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sunspray-peak · 5 months

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Ch. 63: The Art of Letting Go

THURSDAY - WINTER 18

Achilles had always sought to maximize productivity whenever possible, but a new benefit he’d uncovered to being a natural early rise was the extra time it gave him to spend with Alex. In fact, waking up at 6:00am gave them nearly two hours together before Alex had to leave for work.

Yesterday had been, to paraphrase Achilles, a “coming” rather than a “going,” but the Night Market’s late night festivities and Alex’s late night words had together helped Achilles find a rather sounder sleep than usual, and he had woken this morning in a more energized mood.

For breakfast, he had proudly boiled them two eggs each before gleefully mashing an avocado, while Alex fried up some bacon and toast. Afterwards, Achilles washed up (“What are you talking about? I hate washing dishes, that’s the one chore I can’t stand,” Alex had said in response to Achilles’ “I’m being gaslit” insistence that Alex had once said he loved it) while Alex escaped to the bedroom to change into his uniform.

They switched places, with Alex heading back to the living room for his daily 20 minute stretch routine that Achilles had refused to partake in for no good reason (“except to just be difficult, huh?”), instead choosing to return to his bathroom to blow dry his hair.

But with Alex out of sight, even so—how nice it felt! To know there was another person in the house.

Not words I thought you would ever be thinking, Voltaire seemed to say as he watched Achilles unscrew the lid off his his hairstyling clay.

Achilles amended his thoughts. A specific person in the house. A person who loved him and whom he loved in return. He retreaded the road of Alex’s reassurances from the previous night—

I hope I can give you some sort of peace of mind…

But as a sunrise swelled in his chest at the thought, he realized, it was more than just peace of mind. Alex gave him peace.

Well. In some ways, at least.

Alex must’ve made the bed earlier, had even straightened the pillows; his extreme (in Achilles’ opinion) dedication to order and organization Achilles had found to be just a little bit unnerving.

Now Achilles didn’t think he was messy, but even so, he was suddenly feeling the pressure to organize the rest of his room, and found himself hanging his scarves and straightening his bookshelf, until he had realized he’d cleared his desk of everything but a notebook and a pen.

Hmm.

Seemed like enough of a sign.

As if in a trance, he sat down.

“Are you writing?”

Alex must’ve slipped into the room at some point. How he had missed him enter, Achilles wasn’t sure; Alex wasn’t the most light-footed guy, and with that bright orange quarter-zip the gym made him wear…

With the characteristic tilt of his head, Alex leaned over Achilles’ shoulder for a better look, but there was nothing to read for Achilles hadn’t yet put pen to paper.

“No, this is actually the part that comes before the writing, where you just stare at a blank page for a few hours before calling it a day and taking a depression nap.”

“Oh, I see. Can I?” Alex reached for the pen.

Achilles answered his questioning look by scooting to his left with a nod, but Alex went ahead and attempted to sit in his lap anyway.

“What are you doing, you’re like 200 pounds—”

“Two hundr—it’s not like you’re a tiny dude, Ash, I’m not going to break you—anyway, you didn’t have any complaints last night—”

Achilles managed a rather choking laugh between muttering something about “weight distribution,” while Alex, willfully oblivious to Achilles struggling to readjust to a more comfortable position beneath him, remained huddled over the desk, determinedly scribbling something on the page as Achilles attempted to rip it out from under his fingers.

“Right, let’s see what you’ve got for me, you menace…” Achilles wrapped his arms across Alex’s stomach and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Tada.” With a flourish, Alex set the pen down on the notebook and slid his doodle of ‘A.M. + A.R.’ framed within a lopsided Cupid’s heart forward. “I hope this super amazing piece of art inspires the rest of your day.”

Achilles’ exaggerated, sarcastic gasp led to him having to dodge a retaliating head butt. “Wow! You did this? Wow! Thank you so much, Al, this is amazing.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you try to do something nice…” But Alex was chuckling as he swung his legs to the side and hopped down (“Really? I was just getting comfortable”) to take a seat back on Achilles’ bed instead. “Do you want to write?”

“I… maybe? I think so. I got this big ass pseudo inspirational speech from Elliott yesterday… And you’re going to be at work all day, I feel like I should be doing something, too. Why? You think I don’t actually want to?”

“Nah, I was just thinking… I don’t know. These past few days with Elliott’s reading and stuff… I’d been thinking maybe that was partly why the past few days have maybe been a little hard. For you. Sorry, don’t mean to assume though…”

Achilles turned in his chair to better face him, his pen spinning smoothly between his fingers. “Hard because I’m a bad person who gets driven mad with envy upon hearing of other people’s success like the spiteful little gremlin I am?”

“Everyone gets jealous, Ash, can’t help that, it doesn’t make you a bad person. You still planned Elliott’s book reading for him and tried to help him find an agent and everything, didn’t you? Despite it all?”

Achilles grunted and turned back forward.

“Well. You’re right. It was grating on me. But what doesn’t grate on me! Might as well call me a cheese grater at a fromagerie, the rate I get grated.” He threw his hands up, just to have them collide into Alex, who grasped them and gently brought them back down to Achilles’ sides. “But I’m going to sit here until I write something. It’s going to be shitty and it’s going to be rough, but for the first time in awhile, I feel like I actually want to at least try. Insert something here about determination and motivation and self actualization… Or no—was it demystification? I can’t remember exactly…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, that was like five too many words for me.”

“It was something Elliott was saying yesterday, some writing advice some author once gave him. I think he was trying to make me feel better, which I appreciate, but he was using a lot of words and I only had like five functioning brain cells at the time…

“But he was just basically saying that wanting to write takes more than just hard work, that you sometimes need to sort of really step away from it for a bit, focus on yourself—which, you know, is fair, and it clearly worked for him—remember when we went to Sunspray Peak last Summer for a few days? He was having writer’s block and I had suggested he get out of his own head for a bit and oh my god I just realized he was quoting me.” Achilles paused. “Well, not quoting, exactly, I would never have phrased it the way he did.”

He glanced back at his desk and picked up his pen again, sent in spinning through his fingers. “But anyway, I feel like I’m… in a better place. Overall. Than I’ve been in a hot minute, so, you know, might as well… try…” He trailed off as his eyes were drawn from the notebook back to the man standing over his shoulder.

Oh, Alex… There he was, grinning wide and bright-eyed in obvious excitement, practically bouncing, really—or, on second thought, maybe he was just exercising. A true multitasking legend.

“What are you going to write?” Alex asked.

“I have no fucking idea.” Achilles tapped his pen against the notebook, then glanced at Alex’s green eyes and smiled. “Whatever the hell comes easy, I suppose.”

“That’s my man.” He leaned down to grab Achilles’ face with both hands and pressed his lips firmly into his cheek before cuffing him (not particularly lightly) on the side of the head and skipping back to the living room.

*****

Motivation. Determination. Something about self-enlightenment. What?

After Alex had left for work, Achilles had carefully cut out Alex’s doodle from the morning and taped it to his bathroom mirror. That had bought him about five minutes before he forced himself to return to his desk.

Motivation. Determination. Perspiration? Was it really perspiration?

Man, why was he even trying so hard to remember Elliott’s highfalutin version of his own words.

You just don’t want to write, punk. You’ll take any distraction.

But he did want to write—really! He hadn’t been lying to Alex—there had been signs. Signs all around!

Forget the signs, bitch!

But even forgetting the signs, there was something new simmering within him that made him believe it to be true. Motivation? Inspiration? Pick an -ation. He did want to write, he did, he did!

Achilles walked to the kitchen and made a pot of tea and bought himself another 10 minutes.

He returned to his desk.

No ideas came to mind.

He had told Elliott once that he had rarely suffered from writer’s block. That was clearly a lie.

Although, perhaps, it really just depended on how one defined writer’s block.

He had simply chosen to stop writing of his own accord—yes, after all that business with Eddie Bloomsbury, his decision to stop writing had been exactly that: a decision. An active choice.

Hadn’t it?

No… be honest with yourself, Achilles Desrosiers…

The truth of the matter was, he’d tried to write again. After Apparition, after Eddie Bloomsbury’s negative review that still haunted his dreams. He’d been in his last week at rehab, lying under snow white sheets in a bedroom purposefully decked in the most calming of neutral tones, when a story had occurred to him. It had been the middle of the night, and he had bolted to his desk, fumbled in the dark for a pen to jot the idea down so that it wouldn’t escape in the night.

And yet, when he woke the next morning and read over the post-it note scribble, he’d thought that, perhaps, the idea didn’t wasn’t quite as good as he had thought it to be just hours before. In fact, it was rather terrible, and there was really no point in putting in the effort to turn it into something. What had he been thinking? Bad ideas all around. He wasn’t cut out for this, clearly.

The whole series of events had annoyed him at the time. And then it had really pissed him off.

But his writer’s block hadn’t caused his depression. No, it’d been the other way around, he understood that now—after all, when was the last time he’d really been motivated to write?

Sure, there had been that brief moment during the Summer, but it had been an outlier—a little blip spurred by an out-of-the-ordinary good mood. Yes, the last time, he’d actually really, genuinely enjoyed it had been during his old Henry Spector days. It’d been the last time he’d been able to actually churn out something halfway decent. Had been the last time he’d genuinely wanted to even churn out something at all.

After Apparition, after Eddie Bloomsbury—looking back, he’d been a bit burnt out even before he’d written that garbage book, but after—well, of course things had taken a nosedive down to rock bottom for a bit. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to write in rehab.

Sure, things had gotten better there, with his therapist and his medication, but he had still been floundering, gasping for air. He had still felt alone, had still felt worthless, and any remaining creative and emotional energy he’d managed to cobble together had been snuffed out over the years at BRLO.

By the time he moved to Stardew Valley, all he had had left were his regrets—leaving his family and friends for the southern coast, the years he’d put in at an ad agency he’d hated, his decision to publish a novel he had known wasn’t good, his decision to give up.

No wonder his mind had been so overwhelmingly starved for some kind of distraction, something new. It had been ready to accept that his ambitions would likely forever remain unrealized; his mind had been ready to move on. But his heart had refused to let it go.

He had been holding on so, so tightly to his pride and his excuses and his envy and his impossible expectations and—as Alex had so wisely once surmised—what he thought he wanted, rather than taking a step back to take another, better look—to reevaluate and listen and accept that, perhaps the constant stream of mental roadblocks should’ve been a sign in and of itself that something wasn’t quite right. That there was surely more to him than his early string of successes and his subsequent stream of failures.

As Elliott had said yesterday, he needed to let it all go if he wanted peace.

And he could, now. He knew he could. A season ago—hell, a year ago—it would’ve been impossible for him.

But though he knew the lows would continue to come and go, he knew he was stronger now, more willing to ask for help, more willing to listen, and most of all, more self-aware than he had been in a long, long time.

He lit all the candles in his bedroom, including the ones in storage (buying himself yet another ten minutes), before returning to his desk chair. Lavender and rose, eucalyptus and bergamot, vanilla spice and jasmine. Sea salt and orange. He closed his eyes and breathed it all in.

*****

It was nearly 2 o’clock when he finally managed to crank out a sentence—but by the time sunset had rolled around, he had found that he had filled a little over half a dozen of pages. It was shitty, and it was rough, but, as he told Voltaire while heating up both their dinners, it had been done.

The art of letting go.

Hmm. That would make for a good post it note on his mirror.

#llnks #sdv fanfiction #sdv alex #stardew alex #sdv oc #stardew valley oc #sdv fanfic #sdv fic

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scorchedhearth · 2 years

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for the drabbles can i request kyle drawing/painting jason

you sure can! this was fun :>

get your own drabble

This is wildly underwhelming. Given, Jason’s interactions with art have been few and far between, his knowledge comes mostly from movies and books which isn’t the most reliable source, yes. To say he wasn’t prepared would be one way to put it. Still. This is underwhelming and now he has to temper down his expectations.

Because posing for Kyle is nothing like he imagined. He may have kept himself from saying ‘Draw me like one of your french girls.’ out loud but he thought about it anyway, who wouldn’t have when asked to model? But whatever he imagined didn’t include Kyle making him keep a position that cramped at least two muscles at a time for twenty minutes before moving him into another one that he finds interesting enough and starting the clock again, over and over. Quick studies he told him, just to warm up before starting on a real piece.

So now Jason is in Kyle’s living room turned studio, naked and sitting down on a sheet spread over a few boxes with his limbs twisted in a way that provides excellent shadows and contrasts Kyle told him. He believes him, elbows aren’t meant to lay like that on knees, the strain in his joint attests to that. And sure he could leave, he could stand up and go do something more exciting, easy as that. But the soft smile Kyle made when he sat down behind his easel with his pencils and charcoal made something tug in Jason’s chest.

It had been weeks since he could draw, even longer since he managed to sneak studies and real-life drawing, Lantern duties keeping him busy along with the League and Earth troubles. The happy thrum in his fingers and satisfied hums he sighs every so often are too good for Jason to rip them out of his hands. So he sits as he’s told, listens to the city noises and lead scrapping paper as Kyle is lost in his own head.

When he’s not making him face away, Jason seizes the opportunity to study him in return. They’ve been growing closer and closer these past few months, and Jason does his fair share of staring of course but Kyle always catches up to it and shoot him a smile or a wink, breaking the spell of watching unseen. But here, with Kyle lost in his piece, too busy focusing on working the right shade or getting an angle perfectly, he doesn’t register Jason’s gaze. That leaves him to drink in the sight, the lines of his face, the swoop of dark hair right above his eyes, the muscles straining in his forearms with each flick of his wrist, the tapping of his foot when he’s getting frustrated on a particular spot. It’s nice, to take his time in studying him for once.

It’s interesting to see Kyle treating him like a model and not the friend slash somewhat boyfriend they’ve become. He doesn’t look at him with his usual mirth and spark of life, instead his gaze is highly analytical, looking at flesh and skin and the way light plays over those, thinking over the mechanics and how-to of his body instead of the esthetics. It does something to his head, to have Kyle’s gaze glance over him and take him as nothing but a sum of details to decipher and sketch. He doesn’t touch him either as Jason had expected, he only instructs him from afar, shows him what he wants him to do with various limbs and body parts, how to ruffle his hair in a more interesting way. But he keeps his distance, looking at him from his easel positioned a few feet away from him, detailing his body as he might with any other subject.

He likes it, somehow. It’s another side of Kyle he doesn’t get to see. That not many people get to see, really, because as open as he is about his career and work, Kyle is rather guarded about his process. He doodles when out and will show off from time to time a more complex drawing but any more serious pieces are created behind closed doors. Be it his commercial work or more personal ones, he will shutter himself away and come out days and weeks later with the final piece to show. Jason tries not to think too hard about what it means that he’s part of the tight circle of people who Kyle allowed near him as he works.

His eyes catch the clock sitting on the table nearby and Jason allows the hand another run full circle before he speaks up.

“Time’s up.” His voice sounds incredibly loud in the quiet of his studio.

“Uh?” Kyle’s head shoots up, a frown between his eyebrow.

“I said, time’s up. Pens down, you’re done.”

“Right.” Kyle looks at his easel, then Jason, then back at it and before he can fidget with it anymore Jason stands up and take away his scene, gets his knees under himself and slowly unrolls his spine, stretching his sore shoulders.

“You’re done. You told me twenty minutes no more.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kyle huffs and set his charcoal down, wiping his fingers on a rag sitting next to his stool. He tilts his head to the right, then left, and sighs. “Think I’m done with those for now. I wanna move on to paint.” He glances at Jason who’s busy pulling on his arm to work out a crank. “You alright with that?”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “Give me ten, I need a break, and then we can do whatever you want.” He doesn’t forget to grin at the slight pink that brushes Kyle’s cheek at the innuendo.

“Shut up.” He tries to grunt but it comes out amused so Jason considers it a scored point for him. “Want anything to drink?” He asks as he picks up the robe from the nearby chair and hands it to Jason. “I think I need a break too, my wrist’s getting tight.”

“Lead the way,” Jason gestures toward the kitchen and follows Kyle, eager to share a conversation with him instead of only standing around looking hot and handsome. He says so out loud and Kyle’s laugh is almost worth the shot at his ego.

#asks #anon #dc #jaykyle #yes modeling isn’t supposed to be uncomfortable but jason was being a dick and a show-off #so kyle took advantage of that and got some nice drawing out of it #*myfic #jason todd #kyle rayner

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justsomerandomfanfic · 10 months

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Hey! Before I jumped into any requests for a personal match up, I wanted to let you know how amazing your writing is. I love the variety in it and how you stay consistent all the time. A real awesome blog to come across !!

Anyways. Some things about me for a match up—preferably within The Hobbit universe, as well as LOTR, or Sherlock! Take your time with this too. No pressure

• I go by he/they pronouns, am 5'9, and am a trans guy. Autistic as well

• Pretty plain with brown eyes and brown hair

• Very ambiverted! Extreamly awkward and stiff with new social situations, but very loud around people I'm comfy with

• Special interest includes Doctor Who and Total Drama. A big nerd, so to speak, with a huge love for cartoons. Comedy as well. I love stand-up routines and slap stick humor. Anything involving a joke, really. Part of the reason I'm always looking to lighten the room with one. It's a big quality of mine

• Music is a way of life. I never stop listening to it no matter what. When I'm doodling, writing (especially writing), reading, sitting in a car, etc. I'm always listening to something or other

That's about it. Hope it was enough, and remember to pace yourself in whatever you're doing right now. Have a great day :D

Thank you so much for your kind words! They truly made my day! <3 I am so happy you enjoy my fics and whatnot! And thank you for requesting a matchup, I hope you enjoy this as well! :)

---

The Hobbit;

Fili Durin:

👑 You met Fili when you joined the Company, bring another magic user, you were brought along with Gandalf and instantly there was a connection between you and the eldest Durin Prince; actually you were good friends with both Fili and Kili, and though you and Kili would joke around and could talk for hours, you were head over heels for Fili

👑 Fili and Kili were huge on making sure you were alright after a fight with orcs or goblins, but Fili would be the one to help you when you got hurt, scratches, bruises, etc; and you, though you were shy in the beginning, you never faltered when cleaning any of Fili's wounds

👑 You even saved Fili from dying after he got stabbed, but you were unable to save Kili; Fili, you, and most of the Company who survived mourned Kili, and you helped Fili in any way you could

👑 Fili later asked you to stay with him at the Lonely Mountain, and of course you agreed to stay, Fili would need all the help he could get after abruptly becoming King under the Mountain

👑 And you stayed with him, making sure he was taking breaks and taking care of himself, as the years went by, you got got closer; in the end, you had yourself a braid in your hair

---

Lord Of The Rings;

Merry Brandybuck:

🥬 You met Merry when he and Pippin rushed in to join the Fellowship, and you thought he was quite adorable; and it wasn't long until you got used to the group and almost endless walking, and became friends with Merry and Pippin

🥬 You were closer to Merry though, finding that you had more in common with him; From loving to make people laugh, enjoying music and song, and making sure others were alright; you both were a perfect pair

🥬 With the help from Boromir, you helped teach Pippin and Merry how to swing a sword, and it was a lot of fun; that was one of the events that brought you and Merry closer together

🥬 When the battle of the five armies began, you stayed by Merry's side, the both of you making sure the other was alright; but, an orc had somehow managed to strike you, and fearing you'd die, you confessed your love to Merry, but really, you were fine and just had a large bruise on your side, you woke up the next day

🥬 Merry was there by your bedside, asking you a flurry of questions on whether you needed anything or if you were in any pain, (he even confessed that he felt the same); it was sweet and you couldn't wait to get better and life your life with Merry, peacefully and happily

---

Sherlock:

John Watson:

🔍 You met John Watson when you came to Sherlock for help, you sibling had gone missing and you needed a true genius to help you find them; of course, Sherlock won't run away from a good mystery, and John happily followed along

🔍 During the search for your lost sib, you got closer to the Dr., learning a bit more about each other as the days and nights passed by slowly; even though it was your sibling that was missing, you tried to make John and Sherlock laugh, though Sherlock found it odd, John found it sweet

🔍 You did find your sibling a couple of days later, they had just left to start a new life with the love of their life, and upon hearing this made you realize that you were in love with John; this then led to you asking John out in the middle of a rain storm

🔍 Totally worth it though, that night John brought you into the flat, got you new clothes and a towel to dry off, and then the two of you sat and binged Doctor Who; though it was a bit awkward, you both scooted closer and closer to one another and the rest is history

🔍 John is super protective of you, even though you can totally take care of yourself, John will always be there for you, even if it's just to go out and buy milk and eggs; you are so glad and thankful to have John in your life, he is your sun, moon, and stars

---

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missspringthyme · 2 months

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March 1st, 2024

Had another eeg session today, but this time we collected data from Greek girl. I did manage to get out of the first hour or so of recording because I needed to go ask the service desk for help with fixing my MATLAB. I'm missing 2 toolboxes that should've come with my university license and I can't do any processing without them unfortunately.

Today's fit included my little white boots that unfortunately both had the rubber ripped out of the heel. I like the shoes but I keep avoiding wearing them because they are so incredibly loud without the padding. I'm not sure how to fix it, but I'm not going to just throw out perfectly good boots. Anyway, because of that I kept walking on my tip toes a little to try and lessen the noise, but it was hard to find the line between walking funny and sounding funny. It did take me a while to find the service desk, but when I did I was told the guy there was on lunch break and would be back soon. The service desk is temporarily located in a library I didn't know existed in the building I had most of my tutorials last semester, which is not the main building with the main library. I took a seat at one of the tables and doodled to some music before the guy tapped me on the shoulder to ask what I needed.

I walked him through the problem and stood there for what seemed like ages while he clicked through my computer, eventually telling me he would have to put in a ticket to escalate it to the ultra IT guys. I had really been laying on the charm because I knew I looked good and sometimes it's fun to see people get dazzled, also it's nice seeing people walk away from interactions with you with a little glow about them. That was when another guy came and asked my IT guy why he was writing a ticket and insisted he could fix the problem. Second guy was absolutely flirting with me, which always feels nice. What was even nicer was when he started stepping over the line a little and talking to me in that special way where the concept of "pretty girl" makes you special, but a little less of a human. When he said "why do you need MATLAB anyway?" and I responded "oh, I'm studying neuropsychology its for brain imaging" he kinda blinked a little and some of the suaveness drained out of him. Sometimes I forget that when I dress super feminine people are nicer to me but expect less from me, and then I have an interaction like that.

Anyway, 2nd guy admitted defeat for the same reason as 1st guy and 1st guy went to work putting in the ticket for me. I made sure to be even more nice to him because he just had the other guy come in and try and show him up. He Aldo fixed the problem with my phone where it wasn't connecting to the University's wifi so hooray (even though I have a data plan, my phone company says I don't use my data enough in Germany to roam in the Netherlands, this means sometimes I get 2 seconds of very slow data before it stops all together. Unless I'm connected to wifi, I have no connection in the Netherlands.)!

When I got to the eeg lab my supervisor had me run through the rest of the experiment by myself while he watched from outside the sound proof cube on the camera. It took every ounce of my being to not fall asleep. I've decided I'll be coming to campus on Monday to attend the lab meeting in person and then stay the night at former Italian roommates to then go to my meeting on Tuesday. My supervisor told me to come to his office early on Monday if I wanted and I 100% am. That man is responsible for the entirety of the rest of my grades and I need him to like me. Plus some one on one face time could be good for figuring out my thesis.

Back home, I cooked and ate an entire veggie pizza before I joined the dnd game which was fine. I'm still trying to figure out my character a little.

That night, I had a bit of a freak out and spiraled about my future. I had this moment while I was washing my face at 1 in the morning where I just couldn't stop crying with all the soap on my face. I know this is coming from me not being occupied enough and also from being in my 20s but jesus.

Interesting day!

#march #thesis #dnd

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monotone-artist · 2 years

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doodles of this au thing ive been thinking about. basicallyyy, hollow (accidentally) smuggles a bunch of their siblings into the white palace and is now trying to keep them a secret. more details under read-more cause it got rambley sjdfhjdsfhsdf

SO. i haven’t really ironed out the details or anything, but yeah. it’s more of a vague idea than anything else

hollow isn’t allowed to leave the palace, but they still somehow come across some of their siblings. something (loneliness? familiarity? they don’t know) propels them to bring their siblings back home, but because hollow is also kinda rlly selfish with wanting to prove their purity/worth to their parents and they don’t want to share that, they hide them away in the closet in their room, since literally nobody goes in there. (it’s a biiig closet)

unfortunately for hollow, they’re quickly running out of room in the closet and their siblings keep sneaking out. there are vessels gotdam everywhere. things keep mysteriously disappearing or breaking. the retainers swear up and down that the shadows are following them. hollow is very, very stressed out.

hornet doesn’t really have a sibling-esque relationship with hollow very much? at first anyway. she has no idea any of the other vessels exist, since theyre actually super good at sneaking around. when hornet + hollow first met, hornet was actually all !!! sibling! cause childlike curiosity and reallyyyy wanting a sibling to play with.

however, as they grew up, between hollow kind of not rlly reciprocating her interactions, the white lady + pale king keeping her away from them, and the fact she and her mom just don’t often visit anyway, she just starts treating them like a pretty object like everybody else does.

it was around then, too, that hollow, as they got to know their siblings, stops being so jealous about their whole pure i-must-be-the-only-hollow-one thing, and instead starts worrying for their siblings and themself: what if they were discovered? would the pale king kick their siblings out? execute them? kill them himself? what would happen to hollow?

at one point, after a surprisingly long time, hollow’s ploy gets discovered by hornet. she manages to spot ghost before they could completely hide away, though it was still actually fine for a little while longer because she thought she was going insane, thinking there was an actual ghost doppelganger of hollow haunting the palace or something (hence ghost’s name in this au).

hornet starts to get real sus though, and because she is, too, a sneaky little bug, she catches hollow with the closet chock-full of vessels and she’s like ???? and they were like ??? and everybody kinda freaks out. she immediately reevaluates everything she thought she’d known about the hollow knight, and decides to help hollow keep their siblings hidden. and thus the sibling bonding begins <3

#hollow knight #sketches #hollow #hornet #ghost #greenpath vessel #broken vessel #hidden siblings au

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agape-bakery · 3 years

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Hi ! I love your blog and your idea to make a bakery is just awesome ^-^ anyway how are you ? I hope you have a good day :) I'm here to request a female mc who love drawing. And i wonder if you can make brothers react to mc who draw them when they're sleeping, eating or i don't know like you want. If you can of vourse it's not an obligation :3

I wish you a good day \(^-^)/

💫

Thank you so much! I really enjoy the location-themed blogs here like Cafes and such so I'm happy you think the same! I'm doing good! And also, YESS!! I love Artist MCs/Y/Ns because I'm an artist myself! I hope you enjoy these!

The Brothers with an F! MC who draws

Lucifer

He already knew you love to draw and didn't mind that, at least that's one good hobby someone has on his list compared to gambling and parties

If there is something Lucifer appreciates about humans, it's their art and cultures, he might take you to art museums for inspiration and have a date in a cafe and talk to you about the paintings you both saw

If art museums are not your thing, he would be a little disappointed but then again, some artists like more modern artworks and some that are shown online so he understands

And frankly, having you draw him makes him immensely proud of himself for having a talented girlfriend like you, he doesn't ask that you draw him but he secretly wants to

Lucifer occasionally buys art supplies for you but only if you've been good

"So you joined Mammon on going to the casino to draw the people there?"

"Pretty much...."

"Hmm.. I guess you aren't going to get some Copics from me anytime soon."

"WHAT-"

Lucifer is also observant and knows when and who you're drawing immediately

"I can see you staring at me."

His eyes looked up at yours as you looked away, pencil in hand.

"No, I'm not."

He's seen you glance at him several times before looking down at your sketchbook.

It was breakfast and you were sat between a sleeping Belphie and a distracted Beel so you took the time to draw the eldest when no one's looking.

Lucifer hummed and told Beel not to eat so messily as you continued to draw him.

Lucifer has seen many sketches of him and the brothers and when you give him some as a gift, he keeps it well-protected somewhere that Mammon can't steal in his bedroom.

Mammon

He absolutely cherishes every drawing you have, the boy keeps a doodle of him and you as a good luck charm too <3

He might ask that you do commissions and he gets some of it (for giving the idea and managing the commissions-) but one glare and he'll shut up with a nervous chuckle and an "H-hey! It's just a joke!"

When Mammon sees you staring at some art supplies, he checks it again when he's alone and dies inside because of the price and buys it immediately, he doesn't care if he loses a lot of money only a little bit, all he wants is to see your face when he gives it to you

"You better be grateful that The Great Mammon even thought of giving this to you!... Do-don't look at me like that! It was on sale!!"

While Mammon was napping on his couch, you hastily opened your sketchbook and started sketching him and the boy never realized

By the time he woke up, you were already finished doing 5 sketches of him and taking pictures of him for reference

"Oi! What are you doing? Gimme that!"

His heart completely melts because??? you drew him so good??? his girlfriend drew him???? for free??? and out of love????

He also draws you but it's just a stickman with a messy face but you still love it all the same

Leviathan

Finally...another Artist...AND HIS GIRLFRIEND NO LESS!!

He's so happy and giddy to show off his art supplies but he's hesitant when it comes to showing off his art because he thinks it's horrible compared to yours

You encourage him and usually learn together with him whenever he feels awful about his art

He's the Avatar of Envy so there are many times where he's compared himself to other artists so you had to be there to keep him grounded

Art Date, anyone??

It doesn't matter whether you buy art supplies or just take a break from school, it was always nice being around Leviathan

You took the chance to draw him while he was across from you and excitedly showed it to him

He had drawn himself (albeit, in a persona) in many games and animes but your drawing was more special than anything he's ever done

He looked away, avoiding eye contact as he gave you his own drawing which was you in your favorite video game

From now on, whenever the both of you wanted to give small gifts, you draw each other!! <3

Satan

A demon who enjoys impressionism art, there's something about the dreamy landscapes and colors that really makes him calm aside from reading

I think he would paint for a change of pace but gets frustrated because of how difficult it is so he goes back to reading

So watching you draw makes him impressed, drawing takes so much time to master

He doesn't mind whatever art style you have, aside from the impressionism style, he would have yours as his favorite

He understands the pain of art block so he often invites you in his room, one where the others wouldn't bother you, just don't touch anything or else you'll turn into some random animal for a few hours

He also encourages that you read with him when you're uninspired! Reading helps the imagination and the mind, and he'd be happy to recommend some for you!

You trust him with your sketchbooks and he trusts you with his books! The both of you knew the other wouldn't do anything which is why he only lets you inside his room

While Satan makes a drink for you, humming an old song in his DDD, you drew him in overalls and glasses

When you were bored, you would always draw your boyfriend in random outfits and would often show it to him (which he all loves)

"Overalls and Glasses, huh? I might wear it tomorrow." Satan grins, peeking at your sketchbook as he puts down the drinks.

Don't get your hopes too high, he isn't going to wear a maid outfit........yet-

Asmodeus

Oh? You draw? Wellll, if you need a model, he's happy to be your own personal model, but it comes with a price ;)

He loves that you draw! And would ask you to draw him

There's many artworks he likes but yours he enjoys the most, even if you aren't his girlfriend

Might ask you if you can design outfits and draw him in certain outfits so he can try them out!

Of course, drawing is not an easy feat so he'll pay you handsomely~

If you do commissions, he gets one just so he can support you

He knows that art doesn't pay much yet it is so overlooked by others

"Everywhere is art, darling, I'm surprised some humans don't know that! Of course, I'm the most beautiful art there is but I'll have you as second~"

He might blush if you draw him without him asking, he think he's desirable enough to draw without a price! After hearing that you just love him might make him blush harder! Aww, you!

He'll give you several pecks as he laughs after seeing your drawing of him! One where he was posing in one of the photos you had of him during your dates

Anatomy is hard so if you want a nude model, he'll volunteer on the spot, sure he has thoughts but if you're fully intent on getting better, he's happy to help!

Beelzebub

He's not the type to focus on art so he doesn't understand it much, that doesn't mean he isn't impressed though!

He has heard of Food Art and Food Illustrations though...Based by the Arty Event, he seems to be good at drawing food! He wanted to try it more but Lucifer forbid him in case he would eat the paper and get chemical poisoning or something-

However, if you could also draw food, he would be so delighted!!! He won't eat it, he promises!

It's fine if you don't, though, he expects that you might not understand working out and sports like he doesn't understand art

Might be clueless if ever you feel bad about your drawings, he thinks it looks really good! But upon hearing how frustrated you are, he would give you hugs to comfort you!

While Beel is a oblivious sweetheart, he fully supports your hobbies and would invite you to diners and restaurants so you can draw while he eats! He might even join you while he's eating

As he eats a huge cheeseburger, you drew him, smiling at how happy he looked

When you gave it to him, he told you how spot on you drew him when he eats and keeps it around him, he avoids it getting dirty at any cost

Belphie suggested that gets a photo frame so he bought one! Now your drawing of him lays on his bedrest safely~

Belphegor

He used to love art as much as Satan and Lucifer does but he doesn't anymore, not until you showed him your drawings

You rekindled a small flame in him that he never thought would come back

He doesn't draw because it's way too much work but he enjoys hearing you draw, the sound the pencil makes when it moves around the paper, and the smell of lead and paper makes him sleepy

He secretly likes those papers that have a nice smell in them so you buy some whenever you go out to get some art supplies

"That's way too many sketchbooks, MC."

"Nothing is way too much-"

Because he always sleeps around you, he doesn't entirely realize that you have a bunch of drawings of him in your sketchbook

It makes him warm when he sees your drawings of him

He wishes he could do more to support you even if you tell him he doesn't have to so like Beel, he keeps your drawings near his bed and looks at it before he sleeps

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2dmenenthusiast · 3 years

Text

“I’m not even sure if that’s a real species.”

(Ryan Lucan x GN!Reader)

this didn't turn out as great as I wanted it to cuz I'm absolute shit at writing fluff but I already have another Ryan fic in the works to make up for it (that break shit was apparently a lie) I hope ya'll enjoy anyway.

Reblogs are always appreciated!

Summary: Between shitty drawings of birds and struggling with your feelings for your best friend, Ryan is determined to make your birthday one to remember

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings/other info: major spoilers for LIS: True Colors, swearing, shitty pacing, my mediocre attempt at writing fluff

“Are you done yet?”

Your feet skidded against the floor, the rubber soles of your shoes creating a loud squeak as you stopped the chair from rolling forward. Spinning to face Ryan, you give him a wide grin.

“Nope.”

He shakes his head and leans forward in his seat, looking over his work as he lets you continue your antics.

It was a beautiful day in Haven Springs, the sun shining in the bright blue sky, a comfortable breeze shaking the leaves. Most people in town were probably going hiking along the trails. You? Well, you couldn’t think of a more perfect time to bother your dear friend, Ryan, at his place of work. He wasn’t surprised to see you walk into the ranger station with two cups of coffee and a box of takeout from the bar, used to your random visits. But he told you with a guilty expression and those familiar puppy dog eyes that he had too much work to take a break with you. You had waved him off, letting him know that it was okay and you could just hang around to keep him company. Though, he didn’t think agreeing would mean you acting like an absolute menace around him.

Rolling over to the other desk, you began looking through the drawers for something to fidget with when you found a walkie, smiling to yourself as you clicked it on and held down the button.

“... Lookin’ good over there, mountain man.”

Ryan let out a soft curse and flinched when he heard his own walkie go off next to him, grabbing it before turning towards you with a narrowed gaze. “Really?”

“Ah ah! You have to talk into the walkie. Over”

“I’m not speaking into the-”

“I’m sorry, I think I’m getting a little static, can you repeat that? Over.”

Letting out a sigh, he couldn’t help but smile as he brought the walkie closer to his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m what? Over.”

“You’re ridiculous! Over.”

A wide smile broke out on your face as Ryan let out a soft chuckle, and you placed the walkie back inside the desk drawer before rolling over to him and lightly nudging him with your chair.

“What’s got you all stressed out? You’re usually more easy going than this,” you asked, taking a glance at what was on his desk.

He shrugged. “Just- you know, new regulations and things to go over. It’s no big deal. Just not the most fun part of my job, I guess.”

You nodded, spotting a yellow notepad and sliding it towards yourself before grabbing a pen. He watched as you drew a quick doodle of a bird, and you propped it against the lamp on the corner of the desk.

“There, now you have a feathered friend to keep you company while you're inside.”

Ryan tilted his head, examining the drawing. “I’m not even sure if that’s a real species.”

You scoffed, smacking his shoulder as he laughed. “Oh, whatever. Next time draw your own damn bird.” Standing up, you fished your phone out of your pocket to check the time. “Oh shit, I’m gonna be late. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah, and don’t forget to meet me at the Lantern tonight.”

Nodding, you gave Ryan a quick hug before racing out the door and driving to work. Ever since Riley left, you quickly took over her position at the flower shop so Eleanor wouldn’t be managing the store alone. You could tell she needed the help, no matter how often she told you she was fine. Luckily, she was getting more used to accepting your help as time went on.

You stepped into the flower shop with minutes to spare, letting out a breath as you walked into the back office. Grabbing your apron, you tied it around yourself before clocking in, and as you stepped out of the room, Eleanor came out of the greenhouse with a bundle of flowers in her hand.

“Oh! Dear, what are you doing here?”

“Uh, working my shift?”

“Oh. I was sure I had you scheduled off for today,” Eleanor said, walking into the office to check your schedule.

You looked at her with your eyebrows drawn up in confusion. “But, I usually work today, don’t I?”

“Well, yes, but I assumed you didn’t want to spend your birthday working.”

Your eyes slightly widened before your expression fell and you let out a sigh. “Shit. I’m sorry, Eleanor. I’ve been so busy, I guess I just forgot.”

“Oh, I understand, dear. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t forget important things, too. Do you wanna go home?”

You shook your head. “No. No, it’s fine. I’m already here, so, might as well get some work done.”

Eleanor nodded, handing you the bundle of flowers before walking back into the greenhouse. A quiet sigh left you as you walked behind the counter and wrapped up the bundle of lilies, taking them over to the case of flowers. It didn’t surprise you that you forgot. In the past, your birthday had never been something you made a big deal about, so why should you now? The most you ever did was watch movies and have a few drinks with Ryan, Steph, and Alex, and there was nothing you enjoyed more than hanging out with them.

Steph and Ryan had been your best friends ever since you could remember, along with Gabe. When Alex came to Haven, she fit right in with all of you. And when Gabe died… well, safe to say it was hard on all of you. Like a piece had been ripped out and replaced with a giant hole. You made sure to be there for each other, especially when all the drama went down with Typhon and Jed. And when Ryan found out about his father, you could only imagine how he felt.

You remember countless nights staying up with him as he yelled and cried and questioned how his father could do such a terrible thing. There was nothing more you wanted to do than take his pain away, but all you could do was be there for him, and let him know that the people around him loved him.

You felt your face heat up when you recalled the nights he fell asleep on your shoulder after staying up late and filling up on takeout, and you shook your head as you walked back behind the counter. You knew your feelings for Ryan went way above platonic. The way he smiled, his laugh, that puppy dog look he gave you when he was confused or flustered. Everything about him made your heart flutter. And the way he would light up when he talked about his job or listed off random facts about the birds he saw when you two went on hikes, it all just made you fall for him even more.

Though, there was something nagging at the back of your head. If it was your birthday, why didn’t Ryan say anything to you earlier? You glanced up when you heard the bell above the door ring, and Alex greeted you with a small smile and a wave.

“Hey! How’ve you been, Alex?” you asked as she walked up, placing her hands on the counter. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Just came to pick up some flowers.”

You nodded and gestured over to the cooler, and she took her time as she looked over them, seeming to look for something specific. She finally reached in and pulled out a bouquet of roses, and you raised your eyebrows with a small smirk as she placed them in front of you.

“Ah. Special night with Steph?”

She shifted her gaze for a moment and let out a small laugh, reaching a hand up to rub the back of her neck. “You could say that. Oh, happy birthday, by the way.”

You smiled as you rang her up. “Thank you. Seems like everyone’s remembered except me. Well, and Ryan.”

Alex tilted her head as her brows furrowed. “Did he not say anything?” she asked, able to pick up the disappointment in your voice.

“No. But he was busy and seemed distracted when I saw him, so I don’t blame him.”

“I’m sure he’ll make it up to you.”

You nodded, and she gave you a reassuring look before grabbing the flowers and leaving, the jingling of the bell ringing loudly in the empty room. Fingers gripping the counter, you let out a shaky breath and dropped your head, trying to calm down the rapid beating of your heart. You felt pathetic. The mere mention or thought of Ryan seemed to make your heart race these days. It was a miracle you could even keep your composure around him. After being friends with him for so many years, you guess your conscience just couldn’t take it anymore.

But how could you ever confess to him? No, you couldn’t ruin your friendship like that. Ryan was one of the best things in your life, and you wouldn’t risk it for anything. Even if it meant keeping your feelings hidden.

“Hon, are you okay?”

You jumped when you heard Eleanor’s voice, looking up to meet her concerned gaze. You gave her a tight lipped smile and nodded.

“Yeah. Guess I’m just in my own head today.”

She hesitated before nodding and leaving you alone again, and you huffed as you placed your elbows against the counter. Today was going to be long.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay a little longer? I know there’s more to be done.”

“Oh stop it, you. I can take care of it. Go enjoy the rest of your night,” Eleanor said, practically pushing you out the door.

You sighed and reluctantly walked out of the shop, waving at her through the window before adjusting your bag on your shoulder and walking to your car. You were about to get in when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you took it out to see that Ryan texted you.

-6:11 Ryan:

Remember. Black Lantern after your shift.

You chuckled to yourself, quickly typing up a response.

-6:12 You:

Yes, Mister Park Ranger, sir

Har har. Just get your butt here.

-6:14 Ryan:

But not the rest of me? Idk if that’s possible, Ry.

-6:14 You:

You’re ridiculous.

-6:15 Ryan:

So you’ve told me. Be there in a few.

-6:16 You:

Pocketing your phone, you locked your car before walking down the main road towards the bar, wondering what Ryan’s urgency was. If it was to try another experimental drink, you were going to kick his ass. Last time that happened, you ended up throwing up your lunch. You arrived at the Black Lantern in just a few minutes, but when you opened the door and all the lights were off, you wondered if Ryan made a mistake.

“What the hell-”

“SURPRISE!”

The lights suddenly flickered on as people jumped up from where they were hiding, and Steph walked over with the biggest grin on her face as she blew into a noisemaker and threw paper confetti into the air.

“Happy birthday, loser.”

You scoffed, still reeling from the surprise before reaching up to pull a few pieces of confetti out of your hair. “You’re helping me get all this out later.”

She just laughed and threw an arm around your shoulders, leading you further into the bar. Everyone that you passed wished you a happy birthday, and you smiled and thanked them all, even accepting the hug Duckie gave you before you could walk past him.

“You guys really didn’t have to do this, you know,” you muttered, stopping at the bar when Steph went to grab a few beers.

“Nonsense! You never let us do anything special for your birthday. At least let us spoil you a bit this year.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile before looking down when you felt someone poke your arm. “Ethan! See, I knew the life of the party was here somewhere.”

He gave you a toothy grin before reaching behind him and pulling out one of his comics, nervously holding it out to you. “I uh, I wanted to give you something for your birthday. It’s an early copy of the newest volume I’m working on. I wanted you to get the first look at it.”

Your eyes slightly widened as you looked at the beautifully drawn cover, gently running your fingers over it. You had to admit, Ethan was crazy talented for a kid his age.

“Thank you, Ethan. I’m sure I’ll love it,” you said, and the boy nodded excitedly.

Hearing someone call your name, you looked up and saw Steph waving you over, Alex sitting with her in the booth. Taking a seat across from them, you narrowed your eyes as your gaze shifted between them.

“Alright, whose bright idea was this?”

They gave each other a look, trying to hold back their smiles as you heard someone behind you clear their throat.

“That would be me, actually.”

Turning in your seat, your eyes landed on Ryan standing behind you, a nervous smile on his face and his hands behind his back. Of course.

“Why am I not surprised?”

His grin widened for a split second before suddenly dropping, looking down at his shoes for a moment. “Um, can we talk outside for a sec?”

Nodding, you stood up from your seat to follow him, but you didn’t miss the giggles and quiet hushes coming from the two girls. You only got to glance back at them for a second before Ryan was placing a hand on your back and leading you out of the Lantern. The sun was almost finished setting, barely peeking out from the mountains in the distance as the water reflected beautiful oranges and yellows. No matter how long you lived in Haven Springs, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to how beautiful the sky was.

You and Ryan walked to the end of the dock, looking out at the water and mountains before you stole a glance at him. The way the light shone on his face, accentuating the curves and sharp lines of his features and reflected off his blue eyes- god, how could a man be so fucking pretty?

You quickly looked away before he could catch you staring, swallowing down the lump in your throat before you eventually turned your body towards him.

“Y’know, you didn’t have to-”

You could barely get your sentence out when Ryan was suddenly holding a bouquet of roses towards you, and you looked between his anxious expression and the red flowers for a moment before something in your head clicked.

Oh. Oh.

And then you were laughing. Ryan released the breath he seemed to be holding, his expression morphing into one of confusion before he let out a quiet chuckle of his own. “What’s- What’s so funny?”

Reaching out, your fist lightly punched his chest before you carefully took the flowers out of his hand, your laughter dying down into sporadic giggles.

“Nothing, just- wow. You’ve really outdone yourself, Lucan. Sending Alex to do your dirty work?”

A look of realization flashed across his features before he smiled and reached up to rub the back of his neck, face becoming flushed. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t want you finding out before the surprise, so…”

“Find out what?”

You could tell he was trying to come up with a proper response before he gestured towards the bouquet, and you took your time as you looked down at the beautiful arrangement. Roses. Red Roses. Flowers that made a very specific statement. And Ryan was giving them to… you. Disbelief filled you as you felt your heart suddenly jump up into your throat, and you looked up at Ryan with wide eyes.

“Ryan. I…”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just…” Taking the flowers from you, he carefully set them down and hesitantly reached out to grab your hands, the rough pads of his fingers brushing over your palms before your hands were entirely enveloped in his. “I… I don’t know if I can keep this a secret from you anymore.”

The way he was touching you was sending pulses up your arms, and you felt like you could barely breathe with how fast your heart was beating. “Ryan-”

“Please, just let me get this out. Then you can do whatever, walk away and never talk to me again if you want. I just need you to hear this.” You nodded, and he let out a breath as his grip on your hands tightened. “We’ve been friends ever since I can remember. Doing everything together, telling each other our deepest secrets and our greatest fears. I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone before… And, I can’t exactly pinpoint in all that time where I fell in love with you, but I know it’s been a while since then.”

It was like the ground had just been taken out from under you, Ryan the only thing keeping you from falling as his confession slowly sunk in. He… loves you?

Holy fuck. Ryan loves you??

“I guess I just wanted today to be special for you, to show you how special you are to me. You’ve been with me through everything, seen every side there is to me. And the only person I can imagine having any type of future with… is you.”

The chirping of the crickets quickly filled the gaps of silence, the noise almost getting louder after Ryan stopped talking, and you could barely think about what he said when you had so many thoughts racing in your head. Shit, what were you supposed to say?

“Um, if you want me to leave-”

“No! No, um, I just need a second to process-”

“Oh! Yeah, no, totally. Uh, go ahead,” he said, letting go of your hands.

God, you were both fucking wrecks of human beings. You could mark off Getting a confession of love from your childhood best friend from your Shit I Never Expected to Happen list. Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to Ryan and took one of his hands in both of yours, giving him a small smile.

“Listen, Ryan. I don’t need flowers or a surprise birthday party to feel special. I… I always feel special when I’m around you.”

“Sooo that means?”

You rolled your eyes, your smile growing. “It means kiss me, you dork.”

He didn’t waste any time as he carefully held your face in his hands before connecting your lips to his, and you smiled into the kiss as you wrapped your arms around him. You could mark kissing Ryan off that list, too. His hands moved from your face to wrap his arms around you, holding you close to his front as your hands came up to weave your fingers through his hair. As you leaned further into him, you heard a soft crinkling of paper, and momentarily broke the kiss so you could reach into the pocket of his flannel. Pulling out a piece of yellow paper, you unfolded it to reveal- Oh, jesus.

“Oh, my fucking god. Are you kidding me, Ry?” you laughed, turning the shitty sketch of the bird you’d drawn earlier towards him.

He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I thought it could be a good luck charm, you know? Maybe while I’m out, I’ll actually find a rare species or something that looks like that. Could make you famous one day.”

You just shook your head as Ryan laughed, the sound causing a warm, fuzzy feeling to bloom in your chest.

“Who’s the ridiculous one now?”

“Oh, I think we tie for that one.”

Ryan cut your laugh off with another kiss, and you practically melted into him as that warm feeling spread throughout your body. It goes without saying, this was the best birthday ever.

#ryan lucan x reader #ryan lucan imagine #ryan lucan #life is strange: true colors #listc imagine #life is strange #life is strange true colors #life is strange fanfiction

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magniloquent-raven · 3 years

Text

(pt1 here)

billy grew up afraid of finding his soulmate.

when he was eight his father caught him trying to wash nail polish off with soap and a hand towel.

he’d heard girls at school saying it was what you did when your soulmate was a boy. you were supposed to paint yourself up all pretty and find the person who matched. and it was easy enough to sneak into the vanity and steal a bottle of his mother’s nail polish. but once the paint dried he realized it would be impossible to hide from his father, and he panicked.

his mother showed him the bottle of nail polish remover after neil left. dabbed some on a cotton ball to rub at the thick layer of paint. she was silent, kneeling on the floor in front of him cradling his sprained wrist while he sat on the edge of the tub and cried.

they both had questions, but neither of them got answers.

it took billy months to work up the courage to try again.

he wasn’t sure why he was bothering, at first. he knew he couldn’t look for his soulmate the traditional way. and he was constantly terrified that his father would find the supplies he’d started hoarding. it seemed like more risk than reward, and yet. he couldn’t stop himself.

every time he was allowed to wander off in a store alone he’d slip something into his pocket. a tube of lip gloss. a compact full of shiny powders. he wasn’t even sure what some of it was, he just liked the colours. liked the pictures they hung alongside the displays. he wanted to look like that. beautiful.

and in his heart of hearts, he wanted the boy who was out there waiting for him to know he existed. whether they’d be able to find each other or not.

he’s more careful with this than he was with the nail polish. his father works saturday nights, and his mother always visits their neighbour while he’s at work. despite having the house to himself he locks his bedroom door.

the first thing he tries is the watermelon lip gloss. it’s sticky, and the wand doesn’t fit in his hand comfortably, but once he’s smeared it on he feels...good. he likes the way it catches the light. likes the way it smells. he looks at himself in the mirror and likes seeing something different.

the high doesn’t last long, it inevitably gives way to paranoia, anxiety that has him glancing at the locked door every thirty seconds, heart pounding, wondering if just maybe his father will get home from work early, and he jumps at every sound, hearing boots thudding on the porch and car doors slamming and anything that could be neil coming through the door.

cleaning himself up is hard. panic makes his hands shake, his eyes well up. he drops everything on the floor when he tries to tuck the bag away. and he has to spend twenty minutes with his back to his bedroom door getting his breathing under control when he’s finished.

but he does it again the following saturday. and the one after that.

for five months he does this. locks himself away with his stolen treasures and lets himself live a little. it gets easier as time goes on. and his mind wanders sometimes. to a future where he gets to share this with someone. the boy out there who’s supposed to love him one day.

it’s a small bubble of a dream. one he doesn’t spend too much time dwelling on. not when there’s neil’s voice in his head, telling him that no one could love a fucking freak, ‘cause fags don’t get real soulmates anyways.

he wants and he wishes, but the more he thinks about it the more he doubts. he’s never gotten a mark from his soulmate, and even if he did some day, what if his father’s right, and his “soulmate” doesn’t want him or makes him miserable or...worse.

so he does his makeup for himself.

until, like all good things in his life, his father ruins it.

he never found out what set neil off initially, something going wrong at work maybe, or the martial strife of the week getting to him. whatever it was that started it, neil eventually decided billy should bear the brunt of the fallout.

so he went through his things. said billy’d been acting cagey lately, and he was going to find out why.

and then found the makeup bag stuffed into an old sweater in his closet.

it was ugly. the things neil said that day would play on repeat in billy’s head for years afterwards. the scars his belt left on billy’s back were nothing in comparison.

the next saturday came and went. billy spent the evening curled up under a blanket not bothering to wipe away the tears dripping down his face.

by morning he’s resolved to forget the whole thing. to put it behind him. because it was stupid, and risky and childish and maybe his father was right. he’s almost convinced himself. and then he notices ink on his arm, as he reaches up to rub his eyes. messy scrawl, i bet you looked pretty crookedly written up his forearm.

he didn’t think he was able to cry any more, but he manages it.

for the first time his soulmate isn’t just a concept, or a what-if, he’s...a person. he’s a real person out there somewhere. someone who doesn’t even know billy and still wanted to reach out, to offer comfort. it’s more than he’s gotten from anyone else. even his mother. who he knows loves him, and she does her best to protect him, but when she found out about his makeup stash she just looked sad, and she’s said nothing to him about it.

but his soulmate…

can never, ever meet neil.

the thought hits him right in the chest.

whoever he is, he cares, he’s good. and neil breaks good things.

billy falls asleep that night tracing the empty space where his soulmate’s message used to be, wrapped up in worries and dreams, and terrified for someone he’s never met.

the doodles that come and go over the years are terrifying and exhilarating and billy manages to hide every single one from his father. they only ever show up during the day, and they don’t linger. something billy is both grateful for and resentful of.

sometimes he’ll watch other boys’ hands in class. check them for drawings. he thinks he’s being careful, but a girl in his chem class, becca, catches him. she says it’s only because she knew what to look for. they share a cigarette under the bleachers and she tells him about a girl who likes green eyeshadow and writes homework reminders on her wrists using stars instead of bullet points.

it takes billy six months and a couple shots of tequila to tell her about watermelon lip gloss and bet you’re pretty and they both cry when he starts to wonder if his soulmate will be disappointed that he isn’t a girl.

on a rainy april afternoon she asks him to go to a gay bar with her. he tells his father he’s going on a date. she tells her’s that she had to reschedule a tutoring session and it’ll run pretty late.

they wait til it’s dark and get ready in a dingy gas station bathroom. when she’s smearing on her eyeliner she catches sight of his face in the cloudy mirror. he wasn’t going to ask her for anything. he wouldn’t have brought it up. the twinge in his heart and a hollow feeling of longing aren’t anything new, he can deal.

he feels and empty kind of rage every time old, well-meaning relatives give max girly lip gloss kits and eyeshadow pallets and shit normal preteen girls who care about finding their soulmates actually appreciate. she always rolls her eyes and throws them away. susan will fish them out of the trash sometimes, and leave them under the bathroom sink, like if max just sees them there she’ll suddenly give a shit and start using them. like them being there does anything but taunt billy with what he can’t have.

neil watches him like a fucking hawk every time that shit comes into the house. and max doesn’t fucking care. doesn’t notice.

but becca offers.

and.

he’s not about to say no.

he should’ve said no.

it feels good at first, like it used to, it feels like freedom and he likes what he sees when he looks in the mirror, and he kisses a boy for the first time and it isn’t fireworks but it’s something, and he thinks maybe it’s going to be a good night, but then…

neil is waiting on the curb outside becca’s house. they were heading there first, because her parents wouldn’t notice, she said it would be fine, she has makeup remover he can use, he can clean up and head home and everything was supposed to be okay, except. it wasn’t.

it’s the last time he sees becca. neil tells her parents what was actually going on, and she isn’t allowed to visit him in the hospital.

and then six months of rehab, one rushed wedding and a big ugly sold sign later, neil carts them off to hawkins, indi-fucking-ana. as a “family.”

billy was certain this town would be nothing but a prison. it’d be somewhere he’d never find a place to be himself, neil would make sure of that. there wasn’t a single thing to like about this place and its bullshit small town sensibilities. for all the open space it might as well have been stone walls and steel bars.

except.

except...here was a boy with soft eyes and nimble fingers, who gets a little wrinkle between his brows when he concentrates, and is always moving, fidgeting, fiddling with zippers and touching his elbows and looking at him makes billy itch. to touch, to soothe, to take, and…

things get complicated when aimless blue waves scrawl up billy’s arm. when steve follows him out into the parking lot. calls him pretty to his face. and suddenly billy’s eight years old and realizing this shit is real. terrified of what that could mean. spinning fragile dreams like spider’s silk, hard to shake but easy to destroy.

even entertaining the idea of putting on makeup while he’s still in hawkins is stupid and dangerous, but goddamn if he hasn’t risked more for less.

he’s sure he’ll regret it. like he’s regretted every other desperate bid for freedom. but when faced with steve harrington’s smile, he can’t find it in himself to say no.

(edit: pt3 here)

#harringrove ficlet #harringrove #billy hargrove #stranger things #soulmate au #a raven's writing desk #another part is coming #cuuuz #this was getting way too long kdfljgk #i had to split it up cuz the other stuff i wanted to write is. definitely just gonna be a whole nother post to itself lol

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natty-taffy · 2 years

Text

call me by my name [wandanat]

Summary: Wanda, as a student who enjoys drawing, is an admirer of human forms, Ms. Romanoff just happens to be right in front of her.

TW: teacher-student relationship (nothing actually happens tho, Nat's not a pervy teacher)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A small ball of paper hits Wanda on the head, making a subtle pop when it meets the desk. She frowns and looks at the only person who would possibly do that: Pietro.

He looks at her with funny eyes and motions for her to open it, so, hoping for the worst, with a roll of eyes and a huff, she unrolls the crumpled paper.

Are you done making out with Ms. Romanoff in your head?

Now, first of all, Wanda would never do such a thing- she was an immigrant, her parents taught her better than to waste school matters with ephemerous things.

Second of all, she wasn’t daydreaming about kissing her, she was only appreciating her beauty; how could she not? Ms. Romanoff was possibly the prettiest person her eyes had ever met- celebrities included- and as an artist, she couldn't let such a view go to waste.

She scribbled that small insight down on her doodle book before crumpling back the paper and throwing it back at her brother. Asshole.

Okay, fine, maybe she does waste a lot of Ms. Romanoff’s classes just because she was looking at her, but bear with her; she's in the United States, so everything they are being taught now, Pietro and she have already seen it, last year in Sokovia.

That’s why she went back to what she had been doing previously- studying.

Not the subject per se, obviously, just her teacher, for artistic reasons.

Wanda frowned at her draft, something was wrong about her mouth, she just couldn’t understand what. She took quick peeks at Ms. Romanoff’s mouth, returning three or four times to her notebook.

“What is it?” She hissed at herself, now a little frustrated.

“Is there a problem, Ms. Maximoff?” Her teacher called upon her, turning Wanda into something between a tomato and a human being. The woman’s eyebrows were arched as she waited for an answer- God, this woman.

But her teacher's eyes didn’t quite match her stern expression- they rarely, with her, did and Wanda couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, there was always something hidden in them that caused her to never know how to act around the woman.

This time, though, she swore she could see a bit of humor around her quartz eyes, but, again, she could never be sure, not with her.

So all she did was shake her head, never daring to break eye contact and miss the way it bored into her own eyes “I’m sorry, Miss, I was cursing the… book” She ended the phrase meekly, not quite sure if the teacher would buy it.

Surprising her once again, Ms. Romanoff, merely smiled, glancing at her table “If you need anything, that’s why I’m here for”

Wanda hadn’t meant to blush even more with that, but, well, that wasn’t something she could control- and it’s not like anyone could even tell the difference between her blush and deeper blush anyway “Thank you, Miss” she managed to cough it out.

God, she is so pathetic.

As the bell rang, the girl all but shoved her notebook inside the bag as she saw the teacher making a beeline to her desk.

“Miss Maximoff?” Her velvety voice called her, making Wanda’s interior twirl in the prettiest ways, she briefly wondered if a ballerina lived inside of her with how often it happened "I was hoping you could stay back for a little”

If people could scream inside their minds, that's exactly what Wanda was doing, and, apparently, by being her twin, Pietro had the absurd power to listen to it, too, by the smirk he sent her at the class door.

So instead, she quietly nodded, not trusting her voice.

When the last student stepped out of the room, the teacher sat on the table next to Wanda’s, mirroring her posture, looking quizzically at her “Why are you taking this class?”

That was not what Wanda was waiting for, at all- she frowned at her teacher, trying to understand whether it was a genuine or simply rhetorical question “What do you mean?”

“You already know everything I could teach” She said, as if it was obvious “You get bored, could be using your time for something better”

Wanda wondered if her teacher had noticed how much time in the class she usually spent drawing, well... her. Suddenly feeling mortified at the bare thought of being caught, she hurried to dissipate the accusations.

“I do!” Wanda defended herself, realizing, in a panic, how it sounded that she was agreeing with Ms. Romanoff “Not that I do get bored- I don’t- but my parents make us take it, the wonders of STEM, you know? So I figured I could do something useful with the time”

“Are you calling my class useless, Wanda?” The teacher asked and the girl’s face fell again, already picking up the pace to another batch of apologies.

“No! God, no, I'm-”

“I was joking, ребенок” Ms. Romanoff eased her with her loop-sided, signature smile “I was just wondering why, that's all”

“I- huh?” At this point, Wanda just hoped she could get the hell out of there as fast as possible, she didn't think she would survive hearing her speak Russian.

“I’m Russian” Ms. Romanoff shrugged, as if it was of any explanation.

But it did make Wanda feel a little bit smug, as if it was a secret that they both shared in common- Russian and Sokovian sounded almost the same, it felt like their own secret language.

Not that her teacher needed to know that.

“Oh- right, yeah- I mean, Romanoff” Wanda answered, trying to say anything to keep the conversation going.

“Yes” She smiled- smiled- at her and paused, musing her head “It sounds good when you say it-”.

Wanda didn't want to pay attention to the thoughts flashing through her mind- they were just having a civil conversation, after all- but they were only feeble attempts, as her teacher sent her the most breathtaking smirk and low, hooded eyes that one could ever muster- don't blame her, she was a hormonal teenager.

“It doesn’t get lost in the american way” Came the, maybe a bit late, conclusion from the woman.

Oh, she actually was just talking about their shared roots.

“Oh- yeah, I suppose” Wanda hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as her entire face felt. See? She should have left when she could.

But well, since Wanda had already reached such point of embarrassment, she just needed to take one step forward.

“How would you pronounce my name, then?” And added, hurriedly “In a non-American way, that is”

Ms. Romanoff chuckled and nodded her head lightly, as in who sees it as a fair question.

“I say it like Wan-da ” She made a show of sliding her tongue against her mouth, popping the last syllable.

A grunt almost escaped Wanda's throat, who thankfully captured it back together. Her voice and her accent made everything sound borderline pornographic and she almost felt bad for asking that question.

My God, she prayed, allow me to leave this room alive.

“It sounds good when you say it” Wanda dared to repeat her, albeit a little breathy, earning a warm laugh from her teacher, who slowly stood up, causing the girl to, very slowly, do the same.

“You should get going, I don’t want to hold you from re-learning whatever class you’ve got now”

Wanda only then realized how different this entire conversation was from the way her teacher would behave in class.

Her voice had a slight lack of harshness on it, almost like she now spoke into a plume, which then, flew to Wanda’s ears- it was a dismissal, but definitely not one Wanda found herself feeling blue about.

“Yeah, I better be going” She smiled, daring to double-wave a small goodbye, cheeks full on red again.

She was, as literally as anyone could ever be, walking on sunshine, wearing the biggest smile her face could display, even if she tried to tone it down, since she had barely left Ms. Romanoff’s classroom- she just needed to get it together for five more steps?

Then, three steps away, she heard her name being called again- turning her smile down a hundred watts just to not embarrass herself any further than she already had, Wanda turned around ready to face the woman.

But not, in her whole eighteen years, ready to hear what she said;

“My mouth is a little narrower, next class try curling the edges a bit more”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rebenok (ребенок): child, kid

#wandanat #natasha romanoff #wanda x natasha #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x black widow #scarletwidow #pietro maximoff #teacher student #mcu fic #marvel mcu

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sunder-soul · 3 years

Note

first of all your work is AMAZING- like damn that smut? 👀 but anyway- i’ve had this concept for awhile imagine that reader was the one who made the design for the dark mark for tom riddle? like y/n is an artist and likes to draw, paint, all that jazz, and she saw the symbol in like her dreams or something and decided to draw it. and then tommy boy sees it and takes a liking to it like, “...i could use that-“ i don’t if this is a weird ask or not but i thought it was interesting. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

So this has been in my inbox for so long bc I just couldn’t crack how I wanted to tackle it and then yesterday BOOM I had an idea so here I am!! Hope you enjoy 💖

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Consume

Summary: Reader looks into Tom Riddle’s tea leaves on an unlucky day in Divination. Something looks back.

Word count: 1.5k

Content warning: none.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You’ve heard of the domino effect before, but never has it been so grimly demonstrated to you than in that exact moment standing in front of the entire Divination classroom with the only spare seat left opposite Tom bloody Riddle.

It started (or at least, as far as you can tell) an entire week earlier when you’d walked in on Ophelia Greengrass sobbing in the fourth-floor girl’s bathroom during second period. Up until then you’d not spoken more than half a dozen words to Ophelia across your entire time at Hogwarts, but it had felt wrong not to say anything – and as it turned out, Ophelia had been in dire need of someone saying something to her. She’d been dating Lestrange for a little over three months and by the sounds of it things were not going well.

So of course you’d comforted her as best you could but it was hardly surprising when she tentatively approached again you the next day, and the next, and the next, and then every single day for an entire week there had been a new horror story until yesterday you’d finally had enough and told her that she should break up with him.

That, of course, was why he’d confronted you in the corridor that morning on the way to Charms, angrily accusing you of losing him his girlfriend. And that was why you and Lestrange had been caught by Peeves with a watering can full of Bulbadox juice brandished gleefully in his spindly hands.

Which was how you both ended up in the hospital wing for the entirety of first period, Lestrange with boils all over his face and down his back, and you with them on your hands from where you’d managed to shield yourself.

You’d left Lestrange behind complaining loudly as the matron peeled back his school shirt, sprinting all the way up to the Divination tower at breakneck speed, throwing the trapdoor to the classroom open and scrambling inside, the trapdoor falling shut behind you, the very final domino.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” you gasp as you spin around to face her. “Peeves caught me and Lestrange!”

The class snickers.

“That’s quite alright, quite alright…” Cassandra Trelawney says, deep and ringing, “we have not yet started, take a seat with Mr Riddle and we shall begin…”

You freeze. Riddle…?

That’s when it hits you.

Lestrange always sat with Riddle in Divination.

And you’re so late that everyone else already has partners.

You turn to see Tom Riddle sitting at the back of the room looking at you with a polite but blank expression on his face. The class giggles again. The vast majority of Hogwarts students are at least somewhat in love with Riddle – beautiful, intelligent, polite Riddle, orphaned and poor but refined and successful. Better yet he barely speaks to anyone, leaving a lot of empty space of endless possibility for people to fill in with their personal daydreams.

He scares you.

Those horrible boys that hang around him remind you of flies hanging around rotting meat. And if they’re the flies, that makes Riddle…

You grit your teeth and step forward, weaving between the other tables and snickering students to take your seat, dropping your bag to the floor and eyeing the tea set on the small table apprehensively.

“Begin your readings!” Trelawney calls.

You frown and turn to Riddle questioningly. “We’re doing tea leaves?”

“Tasseography,” he corrects smoothly, leaning forward and picking up the burnished copper pot with one hand and pouring steaming tea into the little china cup in front of him.

You blink at him silently. There’s something manufactured about his face that you can’t put your finger on.

“Shall I go first or would you like to?” Riddle asks casually, pouring you a cup, too.

“I don’t mind,” you mumble, looking away.

Riddle sets the pot down and picks up his cup in long, elegant fingers, lifting it to his lips. “The instructions are on page seventy-nine,” he says after taking a sip, looking around the room disinterestedly.

You pull out your book and find the right chapter and scan the first few paragraphs as Riddle finishes his tea, sipping absently at your own, and by the time he finally hands you his cup your heart rate has finally returned to normal from running up eight flights of stairs.

“You have a scattered-type formation,” you say, checking it against the diagram on your page, “and it’s north-west oriented.”

“Mhmm,” Riddle says noncommittedly, his dark eyes level on the parchment before him as he takes notes.

You lean forward over Riddle’s cup and frown as you compare it to the pictures in the book. “That looks like shepherd’s crook,” you say, pointing to a cluster shaped like a pinched hook, “which means… either the responsibility to protect, or the exertion of power and authority over a group of people.”

Riddle scoffs very lightly, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he continues to write.

Something about it had clearly struck a chord with him, but you pointedly train your eyes back on your book. “Oh,” you frown, checking his cup again. “Or it’s the old glyph for seven.”

Riddle stops writing. You look up curiously at the sudden lack of his quill scratching evenly on his parchment to find him perfectly still, his eyes on your face. “Seven?” he repeats, tone distinct.

You nod and push your book around to show him. “The number seven used to be drawn like that, too.”

Riddle’s eyes drop to the page and linger there for a moment before he resumes taking his notes – though his expression is much more preoccupied than before.

But something in Riddle’s cup has caught your eye. Beside the shepherd’s crook/number seven is a lump of tea leaves so distinct in form that it’s almost comical – the round of the cranium, the square of a mandible, and gaps in the leaves to indicate two eye sockets.

“Oh,” you say in surprise, pulling your book back around. “Wow, that’s pretty clearly a…”

You trail off, frowning. You’ve noticed the tea leaves below it, the long twisting trail that leads directly into the skull’s mouth. A cold, creeping feeling is curling in your stomach as something about the image before you seems to move, you can almost see the thing writhing, it almost looks like a…

“How are we going?” Trelawney asks, suddenly right beside you.

You jump, looking up at her in panic. “Fine,” you say quickly.

She lifts her brows, assessing you thoughtfully. “Hmm,” she says, before glancing at Riddle. “And you?”

“Fine,” Riddle echoes smoothly. But he’s not looking at Trelawney.

He’s looking at you.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The image worms into your thoughts like a deep root, twisting into places you don’t expect to find it and spreading itself out more and more. The dreams are first, and then the nightmares, and finally the night terrors. The skull hovers before you, its pitch, hollow eyes bore into you, the snake coiling endlessly with its fangs yawning wide.

Something about it is cold and evil, some sort of strange perversion of an ouroboros, the eternal snake broken by the skull’s mouth.

Consuming it.

“What is that?”

Your head snaps up from your parchment feeling like you’ve just been jolted awake from a deep sleep, and it takes you a second to process the sight of Tom Riddle before you, his eyes fixed attentively on the parchment strewn on top of the essay you’re supposed to be writing.

He’d caught you drawing it for the hundredth time.

“Nothing,” you say hastily, sliding it away under a book. “Just a doodle.”

Riddle’s eyes flick to yours. There’s a cold rigidity to his expression that you don’t like. It’s a coldness that feels horribly familiar.

For a moment you almost think he’s going to force you to show him, but after a long moment Riddle looks away and he’s gone, disappearing off further into the library. You exhale in relief and pull out the parchment again.

Drawing it made the thoughts go away for a bit, like manifesting the horrible thing distracted it from its need to live in your head. You lift your quill and carefully write a single word next to the skull.

Consume.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The parchment goes missing the next day.

You never prove that he took it, never even mention it to him, but Riddle’s eyes have a cold glimmer to them when he catches your eye in Divination next, the smallest curl to his lips like he’s daring you to bring it up.

The dreams abruptly stop.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

When you see it next, it’s in a photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet beneath a terrified headline, a spectre hovering just like it had in your nightmares at school years prior. Except this time it’s real. This time it’s above the burning remains of the family home of a prominent Muggle-born politician and Voldemort’s name is a shadow on everyone’s lips.

You stare at it on the page, the snake writhing in ink, the black, hollow eyes of the skull, and you think about Tom Riddle’s cold smile watching you from across the classroom, his manufactured beauty, the boys that hung around him like flies around rotten meat.

He’s named it the Dark Mark.

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littlemissnoname13 · 3 years

Text

Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!reader) - Part 5

Summary: y/n and Draco find themselves drawn to an abandoned classroom every night

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader ft. Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini

Warnings: Excessive smoking, mature language and themes, smut labeled as ⚜️, 18+ content, reader discretion is advised, also Draco is kinda soft in this one. Just sayin.

A/n: Ik this was supposed to be the final part but I wanted to wrap things up properly. The last part will be dedicated to the ball itself.

A massive thank you to everyone that has read WOS. Your feedback makes me so fkn happy. I love you all sm.

Word count: 3700

Link to Part one, two, three, and four if you haven’t read them already.

My other stories are over here. And you can join my tag list here.

As always, Smoking is injurious to health y’all.

24th December

Home was just the way you’d remembered it.

From the Goldchild Ivy covering the white colored walls and the stepping stones leading all the way to the main entrance to the way your parents kept nagging you about your “future” with Adrian Pucey.

“You still haven’t told me what kind of dress you’d like to wear to the ball.” Your mum reminded you after taking a small sip from her wine glass.

“I don’t know mother.” You sighed,stabbing repeatedly at the sautéed mushroom on your plate. “Can’t I wear something I already own? Like the blue one I wore last year.”

“Well, what is Adrian wearing? May I suggest some colour coordinating?”

“I really don’t know mother.” You coughed.

“Well, why don't you ask him?”

“I can't.” You mumbled dropping your fork on your plate. The loud clanging sound earned you an eyebrow raise from your otherwise quiet father.

“Why not?”

“We broke—we aren’t seeing each other anymore.” You said quietly before quickly standing up and dismissing yourself from the dining table before your parents could ask you a thousand questions.

As you walked away from the table and towards the balcony, you could still hear your parents calling after you while simultaneously speculating about just what you may have done to scare Adrian away.

You weren’t going to tell them about Draco because you weren’t even sure what to tell them.

I broke up with Adrian because I’m sleeping with Draco Malfoy.

Yes, the one that is getting engaged soon.

No we’re not together.

I may or may not have developed feelings for him.

Yes, it is inconvenient because I have no idea how he feels.

Did I mention he is getting engaged?

You tugged on the sleeves of your sweater to warm your hands up as you stared up at the surprisingly clear night sky splattered with only a few clouds and shimmering stars.

You took it upon yourself to start counting the stars to distract yourself from thinking about Draco again.

Unbeknownst to you, Draco was standing on the balcony of his room trying not to think of you too.

The only difference for him was that the sky was a little less cloudy where he lived and he wasn’t going to bother counting stars.

“Happy Christmas Draco.” You whispered to yourself,staring at the shiny emerald ring on your finger.

“Happy Christmas Y/n.” Draco mumbled into the night air as he fidgeted with your amethyst ring.

~~~~~~~~~~

25th December

It was a surprisingly quiet Christmas Morning at the Y/l/n household.

Your parents were still fast asleep when you walked towards the kitchen to fix yourself a cup of coffee.

It was probably because your parents hadn’t quite processed your break up with Adrian and had spent their night discussing it.

Seeing it was Christmas, you decided to put a dash of white chocolate and whipped cream in your cup of caffeinated goodness in order to feel a bit more festive.

You were feeling anything but festive.

There was a kind of dread crushing your insides when you thought about the ball.

You’d have to watch him dance with her and kiss her lips at midnight.

Fuck, you’d have to congratulate him after he slipped a ring onto her perfectly manicured finger.

Just when you were about to take a sip of your drink, you heard a knock on your door.

You frowned and walked towards the door because it was way too early on in the morning for anyone to come over.

When you yanked the door open, you saw him of all people, standing on the other side of the door with his white blond hair messier than usual.

He was wearing one of his rare genuine smiles that showed his pearly whites making you feel wobbly in the knees.

“Draco—What are you doing here?”

“Happy Christmas to you too.” He said with the smile still fixed on his lips. “Tell me y/l/n is this how you greet all of your houseguests?”

“How rude of me.” You muttered to yourself still befuddled as you stepped back to let him in. “Come in, sit down. Cup of tea?”

“I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.” He said as he fidgeted with his blazer pocket. “Just came to drop off something—ugh hold this.”

He placed a pack of cigarettes in the palm of your hand before fumbling with his pocket again.

“Ahh. There we go.” He retrieved a lilac colored box from his pocket and brought it back to its normal size before handing it to you.

“What’s this?”

“What does it look like y/n?”

“But—But I haven't even gotten you anythi—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, tenderly pressing lips against yours.

The softness of his lips made the heaviness you were feeling on your shoulders fade away as you faded into him—only him and the way he held you firmly around the waist as he suckled on your bottom lip.

“Thank you.” You whispered burying your face into his chest, trying to inhale a scent of his cologne. “Thank you.”

When Draco left, you ran up to your room and opened the lilac box to find a blush coloured slip dress folded neatly with a note on top of it written in his neat handwriting.

~~~~

Dear Y/n

I really am sorry about what happened to your old silk dress but I just couldn’t help myself.

I hope you’ll understand.

I also hope I get to see you wear this one someday.

Yours,

D.L.M

~~~~~~~~~~~

26 December

The day after Christmas, the boys decided to do a little cleanup.

Quidditch and house memorabilia, novelty artefacts they no longer cared enough for and items of emotional value.

The boys wanted a fresh start.

A clean break.

A clean slate.

Theo and Blaise were done with their cleaning so they were now at the Manor helping Draco who was surprisingly not very convinced about the whole “fresh start” ordeal.

“Remember this?” Theo chuckled, clearing out all the books that covered Draco’s desk and using his wand to cast a quick spell that revealed carvings they’d made the summer before their second year.

“Oh?” Blaise gleefully raised his eyebrows walking towards Theo. “I’d forgotten about this.”

Draco rolled his eyes and followed Blaise and the three boys stood around the table reading out everything they’d managed to carve out.

There were some very unholy words, tally sticks and unfortunate looking doodles of Harry on the table.

“Theodore Nott was here.” Draco read out loud looking unimpressed.

“Read this one.” Theo chuckled pointing at a carving. “Daphne Greengrass + Blaise Zabini.”

“Hey! We were barely second years.” Blaise protested while his eyes kept scanning the table.

As Blaise’s vigilant eyes trailed to the farthest corner of the table, a wicked grin started to form across his cheeks making Draco’s face turn pale.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Blaise read out loud smirking at Draco. “Well well Malfoy—From the second year?...Interesting.”

“It was always obvious even though he expressed himself in questionable ways.” Theo shrugged.

“What was obvious?” Draco quirked an eyebrow with a scowl on his face.

“The fact that you were and are absolutely enamoured with y/n.” Theo rolled his eyes. “It has always been obvious to everyone but you. Back me up here Zabini.”

Draco crossed his arms and looked at Blaise who just gave him an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry but he’s right mate.”

“I am not enamoured with y/n.”

“If you say so.” Blaise shrugged.

“And what if I were?” Draco spat, clearly irked by the condescending look on Blaise’s face.

“If you are, then I only have one question for you.” Blaise said with carefully selected words.

“And the question is?”

Blaise went quiet for a brief second before looking at Draco, dead set in the eye.

“What is holding you back, Malfoy?”

~~~~~~~~~~

27th December

Draco wondered what life decisions he’d taken to find himself seated at a murky little pub with Astoria reclining against his shoulders—sipping on Butterbeer.

Pansy, Theo and Blaise were taking shots next to him and you were awkwardly seated right across the table next to Adrian fucking Pucey.

What was he doing here anyway? Who even invited him?

Even though he’d overheard you telling Pansy that Adrian was there only because of your parents nagging you, seeing you seated together bothered him nonetheless.

Draco wasn’t even meaning to eavesdrop on your conversation with Adrian but he just couldn’t help but divert all his attention to your sweet voice and the way your lips moved.

You were telling Adrian about the sweet shop next door and Draco’s lips involuntarily twitched and curved upwards when he noticed just how excited you were about sweets.

It was like you softened him—made him vulnerable. And the whole feeling terrified him.

Between smoking his fifth cigarette, occasionally chatting with Astoria and looking at you from the corner of his eye, one rather simple thought encircled Draco’s mind.

Why didn’t he knock Pucey off his broom when he had the chance to?

~~~~~~~~~

28th December

Lightning crashed. Thunder clapped.

Fat drops of rain started to fall on the enormous glass window in Draco’s bedroom.

You placed your finger on the glass as you watched the infinite droplets race all the way to the bottom of the window.

The howling winds brought in the scent of wet grass and sent the dark curtains flying in all different directions.

You took in the smell of fresh rain and sighed sinking blissfully into his embrace.

Lucius and Narcissa were away, preparing for the upcoming ball and Draco had owled you asking to meet.

And so, both of you were now sitting on the windowsill in his room that was much larger than the one in the abandoned classroom.

In fact, it was so spacious that it served as his own personal reading nook—complete with a velvety throw blanket and some cushions.

His hands held open a book and you let yourself get comfortable between his long limbs, still counting raindrops on the window.

“What are you doing?” He asked looking towards you and away from the worn out pages of his book.

“I’m watching the raindrops race each other.” You said with your eyes still fixed on the glass. “infinite little droplets.”

“It's just rain.” He shrugged as his eyes went back to his book. “Quite mundane if you ask me.”

Sure rain was mundane.

But this rain felt different. It sent you into a state of melancholia.

You couldn’t dare to tell him but those infinite droplets resembled the amount of times you’d wanted to tell him that you loved him.

Even though you couldn’t find the courage to tell him, it was like the look in your eyes gave it all away.

It made his features soften as he slowly shifted and got up from the nook to fully open the window.

You shielded yourself as cold drops of rain started to hit your face. “What in the actual fuck?”

“Shut up and follow me.” He said as he climbed out of the window and onto the ledge.

“Are you mental?”

“Just do as I say.” He said helping you onto the ledge.

Both of you laughed hysterically as the rain seeped through your clothes as you sat on the ledge with your bare feet dangling in the air.

One wrong move and both of you could fall to our deaths. But there came an adrenaline rush with the risk of it all.

He pushed away the hair sticking to your face and brought your face close to his before pressing his rain soaked lips to yours.

Theo was right.

He was fucking enamoured.

~~~~~~⚜️~~~~~~~~

After coming back inside, you walked into his ensuite to fix your ruined hair and cast a quick drying charm to your clothes before heading home.

You had barely managed to pick at the tangles in your wet hair when an equally soaked Draco walked up behind you—clothes sticking to his toned body and hair sticking to his face.

“Draco. Sorry for hogging the mirror. I thought I’d be done sooner but these tangles are—hmmm.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind you and pressed his cold lips against the base of your neck.

Even though your hair was entangled and unruly, you looked bewitching to him.

Especially the way the thin and drenched fabric of your seafoam colored dress draped your body—transparent and accentuating all your curves.

He just couldn’t help himself from unzipping your dress while he admired the sight of your dress slowly leaving your body in the mirror in front of you both.

“Draco?” You whispered as you watched his lips move their way from your neck to your shoulders. His hands gently gripping and massaging your breasts.

“Yes?” He whispered into your hair as he began nipping on your earlobe—his hands never leaving your breasts.

You wanted to tell him that you were in love with him but the words just refused to leave your lips.

“I—I missed you so much.” You said instead as you watched the corners of his mouth twitch.

He didn’t say a word back.

Hips lips were too occupied with sucking love bites against your skin.

He didn’t need to tell you that he missed you too. The deep reddish purple markings on your body said it all.

Draco intertwined his fingers around yours and placed your palms flat against the marble basin in front of you.

Your dainty fingers brought out the verdant tones of the emerald ring and Draco couldn’t help but admire his family heirloom on you.

He slowly moved his hands up your arms and let them brush against your bare back—trailing lower and lower till he was barely touching your soaking wet cunt.

“You like it when I touch you here?” He murmured pushing one of his fingers inside for a fleeting second.

“Hmmm.” You moaned gripping tightly onto the basin and pushing your hips backwards to get more.

Draco brought his hand to your arse and struck once causing you to hiss through your teeth.

“Words darling—use your words.”

“Yes….” You whimpered, opening your eyes to stare into the reflection again. There was a kind of unrestrained hunger in his eyes that only made you want him more.

“Good girl...so fucking perfect..so beautiful.”

He reached out and wrapped his left hand around your throat and brought your face close to him while the pad of his right thumb rubbed steady circles on your throbbing clit.

He loved that you were always so wet and ready for him.

“Draco..I want you inside me..Please..”

He could have spent hours on end just teasing you with his fingers and tongue if he could. There was just something about you that just made him want to take his time to worship you—to ruin you.

But time was not on his side and the reflection in front of him was making him increasingly impatient so he did not tease you any further. He simply unbuckled his trousers and pushed his cock where it belonged.

“Fuck...yes Draco..”

A whimper let your lips at the sudden push and your knuckles turned pale as you gripped tightly onto the marble basin.

“Look at you…” He murmured against your shoulder as he stared ahead into the mirror—his cock pounding in and out of you. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.”

He let go of your throat and used his hands to hold your hips firmly in place as he fucked you mercilessly.

Every time you two had fucked before this, Draco had constantly reminded himself to be a little gentle with you—but today, he wanted to wreck you.

He wanted you to scream his name in a bittersweet mix of pure pleasure and pain as he fucked you relentlessly.

“More...Draco...oh..fuck…yes.”

Beads of tears started to slip out of your eyes and you started to squirm—clenching him inside of you as your started to feel your orgasm approach.

“Don’t.” He growled digging his nails into the flesh at your hips. “Don’t fucking come just yet.”

You winced when he slipped himself out before carrying you back to his room where he sat down at the edge of the bed—positioning you on his lap with your legs on either side as he slipped back into you.

Draco let you adjust to the new position for a few seconds as you gripped his shoulders as you moved your hips, slowly riding his cock.

“My perfect little slut.” He sighed cupping your face in his hands as you continued to move against him.

After letting you ride him for a little longer, he gripped your hips and started to pound into you making your tits bounce up and down.

“Feels so good Draco—feels so fucking good. Oh god yes.”

With one hand on your arse and his mouth attached to your nipple Draco kept thrusting into you till the room was filled with the sound of your screams mixed with the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the sound rain splattering against the window glass.

“Fuck y/n...your cunt is so perfect, you take me so fucking good..god.”

“Harder…”

“So good when you clench me in like that... fuck y/n..I need to fucking fill you up…”

“Draco please..don’t fucking stop...oh..I’m so close..”

You always submitted to him so easily, he enjoyed the control he had over you.

But your sweet moans, the way your lips moved when you sighed his name was enough to make him weak for you.

You were completely oblivious to the power you held over him.

He loved you.

And he wanted to say the words out loud over and over again.

“I love—I love being inside you..I have missed you so much” He said instead.

“Draco I’m—I’m fucking cumming.” You whined as he continued to move his hips.

“Let go. Fucking cum y/n. Cum with me.”

You let your head fall against his shoulders and dug your nails into his biceps as you succumbed to your orgasm.

He soon followed, painting your walls with his release as he murmured sweet nothings into your skin.

You held each other close as you both recovered from your highs and and when he eventually fell asleep you whispered into his ear.

I’ll be thinking of you too Malfoy.

~~~~~~~~~

29th December

Once glimpse of the calendar and all the feelings you had shoved into a deep dark part of your mind trickled out in the form of tears.

Silent tears.

The kind of tears you cry when the silence of the night gets unbearable.

The kind where you suppress the sound of your wail and hopelessly try and mute any kind of sniffle by pressing your face hard into the pillow because you don’t want to wake anyone up.

Silent tears are the most painful of tears when mixed with the sound of the clock ticking.

For some bizarre reason, every second gets more prolonged than the other.

You had tried to hold it together for days. You tried to pretend like Draco’s engagement didn’t bother you.

But it did.

You turned your head on your very damp pillow and eyed the pack of smokes on your night stand. Draco had left when he came to drop off your present.

On an impulse, You stepped out of your bed as your trembling fingers reached for the 25 pack of expensive looking cigarettes.

The second you opened the box, the slight scent of nicotine wafted up your nose and you slowly placed a cigarette at the corner of your chapped and dry lips and lit it up.

Like always, you coughed and wheezed the second you inhaled.

You hated how it felt.

But you loved how close you suddenly felt to Draco.

In a twisted kind of way, It felt like you were submerged in his presence again.

Your lips tasted like they had been kissed by him again.

The more you inhaled the better it felt.

In a fucked up kind of way, The word felt right again.

And slowly, the night faded into morning as one cigarette turned into another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

30th December

Pansy had flooed to your hour the minute she received a letter last night in your drunken handwriting talking about how amazing cigarettes were and how pretty Astoria was.

With a mug filled to the brim with tea in between her hands, she rested her back against the armchair in your room, tilting her head to get a better look at you.

Your face was pressed sideways against the pillow and she could tell you’d been crying by the dried mascara stains on your cheeks.

A half smoked cigarette was pressed into the makeshift ashtray that you’d made out of your bedside table making Pansy wonder if she’d ever seen you this miserable.

Your duvet was barely covering your shoulders and just as Pansy was standing up to pull them up, your bedroom door creaked open.

“I just wanted to drop something off.” Draco mumbled almost like he was talking to himself as he took a step into the room—hand in his blazer pocket.

Pansy didn't say a word as she watched Draco with her eyes narrowed. She observantly watched him pull out a tiny box from his pocket and mumble a spell to restore it to its original size.

“What are those?”

“Assorted sweets.” He said softly, with his gaze not leaving your sleeping form once. “She wouldn’t stop talking about exploding bonbons the other night at the pub.”

Pansy heaved out a sigh as she watched Draco place the box of sweets on your bedside table before reaching to gently push away your hair from your face.

“Don’t get me wrong Draco, but you really shouldn’t be here right now.”

His weary eyes flickered as he turned to look questioningly at Pansy—retreating his hand from your face.

“You are getting engaged tomorrow—look at her, look at the state she is in. She won’t say it out loud but It’s clearly killing her.”

As much as Draco hated agreeing with Pansy, she was right.

Even while asleep, you looked worn out and restless with your eyebrows scrunched up indicating tension.

He wasn’t even going to get himself started on the cigarettes and wine bottles on your night stand.

“Will you let her know that I came by?” He looked half expectantly at Pansy who gave him an apologetic smile in return. “Never mind I guess.”

As Draco reluctantly backed away from you, Blaise’s words lingered in his mind.

What is holding you back Malfoy?

(To be continued...)

~~~~~~

Part 6: Final Chapter Preview:

The Malfoy Manor was being decorated and every little detail of the decor screamed nothing but aristocratic, pristine, perfect.

It was like everything was just a futile attempt to conceal the dullness, loneliness and the fucked up pure blood traditions hiding deep within the manor walls.

Much like his so-called arrangement with Astoria that seemed so perfect on paper.

Pure blood families, rich family history, old money.

What could go wrong right?..

~~~~~~~~~~~~

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