#chisel scribbles

[alexchiselart]

The Dragon waits...

[pinnithin]

adds another young man with religious trauma to my pile of ttrpg characters

[georgeclarkeys]

blue eyed bet - george clarkey x reader

summary: you met a gorgeous blue eyed man at the club, whom you eventually grow to love. things take a turn when to come to understand the terms of your initial interaction. - 1.4k words

this is the first time i have ever written angst in my LIFE. i hope it doesn't suck hahaha. i might write part two of this idk

hope y'all don't hate it!

-

The thumping bass and pulsing lights of the club were giving you a headache. It was your friend's birthday, so you agreed to go out for the night, but you quickly began to regret your decision. The soles of your shoes were sticking to the floor as you leaned onto the cool counter in front of you. You had been standing there for several minutes, and had yet to catch the attention of any of the bustling bartenders. Sighing in defeat, you turned around and placed your elbows on the bar, taking in your surroundings. 

Nothing looked out of place for a rowdy pub on a Saturday night. There were couples pressed into dark corners, drunk girls singing horribly off key, and plenty of rambunctious groups of men downing pints in quick succession. Your gaze lingered on a group of friends in the corner. They seemed significantly less boisterous, but you could tell they were still having fun. The one in the middle looked like the kind of man that love stories were written about. 

You tilted your head to the side and studied him quietly from across the room. His features were chiseled, but paired with an unexplainable softness that made your head spin. His curly hair was cut into a mullet, and the scar on his eyebrow intrigued you. He glowed with an attractive sense of confidence, and you took note of the way his eyes lit up as he looked at his friends. Then, there was his smile. You felt your heart skip a beat when he laughed, and you swore the whole room lit up. His smile was so unbelievably charming, and you suddenly found yourself wanting to be the reason for it. You were lost in your thoughts when a pair of breathtakingly blue eyes met yours.

Shit you thought. He caught you staring. You averted your eyes without a second thought, and decided it was time to make your exit. After weaving your way back to the table that your friends had claimed, you said a few quick goodbyes and made a break for the door. 

It was quiet outside, the bumping beat reduced to a dull thud, and you felt like you could breathe for the first time in hours. You had only made it a few steps down the damp pavement when you heard a voice behind you. 

“Hey!” The voice called, drawing your attention. Please don’t be a creep you thought I don’t have the energy to deal with that. You gripped your purse tighter, and flicked your hair over your shoulder as you turned towards the commotion. 

Your nervous eyes met those beautiful blue eyes for the second time.

“Are you heading out?” The gorgeous mystery man asked. “I was just inside working up the courage to come speak to you.”

You blinked your eyes, feeling the blush reach your cheeks. You were thankful that they were already flushed from the alcohol. 

“That’s funny,” you retorted, “I was running away because you caught me staring.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, “Well if you want to run, I won’t try to stop you.” He paused for a beat, “but I would prefer if you left me with your number.”

Your mouth twitched, almost a smile, “I think we could work something out.”

You dug in your purse for a pen, grabbed his hand, and scribbled your number onto the top of it.

“Call me,” you suggested, quirking an eyebrow in his direction. 

He returned your alluring gaze, offering you a wink as you turned around and continued down the street.

When you turned the corner you glanced behind you to find him watching you walk away, and you realized you never got his name. 

-

His name was George, at least that’s what the first text he sent you implied. He asked you out to dinner, and you were happy to join him on what would become the first of many dates. He was perfect; charming, funny, and thoughtful. The love that had bloomed between the two of you was undeniable. Now, it had been nearly seven months since that fateful encounter outside the club, and you and George were only growing more in love. 

The couch at Casa Clarke-Dixon-Hill was beginning to form a you sized dent in the cushion. You loved spending time getting to know George’s friends, who you learned were with him at the club that night. 

It was just past midnight on a Friday, and you were occupying your spot on the couch. George had wrapped an arm around your shoulder, allowing you to snuggle into his side comfortably. Chris and Arthur were scattered around the room as well, and all four of you were somewhere between buzzed and tipsy. 

“No, mate, I promise!” Chris laughed out, “I was not into that girl at all.”

“Whatever,” Arthur argued, “I could see you giving her heart eyes from five people over.”

You turned to George, who looked amused at his friends bickering, and muttered, “what are you doing tomorrow?” 

His eyes cut down to meet yours, “well you mentioned that new Café down the street. Since you’re staying here tonight we could go in the morning?”

Your face lit up, “oh, that sounds lovely.”

George pressed his lips to your temple, “well let’s plan on that then.”

The two of you were so caught up in each other, you failed to notice that Chris and Arthur had ceased their bickering and turned their attention to you and George.

“Oh my. Isn’t that so sweet, Christopher. I feel a tear coming.” Arthur teased, fanning his eyes.

Chris chuckled at his roommate, before turning thoughtful. “It’s crazy to think that all of this,” he waved his hand towards the couch, “happened because I bet George twenty pounds he couldn’t get her number.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach.

George immediately stiffened next to you, but no words touched his lips. You pulled out of his grasp, and he let you.

Chris’s laughter died down when he noticed the shock on your face. His eyes jumped back and forth between your stunned face and George’s panic filled eyes. 

Chris exchanged an alarmed look with Arthur as you turned and spoke directly to George, “What did he just say?”

George refused to meet your eyes, keeping his head straight forward. His mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. It appeared he was at a loss for words. 

You glanced across the room, taking in the wide eyes of both Chris and Arthur. Neither of them daring to break the silence. An ache settled into your chest as you returned your gaze to George. 

“George?” You felt the ache in your chest growing deeper with each second that passed in silence. 

His eyes were glued to the floor. 

“Is that true? That’s why you followed me out into the street?” You questioned him, brows furrowed in distress.

His beautiful blue eyes, full of regret, met yours for the first time since Chris revealed his secret. “Yes.”

The tears were sliding down your face before you could stop them. George reached out towards you, but you moved away quickly. Your breathing quickened, you needed to get out of there. You needed to be anywhere else but where you were. You needed to escape the watchful eyes of your lying boyfriend and his flatmates. 

You stood quickly and grabbed your bag off the ground. Chris and Arthur watched in horror as you hurried towards the door. You heard George call your name, but you did not stop until your hand was wrapped around the door handle. Grounding yourself of the cold metal of the handle, you turned and leveled your teary eyes on your boyfriend. He was standing several steps away, looking absolutely defeated. 

“Please-” he started, his voice trembling.

“No.” You cut him off. “Don’t call me, George.”

With those final words you pulled the door open, forcing yourself out without a backwards glance, and slammed it behind you.

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

OMGG I FUCKING LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE KATSUKI. DEAR GOD.

I'd love to request a katsuki x shy artsy reader. Reader loves to admire kats when he's not looking, scribbling away in a notebook, which is filled with pages on pages of messy doodles and detailed sketches of him. She draws him using his quirk, she draws him in his suit... eyebrow raisingly detailed, and most of all, she studies his headshots. She captures his various expressions to the T, and sometimes writes little notes on him anywhere in the book where she has space

Of course, bakugo notices how she's always got that chunky damned notebook on her. And the more he catches her drawing away in her own little world in class, the more curious he gets, wanting to know what she could possibly be filling that book with for it to by triple is original thickness. So he confronts her. He's like "yo what're ya drawin' nerd" and she slams that book so hard and fast, immediately getting up to find the restroom it catches him off guard. And now he's suspicious. So he's making it his mission to find out what's inside that book, and if he has to chase her down to get answers then so be it

thank you thank youuuuu!

Thank you so much, means the world to me that you like my writing 🥹🥹

The book of love

If anyone so much as glanced at your notebook, they’d think you were some fan girl obsessed with the up and coming Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. It didn’t start out that way, it first started with stupid caricatures of your class mates and teachers. Kirishima with overly large shark teeth, midoriya with big bubbling watering eyes, everyone on a leash as mr aizawa held us all like feral children, hair a mess looking like a distraught single mother. Until you started to do more and more of Katsuki. He was easy to over exaggerate, big angry eyes, large explosions with him maniacally laughing in the background, a child holding an ice cream, him screaming at them for dripping it on his shoe, then the top of the ice cream falling on the floor with the child crying and him pointing, laughing at them.

Youd usually draw the pictures, rip them out and slip them to the person, making them smile and laugh at their over exaggerations, hell even mr aizawa kept his taped to the whiteboard so everyone could see how pained they made him, even in his little exhausted Chibi state. But you NEVER showed Katsuki his. He’d just burn them up, why waste the paper? Youd show them to midoriya and kirishima, warranting laughs at his eyes, his overly sharp hair, his complete lack of spatial awareness and how he clearly didnt know how to comfort kids around him. It started small, it started innocent, until Mina asked if you could draw a detailed picture of her looking badass. You spent three days drawing her in her acidman suit, glistening in the sun, donning a super cool super hero pose. She lapped it up, she stuck it to her desk and used it as some kind of inspiration, anytime she felt deflated at her loss or needed a pick me up, she’d stare at the photo, flash a massive grin and her faced will with determination. It didn’t take long before you found yourself drawing katsuki in a similar way.

His chiseled jaw, his burning eyes, the way his suit shirt clung to his abs like it was painted on…you found yourself drawing him more and more, until your notebook was compiled almost completely of him. It looked like a damn worshippers guide to Katsuki Bakugo. Tiny notes written around the headshots youd drawn, little quotes from him, tiny skulls and explosions danced around the detailed graphite scribbles as you suddenly realised he had sat down opposite you. You slammed the book closed as if whoever read it were destined to die. Your breath hitched, your hand pressed heavily on the front of your hook, almost forcing all of your weight ontop of it.

“Whatcha writing nerd? That damn book not finished yet?!” He leaned over the desk towards you, his eyes almost burning the top of your hand as he scowled at it. He reached his hand over wanting to snatch it from you, as you quickly held it to your chest and pushed your chair away from yourself as you stood up.

“Oh, nothing….i mean yeah I just Yano, like to take notes. My adhd ass can’t ever concentrate when Mr Aizawa babbles on…yano what he’s like….” Nervous laughed filled your voice as you started to walk towards the door, “gotta pee so…yeah.. cya!” You ran out of the door faster than he did whenever he chased midoriya after he compliment him, straight to the rest room. As your back leant against the cubicle door, you let out a massive sigh still clutching the book to your chest like a mother cradling their child. After composing yourself, you finally left, only to be greeted abruptly by katsukis chest. He pointed his finger into the book, his eyes staring down at you.

“Why don’t you ever show me those crappy drawings? You’re always giving everyone else shitty cartoons about themselves….why not me? Scared I’ll kill you if it’s bad?” He huffed, clearly unimpressed and slightly hurt that he was the only one in your class that hadn’t received their very own caricature.

“Errr, actually….yes.” You looked up at him, eyes nearly shaking at him being so close to you, terrified he’d let out a blast and ruin your hours of hard work. He tightened his eyes, tilting his head slightly down at you, as he saw you clutch the book closer to your chest.

“Well. I won’t. Just draw me a shitty picture, i dont like being left out. Nerd.” As he pushed you slightly, he started to walk away as you flicked to the front of the book and ripped out a particularly funny drawing. You shoved it into his hand as you ran past him, gunning straight for the classroom again. He stared down at the drawing, it was him sat ontop of everyone as they were pilled underneath him, eyes crosses, tongues sticking out, like he was sat ontop of a thrown of your classmates corpses. Tiny smoke clouds danced around them as midoriya was the last person he was sat ontop of. He let out a tiny chuckle as he shoved it into his pocket, you were surprisingly good at making him out as the king of everyone.

That was the start of his demanding. Everyday, he asked you to draw another.

“Give me wings. Give me sharper teeth. Make me kick midoriya’s ass whilst everyone watches and laughs at him. Make me look like all might, but better. Draw me with a wife and ki….?” His eyes darted to yours as you started scribbling quickly next to him, the woman looking shocking like you….you slammed the book closed and chucked it into your bag.

“Im tired, think my hands cramping now. Sorry dynamite….ill do more tomorrow.” You flashed him a smile as your cheeks began to get rosey, shuffling off to your locker and chucking your bag into it. His eyes narrowed, trying to hide his own embarrassment at the fact he wanted a picture of him with a family.

The next day he slumped to your desk again, his usual smirk plastered over his mouth.

“Draw me riding a dragon.” A simple please would’ve shocked you at this point as you opened your book and flipped to a new page, unfortunately you had forgotten that late last night you had fallen asleep drawing his side profile, wearing his hero costume, with it ripped slightly around his left eye. The open page stared back at the both of you, as your eyes widened and you slammed it shut. The sheer attention to detail on the half finished drawing made every finer in your body shake, you almost visibly started vibrating in your seat as your eyes darted to his, still staring down at where the page had laid.

“Was….that me?” His voice low, quiet, almost a rumble in his chest. You ran off before you could answer, tears welling in your eyes as you darted for the restroom again, the lump in your throat almost suffocating you. Before you could leave, he grabbed your arm and stopped you. With his eyes still looking down, he cleared his throat,

“Have….you, done anymore?” You shook your head no, trying to pry his hand off your bicep, desperately wishing you Mirio’s quirk.

“No no of course not, im not some weirdo…” suddenly he snatched the book from your hands. You lunged towards him, scratching, fighting, doing anything you could to get that book out of his damn hands. He stood up, grabbing you by the collar and held you outstretched like a cat desperately trying to claw away from the bath it so desperately needed. His eyes darted to the drawings you had painstakingly drawn of him, his face, his body, his small smiles and the way the light danced off his crimson eyes. The silence between you two only made your chest heavier, he was witnessing you at your most disgusting, your most vulnerable. You curled your body into yourself as you covered your face with your hands, sobbing into your palms.

“Im sorry kacchan, please don’t think im weird.”

A moment of silence, suddenly broken.

“Do you….really see me like this?” His eyes still fixed to the book, you couldnt read the expression on his face clearly, was he so angry he was suddenly calm? Was he beyond disgusted that he was about to obliterate you to atoms? He slowly lowered you down and clutched the book in his hands.

“Can i…”

“No.” He shoved the book into his bag and stormed off back to the dorms. Your heart sank as you were sure he was going to rip you to shreds, plastering the walls of the school in your drawings, humiliating you infront of everyone. You began to quickly think of different ways you could flee the country, maybe go to English to live with your cousins, maybe even Africa, start fresh.

The next day, you were terrified to go to class. You skulked the halls, searching desperately for any shred of evidence of your drawings on lockers, but nothing. Nothing looked different,no one stared at you and mocked, no one shouted stalker accusations at you as you enter the class room. You sat at your desk and put your head onto it, deeply sighing into it like the whole world now rest on your back, crushing you, when suddenly your book got dropped on the top of your head. You flung up and clung to it, to see Katsuki sitting down at his desk at the back of the class. As you looked at him, he stated straight ahead as if you didn’t exist, lounging back into his chair and putting his feet ontop of his desk. You looked back at your book and studied the note scribbled on the front of it.

‘Look at the back, nerd.’

You flipped to the last page and saw two stick figure drawings, one with bright orange hair in a mess, love eyes instead of usual ones, and then another standing tall with a crown on its head. It was you and him. You couldve drawn better when you were three, but it quickly became the best drawing you had ever seen. Your vision quickly becoming blurred from your tears welling up, you turned to look at him, and still staring forward, he let out a tiny smirk.

Part two out now!

[jubburb]

》 "THE EARL'S SMALLEST NUISANCE."

@jubburb

ask: none.

sypnosis: you and sebastian's son can't help but bother his best friend, ciel, who doesn't quite like the attention from the young 5 year old.

a/n: sighs sighs sighs.. ive been away for quite a while.. heh.. don't worry baby.. papa's got you.. *i snake my hands around your waist and pull you into my chiseled chest.*

warnings: fluff.

notes: none.

Ciel Phantomhive was a patient young man. At least, he liked to think so. He had endured insufferable nobles, incompetent servants, and enemies who schemed against him at every turn.

And yet, nothing tested his patience quite like Sebastian’s five year-old son.

“Uncle Cieeeeel!”

Ciel barely had time to react before a small blur launched itself onto the couch beside him, nearly toppling the stack of paperwork he had been reviewing. The boy, with his wild dark locks and bright, mischievous eyes, grinned up at him with pure excitement.

Ciel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ve told you before, you are not to call me that.”

The child only giggled. “Uncle Cieeel,” he repeated, dragging out the name just to be obnoxious.

Ciel shot a glare at Sebastian, who stood nearby with his usual smug smirk. “Must he always be here?”

Sebastian, as composed as ever, placed a gloved hand over his chest in mock innocence. “Why, my lord, are you suggesting I forbid my son from spending time with you? That would be most cruel.”

Ciel scowled. “That is exactly what I’m suggesting.”

The little boy, completely unfazed by the growing tension, began poking Ciel’s cheek with his small finger. “Boop.”

Ciel twitched. “Stop that.”

“Boop.”

“I said stop.”

“Boooop.”

Sebastian covered his mouth with a gloved hand, clearly amused.

Ciel swatted the tiny hand away. “Shouldn’t you be bothering your parents?”

The boy huffed. “Mama said she’s busy, and Papa said he has ‘butler things.’” He mimicked Sebastian’s smooth voice almost perfectly. “So I came here instead!”

Ciel groaned, running a hand down his face. “Of course you did.”

Undeterred, the child scooted even closer, leaning his chin on Ciel’s arm. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Work.”

“What kinda work?”

“Paperwork.”

“Why?”

“Because I run a company.”

“Why?”

“Because that is my responsibility.”

“Why?”

Ciel inhaled sharply through his nose, gripping his pen a little too tightly. “Because that is how the world works.”

The boy blinked up at him, considering this for a moment before shrugging. “Sounds boring.”

Ciel groaned again. “It is boring. That’s why I don’t need you distracting me.”

Instead of leaving, the child beamed. “I can help!”

“No, you—”

Before Ciel could stop him, the boy reached forward, grabbed a pen from the desk, and enthusiastically scribbled all over one of the important documents.

Sebastian let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, how helpful indeed.”

Ciel shot him a murderous glare before rounding on the child, who was still gleefully doodling swirls and squiggles across the page. “Do you have any idea what you just ruined?!”

The boy blinked up at him with innocent confusion. “It was ugly, so I fixed it.”

Ciel looked seconds away from screaming. He turned to Sebastian. “Take. Him. Away.”

Sebastian, ever the perfect butler, simply smiled. “But my lord, you are his favorite playmate.”

Ciel let out a strangled noise as the boy climbed onto his lap, now using his arm as a toy. “Uncle Ciel, do you know any cool stories?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeease?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeeeease?”

Ciel clenched his jaw, glaring at Sebastian, who was clearly enjoying his suffering. “Fine,” he bit out. “Once upon a time, there was an annoying little boy who kept bothering an earl. And then... he vanished!”

The child gasped dramatically. “Poof?”

Ciel nodded, crossing his arms. “Yes. Gone. Forever.”

The boy giggled. “That’s silly! People don’t just poof!”

Ciel smirked. “You don’t know that.”

The child gasped again, this time with genuine wonder. “Wait!! Uncle Ciel! Are you magic?!”

Ciel blinked. “What?”

“Can you poof people away?”

Sebastian let out a low chuckle. “An interesting theory.”

The boy scrambled off Ciel’s lap and gasped again, eyes wide with excitement. “You gotta show me! Poof someone away!”

Ciel stared at him, exasperated. “That’s not how it works.”

But the child was already looking around the room. “Hmmm… Maybe.. maybe Baldroy? Or Finny! Or.. hmm.. OH! What about Papa?!”

Sebastian placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “How cruel, my son. You would see me ‘poofed’ away?”

The boy giggled. “Just for a little bit!”

Ciel groaned, rubbing his temples. “Enough. No one is poofing anywhere. Especially not me.”

The child pouted. “Awww.”

Ciel narrowed his eyes at Sebastian. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Sebastian smirked, placing a gloved hand on his son’s shoulder. “Why, my lord, I would never.”

The boy yawned, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sleepy.”

Ciel nearly collapsed with relief. “Finally.”

Sebastian chuckled, lifting his son effortlessly into his arms. “Shall we return to your mother, then?”

The boy snuggled into his father’s shoulder, already half-asleep. “Mmm… Bye-bye Uncle Ciel…”

Ciel scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

But his complaint fell on deaf ears as Sebastian turned toward the door. The butler cast one last glance at Ciel, his smirk widening. “I do believe he enjoys your company, my lord.”

Ciel slumped into his chair, glaring at the ruined paperwork. “That makes one of us.”

As the door closed behind them, Ciel let out a long, exhausted sigh.

Sebastian’s son was, without a doubt, his most annoying problem.

And yet…

Ciel couldn’t help but feel the room was quieter, almost too quiet without the little menace chattering away.

He frowned, shaking off the thought.

No. Absolutely not.

There was no way he was getting used to this.

…Right?

- signed by c

[cattolino]

sweet angel.

pairing: lee felix x f reader. warnings: exhibitionism, skirt kink, fingering (f receiving), thigh grinding, teasing, dirty talks, profanities. genre: established relationship, smut. rating: explicit. word count: 2.7k.

Felix is the pristine epitome of joy. Radiance. A bright spirit.

One time Chan was told to describe Felix in a word on a post-it note for the younger’s birthday party and the dude ended up scribbling ‘the embodiment of warmth of the first light of day when you wake up on a Saturday morning, and the vibrance of the sundown when you walk along the shore until dusk takes over’.

Changbin and Jisung wrote ‘sunshine’.

And Hyunjin calls him ‘angel’ sometimes.

You wouldn’t argue. Because you believe that even the sweetest angel would carry the weight of their own deepest darkest secret.

And it was like a trump card when you accidentally found out the one thing that was able to coax out of another side of your angelic boyfriend you’d never seen before.

Two weeks ago when Felix had let you ride him for the first time, he’d shyly asked you to keep your mini plaid skirt on. The hem of the cotton fabric tickled your thigh every time you tried to sink yourself down onto his length that it had been uncomfortable.

But he’d begged… eyes coated with tears as they stared down at where you rolled your hips, his fingers digging deep into the flesh of your thighs. You’d never heard him growl so deep. And you’d felt his gloved cock inside you twitch uncontrollably.

Oh…

Who would have ever guessed that the sweet angel turned out to be that kinky…

And for some egotistical reason that was your own satisfaction, you wanted to verify your presumption.

“You’re not coming?” Seungmin inquired as you and Jisung strode over from the rented beach house with clean beach towels and a cooler filled with chilled canned drinks in hands.

His brows arched in confusion when he saw you in a white bra top and a pleated flowy mini skirt instead of your swimsuit.

At his side, Felix was peeling off his clothes to initially join the others on the shore. He tossed his shirt and sweats on a beach chair unceremoniously that they ended up falling to the ground.

The light freckles littering across his pale skin and the chiselled abs he always took pride in were exposed to view, whilst his lower half was barely protected by black swim trunks that were providentially too tight around the crotch.

Despite the glory of his frame, you almost laughed when you noticed the burning gaze he sent in your direction.

You perched on one of the beach chairs circling around a picnic table that had warped and bleached in several spots. A canned orange juice securely wrapped around one hand.

Your eyes flitted between Seungmin and the others whose laughter roared as the waves crashed into their bodies. You would’ve been tempted if you were to contemplate longer, but you shrugged, “nope. Not in the mood anymore.”

Seungmin wanted to say something about that but Jisung dashed across the beach still fully clothed, urgently taking part in what seemed to be an attempt at drowning Changbin whose screeches echoing through the air as the rest of the guys were carrying him into the ocean.

Seungmin followed closely behind, leaving you and your boyfriend alone.

You didn’t miss how Felix was practically burning holes into your skirt with a glare so fierce that one would’ve confused it with a look of hatred if they didn’t know better.

“You’re not swimming?” you tilted your head, as if you were genuinely curious.

He tore his gaze away from you, imitating how you shrugged your shoulders just minutes before, “nope. Not in the mood anymore.”

You snorted, earning a chuckle from him.

His fingers carded through his tousled, blonde tresses as he sat down on a chair beside you. He hunched over, grabbing a drink from the cooler on the table. The pad of his thumb twiddled upon the tab of the non-alcoholic canned cocktail before he swigged the refreshing liquid down his throat in a couple gulps.

“You look impressive by the way.” He spoke, twirling the can in his hand as he was blatantly staring you up and down. Gawking was probably more fitting since you knew enough to take notice of a hint of curiosity, adoration and lust all combined in the way his deep brown irises glinted in your direction.

His gaze lingered a little longer at your skirt, and he wasn’t being subtle about it. As though he wanted you to know.

And you surely did know.

Your cheeks bunched up towards the eyes at how wide your smile was at the complement. You leaned over to the armrest of his chair, grinning as you spoke, “you like my new skirt?”

A faint pinkish tint that unfurled across his freckled cheeks spread even wider to his ears. He smiled, “I love your new skirt.”

He tipped up your chin, planting a featherlike kiss on your bottom lip. He glanced down, fingers beginning to fiddle with the soft fabric of your skirt before they trailed down along the exposed skin of your thigh.

“Come sit in my lap.”

As if you couldn’t have seen it coming.

He carelessly put his drink on the sand below his seat as you got up on your feet. The other hand remained settled on your thigh, guiding you to perch down between his legs as he spread them wider.

But you looked down at him with a frown, “not in your lap,” you sighed, putting the word out carefully to emphasize your wish, “on your lap, please?”

Chan was right about the part of Felix being the epitome of ‘...the vibrance of sundown when you walk along the shore until dusk’ because he indeed looked lovely with the radiant glow of the golden sunrays gleaming across his freckled, flushed face. Let alone when his eyes sparkled as he stared up at you like a puppy staring at their favourite treat— as though there wasn’t anything obscene currently going through his filthy little mind.

It was unfair that the universe had granted him such a taintless facade.

His perfectly plump and heart-shaped lips tilted up into a grin of anticipation. His hand gripped your thigh a little tighter, guiding you to plump yourself down on his lap. “Of course. Anything for my baby.”

Anyone expecting this to remain an innocent cuddle session is a hypocrite. Felix never intended to keep it appropriate even when you were both in public, in spite of it being a private beach house, too.

But it was the way his palms clutched tightly at each side of your waist to keep you perfectly still on his lap that you knew he wasn’t at all expecting this— there wasn’t any form-fitting clothing whose current primary role was as a barrier between your bottom and his thighs. His swim trunks were mid thigh-length that he could right away take notice of the absence of underwear beneath your skirt.

His legs tensed. His smile faltered.

Your legs relaxed. Your smile widened.

It wasn’t like you meant to tug yourself away from him anyway, but he had his fingers dug into the flesh of your waist as if to entirely nail your ass into his thighs.

His hand led you to shift backwards, allowing your back to lean flush against his chest and your head to rest on his shoulder all while making your naked ass gently graze against the soft surface of his thigh.

“You cunning little vixen.” His voice went impossibly deeper. Something darker laced in his tone, “you’ve had this all planned out, haven’t you now?”

You giggled. Your palms gripped his arms as you moved your hips painfully slowly in an attempt to grind down on him. “But don’t you like it?”

“You’ve no idea.” His voice was nigh to a growl. You had to do more to pull a deeper, sexier one out of him.

His lips dangerously hovered over the juncture of your neck. One of his hands left your waist, shoving its way underneath the fabric of your skirt and kneading your inner thigh.

“But what’d you do if the boys decided to stay?” His mouth latched onto your neck, the hand under your skirt skimmer higher, careful not to touch where you felt hot (and undoubtedly damp) as you kept on grinding on him, “would you let me watch?”

“Maybe,” you responded through gritted teeth, having to hold back from bucking your hips up to make his fingers touch you. Your dignity wouldn’t let you give in first when the plan was to make him lose his mind for you. Speaking of dignity. “It’s good entertainment.”

A moan slipped past your parted lips when his fingertips suddenly pressed roughly against your clit. You arched your back, riding his thigh more impatient to get more friction. He grunted, “I wouldn’t tolerate that.”

“Oh, I know for certain you wouldn’t ignore me regardless,” you spoke in between ragged breaths as he planted open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck, “not when I wear something you couldn’t resist.”

He huffed, but never said anything about that either. His hand on your waist ushered you to grind faster and his fingers on your clit rubbed circles in a sudden unforgiving pace that your thighs trembled. Fucking finally. “We’ll do this in front of a mirror next time… wanna see you so bad… you’ll look so beautiful grinding on my thighs like this…”

You smiled at his words. This wasn’t the only new cute skirt you’d recently bought for some special occasion. Of course there would be a next time with another brand new cute skirt. There should be a next time.

Nothing in the moment could triumph over what you were feeling. The sun was blossoming bold hues of red and gold across the skies as it was beginning to set below the horizon, representing a majestic reflection along the surface of the blue ocean. Its splendour, and the building pleasure in the pit of your stomach as he stroked his fingers on your clit, you thought of doing something similar next time. Because, fuck, was it nice to be taken care of while you watched the sunset.

He had yet to carry through what his fingers could do but you were already a mess. His thigh was soaked with slick that trickled down out of your entrance as you rode him more eagerly. You needed more to soothe the tingle in your abdomen.

“Fuck, baby, you’re always so good to me.” He grunted, very appreciative of the way you kept on just wetting his thighs.

You smiled dumbly, closing your eyes to fully relish in the pleasure, “I am. I always am.”

He pulled you back closer to his chest as if to completely mould your bodies into one. You squirmed when your naked ass landed on his clothed upper thigh as he was bucking his hips up to meet your pace.

But a whinier moan was coaxed out of your throat when you suddenly felt a protruding bulge dig right between your buttocks, slightly intruding your rim.

You weren’t the only one affected.

Felix sucked the flesh of your neck into his plump lips when his tip nudged against you, his moan muffled against your skin as he became more impatient. The hand on your waist travelled further up to grasp your clothed breast firmly in his palm, before sneakily slipping inside the bra. You gasped, mewled, almost screamed when his thumb and forefinger tugged at your perked, sensitive bud.

Before you could anticipate anything, his middle finger slid past your entrance without a word of waning, pulling a whine out of you so loud that Felix had to briefly look up at the others.

No one seemed to have noticed. But even if they had, he doubted he’d even do anything about it. There was no way he would be willing to stop his finger midway and push you off his lap just because one of them had heard your moan amongst the gentle waves. He could just pretend it was an innocent cuddle session…. Couldn’t he?

That would be fucked up.

Anyway.

He bucked his hips up again to gain more friction for his aching erection. The words coming out of your mouth was but a chain of incoherence. He could only get “please” “more” “Felix” out of it. He was proud.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Sometime amidst thrusting his finger into your entrance, his ring finger came in to assist, stretching your walls wider. You dug your nails into the flesh of his arms at your sides, seeking support as you felt your body slowly melt into the pleasure that was almost too overwhelming to bear.

Your curling toes were sinking deeper into the soft and warm sand, back arched, head thrown back, lips parted. Felix would love to see you through the mirror, what a shame.

His fingers curled inside you, looking for a certain spot that would bring you heaven. You almost jolted, if it wasn’t for his hand on your chest holding you down, when his fingertips ever so slightly prodded at that particular spot inside you. Felix smiled. Grinning, even.

Whines and moans and sighs and almost incomprehensible cries of his name were all combined as he plunged his fingers upwards at a faster pace and kept it directed at that spot.

For a moment there you couldn’t make sense of where you were. Your mind was hazy with utmost bliss, warmth was enveloping the whole of your body like a thick fluffy cloud, and electricity surging through your veins that you couldn’t help but tremble in his hold.

It was when his fingers reached incredibly deeper that the heat in the pit of your stomach suddenly exploded, its blaze proliferating within your body. You cried out his name one last time in a whiny moan as your body was quivering uncontrollably on top of him.

More slick dripping out of your entrance as you tried to grind down on his drenched thigh more. But it wasn’t the only thing that made his swim trunks damp. He, too, was releasing beads of precum as he bit down your shoulder to muffle his moans.

The raging flame in your abdomen slowly dwindled into as small as that of candle light, at the same time as when the golden rays of the spring sun were beginning to slowly dwindle into twilight.

You were sated. And Felix didn’t even have to take his shorts off.

It was completely dark when you let your body rest limp against him. The tide began to rise, and the rhythmic sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore helped you relax. Behind you, Felix was diligently cleaning up his fingers with his tongue whilst occasionally letting out hums of satisfaction.

But it was the sound of Chan’s squeaky giggles, Jisung’s dramatic whines, Minho’s blaring shrieks, and their inaudible chatters that made you jolt up in alarm.

Felix had his palm firmly gripped your waist keeping you still on his lap before you could get up. He pulled one of the beach towels from the table and spread it over your and his lower half.

You’d thought he was being considerate in case you were cold. But you had to grit your teeth to muffle any inappropriate sounds that were about to slip past your lips when he slid the elastic waistband of his swim trunks off his waist, not completely but low enough to release his fully erected length from restraint.

As though to torture you further, he pulled you closer by the waist until his tip nudge your swollen folds.

Inhaling a long sigh to compose yourself, you tried to sit more comfortably so as to appear normal for the others who were approaching. Though you hoped it was dark enough for them to notice nothing more than a mere disgustingly cuddly couple.

You wanted to curse at him. But whose idea was this in the first place anyway?

He kissed your shoulder before latching his mouth onto your neck, precisely at the sweet spot, making the hairs on the back of your neck erect.

“You started it,” he chuckled, half whispering, “you finish it.”

[kannady]

do you remember me too?

pairing: sylus x mc reader

synopsis: love and deepspace was a newfound obsession of yours. you installed the game shortly after sylus was released as a love interest. it'd be safe to say he was the reason you installed the app. however, finals week was approaching and you had to say goodbye to your favourite game. not for long, ofcourse. but you decide to login for the last time to check the new event.

word count: 2k

a/n: hey everyone! honestly im loving this ffc so much! its great to see people liking it, it really encourages me to go on. ive been doing tons research on the game before adding characters and im falling in love all over again 😭. please leave your thoughts, id love to know what you think of the story so far!

check out all chapters here

Chapter Three

Badum! Badum!

Could someone's heart burst from their chest from excitement, ecstasy, and confusion? Because yours was about to. Either your eyes were deceiving you, or you had gone insane. There was no other possible explanation. Your mind bombarded you with relentless questions.

The man before you was Zayne. His freshly trimmed black hair glistened under the clinic lights, framing hazel-green eyes that sparkled like gemstones. His sharp nose and chiseled features completed that signature stoic expression. Had you died and gone to heaven?

You gulped, taking hesitant steps toward him. Even now, you couldn't fully believe you stood in the presence of THE Zayne Li. Who could?

What should you do? You'd already resolved not to ask him to prove his existence—he clearly existed, standing right before you. Nor would you show any confusion. While your family might excuse odd behavior, someone of his caliber would diagnose it as delirium—the last thing you wanted.

He scribbled in a file as you approached. Sensing your presence, he glanced up, meeting your gaze over his glasses. Is this how I die? Your heart skipped several beats as your breath caught. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe entirely. Your chest constricted while your palms grew clammy. Maybe your body was overreacting. Unconsciously, you pressed a hand to your chest, forcing a slow inhale.

"Look who finally decided to show up. Take a seat."

Holy shit. He talks!

You weren't mentally prepared for this. The truth was undeniable now—you were inside Love & Deepspace! How else could this be explained? Your stare remained locked on him. He mirrored his game counterpart perfectly, except he was flesh and blood—his ethereal mannerisms and striking features somehow more breathtaking in reality. How was someone like him just a doctor? Under these circumstances, that seemed the only sane question to ask.

"H-hi, sorry I'm late. Traffic, you know," you chuckled nervously, omitting the real reasons.

"Yes, I know. I also know you staged that whole disbelief act to avoid your fate." He gestured around the office.

"Who can escape the Master of Fate?" you muttered under your breath.

"What was that?" His expression, if possible, grew more impassive. He'd definitely heard something—but how much?

"Nothing!" Play it cool. "So, the appointment..." You gestured for him to proceed, eager to escape this suffocating situation. Just an hour ago, you'd been studying for exams—now you conversed with Zayne. Not something that happens everyday.

"Yes, I was supposed to review your test results from last month." He emphasized "last month." Apparently, you—or whoever you'd replaced—had avoided this appointment for thirty days.

"Oh. Am I okay?"

"(Reader), you should've come weeks ago. These results"—he indicated the scattered papers—"are outdated." His displeasure was evident, though it wasn't your fault. You were just inheriting someone else's consequences.

"We can redo the tests." Your suggestion worked instantly. His stern demeanor shifted to bewilderment. "We will. And this time, I'll ensure we get same-day results so you can't flee." His narrowed eyes felt like drills boring into your skull. What had your predecessor done?

Without warning, he stood and headed for the door. "Follow me."

You practically jogged to keep up with his long strides. "S-slow down, Zayne..."

He halted abruptly, making you collide with his rock-solid back. As your eyes met again, the reality of interacting with Zayne still felt surreal. He stepped aside, holding the door open. "We're here." The Pathology Department sign loomed overhead.

For what felt like hours, you followed him through various tests—exhausting but painless. Why would anyone avoid this? Finally, he asked you to wait while processing results, giving you precious time to process your situation. Zayne was real. You'd touched him, confirming this wasn't a dream. Yet your parents and sister existed here too—non-game characters. Unless...you weren't the protagonist. That would explain the discrepancies. But if Zayne was real, then so was—

Badum. Badum. Badum.

Your heart raced painfully fast, breath hitching. Icy fingers clenched as conflicting emotions brewed within you—ecstasy, terror, bewilderment. You needed to see him. Sylus.

"Your results are ready." Zayne's voice snapped you back. Following him blindly, you crashed into him again when he stopped at his office. "God! What do you eat?" You rubbed your forehead.

"It's not dietary. Spinal rigidity can stem from muscle tension, spasms, poor posture, injuries, trauma, sedentary lifestyle, fibromyalgia, chronic pain syndromes, dehydration, or nutrient deficiencies."

"You do realise you just diagnosed yourself, right? Go see a doctor." The corners of his lips quirked briefly—a fleeting smile. Barely visible, but it was there. You’d always remember you had made him smile.

Seated across from him, he frowned at the reports. "These show drastic changes."

"Well, there's a month's gap."

"Drastic changes," he reiterated.

Shit. Does he know?

"Excellent progress. You've followed my advice." He nodded approvingly. Advice? Whatever—you were safe. As he handed you a discharge form, his stare became uncomfortable.

"Why are you staring?"

"Assessing my patient."

"That's weird."

"It's my job."

"Look over there instead." You pointed randomly, hastily completing the form. Amusingly, he actually kept gazing where directed. Beautiful and literal—just like in-game. If Zayne affected you this much, imagining Sylus might stop your heart.

"All done." You stood to leave.

"Wait." Zayne's voice halted you. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"You seem...different."

That was the understatement of the century. You were an imposter, clueless about your predecessor. Before you could respond, he added, "Your handwriting has improved."

My escape route! "I practiced. Anyway, bye!" You bolted.

Outside, reality sank in. Zayne was real. This world was real. But unasnwered questions remained. Who were you here? What was your life? What did you do? There was no one you could ask without seeming like a lunatic. Defeated, you headed home.

"I'm back!" Your mom appeared instantly. "You actually went? How was it?"

"I went! Zayne said I'm fine—following instructions perfectly."

"Wonderful! With the doctor's approval, you're all set!" Her cryptic joy raised more questions, but you feigned exhaustion, retreating upstairs.

Your room stopped you cold. Gone were your familiar belongings—replaced by game merchandise. Honeybee, Succulent Bunny, Comfy Peanut, Snowy Fox plushies. The bookshelf stunned you further: Types and Classes of Wanderers, Ideal Close-Combat Weapons, 50 Wanderer Confrontation Mistakes, Wanderers: Friends or Foes?

Before you could process this, the door flew open. Your sister leaned against the frame, arms crossed, scrutinizing you with a smug expression on her face. After a prolonged silence, she delivered the chilling verdict:

"You're not really you, are you?"

Once again, lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist and share your thoughts!

tags: @zenbutnotreally, @godoffuckedupcats, @noxus123, @madam8, @agustdxjiminx, @liz9898, @lemonn015, @tearydamsel, @diegojeanne, @alyssac9, @dummiebunny

[bunnyinvanilla]

sleepyfucking sugar daddy!price after a longgg day at the pub pls pls pls

ilysm for this request he’s so burly I wanna hibernate with him, a big brown bear to cuddle you and stretch you open mpfh:((

🍦| warnings: sugar daddy!price, sugar baby fem!reader, age gap! price is in his 40s and reader is 21, basically wanting to sleep while keeping him warm, smutty but delicately as always

always needy for physical love, physical affection and praise, you would always get even needier when tired, overwhelmed by the large amount of love that dared to slip out of your glittery heart like a running faucet — you were so, so open about love and affection, physically and verbally, and when you got back to John’s house, after the busiest and longest day at the bar?

“love youu..” you muttered shyly, words like light and thin bubbles as you snuggled your cheek against his chiseled, hard chest, warmth radiating from his clothes and spreading over your crimson cheeks. “love you s’much”

his hands squeezed the sides of your hips, a silent, firm reminder to stay still. Between the feeling of his thick, veiny shaft buried inside of you, deep and warm, and your tiredness, you wanted to let pearly tears come out, sob and sink deeper into little space.

his shaft was an antagonizing yet comforting presence inside you, large, long and so thick, still hard and unmoving.

he tilted his head down, pressing a kiss on top of your long hair, basking in the scent of vanilla. From this angle, he could still keep his focus on the paperwork he was working on, scribbling down with an expensive looking pen while keeping your waist still against him. “yeah? you love me, sweet girl? I know, daddy loves you too, angel”

you whined softly, snuggling further agains his buff muscles, all harsh, masculine and burly. You just wanted to fall asleep on his lap, your feet hurt after wearing heels all day, your arms were sore from serving drinks left and right. You wanted to cockwarm him after a long, tiring day, but now we’re too tired to even move :(

with an almost impenetrable movement, you bucked your hips, shifting on his lap to get some friction and whimpered — his length somehow dug deep inside of you, you could feel every vein, the tip stretching you out, he was so thick and big :( he’d had to prepare you before you could take every inch, too big for you :(

his hand squeezed again, his mustache and beard still pressed over your head as he somehow didn’t lose composure and kept writing on the papers. “ah-ah, said stay still, doll, keep daddy warm, don’t move”

“but im tired, dd, wanna sleep” you kept your eyes closed, wanting to reach that so longed feeling of ecstasy that would make your body relax even more. How could he still be working after such a long day?

“then go to sleep, princess. Fall asleep against daddy, you worked so much today little one, deserve some rest” the words vibrated through his chest, a low, deep and gruff lullaby — you could hear tiredness in his tone, coarse and drowsy. You were tired, exhausted, could barely talk or move your hips, but you could sleep with the feeling of him inside you and keep him warm and dry while he worked. “when you wake up, you can fuck yourself on daddy until you’re not tired anymore, okay?”

he promised to wake you up later when he finished his paperwork, make you both release the tiredness.

[ghostbeam]

1.3k words Bakugou Katsuki x reader, aged up characters, Bakugou is an art student, a little angsty, he’s kind of a huge asshole in this at some point but he’s kind of just trying to get under reader’s skin, I’m so out of practice in writing him I hope it’s okay, set in the same universe as my charcoal artist!Dabi and oil painter!Tomura, sorry if this sucks and is pretentious

Bakugou’s studio is impeccable. 

Everything has a place. His tools are all lined up, hammers and chisels and rasps all hanging from nails stuck into a large board on a wall. Beneath them are three tool carts filled with various electric saws and files, all placed meticulously. Besides that is a hand truck, you assume for moving the bigger sculptures he works on. He has one corner of the room reserved for all of his statues and uncarved stones, the largest ones pushed towards the back. The smallest stones and sculptures sit on tables near by, all set—what you have to guess—an inch apart from one another. There’s a standing desk with shelves of art books and comics beneath it. The entire middle of the room is covered in a tarp that looks immaculate, like he’s never worked a day in his life on top of it, though you know that’s not true judging from the half finished giant stone sitting atop of the clean tarp, tools sitting on the last step of the stool he’s using to reach the top of the sculpture. It’s draws your eyes immediately upon walking in—the stone that looks as though something is crawling from inside of it. 

The last wall is covered in brown sketching paper, three rolls of it mounted on one side so that it can be stretched across the entirety of the wall. The paper is filled with a multitude of sketches and scribbles, notes scrawled across that you can barely read due to the obvious urgency they were written with. 

Being inside of his studio feels personal—intimate—like you’re taking a peak inside of his brain, but Bakugou doesn’t seem to mind. Tearing your eyes away from the giant in the middle of the room, you watch him bring an extra stool to the table he’s cleared for the two of you to work on. 

The project is simple. You’re both meant to agree on one artist with an emphasis on a single medium of theirs. Both a seven slide powerpoint and a six page essay are due about the topic. Bakugou was assigned to be you’re partner. Despite his obvious bad attitude and the constant frown he wears, he was surprisingly open to working with you. You let him pick the artist, but he wouldn’t let you leave without choosing the medium. So even though your interest in your major is slowly deteriorating, you chose the first one that came to mind. 

So now you sit in Bakugou’s studio (brain, heart, soul), listening to him as he explains the importance of your artist during their time period, eyes flickering between the text in your book and the stone in the middle of the room. 

“Stop.” Bakugou’s voice snaps you out of the trance you’re in, swiveling your stool between the textbook in front of you and the stone to your right. You feel his hand come down on your knee, pausing your movements so that you’re facing him. 

“Huh?” You ask, eyeing the size of his hand on your leg. 

“Moving back and forth like that. It’s distracting.” Distracting. If only he knew how distracting his giant stone with the person/monster/angel crawling up out of it has been for you. 

“What is it?” You ask him, spinning your stool again so that you’re facing the unfinished sculpture. His hand slips from your knee. 

He glances at it for a moment before shrugging, “I dunno yet.”

“What do you mean?” You ask him.

“Exactly what I said.” He sighs, already annoyed with the conversation. “I don’t know what it is yet. I have to keep going until I—”

“Free it.” You interrupt, eyes still on the stone. “Until you free whatever’s inside, right.”

He’s quiet for a moment, head turned towards you as you observe his statue. You see him nod out the corner of your eye. “Yeah. I have to free it.”

When you look back at him, there’s an unreadable expression on his face. Gone is the permanent frown across his lips, the harsh line between his eyebrows. You think maybe its curiosity, maybe suspicion. 

What it really is, though, is that Bakugou is suddenly struck with the feeling of being understood. And he didn’t have to tell you a thing. One look at his rocks and you saw it. He’s not sure how to feel.

“I used to feel like that.” You tell him. His frown returns. You recognize that feeling, like something deep inside is screaming to get out, that feeling that you have to set it free or it’ll die inside of you. You used to feel that way every time you pushed your brush into a blank canvas. 

“But you don’t anymore.” He gathers. There’s a harshness to his voice, almost angry, but not angry at you—angry for you. 

“I think I lost it. I think art school sucked the life out of me.” Whatever spark you had died inside of you like you always worried it would. 

“That’s bullshit.” He tells you. He stands from his stool and pulls you up with him. He drags you to the giant stone in the middle of the room, and up close you can see the cross hatching he’s done to it at the top where the limbs seem to start. “You can’t keep your eyes off of this. It’s making you feel something.”

“It doesn’t make me feel anything anymore. You’re just talented.” You shrug.

“I know I’m talented.” He scoffs. “That’s not what you care about. You care that she gets out. You care that I turn this cold, unforgiving piece of solid fucking rock into something beautiful.”

“Or horrifying.” 

“It’s not gonna be horrifying.” He speaks, his lips close to your ear as he keeps you turned toward the stone. 

“You said you don’t know until it’s done.” You shiver.

“No, you said that.”

“You didn’t disagree.”

“Stop fucking—” He sighs loudly from behind you. “Yes, freeing it is a part of it. But I already know what it becomes. I knew the moment I hauled that fucking stone into this room. And you know it too.”

You don’t think you do, but Bakugou says this to you with such conviction, you think you believe him. You turn around, breaking yourself from the hypnosis the rock has put you under. 

“I thought it was weird that you didn’t jump at the chance to choose our artist. I had to practically force you to choose the medium. Maybe art school sucked the life out of you, but you let it.” The truth is harsh, makes you flinch away from him, but his hand reaches out for your wrist to bring you back. 

“You don’t have to be so fucking mean.” You wrench your wrist from his grip. 

“You think this is mean?” He spits. “You paint, and you sketch, and if you fuck up, you paint over it or you erase it. If you fuck up with this—” his palm slams against the stone in a loud thud next to your head. “—that’s it. It doesn’t forgive you.”

“So what? I’m some kind of lesser artist cause I don’t chip off pieces of stone? Fuck you.” You push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

“No, you’re a lesser artist because you gave up.” He takes another step forward, his nose just inches from your own. “Whenever you wanna resurrect whatever the fuck died inside of you, you know where to find me.”

He’s off of you in a second, halfway across the room by the time you catch your breath. Squaring your shoulders, you march your way toward him. You hate that he’s right, even if only a little bit. His sculpture did make you feel something. They all did. You haven’t felt that excitement in such a long time, or that jealous pit in your stomach you used to get whenever someone was so good at something it made you want to be better. You envy him. How could a place that slowly ruined you build and mold a man like him?

“I didn’t give up.” You seethe. He turns towards you, towering over you with that same frown on his face, but his eyes have that familiar look in them from when you spoke about his giant.

“Prove it.”

[alexchiselart]

I have a multicolor pen now, yeppee

Jill had an Oblivion(tm) encounter

Martin has dark intrusive thoughts

That's all byeeeee

[guilty-pleasures21]

Prom with Neighbour!Miguel

Just had this in my head.

Warnings: some suggestive thoughts.

_______________________________________________

     Imagine getting ready to go to prom with your childhood sweetheart Miguel who lives next door to you.  

     Your rooms have always faced each other, the floor-to-ceiling windows allowing you to flash each other scribbled notes when you’d still been too young to have smartphones. Miguel had even managed to convince his parents to get him a projector two years back so the two of you could watch movies together when you were meant to be sleeping on a school night. 

     You walk out of the shower in your t-shirt and shorts, your body freshly scrubbed and your makeup perfectly done. You stop in front of your bed, admiring the dress carefully laid out on top of it. It was made out of sheer lavender lace that sat over a white silk underskirt. Thin straps held the corset top up whilst two off-the-shoulder sleeves curled loosely around your arms. You’d even found the perfect ballet flats in the same colour that came with thick satin ribbons that wrapped around your calves. You’d felt like a Barbie princess when you’d tried the whole outfit on at the store! You’d sent Miguel a picture of the skirt once you’d bought the dress, letting him know the colour he needed to match, but also keeping enough of your outfit a secret for him to be pleasantly surprised when he picked you up before the dance. 

     You glance up at the thought of your boyfriend just in time to see him tug his shirt off. You blink at the sight of his broad back, dumbfounded by the defined lines of his muscles etched into his tanned skin. You knew he was fit - he’d been the captain of your school’s basketball team for the last three years - and of course you’d seen him with his shirt off before, but the sight of his bare torso never failed to stun you into silence. You bite your lip as he runs his fingers through his hair and your brain momentarily goes numb at the way his muscles flex at the movement. You close your eyes and shake your head, pulling yourself back into your body, but when you open your eyes again, he’s turned around. 

     Your lips part as your eyes trace the outlines of his abs and you swallow hard when your gaze lands on the bulge in his sweatpants. You slowly make your way up his chest, licking your lips at the broad planes, then your eyes travel up the length of his neck to his ear. You bite your lip, chewing on it like you were nibbling his soft little earlobe, then you slide your gaze along his chiselled jaw to his lips. They curl into a smirk and you look up to find him watching you with the same intensity that you’d been studying him with. Your eyes widen with horror as he fixes you with a devious grin and you spin around, mentally berating yourself for your actions. 

     Ay, mierda, you were so hot, parting your lips when they’d landed on his core like you wanted to wrap your mouth around him and swallow. The blood rushed to his centre at the image of him sliding himself down your pretty little throat and he closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness hit him. He smirked mischievously as he waited for you to look up at him and a soft snicker escaped his throat when your cheeks turned red with embarrassment. Mierda, you were cute. He placed his hands on hips as he continued to watch you, waiting with excitement to see what you’d do next. 

     Shit, shit, shit! Ugh! How embarrassing! You were the one who’d said that you weren’t ready to go all the way yet, but there you were checking him out like he was your favourite dessert! You let out a frustrated whine, then twist your head back to sneak another peek at him. Miguel raises his eyebrows, his lips still curled into that amused smile, and you cover your face with your hands. Ahh! He was so handsome! And all yours too! Ahh! 

     You jumped up and down as you squealed with excitement. Well, he guessed that you were squealing - he couldn’t hear you from all the way over in his room, but he knew how you got whenever you got excited. You stopped suddenly and took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, then you looked back at him again, your expression mischievous this time. You turned back to your cupboard so your back was facing him, then you shimmied your shorts off. Miguel's eyes immediately fell to your legs, long and bare beneath your shirt, then they climbed back up to your ass. 

     You twist your head to sneak another peek at your boyfriend and you grin when you see that you have his attention. You curl your fingers around the hem of your shirt and tug it off before tossing it aside. You restrain yourself from looking back at Miguel and instead, gather your hair into a loose ponytail, treating him to a view of your back. You turn to the side and place your free hand on your hip, posing in front of the mirror in your cupboard, then you let your hair go again and finally turn to your boyfriend. Miguel’s gaze instantly lands on your chest, his eyes following the curves of your bra, and your nipples tingle at the hungry look in his eyes. You bend over, pushing your arms against your sides to plump up your cleavage, and Miguel bites his lower lip as he runs his fingers through his hair, clearly getting frustrated by your teasing. 

     Santo cielo, you looked so deliciously soft. His palms itched with the need to be squished up against your lush breasts and his teeth ached with the desire to nibble on your smooth skin. F*ck. He couldn’t wait until summer started - when you’d agreed to have sex with him for the first time. Thank god the two of you had gotten into the same university: then he wouldn’t need to wait until the weekends or holidays to be able to spend time with you. 

     You straighten again, flicking your hair back before running your fingers through it, and Miguel stares at you blankly as you shoot him a cheeky wink. You turn around and reach for your phone to send him a text. 

     ‘Should I change my underwear, cariño?’

     His eyes widened when he saw your message, catching onto your underlying meaning immediately. He looked up at you again and swallowed hard before nodding his head. 

     Your entire body buzzes with excitement at the hazy look in his eyes. He always made you feel so attractive, your boyfriend, lighting up whenever he saw you, proudly displaying you by his side whenever you were hanging out with your friends, admiring whatever outfit you dressed up in whenever you went out together. 

     Miguel watched intently as you spun back around and gathered your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the clasp of your bra. His heart thudded rapidly in his chest as you took it off and tossed it aside, revealing the entire expanse of your back to him. His eyes went round with desire and his pants tightened in anticipation of seeing your bare ass exposed before him. You paused to rummage around in your drawers, then you held out a mismatched set of underwear, still facing the other way. Miguel quickly grabbed his phone. 

     ‘Aren’t they supposed to match, bonita?’

     You replace the underwear back in your closet and laugh when you see his innocuous message. 

     ‘They don’t have to match, hermoso.’

     ‘Most places sell them separately.’

     ‘I think you’re thinking of lingerie.’ 

     His heart fluttered at the nickname - as it always did no matter how many times you used it on him - and he smiled as he looked up at you again. Then his heart leaped into his throat. 

     You let the lingerie you’d bought dangle from your fingers, teasing your boyfriend with the naughty sheer blue lace. You’d gotten it when you’d gone dress shopping with your best friend a few weeks ago. You’d been a little intimidated by the more raunchy sets of underwear, but you’d liked how desirable the cute little bra and panties had made you feel when you’d tried it on. 

     Ay, mierda. You were so mean, teasing him so badly like this. Miguel scrambled for his phone and swiftly tapped out his response. 

     ‘YES YES YES YES YES!!!’

     You laugh and keep the underwear back in your drawer. 

     ‘Hmm, I think I’ll save it for a more special occasion, actually … 😉😘’

     Miguel closed his eyes as another wave of dizziness hit him. P*tas, you were driving him crazy! He sighed as you clipped your bra back on, then furrowed his brows when you walked over to the window. You swept your gaze over him one more time, then pulled your curtains shut. Miguel let his head fall back as he groaned in frustration, then he trudged over to his closet to continue getting ready. 

     “Ah! You look so handsome!” You grinned when you heard your mother’s excited squeal come from downstairs: Miguel had arrived to pick you up. You smoothed out your dress and checked your makeup one last time, then you carefully made your way down to the entryway. 

     “Y/N!” your mum exclaims, delighting in your beautiful outfit. “You guys are matching!” 

     You lift your gaze to Miguel and your heart thumps happily when you see the lavender shirt he’s wearing under his jacket. 

     Ay, mierda, you were so, so beautiful! He stared silently at you as you walked down the stairs, admiring how pretty you looked in your fairytale dress. You stopped in front of him and smiled sweetly as you waited for him to say something. He grinned and held his hands out to you, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of yours when you placed them in his. 

     “You look so beautiful, princesa. Mi princesa hermosa.” His heart melted as you giggled softly at his praise, then your parents got the two of you to strike a few poses as they snapped pictures. 

     “Okay, guys,” you finally stop them when your phone starts buzzing with impatient texts from your friends. “We have to go or we’ll be late!” 

     You drag Miguel out of your house, laughing at your parents’ enthusiasm, and the two of you walk over to his driveway to get into his car. 

     “Oh my God!” you pant, sinking back into your designated seat. “That was like a workout on its own!” 

     You lean back against your boyfriend’s hard chest and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close against him. Your friends gradually collapse into their own seats around your table and you yell at each other as you struggle to be heard over the music. Eventually, the night comes to an end and where some of the more unsavoury characters in your year disperse to their own afterparty, you and your friends decide to head home. Miguel offers to drop off some of your friends who live in the same neighbourhood as you and soon, the two of you pull into his driveway. 

     “Do you want to go to sleep, princesa?” he asks after switching the engine off. You yawn, suddenly realising how exhausted you are. 

     “Yeah,” you admit tiredly. “I just want to put on my pyjamas and snuggle up in bed. Can we hang out tomorrow?” 

     Miguel leans over the console and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Por supuesto, princesa. Message me when you wake up?” 

     You nod eagerly in agreement and Miguel walks you to your door like the gentleman he is. 

     “Night, Miguel, I love you,” you tell him, stretching onto your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

     He bent over slightly and slid his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly against him. “Night, princesa, I love you too.”

[palabraasinnecesarias]

secret kisses ao3 | ff.net ship: ranma/akane words: 1,625 Ranma and Akane would steal kisses at every chance they got, secretly behind closed doors...usually. They hadn’t known how it began happening, but once it started it was hard to stop.  

Akane had just reached the bathroom’s door when a gentle squeeze at her wrist pulled her away too easily. She yelped at the sudden movement, her body twirling to land perfectly onto Ranma’s chest, as her eyes widen when she felt his soft mouth press itself against hers. She couldn’t help but allow her lips to widen into a dopey grin, feeling the way his hands snaked themselves against the small of her back to pull her in further.  

The young woman indulged effortlessly, relishing at the way he continued to pepper a number of kisses, her brain losing its trail of thought. Even after he pulled away, taking her a moment to readjust her mind and shake herself awake, remembering where they were. Still, his arms continued to stay hooked around her body, his face centimeters from hers as he whispered, “Morning, tomboy.”  

She huffed a chuckle, nervously looking behind her as she smiled bashfully, warning, “We’re gonna get caught, idiot.”  

He shrugged his shoulders, seemingly not caring of such consequences, his rather bold smirk tangling her insides. He was so handsome, his chiseled jaw now rubbing itself against her cheek before kissing her temple, and she could feel her feeble stance betray her completely as her knees wobbled at her nervousness.  

It had been a few months of this taking place; Ranma and Akane would steal kisses at every chance they got, secretly behind closed doors...usually. They hadn’t known how it began happening, but once it started it was hard to stop. Ranma usually had the upper hand, as it was easier for him to sneak up on the shorter woman, planting one quickly and walking away just as fast before she could say anything.  

Although that morning, he lingered just a tad longer, wistful to her essence. And like always, he released his hold and began walking away, leaving her completely abashed before making her way into the bathroom for her morning shower.  

That afternoon, the duo had found themselves home alone, as their parents were having dinner with family friends and the eldest Tendo sisters had gone to the market, Nabiki only tagging along because the marketplace was nearby a clothing store promoting a store wide clearance, and she wanted to stroll the aisles in case something caught her eye.  

Akane usually tagged along, shopping being one of her favorite pastimes, but she needed to study for finals – considering they were in their last year of high school. She had brought her studying materials to the family room in hopes that her fiancé would want to tackle the books with her; of course, he didn’t. At first, Ranma got lost in a book, not paying any mind to Akane as she silently read her textbook and scribbled mindlessly on her journal.  

It wasn’t until he stepped away, going and coming back from the kitchen with some snacks Kasumi had premade before heading out after knowing Akane would be studying. He held a plate of diced fruit, munching on an apple slice as he noticed Akane’s concentrated face. She hovered over the kotatsu table, her eyebrows furrowed as she mindlessly chewed on her lower lip, and he could feel his entire body heat up.  

Without much thought, Ranma made his way towards her and set the plate on the table, offering her some. She glanced quickly at it and shook her head, murmuring, “No, thanks, Ranma,” under her breath as she continued to study. He grumbled, his face souring before breathing in deeply.  

“Really got your nose in that book, huh?” He muttered quietly, not thinking she’d actually hear him, or stop her study to look over at him.  

“This is what studying looks like,” she replied quite sarcastically, offering him a quizzical look as to where his attitude had come from. Did it bother him that she was studying in the family room?  

He took a seat next to her, rather closely she noticed, propping himself with his arms, leaning back as he looked at her. His light eyes seemed to bounce about her face before landing on her plumped lips, finding himself leaning forward to kiss her. He pulled away after a moment, his smile widening as he said, “And you look real cute doing that.”  

Akane could feel her entire face change color, her heart racing at an absurd speed, having to look away otherwise she’d melt into a puddle right there and then. “G-geez, Ran-Ranma,” Akane stuttered, looking back at the table in a sense of going back to her studies, but she knew that boat had sailed. Not when Ranma decided that he wanted to kiss her instead.  

“What?” He scoffed, leaning towards her with a suspicious stare, “you don’t wanna’ kiss me no more?”  

“I- that’s not what- uh,” and then he kissed her again, his hand having reached for her head as he tangled his fingers into her short strands of dark hair to pull her forward. She sighed merrily into his mouth, her large eyes easily fluttering themselves shut, shivers running through her entire body at the way Ranma’s lips caressed hers.  

His kiss was always soft and tender, warm with the rest of his skin. And he smelled so good, like soap and sandalwood. Yeah, she was done studying for the night.  

Ranma’s eyes widen as a new parfait glass was placed in front of her, her lips widen in pure bliss, unable to hide how much she enjoyed the dessert. She sat next to her fiancée, quickly digging into a new spoonful, glancing over to catch the now-taller woman watched her with an amused expression.  

“What?” Ranma asked, swallowing and finding himself get embarrassed at the way Akane’s soft smile never faltered, shaking her head as an answer.  

“Nothing,” she replied quietly, “you just seem to be enjoying your sweets.”  

Ranma was now blushing, not knowing exactly why. Still, she shrugged her shoulders, “What can I say? They serve a mean parfait here, I tell ya’.”  

“Yeah, I can tell. This is your third serving,” she chuckled endearingly, noticing the way her blemished cheeks only managed to deepen their shade of red. “You look cute eating your dessert,” Akane confessed, now resting her chin against her propped hands, her cheeks round at the way her smile lifted them high.  

She didn’t know what to say to that.  

Not expecting much, Ranma’s eyes widen when she felt Akane lean forward and softly press a chaste kiss on her lips. It lasted a moment before she pulled away, the tip of her tongue licking her lower lip as she said, “That strawberry flavor is strong.” And she couldn’t help herself but laughed a tad louder as Ranma’s crimson face almost camouflaged with her red, oversized mandarin top. Now she knew why he had so much fun catching her off guard.  

“Ak-Akane,” she whispered harshly, looking around seemingly paranoid, “we’re in public.”  

“Ranma,” Akane scoffed softly, “Shampoo and Ukyo hardly ever come to this ice cream shop,” she assured her with a wider grin. “I think it’s okay if we kiss a little.”  

Of course, they both knew that wasn’t what she meant by her statement. Still, Akane kissed her again, just as soft and just as long.  

Akane had walked in to see Ranma self-train with some katas, dressed in his own gi, finding that they were matching. She smiled softly at him, shamelessly walking over to him and taking a seat in front of him. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, admiring the way his skill was easily reflected in his performance.  

He stopped soon after, noticing she had sat and was watching him, admiring him. His ego was already past the roof, he couldn’t help but smirk knowingly at her, “Watching ain’t gonna help ya’ get as good as me.”  

“If you sparred with me once in a while, maybe I'd get better,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.  

He walked over to her, crouching right in front of her, “Whaddya’ mean,” he retaliated, “I do spar with ya’.”  

“Nuh-uh,” she accused, “all you do is avoid my hits.”  

“I ain’t wanna hurt you, is all.”  

“I’m going to start avoiding all your kisses, so you can see what it feels like.”  

He grinned mischievously, “You can try.” His arms went to wrap themselves around her body, pulling her towards him, ready to plant one when she turned her head, chuckling under her breath.  

“Not until you spar with me,” she said.  

He was now pecking her entire face, her sounds of laughter and mirth loud and beautiful, and pleasing to his ears. “But you want to kiss me,” he accused, finding themselves with Ranma atop of her through all the wiggling and wobbling.  

She was breathing heavily, looking up at him, his dangling braid brushing her cheek. “Not anymore.”  

“Liar.”  

Akane shook her head, her teasing smile never leaving her face, “I am not.”  

Ranma quickly leaned down and kissed her, pulling away fast, “You like my kisses.”  

“Nope.”  

He kissed her again, “See?”  

She wrinkled her nose, “No, that’s not doing it for me, I’m afraid.”  

“What about...” And this time, Ranma’s mouth spread fuller, taking in Akane’s lips completely, his shut eyes not letting him catch the way her wide eyes twitch at how good it felt having him kiss her like that. His kiss was rough, full of passion each time he pulled away and angled his head to kiss her again and again. The pit of her stomach churned, and she shivered at the intensity of it all.  

After a long moment, Ranma pulled away, their heaving chest pressed against each other's as he said, “I told ya’.”  

[aalinaaaaaa]

A Deal Between Dealbreakers

For the Mistletoe Kiss tag from @forthesanityofstorytellers ! I hinted at part of this in a previous WIP Wednesday tag, and now I can delightfully reveal the whole thing! For context, this takes place a couple months after Eshani first became a High Councillor 👀

—

In the midst of fire and fervour, so flared this dance. Faeries bound in a trance of violins, tricks and trades exchanging hands.

Eshani scribbled her final touch on a note, flicking it to the other side of the lake. Matters for the afternoon plagued on her mind. Idle tasks, and those not so lenient.

Responsibilities and alcohol made a potion for internal tempests.

She found peace in the star-splattered nightfall. Hues of purple, blue and green adorned the night between the stars, reflected twice more in the lake and her eyes.

"They say it's good luck to kiss under starlight." One of her fellows slipped to her right, subtle as the night's breeze.

"Hmm?" She shook her head, making a noise not quite a laugh nor a scoff. Audacity was a form of bravery, she supposed. "How long have you been here? One would have to wonder if the stars are younger."

He scoffs, the surprise in his features a light decoration on his chiselled face. "Are you calling me old?"

"I'm not calling you young." Eshani closed the smile slipping through her face.

A gentle heat rose through her nerves, a common thread she hoped to quench. But with every word that he spoke, the more the thread lengthened.

"What makes of you, then?"

"An enigma, clearly." She laughed. Another mistake, a step towards ruin. The fire within her had a passion to it, a nostalgia she tried to bury.

They say the worst thing than talking to a High Councillor was becoming one, but worse still, the intentions written over his face.

"What drives you in life, Namon?" She gazes up at the stars, fingers laid bare on the railing. "What's your purpose?"

He bristles a few fingers near hers, a breeze of callouses over smooth, jasmine-blessed skin. "Well, there is one thing."

Eshani tilted her gaze in tandem with two of his fingers, propping her chin. She scoffed in laughter. "Of course, I should have known. What else are you but predictable?"

"Would you not pleasure me? Just this once?" His spruce-brown eyes sparkled with starlight, canines poking from his smile.

"Just this once?" She returned a smile of her own, his idle touch making her twitchy.

May Cerigo forgive her for this. "One kiss? One kiss alone?"

She pulled him by the shoulders and brought her face close, her whispers caressing the golden skin near his ear. "You have a deal."

"No fair, I deserve more." He cupped a hand over her left cheek, pulling her mouth into his.

Words melted from her tongue, sucked into each other's mouths. Her hands sought purchase around his neck and the back of his head, her slender fingers threading through dark, trimmed hair.

If any of them let go, the deal would be sealed. A moment's embrace brought her into a memory.

His lips perfectly fit into hers, his hands an electric touch over her skin.

She pressed in further, heat rising, melting into his embrace.

If she wished, the world would just be the two of them, in eternal fire, in this touch. Pulling each other's lives into one, her lips crawling up his cheeks.

"That's two kisses." She taunted, Namon planting his touch on her neck.

"You haven't let go yet." Another mark, a hue different to the one plaguing both their backs.

She returned the favour, her tone sultry in his ear. "Dealbreaker."

One cheeky peck on the lips for good measure, and they found each other staring into their eyes, flared with sparks of magic.

"I hope we can renegotiate."

Eshani gave him a smirk, hiding a laugh lingering behind the thrillrush. "You wish."

—

Tagging the taglists for General and A Healing for the Birds for this (ask/comment/reblog, etc if you'd like to be added or subtracted): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart-deactivated20 @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @original-writing @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @oliolioxenfreewrites @theglitchywriterboi @seastarblue @gioiaalbanoart @rae-butter @corinneglass @thelaughingstag @oros-ash3s @jacqueswriteblrlibrary @rainbowsnowflake @fourwingedwriter @oddcryptidwrites @ark-inkweaving @bardic-tales @oc-writing-corner

All those tagged above are tagged for the Mistletoe Kiss* tag game if you so wish, plus the following people: @darkluminosity @tryingtimi @thepeculiarbird @winterandwords @willtheweaver @abitscripturient @houndsofcorduff

And an open tag!

*let's happily ignore that there was no mistletoe involved in this lolololol

[ozzgin]

How do you draw so fast ???

It’s the second or third time I get this question, and I’m sorry for putting it like this, but…have y’all seen my doodles? Most of them are literal cave scribbles. It’s the same bald head I’ve been drawing for the past year. At this point I could probably sketch the outline halfway through a coma. 😭🙏🏻

That is to say, I’m sadly not chiseling any Madonna della Pietà in marble. It’s fast because it’s simple, silly, and something I’ve been doing for months. Higher effort drawings take me longer. :D

[somethingclevermahogony]

Seven Sentence Sunday (Or Monday)

Thank you for the tag @winterandwords!

Share seven sentences from your WIP

This little excerpt is from book one of Testaments of the Green Sea

“I will kill you! I will cut you down from your stolen throne, I will shatter your statues and use the rubble to pave my roads. I will chisel your name from history. I will wash your cruel residues from this city like the Aratshin washes away the winter silt!” Clash, grunt, a sharp intake of breath. “The beasts of the land will not taste you, no bird shall land on your breast, your bones will never feel the sun's warm gaze. I will tan your hide and pickle your flesh, like the butcher pickles swine!”

Tagging @mk-writes-stuff, @willtheweaver, @elizaellwrites, @illarian-rambling, and @scribble-dee-vee

[demigodsanswer]

So you really are incapable of making a bad AU I'm absolutely loving the tattoo AU. I love mom annabeth and sophia, I love the lukabeth angst, I love the potential percy & luke angst, I love the fact that you have percabeth basically flip their traditional roles while staying true to their character (annabeth is still a genius and percy is still goofy but they can be so much more too!!). I hope you expand on this story more I wanna see percabeth develop and percy form a relationship with sophia and everything that does to annabeth bc we all know girl can overthink. Anyway I'm rambling but I love your writing you're probably my favorite fic writer and I just adore everything you come up with.

Thank you so much! I've noodled around with a few more ideas. Right now, the fic is really heavy on the Lukabeth B+ Coparenting, with just a side of Percy going "hell yeah, hot milfs in my area want me!"

(for any concerned, given what I did to him in tuap, this Luke is genuinly a good dad, and also mostly pathetic and sopping wet.

he spent his teen years in love with a girl who turned out to be a lesbian who got a tubal ligation at 27, and at 29 she introduced him to a pretty 24 year old who he might like. he ended up not liking her that much on a romantic level, but now he's tethered to her forever. Oh and the love of his life's snot nosed baby cousin is back in town, six feet tall, chiseled, and handsome, and now he's sleeping with his baby mama. And all Luke wants to do is take his daughter to disneyworld while princesses and minnie mouse are still real for her. And for some reason, baby mama isn't immediately on board with the idea. and he's also starting to think he might be gay. he's had a rough six years)

Here's a little bit more -- set a week after the last bit:

~~

Percy still had his hand around her waist as they walked into the shop, ignoring the people queued up in line. 

“I’m serious about that Sting tattoo,” Percy said. 

“Give me a week to design a better one than what I scribbled on a place-mat,” she said. 

“Deal, but next week,” Percy said. 

“I book up months in advance, you’ll have to try your luck with a walk-in,” she said, turning towards him. His hands rested on her hips, and he looked at her with that troublemaker smile. Thank goodness he was on a tenure track; soon, whatever trouble he got into wouldn’t matter. “Of course,” she pulled him in a little closer by the belt loops, “I might be able to find the time, if you ate me out again.” 

Percy smiled and brushed some hair behind her ear. “Baby, I’ll do that again, tattoo or not.” 

“Stop being gross in my establishment,” Thalia yelled at them. “Things went well then?” She asked, looking between them. 

“Yeah,” Annabeth confirmed, stepping away from Percy. 

“So, should we expect a mini Percy in nine months?” Thalia asked. 

Annabeth rolled her eyes and sat on the stool behind the reception desk. “I’m more careful at thirty than I was at twenty-four.” 

“Not thirty yet,” Thalia reminded her. 

“Birthday coming up?” Percy asked. 

“In July,” Annabeth confirmed. 

“July fifteenth, mark your calendar, we’re taking her out,” Thalia told him. She watched Percy take out his phone and make a note of it. Annabeth smiled. 

She was about to warn him that she didn’t really party much anymore, but her phone buzzed. She slipped it out of her back pocket and stared at the screen. 

Luke 

Calling her? 

On a Sunday morning? 

She held the phone up to Thalia. “This can’t be good,” Annabeth announced. 

“You better take it,” Thalia said. 

Annabeth answered. 

“Hey?” 

“Hey, don’t freak out.” He sounded completely freaked out, which only freaked her out more. 

“Why?” She asked, turning to face Thalia and Percy so they could read her expression. 

“Sophie got hurt at the park. She fell. We’re in the ER,” he told her. 

“What?” Her heart raced, and she ran a hand through her bangs. 

“They did the X-rays, she broke her arm.” He sounded guilty, and sad, and scared. Although the sad and scared might have just been her projection. She turned away from Percy and Thalia then, her eyes welling with tears. 

“Is she okay?” Annabeth asked. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder, then a head. Thalia. Thalia’s arms wrapped around her, and held her upright. In her periphery, she watched Thalia flip off the walk-ins who were staring at them through the window. 

“She’s okay. They gave her pain meds and set the arm. They just need to put it in a cast and discharge her. We should be out of here in an hour,” he told her. 

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Annabeth almost yelled at him. 

“I’ve been trying. There’s no cell reception in here. I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

All she ever wanted to do was get mad at him, but he always had a reason to keep her from exploding at him. 

“Well, tell her I’ll be there in -- what hospital are you at?” 

“Beth-Israel, fifteen minutes from Electric if you’re there already,” he said. 

“Tell her I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she said. 

“You don’t need to -- I mean, I’ll bring her right to you --” 

“No, I’m coming, and tell her I’ll be there,” Annabeth said. 

“Okay,” Luke said, “we’ll see you soon.” 

Annabeth hung up with a huff, before wiping at her eyes, grateful now that she decided against make up that morning. 

Annabeth’s hands shook as she opened the Uber app, and Thalia just took the phone from her. 

“I got it,” she promised, “he said Beth-Israel?” 

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, her voice thin and squeaky. 

“Kids get hurt, mama,” Thalia reminded her, as she confirmed the ride, “but if you go in there all weepy, it’ll scare her.” 

Annabeth nodded and grabbed tissues from the box on the counter. Percy handed her a cup of coffee. 

“Thanks,” Annabeth said to him. 

“Is she okay?” Percy asked. He hadn’t heard most of Luke’s part of the conversation like Thalia had. 

“She broke her arm,” Annabeth said. 

“I did that when I was seven,” Percy said, “it hurt, but once the bone was set, it was okay. And I still have arms,” he said with a dopey smile, holding up his two forearms to prove it. 

“Which arm?” Annabeth asked, not sure why. 

Percy pointed to his SPQR. “It broke right about there,” he said. 

 Her phone buzzed again. Her Uber was pulling up. 

“I’ll call you?” She said to Percy. Percy gave her a thumbs up. “Do you need me to come back?” She asked Thalia. 

“Just walk ins today, mama. Just take her home.” Thalia took out her wallet and handed Annabeth a twenty. “Buy her an ice cream on me.” 

Annabeth smiled. “Her dad is probably going to buy her all of Disney World after this, I’m sure.” 

“Good, he should,” Thalia said, turning Annabeth towards the door. “It’s just ink, it’ll be here tomorrow.” 

And with that, Annabeth was out the door. 

~

The nurses all seemed to figure out who Annabeth was right away. She didn’t know if Luke told them to look for a blonde woman covered in tattoos, or if she really did just look that much like her daughter. 

They had given her a private room in the ER. It wasn’t too busy it seemed, and the nurses directed her there easily. 

Sophia was sitting up in a big hospital bed, still in a pink tee shirt and gray sweats, while Luke read something to her. Her tiny arm was in a beige cast. 

“Mommy!” Sophia called out, her eyes immediately filling with tears, her good arm reaching out to her, as both she and Luke said “be careful with your arm!” at the same time. 

“Hi nugget,” Annabeth said, running over to her, and scooping her up in a big hug, mindful of her injury. 

Sophia sobbed into her shoulder, her little lungs struggling to push out words as she became hysterical. “I was -- on the -- swings -- even though -- you told me -- not to -- and I jumped off -- even though Daddy -- told me not to -- and I fell -- and I got hurt -- and I learned my lesson!” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Annabeth promised her, rocking her gently back and forth in her lap as she cried. “You’re not in trouble, I promise. You’re okay.” 

Annabeth glared at Luke over Sophia’s shoulder though. You are in trouble, she tried to communicate. Luke looked away, guilty. 

“Aw see, I told you your mommy would be here soon,” the nurse said, walking into the room. He was a male nurse with dark skin and locks pulled back in a pink bandana. “She was very brave, mama. But all she wanted was you. All the nurses have been on the lookout.” 

Annabeth looked at Luke again, angrier now then she had been. This time he didn’t even try to look at her. 

“I bet you were so brave,” Annabeth said to her girl, pushing down her anger. “I bet Daddy was scared.” 

Sophia nodded, her tears slowing and her breathing calming down. Annabeth wiped her tears away with her thumb. 

“Did this nice man get you all fixed up?” Annabeth asked. Sophia nodded. “Did you say your thank yous?” Sophia nodded again. 

“Alright Sophia,” the man said, “I got the colors, which one do you want?” Annabeth spotted his name tag as he moved closer. Austin. She hoped her brain held onto it through everything. 

There was blue, purple, orange, yellow, and pink. 

“Your Belle dress is yellow,” Annabeth said. 

“Oh, I’ve heard about the Belle dress,” Austin said. “Do you want yellow?” 

Sophia shook her head and pointed to the pink. 

“Pink?” Austin confirmed. 

Sophia nodded. 

“Can we use our words, nugget?” Annabeth asked. 

“Pink please,” Sophia said. 

“You got it girlie. Mama, we are gonna need you to put her down for this part.” 

Annabeth nodded and got Sophia back into the bed. 

A few minutes later, the hard cast was in place, and Sophia was cleared for discharge. They’d check on the arm in three weeks, and go from there. 

“I want to go home,” Sophia mumbled into Annabeth’s shoulder while Luke filled out the discharge papers. Sophia was under his health insurance. 

“I bet. We’ll go right home, I promise,” Annabeth said. She looked at Luke standing at the desk, filling out forms. It was still his day with her. She rolled over her options in her mind. If she wanted Sophia to herself, she’d bet Luke would allow it. But -- “Do you want Daddy to come home with us?” Annabeth asked. 

Sophia nodded. 

“Okay sweetie,” Annabeth said. 

A minute later, Luke was walking up to them. “We’re all set,” he said. 

“We want to go home,” Annabeth said, adjusting Sophia on her hip, holding onto her tight despite her weight. 

“Right,” Luke said, “sure, I figured --” 

“Will you come back with us?” Annabeth offered. 

Luke’s face lit up. “Really? You’re sure?” 

“Sophia wants you to,” Annabeth said. As if to prove, Sophia reached for her dad, who took her from Annabeth, holding her with more ease than Annabeth had been. 

“Okay,” Luke said, “let's go home then.” 

~

Sophia fell asleep in the Uber, and Luke carried her inside. 

“I’ll order lunch,” Luke said, walking out of her bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

“Great, thanks,” Annabeth said, her tone short. For want of something to do, she started on the dishes she left in the sink. 

Luke’s arms snaked around her waist and he rested his head on her shoulder. 

“What the hell are you doing?” She asked. 

“Begging your forgiveness,” he said. 

“Okay. Beg,” she told him. 

He squeezed her a bit, and then said, rather pathetically, “Please don’t take her away from me.” 

Annabeth laughed, confused. “What?” 

“I’m sorry she got hurt, but please, I … I don’t want to stop seeing her.” 

Annabeth put the dishes down and pulled herself out of his hold. She turned to look at him. “Kids get hurt,” she reminded him. “Would you sue me for custody if she broke her arm on my watch? Or would you sue her school if she got hurt there?

“No,” Luke said, “but you are mad at me.” 

“Oh, I’m so mad at you I could scream,” Annabeth confirmed. 

“See, that’s the difference. I also wouldn’t be mad at you if she got hurt on your watch --” 

“I’m not mad she’s hurt!” Annabeth yelled, before bringing her voice back down to a whisper. “I’m mad that I told you no swings, and that you decided to undermine me, even though you said you wouldn’t. I’m fucking pissed that you told me not to go to the hospital when she’d been asking for me. All the nurses were looking for me!” Annabeth reminded him. 

“By the time I got ahold of you,” he said it as if she simply hadn’t been answering her phone, “we had barely an hour left, you didn’t need to at that point --” 

“You should have called me sooner!” 

“I was trying! She was in so much pain. I didn’t want to leave her alone. What would you have done? Stuck in a hospital, no cell service, when would you have called me?” 

“In the taxi on the way to the fucking hospital,” she said, poking his chest with a stiff finger. “What are you getting for lunch?” She asked. 

“Jersey Mikes?” He suggested. 

“Great, you know what she likes?” 

“American cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and bread,” Luke rattled off. 

“No oil or vinegar,” she reminded him. 

“I know.” 

~

Annabeth woke Sophia up after an hour and got her to eat. Sophia, blessedly, gave her parents a break from Beauty and the Beast and selected Encanto. Annabeth relaxed finally, nibbling on an okay Italian sub as the iconic tunes of Lin Manuel Miranda entertained her kid. 

“Your grandpa is a big fan of the guy who did the music for this movie,” Luke told Sophia. 

“Poppop likes Encando?” She asked. 

“Sure does,” Luke confirmed. 

At six, Thalia dropped by. “I had to come check on our tiny badass,” Thalia said, running over to hug Sophia as she giggled at the bad word. (Annabeth told her Sophia wasn’t allowed to say swear words until she was eighteen, and Sophia seemed to interpret this as legally she wasn’t allowed. Annabeth hadn’t corrected her).

“Nice cast,” Thalia said, reaching into her tote bag and pulling out a huge pack of Sharpies. “I brought you these so me and your mom can give you some tattoos on your cast.” 

Sophia grabbed the markers with a big thank you hug for her aunt, and Thalia squeezed her back. Crotch goblin, ha. 

Sophia started to rattle off the things she wanted Annabeth to draw, and Annabeth just smiled. “Okay, why don’t you sleep on it, and then pick out what you want where?” Annabeth suggested. Sophia nodded, obviously taking the decision about her tattoos very seriously. 

“Now, I told your mom to take you out for ice cream,” Thalia said. Sophia looked at Annabeth, obviously already feeling betrayed. “Has she?” 

“No!” Sophia announced. 

“Well! We should fix that,” Thalia said. 

“We were getting there,” Annabeth promised, “but we can go now. Go get your shoes on.” 

Thalia pointed to Luke as Sophia ran to get her shoes. “Are we taking the pouty one?” 

“Not sure I deserve ice cream,” Luke said. 

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a martyr, come on!” She said, pulling him to his feet. 

Sophia picked the brightest blue ice cream Annabeth had ever seen. It was just vanilla, allegedly, with Oreos, but dyed bright blue to look like its namesake: the Cookie Monster. Annabeth stuffed napkins into her cast to keep it clean. 

After a careful bath (with Sophia’s arm wrapped in a trash bag), Annabeth and Luke took turns reading more of The Hobbit to her until her eyes finally started to close. Thalia had been gone since Annabeth announced it was bath time, and now that Sophia was asleep, it was just her and her baby daddy. 

“Should I stay over?” Luke asked. 

“Oh,” Annabeth said. He did stay sometimes. They shared the bed when he did. It wasn't a big deal. It usually happened if Sophia was sick, or on Christmas eve. “Sure, uh,” shit, “I just need to change my sheets,” she said. 

There was a long, terrible pause as Luke figured it out. “You and Percy slept together already?” He asked, obviously judging her. 

“Yeah, so?” she asked, crossing her arms. 

“Seems a bit fast,” he said. 

“Well, I haven’t had sex with someone since you,” Annabeth said, “so forgive me for having some fun.” 

“I’m not mad at you --” 

“But you’re judging me --” 

“It’s just of all the guys --” 

“What’s wrong with Percy?” 

“He’s like a little brother to me!” 

“He told me you two weren’t close!” 

“Not anymore! It’s --” Luke lowered his voice. “It’s fine,” he promised, “I’ll just go home. Do with the sheets what you will.” 

Annabeth frowned. She wasn’t sure how he managed to do it, but she always felt compelled to apologize to him at the end of every spat. She held herself back this time. 

“Alright,” Annabeth said. “I’ll keep you posted about the doctor’s.” 

Luke nodded. “What about …” he glanced at Sophia’s door, “that thing we were talking about.” 

Disney World. 

Annabeth smiled and nodded. “You’re right, we should do it. It’ll mean the world to her. It’s so generous, Luke, I … I’m sorry I wasn’t immediately grateful like I should have been.” 

He shrugged as if to say it’s fine. “You’ll come with us?” Luke asked. 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Annabeth said. “I can cover myself --” 

Luke kissed her head. “I don’t want you to. Just go and enjoy yourself.” 

“Okay, I will,” Annabeth said. 

“My friend’s wife is a Disney travel agent. She thinks she can get us into the Beauty and the Beast restaurant.” 

“Oh Sophia will love that,” Annabeth agreed. “Do they serve chicken nuggets?” 

“I’d bet my life they do,” Luke said. 

He leaned in again and kissed her cheek as a goodbye, but when he pulled back, his face lingered. She didn’t stop him from kissing her lips. They tried this every few months or so. 

“Anything?” Annabeth asked when it was over. 

“No,” he confirmed. “You?” 

“Nothing.” 

Luke seemed a bit sad but just shrugged. “Worth a try,” he decided. “I’ll be in touch about vacation,” he promised, before leaving her and Sophia alone.