn't see him. At least you’d know, now. At least there wouldn’t be any secrets between you two. 

“Yes,” was the demon, the cannibal’s resounding answer, and the room grew a few degrees colder with tension.  

You’d known that Alastor was... shady, at best. But now, it was out. It was certain. Alastor was a dangerous man, during life and death, but you knew that from the jump.

But at least he told you the truth, and maybe you could count on that, which was a strangely comforting thought. 

You sighed with relief. “As long as you don’t force me to try it.” Alastor chuckled along with you, grinning wider when you clicked away from the computer and sat back with a tired sigh.

“I think that’s enough snooping for tonight. ‘Night, Al’,” you yawned and softly rolled the shoulder that the phantom had been leaning on, and it retracted reluctantly with a soft whine. 

“Wait-!”  

You paused. Turning to the radio, you cocked an eyebrow at the desperation in Alastor’s voice, and he seemed to notice it too, since an awkward silence followed. Heat crept up the radio host’s neck, prompting him to itch and pull at his collar with a low snarl. 

Alastor fucking loathed this feeling. 

“Did you... Did you see anything else? Anything that caught your eye, perhaps?”  

It was the first time that Alastor had spoken to you with anything but suave confidence. “No, why? Is there something even worse than cannibalism, that I should know about?” Crossing your arms, you leaned against the threshold of the living room. 

Alastor softly cleared his throat. “No, nothing like that, my dear. I was simply curious as to how much information was disclosed...” he straightened in his seat, refusing to recognize his anxiousness. “Any mentions of family, spouses, perhaps...?”  

You shook your head with a negatory hum. “Nope, it was all just about you. Why’s that? Did you have a wife? Or a husband?” 

“Just wondering, darling,” he replied hastily, choosing to side-step that question as relief flooded him.

You eyed the radio sympathetically. “Sorry, if that’s... a bit too personal for you. I get it, if you don’t want to talk about it.” Shrugging, you started down the hallway with a wave and a yawn. “Goodnight, Alastor.” 

Alastor watched you, yearning, remorseful eyes tracing the familiar, soft curves of your form as you disappeared down the hallway.

And he answered your final words of the night, a solemn whisper against the cold, bleak air as memories of decades passed invading his memory, threatening overflowing emotions to pool to the surface. 

If you only you could hear the choke in his voice, the restrained tears, the remorse, the regret.  

“Goodnight, my darling.”  

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Thank you for reading <3 It'll be a while before I post here again, since I'll be focusing on my series on A03. If you'd like to read the rest of the fic, I'll put my account below for ya'll

𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 - A03

. . .

➺ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie, @fangirlanxiety74, @viviannagiorgini, @localmsifan, @justtnat, @karolinda007-blog, @mglawwica, @wonderlandangelsposts, @saitisfied, @repostingmyfavs, @weirdflower2024, @montis-posts, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @theperfectmangovoid

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@maggotzdilemma, @cassidywinters

[first-edition]

Thunder Storm

Jasper hale x human! Reader

Sum-You and bella are on your way to the Cullen house when a storm hits mid way. You two make it safe from harm but jasper makes sure youre fully okay.

(SHOUT OUT TO CAI WHO I KNOW IS GONNA READ THIS COME TO ME AND TELL ME HOW OBSEEN MY OBSESSION WITH JASPER IS. LOVE YOU 🥰.)

WARNIGS- smut, pinv, unprotected vampire sex (wrap it before you tap it folks),  cunnilingus fem!recv., she/her pronouns used, fingering fem!recv., slight nipple play, angst if you squint, after care present. 

MINORS DNI

“ah fuck!” You curse rushing into the Cullen house along with Bella as you place you keys in the little bowel they have set. A light breeze taints your skin before you look up seeing jasper walking to you. 

“what happened?” He asks worriedly although it comes off as a demand. 

“Bella?” Edward shows up from around the corner going to his girlfriend, both of you soaked as if you’d just jumped in a pool.

“Y/n i see your car outside what happened?” Jasper says now demanding to know what happened to your now damaged vehicle consisting of a severely dented back left door and a now missing tail light.   “Some asshole hit us on the way here the roads became really slick-”  “You shouldn’t have driven!” Edward snaps at bella. 

“We wouldn’t have come over is we’d known there was going to be an actual down pour now would we!?” You snap back for bella. 

Edward Cullen, your best friends boyfriend, and your super great uncle. Of course your family goes by his dead-last name of masen but none the less you’re related and he never lets you forget it treating you more like the annoying little sister than. His super great niece. And you like it that way. You’d rather play fight with a brother than be bossed around by your 104 year old vampire uncle. 

He sighs shaking His head as he rests a hand down on Bella’s back. And looks at her continuing a quiet conversation. 

Jasper moves closer to you checking your body up and down seeing any visible marks but of course theres nothing. Just you shivering from the freezing rain. 

“your shivering come on.” He says taking your hand in his even though he’s cold his hand in yours feels much warmer that yours. 

After changing into some dry clothes Alice let you barrow jasper bombard you with a large sweater of His and wraps you in a blanket on his bed. 

“J-Jas if you give me anymore warm things i’ll die of heat stroke.” You say as hes about to put on the fourth blanker around you. 

He moves a strand of your hair out of your face before sitting in front of you. 

“are you sure youre alright?” He asks his southern accent strong within the question. 

You nod pulling off some blanket already becoming hotter than you should be. he sighs in protest but it dosnt stop you from removing them. 

“Im alright. Really. You have to stop thinking of me as such a fragile thing.” You reply placing your hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch nodding. 

“I know..im sorry ma’am.” He says the formal notion out of habit. 

You lean into him to give my a reassuring kiss that you truly are alright.

Whats supposed to be soft kiss and a smile turns into him not wanting to pull away from you. His hands make thier way to your waist as he shifts his posits ion for his whole body to face you. Your arms wrap around his neck pulling him into you as you crawl over him sitting on his lap straddling him. 

Your finger run through his hair tugging. In response his hands snake under the layers to your bare waist his cold hands press against your skin as he feels the curve of your waist and move you the sides of your rib cage before dancing his finger tips to your bare back. 

You hum against his lips as his left hands finger find your breast his finger brushing over your nipple hardening it before giving the entirely a light squeeze. 

You pull back from his lips only to unbutton his shirt taking it off letting your hands search his chest and abs relishing in the time you get to touch him. For the longest time he wouldn’t let you touch him having never felt a soft feeling of love before but that all changed soon enough the first time you to made love. 

He pulling off your top layers in one motion accidentally ripping the last. Leaving your top, his favorite part of you, bare to his liking he stands, your legs stil clasp around his waist, and turns around kneeling onto the bed and laying you back against the plush warm bed sheets. 

His kisses move from your lips down you jaw line and neck being carful not to suck to hard in fear of causing severe damage other than a little bruise. Oh how you with you could mark up your boyfrien the same way. 

His kisses move to your chest taking your breat in one hand giving it the same pressure squeeze from before. He dips down into your chest taking your nipple into his mouth swirling tounge around the swollen bud making you gasp before you clasp you hand over your mouth trying to keep quiet as best as you can in the house of super hearing vampires. Although everyone in the family executive for jasper and Edward have gone out hunting. 

He pulls away from your breast and moves his kisses down your stomach kissing your hip bones that poke out from your low rise sweatpants. He glances up at you before pulling them off along with your panties so effortless lay its almost impossible. 

You look down at him, but not for long, as his tounge hits your core licking a strip up to your clit sucking and swirling just like he did with your nipple from before. He wraps a arm around your lower stomach providing slight presses and keeping you from squirming away as he lets his fingers enter you. 

Moving both harmoniously against the upper spongey part of your walls your thighs close around his head only making his dive his fingers into him and his tounge to move faster as his fucks you with his hand and mouth. Surges of continuous please fall through your body and you flush a shade of pink, your chest heaving your heart rate speeding up, all this jasper hears and feels letting him know you are right at the edge of cumming. 

Finally your let go your back arching as you turn your head gripping the pillow stifling your moan into the plush head rest. Jasper pulls away licking his lips as his golden eyes stare at your shaken body, flushed, horny, already fucked dumb just by his fingers and tounge. 

He crawls back over you resting between your legs and kisses your collar bone sweetly moving back up to your face as he showers you in kisses making you giggle. 

“Sugar? Do you wanna continue?” He asks. He ALWAYS asks you this question. 

sometimes he just wants to giving you the satisfaction him making you cum. Somtimes your too tired to continue sometimes your ready for more…so much more. You look at him as he moves your hair from your face. You nod and smile at him. 

He leans back off you a bit, you already missing his weight on you. He comes back a few seconds later his pants and underwear’s removed. He shifts your body and positions his hard member at your enterence and enters you slowly as to not hurt you in anyway.

Its easy for him to enter you as your pussy has been riled up just moments before. You bite you lip shutting your moan up as a purely fills you.

“mm-mm none of that. I want to hear you.” He demands and thrusts up into you sensing every part of your body to get a moan out of you. He groans as you clench around him at his actions. 

“Ngh jas…” you gasp you your nails running down his back feeling his muscles flex and retract. His cold skin almost feels as though its heating around you. 

The sound of thunder and rain, hitting his window, booms outside setting the perfect dark-day time sex feel. His hair falls to his face framing his face so fucking perfectly as he sensibly rails you into calling his name. 

Wanting nothing more than to feel you cum around his cock he takes a leap of faith and pushes deeper into you bottoming out in you for the first time hitting your cervix. You yelp in pleausre throwing your head back in ecstasy as has he fucks you. You take his hand in your intertwining his fingers in your as they push into the plush bed above your head. 

“jasper ah..please.” You whimper out as you clench around him. 

“good girl sugar come on…come on honey.” He growls out attacking your neck with sloppy kisses. 

“come on baby come for me.” He groans his hips stuttering as you cum around him in a fit of pleausre. He pulls out of you a cums on stomach. His golden eyes have darkened as he admires your body for a second. 

“stay there.” He says giving you a quick peck on your lips before getting you and walking to the bathroom his has in his room and coming back wih warm damp rag. He cleans off the mess he left of your body then goes back putting the rag in the sink. 

By the time hes by your side again your take in his nude body a bit admiring all the features from his scars to his face. In your doing so you dont realize you shivering slightly. Between your ice cold boyfriend your nude body exposed to the air. 

“go under the convers doll.” Jasper requests as he pulls on his boxers again as sit up shaking your head. He picks up the over sized sweater from the ground and walks up to you. 

“arms up.” He says you hold your arms and puts the sweater back over you. He kneels on the bed sitting placing his hand on your cheek and kisses your lips.  You smile kissing him back. 

“i love you.” He says 

“i love you too.” You reply. 

“are you hungry?” He asks tucking hair behind your ear. You think about lying for a moment but then nod. He nods back.

“i’ll ask Bella if shes hungry too.” You say and smile getting up only for your legs to slightly go weak Jasper rushes to you catching you. You just giggle looking at him. 

“sorry.” He says you shake your head. And peck his lips. 

“stay here i’ll go tell bella.” He says pulling on his shirt and pants again before heading out of the room. 

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 46: Abnormally Attracted to Sin

A/N: Celeste/Astarion commission is here! Thanks to @nikoadmeliora for helping them come to lif

Chapter from ongoing fic Forms of Imprisonment. Full story on AO3

Pairing: Spawn Astarion (post-tadpole) x OFC

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: 18+, mdni. Smut, oral, piv, church sex, a little Astarion-related trauma talk. See AO3 for other chapter-specific warnings.

Condensation clings to the arched windows lining the narrow, winding stairwell, offering a diluted glimpse of predawn’s blue glow. Light and shadows dance between Celeste’s fingertips as she drags them against the stone walls, climbing towards the roof. Astarion follows, hands hanging at his sides, aching to reach for her. 

He’d follow her anywhere. 

She throws open a pair of oak doors and the wind rushes in, whipping strands of her hair across her face as she steals a glance at him with an inviting grin. Inhaling deeply, the crisp morning air is somehow different than he remembers, and a sense of longing envelopes him. 

There was a common misconception about vampirism heightening the senses. Perhaps it did, but he had always filtered out the subtleties, with bloodlust paramount to everything else. After all, why bother appreciating anything when it would last forever? It was the fleeting nature of things that made them precious. If food turned to ash on his tongue, if his heart couldn’t beat even when filled with desire, if he could bleed and feel the blood coursing through his veins but never experience its warmth on his skin, what set him apart from a common ghoul? Many times, he questioned whether he possessed a soul.

Celeste settles on the rooftop, dangling her feet over the edge. Astarion braces a hand against the shingles with a grunt and joins her as she leans forward to look over Waterdeep, sprawling underneath them. It’s enough to cause a sharp stab of fear gripping his stomach, and despite knowing she’s not likely in any real danger, he snatches her by the waist and tugs her back. 

“Careful, love.” He murmurs. “I have a beating heart now, and it seems to be prone to palpitations.”

She smiles, inching backwards to placate him. He keeps his arms wrapped around her middle, searching a treeline on the edge of the horizon for the first rays of sunlight. 

“What did you think of your reflection?” She asks him as they wait. 

“I…haven’t looked yet.” 

“Shying away from petty vanity?” she teases, her words laced with affection. “What has happened to you?”

He snorts. “I always have time for petty vanity.” 

“What are you afraid of? That you won’t like it?”

“I’m not afraid.” His lip curls before his expression fades into something more contemplative. “Tell me, Celeste, what do you see when you look at me?”

She traces the curve of his cheek. “Piercing eyes, a jawline carved by the gods…” 

“Mmm.” He leans into her touch, eyes falling half-lidded. “Flattery will get you many places, darling.”

“If you’re wondering, you…haven’t changed. Since the ritual. By all appearances, you still look like a vampire, with the exception of a little blush on your skin now.” 

He lets out a bitter huff. “Well, at least I can see the face that’s charmed so many unlucky souls.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“Are you?”

“As one of those unlucky charmed souls, I couldn’t be further from disappointed.” She lays her head against his chest. “Somehow, if your eyes were different, or your sharp grin became dull, or the ridges of your scars became smooth…you wouldn’t be you, in a way. I could learn to love your body in any form it takes, but this one…this is the one I know.”

Astarion remains quiet. She’s confirmed what he already suspected, and he runs his tongue over the tips of his fangs. His skin had prickled at Cazador’s infernal contract, still carved upon his back after the ritual. It was the first thing he noticed when they reached the balcony. As the breeze had dried his damp shirt, it clung against his skin, the familiar, uncomfortable tingling where numb tissue met nerves. He finds himself surprisingly indifferent to the realization that his mortal transformation won’t erase the scars of undeath.

They are silent for several long moments as he holds her against him, fingers curled around her arm. Daylight spills into the sky above, casting a gentle glow over distant fields. Hues of pink and orange filters through the clouds, and the fog on the temple’s lawn below dissipates, revealing the world in all its clarity. 

“Ha!” Astarion throws his head back, a bark of a laugh that lifts the weight from his shoulders. “I guess I didn’t burst into flames after all.” 

As he takes hold of Celeste’s chin, he tilts her face toward the sunrise, appreciating in the golden light that accentuates every fine feature.

“I like seeing you this way.” His hand combs through her hair. Gods, her hair, the ashen and silver strands of it warming under the sun... 

Unable to resist his longing any longer, his mouth crushes against hers in an ardent, desperate kiss. His fingers find her hip, pressing against the velvet of her dress to pull her over and into his lap. Back facing the roof’s edge, she straddles him, clinging to his shoulders.  

“Slow down,” she pants, her words breaking through the haze of his mind. His lips hover a breath from her skin, the ruby hue of his irises gleaming.

“Apologies, I’m getting ahead of myself, but it’s just…hells, I feel like I’m starving-”

She rolls off of him. 

“Astarion, have you eaten yet?”

He grimaces, the burning growl of his stomach becoming more prominent, the nausea of a hunger he hasn’t experienced in years.

“If I say I have, can we continue?” 

She laughs, offering her hand. 

“I don’t think it’s sex you need.” 

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

She drags him downstairs to the banquet hall, the aroma of freshly served breakfast wafting through the air. Several clergy members file out, watching them as they walk by. Their companions are together under a far window, the morning sun illuminating their cheerful expressions as they pass food around the table. Celeste pulls Astarion away from prying eyes, the murmurs of conversation fading into the background, and takes a seat next to Shadowheart.

“Astarion!” Karlach greets him with a mouthful of food. “You have to try the eggs.” She slides two clean plates towards them, gesturing to the spread at the center of the table. He sits, eyeing loaves of bread, goodberry jam, porridge, bacon and goose eggs with uncertainty as his companions eat around him. 

“...gods, how do I even begin?”

“Perhaps slowly…the bread’s a safe start.” Gale offers, dropping a roll onto his plate. Astarion takes a knife, spreading jam across its surface and nibbles at it, chewing thoughtfully. It’s not the sensation of ecstasy, of drinking blood, the intimacy of his teeth in Celeste’s neck, her life between his fingertips, but it’s…adequate. 

“Did you see the sunrise?” Shadowheart asks, interrupting his thoughts.

Astarion nods, finding himself more interested in eating than conversation, and scoops a spoonful of eggs onto his plate. The texture is bizarre to him, but the taste is pleasant enough, if a bit lacking in flavor. 

Celeste watches him push food around his tray and changes the subject.

“We should leave tonight. I don’t want to overstay our welcome here, and I think we’ve accomplished all we can at the temple.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Gale chimes in. “There’s been a response to my recent sending spell…”

“Sending spell?” Shadowheart’s look of surprise indicates that he hasn’t discussed anything with her.

“I requested a…visit with an old friend.” Gale reveals tentatively, meeting Astarion’s gaze. Celeste raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “A...colleague with far-reaching influence in the Undermountain. Halaster Blackcloak.”

“Your pet sitter?” Shadowheart asks.

Wyll chokes, grasping for his water and drinking frantically.

“The mad mage?” he coughs, attempting to clear his throat. “What in the nine hells do we need him for?”

“He’s well connected. He could help us ambush the Sharrans, and it’s crucial that we have every advantage-“

“Well, with a moniker like that, I’m sure he’ll have our best interests in mind.” Astarion glances down at his breakfast and shoves his mostly full plate away with a frustrated sigh. “I think that’s as much as I can do for now.”

“Halaster has his moments of…clarity.” Gale continues, eyes flickering with concern to his friend’s largely untouched meal.

“How did you become tangled up with him?” Wyll asks.

“It’s a long story.” The wizard mutters.

Astarion leans forward. “So this…mad mage. Are we talking Volo strange, or is this more of an unpredictable and homicidal kind of situation?”

Although he is taking nothing seriously, Celeste is encouraged to see bits of his eccentricities edging their way back into his personality.

“The latter, unfortunately.” Gale says, “I was in a…rebellious streak when I met Halaster. “

“Ah, right. Of course. What was your colossal blunder nicknamed, Gale’s folly?” Astarion sneers.

Gale’s face contorts with an uncomfortable grimace as he scrutinizes his hands. 

“Yes, well… my point being, Halaster would be a valuable ally. He holds no alliances…and a tempting enough offer can persuade anyone.” 

“I can’t believe you would entrust your Tressym to a lunatic,” Minthara taunts. 

“For the last bloody time, I don’t own Tara, and she can fend for herself quite well, mind you-”

To ease her friend’s agitation, Celeste lays her palm flat on the table in a reassuring gesture. 

“If you think it will help, Gale, I trust your judgment.” 

“Thank you.” Gale returns with a nod, lifting a curious eyebrow as Astarion pushes himself to his feet.

“Well, I, for one, can’t wait to meet this Halaster. We’ve seen more than enough temples and fanatics these past few weeks.”

Nocturne looks up from picking at her food. “Where are you off to?”

Astarion motions towards the exit. 

“I thought I might try out sunbathing.” 

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

Wherever Astarion went after breakfast didn’t include a request for company, so Celeste returns to their room to pack, tucking away several of the finest garments in the wardrobe as souvenirs. It would be a waste for them to go unworn here. 

Changing into a flowing blue silk gown that cascades over her body like rippling water, she spends the rest of the afternoon in the temple’s library, reveling in the House of the Moon’s extensive collection. Strange, how much more enjoyable a hobby is when it’s not a profession. She wonders just how terribly Anders is faring without her at the Castle Waterdeep library, and a mischievous smile played on her lips.

Still no sign of Astarion come evening, Celeste wanders the halls in search of her companions. Instead, she finds herself in one of the smaller chapels of the temple. The pews are vacant, and a few candles flicker around the room. Turquoise and purple glow against the frosted glass as the sun sets outside. The doors shut behind her with a resounding slam and Celeste approaches the altar, taking an incense stick and twirling it between her fingers. With a steady focus, she wills it to burn and, to her surprise, it ignites effortlessly in her hand.

She lights several candles, considering not only her new power, but the control she’s gained over it purely from acquiring more. Seated in the front pew, she doesn’t ask for the moonmaiden’s guidance, simply watches the flames dance in the fading light. Maybe this is what draws people to faith. An excuse to be still in such a demanding world.

Suddenly, the chapel doors creak on their hinges, breaking her moment of serenity. Footsteps draw nearer, steady and confident, and Astarion pauses beside her, drawing one finger along the smooth wood of the pew as he approaches the altar. He plucks a fresh stick of incense from a basket and raises it to his nose, breathing in its scent, before bringing it to the edge of a candle, setting it aflame.

“Copper for your thoughts?”

He doesn’t turn around when he speaks to her, shaking the incense to snuff out its flame. The remaining ember swells before settling into a calm orange glow and Astarion sets it aside on an ash covered abalone.

“How are you doing?” Celeste chooses her words carefully, unable to read his expression.

He faces her, leaning casually against the altar, attention drifting around the chapel, taking in the scenery.

“Let’s see. Yesterday, I was a vampire, and now I’m…” his voice trails off and his eyes flicker down at himself, then back to her. “Not quite like you, am I? But close enough.” 

“Teu-guenhwyvar.” she says. The grit beneath her sandals crackles, her soles dragging on the stone floor as she rises from the pew.

“Elvish. How charming.” Astarion glances off towards the window and scoffs, amused.

“I saw my reflection.” He adds a few seconds later.

“Devastating, I’m sure.” 

The levity of her response earns an appreciative grin from him. “No complaints. After all, you seem to enjoy it enough.” 

“Your appearance isn’t of consequence to me.” 

“An admirable thing for you to say, but let’s not pretend you aren’t a little relieved I’m still this enticing.” 

Astarion pushes off the altar and tilts his head to the side. He had lost none of his graceful reflexes to the ritual. Perhaps the Tear’s magic filled the gaps vampirism had left behind.

Or perhaps he’d become something even more powerful than either of them had yet discovered.  

“You’re worried about me.” He observes, caressing her face with his knuckles. “I assure you, Celeste, I’m fine. You can stop treating me like a porcelain doll. I seem to recall you disliking it yourself.” He sinks down onto the pew and leans back.

“Sorry.”

Astarion snorts, “No need for apologies. I rather enjoy being fussed over. It’s sweet that you’re worried.” His voice is dripping with far too much sensuality for a holy temple as he plays with the fabric of her gown, drawing her closer. Silk bunches in his fist as he slides it up her legs, pressing a kiss to her thigh.

“They always have you in such lovely dresses here….”

“We should go-“

“I have stood in the sun, eaten, looked in the mirror, all the things you’ve insisted I partake in today.” He brings her dress to her hip and draws his tongue up the front of her undergarments, wetting the silk. “I’m going to have to insist you indulge me with a rather…simple request.” 

“Astarion-”

He growls, fingertips digging into her thighs as she protests, bringing her closer and balancing the back of her knee on the bend of his elbow. She steadies herself with a foot on the pew next to him while his mouth and tongue work against her through her panties. He hooks a finger under the fabric, pulling it to the side and lapping eagerly at her sex. 

She whines as she watches, one hand squeezing his curls between her fingers to encourage him, the other guiding his face deeper and deeper between her thighs. 

The dress falls back into place as Astarion comes up for air, looking around at the stained glass windows and empty pews.

“Why is it that the most pure of spaces are always the most fit for a bit of debauchery?” 

Celeste swallows, her body aching for where his mouth had just been, wet and hot with anticipation. 

“Well, if it’s blasphemy you’re after, then I suppose we should see to it properly.” He turns her around and situates her into his lap, pushing her legs open and gliding his fingers against the slick of her, his other arm wrapped around her body, holding her chin so she can watch herself.

“That’s my girl,” He encourages her, pushing his middle and ring fingers inside of her, curling them upwards until she jerks at the sensation. His thumb encircles her swollen clit, watching the arousal seep from her, around his fingers, dripping onto the pew beneath them, “let it all out, love…”

She clenches around him and arcs forward, wrapping her arms behind herself around his neck, moaning as a burn spreads from her belly and between her legs.

“Tell me how it feels.” He purrs, his mouth against her ear. 

“Profane.”

“Let’s see if you can take another.” He says and inserts a third digit. Her walls constrict, hot and wet as her cheeks flush bright red.

His words push her to the brink, and with a whine, she reaches her climax while he keeps pleasuring her until she shivers in his embrace. With an amused smile, he removes them, drenched in her arousal. Muffling her whimpering, he pushes them between her lips, eliciting a soft, strangled noise before she suckles on the taste of herself. 

Astarion grins, removing his fingers and taking a fistful of her hair in his fist. 

“Get on your knees.”

Celeste slides from his lap to the floor obediently, guided by his grip on her, the hunger in his eyes deepening when she turns to face him, looking up with a devotion that drives him mad. His thumbs come to stroke her temples.

“Is this alright?” He whispers, waiting for her nod of approval. When she complies, he offers a smile, kissing her as he unravels the laces of his trousers with one hand, freeing himself as he strokes the tip of his weeping cock. 

Celeste draws down his waistband until his pants fall to his ankles and holds him at his base, teasing him between her lips with a maddening lack of urgency. She grins around him as he lets out an impatient moan, carefully guiding himself deeper into her mouth. Her tongue curves around the underside of his cock, moaning and pushing him further back, her mouth becoming wetter for him as she gags herself. 

“Keep going, just like that-“ he chokes out. 

He’s gentle, letting Celeste lead and control the pace as his entire body burns for her. She pumps him in a coaxing motion, head bobbing in rhythm with her movements. Sweat trickles down his forehead as he focuses on the sensation, and there’s something almost reverent in the way he’s staring at her. 

Her lips make a quiet pop as she releases him from her mouth, continuing to stroke him.  

“Is this what you like?”

He whimpers and nods emphatically, breathless. 

She flashes a self-satisfied smirk, enjoying his reaction as it becomes clear this is likely the first time he’sreceived oral on his own terms. It encourages her, and she takes him deep in her mouth enthusiastically until he bottoms out in the back of her throat.

“Exactly like that-“ he manages to choke out, and pulls her head back, stopping himself from climaxing.  

“I’m not through with you yet.” Astarion cradles her face in his hands as he hoists her to her feet. He kisses her deeply, and when he pulls away, there’s a wicked gleam in his eyes. 

“I’m going to ruin you right here, darling.”

And then he’s tearing her dress off over her head, exposing her breasts to the cold air, and pulling her panties to her knees. He presses his mouth to hers, seeking entry, his tongue inquiring against her lips before she parts them. The kiss turns brutal, possessive as he guides her body onto the front pew, skillfully unbuttoning his shirt with one hand. 

“Please,” she pants, rolling her hips up against his. With a sense of urgency, she helps him remove his shirt, the fabric slipping from his shoulders and landing soundlessly on the floor. He’s balanced precariously over her, one knee between her hip and the pew and his other leg anchored on solid ground. Celeste arches her back, the surface cold against her skin, ridges of wood grain caressing the mark of Selûne on her shoulder, a stark reminder of the sacred space they’re defiling.

Ungrateful, wanton, twisted…

“I’d forgotten what it was like to have a pulse.” His lips move frantically over her body between words, words intermingled with kisses and breathless gasps, “to desire someone so strongly that your skin flushes for them, breathing stops for them-”

With a shuddering moan, he grips the back of the bench and aligns himself with her entrance, before thrusting himself inside of her. Their foreheads meet, and she loses herself in the overwhelming pleasure, pushing away any thoughts of guilt or consequence.

“Fuck,” he grunts, adjusting to the feeling of her around him. As she claws at his spine, he silences his own moan by mouthing at her neck. “You had me so close with your mouth, I’m afraid I-”

His head falls back, and he groans through gritted teeth just as she squeezes around him with a high-pitched whine that turns into a series of helpless whimpers. Astarion’s body becomes rigid over hers as he finds his release. Propping himself up with one arm, he pants, his mouth agape, a soft laughter of surprise escaping him.

The strain of holding himself up causes his limb to shake, and he brings his other palm down to steady himself. Slumping to the floor, he rests his back against the pew, and Celeste nestles against him, her head finding solace on his chest, her ear attuned to the rhythm of his racing heartbeat.

“Mortal stamina aside…” He laughs, a breathy sound with a hint of apology. “That was…incredible.”

“I can’t believe-”

Astarion clicks his tongue. “As I recall, you were a more than willing participant, darling.”

The doors open behind them, and Celeste scrambles for her dress, covering herself as the noise echoes against the walls. 

“A church?” Gale says, standing in horror, though not entirely surprised.

Astarion nonchalantly gazes in Gale’s direction, unapologetic, his hands suspended in the air where he’s let go of Celeste. As he stands, he tucks his half-erect member back into his trousers, the fabric sliding over his hips, lacing them as he speaks without looking at the wizard. 

“This is the second time you’ve interrupted us today. Are you feeling left out, Gale? Or just enjoying the show?”

“At least I gave the courtesy of letting you finish.”

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods.” Celeste whispers, looking over her shoulder and fixing her gaze on the window as she her cheeks turn a bright crimson.

“Get up and get dressed.” Gale pinches the bridge of his nose and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s time to go.” 

He turns and leaves, muttering something without glancing back. 

Reluctantly, Astarion retrieves his discarded shirt from the floor with a resigned sigh and offers Celeste a crooked grin. 

“We should do this again sometime.”

[calithso]

do u have art tips (for like anatomy and face expressions and angles)? I was scrolling though your ACC and when I tell you I’m eating ur art, I’m actually digesting it as we speak, I love it sm 😭😭

TRACE!!!! IDC WHAT ANYONE ELSE SAYS. TRACE ART AND LEARN FROM IT. USING 3D MODELS IS OKAY ‼️‼️ PROFESSIONALS DO IT AND YOU CAN TOO ‼️‼️‼️

but of course, don't post it online or claim it as yours, that's just wrong 🫶

BTW THIS IS JUST WHAT I DO. IF ANYONE ELSE HAS SOME TIPS, DROP THEM IT'LL BE GREATLY APPRECIATED!!

art rules are meant to be broken-💥💥💥

i think i'm the worst person to ask for tips cause i don't follow my own guidelines. i've only recently started to use references but i'm usually too lazy to search for them. which is pretty bad since i can't really visualize stuff in my head (your artist has aphantasia)

when i do half body to full body poses, i just use 3d models and start from there. i usually adjust things to my liking after i copy out the pose. i'm still currently learning anatomy so idk what tips to give about it rn BUT i do have some tips

i think angles helps a lot with what mood you want to convey in a drawing. it may also help with expressions. you can use boxes for drawing different angles of the head. i do this when the angle of the head i'm drawing is hard to draw.

an example on how i used it:

another thing you can try is to learn an artist's anatomy style by drawing guidelines on top of a drawing like this:

see how everything is placed and what bodypart is line with what like: the eyes are in the same height as the tip of the ears, the elbow is line with the dip of the waist, etc.

just adjust stuff to your liking. your work doesn't have to be super anatomically accurate, if it is, there's a possibility that the pose might look stiff so change up some things and exaggerate them. just practice some angles, it'll become muscle memory in time.

if it looks nice, then it's good enough 👍

observe and redraw. it's just copying art styles i like and attempting to incorporate it into my own art. my art style inspos are wildwolf_group and donaldakron (i’m also absolutely in love with their lighting and shading) on twitter because the way they draw hair is so nice.

study art styles 👍 i like looking at their sketches and studying how they do specific things like hair and faces in different angles. pinterest is a huge help if you want art inspo. it's okay to copy poses from artworks but be careful to not copy it entirely if the pose looks complicated or unique, you might get accused of theft 😓 (it's brutal out here)

if you want more art tips, i recommend watching bluebiscuits's videos on youtube. speedpaints have also helped me a lot in the past (we need to bring them back <///33) i also recommend watching art streams. i spend a lot of my time on twitch. it helps understand how an artist draws and may also provide inspo.

some art streamers i frequently watch are: uqi32, yyebuan, meanddeadlines, eo58, mikamuse, Teikki_, hazmatEN, jianrouVT, manda, KandaEm, neg_illustration, AmefuRin, owohiropon, shengtaki, thekansta, pixzli, gravitydusty. I KNOW IT'S A LOT BUT I'M ON TWITCH 24/7 😭

there's also user-cm2co1hw2u (twitter: pdman2) and kuzuvine (twitter: ksk535) on youtube

that's all for now. if some of you have more questions (whether personal or art related) just ask away. i don't bite :)

[keen-eye]

got really bored and made the N6 into Club Penguins. couldn’t decide whether they should look like their CC designs, or CT designs, or how they’d design their own penguins, so I did a mix of the 3 / what felt right lol

the N6 as players:

Brooklynn: obsessed with playing the PSA missions. the others always ask her to play with them and she promises to after just one more mission (a lie). investigated the Operation Blackout rumors. she’s constantly searching for secret messages on the island. she uses her coins to buy the most fashionable outfits and loves being the first to find new hidden items in the catalogs. hangs out in the Coffee Shop with everyone

Kenji: wants to have the highest rated igloo, but he’s not very good at the minigames so Yaz plays on his account to get him coins. he scouts other players’ igloos to steal borrow ideas. loves the monthly parties/themes and throwing his own parties. collects Special Actions’ Items (pretends to work everywhere). looks online to know where/when to find rare items (also uses codes). throws snowballs at other players 

Yaz: prides herself on being the best at the minigames. when she wants to play Sled Racing she yells at other players on the Ski Hill to play against her. Darius beat her at Card-Jitsu too many times and now she refuses to play (her excuse is that it doesn't take skill anyway). enjoys the Night of the Living Sled short films and dressing up for the Halloween parties. one time she submitted artwork to be displayed in the game

Darius: as good at the minigames as Yaz but he doesn’t take it nearly as seriously. his favorite game is Card-Jitsu and he’s always trying to get the others to play with him. he earned all the belts in one sitting (then did it on Kenji’s account). plays in the Arcade and reads books in the Book Room. loves anything Rockhopper related. always exploring less popular areas of the island and finding/unlocking secret rooms

Ben: very invested in the in-game conspiracy theories and lore. logs on and immediately tries to tip the Iceberg (hard hat on, pengussy out). tries to convince others of the most random theories. eavesdrops on players misbehaving and follows them around because he’s nosy. has been banned many times for refusing to leave other penguins’ igloos when they tell him to. reports “pookies” because he thinks they’re pedos

Sammy: spends most of her time in the main hangout spots chatting with everyone. she’s been temporarily banned twice for revealing and asking for too much personal information (you can’t ask for someone’s address to send them a care package, Sammy). she’s the best at Puffle Roundup and uses her coins to adopt puffles (she has to get one of every color/type). she takes naming and caring for them very seriously

comments on their designs ->

Brooklynn was the hardest in getting the right outfit/jewelry combo, but I lucked out with her hair. an alternate version of her had glasses but I wanted her to have eyelashes (does she look like a Simpsons character, maybe)

Kenji was originally going to be blue but red just went better with his outfit + vibe. an alternate version of him had sunglasses but I wanted his eyes to be visible

Yaz could have been black, her favorite color like I did with Brooklynn, but she looked better purple. she had good options for hair but not for her outfit

Darius was the easiest (minimalist king), but unfortunately Club P is lacking in textured hair options so this was the best I could do. he could have been green but brown suited him best

Ben is the best imo. the hair and outfit were perfect, but had to settle for a satchel. he could have been peach but he looks better orange

Sammy looks the most like her younger self but no other hair option matched her as well as this one. she could have been yellow but I swapped her and Brooklynn’s colors. she's the only one with expressive eyes

Everyone’s shoe choices were very easy

[kryptid-writes]

Chapter 10 - Alone Again

With Castiel missing, the boys go out to search for their angel, leaving Y/N alone again.

(1.4k)

TW: This chapter briefly discusses alcoholism

“Exorciza… exorcizamus… te omnis….” I slur out, butchering the Latin words far worse than usual, which I’m surprised is even possible, interrupted by the occasional hiccup. “Omnis.. immand… immundus, Ugh!” I groan in frustration, slumping my head onto the library table, the cool wood contrasting with my flushed face. I’ve spent all night rehearsing this damned incantation, never getting past the first few lines.

“How the hell does Sam do this?” I growl, staring down at my nearly empty glass of Jack Daniels Whiskey. I swirl the fancy glass cup of booze, the rigid sound of glass grinds against the wood that’s polish had begun to erode long ago. The clear amber liquid whirls in lazy circles, something I could personally relate too. No matter where my lonely life takes me, I always circle back to the sweet relief of alcohol, the one thing I can always rely on. Some people say life is better through a sober lens. I call bullshit, anyone who makes it through this place without a buzz is doing it wrong. Between the argument with Dean, Sam’s growing doubt, and Castiel up and vanishing, this is all I have left.

I down the last bit of whiskey, the familiar burn soothing my nerves. I stare down at my empty glass in distaste and carelessly slide it across the table. It hits a discarded book a few feet away and tips over, a single remaining drop falling from the cup.

I just want to go home. The message repeats in my head over and over. But then again, I don't really have a home to return to, do I?

Like it usually does, the whiskey catches up with me. My mind becomes foggy, my blood warm and fuzzy. I slump over, pressing my upper body flat against the table. The wood painfully cuts into my ribcage, but I'm too tired to care. The world spins around me and I close my eyes to fight off the impending dizziness and nausea, slowly slipping into a comforting slumber.

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

The blade bites into his skin, leaving fresh slices along his arms. Trickles of red race down his skin, joining the dry streaks of blood that came before. The wounds heal within seconds, even still he groans in pain.

He struggles in the rusty metal chair he’s chained too. The silver chains dripping with oil clang together in resistance. A small ring of fire surrounds him, the white flames remaining an unrelenting burn. He sits along the edge of the circle, the toes of his black dress shoes licked by the roaring fire. His feet fidget, pushing as far back as the restraints allow, desperately trying to escape the unforgiving heat. The stench of burning leather and thick black smoke fills the air.

Lucifer stands menacingly just out of reach, his shoulders back and head held high. The long knife he holds drips with blood, staining the grimey concrete below.

Castiel's clothes are covered in blood, oil, and burn holes. He breathes in heavy, ragged breaths. His ocean blue eyes lull to the ceiling. It seems they’ve been at it for hours.

Lucifer grabs a fistful of Castiel’s unkempt hair, violently yanking his head as far back as the chair would allow. “Now, tell me where you’re hiding her,” Lucifer hisses, menacingly twirling the angel blade in his hand. 

“Go to Hell!” Castiel spits, grinding his teeth.

“Been there, done that,” he replies, looking rather bored. He crouches down to Castiel’s level, innocently gazing into his half lidded eyes. “I grow tired of these games brother,” Lucifer sighs, before plunging the blade deep into his shoulder.

Castiel lets out a strangled cry as Lucifer twists the knife. The sickening sound of flesh churning bounces off the confined walls. Blood trickles out of the laceration, staining his beloved tan trenchcoat a dark crimson shade.

“WHERE IS SHE!” He demands, his irises glow a bright red with passion, illuminating the immediate surroundings of the room.

“The Winchesters are coming, and you of all people know what they’re capable of.” Castiel laughs like a man that has lost his sanity.

Lucifer is not amused. “Let them come.” He stands, drawing the blade from the broken angel's shoulder and wipes the blood off onto his worn denim jeans. “I, for one, am looking forward to slaughtering them. I’ll make it slow and painful. I’ll take pleasure in watching the life drain from their pitiful eyes,” he coos, a deranged smile tugging at his lips.

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

“Y/N.” A big hand gently shakes my shoulder from behind. “Y/N!”

I jolt awake in a state of panic and fall out of my chair, smacking the hard ground below me that will surely leave a bruise on my hips. My heart races so fast that it feels like it could beat out of my chest any moment. “What the fuck Sam!” I yell confused, as I get my bearings and push myself to my feet.

“Sorry.” He puts his hands up defensively. “It’s just you were murmuring and shaking in your sleep, I figured you were having a nightmare.” He looks at me, concerned, trying to read my expression.

“Oh, uh, thanks?” The scenes of my nightmare plays over in my head, a sinking feeling washes over me as I remember what Lucifer is doing to Castiel at this very moment. “Ugh,” I groan, the hangover hitting me full force. I rub my temples to soothe the headache pounding against my skull and squint, the lights suddenly too bright.

“Fun night?” Dean quips, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

I roll my eyes, in no mood for his condescending jokes.

Sam picks up a green duffle bag that sits at his feet, slinging it over his shoulder. He brushes his long locks of hair out of his face, looking around the room for anything he might have missed.

Dean sits at the other end of the table, polishing an angel blade. 

I grimace at the realization that it’s my blood that stains the white, and now red, towel in his hands. A twinge of guilt pangs in my stomach, recalling my actions two nights ago. “Where are you going?” I croak out, my throat unpleasantly dry. 

“To find Cas,” Dean replies, not taking his eyes off the blade.

“What?” I sit up in my chair, suddenly feeling a sense of panic. 

“We have a lead,” Sam replies. “We heard word from a hunter that he may have been spotted questioning people around Chillicothe, Ohio.”

“You won't find him there,” I confess, my tone suddenly serious.

Both Sam and Dean stop what they’re doing, turning their undivided attention towards me.

“You got something you want to share?” Dean asks in an angry tone, slamming the angel blade onto the table with a loud clang.

“Lucifer has him and… he’s not doing well.”

Dean's expression drops from angry to concerned, morphing into vengeful.

“Y/N,” Sam steps in front of me. “I need you to tell us everything you know.” He looks me in the eye, giving me a pleading look.

“He’s being held captive in some sort of dungeon.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Lucifer’s torturing him with an angel blade and he’s surrounded by a small ring of fire.”

“Holy fire,” Sam says to Dean.

“Anything else?” Dean seethed.

“He wants to know where I am.”

Sam and Dean exchange looks. Sam tilts his head slightly, raising his brows in question.

Dean nods his head and grabs the blade, tucking it away in his leather jacket. “Let’s go get our angel,” he says, heading to the exit.

“You don’t even know where he is!” I yell, trying my best to get them to stay. Tears well in my eyes as I remember what Lucifer plans to do to them.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” Sam replies, turning away from me and trailing behind Dean.

“Wait!” I run and grab onto Dean's hand. “Take me with you, I can help!” I plead, meeting his eyes with a desperate look.

Dean thinks for a second, his face turning cold as stone. “You’d just slow us down.” He rips his hand away and walks out the door.

Sam gives me a sorrowful look, before following his brother.

And just like that, they’re gone.

I sink to the floor, devastated, no longer able to contain my tears. I've never felt so alone.



Series Masterlist

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Tags: @roseblue373

[petsync]

Keeping Cool Cats: Essential Tips for Caring for Felines in Warm Weather

It's critical for cat owners to give their feline friends more consideration as the sun's rays intensify and the temperature rises. Cats are susceptible to heat-related illnesses, just like people are, so it's important to take preventative measures to keep them comfortable and safe during hot weather. We'll go over the most recent advancements and practical advice for taking care of cats in warm weather in this blog article. We'll also cover potential risks, advantages, and other important details of summertime cat care.

Recognizing Cats' Heat Sensitivity: It's important to comprehend why cats are especially susceptible to warm weather before delving into specific care instructions. Cats cannot effectively control their body temperature by perspiration, in contrast to humans. Rather, their primary means of dissipating heat are panting and searching for cool surfaces. Furthermore, cats with thick fur coats are particularly vulnerable during the hot summer months since they are more likely to overheat

Possible Dangers to Cats from Hot Weather: Heatstroke: If cats are exposed to extreme temperatures for extended periods of time, they may swiftly pass away from heatstroke. Excessive panting, drooling, fatigue, vomiting, and even collapse are some of the symptoms. Heatstroke is a medical emergency that needs to be treated by a veterinarian right away. Dehydration: Cats are more likely to become dehydrated in hot weather, particularly if they don't have access to a sufficient amount of fresh water. Serious health problems, such as renal problems and urinary tract infections, can result from dehydration. Sunburn: Light-colored or thin-coated cats are more prone to sunburn, especially on their noses, ears, and other exposed parts of their bodies. Cats who spend a lot of time in the sun are more likely to develop

 skin cancer.

Benefits of Proper Care in Warm Weather: 

You may help prevent potential health issues and maintain your cat's overall well-being by taking proactive steps to keep them cool and comfortable during hot weather. Benefits of receiving the right care include:

Enhanced Comfort: Giving your cat access to a cool, shaded space keeps them calm and comfortable, lowering stress levels and encouraging improved mental and physical health. Prevention of Heat-Related Illnesses: You may drastically lower your cat's risk of heatstroke and dehydration by keeping an eye on their behavior and implementing preventative steps like giving them access to cool areas and fresh water. Stronger Bond: Taking care of your cat's needs, particularly in difficult situations like the heat, makes your relationship with your animal companion stronger and promotes trust.

Essential Tips for Caring for Cats in Warm Weather:

Make Sure Your Cat Has Access to Clean, Fresh Water: Make sure your cat has access to clean, fresh water at all times. You should also think about setting up many water bowls around your house. Another way to keep the water chilly is to add ice cubes to it. Construct Cool Retreats: Provide cool, shady spots for your cat to hide from the heat in your house. This may be giving your cat access to cold, tiled surfaces or installing a fan or air conditioner in an area they frequently use. Limit the amount of time spent outside: Keep your cat inside during the hottest hours of the day to reduce their exposure to the sun and the heat outside. If your cat likes to be outside, you might want to think about getting an outside cage for them or letting them play outside under supervision.

Regular Grooming: To keep your cat cool, regularly brush their fur to get rid of stray hair and avoid matting. But take care not to entirely shave your cat's fur since this can put them at risk for skin injury and sunburn. Give Your Cat Frozen Goodies: To help your cat stay hydrated and cool off, give them frozen goodies like ice cubes or specially-made cat ice cream. Keep an eye out for overheating symptoms: Watch closely for any indications of heat-related discomfort in your cat, such as increased panting, sluggishness, or vomiting. Move your cat to a cooler location right away and call your veterinarian if you think they may be overheated.

It takes diligence, attention to detail, and a proactive attitude to care for cats in warm weather in order to assure their comfort and safety. You may contribute to your cat's health and happiness this summer by being aware of the possible risks associated with heat, appreciating the advantages of good care, and putting some basic cooling techniques into practice. Recall that keeping your cool cat comfortable during the summer requires a little additional attention.

[heartthumpnovel]

Heart Thump: The Cursed Prince AU

Part 2

Word Count: 9846 Since the short got about nearly a 100 notes (Holy shit you guys :'D) I kind of have to create the promised follow up. This is gonna be a mini-series I think to help break up the monotony of writing the canon story while still being related. Chapter 7 in canon is still cooking so, have this second part being about Natasha convincing Jason to do the one thing I get asked often.... to touch grass. Part 1 Part 2 (you are here)

cw: Implied past abuse, panic attack

—

The morning light flooded gently into the bedroom window as it reflected on the dust settling in the cluttered bedroom. While it wasn’t a complete mess, it had various garments and sewing supplies scattered throughout with a half-completed lute lay on the desk. Definitely needed some love and care around the place.

During the morning rise as the room brightened up, a figure shifted and moaned in the bounds of pillows that nearly covered every square inch of the bed. A dark and nicely taken care of hand reached out from the mountain of pillows to search the bedside for the goblet of water. Her fingers felt the cold marble of it and attempted to grab it, however she missed the mark on it and shuffled the goblet just far enough to where it tipped on the end and made a loud thunk on the floor. “Gods damn it.” Natasha mumbled, dragging herself out of bed. She pulled off the towel that was holding her hair as she forced herself into consciousness. Her dark curled hair fell onto her shoulders and a bit into her eyes. She huffed and rubbed her eyes, wondering what time it was supposed to be as it felt like she just got back into bed.

She could smell the morning dew and saw that the light had entered her bedroom, if she had to guess it was just after daybreak. Her eyes widened. “Oh! OH-!” She shouted as she ripped the sheets off of her and let the pillows be thrown all around her bed as Natasha leapt out of bed. 

“Craaaap- I was supposed to finish it today before.. Ugh!” Natasha strode to the lute she was in the middle of repairing and sighed as her fingers trailed the wood of the base. 

“Suppose there’s next time...” Natasha mumbled as she stepped away and opened her wardrobe with force. Her arms searched through the closet that could have been deep enough to hold at least one lion. 

“Right, thinkin’ pink today… ” Natasha said to herself as she rushed to put on her normal going out wear which comprised a nice yet reliable blouse with a vest and her nice riding pants, “And just to be on the safe side…” Natasha pulled out her shoulder guard and attached the belt to her chest. Can never be too safe in the wilder woods, even if everyone she’s met there has been friendly. Though the one person who she met out there was a guy who was trapped in a tower by their royally messed up family, she still considered that one friendly face out there. 

With that, Natasha rushed to her dresser and did her best to braid up her hair on short notice. The dressed up Natasha strolled out of her room and paced down the hallway, trying to think of ideas to bring to her meeting with the cursed prince. Originally it was going to be her bringing some delightful music to play, though her lute broke a few moons back unfortunately, and she’d been procrastinating on fixing the thing. 

While he was on her journey down the hall, the servants doing chores gave their greetings to the noble lady as she passed by them, in turn she also greeted them with a warm smile. “Mornin’ Farin!” “Good day, Sanguine!” “How’s that leg treating you Steven? Hope it gets better soon!” Natasha then made it to the main hall where there was a grand staircase leading to the entryway. Just as she was about to jostle down the stairs, she could hear a woman clear her throat. Natasha sighed and turned around to be met with Miss Gurnda, the chef her mother hired ages ago. “Morning Gurnda, do you need anything?” Natasha asked genuinely. “Oh dear Lady Natasha, Sorry for keeping you but, I’ve noticed you’ve not been home during morning breakfast or lunch. Are you eating well?” The older woman asked with concern in her eyes. “Awwhh,” Natasha said, scratching the back of her head, “I’m sorry ma’am… spring is the best to forage for herbs and I’ve been trying to make sure I’ve had enough supplies before summer hits.” 

Natasha then raised an eyebrow, “Wait what’s that basket for?” Natasha asked as she pointed at a basket with a cloth covering something that smelled of roasted garlic and potato. 

The older woman gave a chuckle and moved the cloth a bit to reveal some nicely done potato rolls, still steaming and the scent was mouthwatering. “I know I won’t be able to keep you here,” The chef said as she handed the basket over to Natasha, “But it will be a chilly day in hell if I left my little rosebud to starve out there.” 

Natasha held the basket handle in her arms, feeling her heart flutter and she reached out an arm to hug Gurnda enthusiastically. “Awh thanks Gurnda!” She cheerfully spoke as she held the basket close to her side, “You’re too sweet.” 

Gurnda returned the gesture with a hug of her own before Natasha made her way down the stairs. The old chef could have sworn that Natasha was in a happier mood than usual. Before Gurnda could wave off Natasha, the noble lady turned around from the grand doors and looked up at her, “Oh and could you do me a favor?” Natasha asked, “Don’t tell ma or pa I’m out in the woods again.” The chief raised a suspicious eyebrow before chuckling. “Alright but, you’re going to be the one to tell them my lady.” 

“I’ll tell them when they stop tellin’ me what to do.” Natasha returned with a grin before she pushed the front doors open to leave. Gurnda sighed as she walked off to do her morning duties as she shook her head. 

----

Natasha rushed towards the stables with her basket of delicious goods as she traversed through the front gardens. She passed by the neatly trimmed hedges and blooming marigolds with a spring in her step. Happy to get to see the cursed prince, as if she was young again and was skipping to a playdate with their childhood best friend.  

Sure, it had only been a month, but visiting Jason during her herb runs had become the highlight of Natasha's days. She never imagined finding happiness while harvesting lavender in the allegedly dangerous wildwoods, where only brave souls dared to venture. But the moment she saw the man grumpily yelling at her to leave, call it cliché if one must, it was love at first sight.

In all the tales and rumors about the cursed Atlas prince, none of them ever described that the giant trapped in the woods was handsome and a cute flustered mess. Though the rumor mill is rarely honest and she found it quite sad to hear people still believing that he’s just some Atlas super weapon gone terribly wrong. Instead of seeing a monster reaching out of the tower to eat nearby travelers, she had seen a lonely man who just needed to get outside. Natasha sighed at that prospect as she left the luscious gardens and headed towards the stables to get her horse ready for another trek in the woods. Despite having spoken with Jason multiple times since their first meeting, he seemed disinterested in leaving the small prison tower. While it was understandable that he feared people hunting him down, Natasha couldn't help feeling crestfallen whenever he gazed wistfully towards the outside world.

"Hey Nirvana," Natasha greeted her white and brown spotted steed, who was busy munching on hay, "You ready to go?" The horse responded with a huff before pulling its head out of the hay, swishing its tail indifferently. Natasha brushed her fingers through the horse's mane and secured the basket of delicious dumplings.

“Where the hells do you think you’re going?” a familiar gruff voice spoke up that made Natasha’s shoulder’s jump. Damn it.

Natasha smiled and turned around to see her childhood best friend and coincidentally, the head of the city guard. The knight was already dressed down from head to toe in his steel armor that only lacked his helmet to let his brown curly hair lie low as it allowed him to show his disapproved scowl. “Ohhh heeeyy Axel,” Natasha said, “How’s it going?” “Don’t give me that ya weasel,” Axel spoke with his hands going to his hips, “You’ve literally been ditching sword training all week.” He would not let her off the hook. Natasha sighed as she turned back to her horse to complete tying the basket to the saddle, “You know I really don’t gotta do that, unlike you knights.” She commented with a side eye as she could feel the angry stare Axel was giving her through his bangs. 

“Yeah I guess but, who was the one to ask about getting trained!?” Axel scoffed, he clasped his two hands together and pressed them on his cheek as he pretended to speak with an exaggerated higher pitch and whimsy.

"Oh, Axel, you're so strong and badass! If only I, a child with a silver spoon in my mouth, could swing a sword like you! Could you pwetty pwease teach me your ways so I can defend myself in the big scary woods while I pick pretty flowers?~" “Oh shut up! I don’t talk like that.” Natasha retorted with an eye roll, “Look I’m sorry I’ve not been able to make it, I’ve just been busy with spring.” 

Axel huffed, leaning against the barn wall behind Natasha. "Come on, Nat, what's really going on?" he asked, watching as Natasha tried her best to ignore him. "You love beating up the hay dummies at the training grounds."

Natasha loved Axel like a brother, but he could also be annoying like one too. "I'm practicing a special formation called Nyanabussiness, bloodhound," Natasha said, making the mistake of glancing up at him. That one point of eye contact was enough for Axel to understand what she was hiding.

“You…” Axel said with a mischievous grin, “Youuuu are sneaking out to see someone!” Damn it. The knight burst into laughter with the sounds of his chain-mail clanking. He put a hand on his forehead and tried to regain his composure to speak as Natasha’s cheeks darkened. She sputtered trying to hide what she already pulled out to the open. “It-it’s not like that-” Natasha tried to interject though the knight wasn’t letting up. 

"AHAHAHA- oh gods, this is rich!" Axel exclaimed before patting Natasha's shoulder hard, "Who's the unlucky sod?"

The noble laughed before shoving the knight away playfully, “We’re not courting!” Natasha said, “We’ve just been hanging out at his place since he’s a bit of a hermit.” 

“Oh wow,” Axel said as he scratched his slightly hairy jaw, “The daughter of politicians is going out to see a lowly hermit in the wilder woods… scandalous.” He smirked as he watched Natasha untie the reins off of the stable’s post. “It won't be scandalous if nobody finds out.” Natasha pointed out as she grabbed the saddle of her steed and hopped right onto the horse. Axel just stood there and crossed his arms, he knew better than to stop her. 

"Alright, well, take care, will ya? I ain’t in the mood to come and rescue you," Axel said half-jokingly as Natasha rode the horse out of the stable. She didn't bother to look back and responded with a sarcastic thumbs up as the horse galloped away.

Axel shook his head with a tsk under his breath, hoping that Natasha knew what she was doing.

----

Most people feared the wilder woods for a good reason; it was a dangerous place if one wasn’t careful. While the forest itself seemed perfectly safe at first glance, with beautiful flora growing and the wild life thriving in this ecosystem, it was dense and made for a good hiding spot for bandit camps or rogue magic users. Since it was also the middle point of the Atlas and Solaris kingdom with a rather profitable trade route, many who worked outside the law found this forest to be a haven for their robberies. 

Thankfully Natasha had known a good part of these woods for a while and usually traveled away from the primary routes. Her horse was trained to traverse off of paths and she had steered clear of smoke from campfires. Criminals weren’t the only thing she was cautious of however, she had heard of fae being active in the area and while she had seen none herself; she made a note to avoid rings of mushrooms and marked focus sites. And then there are those who warned of the mysterious giant. That one she chose to ignore. 

Her heart raced as she found the grove that had hidden away the initial path to the clearing with the tower. Natasha didn’t want to risk getting her horse hurt from having to traverse through the underbrush, so she tied Nirvana up to a tree branch. Before she left through the bushes, she untied the basket from the saddle and patted the steed gently on his muzzle. “That’s a good boy…” Natasha whispered as she pulled her hand away, “Yell if there’s trouble you hear me?” The horse huffed in acknowledgement before it leaned it’s neck down to eat the luscious grass growing by the tree’s roots. Natasha turned to the grove and made her way through the prickly bushes and leaves as she protected the goods within the basket. By now she knew her way through the branches and had made a small path for herself after countless visits. She was cautious to not get her clothes torn because she wouldn’t hear the end from her mother. 

Once she pushed aside the final bush, she saw the aging stone brick tower that was settled within the forest clearing. If Natasha wasn’t aware of the context that prison held, it would have been a nice centerpiece for a painting. It wasn’t a watch tower, she had seen similarly designed buildings before. The tower that stood tall in front of her was a prison for those who were banished, thus the maddening monotony of the brickwork was hardly a pleasant subject for a picture.

The noble wondered how in the world Jason held himself together in that place. Natasha wished deep within her heart that he would just let her free him to avoid such a terrible fate. 

Never minding that, she pressed on through the clearing and traversed over the small walking bridge to get to the base of the tower. She cleared her throat and called up to the lone stone balcony to beacon the prince. 

“Rapunzel, Rapanuzel, let down your hair!” Natasha yelled. “How many times are you going to use that joke?!” The voice from up above responded.

“Hey, I still think it’s funny!” Natasha responded as she crossed her arms. She listened closely from below, as she could hear a little clanking and rustling. This time around she pondered if she was going to see him large once more. He had ‘shifted’ for lack of a better word to describe it, twice after their first meeting. However, he hasn’t shifted drastically since then or, she just hadn't noticed. While it pained her a little to not witness the magical phenomenon again, she understood that it wasn’t her choice to make.

Eventually, she spotted those adorable wide hazel eyes peeking over the stone balcony, and those thin piano-like fingers clutching onto the edge. A smile spread across her face as she raised her hand to wave at the prince within the tower.

"Hey, how's it going, big guy?" Natasha called upwards, unsure if Jason had transformed into his taller state, as the distance between them made it hard to tell.

Jason revealed his smooth face and lanky chest, flashing a sweet dimpled smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, you know, not doing much out here," Jason replied, "Though I did finally figure out a good balance to make tea from the lavender you graciously gave me." He twiddled his thumbs over the edge of the balcony, contemplating something important. “Uhm, would you kindly join me for a spot of tea?” He asked, loud enough to be heard but quiet because of nervousness. “You want me to climb up there?!” Natasha excitedly asked, fully prepared to make the climb if she had to- but, right after saying that Jason shot down her suggestion. “OH, no no no!” Jason exclaimed as he waved his hands, “I-I wouldn’t want you to accidentally injure yourself from climbing up here and me being.. well, me.” Natasha felt disappointed for a moment, “Awh… then how-" Before she could finish Jason pushed away from the balcony and came back with a tied basket in hand. He smiled in pride as he patted the items covered in the basket. “Keeping safety in mind, I’d thought I would just send your portion just uh, be careful with my tea set will you?” Jason said with sheepish politeness in his speech, “It’s the only one I have.” 

While it was a downer that they would not be meeting face-to-face, she guessed he wasn’t ready for that yet. Natasha brushed off the disappointment with an excited thumbs up and a wink. 

“I’ll treat it as gently as a newborn,” Natasha swore as she raised a hand in oath. With that, Jason gently hung his basket on the rope so graciously given to him from the first time they met. The basket slowly came down and it landed softly between Natasha’s palms as she reached up to it. 

As she untied the basket from the rope, it ascended once more. Natasha wasn't about to let that happen. “Woah, hold on there, your majesty,” Natasha's voice was filled with playful reproach as she tied her own parcel with the rope. Of course, she nabbed one bun before tugging on the rope twice. 

It took a couple of moments of stunned silence when the basket disappeared from Natasha’s sight for Jason to acknowledge what Natasha sent up. This gesture felt just like a gift exchange as they each unraveled the goods within their respective baskets. 

“You made pastries!?” Jason exclaimed as his head popped out of the window, she could tell he was smiling, “Oh gods, you didn’t have to feed me!” 

“Kinda obligated to,” Natasha spoke as she unfolded the blankets that were keeping the teapot warm, “We’re friends now after all.” 

Natasha heard the tower’s bricks crumble a bit from above as she unveiled a surprisingly humble tea set. It was indeed porcelain, though it was plain white and had a single blue rose insignia on the side of the pot itself. Sure it was nice though, she expected a royal first born like Jason to have something more gaudy.

She held it up to examine it further with her curious dim wine eyes before pouring a cup of her own. Smells of the lavender and honey had a very relaxing effect on her senses the moment she poured it. Definitely wasn’t something she should drink this early in the day but, she was gracious for the free drink.

“Dang this really nice,” Natasha said as she held the teacup in her lap, “It’d be great for a bad night’s sleep that’s for sure.” The lack of response from Jason prompted her to look up to see he had gone back into the tower. The first thing she noticed when he did return was his towering form, about as tall as a healthy apple tree, crouched from below the window frame. She had to try extremely hard to hold back laughter when it looked like he had a comically small teacup and plate in his large hands. Despite the sight looking ridiculous, his fingers held it regally as a future king should and rolled his eyes, Wondering what was so funny. 

“Ahem- Apologizes if the tea is a bit sedative,” Jason spoke as he held the tiny cup to his lips, “I’m used to preparing it this way so I can calm down whenever … this happens.” With that he inhaled deeply and despite being farther away, Natasha could see his form shrink immediately with a calmed sigh. With that- Jason took a sip. “Ahh, see? Much better..” He said as he leaned on the side of the balcony to gain a better viewpoint of Natasha. 

“This stuff isn’t going to shrink me too is it?” Natasha asked as she was in mid-sip.

Jason had to hold back laughter to not spill his tea and swallow harshly in order to correct her. He cleared his throat with a few pats to his chest. “Ahem- Heavens no!” Jason explained, “Height altering stuff like that doesn’t exactly work on me, plus even if it did- I wouldn’t think of spiking you with it!”  Jason stirred the tea with a small silver spoon as he shook his head. “It’s just a calming agent,” Jason said, “Frankly it’s not even alchemy and yet, for some reason works the best to help me get back into the right shape.” 

A pit fell within Natasha’s stomach. ‘Right shape’?  Something about the way he was referring to himself wasn’t sitting right with her. Her eyes stared into her cup for a moment in silence, thinking. 

“Uh?” The voice from above spoke in confusion, “Is everything alright Lady Maryrose?”

Natasha suddenly chugged down the lavender tea and set her cup in the basket with a determined look on her face that was barely masked with a sweet smile. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” Natasha said, “I think this tea party would be a lot nicer if we were by a scerne lake, wouldn’t you agree?” By the look of his grimminced face that too was also masked by a grin, his voice seemed to be peaceful but his eyes told a much different story. “I-I mean I suppose it would-” Jason shuddered as he put his own drink down, “Shame really.”

“Why shame though?,” Natasha interjected as she put one hand on her hip and the other pointed her thumb to the woods, “I know a great secluded pond near here that I think you’d like-” “You know I can’t do that!” Jason interrupted, a tinge of sadness prevailed through his firmness, “The cursed prince of the Anderheart family AKA, ME, stays in the tower in order lest he cause the end of the world!”

“Says who? Your dad? I don’t see him around to catch you sneaking out ya know.” Natasha spoke with a grin as she laid a hand on the stone walls, “Even from down here I know you couldn’t hurt a fly if you tried.”

“I-uh, No, I mean-” Jason fumbled as he crossed his arms inward, “What-what if I can’t control myself and accidentally step on you!?” She had the audacity to shrug. “Eh, accidents happen.” “...Natasha.” 

Before the prince could acknowledge Natasha’s rather self destructive behavior, she placed her hand on the wall gently as she looked up at him with eyes that were just as earnest as a kitten. “Wouldn’t it be nice to change scenery once in a while Jason?” Natasha said, “You have your calming agent with you so if you get uncomfortable out here we can deal with it.” She then clasped her hands together with a smile, “I’ll admit, I’d really like to see you up close.” 

Jason's expressions were unreadable as he turned away. Anxieties bubbled within Natasha as she wondered if it was too early to make such a request. She knew he was resolute about staying indoors, yet, as an outsider looking in, it pained her to witness anyone in such misery. This simply wasn’t just. 

“I suppose if one were to think about it…” Jason spoke up, Natasha darted her gaze upward, “It seems like curing my curse isn’t going to be an option, so perhaps I could train myself to stay calm and be basically normal. ” 

Natasha sighed, while that wasn’t exactly the mindset she was hoping for, it was going to be better than nothing. “So are you gonna come out?” Natasha asked. “...Yes.” Jason answered, he turned around whipping his face with his long silk sleeve.

----

“Actually- I might not be too sure about this!” Jason squealed as he was holding onto the rope, his butt having not even left the stone balcony. He sat upon the balustrade with both of his legs dangling. He could already feel the sweat form on his palms as he was gripping on the twine. They’d already been able to get the basket into Natasha’s arms and the last thing they needed to send down was the cowardly prince himself.

While a door would have been the more sane option, these towers weren’t made for prisoners to just up and leave. The only way to enter the tower, or for things to be transported in, was this measly balcony. Sure it wasn’t a problem for his druid friend who could turn into a bird anytime she pleased but, Jason was far from any wild shape master.

“You’re gonna be fine!” Natasha shouted upwards, “Just hold on to the rope and step down against the stone wall real slowly, you don’t want rope burns!” She set the basket down next to the teapot package beside her and outstretched her arms. “I’ll catch ya if you fall,” she said with a wink, “You trust me right?” “Ri-right…” Jason mumbled, he wasn’t sure if he’d developed a fear of heights or if the little Atlas pleaser in the back of his mind was telling him he was making a grave mistake. However, he’d gotten this far, and he didn’t want to get her hopes up for nothing. 

Jason took in a deep breath of the spring air, closed his eyes, slowly pushed himself off the edge and pressed his heels onto the stone wall. If it weren’t too late to turn back now, he’d be scrambling to get back to the safety of his cage. His heart was beating out of his chest and sweat dripped from his forehead as he hopped his way down. He nearly fumbled as for a moment his left foot lost traction, he gripped on tight to the rope with another squeal with his eyes held shut. His scrawny arms had already strained as he held onto dear life. “Get yourself back onto the wall Jason!!” called Natasha, her worry starting to set in, “You’re doing great for your first time!”

“I doubt that…” mumbled Jason as he swung his legs back into position and made another kick down. About two-thirds of the way through, the climb had already felt like hours rather than just mere moments and Jason was putting his full focus into not-- 

“KA-CAWH!” “AH!- aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” 

An unfortunate crow decided that moment was the perfect time to swoop down near the eardrums of the prince and scream the song of its people. Good for the bird, not great for Jason as his hands lost grip on the rope. Jason screamed, believing his short and rather pathetic life had ended in an ironic tragedy. 

“Oh sh- I GOT YOU!” Was the last thing Jason heard before he shut his eyes, his world going dark. 

---- 

"AGH! Oh my Gods—Jason, are you alright!?" Natasha exclaimed, her voice filled with concern, as she felt Jason's limp body fall into her arms. "J-Jason!? Anderheart!? Your majesty, are you okay?!" she cried out.

She kept her balance despite the surprise leap as she stumbled from the impact. Her arms instinctively held onto him tight, her heart feeling like it could burst out of her chest with fear. Looking down upon the prince, she could feel him breathing through her hands. Releasing a sigh of relief, Natasha jostled him a little to see if he would wake up. That’s when she noticed a few things about him. Firstly; he was tiny. Not as small as a halfling or a forest elf but, he was definitely short for a grown man and he was as light as a barely filled sack of cabbages. On account of his gangly arms, he definitely wasn’t fit enough to scale the tower. Natasha wasn’t even a classically strong woman herself and yet, she was having no problem holding him.

Secondly; she noticed his pale skin which looked like it hadn't seen direct sunlight in a while, which to be fair, was the truth. Despite this however, it wasn’t pristine as there were a few tattle tale bruises from his collarbone and forehead. It didn’t take a genius to surmise that these were from surprise growth spurts from the claustrophobic walls of the chamber. If it went for the regal clothing and the sparkly dark opal on his circlet, people would believe he was in prison for a decade. 

Lastly… well, he was strikingly handsome. Natasha had to admit when she first saw him, she thought he was pretty cute from far away but, up close it was like the gods blessed this man with the jawline and fae-like daintiness. She’d felt a pang of guilt for teasing him when they first met. Sure, it probably was flirting but, her playful flirting was used to see if she could call a bluff about ‘magical growth powers’ Jason warned about. A groan startled Natasha out of her thoughts, noticing that Jason stirred and his doe-like hazel eyes, that were hidden behind his knocked askew lenses, squinted from the light. 

“Ugh, did I make … it…” Jason murmured, his fingers rising to re-adjust his glasses, before his eyes fully widened as they were met with eyes of near celestial dim wine eyes.

While they were both blushing, Jason’s face turned completely pink and despite being in a trance, Natasha could feel her arms suddenly undertake a mysterious weight. Suddenly, Jason squirmed dramatically and pushed himself out of her comforting embrace. Natasha would have been more disheartened about that if she hadn’t seen his previously frail form lurch in height.

She let the fallen angel go and bore witness to the curse, almost doubling him in size, though he somehow still looked lanky even if he was in the same size class as an earth troll. Natasha was struck with awe, staring at him without saying a word for a moment. While no fear touched Natasha’s heart in the slightest, the feeling wasn’t shared with Jason. 

The, now 7ft, prince’s face flashed with terror as he backed up against the stone walls of the tower. His gaze darted between Natasha and at the stone balcony above as he tried to catch his hyperventilating breath.  “No no no no!” Jason finally spoke up with a distinct stuttering in his voice, “It’s already happening, This was a mistake!” He spun around and attempted to grab the stone bricks with his large frail hands, failing to get anywhere as his palms stung from the rope burn. 

“I-I need to get back inside!” he shouted in panic, not noticing Natasha approached him once again to get his attention. 

“Jason?… Jason…” Natasha’s pleas fell on panic-stricken ears, “Hey, it’s okay!” She huffed when her voice was being tuned out by the prince’s scared ramblings. Her initial approach of treating Jason like a frightened rabbit wasn’t working out, so she took the next step.

His flowing shirt sleeve was jerked down hard enough to where Jason finally shut his mouth in surprise. His own shoulders tensed and he turned his gaze back down. When their eyes met once more, Natasha’s heart fell as his eyes were trembling and nearly welling up in tears.  

Oh, the poor thing.

"And check it out, you’re free!" Natasha reassured, her gesture encompassing the blossoming meadow that surrounded them. A smile graced her lips, beholding the realization dawned upon Jason. He fell into silence, his mouth slightly agape as he contemplated the situation. His eyes left Natasha and his gaze fell upon the lively grove that surrounded the tower. 

Gradually, he moved, stepping away from the tower and crossing a small water stream. Natasha followed close behind him, her grin stretching from ear to ear. She couldn't help but wonder about the sensation of breaking through the constraints that had bound him for so long.

His near-pristine shoes brushed against the fresh grass and the gentle spring breeze lifted his charcoal hair gently. There was a pause in his movement and Jason just stood there, presumably taking it all in. Natasha trotted to catch up with his longer legs and crossed her arms, joining him in admiring how lovely the forest was. 

Warmness filled her heart, seeing the childlike wonder in his eyes from the wilderwood’s kind greeting. The sunlight held the prince’s skin in a motherly embrace and songs were sung by the insect fauna. At that moment, it was as if she was seeing a whole new person.

A tear dripped down his cheek, which was followed by a soft smile. 

“Not bad huh?” Commented Natasha, nearly tearing up herself. “No… not bad at all.” Jason responded. 

----

Truly, words from Jason’s favorite novels could not have described the lovely ambiance of an enchanting forest. Glances through his window had only a fraction of the majesty of a soft breeze and the sounds of thriving life surrounding them. It was beautiful, and with the sun warming their casual stroll, one would assume Jason would have been having the time of his life. 

That couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

In actuality, Jason was in complete inner turmoil whether Natasha knew it or not. It was only just a couple of minutes since they left the view of the tower, but Jason was already being plagued with thoughts of doubt; wondering if he was a bad person for putting the world in jeopardy for a simple picnic, and he was hyper aware of every thought that passed through his mind. He’d already lost control when he fell into the comforting embrace of Natasha when he stupidly let go of the rope. Now he’d be stuck being as tall as a horse, if that horse was on hind legs. 

On the other hand though, it proved useful that he could now carry both baskets easily and keep walking pace with Natasha, who was on her steed. It would only be a minute before they arrived at this pond the noble spoke of, by then Jason could drink the tea and shrink back to normal as planned. 

However, Jason was now finding it much, much harder to control his thoughts as he’d discovered something else detrimental to the picnic plan that he didn’t account for.  

He foolishly fell in love. 

Perhaps it was the rush of being saved by a captivating and free-spirited noblewoman, but when he looked into her mystical eyes, it was as if Cupid's arrow had struck him. Unfortunately, his curse, triggered by a racing heart, wasn't connected to happiness. It was specifically romantic love that caused his growth spurts. While romantic themes in literature or daydreams about being saved by a knight could trigger the curse, he had never actually felt romantic love for another person until now. Jason barely made eye contact with Natasha since they left the tower, though he’d unconsciously risk looking at her as they kept conservation. It might have been the newness of being this close to another human being that wasn’t Ellinor, but he couldn’t help but to take in the details he noticed about Natasha, now that they were side-by-side. For trekking out in the woods as often as she did, her blouse with intricate lace was prim and proper for a lady in a well off household. Even her riding pants were only a bit stained at the bottom from the kicked up dirt. Though despite the initial daintiness her appearance was, she had a steel arm guard on her shoulder and a standard short sword holstered at her hip. Jason remembered her mentioning that she was trained to weld a blade for protection. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like she had to use it very often. What really caught his attention though, was the soft cheeks of her face and lovely eyes. Plus her braided hair was extremely impressive, and she pulled off the look very well. 

“Ahem, Jason?” Natasha spoke up as she caught him blatantly staring at her. Jason looked down, noticing that the basket handles he had looped on his forearms were suddenly tight. The horse needed to have a pat on the head to calm itself when Jason suddenly sprouted another foot and a half. “S-sorry! I’m trying to keep it together the best that I can out here…” He mumbled, swiftly staring down at his now dirted leather shoes, “I’m doing a rather terrible job at it.”

“You’re doing just fine, big guy,” Natasha responded, “You’ve haven’t attempted to flee to that dinky prison more than once.” “That’s not even what I meant…” Jason grumbled, turning his gaze back to Natasha, “Could I ask you something actually?”

“Try me,” Natasha said, looking up at the giant with an eager grin.

“Why are you not terrified right now?” Jason said as matter of factly as asking how someone’s day went, “Everyone else, even Ellinor, gets tense when I transform like this.”  

Natasha jolted a bit when she had to hold back a huge laughing fit, this just confused Jason even more. Before Natasha could give her explanation, Jason leaned down a bit over her in confusion.

“I’m serious!” Jason said, “Just because I’m not prone to violence and raised to be a polite young prince doesn’t make the growth any less strange! How are you calm about all this!?” Upon catching her breath from the laugh she had to hold back, Natasha closed her eyes confidently, petting the back of her steed’s mane. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re capable of hurting anybody,” Natasha said, “Not only that, My best friend is a lycan and trust me, those guys have it much more gruesome compared to your little spurts.”

At first Jason nodded, thinking that was a perfectly reasonable response until… “Wait!? A LYCAN!? You mean a werewolf!?” Spouted Jason, thinking he somehow heard wrong as there was no way a gentlelady like Natasha could be associated with one of the most dangerous beings to roam the Atlas forests. He had never encountered one himself, but he has read stories of mortal men being cursed to turn into fearsome beasts and eat innocent people. Natasha could see Jason’s face run pale, but didn’t let Jason squawk the lies he’s been fed. “Right, I almost forgot you’re Atlan,” Natasha said, “Most of them are nothing like the stories in your books, They’re pretty much sentient as humans are and got instincts of a dog, not a monster.” 

“But-but the attacks..” Jason mumbled. “Either bandits, or newbies who think the only way to fill their hunger is by eating people because that’s what they were told werewolves do.”

“Oh-oh..” Jason didn’t exactly have proof of his own to stand on, and the fact he is a cursed man himself didn’t have the right to assume terrible things about others. “I suppose I trust your judgment more than anyone else’s,” Jason said, “I’m sorry for assuming your friend was a beastly brute…” “Oh no he totally is,” Natasha responded with a laugh, “While he gets on my nerves, he’s been there for me since we were kids.”  “Ah.. I see,” Jason said as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Truly you are not a judgmental person.”

“What’s there to judge?” Natasha said nonchalantly. “Right we’re just about there.” 

After turning the corner, blocked by thorn bushes, Jason let out an audible gasp upon beholding the breathtaking lake. He had encountered depictions of lakes in drawings, but this scene far surpassed his expectations. The sight before him exceeded his imagination; the water sparkled under the midday sun, while life teemed in vibrant abundance all around it.

“Whatcha think?” Natasha asked, dismounting her horse and securing the lead to a nearby branch. Jason had already begun making his way toward the lake, emitting a low whistle. The innate beauty of nature had always drawn the prince, it also served as a distraction from certain matters on his mind. “The water looks nice,” Jason commented as he set the baskets down on the lush grass near the water’s edge, “Didn’t expect a lake filled with this much life to be so clear.”

Natasha was quick to approach his side and playfully elbowed his free arm with a smile. “You wanna go for a dip?” Natasha suggested, though Jason’s eyes darted away from her with embarrassed mumbles. "Actually, I can't swim," Jason admitted candidly. "Life in the tower and all that..." “Oh,” Natasha’s spirit fell a little, though life returned to her eyes when she spun around and raced towards her horse. “That’s alright! Let me get the blanket!” It didn’t take long for the picnic to be set up as they brought little to eat. However humble it was though, it was more than enough for the both of them. After all, the food and drink played second fiddle to the enjoyable company they shared. Jason had to confess that the buns Natasha had brought were not only the spiciest but also the most delectable filled pastries he'd ever tasted. 

The conversation they shared started small, but like meadow flowers, it bloomed beautifully. At one point the both of them were having so much fun, Jason’s height relaxed to a size where he could comfortably sit on the checkered blanket.

“There actually hasn’t been another heir in your kingdom,” Natasha explained as she stirred her spoon in her cup, “From what I heard, the current king is having terrible luck bearing any, so technically you’re still next in line if you wanted the crown.” “Ugh,” Jason groaned, “Even if the people magically want me to be their ruler somehow, I don’t think I’d be cut out for it...” He shifted his arms to hug his knees, taking a break from drinking to not hog all of it himself. “Heh, yeah same honestly.” Natasha answered, though didn’t seem to elaborate on what she meant as she stared off into the lake. This piqued Jason’s curiosity and he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. 

“Say, you never really talk about who your family is...” Jason mentioned, noticing Natasha suddenly not wanting to make eye contact, “You’re a noble right?” A pit fell into his stomach when she didn’t respond right away with the warm demeanor she’d had up to this point. He lightly tapped on his cup with a finger. “I apologize if that’s a bad subject for you-” Jason tried to cool it over but Natasha interjected with a sigh. “Nah, nah it’s alright,” she said, finally turning her head in his direction, “My parents are good people, it’s just…” She had to think for a moment to find her words, Natasha fiddled with one of the loose strands on her hair. “My family is a part of the governing Circle in Solaris, has been voted in to help rule for generations.” “So you’re basically a princess?” Jason questioned, he wasn’t quite knowledgeable about Solaris politics and had a basic understanding of the democratic process. 

“Definitely not, ” Natasha responded, “The people are the ones who decide who gets to be in the Circle, I’d have to campaign just like anyone else and most of the time have a choice to run.” “But you don’t?” Jason wondered, bending down a little to be eye level with Natasha. “My parents have raised me to be in the Circle just like the generations before me,” Natasha said with anger boiling in her chest, “Hells, if I even mention the thought about doing something else other than government work they throw a HUGE fit!” She crossed her arms, still not wanting to make eye contact. 

“I hate how we honor freedom for all and yet for some reason I’m selfish for wanting to have freedom of choice!?” Natasha ranted, grabbing the sides of her head, “Now that I’m old enough for professional study, they have been insistent to tie me down to study bureaucracy! It’s just so…” “Not fair?” Jason said. “Yeah.” Natasha confirmed. 

In order to comfort her, Jason attempted to reach a hand down and pat her lightly on the shoulder in solidarity. Though as his palm made contact with her vest, his hand roiled and Jason hissed a bit in pain. Natasha jumped a little and spun around to see Jason cringing at the sight of his raw palms.

“You alright!?” Natasha asked in concern, standing up to get a better look at Jason’s hands. “Owww, that smarts…” Jason grumbled as he rubbed the small burn wounds, “My hands are still in pain from the rope incident.” 

“Let me have a peek at them,” Natasha said as she reached her hands over to gently grasp the tips of Jason’s fingers, pulling them close to her. He could feel her soft hands rub against the rough skin on the injury slightly. It caught Jason’s surprise when instead of closely inspecting the wound, she just closed her eyes and started to whisper a single word that he couldn’t quite catch. His hands jolted from surprise when a pleasant glow formed around his palms. The light managed to obscure the burns, though he could feel the rough pain from the warm wounds dissipate instantly. It felt like a pleasant chill upon his hands and just as fast as it appeared, the light faded away to reveal his hands being completely healed. 

Jason looked at Natasha in awe and before he could speak, she already had an answer ready for him. “Dad used to be a cleric,” Natasha explained, “He taught me a few handy cantrips but, I can’t do anything majorly breathtaking.” “But, you are breathtaking...” Natasha raised her head, wondering if she heard him correctly, though she was met with a sight of an incredibly flustered man who just realized that he said a thought that wasn’t meant to be said out loud. This was also the moment where Jason realized not only did he accidentally flirt with her, but he was holding her hands. 

The scandal.

Suddenly, his hands engulfed hers, and the growth spurt triggered his knees to nudge a teacup, toppling it over and threatening to break its porcelain rim. Jason’s heart was beating wildly, and the enlargement kept startling pace with it. He barely had time to scramble away from her as his surroundings became wildly different from before. His surroundings morphed into an entirely different scale, the once-shady trees now surrounded him, the once-vast lake seemed a mere puddle.

Struggling for breath, he crawled back on his hands, retreating toward the clearing's edge, which now wasn't far from the picnic site that had been so peaceful before. Horrified that his shoe was now large enough to topple it all over and it was right beside Natasha, who at this point was standing up with an unreadable shock on her face. "Jason?!" Natasha exclaimed, extending a comforting arm. "Okay, let's take some deep breaths, big guy—" She moved closer, but before she could reach him, he yelped, scaring the birds from their nests in a cacophony of fear.

"DON'T COME CLOSER!" His shout, though unintended, rang out powerfully, the potency of his voice a byproduct of his size. He regretted it instantly, aware of how dangerous his voice had become at this scale. The sight of Natasha covering her ears only intensified his heartache. Closing his eyes tightly, he felt the grass beneath him meld together, the oak branch he'd backed into pressing heavily atop his head. “Yeesh, no need to take out my hearing.” Natasha's voice pierced through, her intent unclear as she ventured closer despite his plea. He struggled to curl up further as he embiggened, knees pulling toward his chest. “I- I'm sorry.” Jason mumbled relatively quietly. The tightness in his chest didn’t alleviate and his fingers had gone numb as he gripped his hands close to his sides, beseeching his own subconscious to regain control. He hadn't been this height since…

Old spear head wounds burned on his gut and ghostly impressions of chains of his past clutched his throat. He could barely recall anything but the pain and the harsh words pitted against him by the very guards sworn to protect the family. 

His body, as quickly as it began expanding, stopped engulfing the grove they were in, however Jason could tell he wasn’t shrinking back to normal. A frightful thought raced through his mind, his stomach churned at the thought of him being stuck as a gigantic beast daring to feel anything other than dismay. 

His mind, clouded and unable to think of anything other than the pain he’d been enduring his whole life, he could hardly hear Natasha’s voice getting closer to him. Though he managed to understand some of her words as he could feel a tiny tug pull on his sleeve. “Your knuckles are going pale,” Natasha’s voice said to him, “Unclench them and breathe hun, you’re safe.” Jason swallowed, and uncurled his fingers as she requested. As he was comforted by her presence, he couldn’t help the guilt boiling up inside himself for putting her in not only an uncomfortable situation, but a dangerous one at that. He tried to speak up, but he couldn’t find the strength to talk through his hyperventilating. Immediately he was soothed by pats on the edge of his forearm which felt as if a swallow decided to perch on his arm. “Come on, deeeep breaths,” Natasha encouraged as she demonstrated herself while speaking, “Nice and sloowwww.” He struggled to find a moment, but when he did, he took a long deep breath of air and shakily released it. Feeling was beginning to return to his body as he could sense the small blades of grass on the ground and the wetness on his cheeks. Despite him re-gaining his senses, he still refused to let himself have his vision back. Deep down he knew that whatever he was going to see, it would probably make him pass out completely. Jason managed to clear his throat and speak with a pathetic whimper in his tone. 

“I-I am so sorry,” Jason said, “Th-this is very unbecoming of me… Hells, I ruined everything didn’t I?” He choked back tears, and tried his best to hold sobs. He heard a quiet chuckle that was paired with an out of place sniff, “Nobody looks dashing crying,” her voice spoke, “And that doesn’t matter… trust me you’ve done nothing wrong.” Jason could sense her presence lean over his wrist, her gentle touch petting the back of his hand just as if someone was tracing their smallest finger tip across it. “Didn’t realize how bad this could get..” Natasha wearily commented as Jason steadied himself. The giant heaved a sigh while his head hung low. “I told you,” Jason spoke, “This is why I have to be locked away…”

“That’s not what I mean.” Natasha sighed as she momentarily retracted the touch Jason yearned for. Before he could ask what she meant by that, he felt the air swish over his wrist and then a tug at his side of his waist. He’d almost forgotten he was curled up against an oak tree for a moment. He felt pressure wobble on top of his stomach, a sensation he’d yet to feel when he was rarely large like this. His ears then caught Natasha’s small voice in front of him, confirming the presence that was now standing on him was her. “Please open your eyes,” Natasha said, “I need you to look at me.” “B-b-but what if I-” Jason stammered. “It’s going to be okay,” Natasha re-affirmed, “I promise.” He froze. Two trains of thought had collided in his mind. On one hand he was worried if he were to see her beautiful face again he’d destroy the entire forest however, Jason’s trust had been handed over to Natasha many times before and if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have had the courage to step outside the prison he thought he could never leave. It may have been naïve of Jason, but ever since they’ve met that fateful day he felt like he her judgment was solid. Especially how annoying she could be with her earnestness. Jason gently let his breath go, not wanting to blow away his passenger off of his chest, and opened his eye lids gingerly. 

He had to adjust his eyes from the afternoon sun shining, though once he managed to blink a couple of times to clear his vision. The scene was just about the same before he closed his eyes; his body took up nearly half of the shore of the lake and the picnic blanket could have easily been mistaken as a handkerchief. However, when his pupils focused on the figure in front of his face and standing just below his lower ribs, he noticed that an adorably small Natasha was staring right at him. Though was she… crying? 

----

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Natasha thought if maybe, just maybe, the prince would find happiness by stepping outside and figuring out that he didn’t need to be miserable for the rest of his life just because he was cursed. Sure, it would probably be rough the first few trips into the woods but what she failed to account for was the situation of him having a full blown panic attack. Self love evidently wasn’t easy to teach. Especially if she didn’t practice much of it herself. 

Guilt riddled her soul when she saw that mortified face and subsequent tears that followed. How could she have not realized that he was going to rehash horrible feelings from growing to a height that he was forbidden to be at? In hindsight, she shouldn’t have been so selfish and taken this entire going outside thing slowly. Her need to see his charming face up close had forced him to confront his issues far before he was ready to. Did she even have the right to trample on his boundaries like that? These thoughts boiled over as her tears betrayed her when she stood face-to-face with Jason. 

“I’m.. so sorry.”

She choked up, staring into those enormous doe eyes. His eyes were slightly red from the tears that were going down his cheeks. The uncertain twitches of his lower eyelids steadied themselves once his pupils managed to dilate upon seeing her. Jason spoke up in a gentle whisper, which at this size sounded more like it was at a speaking level with a rasp in his tone.

“Oh no no no…” Jason said, “You didn’t do anything that heeds an apology.” Natasha clenched her fists, she felt like the giant prince was just being cordial for her sake. She was hoping to hear him say that she forgives her miss-step. Her head shook. “You don’t have to be so undeservedly kind to me,” Natasha said through tears, “I messed up big time and took away your sense of safety from you… Now you’re suffering.” A lavender smelling huff of wind blew through her hair, a moment of disbelief passed before Jason spoke up again, “I’m not suffering- well, not by your hands anyway.” When Natasha didn’t give a response, the large comforting presence continued speaking. “In fact, you gave me something wonderful Natasha,” Jason said with a weary grin as Natasha looked back up at him in confusion, “You gave me a choice.”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha asked, wondering where the hells Jason was going with this. “I chose to come with you to our picnic,” Jason said, whipping his face a tad with a long sleeve, “I’d never have left by myself, I wouldn’t have had the courage to and would have been miserable.” “But aren’t you miserable now!?” Natasha interjected, “If I gave you anything, it was a heart attack!” The collar of her laced blouse was wet with tears, at this point she covered her face in shame. Embarrassment of sobbing in front of him had begun to dog pile onto her mind as well. Why did she have to be so ignorant and get themselves into this horribly awkward situation? Her own mind kept coming up with more cruel things she felt guilty of before..

Natasha suddenly felt something soft press on the side of her head. 

Her eyes opened and the sight made her gasp, if she was seeing this right; A silky blue handkerchief folded gently on a finger tip that could have been mistaken as a small bedside table at first glance. Natasha looked up and saw his eyes pleading with her. “Uhm, “ Jason whimpered, “Thought you could use this..” Not wanting to decline this adorable man’s offer, she took the favor and dabbed her cheeks with a soft smile. “Thanks…” Natasha exasperated, “Look I’m sorry for-” “Natasha.” 

“...Yeah?” “I had an incredible time with you today, Thank you for everything you’ve been doing for me,” Jason said with genuine heart in his voice, “But please, don’t tear yourself down because of my need to process… uhm. This.” He emphasized by looking down at his chest which was about as wide as a king’s bed. Natasha’s silence gave Jason more of a chance to speak his peace. "It's not your duty to ensure I'm not miserable," Jason explained, a chuckle resonating through Natasha's boots. "Your company is more than enough..." The prince's heartfelt words left Natasha momentarily speechless. Even if she didn't believe she deserved mercy, an inexplicable sense of happiness enveloped her. The sweetness of the prince's heart must have expanded along with his body. She wondered why she felt so gosh darn happy. The noble patted down her tears one more time before reaching and wrapping her arms around the finger that gave her the handkerchief, giving it a tight squeeze. 

SNAP

“Owch!” Natasha pulled away from the sound of Jason’s squeal and was met with a slightly bigger hand and the prince rubbing the of his head. There laid an oak branch upon his shoulder that was broken at the stem. A brief, stunned silence passed between them.

"I, um, apologize for that—" Jason began.

“Oh no, I should be the one sorry here- I forgot about..." Natasha's voice trailed off as she too offered her apology.

A moment of pause hung in the air, their eyes locking. And then, they both chuckled. Natasha patted the tip of the finger that Jason had extended to her, a sense of camaraderie bridging the gap between them. After all, what was there to judge?

[linkemon]

Boysband AU headcanons (4nemo) 1

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

For those unfamiliar with the concept, 4nemo is a group of anemo boys who started a boysband.

AN: it's very hard to keep up with haiku syllables in English but I'm trying my best to modify my orginal poetry.

When you were left without a job, but with a whole bunch of bills to pay, you decided to look for something new. The offer was quite enigmatic but it matched your qualifications. Attracted by the vision of money, you volunteered. You had to sign a non-disclosure agreement before you were hired and that was a bit of a bummer. Everything became clear when you were accepted as the manager of the not so long ago formed band 4nemo...

Xiao

✧ Quiet and mysterious type of man. At first you thought it was the label that made him look like that but you soon realized that it was not true. Xiao is like that in every way. Naturally, he has a lot of female fans who are attracted to his way of being. You can safely say thanks to your re-search that he has the most fans out of all team members. Not that he really cares because he doesn't like attention very much. At fan meetings, he always fidgets impatiently and wants to get away as fast as possible.

✧ In 4nemo he is a rapper. He's doing pretty well, though not great. Apparently, his mentor was a certain Zhongli. He's one of the few people you see him hanging out with that you initially thought were his family. You're pretty sure whatever his mentor was, he didn't teach him how to rap because the man is very calm and elegant.

✧ Xiao likes to sit quietly with you on the stairs sometimes. It's kind of your ritual. If he's not feeling well, he'll somehow catch you on your way out of the studio. You don't ask what exactly is bothering him because he won't tell you anyway. You stay like that together for a while, talking about various, unimportant things. You even fell asleep on his shoulder once but he didn't reproach you for it. He just woke you up brutally.

Kaedehara Kazuha

✧ His specialty is dancing. Fans say he moves like he has the wind on his side. Perhaps because he trained martial arts in his childhood. He has offered you several times to join him as he practices new routine moves. He's managed to teach you a few things.

✧ He sometimes disappears and no one knows where he is. If he decides to hide, no one from the production will find him. You are one of the few people who are somehow able to locate Kazuha at almost any time. He was surprised himself.

✧ Kazuha likes to wander around the city. Preferably, however, surrounded by nature. Every frame he is allowed to record outside is a win. The same goes for photo sessions. There he seems to be in his environment. There was even a stereotype among the fans that if the music video has Kazuha and nature in the background, it must be a hit.

✧ The boy writes a lot of song lyrics. Most end up in a drawer but he showed you some sketches. On the side, he also writes poetry, saying it helps him. He wrote a haiku for you to thank you for your work for the team:

Bright glow of night light

Flowing the eternal wind

Our biggest support

Venti

✧ He's the best at singing. Still, he also has the ability to play multiple instruments and if only the record label would let him, he would definitely use it on every single hit. All he has to do is satisfy the audience's hunger with covers or short videos showing his skills.

✧ He is the biggest prankster of the four. If there's one thing for sure, it's that every joke comes from Venti. Whether verbal or prank. He recently added a tinted shampoo to Kazuha's bottle and now the boy has red tips left on his hair. He left them for the fans, although you had to convince him a lot. The culprit, of course, ran away for the day.

✧ Venti had several scandals. Mainly related to him being in clubs. Some of them were not known to a wider audience but fans still remember his drunken incident when he sang a hit from the latest album (not yet published at the time) and someone recorded it. Somehow he always gets away with the public and that's probably the only reason he hasn't been fired yet. The label knows fans would probably boycott them.

✧ He loves social media. Even if he's given instructions not to involve you as a manager or limit it in the photos, he does it anyway. He vlogs non-stop. Tomorrow he will definitely post a picture of what he eats for dinner so that everyone will know...

Aether

✧ Group leader. Very attached to his sister, which you noticed almost immediately. It was thanks to her that he even came to the preliminaries before 4nemo was founded. Lumine travels a lot but calls her brother very often. Very often you picked up a phone call from her to let her know there was a rehearsal still going on so she can't talk with her brother now. The boy often misses her and home but he tries to put on a brave face. You comforted him several times because he couldn't handle it.

✧ Modest is the word that defines him. Aether does not take credit for most meritorious achievements. This can be seen, among other things, in his speeches. He also mentioned you there, saying that no one sees your work behind the scenes. You were extremely touched. You have to constantly remind him how important he is because he will always forget about himself.

✧ He supports the whole group. Guys seem to orbit around him and you quickly noticed how he binds them together. He's the one in charge who will make a normal breakfast instead of stuffing himself with anything like Venti, nothing like Xiao or anything quick like Kazuha.

✧ Aether likes to ask what you think about their performances. He is very open to criticism and will definitely try to improve what you tell him at the next show.

[hhighkey]

Decode // Chapter Five, Close Quarters

Dracule Mihawk (opla) x OC (female)

Rating: mature

Story Contains: live action characters, related and non-related one piece plots, unspecified religion, OC is a nun on sabbatical, trauma, violence, age gap (40 v 23), insecurities and self doubts, possessive / protective behavior, kidnapping, true loves, eventual smut

Note: i got noooo idea if demons exist in one piece and didn’t appear so off some searches so gonna chalk it up to powers from a devil fruit. also think I really like this chapter??

Masterlist

-

Ocean waves lulled onto the beach as the sun reached its peak, whilst two ships tied and anchored at a makeshift dock. Lounging near the entrance of the sea cave was a company of pirates, ones that belonged to the Red Force. On proud display was that of Luffy’s wanted poster, with alcohol passed around. 

Mihawk eyed his red-haired ‘friend’ warily, finding himself without the want to finish off whatever ale was tossed to him. 

The joy- pride- whatever it was he didn’t quite care, was evident on the crew. Though he’d imagined if the Luffy he met was anything like that as a child, sure the boy would have made a lasting impression. But his mind was elsewhere.

It was coming up to a month since he’d first lay eyes on the woman his heart now belonged to. Perhaps distance truly did make the heart fonder in this case. His memory raced to remind himself of every inch he’d taken in, from her delicate fingers, to supple skin and breathtaking beauty. He wanted to own every part of her, to know every intimate detail of her past, and to understand the inner workings of her mind. Anything to do with her up to the air she breathed he wanted part in. 

It was a sickening line of thought, truly it twisted and burned his chest inside that he’d thought he’d implode at times. But Sabine pulled him into her orbit, dug her innocent little claws in, and he’d be a fool to resist. 

His mind constantly drifted to her from time sailing on the sea, amidst a job, and even before he fell asleep. He wondered what she was up to and where, if she were safe, if she thought about him. He let himself obsessively obsess over someone he met twice, truly knew nothing about and now had to wait for them to make a life changing decision in months time. Setting himself up for failure surely, but high risk brings high reward, he understood that well enough. 

"You usually got your panties in a bunch Hawkeyes- but this is extra.” Shanks stared at Mihawk knowingly as he knocked back his drink. 

"What are you talking about?” Mihawk quipped back, tone biting with a hint of exasperation. 

"Haven't touched your drink."

Mihawk glanced down at the open bottle, liquid slowly warming in his grasp from nursing it, "Please elaborate on your nonsensical ramblings."

Shanks grinned as he took a swig of mead, "I know that face. Only one thing causes men of our stature to look so grim."

"Don't compare us-"

"A girl."

"Fucks sake." Mihawk decided he was done, he’d take no further questions from the red haired imbecile of a pirate. He sat his drink down in the sand uncaring as it tipped, spilling out the amber liquid. He only got a few feet away. 

 "Where's your ring?" Shanks smirked, only having to ask one simple question and Mihawk would know he was beat, knowing how to prod all the right areas to tick Mihawk off.

Mihawk stopped and turned with a fire in his eyes, “Don’t pry in places you have no business.”

“Oh come on,” He laughed drunkenly, “You don’t just give that out!”

It did not matter- the intricacies of what the ring symbolized to Mihawk. Or it shouldn’t have mattered to Shanks who found far too much enjoyment out of his discomfort.

“Don’t use that night, what- a decade ago when I drunkenly told you about what it meant- against me.”

“Yeah yeah.” Shanks waved a hand dismissively, his smirk growing larger by the second. A few of his crew were beginning to listen in, “Come on, a man as distrusting as you wouldn’t give something so precious to a stranger! Or maybe… you did?” 

“Like you know anything about it.” 

Not needing to push anymore, the red haired man shrugged, “Tell me about her.”

“No.”

“I’ll never bother you again!” 

“Liar.”

“Just one thing then you can go. She a pirate? Marine? A sweet girl you saved from an evil pirate?”

Mihawk sighed, ran a handle along the fabric of his jacket then stared right into the depths of Shanks’s soul. 

“She’s a nun.”

The beach went utterly silent. It sounded like even the entirety of the ocean and its inhabitants, and even the air went silent too. Then a booming chorus of loud shouts and laughter drowned the silence out. 

“She’s traveling with Luffy.”

At the mention of Luffy the crew died down again, ears strained to listen.

“What’s he doing with a nun?” Yasopp called over. 

Mihawk would indulge him one more time and wanted to set a record straight before Shanks could say anything about him being a cradle robber, “She’s much older than him by the way, but she’s on sabbatical and he wants to show her the damned world before she goes back. With that strange boy she’s sure to get a show.”

Shanks laughed, “Sounds about Luffy. Pfft well, guess ole’ Mihawk here is gonna have to become a priest! Or celibate the rest of his life, good luck man, you’ll be in my prayers.” And he raised his beer up emphasizing the last word, toasting to Mihawk's ‘doom.’

It was the sudden noise of the little transponder snail he kept safely tucked away that finally gave Mihawk a reason to leave.

Annoyance riddled every bone in his body until the Marine on the other end said a nun wanted to talk to him. It felt like he’d been doused in cold water, fear striking through him at what that could mean. But when he heard her voice, it calmed something inside him. Without a doubt in his mind he’d head to Angelica Island to see her, to aid her in whatever venture she needed him for. It didn’t matter. It could be as simple as needing him to reach an item off a high shelf. Because getting to lay eyes, possibly a hand on her after a month would make it worth it. The two days to get there though would test his patience. 

-

Sabine stilled, suddenly deathly aware of the new presence in her room as she opened the door wishing she hadn’t gone out from the way sweat dripped down her nape. Dread pooled in her stomach like molten lava, her pulse hiked the second she stepped onto the premises. Hairs on the back of her neck stood straight, her instincts screaming at her to turn around. But as her gaze caught the figure lounging beside the window with its sheer curtains blowing about in the wind- a surreal calmness washed over her. Her knees buckled but she caught herself on the door frame as her cheeks burned red.

“Mihawk.”

There he sat in all his glory. He wore a simple cream shirt half unbuttoned, his coat and hat lay haphazardly on the bed. And the giant sword leaned resting against a far wall. The sight of him made her stomach churn, made her chest flitter so painfully she desperately wanted to be closer to him. 

“Sabine, dear.”

“You came.” She regained her senses as she shut the door behind her, her back pressed against the wood as she watched him. Watched him in awe as he sat across the room. Awed at the fact he hadn’t lied about his intentions to help her.

“Of course. You called.” 

He said those words so casually, but it makes her burn inside. Like it was the most obvious thing on the planet to him, while she’d been stressing. Sabine called, so of course Mihawk came to her as if she were his light in the depths of the darkest ocean calling to him.

Her head spun from the noxious fumes of the jasmine candle she’d left lit since the morning as she slowly inched forward. And how it swirled with the scents coming in from the window- every sense of hers blazing in sharp awareness. Everything zoomed in on Mihawk who straightened in the loveseat, his pupils dilating as he watched her movements and every breath like it’d be the last.

Sabine took a shuddering breath in as she stood an arms length away from him now, her heart lurching as he stood. Towering over her, enormous and all powerful. Consuming her as she rocked on her feet in a trance as it took every ounce of her not to reach out and touch him. The intrusive need to graze her fingers up the front of his shirt, feel the chiseled muscle that lies underneath and his radiating warmth. 

Biting her lip, she looked away wishing she could hurl into a ball and hide.

“Hi.” She squeaked out, “I didn’t know you were here. See, I’d gone for a walk, was too anxious waiting around cooped up in here.”

“I would have been earlier, but I ran into some difficulties.”

“Oh! Is everything okay?” 

“Yes.”

Unsure what to say she simply nodded, his level tone told her not to push further. Her room felt like a flurry of nerves consumed it raking along her skin, soft whispers scraping at the back of mind as she tried to calm herself. Nervous about how to behave around him. Nervous on what to even say. Nervous about if she looked presentable! All her practiced words she’d recited over and over since the sun went up, were flown right out the open window beside her. Mind filled with mush. 

A soft chuckle emanated past his lips as he delicately touched the side of her arm, careful to not scare her, to test the waters. 

“Little dove, why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Start from the beginning.” 

She nodded appreciating the directness as it gave her something to do, “Y-Yeah, one second.”

A thick notebook laid at her bedside, one she’d scribbled in all night trying to clearly navigate her thoughts. The story was long, possibly confusing, and frankly she didn’t know where to begin when she finally sat down to write. To write the thoughts she kept locked away inside felt like a personal betrayal of some sorts, that telling paper before an actual person was wrong. 

“I wasn’t sure how much you needed to know, it was almost therapeutic writing it all down, I don’t know if I’ve told anyone it all before.” She leafed through the pages, embarrassment leaking through. Intimate thoughts, intimate details written that she’d let him see because at this point she was desperate. Or she wanted him to. That if he was claiming to want her, then he needed to know her before following through.

Remembering his words of sweet possession, revering attention made her stomach lurch and flutter. A beast roaring inside her she’d never felt until Mihawk. How it blazed and consumed her thoughts with him, with daydreams and a childish obsession a girl holds when she’s young. Because she didn’t know him!

Shaking her head to force herself out of a heedless spiral, she went and handed him the notebook. 

“I’d rather not have to speak any of it.” 

Sabine sat on the edge of the bed, watching him. She chewed on her bottom lip, feeling sick and unable to tear her eyes off him as he began reading. The only reason she told Luffy and the crew a few days ago about the gist of her past, was the heat of the moment. Sabine would have needed a whole bottle of wine to even consider talking about the whole story. 

To a pirate of his status, power, it probably meant nothing, Mihawk may think she was weak or overdramatic. But this was her life, she knew nothing else than her confined and confusing existence. 

Mihawk’s golden eyes read every word she’d written, even the ones she crossed out, with an acute concentration. 

‘I was 15 when father made me leave home. I don’t know if it was bad luck, but I believe it was him who brought the pirate to our doorstep. I believe he paid him to take me to the Monastery, then to kill mother. I still remember how the pirate laughed, calling father weak for not taking mother’s place but I think it was all part of his plot. What pirate takes a girl and drops her off at a Monastery? Few months before, father had become a fanatic over religion, believing we’d all been living in sin and needed to be a better family. I think he went crazy. Who knows- I surely don’t, but I wish mother took his place and I was never sent away.

Out of the 8 years I spent at the Monastery, which I could write a whole novel on the things that took place but wouldn’t know where to begin, I only left the isle once. Last year I came to Angelica Island, this one, with a Bishop because the matriarchs believed I needed a break. I found myself in a precarious position three years ago, a deacon had pried his way into my life in an inappropriate manner (I will not further explain as he’d inconsequential now). I’d always forced myself to believe I was doing a service through my work of prayer and confession, all the strict schedules and confining education- all for this wretched island to flush it all away. I genuinely believed there was a demon here causing people to take their lives violently, drawing them to insanity, that it needed to be sent back to hell. I believed it, I mean I saw the lady with the black eyes, I saw all the dark swirls, saw the blood she left, and felt her claw like nails on me. How was it not real? Even the marines had no leads. But the man she supposedly possessed who was showing strange behavior, I had to be the one to finish the exorcism as it killed the Bishop. All the terror stopped. I thought it was done!

I went back to the Monastery and for months I woke in fits of screams and horrible nightmares. I’d feel her choking grasp, couldn’t be in the dark, I was jumpy, changed. I always thought I was a fairly level headed person, liking to follow directions even if I hated it. Thought I could be a role model, a good nun, but over the last 8 years I could never take my permanent vows while most have over the years. So now I find myself here once again after feeling the most free and light since the start of my sabbatical. I don’t want to be here but clearly it drew me back for a reason, out of all the possibilities of islands to stop, why this one? I couldn’t leave with the crew when they planned to after a few days, I had to stay. I went to the archive in the religious sector of the town, met with the cardinal I trust who had helped last year. After meeting Luffy and finding out about devil fruits, these wild magical powers, I felt something gnaw at me. In long forgotten books are articles, journal entries, timelines of correlation in demonic activity and someone who’s eaten a devil fruit. I mean- I couldn’t imagine the matriarch seeing Luffy stretch out and not think he was possessed! And someone who could have those powers to possess or use ghosts, turn into that thing- wouldn’t that be more plausible? 

I’m ranting, I know, but it’s making me doubt even more. I feel guilty. I don’t think there’d ever been a demon. Just powers and violent happenings from someone with abilities that we don’t understand. The church is good at fear mongering I’ve noticed and all it takes is someone who has a strong opinion and is loud, people do crazy things out of fear. I think there is an actual person behind all this- Mihawk if you are reading, that is why I called you.’

Mihawk closed the notebook, humming to himself before he looked at Sabine. His eyes provided her with an unspoken understanding or support, she at least liked to think so. While normally able to tell when judgment existed within someone from the different sorts of people she had to spend time with due to the state of her occupation- with Mihawk that was different. She cared what he thought of her, far too much than she wanted to admit for only having been around him twice. Now three times. 

“I see. I think there is a plausible possibility of your hunch being correct. Much about devil fruits we don’t understand, or the type of powers they can give or even how they are activated. But you are not talking to a man of faith, I would rather believe in a realistic answer.”

“I’m glad you don’t think this is all foolish.” She straightened, heart thumping.

“I will look into it myself, from a less religious aspect however. A person behind this would be more logical, but I want to see reports from last year and logs from your time.” 

“That makes sense, we could get that information from Cardinal Joseph tomorrow, he’s very good in secretarial duties.”

“Have you asked the marines if there are suspicious reports of deaths lately? Or sightings?”

“No…” 

“The cardinal you mentioned, has he noticed anything strange within the community?”

“Yes and no.” Sabine flushed, ears red in embarrassment as she shifted, “We’ve been meeting, pouring through books but most aren’t helpful. I have notes further in my notebook. While nothing has happened like a year ago, he says he has felt unnerved. Said he’d been considering writing to me to see if I was doing okay, or felt the same, that maybe we were wrong.” 

He was thinking and she was waiting for him to plunge the knife in that she was ridiculous, and a fool to call him for this. It did not come. 

“You said you’ve felt light on your sabbatical, freer since you’d joined the church, whether you only meant to imply it innocently. I want you to feel that way once again.”

“So you’ll help?” She asks more excitedly than intended. Her body language changed and he enjoyed watching how her pupils expanded, shoulders relaxed, and a smile pulled at her lips.

“Yes.” Only for her. 

A weight released off her, one she hadn’t realized was there until that moment. The look she gave him was genuine, filled with thanks as she took a breath able to suck in air more than the airy gasps she’d been surviving off. 

It was late afternoon, almost evening but Sabine could have slept until morning. A small crash in adrenaline, she fell back onto the bed, her legs hanging off where her knees hinged. 

“Such a relief you’re here.” She rubbed her eyes as she stared at the ceiling.

The floorboards creaked under his heavy steps, she couldn’t see them but his eyes dominated along her form. He stopped at the sight of a necklace chain that hadn’t been there before. It sat below her garments. 

“Sit up,” His smooth voice tickled the back of her mind and she immediately obeyed. She pushed herself up on her forearms and gazed up at him with half lidded eyes. 

Closer. His legs just brushed against her knees. She held her breath, the sound of pumping blood decimated within her head as all other noise went silent. 

Mihawk had to lean down to reach her neck, where he looped a finger under the chain to pull it out from under her garbs. 

“I see you’ve been wearing my ring.”

“Yes.” She blushed furiously, her tongue darting across her lower lip, “It doesn’t fit any of my fingers though.”

“I do not doubt that.” It pleased him greatly to see her not only with it, treasuring it, but wearing it. It stroked the possessive tendencies that suddenly surged through him, the sudden emotions it wracked through his nerves and climbed under his skin, “How often does it get to grace this chain around your neck?”

Sabine stilled, breath caught before she admitted under her breath, “Everyday.”

His lips quirked and an impulsive thought popped into his mind. He quickly said, “I should go,” as he dropped the ring so it fell back to her chest, needing to move. He barely got a few strides away. 

“No- Stay in here. Or maybe they could move us to a room with double beds? I can’t be here alone at night anymore, I wake up crying like there’s a presence over me.” Sabine’s bottom lip jutted out, a plea falling from her lips as panic surged through her, “If you’re here I’ll feel safer. I only ask for genuine reasons, nothing nefarious I swear.”

“I know, don’t fret.” He reassured, but mainly reassuring himself that staying in the same room as her was a good idea. 

No matter how patient and strict of a man he was in training or in battle- in life, she suddenly changed that. Sabine was honest, that was clear of her character even when he first met her at Baratie. Mother-like in a sense, clearly conscious of others and her surroundings. Precious. Easy to break- something he’d never allow to happen. 

“Alright. I’ll go ask for a cot, how about that?” That pleased her greatly that she didn’t come off like a desperate woman doing this to bed him. Though she couldn’t blame anyone for trying, even her own thoughts betrayed her as she’d graze along his pale skin and corded muscle, a chest and abdomen so thick and defined it didn’t matter it was covered by a shirt. And without his long coat on she could see his powerful thighs straining against the material, making her wonder just how much of his life was dedicated to the art of his sword. 

“You will take the bed, I will take the cot.” Mihawk added sternly, though she saw through that as nothing more than banter. She smiled, nodding before skipping out the room. He was moments away from telling her not to leave his sight, but he shut his mouth and let her run her little errand. 

As nightfall fell over the city on Angelica Island, Sabine methodically locked every window making sure to stuff spare linens so no draft could sneak its way in. A habit she’d had for years. A distrust for people perhaps, or surroundings, or that she’d spent years shivering in her bed as a girl. And the Monastery was nothing if not a wretched old place with a frigid draft that had Sabine always on the lookout for extra blankets. 

Mihawk watched her with fond curiosity, teasing words dancing on his tongue that he wouldn’t yet speak. Her movements were frantic, though it was clear she didn’t see the behavior as worrisome. She kept checking the locks and he itched to tell her to sit, to relax. But this moment gave him the perfect chance to learn more about her, to study her and put it to memory. 

“You’re not cold are you?” She asked him, huffing from the amount of times she’d paced the room. 

“I’m not.” He thought carefully, “It’s late, you should rest.”

She nodded, “Mhmm, yeah. I haven’t been sleeping much lately.”

“I can tell.”

“You see, besides my weeklong job here last year, I hadn’t slept in a room by myself in years. I’ve always had roommates at the Monastery and on the ship I room with Nami. With others in the room I have to force my brain to sleep so as to not bug the other person. Alone, it’s unsettling, I don’t like it.” She said quickly, tripping over her words as she tried to explain. 

Mihawk stood from the lounge chair, “You- sit on the bed. You’re making me anxious watching you flit around.”

Sabine shivered under his commanding gaze as he sat on her bed, patting the spot beside him. She pushed her messy hair back behind her ears and as she sat she smoothed down her nightgown, suddenly very aware how thin the material was. Suddenly filled with shame to be wearing such a thing around him as an unmarried woman, self consciousness making her stomach twist tight. 

His large fingers comb thoughtfully through her hair, carefully feeling the way each strange felt between his fingers. The softness of her brown locks, a faint smell of soapy lilac wafting from it. 

Dutifully he began to part her long hair into three sections, basking in the way her skin would erupt in goosebumps as he ghosted along it as he worked. 

Taken aback she quickly asked, “You can braid hair?” 

“It’s not difficult. And now you won’t have a bird's nest come morning.” 

“Should I be offended by that?” She teased, loving the way his fingers felt as they stroked along her nape and braided the strands. 

“No. Now tell me why you obsessively check locks, shove cloth into cracks, then check again and again.” 

“Why?” Heart amiss as it pounded in her chest, she felt dumb asking why but her mind was slowly turning to much as his fingers worked. She’d never thought a man would braid her hair, nonetheless a warlord of the sea. 

“I want to know everything about you. What makes you tick. Anything or anyone who’s caused you damage whether emotional or physical. What colors do you prefer? Do you prefer sweet or salty food?”

“Will you tell me all the things there is to know about you too?”

“Yes. Anything I ask I would be willing to answer in return. Do you have a hair tie?”

“Nightstand. And you don’t seem very open... In general.”

“I am not.” He leaned to grasp the black band, carefully looping it around the end of the braid leaving about two inches.

“Why did you become a pirate?” She shifted upon his completion, instinctively feeling her head and hair. Facing him now she was as pink as the evening sky while he was an impenetrable wall as he watched her. 

“What do you consider a pirate to be? In your own words.”

“I dunno, someone who travels by ship that is against the world government, steals and murders I guess? A pirate seems to be someone who wants the One Piece at this point, Gold Roger really changed everything.”

Mihawk hummed, thinking over her words, “I don’t particularly care for the antics of it all, I especially do not care to terrorize islands of people to rule over like some. I care about my pride of being the world’s greatest swordsman, besting foes as I please, and one day hopefully meet the one who will surpass me. My occupation as a warlord helps keep the marines out of my way, they’re a nuisance at best.”

“You’re a lone wolf.” She tried to tease again but a sudden yawn came over her as sleep began to drag her down. 

“I don’t talk about my past or my reasoning for most decisions with anyone, but I wanted to return the favor as you allowed me to read your notebook.”

“I hope it wasn’t too intimate?”

“No, it allowed me insight into you, I hope I’ve done the same. Now have you finished your nighttime routine or is there more to do?”

“Yes, it’s done.” Her chest swelled even as her eyelids grew heavy. 

“Then lay down, I will stay up until you fall asleep.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me questions?” Sabine inquired as he helped her get underneath the covers. A tingling sense of safety washed over her from how delicately he treated her. Like a precious treasure the way he tucked her in, hand smoothing the wrinkles of the blanket over her form. 

“Not tonight. Sleep, tomorrow we’ll speak with the marines.”

“Alright, fun.”

Her words soon slurred together as she attempted to chat his ear off about unintelligible nonsense he simply hummed responses to. She was nervous, he could practically feel the way her pulse hitched as he got close, or how her pupils would dilate. The extra time between responses as she was overthinking her own words. 

He glanced around, only the dim light of the lamp beside him illuminating the room, she’d insisted he leave it on. There were no words to describe Sabine’s beauty in his eyes. In the month since he’d seen her he’d recount her face in his memory, but being able to see each detail, was like seeing her for the first time again. And she was still stealing his heart like she had the moment he eyed her from across the bar. 

Mihawk settled onto the cot that night, careful to be silent so as not to wake Sabine. He’d be damned if he were to ruin her first night of peaceful sleep now that she felt safe. Safe. She wanted his presence. She could have called back Luffy and co, but wanted him. The fact of it quenched the fire within him that wanted to claim her as his own, knowing that while he was still very much a stranger, he gave her solitude. 

-

posted: july 18 2024

taglist : @zzbloody-animezz @honeybeezgobzzzzz @mythical-goth @iraaiitz @moonmaiden1996 let me know if you wanna be added !

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hey, I can see you're busy, but I know you like to see our OCs and I finally have two of them finished, at least their profiles. I don't have any sketches of the sort yet. Anyway, I'll send them seperately bc, as I said before, they are pretty damn long and I was not sure in the slightest what to cut out. I had a lot of revamping to do since I started these years ago and now that season 1 is out and done, changes needed to be made XD. Anyway, here's the first one and I'll send the second one shortly. Changes may be made in the future, but this is in fact the bare bones of the character and I'm quite proud of it :D.

Name: Jeanette “Jean” Sawyer

Gender: Female Born in: 1956 Died in: 1973 (age 17)

Cause of Death: Suicide/Hypothermia Height: 5’2 (alive), 5’10 (current)

Appearance:  pale blue skin; black hair with white frosted tips on the end; eyes with icy blue sclera and a white iris; body type on the slender side, inverted triangle body type; forearms are larger than normal with white scars going down the length; often seen wearing warm clothes and arm warmers Species: Sinner Nickname/s: Jean, Jeannie, Shrimp, Kid, Kiddo, Shortstack, Toots Likes: cooking, skating, milkshakes with french fries, mini golf, listening to music, watching movies, carnivals, singing, dancing, trying new things, board games, cats, people watching, anything soft and warm, stargazing, camping Dislikes: the Vees (Vox and Valentino in particular), the cold, the dark, her arms, pineapples, most electronics, being the center of attention Sexuality: Lesbian Sins: Suicide Job: Hazbin Hotel Patron Background: It is difficult to get a grasp on what kind of person Jean is at first glance considering how much distance she puts between herself and others. In life and in death, stability was a luxury that Jean never truly had, making it difficult to open up to others, let alone fully trust another person. The only trustworthy constant in her life was her hardworking mother, whom she always looked to as a role model, confidant, and caretaker. 

Life was rather difficult, but both felt that having each other was all they needed. One day, Jean’s mother died, leaving her with nobody to care for her. For two years after, Jean was passed around in foster homes where she was beaten, scolded, and (the final nail in the coffin) had a foster parent attempt to sexually assault her. In a flash of panic, she killed her would-be rapist and she couldn’t help but fall into despair, deciding to take her own life after fleeing the current foster home in the middle of a blizzard. 

Upon entering hell, Jean was more confused and helpless than ever. Once her first extermination came around, her mother found her and brought her to safety where they would essentially live life from where they left off. Jean rarely went out on her own with the fear of the sinners often leaving her frightened for herself and her mother who often left to provide for them both. At a sudden point, her mother seemed to vanish for a few days before returning to her. Things seemed to change after that. It seemed her mother was bringing in more money than ever before, leaving them much better off; however, many things felt off as well. For one thing, her mother seemed to be more on edge. She also wouldn’t allow any electronics other than what she tinkered with and any time Jean ever went out, she never went alone. Then one day, her mother never came home and couldn’t be contacted. Concerned for her mother’s wellbeing, she searched for any leads and she found one in her work-related files:  a business card belonging to VoxTek. 

Upon entering Vee Tower to inquire about her mother’s whereabouts, she was swiftly intercepted by Vox himself. He told her she was indeed in the building devoting herself to a new project he put her on and offered her a tour as the daughter of one of his ‘top employees.’ She hesitantly accepted, wanting to heed the warning her mother gave of interacting with strangers yet drawn into the shiny new world she had just entered. Jean had never seen technology so advanced before and began to wonder why her mother never showed any of it if she indeed worked there. The answer became all too clear once two people inserted themselves into the situation:  her mother, who found out she was there and rushed to protect her, and Valentino, who spotted the young sinner with no master and was drawn in immediately.

One thing led to another and, upon Valentino harming Jean, her mother incapacitated both of the overlords in order for Jean to escape. Unfortunately, her mother was not so lucky.  For ten years going forward, Jean lived in hiding and fought to survive on the meager resources her mother stashed away and what little she could receive from her via care packages. Jean often read the hand-written notes her mother included with them in order to feel close considering the danger of meeting with each other in person. Even from a distance, her mother always relayed the same message, which was also the last words she ever heard from her mother:  ‘Keep your soul. Don’t trust these dealmakers.’ 

After some time, Jean accidentally trespassed onto the turf of a mysterious entity (at least as far as the other residents of Hell save for a few were concerned). She was quick to find out the entity’s true identity:  a powerful sinner named Sibelle, a girl around her age that perished centuries ago for witchcraft. She allowed Jean to stay in her territory and over time, the two grew extremely close even to the point of Sibelle wanting to make a deal. Jean was quick to try and decline until she heard the terms of the deal:  Sibelle was offering her soul and in exchange, Jean was free to summon her and use her power so long as it wasn’t for selfish reasons. In the former’s eyes, the latter would be able to call on her should she need help while she was outside the territory. As Sibelle would explain, her power is prone to force her into violent rampages and she had been in search of someone she had full trust in to form a soul contract with in order to keep her in control. After a while of asking, Jean had been worn down and accepted the deal. Not long after, Jean had decided to move on despite Sibelle’s protests and pleads to stay for her safety. However, she was sure that she couldn’t stay forever as she was now determined to find a way to free her mother from her contract with Vox.

One day, Jean encountered Charlie and Vaggie as they were recruiting patrons for the hotel. Charlie was more than eager to drag her along and talk Jean’s ear off about her idea and, with the short amount of time they had known each other, that she’s positive that she had an excellent chance at redemption. Mainly because of curiosity, hope and really having little else to do, Jean accepted and moved into the hotel to see she was one of two patrons. Once Alastor and his crew enter the picture, she does feel her walls coming down and finally confides in Angel Dust about her past, feeling he would understand considering their connection with Valentino. In Angel’s words, if Valentino ever found out she was there, it wouldn’t be from him.

Outside of redemption exercises, Jean can be seen throughout the hotel interaction with the other residents doing a number of things such as:  playing cards with Husk, babysitting Fat Nuggets, and being Alastor’s unwilling little helper. She would grow especially close with Angel Dust and Husk, growing to see them as an older brother and father figure respectively. Personality: As previously stated, Jean faces some serious trust issues due to lack of stability in her life and (the very obvious) trauma inflicted on her by those she was told she could trust. It would take a great deal of work and time to break her walls down, which is honestly what she is hoping to find (basically, too afraid to initiate steps to build trust and needs others to take the first step…s). She’s quiet, almost to the point she sneaks up on people and spooking them with no intention to do so. Many initially found it creepy save for Alastor, who found the startled reactions to be quite amusing. 

Despite this, the persona Jean puts on in front of others is one she copies from her mother:  a no-nonsense spitfire that refuses to submit to anyone. Of course, it is merely a front she copies as she’s seen her mother use in order to deal with the more threatening individuals. Dying at the age she did, Jean did find it easy to be rebellious though it clearly proved to be her downfall many times. Although her age makes her more prone to naivety and recklessness, it does allow Jean to remain open to new ideas (hence willing to try redemption) and not become set in her ways like a lot of adults tend to do with age. Unfortunately, this also means that Jean’s younger mind isn’t able to handle emotions and stress as well as an adult would, making her prone to emotional outbursts and meltdowns. 

Habits & Quirks: 

Jean wears arm warmers constantly even if she is wearing long sleeves

Is a quiet person to the point where she ends up sneaking up on people

Is always cold, most likely due to dying partially to hypothermia; strangely the intensity of how cold she feels depends on her mood

Has a terrible sense of direction. One of the very few reasons she owns a smartphone is for the GPS. It’s also why she studied astronomy when she was alive in order to read the stars for direction.

Trivia:

Jean has a baby face, making her look younger than she actually is. It’s especially amusing when Charlie practically exclaims “not in front of the baby!” or “she’s just a baby!”  while covering Jean’s eyes and/or ears. It can be quite embarrassing yet she can’t help but feel slightly flattered. But mostly frustrated and embarrassed.

Jean gives nicknames to all her friends and family, using them in her journal and as their contact name in her phone. She rarely addresses them with these names in real life, but likes to do so on occasion

Charlie:  Princess Bedhead 👑🥱

Vaggie:  The Warden ⚔️

Husk: ♣️King of Clubs♣️ (AKA ♥️Dad♥️)

Jean is seen to be very sentimental. Considering how little she had in life, it made sense to her to place value in the very few things she did possess. Her most prized possession is a photograph she managed to hold onto as she died of her and her mother at their local state fair. 

Since the confrontation with Vox, Jean had developed an aversion to most electronics, even the ones not developed by VoxTek. She still gets anxiety any time she has to pass by any screen.

STOP WHY CAN I PICTURE HER AND FAT NUGGETS CUDDLING I CAN'T-

[kushitworld]

Tresses And Traffic: SEO Benefits For Your Hair Salon Business

In the competitive world of the beauty industry, a strong online presence is essential for attracting and retaining clients. If you own a hair salon, you’re likely aware of the importance of offering excellent services and creating a welcoming atmosphere, but to reach a wider audience and boost your salon’s success, it’s crucial to invest in Search Engine Optimization (SEO). This article will explore the significance of SEO for your hair salon business and provide you with valuable insights on how to leverage its benefits to increase web traffic and grow your clientele.

The Power of SEO for Hair Salons

SEO, or Search Engine Optimization, is the practice of optimizing your website and online presence to rank higher in search engine results pages, such as Google, Bing, and Yahoo. A well-executed SEO strategy can benefit your hair salon in numerous ways:

Increased Visibility: Higher search engine rankings lead to increased online visibility. When potential clients search for hair salons or related services, having your salon listed on the first page of search results dramatically improves the chances of being found.

Targeted Traffic: SEO enables you to target specific keywords and phrases relevant to your business. This means that the users who discover your website are more likely to be interested in your services, which increases the conversion rate.

Credibility and Trust: Websites that appear at the top of search results are often perceived as more trustworthy and reputable. By optimizing your website, you can build trust with potential clients.

Cost-Effective Marketing: SEO can be a cost-effective marketing strategy in the long run. While it may require an initial investment, the results can be long-lasting, and you won’t have to pay for clicks or impressions like with paid advertising.

Local SEO: For hair salons, local SEO is especially critical. It can help you target clients in your area and boost your chances of being chosen for hair services in your locality.

Now, let’s delve into practical tips on how to harness the SEO benefits for your hair salon business:

1. Keyword Research

Start your SEO journey by conducting thorough keyword research. Identify the keywords and phrases potential clients use to search for hair salon services. Tools like Google Keyword Planner can help you discover high-traffic and relevant keywords. Once you have your list, naturally incorporate these keywords into your website content, including your service pages and blog posts.

2. Optimize Your Website

Your website is the digital face of your hair salon and needs to be SEO-friendly. Ensure your website is mobile-responsive, loads quickly, and has an intuitive design. Structure your website logically with clear navigation to make it easy for visitors to find the information they need.

3. Content Creation

High-quality, informative content is vital for SEO success. Regularly publish blog posts that offer valuable information related to hair care, styling, and trends. Content can include styling tips, hair care routines, product recommendations, and more. Engaging content not only attracts visitors but also keeps them on your website longer, which positively impacts your search rankings.

4. Local SEO

Given the local nature of your hair salon business, local SEO should be a top priority. Ensure your website is listed in local directories, and create a Google My Business profile. This will help your salon appear in local map results, which are often displayed prominently in search results for location-specific queries.

5. Backlinks and Online Reviews

Build a network of high-quality backlinks to your website by partnering with other local businesses or seeking guest posting opportunities. Encourage satisfied clients to leave online reviews on platforms like Google, Yelp, and Facebook. Positive reviews can improve your online reputation and positively affect your SEO.

6. Monitor and Analyze

Regularly monitor your website’s performance using tools like Google Analytics. Analyze your website traffic, user behavior, and conversion rates. This data can help you refine your SEO strategy and make informed decisions on how to improve your online presence.

In conclusion, harnessing the SEO benefits for your hair salon business can significantly impact your success in the digital age. By focusing on keyword research, website optimization, content creation, local SEO, backlinks, and regular analysis, you can attract more clients and solidify your salon’s reputation as a trusted name in the industry. SEO is a long-term investment that, when executed correctly, can bring sustained growth to your hair salon and establish your brand as a top choice for beauty and hair care services.

Source:

[laylaackles]

50SOJ (Jensen Smut)

Part 2/2 of "50 shades of Jensen"

Warnings: bondage, blindfold, sex toys, oral(m), edging, ma'am kink, sir kink, smut

Once again, Jensen finds himself tied up and blindfolded in the middle of your shared bed. He heard you open the dresser drawer. He really wished he could see what you were grabbing.

"Don't cum until I say." You instructed.

Your voice was by the bed now. Jensen felt you kneel on the bed close to his legs. He wondered what you would do first.

He didn't have to wonder very long, though. He felt your hand gently wrap around his cock. He was only semi hard, but it wouldn't take him long to be fully erect.

You slid something onto his cock. It was round and rubbery. And with the push of a button, it vibrated. Jensen realized you had grabbed the cock ring. When it started vibrating, his cock practically jumped. The vibration spread throughout his body.

You knew you couldn't keep the ring on him very long. He'd cum soon if you did. Sooner than you wanted. You let the vibration continue until Jensen's cock was throbbing and you knew he was close.

Jensen's face showed his disappointment when the toy was abruptly removed from his body. You waited a few moments before touching him again. You wanted his orgasm to fade away so you could work him up again.

Jensen felt your delicate fingers wrap around his cock, stroking it softly. It was a teasing stroke. He could barely feel your hand. He wished he could reach down and squeeze your hand.

"Please." He begged.

"Please, what?" You asked.

"Please ma'am. Touch me. Touch me harder." He begged.

Your grasp tightened, but your strokes stayed slow. Ever so slowly, you let your thumb slip over his tip, gathering the precum. His hips bucked a little, but he couldn't go far.

You continued stroking him until he was a whimpering mess. His orgasm was so slowly building up. He was desperate for release. Desperate for touch.

Jensen felt your lips wrap around the tip, and he almost lost it. He lay there as still as possible as you took his entire length into your mouth repeatedly. Every time you sucked his tip, he pulled on the restraints.

He knew he could stop you or take over at any time. All he had to do was use his voice. His gorgeous voice.

"Y/n." He said.

There was a change in his tone. He wasn't begging. He wasn't using the proper name either. You knew exactly why. You removed your mouth from him, not before sucking his tip again, though.

"Yes, sir?" You asked.

"Get me out of these." He said.

You removed the blindfold and the ropes that had him bound by the wrists and ankles. As soon as he was free, you were no longer in charge.

Jensen grabbed your hips and immediately positioned you under him. It happened so fast. He practically threw you. Not that you cared.

His hands found your lingerie and began ripping it off your body. Literally. You heard the lace rip a few times. But it mostly survived.

"Think you can fucking tease me like that and get away with it?" He said.

You thought you were about to be punished, but his face softened a bit.

"You're gonna pay for it next time. Now, I just want you." He said.

"What do you want, sir?" You asked.

"Wanna fuck this pretty pussy of yours." He said.

You felt his tip slip into your entrance. He used his hands to pin yours above your head as he slid in the rest of the way.

He didn't waste time letting you adjust. He immediately set a pace and began pounding into you. It almost seemed like he didn't care if you came or not. He was searching for his release, but due to the length of his cock, he was hitting your g-spot with every thrust.

"Fuck Y/n. You turn me on so much." He said.

"I can relate." You said.

Everything about him turned you on. His lips. His eyes. His hair. His arms. His back. God his back. His muscles. His beautiful bow legs. His tongue and hands. Oh, the things he could do with them. His words. His voice. Just his voice alone could make you feel like you were gonna cum.

He's a god. Everything he does, he does with passion. The two of you made eye contact as your walls began to clench around his throbbing cock.

You almost couldn't see his eyes. They were so clouded with lust. You were sure yours looked the same.

Your skin flashed white, then flushed red. Your body shook, and your pussy clenched. You came hard, and it was drawn out as Jensen came inside you.

After the two of you got settled into bed, he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your neck.

"You and bean, okay?" He asked.

"Yeah. We're great."

After years of trying, you and Jensen were finally expecting a baby. You haven't had a whole lot of sex. He was worried about hurting the baby. But tonight, he needed you.

LA<3