#i aspire to have art as good as yours one day

[disorentedfae]

It was supposed to be only a doodle but I got a little too carried away with it,,,,,

I hope you don't mind it)

OH MY WORD THIS IS SO SWEET flasdnadvnvjkns

[lividstar]

𐔌᭥ᩙ༉ PALETTE OF DESTINY.

୨ genre ୧ fluff, highschool au

: you’re an aspiring artist who’d very much rather trip over a paintbrush than have people find out about your passion. but when rafayel, the school’s golden boy and president of the art club, stumbles upon your sketchbook on a fateful day by chance, things are destined to take a huge turn – and suddenly, your well-kept talent was no longer much of a secret.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ note ! my break is finally over !! so glad i managed to pull through (also they only allow 10 image insertions so i apologize for the lack of dividers haha)

in the chambers of linkon high, where bonds formed like constellations in the night sky, you and rafayel orbited in separate galaxies. rafayel, with his magnetic charm and sarcastic wit, loved to stand in the center of the spotlight. you, on the other hand, were the complete opposite. you found solace in the shadows, often keeping to yourself as you went through the days in silence. it was as if your paths were not destined to cross, given how your worlds were practically parallel to each other.

yet beneath rafayel’s facade, a longing for at least a few seconds to himself laid beneath the surface. as much as he pretended to like being the center of attention, even though he would never admit it – not even to himself, he wanted nothing but for those eyes to keep their gazes off of him. after all, having a lot of people like you despite not being remotely close to you only meant one thing – they either have the intention to use you for their own good, or are just keeping an eye on you with the eagerness to watch you trip on your tracks.

you’ve always been thankful for rafayel over hogging the spotlight all the time, which never failed to ensure your chances to be one step away from the crowd everyday.

yet unbeknownst to both you and the crowd that adored rafayel, he has had his eyes on you for a fairly long time now, although it’s not in the usual way you’d expect.

rafayel had always been jealous of how the only attention focusing on you was your own. he was curious about your whole being, because people at school either love him or loathe him, yet you stood on neither sides – which made him both intrigued and grateful. intrigued because he always wonders what you are up to because of how mysterious you were in his eyes, and grateful because at least there’s one person in linkon high who doesn’t really care about his presence.

it only made him want to know more about you, though.

as everyone formed their own groups inside the classroom to chatter and spend their free time to its fullest, thomas leaned over to rafayel, tilting his head at him. “you really have a knack for making every little thing in your life complicated, don’t you? why don't you just go talk to her?” he suggested, nodding towards you who sat at the back, lost in thought by the window.

rafayel shook his head in disagreement, his brows furrowing as he did so. “that’s way too typical- you know i refuse to do things the easy way. also, i don’t want to invade her space or make her uncomfortable.” he replied, glancing over you with a hint of curiosity.

thomas shrugged, understanding rafayel’s reasons. “well, you’re right.” rafayel crossed his arms as he leaned back, looking down on thomas as he sat on the boy’s table. “aren’t i always?” thomas only shook his head, already used to rafayel’s cocky behavior. “no, not really.”

he teased in a flat tone.

“so then, what’s your plan? don’t tell me you intend on following her on her way home after school later just so you could have a one on one moment with each other.” thomas crooked his eyebrow, seemingly skeptical of rafayel’s plans.

rafayel scoffed, rolling his eyes. “please, like i’d ever do something so cliché- and why are you looking at me as if it’s an idea i’d actually consider?”

“because it is.”

“you-” the sudden ringing of the school bells echoing through the halls cut rafayel off, as students left the classroom one by one with their lunchboxes at hand, headed for the cafeteria. thomas stood up from his seat, patting rafayel’s shoulder as he walked right past the boy sitting on his table. “good luck on your journey of befriending the person who’s very likely to actually be the one who hates you the most.”

“that’s not even-”

this was the second time rafayel had been cut off now. thomas had simply closed the door on him. groaning in annoyance, rafayel hopped off from thomas’s table as he walked towards the front door – the one thomas had just shut to cut him off. but just as he was about leave, rafayel heard a loud thud behind him, making him turn his head quickly.

whatever he was expecting to see, it certainly wasn’t your sketchbook lying on the floor while you were in a deep slumber with your head down on your table.

walking closer towards you with cautious steps, he crouched down, picking up your sketchbook with curiosity. he took his time to examine each and every sticker and doodle on the front cover, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he found it cute.

as he flipped through every page, he found himself becoming more impressed with each sketch he laid his eyes on. he could tell you made sure each and every stroke of your artworks were given enough detail – they didn’t seem like something you made for fun to distract yourself from boring classes, no, rather, they seemed like something you actually put dedication to. you were undoubtedly a skilled artist who has had this hobby for a fairly long time. after all, it takes an expert to know one.

he eventually starts to wonder why you never publicly expressed this talent of yours. as far as his knowledge as the art club’s president led him, you’ve never joined any events related to art – you weren’t even part of the club, to begin with. but why?

something so beautiful should never have been hidden in the first place – at least that’s what he believes.

as he closed your sketchbook and carefully placed it back inside your bag, he found himself in a trance as he glanced at your sleeping expression. based on his observation, it didn’t seem far too different from how you looked when you were awake. you’ve always appeared to be calm, no matter what.

that was one of your traits he was unsure whether he admired or wanted to have as his own.

he decided to leave you to yourself shortly after, but it wasn’t until an idea suddenly came up in his mind. rafayel hurried over to his seat at the center front, rummaging through his bag as he ripped a page off his notebook, taking a pen out of his pocket. the sound of his pen scribbling on the paper softly echoed around the empty classroom as he wrote a note on it.

after carefully putting it inside your bag, he quickly left the room – not after taking a quick glance at you once more. as he searched through the halls to look for thomas, rafayel couldn’t help but wonder how you’d react after reading his little note.

—

“-which reminds me, i went to look for you at the cafeteria earlier, but i didn’t see you anywhere. were you at the rooftop again?” tara asked in curiosity.

“huh? oh... i think i fell asleep.” you pondered as you tried to recall the events before waking up to the sound of your classmates walking back inside the classroom one by one as they chatted loudly. “everyone was already going back to their assigned seats the moment i woke up, so i think that’s the case...”

“i’m not even surprised at this point... but, you know, i do wonder how you manage to fall asleep in your classroom- especially since rafayel’s one of your classmates. i bet it’s really loud there, huh?” she tilted her head.

“i’ve gotten used to it already at this point, i’m afraid...” you rubbed your nape as you chuckled sheepishly. “well, whatever helps you sleep at night. at least now i know where to look for you whenever i don’t see you around during break time- you’re either enjoying your own company at the rooftop, or sleeping in your classroom.” she smiled as she nodded while pointing a finger at you.

you chuckled softly, yet gave her a nod in return as well. “okay, then... take care, tara,” you smiled at her, waving farewell as you parted ways.

“bye-bye!”

you were already far deep into the night. your surroundings engulfed you with a deafening silence, as the dim glow of the moonlight passed through your bedroom window. you’ve been on a staring contest with your ceiling for approximately 10 minutes now, uncomfortably laying down on your back. this was exactly why you tried to avoid sleeping during the day as much as possible – you’d always end up having way too much energy to fall asleep.

groaning softly as you sat up, you reached for your bedside lamp as you switched it open, the empty space of the bed in front of you deflating as you placed your bag on it. rummaging through your items, you searched for your sketchbook, wanting to have something to do to distract yourself from the long night.

it was then that your hands stumbled upon a small crumpled piece of paper.

at first, you were confused – the paper was unfamiliar to you, so there was no way it was ripped off of something of your property. you unfolded it carefully, curious about what was written on it.

“the world deserves to witness how talented u are :)”

your eyes widened slightly in disbelief as you read the words written on the paper – this could only mean one thing.

someone had seen your artworks.

but how? and when? you tried to backtrack, and that was when you remembered that the last thing you saw before you fell asleep was your sketchbook. so then, now you were stuck wondering whether the note’s intention was to give a compliment or to make fun of you in a passive aggressive way.

opening your phone as you lightly squinted after being practically blinded with its blindness, you searched for tara’s number in your contacts, immediately dialing her number the moment you found it.

the soft glow of your bedside lamp illuminated the room as you sat up, your heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

after a few rings, tara’s energetic voice filled the line. “hey, you! what’s up?” she greeted cheerfully. “how do you manage to remain enthusiastic even in the middle of the night...?” you pondered, a confused expression on your face.

“drinking iced coffee four times in a row in one sitting, maybe?” and with the tone she used, you weren’t even sure whether it was a lighthearted joke to uplift the atmosphere or if she actually meant it. nevertheless, you just let out a sigh.

“why the sudden late night call, though? can’t sleep?” tara asked from the other line. “well, if i called a few minutes earlier, i guess that would’ve been the case...” you trailed off, looking down at the note you held in your hand. “huh? what do you mean?”

“i was rummaging through my bag to look for my sketchbook earlier, and i stumbled upon something strange...” tara didn’t even let you finish, already exclaiming eagerly the moment you said the word “strange.”

“mysterious findings, you say? i’m all ears!”

you looked at the note once again, reading it aloud to tara. “i found this note. it says... ‘the world deserves to witness how talented u are :)’. i don’t know how, when, and where it got here, though.”

there was a brief silence on the other end of the line, followed by tara’s gasp of realization. “oh my, that sounds like something straight out of a shoujo manga! wait- maybe it’s a secret admirer!”

you awkwardly chuckled, quickly dismissing it as unlikely. “what? no, i doubt it, tara.. i don’t believe it’s possible.” you replied, your voice tinged with self-doubt.

“what? hey, don’t sell yourself short!” tara chided gently. “you’re amazing, and it’s very likely someone out there clearly sees it- as they should! i mean, does the note not say it enough?”

you couldn’t help but smile at tara’s unwavering optimism, her words offering a glimmer of hope in the darkness of uncertainty. “my point still stands, but i appreciate it, really. but then again, you never know whether someone’s messing around with you or not in our school..”

tara remained silent for about a couple seconds. “now that you mentioned it... wait, what if the person who saw it was one of your gossip-obsessed classmates? what if they spill the beans until it reaches the art club?”

a pang of worry shot through you at tara’s theories, the thought of your private hobby becoming public knowledge leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. “i hadn't thought of that," you admitted worriedly. “i’d really hate for that to happen..."

tara’s tone softened, her concern evident in her voice. “let’s hope that’s not the case- i’d prefer for the mysterious person to be a secret admirer of yours and not the latter. and hey, even if it does get out, your talent deserves to be recognized, y’know?” she reassured you.

feeling a sense of relief wash over you, you thanked tara for her understanding before bidding her goodnight. as you settled back into bed, the warmth of tara’s friendship enveloped you, easing the uncertainty that had plagued your thoughts.

you felt the corners of your lips tilt upwards as you stifled a chuckle. you’ve always been grateful to have tara as your best friend, because her outgoing personality fits just right with your likeliness to remain self-reserved all the time. her loud presence had a perfect contrast to your quiet aura – which made everything between your friendship just go so well.

if you had a dollar for each time people would wonder how you two manage to tolerate each other’s presence, you’d be on a yacht right now – they’d always ask comments such as, “don’t you feel overwhelmed by tara’s enthusiasm?” or if not, they’d go like, “how does tara manage not to get bored by your consistent silence?” yet you two would only brush it off every single time.

you two were glad to have each other in your lives, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

glancing at the small piece of paper on your hand once more, you let out a sigh as you put it back inside your bag, finally feeling exhaustion spread all over your body. you figured there was no longer a need for sketching the night away at this point, so you placed your bag away as you switched your bedside lamp off, wrapping yourself around your blanket as your eyes fluttered shut.

as much as you tried to deny it to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel curious as to who the mysterious person who put the note inside your bag was.

and you had a bad, bad feeling that it’ll turn out to be someone you’ll least expect.

“first of all, you’re really, really stupid. second of all, you’re very stupid. lastly- holy hell, you’re actually so stupid!” thomas’s frustration echoed through the empty classroom as he frantically searched through his bag, his fingers desperately seeking the familiar touch of his phone screen.

rafayel’s incredulous expression mirrored his disbelief. “wha- now it’s on me?!” he retorted, his hands instinctively moving to his chest in a defensive gesture. “i hate to be the bearer of bad news, mr. thomas, but when you indulge in utterly foolish activities, you’ll have to shoulder the consequences afterward. it’s very immature of you to pass it on to other people simply because admitting that you're dumb puts your ego in pain,” rafayel asserted, crossing his arms in a display of dominance.

thomas’s sarcastic tone cut through the air like a knife. “are you done talking now, shakespeare? do you finally have the time to lend me a hand?” he quipped, his eyes practically rolling in their sockets.

“why should i?” rafayel shot back, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment.

“because you were the one who left my bag open before we headed here! if it weren’t for you, my phone wouldn’t have—" thomas’s words were abruptly cut off by rafayel’s hand covering his mouth, muffling his protests.

“yeah, yeah, i’ll go look for it, or whatever. can you shut your mouth now?” rafayel rolled his eyes, wiping his hand on his uniform as he released thomas.

just as thomas was about to retaliate with a snarky remark, rafayel sauntered past him with a smug expression, heading toward the stairs. “that’s what you call payback, thomas," he called over his shoulder, winking as he waved him farewell.

“rafayel, you-!”

rafayel relished the cool morning breeze as it caressed his skin, the tranquil atmosphere of the rooftop offering a brief respite from his hectic schedule. “guess this wasn’t a bad idea after all, huh?” he mused to himself, settling onto the floor and allowing himself a moment of quiet reflection.

closing his eyes, he momentarily forgot his purpose for coming to the rooftop. however, his peaceful reverie was interrupted by a familiar voice calling his name – soft chuckles he had heard every once in a blue moon during class.

“rafayel...?”

opening his eyes, he was taken aback to see you standing before him. “oh- hey,” he greeted casually, attempting to maintain his usual air of confidence. which was strange – being laid-back usually came naturally to him.

yet, in your presence, it felt different, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

“um... what brings you up here?” you asked, your tone curious yet cautious at the same time. rafayel chuckled softly before replying, “well, i could say the same for you. what’s your story?”

you hesitated for a moment, not used to being the center of attention- and neither were you expecting him to pass the question back to you. “well, i usually come up here during free time,” you explained, feeling a bit vulnerable sharing this with someone.

“oh? why’s that?” rafayel inquired, patting the floor beside him, inviting you to join him. you were a little hesitant at first, but rafayel’s easygoing demeanor put you at ease. “it’s nothing special... i just find it peaceful, away from the chaos of the school,” you explained, finally taking a seat beside him.

rafayel nodded, understanding. “i get that. sometimes you just need a quiet place to escape to.” you nodded in agreement to his words. “what about you...?” you asked, shooting the question back to him.

“well, you see,” rafayel launched into the backstory of his rooftop adventure, recounting the events that had transpired earlier. “ thomas and i had a little spat over his missing phone, and things got a tad heated,” rafayel explained, a hint of amusement in his voice. “he’s convinced i had a hand in its disappearance, but i swear i’m completely innocent.” he said in defense, holding his hands up.

“he didn’t seem like he was going to stop putting up a fight anytime sooner, though, so i just went along with his orders and told him i’ll go look for it- and you’re probably wondering what that has got to do with me going up here, but i figured it’d be easier to search for it from above, because, well, maybe he dropped it on the ground or something.” he shrugged.

listening to his animated storytelling, you found yourself drawn in by the humor of the situation. unable to contain it, a stifled laugh escaped your lips at a particularly amusing part of his story.

surprised by the genuine warmth of your laughter, rafayel couldn’t help but smile, his own laughter mingling with yours. realizing the significance of the moment, you quickly composed yourself, returning to your usual calm demeanor as if nothing had happened. “well...”

with the school bells signaling the start of the first period, your conversation with rafayel was cut short. as he stood up, he fixed his uniform, running his hands through his hair. “wanna walk to our class together? it’s not like we go to separate rooms, anyway.”

you were hesitant to accept his offer at first, but you figured there’d be no harm in agreeing anyway. you then found yourselves walking side by side down the hallway, headed to your shared classroom. the atmosphere was laced with a subtle awkwardness, and rafayel, always the entertainer, couldn’t resist breaking the silence.

“so, do you have any exciting plans for today?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone. you glanced at him, “me? well... not really, just the usual routine,” you replied softly, appreciating the effort he made to fill the silence.

he chuckled. “routine, huh? well, maybe today will be different. who knows, maybe we’ll discover a hidden talent or stumble upon a secret club meeting.” rafayel gestured dramatically, creating an imaginary scenario with a playful smirk.

you couldn’t help but smile at his antics, the shared moment of lightheartedness making the walk to class a little more enjoyable.

just as the silence was starting to settle yet again, rafayel came up with yet another topic to discuss. “so, what do you think the chances are of mr. nero bringing up quadratic equations again today?”

you couldn’t help but become amused at his attempt to lighten the mood. “knowing mr. nero... i’d say the chances are pretty high, maybe? but, i don’t know... maybe he’ll surprise us and throw in some trigonometry instead.”

rafayel grinned, pleased with your response. “ah, the joys of high school math. it’s like a rollercoaster ride, isn’t it?” you nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction from the usual quietness of your interactions with rafayel. as you reached the classroom door, rafayel gestured for you to enter first.

“after you,” he said with a smile. “i’ll catch up in a minute.” confused by his sudden change in routine, you hesitated for a moment before stepping into the classroom. once inside, you found your seat at the back of the room and settled in, glancing over your to the front door to see rafayel entering a few minutes later.

as he entered the classroom, all eyes naturally turned towards him, the usual attention that followed the school’s golden boy. however, what surprised you was the way his gaze briefly connected with yours, despite having everyone’s gaze focused on him. in that fleeting moment, there was a hint of something different in his smile, something that caught you off guard.

confusion clouded your thoughts as you watched him take his seat. was it just a simple gesture, or did it hold a deeper meaning? you couldn’t help but return his smile with a small one of your own, though uncertainty lingered in the air.

mr. nero began the lesson, and you pushed aside the thoughts about what just happened, focusing instead on the task at hand. but the memory of that moment stayed with you, a puzzle waiting to be solved in the back of your mind.

as rafayel settled into his seat, thomas leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “so, did you find it?” rafayel glanced at thomas with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “find what?” thomas rolled his eyes. “my phone, genius. the one you conveniently lost.”

rafayel feigned innocence, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “oh, that. well, let’s just say it’s still out there, waiting to be discovered.” thomas groaned, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re impossible, you know that?” rafayel simply shrugged, his attention now focused on the front of the classroom.

meanwhile, thomas seized the opportunity to get his revenge, crumpling a piece of paper and taking aim at rafayel’s head. with a flick of his wrist, he let it fly, but to his dismay, it veered off course, heading straight for mr. nero instead.

as mr. nero’s stern voice filled the classroom, rafayel’s grin faltered, replaced by a mask of feigned innocence as he faced his wrath as the whole class erupted into a fit of laughter.

“rafayel, care to explain why there’s a projectile flying through my classroom?” mr. nero’s tone was sharp, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

rafayel glanced sheepishly at thomas, who was struggling to contain his laughter. “wha- me? sir, i swear it wasn’t-”

“quit beating around the bush! is it really that difficult to act in an orderly manner?” mr. nero crossed his arms, a frustrated expression on his face.

“well, i just- it was an accident, sir. i assure you, i had no intention of disrupting the class.”

thomas couldn’t resist chiming in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “yeah, right. because accidentally throwing things seems to be a common occurrence for mr. perfect over here.”

the class erupted into laughter once more, and rafayel felt a pang of irritation at thomas’s teasing. he was supposed to be annoyed, but as he glanced towards the back of the room and saw you stifling a laugh, he couldn’t help but soften. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to take the blame just this once after all.

caught in the moment, rafayel played along with the situation, flashing a glare at thomas before turning back to face mr. nero. “sorry, sir. it won’t happen again.”

thomas leaned back in his seat, a smirk on his face. “nice aim, raf. maybe next time you’ll hit your target.”

“shut up.”

you and tara were supposed to go home together, but her girlfriend, jenna, the student council president, had a date planned for both of them after school, leaving you to head home alone. just as you were heading towards the gate, you noticed a phone lying on the floor. curiosity piqued, you picked it up and unlocked it, revealing a childhood photo of rafayel and thomas as the wallpaper. this must be the missing phone rafayel was referring to.

wondering where they might be, you remembered rafayel’s role as the president of the art club and headed towards the art room. pushing open the door, you found the room empty except for rafayel, his back turned to you as he focused on his painting.

“rafayel?” you called out suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise, accidentally smudging a stroke of red on his canvas.

as soon as he heard your voice, he didn’t need to see you to know it was you. still, he turned to face you, a faint smile gracing his lips.

“what brings you here?” he asked, genuine curiosity coloring his tone. you hesitated for a moment, feeling a bit nervous under his gaze. “um, i found this phone outside, and i thought it might belong to thomas. i was going to return it to him, but i couldn’t find him.”

rafayel nodded, understanding. “i see. well, i owe you my entire life- now i no longer have to worry about him nagging into my ear about his missing phone.”

before you could respond, your eyes fell on the smudged red stroke on rafayel’s painting, and you couldn’t help but point it out, apologizing profusely for potentially ruining his masterpiece.

“oh no- i’m so sorry, rafayel...! i didn’t mean to mess up your painting...” you apologized, feeling genuinely remorseful for your unintentional mistake.

rafayel examined the mark for a moment before dismissing your apology with a casual wave of his hand. “don’t worry about it,” he reassured you. “in fact, i think it adds something to the painting.”

perplexed, you questioned his reasoning, prompting rafayel to introduce you to the red string theory. as he explained the concept, you listened intently, captivated by the depth of his perspective on art.

“so, you see, the red string represents the invisible connections between people,” rafayel elaborated. “it’s said that those connected by the red string are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. even though it’s invisible, it binds us all together in unexpected ways.”

his explanation resonated with you, and you nodded in understanding, impressed by the philosophical depth of his interpretation. “that’s why i believe the stroke of red on my canvas adds more meaning to it,” rafayel concluded, his eyes gleaming with passion.

you were awestruck by his insight, realizing that his role as the club president was well-deserved. though you considered yourself an artist, rafayel’s level of understanding elevated your appreciation for the craft.

“actually,” rafayel began, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, “why don’t we add both our names to the painting?” your eyebrows furrowed in surprise. “both our names? but it’s your artwork. i don’t want to impose or take credit for something i didn’t create.”

rafayel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “it’s not about credit, it’s about meaning. your accidental contribution gave this painting a story- a connection. it wouldn’t be the same without it.” you considered his words, realizing the depth of his sentiment. “oh... alright, then.”

with a warm smile, rafayel handed you the marker, gesturing towards the bottom of the canvas. “go ahead, write your name next to mine. together, we’ll leave our mark on this piece.”

grateful for the opportunity to be a part of something meaningful, you carefully inscribed your name alongside his, feeling a sense of pride and camaraderie in the shared moment.

as mr. nero’s voice filled the classroom, announcing the upcoming event proposed by the art club, the room buzzed with excitement.

“attention, students! i’m pleased to announce that the art club has proposed an extraordinary event. it is a school-wide art exhibition centered around the theme of ‘strings of affection: capturing love’s melodies,’” mr. nero declared, his tone brimming with enthusiasm.

“this exhibition aims to delve into the complexities of love and its complex manifestations.” whispers and murmurs erupted among the students, excitement evident in the air.

“during the exhibition, each participating student will have the opportunity to display their artwork in the school gallery,” mr. nero continued, gesturing to a large poster board adorned with colorful flyers. “artworks can include paintings, drawings, sculptures, photography- anything that captures the essence of love.”

sitting at the back of the class, you found yourself lost in thought, your fingers fidgeting anxiously under the table. “the theme encourages exploration of various aspects of love, including romantic love, familial bonds, friendships, and self-love,” mr. nero elaborated, his voice carrying a note of significance. “we encourage each of you to delve deep into your hearts and minds to convey your unique interpretations of love through your artwork.”

the idea of participating in the art exhibition sparked a mix of excitement and apprehension within you. could you summon the courage to explore such a profound theme and share your interpretation of love with the entire school?

glancing around the room, you noticed people exchanging excited whispers with their friends, their eyes alight with anticipation, whereas the others were nodding to each other in silent agreement, perhaps contemplating their own interpretations of love for their submissions.

despite the lively chatter filling the room, you felt a sense of isolation, the weight of your decision resting solely on your shoulders. as mr. nero concluded his announcement and the chatter in the classroom continued, you found yourself lost in thought, pondering the depth of love and whether you were ready to explore it through your art.

as you sat there, wrestling with your decision about whether to join the art exhibition, the note you found in your bag earlier suddenly came to mind. pulling it out, you studied the words written on it, feeling a pang of uncertainty.

lost in your contemplation, you were startled when a paper plane soared through the air, landing neatly on your desk. with curious fingers, you unfolded it, revealing a short message scrawled across the paper.

“gonna join? - R”

your gaze darted around the classroom, searching for the sender, until you locked eyes with rafayel, who was seated at the center front. heat rose to your cheeks as you quickly stuffed the crumpled note back into your pocket, pursing your lips. you redirected your attention to the unfolded paper plane, hoping to conceal your flustered reaction.

for a brief moment, rafayel’s eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. it dawned on him that the note you hastily concealed was the same one he had written and placed in your bag the day he stumbled upon your sketchbook.

as you exchanged a smile with rafayel, a wave of warmth washed over you, mingled with a tinge of uncertainty about the mysterious note and the unexpected connection it represented.

rafayel couldn’t shake the desire to speak with you directly, to bridge the gap between them rather than relying on secretive notes. but with gour classmates constantly surrounding him, initiating a conversation without drawing attention to you was a challenge.

turning to his friend thomas, rafayel leaned in close, whispering urgently, “hey, can you do me a favor? tell her to meet me at the rooftop during breaktime.”

thomas raised an eyebrow, shooting rafayel a curious look. “what am i, your loyal butler or something? why don’t you just talk to her yourself?”

rafayel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i don’t want to make it seem like a big deal, you know? plus, it might be less suspicious if it’s coming from you.”

thomas groaned, shaking his head. “you’re hopeless- really hopeless. but since it appears i have no other choice, i’ll pass on the message. just don’t screw it up, yeah?”

as thomas approached you, confusion was etched on your face as you greeted him awkwardly. “oh- hey... what is it?”

he cracked a small grin, noticing your confusion. “hey there. that insufferable purple-haired guy at the front wanted me to let you know to meet him at the rooftop later during break time," he explained while gesturing towards rafayel, his tone friendly.

your eyes widened slightly at the unexpected message, and you stammered out a reply, “huh? oh, uh, okay. thanks for telling me.”

with a casual wave, thomas returned to rafayel, leaving you in contemplative silence. as your gaze lingered on their interaction, rafayel’s eyes remained fixed on you, adding a layer of intrigue to the message delivered through thomas.

perched on the rooftop, you found solace in the quiet surroundings, immersed in the act of sketching. the image of a sleeping cat with a delicate flower petal atop its head unfolded gracefully on the pages of your sketchbook, each stroke carefully crafted.

lost in your artistic reverie, you failed to sense rafayel's stealthy approach from behind. just as he was poised to startle you with a playful “boo,” your world shattered into chaos as you swung around in alarm, inadvertently smacking him in the face with your sketchbook.

the moment hung in the air, frozen in time, as rafayel recoiled in surprise, his hand instinctively rising to cradle his nose. wide-eyed and mortified, you stammered out an apology, “oh my gosh, rafayel! i-i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to-”

caught off guard, rafayel playfully teased, “well, that's one way to say hello, isn’t it? didn’t know my face doubled as a notebook magnet.”

you blushed, flustered by the unexpected collision, “i really didn’t mean to hit you, rafayel. sorry...!”

his laughter echoed, resonating with an easygoing charm, “no harm done. i’ve endured worse for a good laugh. besides, it’s about time someone hit me with a notebook- adds a bit of excitement to my day.”

rafayel’s curiosity piqued as he pointed to your sketchbook, asking, “what’s that you’re writing?” you hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to reveal your secret passion, but his playful curiosity was too infectious to resist. “oh, it’s just some sketches,” you replied softly, flipping through the pages to reveal the drawing of the cat you saw earlier.

rafayel leaned in, genuine curiosity evident in his eyes as he examined the drawing. “whoa... you drew this? that’s really good!”

you felt a rush of relief at his positive reaction, showing him the reference photo you took earlier. “yeah, i saw this cat on my way to school this morning and couldn’t resist sketching it."

his grin widened as he glanced between the drawing and the photo, barely even noticing any differences. “you’ve got some serious talent, you know that?”

feeling awkward at the unexpected compliment, you muttered a shy thank you, feeling a sense of warmth spreading in the midst of your quiet rooftop rendezvous.

“makes me wonder... why aren’t you part of the art club?” not expecting rafayel’s sudden question, you chuckled nervously. “well, you know, i’m just really busy with school and stuff.”

rafayel didn’t seem convinced. “is that really the reason?” he inquired softly, his tone genuine and caring. you hesitated, feeling reluctant. “actually, i’m just... i’m a bit self-conscious about my skills. i don’t really want anyone to find out about it.”

rafayel’s expression softened, understanding evident in his eyes. “may i?” he asked, reaching for your sketchbook. nodding silently, you watched as he flipped through every page, his eyes widening in genuine surprise and admiration. he lingered over each artwork, appreciating the detail and emotion captured in your sketches.

as he closed the sketchbook and placed it back on the ground, he uttered words that struck a sense of familiarity within you.

“the world deserves to witness how talented you are, you know?”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, a memory surfacing of the note you had found in your bag after that day you fell asleep in school. it said the exact same thing. before you could inquire further, rafayel stood up and reached out to you. confused yet intrigued, you took his hand, and without hesitation, he led you on a journey through the school, eventually arriving at the art room.

as you stood there, taking in the familiar sights of the art supplies and canvases, rafayel turned to you with a warm smile. “i thought maybe you could use a little encouragement to share your talent with the world,” he explained softly. you blinked in confusion. “what are we doing here?”

rafayel’s smile was gentle as he took your hand, placing a paintbrush in one and a palette in the other. he led you towards the largest canvas in the room. “what am i supposed to do...?” you inquired, tilting your head in puzzlement.

rafayel’s smile widened as he picked up a paintbrush and palette for himself. “do what you do best,” he replied. “huh?”

with a sense of determination, rafayel painted a bold black line down the center of the canvas, separating it into two distinct halves. “every five minutes, we’ll switch and continue each other’s paintings,” he explained, his voice calm yet full of purpose.

you nodded, intrigued by the challenge, and began your half of the canvas with soft, lighthearted portraits and delicate strokes. your colors were gentle and inviting, focusing on capturing the essence and aura of the subjects with a sense of warmth and innocence.

as the minutes passed, you and rafayel seamlessly switched, each adding your own touches to the other’s work. rafayel’s side of the canvas was a masterpiece of emotion and complexity, with mesmerizing details and layers of meaning poured into every stroke.

“you’re quite the artist, you know,” rafayel remarked as he added a flourish to your portrait, his tone praising. you blushed at the compliment, unsure how to respond.

somewhere in the middle of the exchange, rafayel not-so-accidentally brushed a small portion of paint onto your cheek. “oops, my hand slipped-”

and so did yours, it appears, as you left a mark of paint on his nose. you stifled a chuckle as you feigned innocence, “um, sorry,” you murmured, your voice soft yet sarcastic.

rafayel laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “congrats- you’ve officially caught me off guard!” he teased, his tone lighthearted.

as the playful exchange continued, each stroke of paint serving as a reminder of your shared connection, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading in your chest. it was as if, in this moment, you were shedding your inhibitions and embracing the joy of simply being yourself around rafayel.

and as the final touches were added and you both stepped back to admire the masterpiece you had created together, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. little did you know, as you looked at the painting, rafayel was looking at you with admiration in his eyes, captivated by the quiet strength and beauty he saw reflected in you.

"so, about that note...” you began tentatively, but rafayel cut you off with a nonchalant, “yeah, that was me,” accompanied by a shrug and a playful grin.

“you...?” surprise tinged your voice as you glanced at him, and rafayel nodded with a hint of mischief, pointing to himself.

“i mean, seriously though, you’re really talented. if you joined the club, you could totally be running the show instead of me,” rafayel suggested, his tone a blend of sincerity and teasing.

“i can’t tell if you’re trying to flatter me or if you’re trying to recruit a new member for your club...” you replied with a small chuckle, earning a grin from rafayel.

“oh, come on, i’ve already got a bunch of members, most of whom couldn’t care less about art. it’s a bit frustrating, to be honest- it’s like they’re not even there to appreciate the beauty of art in the first place,” rafayel lamented, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

“maybe they’re just there for you,” you offered, watching as rafayel nodded in acknowledgment, his expression thoughtful. “it’s not as glamorous as it seems, you know? being popular means you’re always in the spotlight, whether you like it or not. it’s exhausting,” rafayel admitted with a sigh, his frustration evident.

“so, that’s the price of popularity...” you mused, feeling a pang of sympathy for rafayel’s predicament.

“that’s why you caught my eye. you never seemed to crave that attention, and i found that refreshing.” rafayel confessed, his tone softening as he opened up to you. “i wanted to get to know someone who saw me for me, not just as who i’m made out to be.”

“huh?” you murmured, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity at his words.

“i’ve always admired how you kept to yourself, not letting the whole popularity thing affect you. it made me want to know more about you,” rafayel explained, his gaze holding a hint of something deeper that intrigued you.

“so... what do you mean?” you asked, your curiosity piqued by rafayel’s candid confession. he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he considered his words. “y’know, it’s just... these days, it feels like everyone is so caught up in their social status, popularity, reputation, you name it. and despite never wanting to be, i’ve been pushed into the center of all that because of the way people are way too interested in my life,” he explained, his voice tinged with frustration.

“people like you, who are genuine and don’t use others as stepping stones to become popular, are rare.” rafayel continued, his gaze meeting yours with sincerity. “your presence feels like a breath of fresh air in a world where everyone is so focused on climbing the social ladder.”

oh. “i never expected someone to see me that way...” you admitted, your eyes meeting rafayel’s with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. his expression softened as he listened, his gaze filled with understanding. “i guess we both had our assumptions about each other,” he mused.

you nodded in agreement, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “the reason why i least expected you to be the one who put that note in my bag was because i always felt like we orbited in separate galaxies," you admitted, and rafayel listened carefully.

“it was as if you stood under the sun, whereas i found solace in the dark. i’ve always admired the way you easily socialized and blended in with the crowd, wishing it was something i could do, too.”

rafayel’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at your words, and you felt a rush of nerves at having laid bare your innermost thoughts to him. but as you saw the understanding and empathy in his gaze, you knew you had made the right decision in sharing your feelings with him.

“but now, knowing your perspective regarding your popularity, i feel like my perspective has just changed as a whole,” you added, your voice soft but earnest.

“maybe we’re not as different as we thought, huh?” he said, an amused expression on his face as he suddenly took your hand and held it within his gentle grasp.

“huh...? i...” to say you were at a loss for words and had no idea what to feel over the sudden gesture would be a huge understatement. it didn’t help that holding your hand seemed to be something casual to rafayel, either. “i guess...” you trailed off, looking down on the ground to avoid his gaze.

the familiar ringing of the school bells echoed across the walls of the empty art room yet again, cutting your conversation short – like it always did. yet this time, you were grateful for it. had it not interrupted both of you, you’d be a stammering mess by now.

rafayel let go of your hand, putting one of his hands in his pocket. “i’ll see your name somewhere at the art exhibit, then?” he tilted his head, sending you a wink before heading out, leaving you all by yourself as you looked at the large canvas in front of you once more.

perhaps grabbing an opportunity standing right in front of you wouldn’t be so bad, just this once.

—

it had been three nights. three nights of you frustratingly ripping pages off of your sketchbook simply because your ideas kept clashing with each other everytime you laid it out on the pieces of paper sprawled out in front of you. your artworks were merely a product of your own will – none of which were required for a specific occasion, at least not until now.

love.

how were you supposed to convey the meaning of a feeling you weren’t sure you have ever felt in your entire life? not even the romance books stacked up in your shelves could make up for an inspiration. within each tick of the clock, the day of the art exhibit kept inching closer, making you dread every passing second.

letting out a frustrated sigh as you laid your head down on your study table, you were no longer sure if you still wanted to participate in the event anymore. maybe you should’ve just shut down rafayel’s expectations of you partaking in the art exhibit while it was still early – hold on.

that was it. that was exactly it. if you needed to seek guidance from someone whose field of expertise is art, there was no longer a necessity for searching all over your surroundings – the answer was already right in front of you.

you weren’t sure when his contact number got on your phone, but you were grateful for it nonetheless – maybe he added it during your collaboration in the art room while your attention was focused on something else. dialing the number, you waited patiently for him to pick up as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“what up, buttercup?”

the unexpected lowering of the pitch of his voice, void of its usual sarcasm and sass, caught you off guard. it carried a hint of raspiness, a sign he might have been roused from sleep. and suddenly, regaining composure became a priority for you.

“oh- did i interrupt your sleep? i’m sorry, i’ll-” he was quick to cut you off from the other line, immediately brushing off your concern. “nah, don’t worry about it. what’s gotten you all up late in the night, though?” he asked curiously.

“um, well, you see,” you stammered, struggling to articulate your frustration. “regarding the art exhibit event you and your club launched... i just can’t seem to find the right way to express... love,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

rafayel’s curiosity piqued. “why’s that?” he inquired gently, sensing the weight behind your words. “i don’t know,” you admitted, feeling a pang of embarrassment. “it’s just... how do you convey a feeling you’ve never experienced?”

there was a brief silence on the other end of the line before rafayel spoke again, his voice softer than before. “you mean... you’ve never fallen in love before?” he asked, a hint of surprise evident in his tone.

reluctantly, you confirmed his assumption with a quiet nod, even though he couldn’t see you. rafayel let out a soft sigh, the sound conveying both understanding and reassurance.

truth be told, that was the last thing he had expected to hear from you – but then again, the world’s always full of surprises, isn’t it?

“hey, no shame in that, yeah? we’ll find a way for you,” he said gently. “meet me tomorrow morning at linkon tower?”

your heart fluttered at the prospect of his help, and you agreed eagerly, grateful for his support. “okay,” you replied, a sense of relief washing over you. “thank you, rafayel...”

“anything for you.”

—

as you stood waiting in front of linkon tower, the morning breeze tousling your hair, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. the anticipation of meeting rafayel was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking, and you found yourself fidgeting with the strap of your bag as you scanned the area.

suddenly, you spotted rafayel running towards you,an apologetic expression on his face and two cups of coffee in his hands. “fashionably late, as always,” he quipped, his tone light as he caught his breath.

you couldn’t help but smile at his teasing remark, a mixture of relief and amusement washing over you. “i was starting to think you’d gotten lost in the crowd...”

rafayel chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes as he approached you. “nah, just had to battle my way through the caffeine-deprived masses,” he replied, holding out one of the cups of coffee to you. “one caramel latte, just how you like it- hopefully.”

you accepted the coffee with a grateful smile, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his thoughtfulness. “oh- for me? thank you...!” you said softly, taking a sip of the steaming beverage.

he flashed you a charming grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “no need to thank me at all. like i said last night- anything for you, right?”

blushing at his words, you couldn’t help but feel a need to change the topic. “so... what's the plan for today?” you asked, eager to find out what creative ideas Rafayel had in mind.

he shrugged casually, taking a sip of his own coffee. “well, i thought we could take a stroll around the park, soak in some inspiration from nature,” he suggested, his tone relaxed. “unless you have any other brilliant ideas up your sleeve?”

you shook your head with a shy smile, feeling grateful for the way he took the lead. “no, that sounds perfect,” you replied, falling into step beside him as you set off towards the nearby park. as you walked, the gentle chatter between you and rafayel filled the air, the warmth of the morning sun casting a golden glow over your skin.

while taking your time to admire your surroundings, your eyes then caught sight of a cat sitting on a bench. gasping in awe, you couldn’t help but to tug on the sleeve of his cardigan, immediately pointing to it- and the next thing you knew was he was practically holding onto you for dear life, looking at the creature with a horrified expression on his face.

you stifled a chuckle, not expecting the sudden action from rafayel out of all people. “rafayel, are you, perhaps... scared of cats?” you tilted your head, waiting for an answer. “scared? hah, please, like i’d ever- get it away from me!”

you held up the cat in front of him, laughing as you watched him hurriedly take a few steps back. he was about to completely turn his back to you in fear of getting scratched by the feline’s claws, but it wasn’t until he came to realization that this was the first time he has ever heard you laugh – all he’s ever heard from you were short giggles and stifled chuckles.

he admired you in awe without even realization dawning upon him that he was, staring at you as you kept inching the cat closer to him. “you do know it’s more afraid of us than we are of it, right?”

your voice pulled him out of the bottom of his thoughts, making him flinch slightly as he tried to play off the fact he just called you beautiful in his head.

he feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “oh, please, don’t underestimate the cunning behavior of these creatures,” he replied with a smirk. “they may look innocent, but behind those whiskers lie a mastermind plotting world domination.”

you couldn’t help but find his dramatic antis childish, yet couldn’t suppress your laughter. “alright, fine, i’ll handle this dangerous mission myself," you joked, putting the cat back down on the ground.

as you practically dragged Rafayel towards the ice cream parlor, his laughter echoed through the air. “woah, slow down! i didn’t know it was possible to love ice cream this much.” he remarked, amusement all over his eyes.

you flashed him a bright smile in return. “don’t we all?” you replied, unable to contain your excitement as you joined the line behind a group of eager kids. while waiting for your turn, the sweet aroma of freshly made ice cream filled the air, making your mouth almost water in anticipation. rafayel observed your enthusiasm with a fond smile, clearly amused by your excitement.

finally, it was your turn to order, and you wasted no time selecting a combination of three of your favorite flavors. as the server handed you your towering cone, you struggled to balance it in your hands, wanting not to let a single scoop go to waste.

rafayel chuckled at your efforts. “looks like you’ve got your hands full there,” he teased, buying the same flavors you had chosen. “i’ll have the same, just in case yours decides to take a tumble.”

—

while you and rafayel were strolling along, you stumbled upon an old vendor selling flowers. the vendor greeted both of you warmly, a twinkle of nostalgia in his eyes. “one for your lovely lady, sir?” he asked, gesturing towards you with a knowing smile. yet before you could interject and clarify that you weren't a couple, rafayel was quick to respond, his voice charming. “i’ll have a bouquet, if you may,” he said with a playful wink, catching you off guard.

“huh? rafayel, you-” his actions caught you by surprise, making you stumble over your words. yet even if you wanted to clarify your relationship with rafayel to the old man, you found yourself not doing so, having a feeling that no matter how you tried to deny it, rafayel would eventually find a way to brush your reasonings off. and you weren’t even sure why he’d do such a thing- you just knew he would.

as the vendor handed rafayel a beautiful bouquet, he offered a nostalgic reflection. “ah young love. you two remind me of me and my wife during the days we were still young... I hope the best for both of you,” he said with heartfelt sincerity.

rafayel played along effortlessly, nodding in agreement. “i hope so too, sir.” he replied with a grin, accepting the bouquet with a flourish.

as you both walked away from the vendor, you couldn't help but be confused at the unexpected exchange. before you could question rafayel about his actions, he leaned into the playful act even further, bowing theatrically in front of you.

“for you, my lady.” he said with mock formality, offering you the bouquet with a mischievous hint in his eyes. you couldn’t suppress a laugh as you accepted the flowers. “well... while, thank you, kind sir,” you tried to reply with equal playfulness, making rafayel laugh in response.

—

inside the arcade, the bright lights and buzzing sounds of the games immediately filled the air, igniting a sense of excitement within you both. making your way to the claw machine, rafayel insisted on taking the first turn, his determination evident in the way he eagerly inserted coins and maneuvered the claw.

you watched with amusement while he focused intently on the task at hand, heavily concentrated as he attempted to win you a plushie. but despite his persistence, the claw came up empty-handed each time, much to his dismay.

as the claw machine swallowed another round of coins, rafayel’s competitive spirit seemed undeterred. “alright, watch closely,” he declared while positioning the claw with precision. you couldn't help but admire his persistence, even as the plushie continued to escape his grasp. “you’ve got this,” you encouraged him, unable to contain a smile at his unwavering focus.

but as the claw went down for yet another attempt, rafayel’s expression shifted from confidence to disbelief as it once again came up empty. “what?! how did i miss that?!” he exclaimed, his frustration evident as he shook his head in disbelief.

with each failed attempt, rafayel’s facade of confidence began to crack, replaced by exaggerated frustration and protests. “this machine is rigged, i’m telling you!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “it’s like it’s got a personal vendetta against me or something.”

you couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “um, maybe you should let me have a go at it?” you suggested, feeling a rush of nervousness as rafayel turned to look at you. he raised an eyebrow challengingly, a playful glint in his eyes. “oh, you think you can do any better, huh?” he teased, already stepping aside to let you take your turn.

with a small smile, you approached the machine, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. as you focused on the task at hand, you couldn't help but feel rafayel’s eyes on you, his presence both comforting and slightly unnerving at the same time. you maneuvered the claw into position, holding your breath as you watched it go down towards the plushie of your choice. and then, with a satisfying clink, the claw closed around the prize, lifting it triumphantly into the air.

you couldn’t contain your joy as you retrieved the plushie from the machine, holding it up for rafayel to see with a huge smile. “i did it!” you celebrated enthusiastically, feeling a warm flush spreading across your cheeks as rafayel grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“incredible!” rafayel exclaimed, his tone filled with mock astonishment. “i’ve officially been defeated by the claw machine champion.”

—

as the afternoon came to an end, while the sun painted the city in hues of gold, rafayel casually inquired, “so, where do you live?” your head tilted in puzzlement, not quite catching what he meant until he clarified, “i’m gonna walk you home.”

you felt your heart flutter, your cheeks warming at the unexpected offer. “oh, um, it’s not far from here...” you responded, a smile tugging at your lips. rafayel’s grin widened, his gaze softening as he gestured for you to lead the way. “lead the way then, my dear companion,” he teased, falling into step beside you as you started walking.

as you walked through the familiar streets, a comfortable silence enveloped you both. yet, it was rafayel who broke it, his voice carrying a playful lilt. “sooo, did you enjoy our little date today?” he asked, his tone light yet filled with genuine curiosity.

a small chuckle escaped your lips as you nodded, feeling a warmth spreading through you. “of course i did. thank you for spending the day with me, rafayel...” you replied, stealing a glance at him.

it seems as if the fact he called it a date completely went over your head – and could anyone blame you if you were just happy enough to spend the day with him that you no longer cared whether it was a friendly date or something else?

rafayel’s smile softened, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. “anytime.” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “we should definitely do this again sometime.”

you felt a flutter in your chest at his words, your heart skipping a beat as you nodded in agreement. “yeah... i’d like that.” you agreed softly, a shy smile creeping up your lips. the walk continued, each step bringing you closer to your destination.

—

you two stood in front of your apartment building, and as you bid farewell to each other, you waved at him with a close-eyed smile.

rafayel swore his heart had never raced faster than it did now.

just as you were about to walk away, he held you back by your wrist, halting your movements. “wait.” you took a step back. “rafayel...?” you tilted your head in confusion as you turned to face him. his hand was still holding onto your wrist, and as he stood there, holding your wrist gently, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. He cleared his throat, “i was going to wait until the art exhibit event was over to say this to you, but... screw that. i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“what do you mean...?” you asked, not quite getting what he was implying.

“well,” he began, his voice no longer laced with his trademark sarcasm. “i’ve got a confession to make.” He paused, taking a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts, his gaze never leaving you. “from the moment i first saw you sleeping at the very back of the classroom while everyone was busy talking in separate groups, something inside me shifted. it was as if the universe intended to bring us together, to intertwine our lives in a way that i couldn't comprehend at the time.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, curiosity mingling with anticipation as you waited for him to continue. “you see,“ rafayel went on, his tone softening ever so slightly. “i never knew why i felt so drawn to you that day even though i didn’t even know anything about you- there was just something about you that made stare at you a little longer than i was supposed to.” he paused, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he recalled the countless times he had looked behind to see whether you were gazing out the window, writing down notes, or sleeping.

“you know, i’ve spent all this time trying to figure out why you just seemed to be so different from everyone else in my eyes. and maybe you’re wondering why- but that’s the thing. neither do i know.” you listened, captivated by the sincerity in his words, the layers of his personality laying bare before you.

“and then it hit me.”

rafayel continued, a warmth spreading through his chest as he spoke. “i’ve watched you, admired you, in ways that i can’t quite put into words- way before i even saw your sketchbook lying down on the ground.” rafayel confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “getting to know you even further with each passing day from then on was the nail in the coffin, you know? as i got to know you better through time, i just- the next thing i knew was i wanted to have more excuses to spend time with you.” he ran his hands through his hair, a soft expression on his face as you listened with surprise.

“your kindness, your warmth, your quiet strength, the way you’re always trying to view every circumstance you come across in a positive light, the way you’re... you. they’ve captivated me in ways i never thought possible.” you listened, your heart racing with his words, the air heavy with the weight of the unspoken. he took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving you.

“i don’t even know when, how, and why i started feeling this way. all i knew the moment i first heard you chuckle quietly at the back of the class that one time thomas and i were arguing over which of our answers to the equation mr. nero wrote on the board- neither were correct, by the way- was that if it ever became louder, i wanted to be the reason behind it.”

“you’re making it so hard for me not to fall for you, and as i stand in front of you now, i’m proudly declaring that i’ll be admitting my defeat.”

as rafayel’s words hung in the air, you stood there in disbelief, finding it hard to make his words sink in. and then it all came crashing down on you. the overwhelming surge of happiness you felt when you were adding your own touches on his artwork that one day at the art room wasn’t just a feeling of being glad you were finally able to express your talent in a way that isn’t scribbling on your sketchbook – it was because the feeling of being comfortable with letting your guard down around someone who wasn’t tara was an unfamiliar yet great experience for you.

the reason why you always found yourself staring at him in class wasn’t because you were curious as to how popular people like him lived their lives; you weren’t curious about his lifestyle, but rather... you were curious about him as a person.

“rafayel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the rustle of the leaves. “i... i never knew... i never dared to hope...” but before you could finish, rafayel reached out, cupping your face in his hands, his touch gentle yet electrifying. “you don’t have to. just... let yourself loose, yeah?” rafayel’s gaze softens, his hand still gently holding yours as he waits patiently for you to gather your thoughts.

“it’s just... it’s a lot to take in.” you finally manage, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you admit your struggle to process his heartfelt confession. “but...” you pause, biting your lip nervously as you try to find the courage to voice the thoughts racing through your mind.

“but what?” rafayel prompts gently, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “it’s just... everything makes sense now,” you confess, your words tumbling out in a rush as you finally allow yourself to let out the thoughts you had buried deep inside.

“that day in the art room, when we were working on that huge canvas, i thought i was just happy to be able to express myself through art... but now i realize it was more than that. it was the feeling of being comfortable with someone other than tara, of letting my guard down and just... being myself without having to afraid of being judged.”

rafayel listened intently, his expression softening with each word you speak. “and in class, when i would find myself staring at you... i always thought it was just curiosity about how someone like you lived their life. but now i see it was something more. i was curious about you as a person, and whatever you were hiding beneath your usual personality, i just... i wanted to know all about it.”

“i don’t know when, how, or why it all started either, but... all i know right now is that... i want to be with you, rafayel.”

a blush crept across your cheeks as you finished speaking, your gaze dropping to the ground as you awaited rafayel’s response. but before you can look up, you feel his hand gently lifting your chin, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sent shivers down your spine. “you know...” he said softly, his voice filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “i’m glad you feel that way. because... well, because I've been feeling the same way about you for a long time now- if that wasn’t obvious already.”

as the weight of your shared confessions hangs in the air, there’s a palpable tension between you and rafayel. slowly, almost hesitantly, he leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours as his lips hover just inches from yours.

your heart races in your chest, a nervous feeling fluttering spreading through your stomach as you anticipate what’s about to happen. and then, in a moment that feels both infinitely long and short at the same time, his lips finally meet yours.

it’s soft at first, a gentle brush of his lips against yours, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. but then, as the realization sinks in that this is your very first kiss, the sensation intensifies. his lips mold perfectly against yours, fitting together like two puzzle pieces finally finding their match. there’s a warmth that spreads from the point of contact, igniting a fire deep within you that you never knew existed.

as the kiss deepens, you find yourself melting into him, losing yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours. his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the moment, the world around you fading away until there’s nothing left but the two of you and the overwhelming rush of emotion coursing through your veins.

and then, as the kiss came to an end, you’re left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you finally pull away, your lips tingling with the memory of his touch.

“rafayel, i...” you mumble, cheeks ablaze with a crimson hue that refused to fade. he chuckled warmly, his hand ruffling your hair affectionately. “you’re too cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

your response came out as a nervous stutter, your words stumbling over each other as you try to process the rush of emotions flooding through you. he gently pinches your cheeks, eliciting a short laugh from you. “hey now, none of that,” he playfully scolds, a playful sparkle swirling in his eyes. “unless you want me to die or something.”

you blush even deeper at his teasing, unable to find a clever retort. instead, you offer a sheepish smile, your heart fluttering at his words. as you bid farewell once more, the memory of his kiss still lingering on your lips, you turn to head inside the apartment building. but before you do, you steal one last glance back at rafayel, waving at him with a shy smile.

he returns the gesture, a soft smile gracing his features as he watches you disappear inside, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a head full of thoughts of him.

—

you lay on your bed, cheeks still flushed with the warmth of the kiss and your heart pounding with excitement. unable to contain your bubbling emotions, you bury your face in your pillow and let out a muffled squeal, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

just as you start to calm yourself down, your phone’s notification jingle breaks the silence, causing your heart to skip a beat. with trembling hands, you grab your phone and glance at the lockscreen, where a message from Rafayel awaits.

“looking forward to seeing ur art exhibit project ;)”

your cheeks flushed even deeper at his message, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. you quickly unlock your phone and type a reply, fingers flying over the screen as you try to contain your excitement.

“i guess you weren't lying when you said i’d head home with a newfound inspiration... ～⁠(⁠つ⁠ˆ⁠Д⁠ˆ⁠)⁠つ⁠｡⁠☆”

on the other side of the screen, rafayel chuckled softly at your message, finding the kaomoji you sent along with it absolutely adorable. with a smile, he typed out his reply, reminiscing about the intimate moment you shared earlier before parting ways.

“see? that’s why it’s always the best choice to trust me in every possible situation.”

he replied, his message feigning smugness. you couldn’t help but giggle at his response, feeling a warm flutter in your chest at his playful demeanor.

“as much as i want to talk to you for longer, i still have to get my art exhibit project finished (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)”

rafayel’s lips curled into a small smile as he read your message.

“why not go to sleep now? we can always talk more tomorrow, yeah?”

and despite the simplicity of his suggestion, you couldn’t resist the urge to internally scream with excitement.

—

while they strolled through the venue, thomas couldn’t resist teasing rafayel about his frequent glances towards the entrance. with an amused smirk, he nudged rafayel, arching an eyebrow in curiosity.

“looking for someone, raf?” rafayel’s response was casual, though his eyes betrayed a hint of anticipation. “just curious if she’s made it here yet.” thomas followed rafayel’s line of sight, scanning the bustling crowd. “haven’t seen her around yet,” he responded. rafayel continued to scan the room, his gaze lingering on each passing figure in search of a familiar face.

meanwhile, as you hurried into the venue, tara spotted you and dashed over, enveloping you in a tight hug. “hey, where have you been? you’re late!” you chuckled sheepishly, “i may or may not have overslept...” tara only pinched your cheek, seemingly unsurprised by your response.

“also- there’s that one painting over there that everyone’s been admiring for a while now, and the art style seemed very familiar to me... that one’s yours, right? please say it is!” tara’s eyes sparkled with excitement. with a shy smile, you nodded. “yeah, i finally decided to share my work...” tara squealed in delight, squeezing you even tighter as she practically squealed in your ear how proud she was of you.

as she guided you through the crowd to your painting, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of nerves. but when your eyes met rafayel’s across the room, a wave of warmth washed over you, calming your nerves. tara caught your eye contact with rafayel, turning to you with a puzzled expression. “do you two know each other?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

you nodded shyly, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. tara’s expression shifted from confusion to surprise in an instant. “wait, don’t tell me... he’s the anonymous person behind that note you found in your bag, isn’t he?” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in realization.

with a knowing smile, you simply nodded, causing tara to gasp in disbelief. “oh my gosh! no way! are you sure you’re not living in a shoujo manga?” she teased, her excitement evident in her voice. but underneath her teasing, you could sense her genuine happiness for you.

meanwhile, thomas noticed rafayel’s gaze fixed on you and couldn’t resist nudging him with a smirk. “there’s your girl, go get her.” he teased, earning an eye-roll from rafayel.

as they both approached you and tara, the lingering memory of yesterday’s kiss remained fresh in your minds – and it was painfully obvious with the way you two were stumbling over your own words. thomas couldn’t contain his laughter. “look at rafayel all flustered...” he chuckled, thoroughly amused by his friend’s uncharacteristic behavior.

tara, on the other hand, was practically squealing with delight at the romantic encounter unfolding before her eyes. “they’re so cute together...!” she whispered to herself, barely able to contain her excitement.

sensing the need for some privacy, thomas grabbed rafayel’s attention, patting his shoulder. “i’ll go ahead and check the other artworks.” tara quickly followed suit, declaring her sudden need to visit the bathroom, leaving you and rafayel alone in front of your painting.

as the curious gazes of the surrounding students lingered on the two of you, rafayel turned to you with genuine interest. “so, are those lovers in each petal supposed to represent us?” he asked, his tone filled with curiosity as he pointed to a petal that had a painting of two people eating ice cream.

you nodded, feeling a rush of warmth at his question. “yeah... i painted each scene with us in mind.” you admitted, feeling a bit shy but also strangely exhilarated by his interest. rafayel’s eyes shone with appreciation as he examined the beautiful details of your artwork. “wow, you’re really...” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration as he seemed to be out of words. “you have such an amazing talent, you know that?”

you couldn’t help but smile at his heartfelt comment, feeling a surge of confidence in your abilities. “you think so...?”

“know so.”

“i swear, one day my lighthearted jokes about you being the next president of the art club will come true to life. i wouldn’t even be surprised, you know?” he teased, flashing you a charming grin that made your heart skip a beat.

as you and rafayel left your painting behind to explore the other artworks, the eyes of the gathered students followed your every move. some watched in surprise, their eyebrows raised in curiosity as you were engaged in a conversation with rafayel. others couldn’t contain their excitement, their voices tinted with squeals of delight as they observed the unlikely dynamic between the two of you.

“oh my gosh, look at them! they’re so adorable together...” one girl whispered to her friend, nudging her with an elbow as she pointed discreetly at the two of you. “i know, right? who would’ve thought they’d make such a cute couple?” her friend replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“did you see the way he looked at her? it’s like she’s the only one in the room!” one of them remarked, her heart fluttering at the sight. “and she’s glowing! i’ve never seen someone look so beautiful before.” another girl added, a sense of joy evident in her tone as she observed your interaction with rafayel.

nearby, a group of boys exchanged knowing glances, their expressions filled with admiration for rafayel’s ability to break through your shell. “man, rafayel’s really got it going on with her.” one of them remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice as he watched you two interact.

“yeah, but look at her, she’s holding her own too. rafayel’s really lucky, isn’t he?” another boy added, nodding approvingly as he watched you converse with rafayel. "have you ever seen anyone as radiant as her?” one of them whispered, captivated by your presence.

“she’s like a living artwork herself.” another remarked, admiring the way you seemed to bring color and life to the atmosphere surrounding both you and rafayel.

“i heard she’s the one behind that stunning painting. makes sense, she’s got such a creative aura about her, doesn’t she?” a third boy commented, impressed by your artistic talents and the way you expressed yourself through your work.

as the crowd’s whispers of admiration reached your ears, rafayel couldn’t help but grin, turning to you with a proud gleam in his eyes. “you hear that?” he said softly, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “told you the world deserves to witness how talented you are.”

you felt a warm flush of gratitude spread through you at his words, grateful for his unwavering support. with a shy smile, you nodded, feeling a newfound sense of confidence blooming within you. “thank you, rafayel- for everything, really.” you whispered, feeling a surge of appreciation for the boy who had helped you break out of your shell and embrace your true potential.

and you’ll forever be grateful for having him in your life.

♡ , cupidswan.

[shijiujun]

WHY YOU SHOULD WATCH 莲花楼 MYSTERIOUS LOTUS CASEBOOK

Guess I’m back for another rec, you know I’m there when I get minimum two bromance dudes and historical and OOMPH if you liked The Blood of Youth this might be up your lane!! Slightly similar main character premise but super good, the trope never gets old!!

TL;DR

- Stupid disciple + his (unknowing) shifu - Enemy bros “where is my shixiong’s remains?!” + “defeat me and find out” vibes who have to work together and form their deep friendship and get past misunderstanding and mystery blah blah love it - All-powerful legendary swordsman losing all his powers and becoming a legendary physician - Everything is about dead shixiong we don’t even know how the man looks like - Investigations and jianghu shenanigans, cases!!!  - Uwu puppy dog and good in martial arts disciple and his sickly, ex-legendary and still cool shifu who doesn’t know he’s a shifu LMAO - Yes uwu bromance, especially cuz shifu is DYING and he is WEAK and he gonna spit out blood and faint everywhere as they find cure for him 

-----------

AIRING DEETS

Total episodes: 40

Premiered on: July 23

VIP ends: August 18

Can be watched from iQiyi

Airing schedule: 6 episodes on the first day, 2 episodes everyday after for 6 days, then 8 episodes a week except for the last week, that has 6 episodes with finale

SUMMARY

Ten years ago, Li Xiangyi who was master of Sigu Sect, challenged Di Feisheng, master of the Jinyuan Alliance, to a fight on the seas, where they both end up critically hurt as Li Xiangyi tries to find out where his shixiong’s (Shan Gu Dao) corpse and bones went - his sect was attacked on the same day, and when he returns to the sect, critically injured, he sees some of his deputies blaming him for the attack, and instead of going in, he disappears after that.

Ten years later, Li Xiangyi is now Li Lianhua (Lotus Li LMAO) and he’s an eccentric but skilled doctor who has his eyes on earning money. By chance, he meets Fang Duobing (Fang Many Illness LMAO), a young, aspiring detective who’s super skilled in martial arts, but he’s been unable to enrol in Bai Chuan Yuan (the past Sigu Sect), a sort-of sect that plays an enforcer role in the pugilistic world and helps to solve cases, arrest wrongdoers, and the like. Fang Duobing’s dream is to get in, but as he’s the only son of two powerful people who’ve been refusing to let him be part of Bai Chuan Yuan, he’s failed the test 3 times despite being the most-skilled one there. On his third try, however, he tells the four masters of Bai Chuan Yuan that his shifu is Li Xiangyi, a Li Xiangyi who used to be a part of Bai Chuan Yuan and is still greatly missed by the four masters. They agree to it, but only if FDB solve three cases with arrests.

His first case leads him to meet LXY who’s now known as Li Lianhua, and their meeting doesn’t go off to a great start; FDB is idealistic and a rich, wealthy young master at heart who’s never suffered much hardship, and LLH drugs him after and scolds him for being too trusting of people and being too obvious, going around with two servants. LLH leaves him with parting words, only to meet him again later at the scene of the crime.

They solve cases together from there; LLH is still looking for his shixiong’s body ten years later, and decides to solve cases with FDB as a guise to get closer to the truth, making use of FDB slightly. Later, Di Feisheng recognises him, and the three of them are forced to become allies/friends to uncover a greater conspiracy. The clock is ticking for them as well, as Li Xiangyi was poisoned and injured ten years ago, and was given only ten more years to live. The story begins in the year that he’s meant to die.

*Fang Duobing met Li Xiangyi when he was young and still sickly, and Li Xiangyi encouraged him, and Fang Duobing held onto his every word and suffered a lot to become healthy again and as skilled as he is today, all because Li Xiangyi said those words to him that year ;-;

WHY YOU SHOULD WATCH

(1) Fight scenes are GREAT 

- Water water water

- All female sect?!

(2) Bromance, subtle for now, but greater later I assume - ZENG SHUNXI’S FACE HE SO PUPPY BLURBLUR AND SMILING?! AND CHENG YI SMIRKING?! Like Fang Duobing is just wagging his tail and running after a person he doesn’t know is truly his shifu as he claims LOL

(3) Shifu Li Xiangyi not knowing he was shifu to Fang Duobing

(4) Li Xiangyi being the reason for Fang Duobing to EXIST but Li Xiangyi ain’t around anymore (not) and he sad and Li Xiangyi can’t tell him who he is UWUUUU

(5) Familiar faces hehe if you are a SNGX/The Blood of Youth and SHL fan 

(6) CASES ARE INTERESTING!!!

[glowwithsophia]

The Subtle Art of Becoming "That Girl" in 2024 🌸✨

°❀°•❀•°❀°•°❀°•°❀°•°❀°•°❀°•°❀°•°❀°•°❀°•°❀°•°❀°•°❀°•°❀°

Hello beautiful souls! It's me, Sophia. If you are new reader then

Hi! I’m Sophia and I want to empower women to prioritize their well-being while pursuing their dreams🌟

Today, I woke up feeling extra inspired by the #thatgirl aesthetic. You know her – she's the girl who embodies self-love, radiates positivity, and just seems to have her life beautifully organized. Personally, I believe, she's not just a trend; she's a movement towards becoming the best version of ourselves. And guess what? Becoming "that girl" isn't about perfection; it's about progress. It's about embracing the journey of self-improvement, self-care, and love. So, let's dive into a few ways you can bring a little bit of "that girl" magic into your everyday life:

1. Morning Rituals ✨

Start your day with purpose. Whether it's a morning skincare routine, meditation, or writing down your thoughts in a daily planner, find what centers you. If you have been following me for a while then you know how important this is. Remember, it's these small rituals that set the tone for a productive, positive day.

2. Self-Care Sundays 🛁

Dedicate time each week to pamper yourself. This could be a long bath, a skincare routine, or even a cozy evening with a book. It's all about showing yourself some love and appreciation.

I remember back in my childhood my older sister used to always have pamper sundays and I would always try and follow her footsteps however, back then your girl was as lazy as one can be...so zero exceptions. Be better than me girls and make the future you be proud.

3. Clean Girl Aesthetic 🌿

Embrace the clean girl aesthetic with a minimalist wardrobe, clean makeup looks, and a tidy space. A clutter-free environment not only looks good but also brings a sense of calm and order to your mind. Clean home = clean mind + remember clean body

4. Find Your Fitness Love 💕

Whether it's pink pilates, yoga, or a brisk walk in the park, find a physical activity that you love. It's not just about the physical benefits but the mental clarity and energy boost it brings.

5. Nourish to Flourish 🍓

Eating well is a form of self-respect. Fill your plate with colors, textures, and nutrients. It's not just about looking good, but feeling good from the inside out.

6. Learn and Grow 🌱

Embrace new hobbies, read more books, and challenge yourself to learn something new often. Growth is a huge part of becoming "that girl".

7. Stay Organized 📒

Invest in a good daily planner to keep track of your goals, appointments, and to-dos. There's something incredibly satisfying about ticking off tasks and staying on top of your game.

And here's a little secret for you: part of my "that girl" journey includes creating pieces that speak to my soul. I stumbled upon this adorable Etsy shop aka my Etsy Shop [GlowInGrow] that just screams self-care and love. My THAT GIRL planner is something that I did with love and my own hands. For me, it's not just a planner, it's my way of helping others because that's what being her is. Being her means she shares her secrets to help the rest of the girlies. MESSAGE ME FOR THE PROMO CODE *hint*

Also this planner has got you covered from setting your intentions and tracking your habits to planning your meals and self-care routines perfect for anyone looking to add that extra touch of mindfulness and beauty to their daily routine. It's subtle, but oh, so beautiful. 🌟

AND REMEMBER;

Becoming "that girl" isn't an overnight transformation. It's about making small, meaningful changes that align with who you are and who you aspire to be. Let's embrace this journey together, one step at a time. 💕

Last but not least, at the end of your journey of becoming that girl awaits the future who is The Girl!

Stay safe and stay hot...

With Love, Sophia

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[winterr77]

ੈ✩ Habits for your academic life

Below are some habits and rules to keep in mind throughout your studies and some tips that will elevate your learning experiences.

☆ Setting boundaries and learning to say no

It is always easy to say yes and join every social event that one is invited to, however its crucial to consider your own personal life and the consequences of your decisions. Hanging out with friends is a needed event as a social creature, however it's better to exercise caution and know when to say "no" to focus on your own goals and dreams. Don't get pulled into the pace of others and focus on finding a routine and schedule that works for your own benefit.

☆ Being comfortable with your own company

You will find in uni that there are lots of times that you will spend alone, and maybe feel a little anxious that you're the only person who isn't constantly in the company of someone everyday like you maybe were in high school. However, realise that even the time to yourself is a time of value, and treasure those moments to focus and work on your own goals. It is easier to get lost and lose sight of your ambitions when with others who don't have the same aspirations as yourself. Use your own time to sit down and work out what you want to achieve and quietly put in the effort to win.

☆ Never being scared to ask questions

It can be quite daunting to ask questions in lectures, so I prefer to ask my questions during times that aren't forced into a short time interval, such as tutorials, office hours, and other forms of learning support that your university/college provides. This way there is no rush to answer my questions and take my time in working through concepts and ideas. Ask questions based on your own conclusions, questions that challenge current rules and perspectives. Think deeper into your lessons and seek to make use of every bit of information.

☆ Being curious

This is very much related to the point above, that being that personal interest really aids with the brains memory retention. The more things you approach with an enthusiastic attitude, the easier it is for your brain to remember and categorise. Having curiosity, even if it is forced, gives a great advantage where you seek to interconnect the information you learn with other data, and grow more networks of neurons that allows your brain to stay healthy and active.

☆ Initiating contact

Struggling with a theory or assignment? Great, it shows that you are actively trying to understand a concept and working your brain muscles. Now the best way to comprehend or complete what you are struggling with is to access support materials. Still difficult? Reach out. Your teachers, professors, tutors are all there for your benefit. Use them intelligently and squeeze every drop of assistance and support from them while they are still available to you.

☆Watching educational content to aid your studies

You can never lose from learning a bit more every day. However make sure to fact check and find your information from trusted and quality sources. In general, it's always a win to be educated in various topics from health, sciences, arts, humanities and more to gain a better understanding of ourselves, our world, and humanity.

For example, I watched a ted talk today, and here is my conclusions from my notes:

ੈ✩TedX: Why Reading Matters by Rita Carter

Summary:

☆Your brain needs a workout as much as your body. And reading fiction seems to be one of the best workouts you can get. (I recommend quality fiction, with that being classic literature because it genuinely exercises your mind with its intricate language techniques and diverse vocabulary)

☆Not only is it good for you, but it's also good for society as a whole because the brain is like a muscle: the more you force yourself through books to take other people's perspectives, to sympathise, to empathise with other people, the more empathetic a society we will have.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

good luck lovelies

~winter

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚

[guxciestone]

— pursuing your dream career. ❞

(pick a card reading)

‎🪷✧

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

hi! i hope you’re having a good day. if you have any tarot or astrology post recommendations, i’ll be willing to considering it. thank you and god bless <3

‎

‎

✧ pile 1 ✧

what is your dream career?

- The main goal for almost everyone in this pile is to achieve a career that gives you financial security, recognition, and success. You aspire to be one of the greats at what you do and gain respect for it. I feel like these are the people who want to become doctors, surgeons, architects, engineers, or lawyers—much more serious and important careers that guarantees a prominent status in society and financial stability. A small group of you may want to pursue a business and become a CEO. Other careers that come to mind are accountants, real estate agents, financial advisors. For a few of you, you want to become a florist or gardener—something with flowers or gardens.

‎

how can you get there?

- There’s two different energies coming through. For the first group, it seems to be that you focus a lot on validation and attention from others in regards to your career success, maybe even the financial stability that comes with it. You view your desired career as a means to get some type of recognition, status, class, or appreciation from other people. I feel for some of you in this group, you probably want to do your current career path only for the financial or status success. There’s too much focus on this part. In order to get to your desired career, you need to focus less on the superficial results and focus on your actual passion for the career. Passion and determination is what really gets you to where you want to be in life. Reconsider it if that’s the case. The results will be worth it, but only focusing on the results will take you away from doing the actual work that comes with it. For the second group, in order to get to your desired career, you need to put yourself and your brand out there. This is especially if you are a business owner or real estate agent. Build connections with others and gain more attention to pet others know about your work.

‎

what qualities do you bring to the table?

- One of the qualities that you bring to the table is your ability to create something beautiful. You are a very creative person who has a sense of art, beauty, and pleasure. This is particularly for the entrepreneurs, florists, and gardeners. Additionally, you are charming and know how to handle people. This is useful if your career requires socialization and gaining connections. You are also very likable and a good communicator.

‎

where can you find assistance?

- You are significantly blessed because I feel you can find assistance almost everywhere. Your spirit guides or higher self could be working behind the scenes to give you advice or help in the most casual ways; whether that be through the internet or conversations with family members. However, I believe it might be hard for you to find assistance is due to your ego or stubbornness. You might refuse to get help because you believe everything you do is right. It is okay to accept help. You’re not going to be perfect at everything you do on the first try. I feel there’s a particular older masculine energy in your life who may be pursuing the same career who can help.

‎

what needs attention?

- The thing that needs attention is, again, your stubbornness. There’s this refusal to learn from your mistakes as well as accept advice from other people. This may get in the way your potential and dream career success. For a particular group of you, you are also losing track of your workings and goals. It is important to get right back on track if any personal problems is what got in your way.

‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎

✧ pile 2 ✧

what is your dream career?

- Your dream career may be unconventional or a career that is doesn’t promise success most of the time. This pile is for the people who are desiring out of the usual career choices. Career such as a musician, rapper, business owner are appearing. For a significant group of you, I feel like you want to step into the adult industry. Perhaps your family or loved ones may not approve of what career you’re going after. They may think it’s not a reliable career or a career that is respectable enough. I highly believe whatever you want to do it is solely because of passion. Passion is all you really need.

‎ ‎

how can you get there?

- It is important to be regular with your efforts. I feel like consistency and constantly working on your effort is what will guarantee you success. This is especially if you are pursuing a music career or building up your agility to be a good dancer. There’s also the need for funding as well, there’s monetary importance coming through. If you are especially trying to run a business or pursue a music career, make sure to be more deliberate with your spendings. Save up your money in a special account just for your career efforts. Perhaps find investors or supporters in your personal life who are willing to fund your passions.

‎ ‎

what qualities do you bring to the table?

- You aren’t afraid to go against the grain, no matter if you are seen as a rebel or devil’s advocate to people. You are going to stay being a trailblazer and building your own path. You may have a unique look for a few of you. You also do not mind standing for other rebels or people who are scrutinized on for being different and standing out. Whether that be people who are pursuing the same career as you, or people who are trying to go against the grain in some way as well. You are an amazing supporter, and you get along with others. You know how to lift other’s up. Your confidence is definite.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

where can you find assistance?

- It is possible that you are used to being criticized or scrutinized for the things you choose to do with your life, so not to mention, you might have tons of haters. However, you might have a close knit group of loved ones whom you trust—maybe even friends. It seems to me what you need most is motivation apart from this scrutiny you receive. Stick around the people who supported you the most and you’re guaranteed to reach higher levels. You are someone who thrives better when you are around people who want the best for you.

‎ ‎

what needs attention?

- The thing that needs attention is where you spend your energy. You may be someone who strives to look after others or spend much time around certain energies or activities that aren’t necessarily good for you in the long run. However, it is important to savor your energy for your endeavors as well. For a few of you, there could be substance abuse problems, a toxic friend, etc. Whatever this energy may be, it is time to cut it off to go further in pursuing your dream career.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

✧ pile 3 ✧

what is your dream career?

- These are the natural born leaders, you are born to inspire or handle others. I’m getting this energy that you are someone who is well-rounded; you are talented in multiple areas and there are multiple careers you want to excel in. You are a jack-of-all-trades. Freelancing and job hopping might be something you are doing or considering right now. You might love the thought of curating your ideas into something physical and gaining success from it. Careers appearing is CEO, business person, ambassadors, marketing and advertisement. I’m also seeing a few of you have an interest in sports and want to become an athlete! Some of you might want to create and sell literal art such as paintings, digital drawings, etc. Most definitely what you are striving to become, you are 100% passionate about it. I am hearing you have lots of charisma.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

how can you get there?

- I feel like you need to allow yourself to think big. There is never a dream too unrealistic or impossible. It is okay to have huge goals for yourself. In order to get there, you need to learn how stop dimming your light in an effort to “humble yourself”—If you want to dream big and do great things, then go for it with no shame and apologies. Most importantly, connect with your inner child and make sure you are genuinely enjoying that process of creating art or perfecting your art. Do not take it too serious and have fun while improving. This is especially if you want to become an athlete or a literal artist.

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what qualities do you bring to the table?

- A special quality you bring to the table is your persistence and undeniable resilience. No matter what others say or what happens, you always pick yourself back up go after what is meant for you. For some of you, whatever you are going for in terms of your career, you may have been striving towards it for years. People wonder how you haven’t given up yet. You are also more afraid to try different routes even if it is not what you are accustomed to. There is this fearlessness and unapologetic courage that helps you with pursuing your dreams.

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where can you find assistance?

- There seems to be a need for balance in your life; this could be a balance between profession and pleasure. Some of you may be taking too much of a serious approach towards your success, and the other group might be lacking around too much. I feel there could be a female figure or feminine energy in your life who could accompany you and give you some pointers and motivation. This could be a mother, auntie, or grandma. For some of you, there could be a feminine energy that is no longer with you trying to communicate with you about pursuing your passion. They are trying to motivate and comfort you. They are trying to get you back on track or tell you to relax.

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what needs attention?

- Once again, there is a strong need to balance profession and pleasure. Most of you may be too serious in your approaches to your dreams to the point where you are ruining your love for it. It is possible you have only made the time to take on your passion during a time when you are trying to go after your career. It is important to make sure to enjoy your passion from personal moments as well. Enjoy your passion just for the sole purpose of being happy and getting in touch with who you are again. It doesn’t have to always be for your goals.

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✧ pile 4 ✧

what is your dream career?

- Your dream career is a career you most likely had dreams about being ever since you were a little kid. You are definitely passionate about it. Your career has themes related to traveling, airplanes, or being in the air. Career that are appearing is the military—(perhaps the air force), a travel/home nurse, or a pilot. I’m also getting that some of you loves exploring new cultures and traveling to different places and may want to become a tourist or travel/food blogger. There is the sense of freedom and happiness when it comes to this career you desire. You’d feel on the top of the world, figuratively or literally, if you pursued it. Others might want to become a therapist, regular nurse, psychologist, or something in the nursing area.

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how can you get there?

- Some of you may struggle with social anxiety and the fear of being far from home and your loved ones. One huge step you can take to get there is to break out of this fear or anxiety you have. This is most notable if you are definitely pursuing a career such as the military or travel because you are more than likely going to far from home and have to meet different types of people every day. If it helps, try to take small steps out of your comfort zone such as going to small parties, saying hi to people walking down the street, or being more active in social activities at work or school.

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what qualities do you bring to the table?

- You have this ability to soothe and comfort others, especially individuals who are grieving or going through deep troubles in life. This quality is beneficial if some of you want to become therapists. You have this talent of knowing how to analyze others and how they feel and find an exact way that can help them, and you might be a good communicator and know exactly what to say to calm others. Even if you are far away from your loved ones, you know how to make them you are right with them.

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where can you find assistance?

- There is particularly a younger person coming through. This may be a friend, sibling, cousin, or even a child in your family like a nephew or niece. This person has the power to inspire you to take leaps and go into the unknown with no fear and worry. This person is jovial and enthusiastic about life. They have the ability to change your morals and thought patterns entirely. They will truly uplift and encourage you when you communicate with them. They try to push you to step out of your shell and not be afraid of the consequences. They are a bit of a rebel though.

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what needs attention?

- The thing that needs attention is your guilty mindset and imposter syndrome. There is to be ashamed of in wanting to travel the world, explore your choices, or be far from where you came from. If you feel this is what is right for you, go for it. You might have a very supportive family who instead wants you to leave where you came from to grow and find yourself. It is important to battle that part of yourself that stops you from doing so because that may be gorilla greatest enemy. For another few of you, there may a certain person in your life who is guilt tripping you into not going for those dreams because you’ll be far away. Do not care for what they say, do what makes you happy. They do not control you. You cannot let them get in the way of what you you want to do. Some of you may even find a partnership while traveling or distancing from your hometown.

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[pamsimmer]

LUNAR PHASES CHALLENGE

My very first challenge and I'm excited? haha

When I was looking for occults challenge to play I found a lot of witches and vampire type of things, but I don't quite remember seeing a werewolf one.

These three occults are my favorites (unfortunately I kind of ignore the others because you know... meh, not as fun to play with them. But maybe one day I'll try to make a mermaid challenge)

Down here you're gonna find the rules and guidelines for each gen. You don't have to follow strictly the rules if you don't want to, I know it can be annoying sometimes. And also I made it short for those who prefer shorter challenges (like me).

I just hope you have fun!

[edit: a friend made the graphic rules and it looks amazing. if you prefer it like this: HERE]

Rules:

You must reside only in the occults’s worlds, but preferably in Moonwood Mill (You can always kick your family out and pretend you’re living in another place hehe)

Start as YA, any gender

You can use cheats if you want.

Heir must be a werewolf

Normal or Long Lifespan

You don’t have to max all these skills, but it would be nice if you at least worked on them all your sims lives

When I put ( / ) is because you can choose what you prefer or if you don’t have said pack you can choose the base game one.

Requirements: Werewolves, Snowy Scape, Get Together, Get To Work

GENERATION 1: Waxing Crescent

You grew up close to the Moonwood Collective, they are basically your family and you learned how to be a good sim and not hurt others. You prefer to lock yourself up than to behave like an animal in front of others. You always loved art/writing and your hobby is to play piano. You don’t like the spotlight because of your werewolf tendencies, so you chose a more “reclusive” career.

Traits: Proper/Snob, Bookworm, Good

Aspiration: The Emissary of the Collective

Skills: Charisma, Piano/Painting, Writing

Career: Painter or Writer (It can be the freelance career if you prefer)

Volunteer with family (or alone) at least once a week

Your partner can be any gender, can be human or even another type of occult, as long as the heir is a werewof.

Get married to your partner and never divorce. You two were made for each other

GENERATION 2: Waning Gibbous

Your parents wanted you to be as perfect as they are, but you’re not them. You have your own personality and your own desires. You’re a rebel. You love being a werewolf and you feel powerful when you show others who you are. The only thing you got from your parent was the love for music, but you are more of a guitar type of sim. And you want to be the leader of your own pack.

Traits: Mean, Active, Kleptomaniac

Aspiration: Wildfang Renegade

Skills: Mischief, Fitness, Guitar

Career: Criminal or perform only odd jobs and have a part time job

Meet your friends at the bar every weekend

Have a “fight club” club

Get pregnant/get your girlfriend pregnant as a teen (if your sim is a boy: don’t assume the responsability / if your sim is a girl: give the baby to someone else. you can keep the child close to you if you want to play with them later, in case it’s a werewolf)

Get married as a Young Adult and divorce before become an Adult. You can find love again, but if you don’t, that’s okay. (preferably die alone :)

One day your sims is gonna teach their teen kid (the heir) how to fight. You’re take them to Greg and let them fight Greg… alone.

GENERATION 3: Full Moon

You never got along with your parent. You actually hate them. You prefer to be alone, you’re like a hurt puppy that attacks others who tries to come closer to you. But you’re very sweet on the inside. And finally one day you find the love of your life and you have a beautiful family together.

Traits: Loner, Gloomy, Hot-Headed

Aspiration: Lone Wolf

Skills: Gardening, Handiness, Fishing

Career: Gardner or Fisherman (and perform odd jobs)

If you chose gardner: go fishing every weekend, if you chose fisherman: have a garden

Live off the grid, at least until you get married (after that you can go back to society again if you want to. But it’s not mandatory)

Have at least two kids

GENERATION 4: New Moon

You grew up in a loving family. You have so many plans for your life, but you don’t want to be a werewolf forever. You spent your teenager years reading werewolf books and you got the Lunar Epiphany and learned how to make the cure. Maybe you’re the one who breaks the family’s curse, right? and you want to be a super parent because your own parent inspired you.

Traits: Genius, Family-Oriented, Loyal

Aspiration: Cure Seeker

Skills: Logic, Parenting, Baking/Gourmet Cooking

Career: Doctor/Astrounaut

Find love when you are already a human and be the best parent you can be!

Go out on dates at least once a week with your partner, and when you have a child go out at least once a week with your family.

[keeksandgigz]

Chapter 1: Les Usurpateurs

Part 1 of Words are Futile Devices- A Steddie x Reader Call Me By Your Name AU

Somewhere in Northern Italy, 1983

cw: ~3k words, no smut (yet), EVERYONE IS OF AGE!!!, a lot of unnecessary description for the vibes, reader is a bit of a cunt

notes: I'm back (I think)

Despite the lack of smut in this chapter, this and all my works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

There was something of a quiet intimacy in hearing the summer sparrows in the morning. Nothing but the gentle hum and chirp buried in the ripe peach trees. Thus marking the beginning of your yearly summer stay in Italy, of doing nothing but lounge around and savor the crickets at night, lying down on the couch of the villa your mother had inherited from her great grandparents. 

What you liked about your summers in Italy was that time seemed to go slower, at your leisure, spending it between the lake with your friends, the town just a short bike ride away or staying home buried in the pile of books you had brought over just to keep in your room, a bit overgrown, but unable to make it “too yours” because of the guests you’d have to concede your room to a mere four weeks after your arrival at the villa. 

Every summer, your father would host literature and art history students at the villa, aspiring professors, authors, archeologists, to help with their dissertations. They’d come with their american ways, obnoxiously disturbing the peace that you had created for yourself in the idyllic world you’d surrounded yourself into. Like that was a different astral plane you’d projected into, with the same friends as always, the same views, the same places to go. A different guest you’d have to surrender your room to for ten weeks, while you were banished to the communicating room, divided only by a shared bathroom. A small twin bed, an old desk and chair, a big enough window to let a good amount of light in, so you don’t suffocate and turn into a vampire. You despised that room. 

They always arrived on the first day of July, when the weather seemed to turn from needing a light pair of jeans in the evening  to clothes being unbearable. If you were in your room you’d limit yourself to a long enough shirt to keep you decent for the ghosts in the villa. There were no ghosts, but Giovanna, the housekeeper, would pop in from time to time to drop off your clothes– washed, ironed and folded. They smelled like citrus. 

You were reading The Count of Monte Cristo when the guest arrived. The rippling sounds of the gravel under the heavy tires of the car sounding like an alarm. You placed your book face down on the page you had been reading and ran to the window. Curious to see what the tide had brought this year. Maybe someone whose English wasn’t very good. Or some lunatic who could only stay inside because of his pollen allergy. You wondered what they would have looked like. Tall? Ugly? Obnoxious in the sense where you could hear them play shuffle and slam and bang doors and cabinets and drawers in the morning when getting ready? 

The car came to a stop in front of the door, right under the window of your room. The driver’s door opened, Giuseppe, the groundskeeper of the villa went around to open the trunk. Your heart thumped as you saw the passenger door open. It was a man. He was wearing a pair of white linen shorts, a blue flouncy short sleeve button- up shirt and gold- rimmed glasses. He pushed them up as he placed two hands on his hips, quickly removing one in favor of running his hands through his hair, styled and coiffed like he had not just come off an eight- hour flight. 

“You must be…” You’d heard your father say, placing a finger on his bearded chin, the name of the boy must have slipped him. 

“Steve. Piacere” the boy said, in an Americanized Italian, sounding like he had a hot potato in his mouth. 

“Ah! Steve, Benvenuto” your father said, bidding his welcome and shaking the boy’s hand. Your mother extended a delicate hand as well, introducing herself with a bright smile. At the same time, the opposite passenger door opened. Another boy. 

This one had long, frizzy hair. His face was framed by the bangs that stuck on his forehead. He was wearing a black t- shirt of a band you’d never heard of before tucked inside a pair of cutoff denim shorts held up by a belt, a chain clinking at the boy’s side as he stepped off the car. He wouldn’t let Giuseppe take his bags, insisting he could have done it himself. 

Your father followed the boy with his eyes as he carried what appeared to be a duffel bag and a beat up suitcase towards your father. 

“And this must be Eddie, then” your father said, as Eddie released his suitcase to shake your father’s hand. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” the boy said, and from this new angle you could see that he sported three chunky rings on his left hand and a chain necklace around his neck. Your father saw you peeking out the window and motioned for you to come down. 

“Shall we go inside? Show you around before dinner?” He motioned towards the boys as Eddie picked his stuff up once again and followed inside. You rolled your eyes. That was your cue to put on some pants and come downstairs. 

Your father’s office was just on the right at the bottom of the stairs, as you hopped down the marble steps. You heard chatter. 

“Oh there she is” you heard your father announce as you leaned against the doorframe of his office. You tended to dislike his theatrics “Boys, this is my daughter” the two guests turned around, reaching their hands to squeeze yours, as you firmly told them your name. 

“Hey, I’m Steve,” he said, fixing his glasses with his other hand. He was soft, but his handshake was firm. Hands bigger than yours. 

“You’re the archeology and history nerd” you quipped, a slight curl of your mouth followed it. 

Steve didn’t seem to like the name, as he let go of your hand, mouth in a straight line. Embarrassed. Put off. You needed them to know that they weren’t welcome here. 

“Hey, what’s up I’m Eddie” the other guy said. His hand was much more rougher and calloused than Steve’s, likely a guitarist. 

“You’re the soon to be failed author?” you tilted your head at him,

 you tilted your head at him, you heard your mother gasp, the indignation dripping from her mouth as she said your name. Eddie chuckled, a bit taken aback, but amused. 

“How do you like daddy’s money, hm?” It was your turn to be indignant. You heard your father snicker behind the boy, followed by Steve. Your hand brusquely retracted from Eddie’s, as your mother poured springs of apologies on your behalf. 

“She’s not like this, usually,” your mother said. Which was a lie. You were always like this. Rude, witty, sour. 

You heard the disappointment in your dad’s tone “Go show them their room” he said, an intimation for you to leave. 

“Make yourselves at home,” he said, before you guided them back upstairs. 

Eddie huffed up the stairs. You didn’t offer to take his bags, as he seemed to not need nor want any help. 

You opened the large pinewood door. 

“You guys are gonna sleep in here. This is my room, but it’s gonna be yours for the rest of your stay. I’m gonna be in the next room over. Unfortunately we’ll have to share a bathroom” You could see sleep calling to them, as their eyes opened and closed slowly at the sight of a made bed. 

Eddie dropped his bags and thumped on the bed, sleep immediately overtaking him. 

“You have to excuse him, this is the first time he’s traveled outside of the States,” Steve said, sitting on the bed, leaning to take his shoes off. 

“Nervous or what?” you asked, examining your bookcase in case you wanted to steal a book to take to your room. 

“Just not as lucky as many” Steve shrugged, laying himself down on the mattress “this is his big shot. If your dad likes his stuff it’s all uphill from here” Steve groans, voice full of sleep “thanks for lending us your room, let us know when dinner is.”

And that was that. The boy fell into the arms of slumber.  

And when Giovanna rang the bell to announce dinnertime, once again you peeled yourself away from The Count of Monte Cristo. You wondered if they were still sleeping. 

You wandered into the bathroom and towards the door as you shot a quick look at the two sleeping bodies on the bed. Eddie was snoring. You were unsure if you should have woken them up. 

You toyed with the bathroom door, swinging it between your hands. A grin decorated your face as you decided to slam it. Steve jumped awake, annoyed and scared. 

“Dinner’s ready” you muttered, reaching for the handle of the door. 

“I’ll pass, thanks” Steve said, shaking Eddie from his almost comatose state. The boy mumbled a semi- discernible “huh?” 

“Dinner, Ed. ��m not going, but you can feel free to” Steve said to the other, but he just turned around and sleepily muttered an “‘mgood, thanks.”

“He’s good. We’ll apologize to your mother in the morning” Steve said, laying back down, ignoring you completely. 

Where’s my apology? 

You were thankful for the lack of guests at dinner. That way you were able to silently eat and then slither back into your room. Back into your book. Lulled by the crickets, and the whisper of the trees in the weak evening breeze. You ended up falling asleep. 

In the morning, Steve was already outside having breakfast with your parents. He looked like he had showered, but you didn’t recall the faint sound of the water running. He was wearing another pair of shorts, another flouncy shirt. Fumbling with a slice of toast, buttered with jam as he talked to your father about the morning paper. 

“This is gorgeous by the way” Steve admitted, looking around “your orchard?” he looked at your mother, who was smiling proudly at the compliment. 

“We grow a lot of fruit here, Giovanna makes apricot juice fresh every day” she smiled, biting into a slice of bread.

“You had a lot to say yesterday, now you’re a quiet little mouse?” your father teased, elbowing you lightly as you rolled your eyes. 

“It’s okay, she apologized” Steve said, an assuring look in his eyes “she didn’t mean that stuff. She told me, it’s just her welcome wagon” he chuckled, and you felt yourself grow red. Why would he save you like that?

Eddie popped out from the door, hair in a bun, changed out of his shirt in favor for a new one. 

“You should show them around some time, dear. Take them into town, maybe at the lake, I hope your father is not gonna keep them cooped up in his office for ten weeks” your mother giggled. 

“Yeah, no we’d love that. Maybe I’ll get some inspiration for the book” Eddie sat down at the breakfast table, between you and Steve as he fumbled with a soft boiled egg Giovanna had to crack open for him. Embarrassment was veiled on his face. 

You looked at his ringed hands, fumble with the small spoon. Did it always look so small? 

“We’re not gonna start until the beginning of the week, but I might ask you to go get some supplies into town today and take these two with you. Eddie’s gonna need some nice paper for his typewriter, won’t you?” your father gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder, at which he smiled. 

“Have another egg” your mother encouraged the boys. Eddie dug into the pot again, getting more confident with the way he spread the runny yolk on a slice of toast. Some of the runny egg dripped in between his fingers.

Just not as lucky as many.

Steve passed. “I know myself too well, if I have a second, I’ll just have a third and a fourth and a fifth and then I’m just gonna have to get rolled outta here” he joked. I know myself. Self- assured, cocky. You wondered what it felt like to really know yourself, to have everything figured out like he did. 

You lent Steve Giuseppe’s old bike, Eddie got an old one of yours, the squeaky rusted tires alerting the two strangers’ presence. You were afraid you would have been pressured into giving one of them your own bike, seeing as you had already surrendered all of your possessions to them. 

It was a pleasant day. Not too incredibly hot to be embarrassed if the two boys were to see you, face riddled with uncomfortable beads of sweat, breath heaving irregularly from the dry air of July. Instead, a nice breeze came through the mountains, as you debated on going for a swim later in the day. 

That’s what you liked about your summers there. A swimsuit was always the wardrobe of choice under your summer clothes, the freedom to subsist in a plane of existence where your obligations began and ended within the span of a few miles of green grass and honeysuckle flowers. 

The two boys followed you down the graveled road into town, which seemed to be deserted, families abandoning their houses in favor of driving to the beach for the weekend. 

You asked them if they wanted to get a coffee, as you dismounted your bikes and parked them in front of a coffee place. 

You sat outside as you sipped from your espresso cups. 

“So” Steve broke the silence “What does one do around here?” you put down your book, the device you so desperately tried to ignore them with, trying to drown them out. 

“Wait for the summer to end” you mumbled carelessly, going back to the words on the page.

“Ok and then in the winter you wait for the summer to start?” Eddie snickered. 

“Seriously though, what do you do here the whole summer?” Steve interrupted, taking you away from your book again, as you tossed it on the table. 

“I read, mostly. Play music, swim at the lake, go out” you huffed out annoyedly, reaching for the book. Eddie preceded you.

“Kafka? What happened to Monte Cristo?” he flicked through the yellowed pages.

“I finished it. How’d you know I was reading that?” you snatched the book back from his hands. 

“It was on your bed before I slammed onto it. You should read something a bit more substantial,” he said “Kafka isn’t gonna teach you shit, why don’t you read Dorian Grey instead?” it annoyed you how patronizing his tone was. 

“I read that last year, thanks for the help” you retorted, taking the book back from him with a roll of your eyes. 

“Your dad seemed to make it abundantly clear that you need to be nice to us” Steve intervened, whining like a petulant child. 

“Or what? You’ll snitch on me?” you snapped, the two boys looking at each other. 

“Listen, sweetheart,” your nose curled at the nickname, “we’re not your enemies or whatever you think you’ve made us out to be. We really don’t want to be a nuisance to you” nothing about what he said seemed sincere. You rolled your eyes in response.

“Well,” Steve stood up from the metal chair with a violent noise, Eddie following suit “we’ll see you later,” as the both of them mounted their bikes and left. The creaking noises of the rusty old bikes followed in their pedaling. 

They finally got the hint. 

You spent the rest of your day at the lake, not really in a mood to interact with Chiara or Alessandro, two of your longtime friends. Instead, you made the slushing of the water current your friend, staring at the words on the page. Meaningless words. Kafka didn’t seem so enticing after all. 

When you got home it went back on the dusty shelf. Your hand lingered on the spine of Dorian Grey for a moment. The cover was brown and worn, it was your mother’s before it became yours, your heart picked up at the words on the spine, gold lettering. You thought about what Eddie had said earlier. 

You picked up Heart of Darkness instead. 

tagging: @littlexdeaths, @xxbimbobunnyxx, @aphrogeneias, @rowanswriting, @stveharringtn, @impmunson, @strangerstilinski, @lavendermunson, @rebelfell, @bimbobaggins69, @cryingglightningg, @thornsnvultures, @jamdoughnutmagician, @take-everything-you-can, @eddiesxangel, @ali-r3n, @emxxblog, @corrodedcoffincumslut, @str4ngergirlw0rld, @yujyujj, @gregre369, @subconsciouscollapse, @aol19, @cooljadejacksonthings, @maeneedsabreak, @eddiesguitarskills, @freak-of-hawkins, @eddiesghxst

[im-josh-b]

Job Legacy Challenge Rules:

MUST USE ONLY THE SAME PLOT FOR WHOLE CHALLENGE.(Doesnt mean you cannot change house for each gen),

2.DOESNT MATTER WHAT GENDER THE HEIR ARE,

3.THIS IS A BASE GAME LEGACY CHALLENGE DO NOT NEED ANY PACKS TO COMPLETE,

4.YOU MUST MAX EACH JOB,

5.ONLY ONE CHILD PER GEN (if you have twins triplets etc, you must move them out of your lot and continue with your heir of choice, 6.MUST COMPLETE THE ASPIRATION OF EACH GENERATION. Now Time For The Generations:

Generation 1-Barista! The first gen is the barista career, Your dream is to be the best barista in the sim world Aspiration: Master Mixoligist Traits: Clumsy, Outgoing, Loyal MUST: Max Mixoligy Skill

Generation 2-Criminal (Boss Branch)! Your the child of a master barista but you dont like the goodness and kindness of your family, Unlike your barista parent your not telling people to have a nice day… no no no you are going to be turning to a life of crime an d want most sims to hate you. Aspiration: Public Enemy Traits: Evil, Kleptomaniac, Non committal MUST: Have 3 failed marriges with the fourth being the parent to next gen, Max Mischief Skill.

Generation 3-Buisness (Management)! Unlike your criminal parent you want to be more like your Grandparent and be kind to people, Your a buisness man/woman living your best life working in the office and having many friends. Aspiration: Renaissance Sim Traits: Good, Family Orrientated, Neat MUST:Max Writing Skill

Generation 4-Astronaut (Space Ranger)! In your childhood you dream of flying to space andexploring new worlds and galaxies, Your buisness parent for your birthday when turning into a teen buys you your very own rocket in the garden. Aspiration: The Curartor Traits: Genius, Loces Outdoors, perfectionist MUST: Max your fitness skill, Get married during the night with no guests and exchange vowls under the stars

Generation 5-Style Influencer (Trend Setter)! You wanna be popular in the world, Your gonna be popular but a heartbraker at the same time taking after your criminal ancestor. Aspiration: Friend of the World Traits: Cheerful, Self Assured, Romantic MUST: Break 5 Hearts and Marry The Sixth Have 3 best friends by being Young Adult

Generation 6-Painter (Patron of the Arts)! You love art and want a wall in your house dedicated to your paintings, You want a wedding in a museum. Apiration: Painter Extrodinare Traits: Cheerful, Creative, Art Lover MUST: Max Painting Skill

Generation 7-Freelancer (Artist)! Growing up with a painting obsessed parent you have naturally gained a liking for painting and want to make a buisness out of it, You only start painting when becoming a young adult where your parent finally lets you touch their paint supplies. Aspiration: Painter Extrodinare Traits: Art Lover, Creative, Childish MUST: Your child must not see the paintings you create and dont let them gain a liking for painting.

Generation 8-Writer (Author)! Since you were not allowed to get into painting you get into writing instead, You dream of being a world famous author and making books as big as harry potter. Aspiration: Best Selling Author Traits: Neat, Pefectionist, Bookworm MUST: Have made atleast 10,000 Simoliens of off books in your lifetime

Generation 9-Tech Guru (eSport Gamer)! Unlike any of your ancestors you want to be a world famous gamer and have many who want to become just like you. Your goal in life is to make a living off of playing games. Aspiration: Computer Whiz Traits: Geek, Lazy, Materalistic MUST: Max Gaming Skill

Generation Ten-"Final generation"-Baby Sitter! You love kids and want the best for them in their lives therefore you spend your weekdays spending time with your familky and sacrifice your weekends to help fellow parents have a break from kids, Aspiration: Big Happy Family Traits: Family Oriented, Good, Outgoing

!!!CONGRATS!!! YOU HAVE JUST COMPLETED THE JOB LEGACY CHALLENGE!!! If you want to continue with your save file i recommend going from generation one to generation 10 again but the next ten never knew about the previous 10 that they turn out just like!!! Thank you for completing my Legacy challenge an dhope you enjoyed playing -Josh

[svp3rrn0va]

The Artist & The Muse (NSFW)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: MC is an aspiring artist. She talks to her close friend, Sebastian, about her hobby and how she wants to practice painting anatomy. He offers to be her nude model, and MC can't help but admire his body in more ways than one.

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, body worship, foreplay, oral m!rec, unprotected sex, praise kink

Word Count: 4,748

You sigh as you struggle to focus on your book amidst the chatter of your peers around you. Out of anywhere you could've chosen to read, you chose the fountain in the literal epicenter of the castle. Central Hall seemed to be absolutely packed at any point of the day before curfew. It doesn't help that the content you're trying to read is already a bit confusing for you.

To your left, there is a group of friends cheering for a 2nd-year Gryffindor as he walks up the wall. Any moment now, you think to yourself. Just then, as if he'd read your mind, he falls to the floor with a shriek. Thankfully for him, one of his friends cast a charm so he wouldn't hit the hard floor below him.

They all began to laugh really loudly, and that was your last straw. Just as you were about to turn to them and scold them for picking such a crowded area to do something so dangerous, your friend Sebastian Sallow approaches you and sits beside you on the fountain with a smile. You give him a sigh that means "oh, hello."

"What are you reading?" he asks, his head pointing toward your book.

"It's an art book," you reply, closing it and placing it in your lap. "Although I can't get much reading done with all this noise."

Sebastian chuckles. "You're surprised you can't pay attention to your book in Central Hall?" You roll your eyes.

"Also, I didn't know you were into art."

"Yes," you say with a hint of shyness. "I paint, actually."

Sebastian's eyes light up. "You paint? I can't believe you've never told me this before!"

He was right. It was a rather ridiculous notion that you kept something like that from him. You actually kept that from a lot of people. Not because painting is such an embarrassing hobby, but because you're still learning, and you haven't felt ready to show your work to people yet. You've always had a tendency to be hard on yourself.

"Here and there I do; I don't really take it that seriously." That was a lie. Of course you see yourself having a career within the wizarding world, but you would also like to have a career as an artist in the muggle world, perhaps under an alias.

"Even so, I bet you're really good at it. You're good at everything." Sebastian says with a smile.

You scoff. "You're only saying that to be nice."

"No, I mean it! You're the smartest person I know, besides me, of course," he smirks.

You scoff and nudge his arm playfully, and you stand up. "On that note, I'm going to go to my room and read where it's peaceful."

Sebastian quickly stands up as well. "Your room? Your room of requirement? Is that where you paint?" You sigh, and Sebastian acts like a kid in a candy store. "I bet it is! I want to see them."

"You want to see my paintings?" you ask.

"Of course! You can't tell me that you paint and not expect me to want to see them."

You swallow, and you feel your nerves building up. You've never shown anyone outside your family your paintings.

"You're not going to let this go until I show you, will you?" you ask, already knowing his answer. Sebastian shakes his head, and you sigh. "Fine. But don't laugh at me. They aren't great."

"That's subjective. Besides, even if I were to not think they're great, I want to support you regardless. That's what friends are for, anyway." He says softly.

You smile, feeling touched by his words, and it makes you feel more relaxed.

***

You open the door to your room of requirement and Sebastian looks around in amazement. The room is quite large, and you've made yourself a nice, personal space. You've got a large bed, a large desk for your assignments, massive bookshelves filled with books, potting tables, and of course, your painting area with everything you'd need.

"Wow, if this were my room of requirement, I'd never leave," he says, taking a seat on the sofa by the fireplace.

"What's in your room of requirement?" you ask.

"I don't have one. I just spend all my alone time in the Undercroft."

You laugh, not understanding how he could choose a room like that over a room where he could have absolutely anything he wanted. Sebastian turns around on the sofa and looks toward your painting station, his smile dropping when he sees that the only visible canvas is blank.

"I thought you had paintings in here," he said with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"I do," you say as you walk towards the bed. You open up the chest at the foot of the bed. "They're in here."

Sebastian quickly gets up and walks over to you, peering inside the chest to see three canvases facing down.

"May I?" he asks, looking up at you as he leans down to grab them.

You nod and take a deep breath as he pulls the canvases out of the chest and looks through them.

One is of the Scottish coast, with beautiful cliffs overlooking the sea. The second is a view of the night sky from what appears to be the observation deck in the astronomy tower. The third is your cat lying on your windowsill, looking at sheep passing by in the fields outside.

You chew on your lip as you watch Sebastian's face, trying to decipher from his expression whether he likes the paintings or not. It's a bit hard to tell, and he's silent. You begin to get antsy.

"Well?" you ask impatiently.

"These are-" he begins before once again going quiet as he keeps alternating between the paintings. You groan.

"Do you have to be so dramatic? Please tell me what you think!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sebastian says, snapping out of his trance. "I'm just speechless. These are amazing! I can't believe you said they aren't great!"

You raise your eyebrows. "Really? You think so?"

"Of course! I'm not a painter, so I can't use technical terms, but you're very good at blending the gradients in the sky, and the water in this one, just look at the way you did the bubbles on the crashing waves! You're really underestimating yourself."

You can't help but smile, and you look at the floor, blushing. "Thank you, Sebastian. That means a lot."

"You should be proud, really," he says as he gently places the canvases back into the chest. "What art book were you reading, exactly? Judging by these paintings, you shouldn't have much more to learn. You're already great."

"Alright, alright, you're flattering me too much now," you laugh. "It was an anatomy book. I've had enough practice painting landscapes and animals; I don't have enough practice painting humans."

"Well, why not just try doing it instead of trying to learn from a book first?" he asked.

"That's the thing," you say, and you feel your face getting warm. "I could handle painting people with clothes on, but I've always been inspired by art from the Italian Renaissance. I'd like to recreate that style."

"Well? What's wrong with that?"

"A lot of famous paintings from that time depict nude people," you bluntly reply.

"Oh," Sebastian says, clearing his throat. "You want to do a nude painting?"

"I'd like to try and make a painting in that style, yes," you chuckle nervously. "I just would like to get a hang of human anatomy before I even attempt to recreate a Renaissance piece. But asking someone to pose for that is-"

"I'll do it."

You weren't sure if you heard him correctly. "You what?"

"I said I'll do it." He has to be joking, right? But he looks completely serious and doesn't look unsure at all.

"You'll... you'll pose nude for me?" you ask, whispering the last few words as though someone can hear.

"Why not? We're close; I trust you. And I'd be honoured to help you get some practice. Unless you'd prefer to paint a female body."

"No, no, it doesn't matter to me. But are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have mentioned it if I wasn't," he shrugs.

You stand there and sigh, still surprised by Sebastian's sudden offer. Despite his offering, you don't want to put him in an awkward situation, but it also saves you from any future awkward situations of finding someone to pose nude for you.

"If you're comfortable with it, then alright. We've got time before class, so we could do a bit now, if you'd like." You say.

"I don't mind," he says, looking around the room. "Where would you like me to be?"

"You can be on the bed so you're on a soft surface." You grab your easel and blank canvas along with a chair, and you move them both across from the bed. "And I will be here."

Sebastian nods, and you make your way back to the table to gather all of your brushes and paints to use for the canvas. You grab your mug, and with a quick cast of Aguamenti, you've got a full water mug ready for you to clean your brushes.

When you turn around and catch sight of Sebastian, you nearly drop everything in your hands when you see he's already fully naked, standing by the bed.

"Are you alright?" he asks, chuckling.

"Sorry," Your face was burning hot at this point. You clear your throat. "I just didn't expect you to get undressed so quickly."

"I didn't mean to shock you," he says, looking at the bed. "How would you like me to pose?"

"Erm," you hesitate as you try your best to keep your eyes on his and not focus on his lower region. "You can lay on your side with your hand resting on your head, one leg propped up? That way I can see... erm... everything."

Sebastian nods and climbs onto the bed, getting into the pose you asked him to. You place all your paints and brushes in front of you, trying to ignore the blood in your cheeks and your heartbeat. You've seen a man naked before, but you've known Sebastian for a long time and had never been intimate with him, so you weren't sure how to feel.

"How's this?" he asks. You look to the bed, and he's laying in the correct pose, although his leg was tilted a bit downward, so you couldn't see his privates well.

"That's alright, but if you lift your leg up a bit more, then it's perfect."

He listens. He lifts up his leg so his knee's pointed directly towards the ceiling, and you see it. Your breath stops for a few seconds.

It's quite... big. Thick, but not too thick. It's more long than thick. You quickly peel your eyes away to not make him think you're staring. You begin to paint his head, and you notice your hand is shaking. You shut your eyes and clear your throat again to try to clear your thoughts.

"Are you comfortable like that?" you ask, trying to make conversation and feel more relaxed.

"I am," he responds casually. "This room is amazing. It conjured up a much cozier bed than what we've got in all the dorms!"

"I know," you reply. "I actually don't sleep in it much, though."

"Well, you should," he says. "I reckon you'd be the most well-rested person in the castle!" He moves his arm and head a lot as he speaks, making you struggle.

"Try not to move too much," you instruct him. He nods, quietly apologising.

You begin painting his lips, and you try to focus on his face, but it's very difficult. Your eyes have a mind of their own, and they keep trailing down to his length. You swallow hard as the light from the fireplace allows you to clearly see, even from that distance, the veins along it.

Sebastian seems to be unaware of your attention as he looks around the room while you paint.

It's no secret that Sebastian is a very attractive man. You and many other girls in the castle can agree on that. However, the fact that he feels comfortable enough with his body to agree to do this for you somehow makes him much more attractive to you.

You admittedly feel a bit entranced by him in this moment. You've never felt this way for him, so it's a surprise. In fact, you're so entranced that you almost didn't notice the heat from your cheeks sinking to your lower region as well.

No. No, now is not the time for this, you think to yourself. As you feel the heat turning into a slight throb, you clench your thighs together, trying to get the feeling to go away. You somehow manage to finish his head and hair, and it looks good.

As you begin to paint his torso, that's when you notice how toned he is, and how his freckles aren't just on his face. You begin to sweat, and the throbbing you feel doesn't get any better. You feel it even more this time. You gently take your hand and place it in between your thighs, closing them around it.

You shift in your seat and Sebastian turns his attention towards you.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his eyebrow raised.

You struggle to find words, and you quickly nod your head as you chew nervously on your bottom lip.

Sebastian begins to eye you as you insist on keeping your attention on your canvas. He sees your hand between your thighs and your fingers digging into the skin of one of them. When he looks up at your face, he can see how red your cheeks are and how aggressively you're chewing your lip.

"No really, are you alright? You seem flustered-"

"I'm fine, Sebastian," you snap. Unbeknownst to you, Sebastian knows better. He can tell by the way you can't sit still. He can tell by the way you're clawing at your skin. He can tell by the red of your cheeks. You're turned on, and he knows it. He just chooses to play coy.

You begin to paint his beautifully broad shoulders. Merlin, these intrusive thoughts. Get out of here! You almost don't want to look at him again, but you have to. As you take another look at Sebastian, your eyes quickly dart down to his length once again, and that's when you notice it.

He's getting hard.

You immediately stand up and start putting everything away.

"I'm sorry, this wasn't really a good idea. I really appreciate you offering to help, though," you say, almost too quick for him to understand.

"What? What's wrong?" Sebastian asks, getting out of his pose and sitting upright.

"This just feels too wrong. I didn't want there to be tension, I thought this would just be-"

"Tension?" he asks again, looking down to notice the obvious tension as well. "Oh shit."

You put away the easel and chair and begin to nervously pace.

"Again I appreciate you doing this for me but I'll just look for another model. Just put your clothes back on and we can act like this didn't happen, alright? I'll see you in class." You try to rush out of the room when you feel Sebastian grab your wrist.

You turn around in surprise as you didn't even notice him get up from the bed and walk towards you in your frantic state. You look down at all his glory once again before meeting his gaze.

"There's nothing wrong with it if you like what you see, you know," he says, his voice lowered. Your breathing speeds up.

"I-I don't know what- what you mean," you stammer.

"I've known you for a while," he smirks. "You've never been discreet, and you certainly aren't now."

He keeps his eyes fixed on you, and you can't pull yours away.

"Tell me what's on your mind." He licks his lips and you can practically hear your heartbeat in your ears.

"Y- your body," you say so quietly it's almost a whisper.

"What about it?" he asks softly.

"It's so beautiful."

"Beautiful in an artistic way? Like you want to paint it?" he asks, his eyebrows raised. You can tell that he is trying to get more out of you.

You hesitate and lick your lips before answering. "Yes, but, not just paint it."

"What else?" he whispers, and you can't help but whimper slightly at his voice.

"I want to touch it," your eyes begin to trail down his body again. "And kiss it..."

Sebastian, still holding onto your wrist, gently brings your hand up to his chest. You shiver as you touch his skin and he slides your hand down his torso.

"You mean like this?" He asks. You nod.

"And you want to kiss it?" He asks again. You nod again.

He chuckles and he interlocks his fingers with yours. He takes his other hand and places it behind your neck, pulling you in and crashing his lips to yours. As soon as your lips touch, you feel all of your nerves go away. All you want is him.

You run your hand through his hair and moan into his mouth. He smiles against your lips and waits for you to open your mouth just a little before he adds his tongue.

You pull away from the kiss with a gentle bite of his lower lip. He looks at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. Then you lean in and kiss his jawline, down to his neck.

A soft "mmm" comes from Sebastian and you smile as your kisses travel lower down to his collarbone all the way to his bellybutton.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Sebastian growls.

You're on your knees at this point, and you look up at him with a look of surprise at his words. You had no idea Sebastian felt that way about you, but you weren't complaining.

"I think I have an idea," you reply, eyeing his erection in front of you.

"May I?" You repeat his question from earlier as you guide your hand towards his cock, glancing at him for permission. He nods and you place your hand on it, swirling your thumb around his shaft.

Sebastian hisses and you smile, before leaning forward and licking his tip as you begin to pump his dick with your hand.

"Oh god," he groans, throwing his head back. "That's perfect." He grabs onto your hair as you start bobbing up and down on his cock, pumping the rest with your hand.

You aren't quiet either. You make sure to slurp and gag as you take his length as far back into your throat as you can. He obviously loves it, too, as his legs shake and he moans with each gag.

"God damn, is there anything you're not good at?" Sebastian asks as his voice cracks, an indication to you that he may not last much longer.

You begin to massage his balls and he tugs harder on your hair. As you suck him off, you gradually use more tongue, and you can just feel his veins against your tongue from how prominent they are, and you love it.

"You're gonna make me cum," he whimpers. "Do you want to swallow it?"

"Mm-hmm," you reply, not taking your mouth off him. Anxious for his release, you begin to pick up the pace, just as he begins to thrust himself into your mouth. At this point your pussy is throbbing like crazy, and you take your hand from his balls to try to rub yourself through your underwear. Unfortunately, the hem of your pants are too tight.

"Oh that feels so good," he moans, and with one final thrust, you feel his cock twitch and he releases his load into your throat.

You giggle with satisfaction as the warm liquid fills your mouth. Once he pulls away, you swallow as if you've just had a nice, refreshing glass of water.

"Come here," Sebastian says as he takes your wrist again and pulls you to your feet, pulling you into another passionate kiss. You two begin to walk backwards while you kiss, not paying much attention to where you're going.

Next thing you know you collide with your painting table, and you press your hand onto something wet. You turn around and begin to laugh as you notice your hand landed directly on your painting palette.

"Oh, I'm sorry," says Sebastian, laughing as well.

"That's alright." You place your paint covered hand on his cheek and kiss him again, his eyes widening.

"Hey!" He exclaims against your mouth. You pull away and giggle once again as you see a handprint on the side of his face. Then an idea comes into your head.

Sebastian watches in confusion as you put both hands on the painting palette. You turn around, biting your lip as you slide your hands down his body, covering him in paint.

"What is this?" he grins.

"You're my art project," you laugh. "And I just want to keep touching you."

"It's my turn to touch you now," he growls. He begins to undo your pants, and you arch your back off the table so it's easier for him to pull them down.

He removes your pants and to your surprise, you've gotten so wet, you can see it through your underwear.

"And you tried to be discreet," he says with a smirk. "Tsk tsk tsk."

He slides one finger along your cloth covered slit and you gasp. You prop one leg up on the chair beside you to give him better access.

"Oh, we're eager, aren't we?" he whispers right next to your ear. You shiver. "You're soaking wet."

He presses his finger up against your clit through your underwear, almost to tease you. You whimper in desperation, and he grins again as he begins to rub. "What's wrong? You want me to touch you directly?"

You nod. "Please," you whisper. "Please touch my pussy."

With a bite of his lip, he hooks one finger through the hem of your underwear and slides it down towards your knees.

"Just look at that pussy," he says, admiring you. "I can't imagine what you've got under the rest of those clothes."

He begins to rub circles on your clit and you place one hand behind his neck to stabilise yourself. His fingers are cold, and it feels so good against your pussy that you shudder.

Sebastian leans in to kiss you again. He then drags his lower lip along your ear and places a gentle kiss on it. "So fucking good," he says. "So talented, you are. So smart, too, and so fucking beautiful." He rubs your clit even faster and your head falls onto his shoulder.

"Even better at sucking my cock, and I know you'll be great at taking it in that beautiful pussy of yours, too." His words are sending you closer to the edge. "I bet you're so fucking tight."

"Sebastian," you choke out. "Don't stop." You begin to grind your hips against his finger and he chuckles.

"Yes, grind those hips. You're making me hard all over again." You watch as his cock begins to grow once again, already prepared for you. You moan at the sight, and your desperation to feel it inside of you makes you finish.

Your legs shake wildly and you fall back against the table as you cum. Sebastian slows his rubbing, and he sighs in satisfaction as he watches your delicious juices drip from your pussy lips as you finish your release. Once you're done, he licks his finger as if he's licking chocolate frosting off of it.

"So sweet," he smirks.

You're getting impatient now, and without a word you begin to strip your blouse off, and Sebastian watches you with complete lust in his eyes. As you begin to take off your corset, you struggle a bit and he helps you.

He undoes the last button and your corset falls to the floor. You turn around to face him and his jaw drops. He gently places his hands on your waist, and caresses up and down your torso. Sebastian moans softly as he runs his hands over your breasts, spreading his middle and index fingers apart as he passes by your nipples.

"And you said my body was beautiful," he gawks. "Look at you. Just fucking exquisite. You should paint yourself. This is real art."

His sweet words drive you crazy and you crash your lips against his once again. He kisses you back with somehow even more passion this time. He's got paint all over him now, but you absolutely love it. You jump up and wrap your legs around his waist.

He wraps his arms around you, getting paint on you now as well, but you don't care. Sebastian takes you to the bed and drops you on it. He grabs each of your ankles and pulls you towards him as he remains standing.

"I wish you could see yourself from this view," he says.

"Well I'm satisfied with mine, as well," you reply.

He lets go of one of your ankles to position himself at your slit, and you begin to drop your leg. He quickly grabs it again and lifts it back up. "Keep your legs up," he instructs.

You begin to say "alright", but you're cut off by your own moan as he pushes himself into you. Since he isn't too thick, he's able to slide into you quite easily, but he's just the right girth that it feels fucking amazing.

"Your pussy feels incredible," he sighs, as he begins to softly thrust in and out of you.

You watch his face, and you admire how gorgeous his expressions are. The way he shuts his eyes, and raises his brows, and slightly opens his mouth. You wish you could see him like this all the time.

"You can go faster," you tell him. And just like that, he thrusts faster and harder. You both moan in unison and his grip on your ankles tightens. "Fuck, Sebastian, that feels so good."

"God, I- I can't," he breathes as he lets go of your ankles and collapses on top of you, not hurting you, and he continues his thrusting. You wrap your legs around his waist again.

Sebastian rests his head in the crook of your neck, and places his hand on your other cheek. "You're fucking perfect," he says.

You lift his head up so his eyes meet yours and you kiss him, this time it being a romantic, tender kiss. You press your legs tighter on his waist, pushing him closer to you so his cock hits you even deeper.

Sebastian's cock is hitting your g-spot just right, and you can feel your orgasm approaching quickly. You begin to rub your clit just as you feel Sebastian's thrusts slowing down just a hair, and you know he's getting close, too.

"I'm close," he whispers. "Do you want me to cum inside you?"

You think for a moment, and you nod your head.

You tug on his hair and you begin to kiss his neck. He moans and that little sound makes you fall apart. Your legs close around him tightly and as your walls begin to clench on his cock, he loses it. He groans, and right when you expect him to shoot his load inside of you, he quickly pulls out and cums all over your stomach.

He chuckles, and you look up at him with a look of both confusion and disappointment.

"Now you're my art project," he laughs, and you can't help but roll your eyes.

Sebastian falls back onto the bed next to you. "Look at us," he says. "We're a mess."

"I can always conjure up a bathtub," you reply. "By the way, you're not going to be my nude model again."

Sebastian sits up with a frown. "Why not?"

"Are you joking? I'll never get any practice done with you! You've distracted me!"

"You say that like it was a bad distraction." he chuckles.

You can't help but laugh, too, because it's true. You look up at him with a smirk. "You do make a good canvas, though."

[imshymorph]

Happy valentines everyone, here’s some more Death!Ghost x Life!Reader for your enjoyment. Here’s Part One in case you haven’t read it. And now, Part Three

He doesn't wait for an answer, his hands moving from the side of the mask to the eye sockets, fingers fitting in them to pull it away. Out of pure habit you quickly drift your eyes, looking away from him to honour his privacy. His heart seems to fill his chest when he notices.

“It's okay.” He murmurs, his voice raspy but also a more clear than usual, making you realise that the bone usually muffles his voice. “I want you to see me.” He encourages, his hand dropping the mask between the two of you.

- - - - -

You still feel a little hesitant, but let your eyes move back to him. Taking in the sight of his dark robes covering his chest, the hood he usually dons now loosely covering his shoulders. And when you finally reach his face you take your time, like an aspiring artist studying a piece in a museum.

His skin paler than most, although you already expected it from the few peeks you had gotten as his sleeve rode up. The veins that moved up from his neck and onto his face showed through the white tone, combining along the scars that littered his skin. The lines and shapes they created reminding you of Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas with gold.

Despite the sharper edges on his jaw and nose, there was something soft about his features, something reminiscent of when he was first given life. His pale eyes, a foggy mix of greys and blues being highlighted by the dark edges around and under his eyes. Just as if the shadow that the mask produced was permanent around them.

What managed to surprise you most was his hair, with soft curls and waves and with a blond tone that reminded you of the first sunbeams to illuminate the earth in a summer morning.

“Didn’t think you’d be blond.” You say after a moment, your usual sweet smile returning to your lips. “Expected it to be a rich brown, like soil after a full day of rain.” You admit, your eyes scheming over his blond curls once more.

He felt his whole body relax, a soft sigh leaving him as the tension did. It must’ve been the first time someone saw him since his beginning as Death, since he could pretty much remember.

A soft chuckle escapes him at your comment, his expression going soft and a smile lifting the corner of his lips. It was strange to see Death smile, but also a welcome sight. “So, you did wonder about how I looked?” he dares to say, his smile pulling onto a grin.

You chuckle, being the one to have to drift your gaze away this time, fighting to hide the heat that is gathering on your cheeks at his teasing comment. He chuckles as well, being the one to give you space now.

“I might have been curious.” You murmur after a moment, a small grin on your lips as you still avoid looking at him. You still can see the way he looks at you through the reflection of the creek in front of you. Feel his eyes on you.

“Have I met the expectations, then?” He pushes lightly, that teasing tilt still on his tone. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he surprised himself with how easy it was to make the change. To be more open, to show himself to you.

You don’t answer for a moment, looking at the landscape surrounding the two of you before nodding. You turn your head, facing him once more. “Look imposing enough without the mask… Although that smile it's like an open invitation to befriend you.” you say, returning the light quip back.

“We aren’t friends already?” He asks, his tone sounding surprisingly offended but the small smirk on his lips reassuring you that he was just playing along. “Maybe I should just leave then.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be good. You can’t have Life without Death. What would I do without my other half?” You ask, raising your brows as you put the ball on his court.

He chuckles, looking back up to the sky once more, letting his body fall back and rest against the combination of grass and moss under your bodies. “Have no purpose i guess… Just as if I were to be without you.”

[canisalbus]

i dont know if this is a strange compliment but the way you dissect art is so amazing and something i can only aspire to do one day. you pick up on every little symbolism its wonderful! hope youre having a good day btw!

Oh, thank you! It's so nice to hear you think so!

I don't know about picking up on every little symbolism, but I really like art and I like talking about art. I'm just trying to look at it thoughtfully and (in some cases) do my best to let the artist know I paused to appreciate and ponder the piece.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Last Man On Earth (Aemond Targaryen x reader)

Summary: No one told King Aemond about the Song of Ice and Fire. As the daughter of Rhaenyra, you have one last mission left.

Warnings: Violence, death, mentions of sex, smut, toxic dynamics. Misuse of biblical verses

A/N: I'm about to make so many people angry.

And to the woman, the Father said:

“I will make your pains in childbearing very severe;

with painful labor you will give birth to children.

Your desire will be for your husband,

and he will rule over you.”

(The Father's Book. 4:22-26)

The letters stopped getting there on your eight and ten name day. Childishly, you waited a few more weeks, telling yourself it must be only a delay. Perhaps the war that went on, or the weather, had detained the ship that carried it. Perhaps your mother had simply forgotten. But deep down, you knew something had to have happened. Rhaenyra Targaryen was not a good woman, perhaps even not a good mother. But she had always remembered your name days.

Your brain refused to believe it, but you knew, deep in your gut, that it was not a mere delay. You had mourned too much already to deceive yourself. Luke, Jace, Joffrey, Daemon, Helaena… The time spent in the Free Cities had served you well, when it came to learning the deep pang of sadness.

First, it had been the death of Luke. Your beloved twin. Then, the loss of your home. Vanished from Dragonstone by your mother, to keep safe. After that, the separation from your half brothers, by then mere babes. It was best, not knowing where they were. If you were captured, it wouldn’t mean the end of Rhaenyra’s line.

Despite the eagerness displayed by both your mother and Daemon to get you out of the Seven Kingdoms, no one had come looking for you very hard. Every once in a while, an overzealous sell sword got lucky, and you had to relocate, yet the occasions seemed to become further and further apart. No one cared enough to keep looking for the only Targaryen unable to claim a dragon, after all these years.

But at the beginning, you had survived on a network of favors. A chain, if you will, set up by your stepfather. First, it had been that friend of his in Pentos, where you posed as his niece, a dark haired, brown-eyed thing no one actually believed came from such a man. Then, you were the daughter of a courtesan in Lys, recently reunited with your mother and with aspirations of becoming a priestess. After that, you had been the cousin of some Lord in Volantis, then a Septa in training in some forgotten convent in Myr. And so on it went. You had perfected the art of shedding names and titles as if they were an old dress. Yet you never claimed to be Valyrian.

Most would think it had been your lack of dragon, the reason for being sent away. It would even be used as an argument against Rhaenyra, in the years to come, “Isn’t she so progressive? But she sent her daughter away because deep down she knows women are not meant for war.” Others would say it was your nature, a meek and shy thing that always faded in the background when your outspoken brothers and cousins were around.

No one would ever guess the real reason. It would mean giving much credit to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the whore. She had realized, a long time ago, that war was brewing. Rhaenyra, much like you, tried lying to herself. But she knew it, deep down. So, when the time came, for her to prepare her heir, the Princess didn’t tell the secret to just Jacaerys. She told Luke and you.

An heir. A spare. A safeguard. And so, you were sent away. When the letter didn’t come, you realized your mission just started. A painfully long journey, hours in the sea. You would think, with how much you had traveled, you would have gotten your sea legs by now. But it seemed even the sea knew the truth about you.

Normally, a Princess would travel with a retinue. Or at least, if she insisted on the lack of formality, her sworn shield. You had not the funds, nor the need for it, anymore. You had left King’s Landing a girl and returned a woman. In your common cloak, and with your dark hair, no one would have ever mistaken you for a Princess.

The ship docked early in the morning, King’s Landing not yet awake. It was a merchant’s ship, filled with spices and a few other passengers. You disembarked in silence, taking in the surrounding city. It shook you to your core. These were not the streets you remembered, filled with people preparing for war. Nor were these the streets your mother talked about, when she reminisced the time when she and Daemon had fallen in love for the first time.

The city was dirty. The stench was much worse than you remembered, and quite different from other capitals you had visited. It smelt coppery and rotten, as if of old blood. At the gates, there was a head on a spike, a cloud of flies so great surrounding it that you had to bat them away to walk.

Silver hair, no eyes, the softest hint of a quirk in the mouth among the rotting flesh. The same one that you often see in the mirror. It was a head you knew well. It was your mother’s.

You tried hard not to gag, and walked past it at a breakneck speed. Careful not to stare. A woman feeling faint at the sight was expected. A woman falling to her knees and bawling her eyes out was treason.

It was hard, after that, to want to help Aegon. The pig had no redeeming qualities. He had been a bad husband to your aunt, an awful commander and a drunk. You had no doubt now he was going to be a poor King. There was, of course, the fact that he had killed your mother and not even granted her the kindness of a Valyrian funeral.

Still, you had to. You had to because the last time you had heard your mother’s voice, you had promised to. Promised that if you ever were captured, the firsts words that you would utter would be those, and not a plea to the Greens for mercy. You wiped at your eyes, harshly brushing the tears away, and put one foot in front of the other. A step. Another. Easier each time.

“This is bigger than we.” Your mother had said, the night you were to depart. Cloaked by the night, a ship was set to sail towards Pentos. Only a cargo of sheep, it declared at the port. Of sheep and a tiny princess, scared out of her mind. “No matter…” She had choked up, the death of your twin still fresh on her mind. In yours. Luke. Your other half, now gone. The possibility of losing the war, before not even a thought on your mind, now a reality. The first loss of many, even if you didn’t know it then. “Aegon’s dream. No matter who wins, in the end. You have to pass it on.”

“You will win, mother.” You had replied, brushing your own tears away. You didn’t know, that evening, that you would see her again, nearly in the same place, lifeless and empty - eyed. “You have to.”

“Oh, my dragon. My sweet dragon.” Rhaenyra had cradled your face in her hands, placing one last kiss to your forehead. “Promise me. You will help them if I die. You will tell. Because it is not about who sits on the Iron Throne now, but when the Song of Ice and Fire will come to pass.”

“Mother…” A sob broke out your throat. “Mother, I can’t. Don’t ask me to betray you like that, not when…”

“You will. You are my daughter. My only daughter. The strongest out of your siblings because you are a Targaryen, but you are also a woman. Your body was made for pain, your spirit to remain unbroken. Remind that, daughter.”

Your ship had sailed away, the figure of your mother getting smaller and smaller on the horizon. But the duty remained at the forefront of your mind for the years to come. And you intended to fulfill it. No matter what.

The state of disarray King’s Landing was in made it easy to sneak into the Keep. Among the mass of beggars and injured, no one noticed a girl making her way through the streets. You snuck in, using a passage Jace had written you about a long time ago. You got in, your presence unknown to the sleeping servants and barely awake guards.

Perhaps it was the fact that it had been Jace, who had taught you how to get in like that. Or maybe it was just a sudden fit of nostalgia. But with the sky barely pink, the Keep strangely empty, you figured there was no danger in visiting the courtyard.

The servants and the Kingsguard had not yet risen. Too early for even the lowliest of servants. Without a second thought, you lowered your hood. The space was vacant, you had dark hair and a common cloak. No one would notice you if you kept your eyes lowered.

The space looked odd, without the sparring men and the flock of admiring ladies. Still, it looked smaller than you remembered. That thought triggered a memory. Jace. Jace had said the same thing, and then he had turned and…

You walked a few steps and pressed your hand to the mark on the wall, eyes closing. A tiny sob escaped you. It was still there. So much had changed, yet the mark on the wall remained. You could picture him, clear as day, hair windswept, eyes sparkling with wonder. Slightly younger than you, sweet. Warm. Yet your hand only found cold stone.

Lost in those thoughts, you didn’t notice the light footsteps approaching you. You only did, when a familiar voice spoke, a heavy hand falling on your shoulder.

“And who…” Before you even had a chance to try to flee, your uncle, the man that you hated the most, was turning you around. Aemond. Now, nothing in your life has been easy. That was probably why you should have expected the first member of the Greens you would encounter to be him. “…Niece?”

Slowly, as not to startle him, you lifted your hands, pushing your hair back, so he could get a good look at your face. You drank him in, familiar, yet so foreign. He no longer wore the eye patch, but the sapphire eye and the scar were as prominent as ever. Responsible for the death of your twin and stepfather, and turned a formidable commander by the end of the war, having been humbled by defeat. Too many, dead by his hand.

Aemond looked startled at the sight, as if he was looking into the eyes of a ghost. His face paled, lips stretching into a tense grimace before the mask fell back into place.

“What are you doing here?”

"Uncle Aemond." You lowered your head, feeling clueless about what to say. Here’s the man you have nightmares about. Here’s the face that haunts him so. "How have you been?"

"I had better days.” Aemond took your hand, placing it in the crook of his elbow. His eye glittered dangerously, madly. “Walk with me.”

The years had done him good. That much was clear. He had now the look of a man who was used to getting his way, to never being told no. You wondered if sleep proved so elusive to him as it did to you now.

There was almost a pained expression on his face, all sharp angles, that the soft light of sunrise did nothing to light up. Aemond was skinnier than you remembered, taut muscles and dark circles under his eyes adding to his handsomeness. Your uncle had always looked otherworldly, fae like, but now, he looked barely human. Targaryens had always been closer to gods than men, Daemon had used to say. It had never resonated with you in the way it did now.

“You put me into quite the conundrum.” Aemond said, walking you towards the gardens, pace unhurried. He barely dared look at you. You figured, for him, it was more painful. Lucerys must wander his dreams in the same way it did yours, yet you had grown accustomed to seeing the face looking at you in the mirror.

For Aemond, it must be his personal haunting, seeing in you what Luke could have been, had he not cut his thread so early on. You had played that game enough. So many afternoons spent in front of a mirror, watching your reflection get further and further away from what Lucerys had been. So many, thinking that your face was blurring his.

Here’s a secret. Losing a twin is like having a severed limb. An extension of yourself you took for granted and are not, ever, getting back.

Just as you are, Aemond is gathering himself. So, you wait the silence out. You don’t notice the two guards falling into step behind you, when you pass a more transited hallway.

“What is it that you seek? Surely, you don’t intend to rally an army.” He finally asks, and it comes out wrong. Short. Clipped. But not hateful, in the way it used to be, when he crowed Lady Strong in your ear. It feels wrong. Calculated. Like a dragon playing with its food.

“No, Kepa.” You muttered, words sweet, hoping High Valyrian would soothe him. There is something in you telling you to run. Pure, raw instinct, the one we all have. When you see a predator, you run and don’t look back.

Aemond turned towards you, and raised your hood, placing it tenderly over your head. The touch a parent would give to a child. You closed your eyes, delighting in the softness of the touch. You would despise yourself for it later, thinking you had encouraged him. But right now, it has been so long since someone with your same blood touched you. Someone who shares your eyes. For a second, the familiarity makes you think of better days, when both of you were children and Jace and Aegon and him ran around these same halls.

“If you go now, I won’t chase you, little niece. Too much blood has already been spilled for me to wear the Conqueror’s crown. I do not know what prompted you to come here, but I can…” But whatever he was going to say, it was nothing more but static in your ears. You felt like one of the dolls your mother gifted you when you were a child. Head full of wool, limbs weak as if made from string.

His mouth kept moving, lips forming words in a distance. Yet you didn’t hear. Your mind could only fixate on one thing. You stumbled, feet getting tangled in the edge of your dress and cloak, or maybe you were just dizzy with shock. At your sudden move, Aemond’s grip tightened against your arm.

“Niece. Niece.” He muttered urgently, pulling you outwards with such force it would bruise. “You didn’t know, I take it.”

“I didn’t know, Ke… Your Grace.” You dropped into a hurried curtsy, pulse beating loudly in your ears. Your body felt like it was on fire. It explained the changes in him. It made sense, despite your reluctance. Aemond wore the crown well.

“What did you think, byka tolīmorghon?” Aemond chuckled, humorlessly, pulling you to your feet. “So it wasn’t defiance, but ignorance. Hardly a worse sin.”

“I thought… Aegon, or his children…” You trailed off, realizing what it actually meant. If Aegon was not wearing the crown his family had fought so hard to place on his head…

“Dead. Aegon killed your mother, but not before she gutted him like a pig.” Aemond shook his head, seemingly unaffected by the topic of discussion. “His hubris killed him, more than Rhaenyra. He dared set a dragon against a Targaryen, but didn’t count on her being the truest of them two.” Then, as if realizing what he said, he fell silent. Remembering the time he too had dared set a dragon against a Targaryen, but won.

“Experience always trumps, does it not, Your Grace?” You regretted the jab the moment it left your mouth. Aemond let go of your arm, angrily pushing you away. His hand went to his belt. You looked at the sword, hanging there, and felt the urge to retch. Dark Sister. Not only had he killed Daemon, he had taken his sword as a souvenir.

“I don’t know what to do with you.” He said, purple eye burning with anger. His frame towered over you, yet you didn’t flinch. You were the blood of the dragon, as much as he was. More so. Stronger, with an iron will. Because you were half Targaryen, but you were a Targaryen woman. “The blood of Rhaenyra lives on you, contesting my claim to the throne. Despite it, you have marched into my hands willingly. The Seven know with what purpose, byka tolīmorghon. Do you have a death wish?”

“How many dead, Kepa? How many of us left?” You needed to know. Needed because it was essential to your task. No matter how much it hurt.

“None of yours.” Aemond said, and you covered your mouth with your hand, choking back a sob. “None of mine, either. Mother and Helaena… Neither could take it. I rule over ash and bones. The great houses, diminished beyond belief. The dragons… I rue spilling your blood, niece. 'Tis the source of my conflict.”

“I came here to tell you a secret.” You blurt out, before he gets second thoughts. Your eyes keep watch of his sword arm, just because his hand is too close to his belt. It’s not because it makes it easier, not looking at him. At all.

Aemond listens to your story in silence. You tell him all you know, from the blade your mother had said still exists, to the belief your Grandfather and her had in the dream. How he needs heirs, desperately. Anyone, as long as it is his blood.

“I had suspected.” He finally says, shoulders dropping. Aemond looks exhausted. You wonder exactly how heavy the crown is on his head, how much of a burden it is to try to rebuild a country that has been through a civil war and a conquest in less than fifty years. The coffers must be empty, and he speaks of no nobles to tax. To do so on his own… You would go mad. Perhaps he is, already. Too much blood and the latent Targaryen madness, always ready to pounce. It had taken your mother, too.

But there is no one else to rule. You don’t voice those thoughts. You just stare at him, waiting to be dismissed.

“There is no written mention of it, of course. Or else either your stepfather or I would have found out. I have read every book on our history I could get my hands into. I bet Daemon did, too.” And he speaks of it so casually, too. You want to slap him. You can’t. To do so it’s treason. Instead, you curtsy at him, intent on being dismissed, even if you have to prompt him.

He glares. He does not speak a word. You risk a look at his face. Aemond is angrier than you have ever seen. And it’s nothing like it was before the war. It’s a cold thing. A quiet anger, that twists his face into something that reminds you of the portraits of Maegor the Cruel. You take a step back. Then another. Somehow, you know, he will not let you leave these gardens alive. You still try.

“You are the same as your mother.” Aemond said, quietly. You stop, dead in your tracks. “Just as irresponsible.”

“Excuse me?”

“You came here, to drop your mess in my lap, and now you intend to leave?” His hand grips at your wrist, painfully tight. Tight enough to bruise. Aemond snarls, baring his teeth.

“What do you want, Your Grace?” Your tone comes out pleading. Scared. Like a dog showing his belly to a more dominant one. You hate it. “Let me go.”

“You think I will let you leave, byka tolīmorghon?” Aemond laughs. It sounds… Ugly to hear, all twisted. It holds no humor, only disdain. For the poor, silly little girl who thought she could get away.

“Are you going to kill me?” You take another step back, shrugging off his grip. Someone unsheathes his sword. Startled, your eyes are drawn to the source of the noise. And when his guards started to approach? They are cornering you. You have one on the left and Aemond is taking the right. Your back hits the wall.

“No, you won’t walk away that easily. You are staying, niece.” Aemond pressed closer, cornering you even more. Here was a man pushed past his limits, his eye seemed to say. A sudden thought crossed your mind. He was the King. But there was no mention of a Queen.

“I… No. No, uncle. Let me go, now.” You started struggling, dread pooling in your stomach. Surely, you had misinterpreted his meaning. He could not, not when he prided himself on being a trueborn Targaryen.

Aemond merely smirked. It was clear he had noticed, by your increased panic, that you finally understood. A slap. Skin against skin, both of his hands trapping your wrists now. The sound, so loud to you, so similar to the closing of cuffs. He couldn’t. Not with how much he scoffed at your bastard, dirty blood.

“You have Targaryen’s blood. And I need a wife. Kind. Sweet. Pure.” His grip shifted, now holding both of your wrists in one hand. With the other, he pulled you close. You didn’t resist. You just looked at him, helpless. The guards, probably used to seeing much worse from their King, didn’t even flinch. “Strong. To be queen, to give me many heirs.” Aemond nuzzled the top of your hair, hands coming to grasp at your waist, hugging you against him.

“You are insane.” You tried to shrug him off, aware that if you kicked or pushed him too hard, he could have you charged with treason and put to the sword. You didn’t dare fight him in earnest and he knew it. Trapped. He had you cornered.

“Maybe. Maybe. But you are staying. And you know it.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, and you shrieked, as if your skin was crawling at his touch. It was not. You hated it. He was warm and hugging you, and you hadn’t been comforted in so long. None of the guards tried to help you. They didn’t even glance at you.

“That’s not… You can’t, Your Grace, please.”

“You could have sent a raven. Or a pageboy. Yet here you are, pretty little tolīmorghon. Mine to ruin. You will marry me.” You understood, then, what he meant to do. Aemond didn’t even like you. He was going to break you. Just as he was, shouldering the same weight you had tried to push on him.

Aemond was as tortured as he was dutiful. He wanted to drag you into his hell, too. Because it had been unfair, in his eye, that so many of your family had escaped responsibility by death. He was not giving you the chance to do the same.

“Uncle…” You begged, starting to tear up. Aemond released you, roughly. He gestured to a guard, who wordlessly slid into step besides you.

“Go change, niece. That is not proper attire for the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” And with a little shove, you were made to march towards your old chambers by his guards.

The Mother blessed them and said to them,

“Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”

(The Smith's book. 1:32-36)

“Your Grace.” The maid said, becoming him over. Aemond rose from his seat immediately at the sight of her. Corlys, his hand, remained unbothered and nodded in approval. He, too, felt this matter was more important. Ambition. The death of many good men.

“Ah, Margaret. Has the Queen finally worn herself out?” Aemond asked her, noticing her slightly concerned expression. He wasn’t too worried. No dragon liked chains. A bit of destruction was expected from your sudden captivity.

“Your Grace, I don't think she is fine.” The maid whispered, worriedly.

“Did she hurt herself?” Corlys asked, plainly. Aemond knew he was not truly interested in your condition. You two had no contact, since you were sent out of the Seven Kingdoms, and there was no family resemblance. He only cared that you were able to sit on the throne next to Aemond. And it was fine by him. Corlys could look out for the Velaryon last name, Aemond would look out for you.

“No, she's… sitting there.”

“Crying her eyes out?” Aemond nearly snorted at the question. It was clear your alleged grandfather didn’t know you.

“Staring blankly at the walls.” The maid answered, and at that, Aemond grew slightly concerned. You must be planning something. Better be on guard.

“It's a good sign. She has calmed down.” And as Corlys reassured the maid, Aemond left the room, walking towards your chambers. He made sure to only leave his sword behind, carrying instead a dagger. Least you got ideas. He didn’t fully trust you yet. Slowly, he opened the door, surprised by the amount of destruction you had caused in such a short amount of time.

“What a tantrum, niece.” Aemond spoke, softly, eyeing the torn curtains you had knotted together and were in the process of throwing down the window. The bed was sheetless, you had clearly used those too for your makeshift rope.

“Back off or I will jump.” You warned, still busy with your rope. Aemond shook his head.

“Now, I would say throwing down the table and chairs was overkill. You have frightened your maid.” He slowly advanced, unbuckling his belt. You glared.

“Don’t you dare!”

Aemond nearly laughed. He was the King and here were you, a tiny slip of a girl, trying to tell him what to do. Your eyes darted nervously towards the window. He knew as well what you were thinking. It was a big fall.

“Helaena jumped out of one of those.” He got even closer, and tugged the makeshift rope out of your hands. You let go of it easily, too distressed to really think. “I’ll not make the same mistake as Aegon.”

He would not. You were not escaping this. It must be fate, what else? Out of all the people, you were the secret keeper. Sister to Lucerys. The last of your line. Aemond was the last of his, too. The two last true Targaryens, out of all.

Aemond liked the symmetry of it all, he had realized. There was something about it being the death of your twin what started the war, and your marriage ending once for all the division in the Kingdoms. Life and death, both by his hands. You would eventually give him a son. He was no dreamer, but he could feel it. And when his son finally took the throne, a perfect mix of Greens and Blacks, all wounds would be healed. That would be Aemond’s legacy. Finally mending things.

It was not all, though. It was a form of penance, too. A way of never letting him forget, through the rot of it all, that it had all been his fault. In his mind’s eye, he could see you growing older, next to him. And for every line that appeared on your face or neck, Aemond would wonder if that’s how Lucerys would have looked.

Aemond moved even closer. You slapped him, uncaring of the consequences. What a fierce little thing you had grown into. Hot headed. Not very queenly. Aemond pursed his lips and shook his head, taking the slap without complaint. You were entitled to your rage, having the moral high ground. Your hands were not stained like his. But he couldn’t stand for you escaping. He needed you.

So when you tried to duck around him, Aemond pounced. It was not that he was very convinced of the dream. He had a distaste for dreamers, even if Helaena had been one. They often spoke in riddles, never saying what they meant. For all you knew, Aegon’s dream could have been a metaphor for some other event and not a great threat. But you were his path to redemption.

So many nights he had spent on his knees, at the beginning of the war. Praying for a sign, or a chance to fix things. To fix what he had broken. Along the way, he had lost faith. Perhaps the Seven didn’t listen to him, for his soul was already tainted. Perhaps, all the death around him was a punishment for all his faults. And then you showed up. His byka tolīmorghon. His little ghost.

What was he supposed to think, besides that you were the answer to his prayers? After all, he had been favored by the Gods, or so everyone said. It was the Seven, who gave him the Iron Throne. It was his godly given right to rule. Surely, your return was a sign.

You didn’t even make it to the door. Aemond grabbed you by the hair, dark strands curling around his fingers as if rings. How fitting.

You were shrieking something, but he was not really paying attention. It was probably a cry for mercy or insults. He was not too worried about it. Aemond was more concerned about restraining you, else you try to hurt yourself. You had little to lose, after all, and were stubborn enough for it. Oh, he could feel the headache starting.

He needed you. And you thought you needed him. It was easier than it looked. You two could collaborate. The Seven knew he required all the help he could get, with ruling a country that was more ashes and corpses than real people. You could not exactly get Targaryen heirs without a Targaryen husband, and apart from the lost babes, there was simply no one else around.

“Why must you vex me so, tolīmorghon?” Aemond marched you toward the vanity, dragging you by the hair. He threw everything that was on top of it away with a dismissive gesture, and slammed your chest down on it, careful not to slam your head in the process. “You always make everything difficult.”

His grip shifted, from your hair to the back of your neck, making sure to keep you down. You whimpered. The slam had clearly scared you. Good, Aemond thought. Perhaps a little fear would make you listen.

With ruthless efficiency, he had tugged your wrists behind your back, kicking your legs open without a second thought. Tying his belt around your wrists had been easier, once you started to cry. It was clear the consequences of your actions were starting to sink in and that you had no much fight left.

“Not so eloquent now, niece?” Aemond couldn’t resist but taunt, pulling you to your feet. The motions were practiced. He tried not to think from where he had acquired that knowledge.

“Fuck you, kinslayer.” You screamed. Aemond laughed. It seemed you had fight left, then. A shame the insult was not very good. The moniker didn’t hold the weight it once had, after the war. Half of the Targaryens had turned into kinslayers by the end of it.

“Oh, if you only knew.” He grabbed a handkerchief from the floor, no doubt one of the ones that had fallen from his purge of the vanity, and held it in front of your face. “Open up.” He demanded.

You glared and turned your head away. Aemond pinched at your nose. You, ridiculous little thing, held your breath until you started to go red. There were tears on your cheeks, and your lips were turning an alarming shade of purple. Aemond idly wondered if it was from the lack of air or how hard you were pressing them together.

“You do realize you either open up or you pass out, and I gag you anyway, right?” He arched an eyebrow.

You opened up, finally, spluttering and coughing. A shame he stuck the cloth inside your mouth just then.

“Now.” Aemond ordered, full of the confidence only ruling could give. “I will speak and you will listen. Do you understand?”

The cloth muffled your scream.

Women. So tiresome. Aemond rolled his eye, waiting until you tired of the dramatics. Your stubbornness was admirable, in truth. Like a carriage wreck, he couldn’t stop looking at how you worked yourself up. You were both screaming and bawling your eyes out at the same time. After a few minutes of ceaseless struggle, you slumped down, sweaty from the exertion.

“You will bathe after this, of course. I can’t have the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms walking around like that.” He finally offered, amused. “I will not hurt you, little fool. This marriage will help unite the Kingdoms again.”

You stared blankly. Aemond nodded, guessing it was a bit unfair to wait for your input.

“You see. There is still division between Blacks and Green. Were you able to produce a child, both claims would rally behind him.”

This time, you seemed slightly more frightening. Probably at the prospect of laying with him, which, fair. He had not had such a good first experience either, and it had taken him quite a long time with Alys to even try again. Aemond guessed it was likely more frightening, as a woman. It didn’t matter whether your body responded or not, it was happening anyway.

“I won’t hurt you.” He repeated, softly, and grabbed at another handkerchief to clean your face. He kneeled in front of you, despite your panicked attempts to pull back, and softly dabbed at your wet cheeks. “I think two years is a prudent time to get you to give yourself up to me. I would give you a lifetime if I could. But we are not getting any younger, and I need an heir.”

You tilted your head to the side, as if questioning. You were rather puppy-like. It reminded him of your twin even more. Aemond gave you a sad smile.

“You were insistent on getting heirs made, if I understood correctly. I think we can manage to raise children that will not slaughter each other.”

A scoff. Aemond wiped the drool from the corners of your mouth next. Quite undignified, really. Oh, if his mother was watching him from above, she would be laughing at his expense. He had had to learn the art of cooperation the hard way, but it had proved fruitful in getting his ends. Much more than all the anger he held in his youth.

“How hard can it be?”

Your glare was his only answer. Aemond knew he was slowly getting through you. Perhaps a little more kindness? Empathy? What a foreign thing. He had not exercised that much, in the last few years. Ruthlessness was what had given him the throne. But he was willing to try, to get what he wanted.

“You have a point there. Well. I will not treat you badly. I will be a kind husband to you. You will rule by my side.”

This time, your look shifted from distrust to disbelief.

“Funny thing, isn’t it? Neither of us were meant to get the throne, yet…” Aemond shook his head, and softened his tone. He knew just the words to make you budge. “I need your help, if we are going to pull this off. You must truly believe in that dream, if you risked coming here.”

A nod. He had you. Aemond tried not to smirk, knowing it could undo all his work at gaining your collaboration.

“Can I trust our agreement, then, and take the gag off?”

You nodded again. He pulled the cloth off, careful not to hurt your mouth.

“If you are good, I will untie you next.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a pious man?” It was a curious thing, that that was the first sentence you chose to say. Still, Aemond didn’t want to break the fragile trust that was forming between the two of you, and so he decided to indulge you.

“I’m not certain, anymore.” He answered, carefully. It was the truth. He had been so sure, once, that the Seven guided his steps. That the Crone lit up the right path for him to take, that the Father led him to fair decisions. It had all shattered when the Stranger had entered your lives.

Yet here you were. A gift, from the Maiden herself. A Queen, for a King who had nothing. Much like she had done for Hugor of the Hill.

“Isn’t there something on the Seven Pointed Star about this?”

“There is also something about attempting on one’s own life.” Aemond glared at you, pushing your chin up with a finger to take a good look at your eyes. He was deeply displeased by your threat, even if it was an empty one. It had rattled him, the reminder of Helaena. “Any attempts on your life will be dealt with swiftly.”

Aemond couldn’t lose anyone else. He couldn’t see Luke fall to his death again. Even if it meant locking all the windows in the Keep, and taking away all the knives. Or keeping you tied with silk ropes. Whatever that was necessary.

“You said you wouldn't hurt me.”

“Oh, it won't hurt you. Too much.” And it was the truth. He had learned quite a few interesting methods of discipline, while he traveled to different settlements during the war. Aemond was willing to practice them on you, if it meant you stayed by his side.

And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken.

(The Mother's book. 12: 22-23)

It was an odd feeling. Getting ready for your wedding in your mother's chambers. Much to the King's displeasure, none of your old gowns fitted you. He had offered to get you new ones, but after seeing that Aemond had kept most of the rooms in the Keep untouched, you had chosen to wear one of your mother's.

It still smelt like her. Entering the room felt like time had stopped. Everything was exactly as it had been, except there was no Rhaenyra sitting on the couch.

You opened the chest of gowns, placing it carefully on the rug. At your back, Ser Willis cleared his throat. With an annoyed noise, you stepped back.

“Do not be angry, my Queen.” The Kingsguard said, as he opened the trunk and efficiently took away all the bottles and pointy objects he could find. “The King does this with your welfare in mind.”

After the incident at your old chambers, you had been moved into Aemond's personal ones. He was never there, after all, being an insomniac and a workaholic. But his had the great advantage of being near the ground floor.

Your behavior had allowed you to graduate from bound wrists and a gag to a constant shadow. Willis Fell had been tasked with your protection from all threats on your life, including yourself.

“I didn't really mean to attempt on my life!” You said, frustrated. “And do not call me Queen, I'm a Princess in my own right.”

“To a claim that no longer exists, your Grace.” The man repeated, cheerfully. “It matters not who you were, but who you are now. If King Aemond says you are to be called Queen, then you are.”

You huffed, angrily, and ignored him, quickly picking two gowns. Aemond had demanded they were in the Blacks' colors and not the Velaryons. It had brought great displeasure to the Lord Hand. Your grandfather had wanted to see you enter the Sept in his colors. He would have to conform with handing you to Aemond.

Corlys Velaryon made you have mixed feelings. On one side, there was the fact that he had changed sides faster than one could change cloaks, after your mother was dead. On the bright side, he was the only ally you had in court. The only person willing to oppose Aemond for your sake.

It was a curious choice, on Aemond's part, to keep him so close. It was a good show of unity and forgiveness, a proof of the noble heart of the King. Or maybe it was because he had control over other, low-level threats to his throne. You had heard Rhaena and Baela had survived the war. They had already confirmed their attendance to the joyous occasion, but you were not allowed to meet them alone. You would have to wait until tonight, when the feast took place, or even tomorrow, at the wedding.

“What do you think, Ser Willis?” You showed the man two gowns, one crimson red and one black. “I do not think black is proper for a wedding, but wearing two crimson gowns seems too much. Perhaps… The black one at the feast?”

"I think this one is a bit…” The knight trailed off, and you looked at it closely. He was right. It was the dress of a matron, too dark-colored for a wedding, too grown up for you. Your mother had worn it the night that your uncle made his toast. Gods, you had all been so young. You remembered how beautiful she had looked in it. “What about the dress your mother wore for her own wedding? It is still there. I saw it.”

You lifted some dresses, searching for a light colored one. A beautiful gown of white and gold, one you had discarded because it didn’t fit the criteria Aemond had set, and its significance was lost on you. You didn’t know that had been your mother’s wedding dress. Rhaenyra at eighteen had been a petite woman. You clutched at it, wondering if it would even fit you. It could probably be adjusted, or copied.

“Thank you, Ser Willis.” It didn’t hurt to be polite with the man. He had been on Aegon’s side, and had been quite outspoken with his disapproval of your mother and Daemon. But he was only doing his job. Aemond was the one who had ordered you not to be left alone at any time. Sometimes, you were grateful for it. It helped ward off your loneliness. Other times, it got suffocating.

“A pleasure, my Queen. The King will not be able to keep his eye off you. A good match, you are.” He offered, smiling at you. You had learned he seemed to thrive on courtly manners.

You gave him a sad smile and passed him the dresses to carry. As you walked, you noticed it was starting to get late.

“May we ask for the maid? Margaret? I wish to change for the feast.” Your guard nodded, and repeated the order to the guard outside Aemond’s chambers.

Margaret was the one that had the duty to guard you when you were doing womanly things. It was a good system, you had to give it to Aemond. He had thought of everything. It gave time for Ser Willis to rest and eat, and it gave you slightly more privacy and a companion.

You despised his thoughtfulness. You didn’t want to like him. He had murdered your twin, after all. But your mother had murdered Aegon, even if in self-defense, and ordered the murder of one of Helaena’s kids. Children. There seemed to be no morals in any of the sides.

After your forced truce, you had seen little of Aemond. He had slowly given back your freedom, in the two weeks he had had you by his side. The planning of a royal wedding in such little time kept you busy. You never wanted Alicent, in your life, but you found yourself longing for her. It was hard, after a life of exile, to remind all the stuffy rules of courtesy in the Seven Kingdoms. Alicent had been great at even, much more than your mother and Daemon.

At first, you had been constantly on edge, as if you were waiting for the executioner’s sword to fall on your neck at any time. But the more the wedding approached, the more you realized Aemond had no devious plan to lull you into a false sense of safety and then kill you. His only devious plan was marrying you and giving you half the responsibilities of running the Red Keep.

Slowly, he had been piling them on you. The better you behaved, the more you were trusted to oversee. It was not the incentive he probably thought it was, but it kept you busy. It was you, who had to supervise the servants and manage the finances, now. You were consulted on what should be served at feasts, asked about settling arguments. Aemond’s wife in anything but name, the acting Lady of the Red Keep. Soon, noble children would be sent here, and it would be your responsibility to mind their education.

It was an adjustment. Making sure there was sufficient in the stores was hard, as it was monitoring where all the money went. It was not like being the wife of any lord because your finances impacted on those of the Kingdom. It had brought you closer to the servants, asking for advice on how to do your duty properly. And it had allowed you to learn quite a few things about Aemond.

One. He was an insomniac. He went to bed late, when you were already asleep, and left after only four hours, five at most. Aemond might be sharing your bed, but you never saw him. He disliked the dark, too. He used more candles on his nightly walks than you did in a week.

Two, he forgot to eat often. Aemond was an overall workaholic, and thought everyone was, too. Frequently, his meetings would drag on and on, and he would skip lunch. It was a comical sight, when he was with the small council. The lords, the Hand included, would flock out of the room as soon as they were dismissed. Then, in a very undignified manner, they would dilapidate the kitchen, messing up your tracking of the stores.

Third, he had taken a liking to poetry. It had greatly perplexed you, when you found that your household now included two poets. You had grown used to minding them too, and tolerating their strange ways.

Margaret entered silently, placing a bucket of water in a corner. You took your hair down and started to brush it, hurriedly. Margaret went to attend to the clothes you would wear to give you privacy to bathe. When all the painstakingly process of getting a Queen ready was done, you exited Aemond’s chambers and ran right into him.

He was already dressed for the feast, wearing a rich black doublet, the Conqueror’s crown on his head. His long silver hair was held back in a half updo, much simpler than what your father used to wear. Still, he looked regal.

“Ah, niece. I see you are ready.” Aemond offered his arm, gently. Careful not to move abruptly, less he spooked you. “Shall we?”

You take his arm, fighting the impulse to flinch in disgust. Your brother’s killer! The thought echoes around your head. But also, the last Targaryen standing. You need to get used to it, you promised your mother you would not allow the Song of Ice and Fire to ruin Westeros. Targaryens have to multiply. If it meant carrying his child, then so be it.

Aemond says nothing. He seems amused by your internal conflict. You will be his Queen, soon enough. His touch has to stop surprising you. It could be much worse. Aemond could have killed you, or kept you locked up. Instead, he has offered something very generous.

The hall looks exactly as when you left. The faces, though, are changed. Despite the houses' colors and sigils being the same, you don't recognize anyone but the Hand. There is also Tyland Lannister, who you know sits on the small council. Or you hope it's him. You were never able to tell the Lannisters apart.

Most of the crowd gasps when you and Aemond enter the hall. The dress was a statement, one that was not seen in quite a few years. Red and black, and previously worn by Rhaenyra, it made clear where you had stood.

“...So he is going through it…?”

“Look at her, the bastard daughter of that whore…”

“Wasn't he engaged to a Baratheon?”

“... Worse than Maegor, the bitch… Taxes through the skies…”

“She is his niece!”

You braved the whispers, clinging to Aemond's arm. Idly, you considered running away. Far from all this nonsense and back to the Free Cities. It was too much, hearing these people call your mother a whore and the second coming of Maegor, when her head was still on a spike, and they sat here, plump and rosy from the good life.

You knew Rhaenyra's reign had not turned out well. And that whatever her and Daemon had been up to, it had driven her mad in the end. She had executed and murdered many, and been a poor ruler, blinded by panic. But she was still your mother. A human being. A Queen. Whose head hung on the city's gates as you were made to marry her replacement.

When you finally made it to the table, Aemond pulled your chair out for you, and pressed his palm against your back. A warning. You didn't know how, but he could tell what you were thinking. He would not tolerate any kind of scene from you, he had stated. Nothing that made him look weak, or you would regret it.

“Good evening.” Aemond said, remaining standing behind your chair. It was an odd position to choose while addressing his subjects, but it was one that showed his power over you. “I thank you all for coming to witness such… Joyous occasion.” He smirked, squeezing your shoulder. You couldn't fight the slight dropping of your fake smile.

“Tomorrow, the division between the Blacks and Greens will finally be over. And it's all thanks to this wonderful woman.” Aemond took your hand and raised it to his lips. He certainly knew how to put on a show for the masses. When you were children, he had been much less charming, although he had had his moments of political savviness. The engagement to the Baratheons, for example. His taste for the dramatic, unfortunately, had always been there. Take that awful speech, for example.

His lips were cold against your skin. You shuddered.

"A toast." He said, looking directly into your eyes. The perfect picture of the dutiful fiancée. You glared, but gave him an even brighter smile. You disliked being made a show. “To my niece. The future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

The crowd cheered. Aemond sat down next to you, prompting the servants to start serving the food. You didn't speak a word. It was the first time you ate together after two weeks of sharing the same chambers.

You poured him wine, noticing your grandfather's expectant eyes on you. The conversation on the table was stilted. The King didn't care much for noise, so the council spoke quietly and formally. None thought to include you.

"Thank you." Aemond said, and placed a few cuts of meat on your plate.”When you finish dinner, I will be expected to socialize. You are welcome, but not forced to do the same.”

“Are Rhaena and Baela here?” You looked at him, eagerly. They were the only people you were excited to see.

“We have agreed it would be best if you saw them tomorrow, after the wedding.” Corlys interjected, smoothly. Aemond grunted. Ah, how cunning of the Hand. To meet your once sisters-in-law to be after you couldn't escape.

“I understand. Well. I think I will enjoy the company of your council, Your Grace.” Your tone was polite, but firm. No room for argument. All these stuffy lords, eager to go spend money in the brothels, were now stuck in your company. It surely wasn't winning Corlys any friends.

You smirked. Aemond finished eating, and with a kiss to your crown that was all for show, departed.

At first, you made conversation with the Grand Maester, about the latest book releases and how the war had nearly killed the industry.

"Not enough people want to read, your Grace. Terrible. I do hope, when we open the Red Keep to children again, you will teach them the importance…"

"I think that's enough." Corlys said, offering you his hand. "I think you owe this old man a dance, granddaughter." And he couldn’t lose the chance to lord his relationship with you all over the rest of the lords. It would be simply too much to ask. He was still the same ambitious man he had been back then, when you didn’t really know he was not your grand sire.

"Of course." You took his hand and allowed him to lead you into a polite dance. Your grandfather was a graceful, still a handsome man. You could see what Princess Rhaenys had seen in him, once.

“I do not begrudge you, Your Grace.” Corlys said, as he twirled you.

“Begrudge me?” You asked, once he had pulled you in once again.

“You and I know your father was not going to sire children in any other way. He loved Jacaerys, Lucerys and you like you were his own.” He whispered, quickly. Your smile froze. Was he really…? “Joffrey more so, since he got to pick his name” Corlys teased and you relaxed. He was offering you his support, and you were not fool enough to refuse him. Despite not knowing his motives.

“I… You shouldn’t.”

“I know. Your future husband would have my head. But know that you are Laenor’s daughter in all the ways that matter." Corlys gave you a polite little bow, as the song ended. His parting words left you more shaken than you wanted to admit. "And that come fifty years down the line, no one will remember what you looked like, or who sired you. They will only remember your maiden name, Velaryon, and your husband’s."

You were alone in the middle of the dance floor, too stunned to even speak. So that was his motivation. The Velaryon name, on the Iron Throne. The accounts later would call you the granddaughter of the Lord Hand, much like Queen Alicent had been the daughter of Otto.

A new song started. The crowd started to dance again, pushing at you. Immediately, Ser Willis started to make his way towards you. His ever vigilant eye never lost anything. Deciding to make his job easier, you walked towards a less crowded corner, so he could reach you. But as you waited, another man approached.

“Lady Velaryon.” The man dropped into a bow, so deep it might as well be kissing the floor. A Stark, by the sigil on his cloak. Quite handsome too. He was around Aemond’s age, but looked much friendlier. You jolted your memory. Jacaerys had mentioned a Stark in his letters. "You look just like your brother."

"Cregan Stark?" You asked. At his nod, you gave him a small curtsy. “Lord Stark, pleased to meet you.”

Ser Willis, still far away, touched the shoulder of another Kingsguard. They both crept closer.

"Are you safe?" Cregan grasped your hands in his, in quite a bold move. To touch the King’s betrothed, it was an offense that could be punishable by death if Aemond so chose. And none of the people gathered in the hall would blame him for it. Daemon had killed men for much less, and so had your mother. Targaryens weren’t rational, when they thought someone to be theirs.

Cregan’s words were spoken in a hushed tone, but not enough for your guards not to hear. You gave them a nervous look.

"Yes." You answered to Cregan, hoping it was convincing enough that he wouldn’t try some foolish plan to liberate you, when in fact, you hardly needed one. Your agreement with Aemond was enough. You truly had nowhere to go, you were tired of running, and you were fulfilling your mission. It was your mother’s will. She had said at any cost. You won’t disappoint. If Cregan Stark wanted to take you away from your only purpose, he would have to drag you away, kicking and screaming.

“You don't have to marry him, my lady. The North would back you, you could have an army.” Your smile froze. Those were dangerous words, no matter how low they were muttered. Treacherous. Was everyone in this feast intent on getting killed?

“I am marrying him because it is my duty.” You squeezed his hands, hoping he would get the message. Ser Willis stepped closer to you, ready to intervene. The other guard went away, surely to look for reinforcements.

“Is it, to marry your family's killer? My lady, there is no need…”

“There is something stronger, binding the King and me.” You interrupted, firm but polite. Why didn’t he get the hint? A pair of arms snaked around your waist. So the guard had not gone looking for reinforcements, but Aemond. You relaxed into his hold, knowing he wouldn’t let Cregan Stark take you away and try to save you from yourself.

Aemond pressed a kiss to the top of your hair, the cold crown he wore bumping against your head. You were not a small woman, but he had to lean down to be able to kiss you. By the look on Lord Stark’s face, it didn’t make him less intimidating in the least.

"Ah, Lord Cregan. How good it is to see you.” His voice was mocking, taunting. “What are you doing with my betrothed?”

“I… Your Grace.” The Stark flustered, helplessly looking at you to save him. You gave him a cold look, knowing that if you intervened, Aemond could take it as a show of favor towards the man. Not only would it doom him more, but it would also get you punished. You didn’t fancy walking into your wedding with bound wrists.

“Surely not convincing her to run away?”

“I…” Your eyes closed, trying not to think of the destiny of this man who tried to help you and now was going to have a bloody ending for his troubles.

“I know many men would want a wife like her.” His grip turned slightly more possessive, hands digging into the bodice of your dress. Insinuating something. Painting a nice picture for Cregan Stark. “You were recently widowed, were you not?” Dismissive. A power play. One of his favorite things.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Beautiful. Learned. Strong.” Aemond hooked his chin over your shoulder, smiling at the other man. As if you were nothing more than a prize to be won. But the nickname was too much. You lean back, and stomped on his foot. Aemond made a gurgling, pained sound. The Stark raised his eyebrows in surprise, but made no comments. He surely was thinking about how he had misread the situation.

Cregan Stark would never understand it. He was a good, honorable man. And you and Aemond were everything but. He was tainted by war, you were tainted for rolling in the mud with him. Both dishonorable, both self-interested. Both lying to yourselves, telling you were doing this for the greater good.

Targaryen blood called to each other like moths to a flame. Slowly, you stumbled into each other's arms, thinking yourselves the last man and woman on earth. You were not. If you were to have a child with any other man, those children would still be Targaryens.More so if Aemond had children with another woman. Perhaps, it would even be more useful, producing more children. Neither of you voiced it.

It was an excuse, the Song of Ice and Fire. But a useful one, for both of you.

"Worry not, wolf. I know a woman like her is enough to lead any man to insanity.” Aemond squeezed your hip, and you knew, the snide little remark was not for Cregan but for you. “I will take your words as they are, nothing more than courtly love and deep admiration for my niece.”

“Cursed is the ground because of you;

through painful toil you will eat food from it

all the days of your life.

It will produce thorns and thistles for you,

and you will eat the plants of the field.”

(The Father's book 5:12-16)

It was a strange sight. In the Velaryon’s cloak, all dark hair and eyes. It was painfully obvious to anyone with eyes, the truth of your heritage. Yet none of those who stood in the Sept dared say a word.

The good thing about being King? The truth was what he said it was. Aemond suddenly understood his father more and more. Viserys had chosen to deny the truth until the bitter end, and there was nothing that could be done about it. As long as the King protected you, bastard or not, you were safe.

Aemond wondered if you realized the amount of trust you were placing in him. Should his Hand decide to deny your heritage, it was only Aemond’s word that shielded you from being put to the sword. Still, if the choice was between you and Corlys Velaryon, Aemond already knew who he would pick.

You had not opposed him. You had not installed a maritime block on the Seven Kingdoms, making the common folk suffer from the lack of food for not declaring for Rhaenyra. You had not switched sides.

As you approached, on the arm of the same man that he was currently plotting to kill on your behalf, Aemond was a little dumbfounded by how beautiful you were. When he had first seen you, all grown up, he had thought you pretty. A sufficient distraction to curb his loneliness. Now he knew, you were not pretty. You were otherworldly.

You didn’t look anything like a true Valyrian. Your beauty was not the same as the one his cousins had. He had been foolish, thinking that your darker features put a damper on your beauty. The sun kissed skin, the enchanting eyes… It only added to your charm. It had taken him two weeks to realize it, and it was a shame. You were more than just a projection of Lucerys he could use to torture himself.

When the time came, Aemond draped his cloak over you, placing you back under the Targaryen’s red and black. He couldn’t help but give you a smug smile. You looked good on his house’s colors. Better. Like you belonged in them. It didn’t matter, that you had come out of the womb with a strong resemblance to Rhaenyra’s sworn shield. You were half Targaryen, and as far Aemond was concerned, that was the half that mattered.

Velaryons. What a joke. Who wanted Velaryons, when they were too ambitious for their own good? When they were unable to bring children into the world safely? No, he decided. You made the perfect Queen because you were not a Velaryon. You had performed every task he had set for you perfectly. Born to rule.

The wedding passed in a blur. It felt as if he barely blinked and suddenly, you were both saying your vows and were being hand fasted together.

“Wife.” You turned towards him, all wide dark eyes. Slightly scared. He leaned down, and whispered in your ear, to warn you. “I’m going to kiss you, then we will retire for the night.”

“But Rhaena and Baela…” You started to protest, but Aemond leaned down and kissed you. It was only a peck, a brush of the lips. It was enough to quiet you. You shyly looked down, the image of a sweet maiden. The lords clapped, politely.

There would be no Rhaena and Baela. He was already thinking of a way to take Corlys out of the equation in case he ever became an obstacle. It would do not good, if you were too attached to the girls, and he had to kill their grandfather.

“You can see them tomorrow, tolīmorghon.” Aemond took your tiny hand in his. You were cold and sweaty in his grasp. Anxious. He nearly smirked. You would grow out of it, he was sure. Aemond was already ruining you, and you didn’t even realize, too worried by the others. He had seen how you didn’t jump to Cregan’s aid.

“But… The guests… The feast…”

“I will keep my promise, if that is what worries you.” Aemond tucked a soft strand of hair behind your ear. Careful, careful, to sound teasing and not like he resented it. “But since I do not get to bed my wife, I want to at least get to spend the night with her.”

“You have been spending the nights with me.” You muttered to him. He almost laughed. Clueless thing that you were, to think your nights were spent with him.

Aemond started leading you away from the guests, and towards his chambers. He was eagerly awaiting to watch you sleep. A thing he missed from before the war was the ability to get a full night of sleep, but Aemond betted watching you do it would be nice. Your face held still childlike innocence, and most probably perpetually would. It was that damn combination, of Harwin’s puppy eyes and being shielded from war. Asleep, you would surely look like an angel.

He liked your purity, compared to other ladies of the realm. You had known of the horrors of war, but you hadn’t actually seen it. Sometimes, he thought he had chosen to keep you because of it. You didn’t know what kind of monster Aemond really was. How much blood stained his hands.

You knew he had killed Lucerys, you knew he had taken Harrenhall. You didn’t know he had executed all the men there, children and elderly included. You knew he had killed Daemon, you didn’t know exactly how many times he had stabbed him, until both Caraxes and Vhagar were both plunging to their deaths. You knew he was a killer. You didn’t know sometimes he didn’t regret it.

“I have spent nights with you?” He asked, amused. Most women would be terrified to share his bed. Not you, apparently, if you had thought Aemond was sleeping by your side already and had made no fuzz.

“Where are you sleeping, then?” You opened the door to his chambers, already used to the creaking hinges. As if those had been your chambers your whole life. “I thought…”

“I have been sleeping on my study.” So you went to bed every night and fell asleep thinking he would later join you? It was cute. Perhaps keeping you would be easier than he thought. Aemond was halfway there already. “It wouldn’t have been proper, otherwise.”

“And you are all about property.” He ignored your taunt, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The satisfaction he felt was too high to be bothered. Not only did he had you already, but you had slowly started to trust him.

You wanted to stay. The state of his rooms showed it. He was a tidy man, and liked to keep his rooms the same way. Still, there was something enchanting about the way you had taken possession of the place during the past two weeks. Your gown, placed over the bed, surely by your maid. A few books on the left side of the bed, that were definitely not his. A tiny pair of slippers just next to the fire.

Aemond nudged you towards the armchair. You sat down without complaint, looking at him with curious dark eyes. He kneeled in front of you and helped take off your shoes, placing the slippers on your feet instead. The skin of your ankles was soft and vulnerable. He gave it a gentle rub before sitting back on his haunches.

“I brought you here because I have something to tell you.” Still on his knees, worshiping another effigy. Aemond liked the parallels of it. So many nights, spent asking for forgiveness at a Sept. More nights, he would spend at your feet, begging for atonement to his own personal goddess.

“Why are you on your knees?” You asked, looking down at him, eyes so sweet and pure, not even the Maiden herself could compare. How many nights, would it take? How much time, until you became a sinner like himself? “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Aemond cleared his throat. He looked up at you, suddenly feeling fear choking him. Expiation was not an easy thing. The High Septon himself had said, before spluttering some nonsense about how if he wore the Crown, it was by the grace of the Seven and their favor. Not because he had been the last one standing in a pit of gladiators fighting to death. Not because he had been the only one not to drown in the rivers of blood that followed.

The thought of ruining your innocence, turning you like him, was a thought that warmed him and filled him with dread. After it, Aemond would never be alone again. You would be just like him, broken, ruined, dirty. You would never leave his side because you would understand there was no other place for you but by his side. And just as he did, you would love him and hate him in equal amounts.

But you were so pure. Filled with good intentions and loyalty. Sweet. A balm to his wounds. It would be lost when you turned like him. The one good thing he had found for himself, broken beyond repair.

The silence went on and on. Aemond finally broke it, by speaking in a tone so soft, you might not even be able to hear. Confessing.

“I didn’t kill Luke on purpose. It was…”

A twitch of your mouth. The Maiden come to life, growing impatient. Eyes cold, as if they could erase him from existence.

You would not like this truth. It had all been for nothing. The death of your twin, the war… It was never meant to happen. A foolish mistake. If he had truly meant to kill the boy, perhaps this mess would make some sense. Frame it as a war between bitter enemies, and not family, with combatants that were barely out of childhood.

Or children themselves. Like Lucerys and you had been.

“It was an accident. I lost control of Vhagar. I shouldn’t have, and I despise myself for it, every day. I wish I had never…”

Never chased after him. Never set Vhagar on the smaller dragon. Because back then, he had not been a bad man. That morning, Aemond had been happy. Celebrating an engagement that brought honor to his house. He had not rolled out of bed thinking of killing a child. How few hours of innocence he had left.

No one had told Lucerys how few hours of life he had left, either.

A sob. Aemond can’t tell if he voiced all of that, but by your horrified look, he has. It feels like being stabbed in the eye all over again. Worse than Daemon nearly taking his head off.

It takes him a while to recognize the feeling that curls around his stomach, makes him want to throw up, as your gentle hand presses over his head, prompting him to rest it on your lap.

As you said the words he so craved to hear, he finally got it.

“I forgive you.” But could you, really, when you didn't know what you were forgiving him for?

Shame. It’s shame, the feeling in his stomach. He had not felt it in a long time.

Shame, for what he had done to wear this dammed crown. Shame, for killing Luke. Shame, for what he was about to do to you.

The months go by. You start sleeping on the same bed. Rigid. Side by side, as if children. Slowly, your bodies start to curl against each other. Aemond, always awake before you do, wonders if you realize. He moves away before you wake, but your body always seems to search for him when you sleep.

It’s a cold marriage. One of duty, or so the rest of Westeros thinks. Even the Lord Hand is fooled by it. Aemond has heard the maids whisper about it, about the poor, pretty Queen, trapped into marriage to a monster. Wasting her beauty and sweetness on a man who doesn’t see her.

As a team, you work well. Outside your chambers, your relationships and interactions are extremely polite. The Seven Kingdoms have never been more prosperous than under your combined rule. Aemond is pleased with his legacy. Give it a few more years, if he doesn’t ruin anything, and he will go down in history not as a kinslayer but as the bringer of the golden age of Westeros. The arts prosper, the people are educated and well-fed, the crime rate is low.

“What a dreadfully boring marriage.”

“Duty. Only that. I would go mad, if my husband never touched me.”

“Do you think the King is like Ser Laenor?”

Aemond doesn’t mind, if they think his marriage is colder than the North beyond the Wall. He knows the truth.

There are nights, where you wake up desperate, a scream in your throat. Sometimes, you scream at him, you say you hate him. In others, you sob yourself into a meltdown, saying you hate yourself.

It’s always the same, on nights like that. He holds you in his arms, until you stop fighting. Overcome by hysterics, it’s you who searches for his mouth. You kiss him.

Aemond holds you down. You fight, you push and pull, like the waves lapping at the shore. Your nightgown rides up, his pants and shirt come off. He chases your sadness away with steady rolls of the hips, until all that is left is you and him, and not the ghosts of your past.

You break down gloriously, beneath him. Clawing at his back, wanting to make him hurt as you hurt. Sometimes, Aemond needs to hurt, too.

Sometimes it’s him, who wakes up screaming.

You fight. You scream. The guards knock on the door, concerned about what you are doing to each other, thinking one of you finally snapped and attempted murder. Like beasts, you roll around on the floor, clothes ripping, hair being pulled, skin bitten.

You ride him, sometimes. Your delicate hands turn into cuffs, keeping him pinned down. You sob your way through it, until Aemond cannot tell if it’s over stimulation or sadness. It’s sick. You two act like cats in heat. It’s the best sex he had ever had.

No matter who was the instigator, the next morning you slip out of bed, embarrassed by your behavior. Cold. You avoid his eyes, his mere presence makes you flinch. But despite your sudden turn into the most proper woman in the realm, Aemond knows the truth.

You are ruined. Just like him.

Hugor and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.

(The Smith's book. 2:14-15)

[solarwoniii]

heyyy!! just wondering if i could request “zb1 legal line reaction to catching their s/o masturbating” hehehehheheehehe if not all goodzz 💗💗

reaction to catching you touching yourself ! zb1 legal line

smut, crack, some fluff ! includes jiwoong, zhanghao, hanbin, matthew, taerae and ricky

contains ; dacryphilia, punishments, i think thats all? lmk if i missed any T^T

a/n ; THANK U FOR UR REQUEST ♡ HAD SO MUCH FUN DOING THIS

jiwoong ;

would laugh at you but not in a cute funny quirky silly way

that low kind of dominant chuckle that makes you realise.

you fucked up.

he'd pull up a chair beside the bed and insist for you to continue in that same scary tone ur mum talks in when u forget to wash the dishes 😰😰😰😨😨

and then he'll force you to make yourself cum until you're crying while he sat there and watched because you're not allowed to stop until he says.

then he'll finally touch you.

with his fingertips.

just to fuck with you more because he's a petty little bitch

edging you until you're shaking, eyes rolling back, body arching

and then, and only then will you get to cum.

zhanghao ;

finds it cute that you think you're so big and strong now

puts ur ass in its place so fast 🫣🫣

love bites all over you

your body is his canvas and his marks are his art 😵😶

actually, this timing is perfect

he'd been waiting for you to misbehave so he could try out the new vibrator he got for you

edges you again and again, just to rip away your orgasm and have you crying

when you finally cum you both know damn well it's not over 💀 keeps the vibrator in that exact spot and refuses to move it until you cum another three times.

i'm sorry i just think mean dom hao is extremely accurate and attractive

hanbin ;

i think he would genuinely laugh at you 💀

and you would try to be mad at him for laughing at you but his stupid laugh is unfortunately extremely contagious 😭😔

when he's done laughing at you he'll come and help you

i think it would be all giggly and fluffy and cute though

and then you would cuddle naked (i feel like hanbin wld enjoy this so much during aftercare esp idk) and gossip LMFAO

matthew ;

GETS SO SHY I SWEAR JSJSJSJS

THE PERSONIFICATION OF 😳

quickly closes the door behind him before anyone else can see what he's seeing

'd-do u want me to . . .' 'o-oh ok'

he's flustered but he will help you feel good 😭

turns into a cute little mutual masturbation session after u notice the boner building up in his pants from the sight of u T^T

when you both finish he'll clean you up and then be a little cutie patootie

'uhmmm there was this disney movie i really wanted to watch with you so could we maybe do that now ? 👉👈'

taerae ;

just smiles and locks the door behind him when he realises what you're doing

'do you need my help baby?'

he'll sit beside you and replace your hand with his

helps you reach the best orgasm of your life with his skilled fingers

idk i genuinely don't think he would get mad

but he'll remind you that you can always come to him if you're feeling needy.

kisses

so many kisses

he'll give you more than his fingers after as well if you still want more ;))

ricky ;

YEAH THATS RIGHT WE'RE BACK TO PUSSY SLAPPER RICKY BECAUSE MY LOVE MIYUKI PUT THE THOUGHT INTO MY HEAD AND I REFUSE TO LET GO

when he walks in i think he'd get flustered but he'd quickly cover it up because being seen like that by you hurts his precious ego

AGAIN LOW DOMINANT CHUCKLE he takes after jiwoong because he aspires to one day be that cool and strong but u already know he's a cute little softie

'if you wanted me to treat you like a little whore you could've just said so, baby.'

AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 😭😶🫣😵😳😰😭😶

gets you up on all fours and spanks your pussy until it's swollen and dripping.

then he'll mark your body up and take photos of you for his little collection 😨

eats you out (prolly makes u sit on his face too bc he's a little freak)

[grapejuicestyless]

hey, i eat up everything you write!!! i would love to request maybe a sunshine y/n vs grumpy Conrad (or harry .. I think it will work for either) set in college ! maybe it’s because i’m in uni right now but i am a true sucker for uni based stories 🥲😭 maybe she could be an art major or literature? … eee just an idea !!! thank you 🌟🫶🏻🧚🏻

Mona Lisa

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You always kept your head up. Each inconvenience was simply a coincidence. But even the biggest balls of sunshine need a break sometimes.

Her chest expanded out, cheeks puffed up, lips pursed in a tight line. Her hands shook under the weight of her textbooks. Her tote bag was slung over her shoulder, but the cautious girl feared that even with the extra wiggle room between the canvas bag, all her things would break it and leave her with nothing at all to aid her.

Her late start had taken the energy out of her, the stairs had taken away her willpower, and the red marks littering her latest exam papers had taken away her spirit. Paint cracked over her knuckles and glasses pulling her hair back, she heard her mothers voice in her head.

“Don’t do that, you’ll stretch them out and they won’t fit properly. Though they still seemed to fit fine, the slight sliding down the bridge of her nose every so often proved her mother right.

She had picked art as her major. She had ambitions, goals and aspirations. Her past teachers had complemented her craftsmanship. Her skill behind an easel. Picking up her paper as an example, using her to demonstrate how to execute certain techniques. It didn’t excuse her from her other classes, however. That was her own decision to make. The idea of having no other classes but ones revolving around the arts would drive her academic side crazy. So each new semester, she enrolled herself into a few classes she didn’t really need to take, but would enjoy. Or so she thought.

It wasn’t like she was stupid, she thrived in the past. In many ways, she was a poet. She had a mind like no other, the words would simply come to head as soon as the pen hit the paper. But math taken away her vanity, and history was a drag more so than not. God, she couldn’t bear to sit through another lecture about some old white guy who would otherwise mean nothing to anyone if it weren’t for the many who refused to let them and their scandalous actions go.

Y/n knew better than to complain. She knew how privileged she was to even be able to attend a school as such. She didn’t have the wealth, but she had the motivations in her past that had driven her to a certain level of success. Something good enough to land her scholarships. She was good at keeping her head up, more so than not. Each struggle would only create another work for her to make.

It was normal to feel down, even knowing this. She was simply glad to be able to step over the threshold to her apartment. The key couldn’t turn fast enough in her eyes. All she longed for was a little warmth and maybe a cup of coffee to keep her going for the rest of the day. More than that, she longed for him. The man who so graciously wrapped his arms around her shoulder every night and whispered sweet nothings to her. Singing messy melodies and dedicating the lyrics to her while she sleeps.

Her shoulders sagged, only to stiffen when she saw how the December nip had come through her roommates open window.

But she didn’t grumble something mean under her breath. She had known she must’ve done it once or twice before too. Her roommate who she loved very much surely hadn’t meant any harm.

Her slippers were inviting, and his sweatshirt hanging by her door was the final piece she was missing. His smell, welcoming and warm. He smelled of toasted vanilla and pine. There were hints of hair gel in the sleeves, from how often he ran his hands through his hair. She didn’t mind the fray in the hem or how the strings were missing from the hood. It was Harry in every sense. And it was enough for her.

She thought that was the end of it, truly. She figured she could take a deep breather and let the stress of the day ease out of her veins. That now, with the university behind her and her classes over for the day, she could settle into her work and let the soft melodies of her playlist distract her.

Sitting on the floor, her legs folded neatly in front of her, she picked up her brush delicately between her fingers and her thumb, twiddling it around and biting her lips. When she went to reach for the paint the cap seemed looser than usual. When she picked it up, the top fell to the floor, spinning out to a step a few feet away. Her acrylic dried out presumably from sitting open for days while she worked on her studies and pushed away her art classes.

Portfolios were bare, sketchbooks a mess and worse, she was falling so far behind she was grinding out projects at an inhuman pace. All to simply be rejected or judged poorly. Nothing was ever enough and soon she would become just another burn out if she couldn’t pull it together.

Picking up the bottle, she searched for any signs of wet paint still surviving. She squeezed and turned it hoping to find a glimmer of anything. When she let go, in defeat, remaining acrylic splattered across her cheats and into her hair. Sticky and half dried.

Setting the bottles down, she reminded herself to breathe. To remember how she’d even got here. She was lucky, she had already made it farther than most of her old peers.

‘It couldn’t possibly get any worse.’ She thought out loud, keeping up her fading smile to try and keep her eye from twitching. Ever the optimist, she decided to simply move on, enjoy a nice brewed cup of coffee before settling down to watch one of the shows she had thrown herself into to distract her from the harsh realities of the stressful life she was living currently.

Trudging a few feet from her room to the kitchen, she saw the counter sprinkled with brown and white sugars and flour. It was a mess, one her lovely roommate had left, but one she could deal with later. She didn’t mind the chaos so much.

What she did mind was the sticky note attached to the coffee pot, stained brown on the bottom, grounds stuck underneath it on the stove. It was pink with curly lettering and a half hearted frowning face. ‘Out of coffee. Running to the store tonight after class.’ It read.

It shouldn’t have pissed her off, but her blood was heating up and her brain pounded in her skull. She couldn’t cozy up, it was far too cold. Fine. Her paint was dried. She was tired a few night ago, honest mistake. She could go buy more soon. Her coffee was gone. She found it in herself to brush it off, smiling to herself at the sight of a fresh pot of coffee for the morning. The longer the wait, the more worth it, it would surely be. She could be patient. She was patient.

She would focus her anger into something productive. She could wash the dishes, she guessed. Clean out the sink that was littered in stained plates and empty mugs. She would scrub until her fingers resembled those of her grandmas. Finger tips littered with wrinkles from decades of love, only hers would be shriveled from the constant presence of water bathing them.

And she forgot about her worries for a minute. Hot water running over her skin, mug slowly filling under the stream of water as her eyes drifted off. She saw herself sock clad feet, dancing along the tiled floors to a soft melody that resembled a love song. And beside her was a larger pair of feet, swaying along to the beat and laughing along about how neither of them knew how to dance. But they would learn.

They had the whole world at their feet and their youth still surrounding them. These were the good years, and it could only get better.

The door opened with such veracity, she was so sure it would come off the hinges. Startled, her head whipped to the door, already on edge, already struggling to calm herself down.

“Y/n/n?” His accent was thick and low. She had never felt more relieved to see someone so much.

His eyes were the purest shade of green she had ever seen. They put her art to shame. It’s why she never painted him. There was more mixture of colors that could capture the way they twinkled. Even when they were dim with anger or despair, they held so much depth it felt so impossible to paint. No talent could make her lose herself in the greens like his eyes could.

“Harry.” She breathed his name out like it was the best thing she could ever have. He could see the way her eyes gleamed and glistened at him, lips pulled into a genuine smile, softer than usual, but he blamed it on her eight a.m class.

She smelled like espresso, the coffee pot filling with murky water in the sink. Coffee and paint. She didn’t set the mug running under the water down, but the overflow splashing onto her knuckles reminded her to put it on the drying rack.

When she turned, he was there, a hand guiding her closer to him on her back, and lowered eyes looking into hers.

His lips felt like heaven on hers, and she wished he would have kept them there forever, but much to her dismay, he pulled away just as quickly as he came. Already dropping his bags down and grumbling about something that had happened in his organic chemistry class. Something about his professor, or whatever. She stopped listening to lean on the counter, she reminded herself to try and breathe.

“God, he’s such a moron.” He moaned, rubbing his temples. She did the same with her back turned. When she faced him, she plastered on a false smile.

“It can’t be that bad.” She tried to reason. He rolled his eyes, grumbling about how she was far too kind, too patient. So she turned her back to him again, fighting away the urge to grumble something back to him. Kindness was not the same as optimism, something that was wearing very thin in the usually very bubbly girl. It was that trait she carried so much over that balanced out the bad that Harry could bring. His glass-half-empty point of view and his constant grumbling about anyone who wasn’t her.

He continued complaining about his day, unaware of how his love was just a few feet away, struggling from her own stress, gripping the counter so harshly her knuckles turned white.

“Sometimes I wish I was an art major like you. God, it seems so much easier.” He didn’t mean it like that, she knew he didn’t mean it like that. She agreed, even. After all, she wasn’t taking organic chemistry or studying the human body in such depth as he did. She studied Van Gogh and Picasso. The crazy man who really wasn’t all that crazy who cut off his own ear. She reminded herself to breathe, just breathe. But when she took that deep breath in, it got stuck.

Why couldn’t she breathe? Why was it stuck in her throat, refusing to escape? She grew frustrated, not with him, but with herself. Tears brimmed her eyes so much, even the plates right beside her blurred into a haze of nothing. There was nothing left to distract her, to keep her up. The sink was empty, she was just running the water by now. And the sound of it should have calmed her but instead she felt very similarly to some of the greats. She could cover her ears and scream all she wanted. But would it ever be heard?

The soft shaking of her shoulders alerted him first. How pitiful she sounded, silently crying and huffing up small gasps to keep her sorrow that way. But he was so smart, in her eyes, even though he thought the exact opposite, even smarter than herself. He knew before she could even try to pull herself together.

“Love, hey.” His voice was soft, like he was unsure of what to do. And when he turned, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed. There she was, his love crying and falling apart so openly and all he could do was stand there like a big idiot.

Luckily for him, she’d made the first move, wrapping her arms up around him so tightly, all he had to do was pull her closer.

“Y/n/n, whats wrong?” He rubbed her hair, pulling the ends gently between his fingers.

“I’m a failure!” It was rare that Y/n broke down like this. It seemed impossible on some days. How upbeat and unfazed she carried herself. Always walking around with a warm smile plastered on her face. But she was only human. It had to happen sometimes. It was only natural.

Pulling her away, he held onto her to keep her steady. His thumbs rubbed at her tears gently. Her gorgeous eyes, once sparkling were now clouded by her own sadness. A wave of emotion he somehow hadn’t read from her moments ago.

“I mean, look at me, Harry! I’m barely scraping by in my math class, I’ve been surviving off of the same three paintings all semester and I smell like wet dirt! And don’t you dare say I don’t because I can smell it and I can see the grounds on my skin! Right next to the dry paint that I can’t even use!” Harry couldn’t help the way he laughed. Not at her, but for her. To her, the smell of coffee and paint was something so sickening. He would think the same if he were her. Inhaling the fumes every second of his life for years. But to him, she was a breath of fresh air. The chaos in her life something so extraordinary compared to his LED white lab lifestyle he had submitted himself to.

His hand wrapped around hers, which was now poking into his chest pathetically, her lips quivering like it physically pained her to be so upset.

“What?” She sniffled, almost embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze. Normally so stone cold, but one she had learned to read over time. The very small changes in the way he crinkled his nose or moved his brows. She couldn’t read it now, though. Not with the blinding tears falling down her cheeks.

There was no amount of times Harry could swipe his thumbs over her cheek, more and more would stain them it seemed like. And he didn’t quite get it. How could he? While she was breaking down about her failures all he could see was a woman who had already given so much and held no bitterness to those who caused her the pain. She could only reflect it back onto herself.

And while she talked down on herself, crying about her stress and how run down she must have looked to him, all Harry could think was how she could be Mona Lisa if Mona Lisa had a prettier face.

“Nothing.” He whispered, voice sticky and wet from not talking for so long. Her tears rolled down slower until nothing was left, eyes stuck forever searching his for any sign of disgust, but it never came.

“I just love you, is all.” Y/n could’ve laughed at how sappy her otherwise grumpy boyfriend was being. His dopey smile and kind eyes looking at her in a way she hadn’t seen all day. She almost forgot completely why she was upset, if it weren’t for the empty hole in her heart still eating away at her.

“I love you too.” She laughed, more so at herself than him at how quickly her frown had turned into a smile.

“Good.” He took her hand, slotting her arm around the small of his back so that his could rest over her shoulders. He could rest his head over hers and whisper all the sweet nothings that always seemed to charm her into a lavender haze.

And the laughter she emitted only reminded the both of them of how peaceful even the heaviest of rains could be.

To Harry, in many ways Y/n was the sun. Sometimes the clouds like to cover it, but they always pass by, and the sun comes out again.

[zimthandmade]

I hope you have a good day, friend.

Thank you for your art, you absolute sunshine! Your creative energy is unmatched. Keep doing what you're doing. I want to get lost in this wonderful world of your creation.

You have a talent for making characters come to life and feel real. I aspire to make art with this same level of conceptual realism. (Can I, in theory, ask for art advice if I ever muster up the courage?)

Can we see more art with L, please? 👉👈

( What does his room look like? Do you think he has other interests besides detective work? What's his sexuality? Will his lower back ever not hurt? Is he lonely? Does he have empathy? Does he feel like a horrible person or a failure deep down? What is his favourite food (non-sweet)? Do you think he's autistic? Deontology vs utilitarianism: L's opinion? His thoughts on Mello and Near? What advice would he give to Wammy kids if he was completely honest?)

Sorry for this insane amount of questions about your headcanons, feel free to answer all, some, or none of them in art or text. 🙇‍♂️

Thank you!

- obsessed with your vision, T. R.

[English is my second language, sorry for possible mistakes.]

Okay wow, thank you for taking the time to write this all out! :D Sure, have some Wammy's teen L & Watari concept art!

To your questions:

What does his room look like? You mean his room at Wammy’s? Or where he lives as an adult? I’m gonna answer either way. ROOM 217 L was one of the few exceptions at Wammy’s, being an actual orphan and living there permanently, so he got his own room and didn’t have to share it with a roommate. He got a corner room, so two sides with windows. And it was A. MESS. The floor was so severly littered with all kind of shit, there was a shape on the floor where the door scraped the stuff out of the way upon opening. I can imagine he rarely pulled the curtains open and rarely opened the windows, so the air in there was thick af. L’S RESIDENCE I headcanon Watari offered L a secluded mansion or something similar at some countryside in scotland or something. Watari is rich after all and I’m sure he owns property. L set his space up in the attic and doesn’t really uses any of the rest of the house. He has staff that regularly comes to keep the property clean and neat but the staff never met L and doesn’t really know who they’re working for. Maybe the mansion is even urban legend talk in the surrounding area. They saw a creepy figure staring out of the attic windows and the kids try to break in every now and then because everybody thinks it’s unoccupied. Maybe someone from the staff threw a party there once because “pff come on, nobody lives there, it’s an empty house, nobody will know” and L heard activities downstairs. Maybe he crept downstairs and mingled with the guests pretending to be a friend. The residence has a server room, maybe in the cellar.

Do you think he has other interests besides detective work? Oh yeah definitely. I think there are very little things L is not interested in. That’s one of his big perks. He researches virtually anything and can pretty much get into anything. That's why he can easily seem like he’s an expert in any topic because he probably read into it already. He was wondering one night about “how DO helicopters work though…?” and then he spent the next 7 hours watching helicopter videos, reading wikipedia articles about that stuff and a few years later he can get in a helicopter with Light any fly the thing.

What's his sexuality? I’m hesitant about answering this because everybody seems to have strong opinions about it and I don’t want to step on anyones feet. But since you’re asking for my opinion and not everybody elses: L feels straight to me.

Will his lower back ever not hurt? No.

Is he lonely? Absolutely. But he pretends he’s not. He pretends he doesn’t need anybody and permanently finds excuses for how he doesn’t even like people and he chooses to be alone. He fills the loneliness with hyperfixations and productive distractions.

Do you think he's autistic?I headcanon him having aspergers, so yes.

Thanks again for the ask <3

----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵