#ive been working on this for a while but im finally finished!!! i do plan to do all of them eventually

[mcdbutgay]

hey guys

[kellystar321]

.

[taketheringtolohac]

2.5 classes done. one more to go.

[tinycozycomfort]

rest in the cup of my palms (part one)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter one: drawing from life

series masterlist | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or  you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: ellie volunteers joel to model for a drawing class on campus. you find someone worth dreaming about.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), unnecessary descriptions of joel being beautiful, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn, joel miller wins girl dad of the century via unanimous vote (for this chapter) -> masturbation (f), intense feelings of loneliness, existential rumination

word count: 7.2k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: some good ol' work up, necessary to explain the rated r plans i have for them. ive been terrified of writing a series but i'm also tired of editing everything down to be one-shot appropriate, so today we try. im full-swing into my fixation era and on my 'i cant be loved + ive known how to love you for 1,000 lifetimes' bullshit. this fic is as self indulgent as they come, but i hope you can enjoy it! and for those of you willing to trudge through this with me, i love you.

read on ao3

“To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed.”

Susan Sontag - On Photography 

───────

A halo of hot light falls through the pane of glass above the sink. Joel’s got one eye pinched semi-shut, trying hard to focus on not burning himself while he drains boiling water out of a pot of pasta. 

When he woke up this morning, the blinds on every window in the house had been strung up to the lip. He’d barely gotten a hand around one of the strings in the glass frame above the couch before Ellie appeared out of nowhere to literally slap his wrist, ‘I’m drawing’. Still groggy, he tried to challenge her, ‘Do they all have to be open?’, to which she patiently explained—for what she probably feels is the millionth time—that she needed the extra light, and if she had them all open when she started, they’d need to stay that way until she was done. 

So he left her to work, knowing she’s got midterms to finish, walking around with his eyes closed until he felt his way back into his bedroom. He came out once for coffee, and not again until dinner. This is their weekend.

Joel spoons out some of the food into bowls, leaving them to stay warm by the stove before he steps into the dining room. He stops himself half-way, hanging back in the archway to give his daughter another minute as the last shreds of strong sunlight start to wane out.

Ellie’s right where he left her: at the table, cross-legged in her chair with an eraser-less pencil held tightly in her fist. She’s hunched over a large pad of paper, the back of it lifted at an angle under a pile of old books and dog-eared tool catalogs. The sketchbook she uses as a reference guide is propped up on the corner of her left knee, leaned against the edge of the table. She rifles between two pages of it, eyeing some of the quick sketches—visual notes, as she puts it—that she took in class to help her navigate the larger, more detailed version with ease. Silent save for her short huffs of breath, she’s concentrated, wrist-corner lifted to not misplace any graphite. Her process is always the same; a little creature of habit.

She’s wearing her headphones, the cord winding dangerously low, threatening to dip into a cup of water she’d placed in the empty triangle between her lap—the same one he’d seen her with six hours ago. She hasn’t even touched it, still full nearly to the brim. He wonders if she’s gotten up at all. The girl works herself a bit too hard, he thinks, always falls head first into whatever project she’s working on, nothing if not like her dad. The corner of his mouth tugs up so tight it hurts. What is he going to do without her?

He just stands there, feet crossed on top of each other and arms in a twist over his chest, and watches her while she’s not looking, knowing she still gets shy sometimes when he catches her like this. She’s the sweetest reminder of everything good Joel’s ever done; another life he’d gladly offer his own for. 

It’s always come naturally—to be what someone needs of him—in a way that transcends reward or expectation. 

Joel had been his brother’s primary caregiver first, from birth and then well into their adulthood—always around to bail him out of jail or lend him money he didn’t have. Because he cared. Loved him. He couldn’t ever really say it, always had a problem with the wording, but he knew that at least some of what he wanted to explain had come across. He can see it in the way Tommy is with his own family.

His brother has Maria now, and the kids, and seeing how happy Tommy could be in spite of their upbringing was the first time Joel had ever put his priorities into question. Somewhere in all the caring-for he did, he’d forgotten about himself; the possibility of having his own wife and child and home. He’d always ached for that, deep down, but didn’t even know it was an option until he saw it happen. By that point, he wasn’t sure if he could do any of it, or if he even had the time to start. Then came Ellie.

She entered his life when a close friend of Tommy’s had died unexpectedly and no one came forward to claim her, unknowingly giving him a second chance; one he worked to make count. She was tough to crack at first—also like him in that way—but the love had always been there, waiting its turn after all the awkwardness and misunderstanding and adapting before finally showing its face. She’d needed him then, as much as his brother had all those years ago, carrying on the torch of purpose that Joel so feverishly searched for. 

He rolls his eyes at himself; he’s been having too many misty-eyed moments about her lately. It’s so unserious, the actuality of it; of being her dad. Going to work and the supermarket and museums, being there to chaperone field-trips and take one-thousand mostly-blurry photos of her graduation. But it’s been everything to him. He’s desperately clung to the five years of her life that she’s shared with him, and he’s so proud to witness it, but he knows she’s getting to a point where she needs to be her own person. He’ll miss her when she’s only home for summers, then only home for Christmas, then only home once in a while—so he holds on to every bit, and tries not to think about what’s next for him. 

He walks closer to her, tilting his head to try and steal a glance of what it is she’s working on. He catches a glimpse of the face of a woman, a portrait from shoulders-up. She’s pretty, with a soft and thoughtful expression, looking downward off the side of the pad. From what he could make out between the movements of Ellie’s hand, she even looks a little shy. His daughter rubs at the cheeks and nose of the girl on the paper, imitating the shadow-less areas where light would fall. Joel is mesmerized by the way she creates so effortlessly, like breathing. 

Without moving her head, she pulls a tiny white bobble out from her ear, “I know you’re watching me, weirdo.” 

Joel laughs, wet and thick in his mouth with the emotion he’s still climbing down from, “Is this how you treat me when I’m trying to feed you?” 

She smiles, he can see the fat of her cheek rounding out even from this angle, “You should’ve just said that.” 

Ellie leaves her set-up untouched, just getting up and moving down to an empty seat while Joel goes to bring the food out. 

She shifts around in her seat, feet folded again on the flat of it, eating too fast—ill-mannered—and it reminds Joel of all the nights they spent at Tommy’s for family dinner, right at the beginning, back when they’d just begun to become close. When she’d push his patience with her behavior to see if he’d say something, to see if he still paid her mind—he always did, still does, “Jesus Christ, kid. Have I taught you nothing?”

She holds back a laugh, mouth full of tomato sauce, “You love it. I’m charming.” 

He snorts, the two of them falling into a comfortable quiet for only a few minutes before she breaks it again, “Speaking of how much you love me, I need to ask you for a favor.” 

“Oh no,” He jokes, “What now?” 

“Remember those drawings I turned in of you last month?” She starts pushing around the last bite of her spaghetti, never a good sign, but he nods anyway for her to continue, “Well my teacher really liked them. And there’s been an issue with finding people to sit for the drawings. Sooo,” she really drags it out, “I signed you up.”

“What do you mean, you signed me up? For what?” 

“To model,” Joel’s mouth pops open in an immediate attempt to oppose, but Ellie’s quicker, “Didn’t you say you’d always support me in school?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Joel finishes his plate and then they’re both just clinking their forks against porcelain for a heavy eightnineten seconds before she gives it another shot.

“C’mon, seriously. I’ll get extra credit if you do it,” She lets out a long sigh like she can’t believe she has to explain anything more than that, “My professor teaches a Monday session for the master’s program and they need people. It’s just one time.” 

“Ellie. It’s Sunday. How are you gonna tell me this now?” 

“Please, you just sit there for, like, two hours while they draw you and you don’t have to talk. That’s two of your favorite things. Three if you consider that you’d be helping me out.” she looks at him with a sticky-sweet smile, eyes crinkled—like she knows she’s getting away with it. 

She might be. 

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to do it?” Joel gathers up their plates from the table to carry them into the kitchen. Ellie picks up their still half-full glasses as an excuse to follow him.

“Because we all have class together tomorrow on the other side of campus. Plus, you’re easy to draw and—” 

“Hey.” 

She ignores the flat look he shoots her, flipping on the sink, “That’s a compliment, by the way. But really, it’s no effort and you’d be getting me into a good place with my professor ‘cause she’ll be super grateful. The budget’s kinda tight this semester.” 

“Then what am I payin’ for, if you’re gonna make me do this stuff myself?” It’s a half-hearted dig—he’s mostly annoyed because she probably already figured out he’s going to agree.

Her little smirk graduates to a shit-eating grin, she knows it, “Best dad ever.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Just because I knew you were gonna say that, I actually signed you up for two.”

───────

Joel stumbles out of the elevator, filing hurriedly through groups of students with a new-found purpose now that he’s managed to make it to the correct floor. Ellie made a point of not mentioning that he had to be at the school at 7:30am until she was saying goodnight to him a few hours ago, because she thought it would dissuade him—she was right—so now he’s running late on top of everything else. 

He’s got the little scaled-down, splotchy-printed version of the campus map gripped tightly between his hands. Room 14B is seemingly only two turns and one corner from where he stands—if he’s holding it the right way. He wants to ask for directions, but he feels too out-of-place to set aside his embarrassment. He’s older than at least half the staff, and some of the attendees are even younger, and he doesn’t want to run the risk of looking incapable, as foolish as it is. He wishes Ellie would have just offered to show him where to go before she headed off to her own class. 

For someone who prides themselves on their ability to parent, he feels hopeless now without his daughter; not for the first time, but it’s especially harsh considering the circumstances. It hurts something bittersweet, to think about how much more they’ve bonded since he started working less and she decided to live at home her first year of college (though it’s coming to an end sooner than he’d like). Again, too many sad thoughts, and she’s not here, so he trudges on. 

He walks in two more circles before he finds the right place—down a fucking hallway and hidden behind a door he didn’t know he was allowed to open, of course. A woman with long, dark blonde hair is sitting at a desk by the door when he enters. She doesn’t look up at him.

“Good morning, ma’am. Sorry I’m late. My—uh. You teach my daughter? I’m here for—” 

“Ellie’s dad,” She cocks her head without meeting his eye, “Late? You’re about twenty minutes early, she told me you probably would be.” 

She knows me too well, the brat. He chastises her in his mind but outwardly he corrects himself, “Yes, right, sorry. I’m a little turned around.” 

“That’s alright. There’s just a waiver you need to sign, and you can get undressed in the bathroom down the hall. I’ll give you a cover-up to wear until I come to grab you.” 

Right, he’d have to be naked. He already knew that—sort-of—having seen dozens of Ellie’s sketches from semesters past. He knows the students don’t see it that way, knows that they’ve all drawn the same things so many times they would be desensitized to his nudity. They’d probably all be desensitized to him as well; in their eyes, he was just a reference, as familiar as any of the memorialized piles of fruit or arrangements of glass that Ellie's also brought home. 

Still, Joel feels a wash of anxiety come over him. He’s more than comfortable in his body, after putting it through so much, but this degree of vulnerability is severe in comparison to vanity or sex—it’s a state of living he hasn’t participated in for a long time. He doesn’t like to be seen, and being documented—having physical evidence of how he’s interpreted by others—makes his stomach turn. He hasn’t looked in a mirror for more than a moment in months, but it can’t be that bad, right? Ellie’s always given him a favorable light, but he worries she has a bias beyond belief. What if he sees something about himself he doesn’t like? What if everyone’s been able to see it all along?

Caught in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize the woman is still talking, “We have a scheduled break halfway through class. You can leave then. Next week it’ll flip and you can come for the latter half so they can finish.” She slides the form and a swath of black fabric across the table, and almost like she can sense his apprehension, finally raises her head to give him a meaningful look, “Thank you again for doing this. I know it can feel weird, but it makes a difference for them. There’ll be a joint show at the end of the month, too, with Ellie’s class.” 

He just offers her a little nod of his head, thank you, signing the form and padding to the bathroom to unceremoniously disrobe in an empty stall.

It’s just two hours. 

───────

If they make you take another figure-drawing class, you’re going to scream. 

You’d think this far into a second degree, the school board would stop requiring you to take what is essentially the same class every semester. Sincerely, the only thing that changes is how long the session runs and what number follows the class title. It’s getting old. 

To be fair, it’s not necessarily that you dislike drawing—it provides a pretty firm foundation for your personal work to stand on—it’s just tedious. Nothing is inspiring about assignment-based work, especially when they’ve decided the only way you can prove your skill-set is to make you draw the same three objects five-thousand ways. 

But it’s not up to you. 

So here you are again, two weeks from spring break, back in this frigid building after surviving another forty minutes of traffic, body still stiff from fighting the urge to fall asleep at the wheel. 

It’s important, you remind yourself, to show up and put your fullest effort into everything, no matter how much you don’t enjoy it. Even if just to prove to yourself you can still finish things.

Coming back to school was an idea you’d toyed with for years after graduating. 

There had been a lot of pressure on you to go in the first place, from your parents and your teachers and your nightmare of an ex, because according to them you’d get nowhere without it. After enough pressure and in a need to appease them, you folded and went; suffered every long night and pushed through every period of self-doubt and smiled for every ‘worth-capturing’ moment right up to the end. And then when it was over, gone faster than you could comprehend, you felt like something was taken away from you, even with how low it had made you—the worst kind of stockholm syndrome. 

In an attempt to keep some momentum, you were over-eager for more right out of the gate. There was an initial need to continue, because you’d been reliant on academic structure just by the nature of familiarity, and maybe a little ill-prepared to face who you were without guidance. Without the instruction of someone with two degrees and a smoking addiction and no teaching license. Now it sounds silly, but then you spent a few too many nights uncontrollably looking into post-grad institutions or internship programs, googling professors and reading forums for first-hand accounts. 

Then, after a year, the thought of continuing got a little less exciting, and you became comfortable in the freedom of nothing after being in school your whole life. So you pretended to research, emailed everyone about how great the options looked, signed up for one-on-ones you didn’t show up for—until people stopped asking. 

It was at that point that you finally had the time to process what you were doing and why, and accepted that you didn’t have to have all the answers, despite what everyone had led you to believe. Truthfully, you still had no idea who you wanted to be and that’s okay—living with it and living alongside it weren’t mutually exclusive. You just took time to practice being yourself—sucked up the embarrassment and did the work, little exercises in unleashing yourself onto the world instead of letting every experience be done to you. If you were going to do anything anymore, even something like continuing your education, it had to be on your own terms, to try it all in the effort of self-discovery.

So yes, applying and getting accepted and attending every class—even this one—this time around was for you—to better yourself instead of just filling an expectation. You’re determined to make good on the opportunity.

And it has been better, so far. You even have friends this time around. Okay, two, and one of them is your roommate, but it's more of a support system than what you had going into undergrad.

You say yes now, too; not to everything, but to more than before. Which is maybe how you got roped into getting ‘introductory’ drinks later this evening with everyone, now that more people have joined the program as winter thaws out and it’s easier to commute. It’ll be nice to swap ideas and catch up and maybe even get laid instead of spending hours staring at the ceiling and willing time to pass. That thought alone is enough to keep you here.

It’s just two hours.  

The room this semester is a little bigger, at least; probably the only perk that moving up so gracefully from Drawing II to Drawing III had earned you. It’s still unfortunately just another classroom; windowless to protect it from outside influence and drenched in fluorescent light to create a controlled environment. Old, stained art horses form a circle in the center of the space, crowding around a painted-gray wood pallet like an audience. A metal stool sits atop the make-shift stage, providing a seat for the subject. It’s clinical, the way the elements come together; a perfectly disarrayed scene that’s been neatly curated to emulate every ‘socratic seminar’ model you’ve seen in education since you can remember. Always the same.

You’re hoping for someone new today to rest on the chair; the department has been in less-than-preferred financial standing lately, so you’ve seen the same faces interchanged for  most of the term.

Your professor is at her desk when you make your way in, greeting you with a grin despite the tired look on her face. A hardworking woman, the shadows under her eyes gave her a beauty you could only explain as determined. You knew she cross-taught for both sections of the department, and you respected her for it. It couldn’t be anything short of a struggle to toggle between those modes of seriousness—to have the patience to answer the younger students’ unending questions and the passion to keep the post-grads engaged. 

Moving to get a seat as far on the outskirts of the cluster as possible, you watch as your classmates arrive slowly until all the slots are filled. No one really talks, probably all similarly bogged down by the early start and the cold weather outside. Ian, your friend who’d invited you out tonight, waves at you from four horses down and you halfheartedly nod back at him. 

“Good morning everyone, we’ve only got two more classes after this until your week off, so we’ll make this next one a two-parter and have critique on the twenty-first. I want you guys to focus on composition more than anything else,” She turns in her seat to write some names on the board behind her, “We’ll go for two hours then break. If your name’s up here we’ll have a conversation about your thesis. The rest of you can go.” 

Thankfully you’ve been spared this time—granted another seven-nights-straight writing the segment of your thesis that was meant to be finished two months ago. Your brain hurts inside of your skull. 

You set up your little station, sketchpad raised against the easel, body straddling the drawing horse as you fiddle with some dirty erasers in your pack. 

You can hear the slap slap slap of the model’s feet on the concrete floor as they enter—a long gait paired with hard, thudding steps; probably a man by the sound of it. Tall and heavy. 

“Okay guys, we’re starting,” She winds up the dial on a plastic kitchen timer and sets it on the edge of her desk, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be making a few passes throughout and we’ll exchange thoughts.”

You roll your neck, knowing the model tends to take a minute to find a comfortable position, and that people watching didn’t do anything to help. A tempered soundtrack—the poorly contained buzzing of the clock and the moan of the air-conditioning—plays on in the background. Your leg is asleep. It’s cold in here. You count to thirty in your head. That’s enough time, right? You shift again, stretching your arms once more just in case.

Looking up, you peer over the side of the easel to get a quick look at the model’s pose and immediately do a double take. 

It is a man.

He’s sitting on the chair, facing the girl a few seats down from you so that you can only see him from a three-quarters view. He has one long, thick leg pushed against the lower bar of the stool, the other one, closest to you, hiked up on the seat, folded so that his knee points towards the ceiling. His arms are crossed, hugging his erect shin with his wide back wrapped over his thigh, effectively shielding the ‘naked’ parts of him from view. He looks shy, but not uncomfortable; either like he’s done this before or he’s accustomed to protecting himself—to hiding. 

The frame of his body is captivating; he looks strong but used, little nicks and scars littering his shoulders and hands. Weathered. As you make your way up his torso, you find it’s a similar state of experienced, tan profile and neck bearing the slightest difference in color from the soft of his side, and you can see the faintest curve of a hem-shaped tan-line across the dip in his shoulder. Little wisps of gray-dusted brown curls frame the edges of his face. He’s beautiful in a gentle way, with a dark, heavy brow that leads into the sharp slope of his nose, plush lips pursed like he’s concentrating. 

Part of you feels bad about staring, but it’s easy enough to disguise it as working, so you map him with your gaze again and again until you can still see him when you blink. It takes the constant movement of your classmate’s hand sketching something in your periphery to remember you’re being timed. 

You choke out a cough, repositioning your body and grabbing some charcoal. 

The way you usually approach this task is simple: get down the general gist of the body, careful to keep out the details of the person in favor of capturing light and weight—there’s a graded challenge to be considered, after all. 

Yet as you watch him, you decide you can fulfill the requirements in a way that gives him more room to exist. You crop the drawing tighter, paying careful attention to the landscape of his face; the hills of his cheekbones and the valley between his lips. You want to immortalize him. 

You’re suddenly deeply concerned with the history that’s woven itself into the shape of him, in what happened to make him look this way. It seems like life has been useful to him, but that he’d had to grow from something to make it so—like he had to work for it. He’s the living manifestation of his own grief and enjoyment and passion, and you want to know all of it.

Countless minutes pass as you take him in and spill him out, fingers moving quickly to recreate the weighted feeling of his posture, exhausted and heavy, muscles held together on the string of bone that runs through the center of his back. You write him down, again and again, flipping to a new page half-way through to get in one last version of him—one for yourself. 

You’ve never seen him before, but you see part of yourself in him. He mirrors the anxious peace you’ve been operating under for the last few years, humming with energy but willfully stagnant. It makes you feel seen, less burdened by your recent inability to connect—he makes you want to keep trying.

You wonder if he writes or draws or makes, and if he’d show you. You want to hear him talk. You want to see the other side of him, literally and metaphorically. You want to feel—

The tinny ring of the alarm sounds off, and you’re taken out of the fantasy. 

The second drawing is only really half done, but you didn’t make it with the intention of sharing it anyway, so you flip back to the original to hide it.. 

You try not to watch the man when he stands—remembering that just because he’d been hidden before doesn't mean he wasn't naked the entire time—maybe more for your sake than his. You peek around the room instead, taking a healthy, albeit competitive, glance around for other interpretations of the man; did they see him too, the way you do?

When you look up to take a comparative look, he’s gone. You’re a little disappointed, admittedly, but there’s still one more chance to interact with him, and you can make up for it then. You start to pack up your things in an effort to make it to the parking lot before the crowd. A sudden rise in the volume level in the room tells you that the shock of the early morning has started to burn off. You try to tune it out, so much so that you don’t hear someone walking up behind you. 

“Wow.” It’s a man’s voice, deep and smooth. You pivot in your seat. 

It’s him, in all his communal-robe wearing glory, even more gorgeous from head on. It’s a pleasant surprise, this reveal; his beauty is evenly distributed, like a handwritten note that extends into the margins or when a movie’s ending is just as good as the start.

“Oh. Hi. Thank you.” You feel exposed, like you got caught doing something bad, even though there are ten other people in the room with even more detailed portraits of him.

“Can I see the other one, too?” 

“What?” 

“You flipped your page. I didn’t see anyone else do that. Did you make two?” 

You just nod, shocked that he was watching you back, peeling back the paper to reveal to him the unfinished drawing. He won’t question it if you don’t give him a reason to. 

“Are you gonna finish it?” He asks, eyes rolling over it with an intense curiosity.

“Uh, probably not. I don’t like it as much as the first one.” Maybe lying your way through this would provide better reasoning than ‘I wanted a part of you that no one else could see’.

“Can I have it?” 

When you can’t find something to say fast enough, he just continues.

“I’m sorry, is that rude? If you’re just gonna get rid of it, I’ll take it. It just… looks like me. I mean they all do, I’ve been told I have a ‘simple face’,” He coughs awkwardly in acknowledgement of his own tangent, “I just mean to say that it feels a lot like me. If that makes sense.”

“You’re actually very visually interesting.” Is the first thing you can think of, and fuck, did that come out really fucking wrong, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe it’s better if he takes it, if it’ll stop you from fumbling, “But yeah, you can have it.” You pull a little plastic mail-tube out of your bag, ripping the drawing free from its perforated tether and rolling it in on itself. 

The edges of his mouth pull up, a cute little thing, free of laughter or judgement, “Thank you. I’m Joel.” One of his hands drapes across his stomach, palm spread over the knot of the wrap—he’s holding himself at length again. Why? 

“Hi Joel. You seem to know a fair amount about this whole thing. Not your first time, then?” You offer him your name in return, and he parrots it back—guard still up, still standing too far away. 

“It is, actually. The closest I’ve come to this is sitting in the yard for my daughter,” He watches as you slide the drawing into the cylindrical case, “You’re very talented.” 

“Thank you.” It feels weird to hear the praise twice, “How’d they get you to pose for no money? I heard the department’s a little strapped. I’ve been subbing in for the undergrads too when I can.” 

“My daughter volunteered me, she’s on the other side of the program. Your teacher was giving out extra credit.” He takes the roll when you pass it to him, going out of his way to grab it from the middle, his thumb grazing yours. Your skin heats up where he’s touched it, and you look down at the floor, suddenly nervous. 

“Wow, this is the first time I’m hearing anything about that.” You continue to pack away items into your bag, “I’m owed quite a lot if that’s true.” 

His face falls in on itself in a wince, “Oh. Didn’t mean to do her in like that.” You can feel him looking at you for a few beats too long, and his eyes narrow like he’s about to say more. 

In the same moment, as if summoned, your professor turns on her heel, walking over to your bench. 

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay without it. I’ll see you next week, right?”

He shakes a little, releasing his stare, and throws a thumbs up in your direction with his protective hand, “Yeah, see ya next week. Nice to meet you.” 

───────

After another four-hour class and a too-long nap and a break for dinner, everyone from this morning joins together in a few cars to head to a bar downtown. You meet up with Ian, who offered to drive as a bargaining chip, because he knows by now that you’d back out if you had to show up on your own.

The bar is dark and divey and perfect for being overly-observant in secret. You’ve warmed up to this crowd enough, but you’re still on plus-one basis with a lot of them, Ian serving as your invitation. You like to just listen to them at first during these outings, strategically planning your involvement so you don’t feel put on the spot when they give you a turn.

It’s a lot like being in class; the group of you occupying a dimly lit corner, a round-table of bodies, with the person in the center alternating as the topic changes. Tonight you stay at the furthest end.

You cling to the single tequila soda you ordered, watery and flat by now with pea-sized ice chips bobbing around in the center to avoid the heat of your fingers. You watch them swim, tipping your cup to see them swirl in a frenzied circle until they disappear. 

Some guy from your English class—Andre or Andrew or who cares—is talking at you, making his best attempt at what you think is supposed to be flirting. It’s really just him asking your opinions on his five favorite books, not hiding his disapproval when you mention you haven’t read one or the other. 

You watch Ian, who left you twenty minutes ago in search of the bar-top for another drink. He’s caught now on his third conversation on the way back, maybe thinking he’s doing you a favor by taking his time. You try relentlessly to catch his eye instead, and he bounds over without question when he sees you. The glass of wine in his hand is already half empty, and the English-class-guy spooks at the sight of what he probably thinks is competition. So much for that.

“Having fun?” he prods when he slips in the chair beside you, already aware that you are absolutely very much not having fun. 

Ian’s a nice guy, and he means well. You met him a week into your first semester—almost a year ago now—at orientation, because your last names were the beginning and end of the line of their respective letters. He was from somewhere in Canada, studying photography with a minor in painting and drawing. He’s maybe a year or two older than you, though you’ve never asked to confirm; tall and long and pretty, for lack of a better word, with big eyes and a permanent split in the little bangs that cover his forehead. He’s the first man in years you’ve been comfortable around, never initiating anything or pushing too hard for your friendship. All in all, no one’s been as welcoming to you, except the person you literally live with, and you’re happy to let him drag you out if it means he’ll continue to look after you the way he does.

“Of course, when have you ever known me to have a bad time?” 

“No luck with Adrian?” Adrian. You were close.

“Just likes to hear himself talk, I think. I wasn’t interested in being an audience.” 

He hums, “Someone else on your mind?” 

“Like who?” You lean the lip of your cup against your mouth.

“Saw you making eyes at the model today,” He teases, nudging you in your rib when you take a sip of your drink so that you keel over slightly. You sputter, unamused with the tactic to get you to fess up.

Was it that obvious?

“Isn’t that the point of the class?” 

“Yeah maybe, smartass, but that’s not what I meant. I saw him talking to you, saw you give him a little gift,” He bobs his eyebrows at you suggestively, “Excited for him to come back next week?”

“So I can stare more, you mean?” 

“So you can get his number.” 

“Ian.”

“I’m just saying you should try and find someone outside our section of the building. No writers, either, obviously.” He gestures to where Adrian is already trying his shtick on some girl from your class.

“He’s a little too old for me, don’t you think? His daughter goes here.” You muse. He’s mostly right about you needing to expand your reach, but you won’t let him off that easily.

“Maybe. But if you don’t care, and he doesn’t care, what’s it matter? He’s not too old to fuck you.” He makes a face and you roll your eyes. 

The thought is nice, but you know forging relationships is unlikely when you’re concerned, at least as of late, “I don’t want to spend my night talking about people I’m not going to fuck.” 

“Whatever you say.” He slinks out from his seat, mumbling something about a glass of water. A few steps away, he looks back over his shoulder, “You’re not doomed, by the way,” the asshole can read your mind, “You can enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. You’re allowed to like people.” 

And then you’re alone again. 

It’s like that for another hour, small attempts at chatter and meetings until you realize you’re too tired to fuck anyone, let alone continue to sit upright. Being up so early this morning took more of a toll than an hour nap could fix, and you're begging Ian to take you home. He agrees, spending the trip trying to plan another outing later in the week before everyone’s gone on vacation.

You give him a sleepy goodbye when he pulls into your apartment complex, making sure he’s still going to class tomorrow before letting him drive away. Once you’re inside, slipping quietly in through the front door, you realize your roommate isn’t home. She’s probably still in a late class or at her boyfriend’s or somewhere else. You enjoy the quiet enough to not think about it too hard.

The five sips of tequila-mostly-water has settled into your stomach by now, making you a quarter-second slower when you strip all your clothes off and climb into bed. 

You twist under the sheets, and after a while your skin starts to feel too hot, even in the cold air of your room. Breathing deep, you try to think of something boring to get your mind to still, but when you sense the sleep about to take over, it switches.

You see his face behind your eyelids, the man from today, strong and pretty and delicate, remembering all your favorite details—the length of his fingers and the depth of his voice. You curse yourself for assigning this importance to him. He’s just another page in your portfolio, if you even keep him, yet you can feel a slow heat bubble up at your core when you remember the stretch of his body under the robe. It’s okay to be taken with him, you think, he’s objectively gorgeous. 

Your conversation with Ian replays in your head—less about his sincere advice and more about how you need to get laid. It’s been too long; maybe you are just horny, and maybe taking care of it just this once could be enough to stop this hollow interest from growing. 

You reach a hand down under your blanket, the tips of your digits pushing into the slit of your cunt. You’re wet, arousal tacky and pooled so much that the light pressure you meant to be exploring with is enough to have you accidentally slipping inside. Okay, he’s really hot. So what? Was it really that bad if you thought so?

You dip a finger further in, timid at first; you’re used to keeping quiet for this kind of activity, and even though your roommate was gone when you got here, it doesn’t mean she hadn’t come in in the thirty minutes of rolling around you’d done before giving into your desire. You lay your free hand over your mouth just in case, teeth biting into the meat at the base of your thumb to keep yourself quiet. 

You slide in a second finger to the knuckle to join the first, the light stretch of it enough to make you pant. You see him again, hard and soft and beautiful. You think about what his skin would taste like, if he’d let you sink your teeth into the sinew of his neck. It feels weird to know what he looks like without his clothes, and you’re weirdly proud of yourself for holding back from seeing him fully; it's easier to dream about that way. You wonder how he’d present himself to you, how he’d want to fuck you. You imagine him winding a hand around the hinge of your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the soft of your cheeks. Would he be gentle? Would he make it hurt? You suspect either would be too much. You feverishly palm your clit, hips canting in an effort to climax. The pictures flash faster—his cock in your mouth, his tongue in your cunt, the way he’d spit and grip and hold—and you’re coming, drooling over your hand as you hear him say your name in your mind. 

You take your hand away after a minute, breath pushing out heavily from your nose. It’s fine, you needed to do it, just one time. No shame in that. It’s out of your system now. 

And if you see his face one more time before you fall asleep, it’s probably an afterthought.

───────

By the end of the week, you come to a horrible conclusion. 

It starts the next morning when you take your sketchbook out, itching to get a handle on the many writing assignments you’ve been dutifully ignoring, hoping for an outline or a free-flow of ideas. Nothing comes to mind. You draw a little bit to fill the space while you think, just a mess of material on the page, strokes of your hand that leave barely anything behind. 

Then on Wednesday you’re at your laptop, typing with one hand while the other one slides against the wood of the dining table, down and around in a loop, mimicking the same shape each time. 

And again last night in the shower, letting the shame of a different semi-failed night-out wash over and off of you. You slosh your foot around in the water in the basin below, catching it as it runs down and pools, ankle dragging in a tiny, controlled movement. 

It’s not until now that you put it together.

You’re sitting at your desk, with creative materials at your disposal this time, trying to make sense of what it is you’re forming. You find that no matter the medium, your hand automatically makes a single hard line. The same line, from memory. It’s negligible at first, just a light press of pen or pencil or crayon, until it drags down, down, down. It’s not until you lift your utensil that you recognize it. The hook of a nose and the crest of a top lip. 

A hard pit forms in your stomach, blood draining from your head to gather in the center of your chest, a blooming sickness of obsession you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re drawing him. You’ve been drawing him. You know this feeling, have participated in this kind of behavior. These are the actions that cause the humiliating dregs of attraction to bleed over into fixation—juvenile and universal and unavoidable.  He’s going to be a problem.

[rqbossman]

Hello Mr Bossman! (and possibly anyone else who reads this)

Its an honour to be here, I have a few questions. First i appologise for the long paragraph, you may dismiss it for the questions at the bottom. For context, i am here after finishing TMA and being up to date with TMAP, i then went over and listened to RQG, and have just finished listening to Epilogue 3 and might i just say, good sir I am grateful for your podcasts. I am currently just a few months away from my final exams of High School, and as someone who even just 1 year ago was very lost, struggling with school and being just overwhelmed. TMA isnt exactly comforting, but the characters and plot managed to serve as a good form of escapism while sorting myself out. I found my self engaging more in creative things that i had originally put aside in favour of maths and science (which i hated but thought i needed to do). I started drawing again, even if just fanart. and i found things going well. By finding podcasts, story telling and these communities have helped me in my own understanding of what i want in life. I got an ADHD diagnosis earlier this year, and almost directly after started RQG and as my first hyperfixation (that i was aware of as an hyperfixation) gosh dang it hit hard. (in a good way). Ive been able to do so much more creative writing and drawings, and got re-involved with a small dnd group with some friends who i played one game with almost 4 years ago now. So overall, inspirational sounds cringe, but it was. Im doing my best with the upcoming exams, but trying to get in to Medicine is not my only prority, and the fact ive been re-introduced to my first love (Literature and story telling), im planning to go do an Arts degree and i know i wouldnt have been able to confidently make this decision, or even have survived this long in the school system without the work you and your coworkers do. Now the sap is out of the way, Question time! (if you could answer even just one of these questions it would be so cool)(they go in order of RQ relevant to random stuff)(dont feel pressured to answer all/any. i know i wrote alot): 1. what would you say is the best way to draft out a long-form story. (with "Erasing the Line" as an example) Did you start at the end, with the links to the overarching plot.

2. When working with the players (in a form of TTRPG), what did you do to make sure you didnt miss relevant timing of plot points/ avoid creating spoilers while still giving enough detail?

3. What are good places to start with making a job out of storytelling/voice acting/audio etc. In the case of RQ, how is this a job and where do i sign up please! /j (what i mean is, how is best way/how did you find all the people involved and was there a common path that you were all on before getting to where you are now?) 4. Do you have recommendations for Terry Pratchett Books, i may be an literary-leaning student, but it seems i have never actually properly read any of his books. so where is best place to start?/What did you read first?

5. Similar authors or similar inspirations? Did you have a favourite podcast you listen to in your free time that you havnt had a hand in producing/directing/working on. 6. Favourite song/album/artist. And more specifically, what you like listening to in background when doing either writing or (for ttrpg) character research/game planing. 7. Since the olympics are on at the moment, what has been your favourite sport to watch, if you have been watching at all. Thank you for your time :)

Thankyou for all the kind words. Knowing our work is helping people really keeps our engines fired up. Let's see if I can't answer your questions: 1. I "sandbox" which is where I just shove everything I can think of into an unorganised bullet point list. Characters, setting, plot, all of it in one big mess. Then I decide what type of story you want to tell, copy and paste to a new document and then start to organise the thoughts (with the sandbox on standby if new stuff comes in I don't know what to do with). I think of it like scultping, you cut away bits and reshape until something comes out the other end that is story shaped. Only then do I attempt to build the sandcastle and put something coherant together like a synopsis or scratch draft etc.

2. Very tricky. I did a complete review and update of all notes after each recording session and don't forget the audio eas edited. I made lots of gaffs that you never heard as audience.

3. I contacted anyone I could convince to take part and just proved I was serious by overworking. I don't reccomend that route. Unfortunately it really is "who" you know. That doesn't mean chase established professionals as much as it means you need to get out there and associate with other up-and-comers who match your vibe. For me the route was long and windy and not a particularly good example. 4. I normally recommend people do not read his books in publication order. Don't get me wrong, its wonderful watching his craft grow from one title to the next but I would recommend new readers tip their toe into his later works to see if they like where he ended up before committing the time. I often recommend 'Monstrous Regiment' as people's first one. My favourite though is 'Thief of Time.'

5. I don't get much time to listen to podcasts in the last couple of years. I used to listen to a lot of non fiction. 'Stuff you Should Know' and that ilk. I also read a fair amount of classic YA fiction to unwind (Windinsger trilogy, Bartimeous, stuff like that.) 6. Paul Simon's Graceland but when working I assemble a playlist for each seperate project that is tonally appropriate. If I really need to focus I listen to Classical Minimalism. Or the Old School Runescape soundtrack. I'm allowed to be ecclectic. 7. I am actually in an incredibly busy work crunch at the moment so haven't seen any of it!

[ugly-pickle]

you will always come first ☆ ayato

CHARACTERS: ayato x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: you start to think that he values his duties more than you… but you are proven wrong

GENRE: fluff 💿

W/C: 0.5k

C/W: kissing, physical touch, cussing, and if you squint your eyes you can see some neglect (if theres anything ive missed please let me know!)

A/N: i finished my scara angst at 4:30am… it is currently 7am and i have JUST voted on my own poll……… i have not slept yet. not proofread!

it’s been a while since youve went on a date, or at least do something romantic with ayato. i mean, you both have many duties, with your husband being the head of the kamisato clan, and you being his wife.

today, you both have your day off, but ayato still decides to do paperwork on his rest day, and his only break days comes in once a blue moon. youve been hinting at him, youve been sighing a little too loud and pointing out the lovely couples that come to the estate just to drop off MORE paperwork.

even after your attempts to try to let him know, he still doesnt get it! and now hes talking to an official so you cant even talk to him… youre sick and tired of how dense the head of the kamisato clan can be! it breaks your heart not being able to have some one on one time with your beloved.

you head to your shared bedroom, while walking there you see ayaka and thoma, “oh hello y/n,” says ayaka, “hello ayaka, hello thoma” you say, your tone being obviously depressed. “are you okay y/n?” thoma asks you with a worried face. “well… it’s been a while since ive been on a date with ayato and…” you look up to see ayaka giggling, “w-whats so funny?” youre a bit offended, youve just told the two about your troubles and now ayaka is giggling? “oh youll see,” thoma tells you before he walks away with ayaka.

what the fuck just happened. whats going on? maybe hes finally gonna take you out? “y/n?” you you jumped a bit at the sudden surprise, but you quickly regain your composure, “oh hi babe!” he puts a hand on your shoulder, “are you okay y/n? youve been acting strange all day, have i done something wrong?”

you feel guilty for making your beloved feel sad, “well, uhm… look ayato, it’s been ages since we been on a date together and i kinda feel like you forgot about…” you advert your eyes from his, he puts his fingers under your chin and lifts your head. "of course i didnt forget our anniversary, thats what i was planning all day, im sorry for not planning it earlier."

what.

oh shit, that was today? youve been so focused on going on a date with ayato that the thought of your anniversary was completely forgotten. ayato sees the slight panic in your eyes, "i dont need a gift, just being with you is the greatest present ive ever received." you feel a your shoulders relax but can still feel a tinge of guilt.

ayato presses a kiss on your temple and says "no matter if it's my day off or if im drowned in work, you will always come first my love."

A/N: all of my brain juices were out by the time i started writing this. very very cringe but i didnt know what to write ૮ ⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝ ྀིა

@justaxiaosimp @mommykukki @xdrin @midnight-pluto @boomie-123 @scaramochies @dnsuhwr874y @hopefulceladon @yukinenikora @akusiapaakudimana @mai-yay @uhfhfhfhf @petitte-writer

[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince; Mermay 2024 (+ updates!)

shhhh what do you mean may is almost over-? i made a fun piece and everything!! well. pieces. the first one is a piece i just finished today, and the second is a piece of pearl in her prince form ;> happy mermay!

(i'll be talkin about stuff under the cut, if you just wanna see the art that's a-okay with me! happy to be drawing them again <3)

so. uh. mermay pieces <33 i really wanted to draw some majorwood art since ive been on an art high lately (writing for a good chunk of the year so far makes illustrating/designing SO much more fun) and i think it's coming to an end soon, so might as well end it with the darlings <3

also im?? surprised??? i didnt share pearl's art????? uh. oopsies! its tooootally not a spoiler. ;)

anyway! its been a good while since ive made an update post, and i want to keep y'all up to date with how things are going!

important thing to announce; act one has been completed!

me and @mewhoismyself have worked very hard to write and edit the work respectively, and its over 100k+ words! hope y'all enjoy what we have planned, im very proud of act one (in particular those final few chapters, i love rereading them) <33

as for act two, im taking a break to do other things (college mainly, but also commission work and personal hobbies) but im probably getting back to writing soon! currently, act two is on chapter three, as ive decided to rewrite chapters 2-7 in the original doc, so theres a LOT of cut content. all for a good story! i dont really mind it :0c

finally, im opening up betas again!

theres been a LOT of inactivity from most of them and i have a bit of a schedule to keep, so im hoping that a new wave of betas could help with providing feedback and whatnot. i need clear communication! betas help greatly in letting me know how they feel with the current flow, their thoughts, and anything i need to address before publishing the chapter. id hope to get some new folk on board before my friend and i start developing act two more! <3

just send a message in the comments or shoot a dm! im more than happy to reply :D!

that should be it, so i hope you have a good day! i had a LOT of fun working on the pieces above, and im gonna have fun working on act two, you'll just have to wait and see! <33

[dethwaltzer]

i had to rush the living hell out of this for my school final so there are a lot of errors and everything is very wonky (anatomy and pacing especially) this is very far from my best work and im not the proudest of it but im sharing it anyway

ive been talking about this AU for a while and theres really nothing in-depth to it other than toki joining "the dark side" upon meeting magnus due to his feelings of utter betrayal by his own band. also he is a cat. everyone is a cat here

i wasnt able to expand on this properly before i had to wrap it up and turn this in unfortunately but there was supposed to be a big "blind leading the blind" analogy here with toki and magnus having opposing eye injuries and having a partners in crime dynamic

i am not finishing this nor do i plan to expand on it much for the forseeable future, i dont have the time nor energy for that lol i might doodle a couple things related to the au here and there but nothing big

be kind spread love and joy and whatever

[builtbybrokenbells]

Spitfire | viii

Jake and y/n have made amends, leaving room for only love while he takes her around the world with him. As their story comes to a close, he’s got one last trick up his sleeve to impress her.

Read part seven here

Read the epilogue here

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, hot and heavy scene right below the cut but not sex, unprotected sex (wear protection pls), oral (f!receiving), quickie, hair pulling, hint of name calling/degradation, slight dom/sub, semi sort of public sex I suppose, a bit of slapping, JAKE SINGING, swearing, fluff, sorry if i miss any!

hi! last chapter!!! this fic is literally my baby and I’ve had so much fun writing this, and im so grateful for everyone who’s come along on the ride! thank you so much for every like, comment, reblog and comment. ive read all of them and they make my heart incredibly happy. I hope the ending concludes everything pretty well and you all like it. i am currently writing an epilogue because i HAVE to, it’ll just be some more tooth-rotting in the future fluffiness. anyway, without further ado, enjoy, always be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

“Jake, baby…” you breathed, head falling back on the pillows. His lips were dancing over your collarbones, making it impossible to think about anything else. His hand was on your hip, fingers dipping just under your panty-line, begging you to let him keep going. “Gonna be late.” You finally said, coming back to your senses a little more.

“We won’t,” he mumbled against your skin. “Just sound check, anyway.”

“Your brothers will kill me if you’re late on the first day I’m visiting.” You scolded.

“They’ll be fine.” He assured you, moving down your chest. He opted not remove your bra,, only kissing the skin around it. He advanced down your stomach, all the way to your bellybutton, leaving small marks of love around your navel and hips.

“Jake,” you warned again, causing his motion to stop, now. He looked up at you, an unreadable look on his face.

“Fine,” he hovered over you, not moving completely away yet. “Let’s go to the venue.” He said with a mischievous smile growing on his lips. A jolt of nervousness ran through you, unsure of what he was thinking. He stood, adjusting himself and looking over you. “Come on.” He held a hand out to you. You took it, standing up. He placed a kiss on the top of your head, lingering there for a minute. When he parted, he delivered a small smack to your ass as you walked towards your suitcase. You let out a noise of surprise, causing him to laugh.

“You’re a dick.” You smiled, pulling some clothes from your bag. You continued to dress yourself like you planned to do before he’d rudely interrupted.

“You love me.” He teased. You pulled your dress on, looking over to him with a grin.

“Yeah, I do.” He walked towards you, placing a kiss on your lips. You couldn’t help the disappointment you felt when he broke away. He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you to finish getting ready. You pulled your makeup bag out of your suitcase and made fast work at applying it.

The night prior, you and Jake had reconciled your issues, leaving the relationship almost better than it had been before the incident. You felt much more secure and confident knowing that he hadn’t done what you assumed, and now he knew exactly how your were feeling. The openness and understanding was something you weren’t used to, and it was wonderful. He knew more about your struggle with being in love and seemed more than willing to work on it together. You were still angry with yourself for disappearing on him, but the more time you spent with him, the more that feeling fizzled away. You felt fantastic that you’d made up with him, and sleeping in bed beside him was more of a remedy to the pain than any words you could share with him.

You were getting ready to watch their concert. It was the first you’d ever been to, and you could barely contain your excitement. You’d watched Jake play guitar over the phone and from a couple videos online, but never in person, mostly because the circumstance never allowed it. He was incredibly nervous, even though he would never say it out loud. He’d given up hope that you were going to come to Atlanta, and now that you were there, he was nervous he hadn’t practiced well enough. He was insistent on impressing you, but he had no idea that he didn’t even have to try for him to do that. It was nearing the time the boys had to be at the venue for their final soundcheck before the show. They’d done a quick one the night before, but due to Jake’s broken strings and sudden disappearance, they thought it best to do another. You were almost thankful for it, excited to see the whole set-up before the real performance.

Josh had dropped your bags off outside of Jake’s room earlier that day, assuming things had gone well when he didn’t hear from you. Sam and Danny had no idea you decided to go to Atlanta after all, and you were eager to surprise them. When Jake returned to you, he had to stop and admire the sight. “Hello, beautiful.” He said, making his way towards you.

“Hi,” you breathed, looking him over, too. He was wearing jeans and a button down, just something simple, but he always seemed to take your breath away.

“Ready to head out?” He asked. You nodded. He placed his hand on your lower back after checking to make sure he had everything he needed. You did the same, then welcomed his touch by leaning into him. He led you to the the door, opening it for you so you could leave first. When you stepped out, you saw the three other boys circled together in the hallway, chattering about something. Sam was the first to look towards the sound of the opening door. When his eyes fell on you, he froze for a moment, completely bewildered to see you there.

“Witchy woman!” He announced, causing the other two boys to look towards you, too. You couldn’t help but smile at them as Danny’s expression lit up, too. Sam bounded over, picking you up in a hug and spinning you around. You let out a laugh, just as happy to see him. “I didn’t know you were coming!” He exclaimed as he put you down.

“Neither did I,” Jake said from behind you.

“Me either.” You admitted. “But I’m glad I did.” You quickly explained.

“So are we,” Jake said, attempting to sound cool about it. He was over the moon that you were there and you had both made up for the week of despair.

Danny took his turn hugging you. “How long are you staying with us?” He asked, looking down at you.

“Uh, until my invite runs out, I guess.” You laughed.

“As if that would ever happen.” He said. When Josh didn’t immediately run to your side, Sam eyed him with an inquisitive look.

“You knew!” He finally exploded, accusing his oldest brother. Josh raised his hands in defence.

“Yeah, but I figured I’d let her tell you herself. I’m sure she had more important things to do rather than entertain you.” Josh shot back. Sam feigned a look of hurt.

“How dare you imply that I’m not the most important person here.”

“Sorry, it must have slipped my mind.” Josh rolled his eyes. “Anyway, if we’re all done with the reunion, we should probably get going. We’re already running late.”

“Right,” Jake nodded, sending him an apologetic look. Josh waved it off, beginning to walk down the hall.

The ride to the venue was filled with laughter and jokes. The atmosphere almost tricked you into believing you’d never left at all, and that nothing bad had ever happened. It was very comforting to know they didn’t hold what happened against you. When you arrived, Jake guided you inside, not willing to stray too far away from you. Their manger was waiting for them by the stage when you walked into the building. When you all reached him, he immediately directed them to where they had to go and telling them what needed to be done, only lightly scolding them for being late. By his tone, you could infer that this was not a rare occurrence. While they filed onto the stage, you took your time to introduce yourself.

“You can sit wherever you’d like,” he told you “if you want, you can stay back here, or you can go down to the main floor. I’m assuming you’ll be back here, later, so you can go get the real concert experience, now.” He laughed.

“Yeah, actually, I might do that.” You said, thinking it was a fantastic idea. He directed you on where to go, immediately getting his attention pulled in another direction. You went through the door he’d pointed out, making your way to the barricade. The arena was huge, the seated area completely surrounding the general admission area.

As soon as you took your place in front of Jake, he caught your gaze and gave you a toothy grin. You waved, excited to have his attention even if you’d been talking to him only moments before. He had his guitar hanging from his neck as he messed with the tuning pegs, trying to get the pitch right on his new string. Sam was plucking notes on the bass without being connected to his amp. Danny was lightly hitting his sticks against the edge of his drums, making a faint metallic ring sound through the air. Josh was saying something to Sam, laughing as he did so. Jake looked to his brothers, letting them know he was good to go.

He flipped on the power to his amp and gave the guitar a small strum, checking the volume. He adjusted the knobs slightly, picking another small tune to see how it sounded. He gave a nod of approval before walking over closer to his twin. Sam did the same with his amps, satisfied with the sound almost immediately. Danny gave a quick burst of the drums, causing the boys to laugh. Josh was the last to go, messing with the mic and the stand before speaking into it. “Hello to the pretty lady in the front row.” He said, looking to you. You gave an enthusiastic wave. “Meet me backstage after the show.” He gave a dramatic wink. You couldn’t help but laugh as Jake shot him a crude hand gesture.

“Watch it,” he warned, but a smile was on his face as he did so.

“Any requests?” Josh asked you. You thought about it for a moment, pretending to ponder really hard.

“Whole Lotta Love!” You yelled back, the joke landing poorly with the boys. They all let out a series of groans. The hate they continually received over sounding like a Led Zeppelin cover band was a taboo subject, and you always found it funny to poke fun at them.

“Alright, security, escort her out of here.” Josh said into the mic, causing you to laugh. He waited a moment before speaking again. “Any real requests?”

“Surprise me!” You said, deciding not to antagonize them any further. Josh looked to his twin and gave a shrug. Jake thought for a moment before taking to his guitar and starting an opening riff. The boys caught on after a moment, beginning to play their own parts.

They ran through a couple songs, not taking their practice too seriously. When they were getting ready to wrap things up, you saw Jake make a move towards Josh. He whispered something in his ear, to which his brother gave a nod and a sly smile. He motioned for Sam to come over and then relayed the message to him. They all turned to the drummer, letting him in on the secret. You watched them quizzically, unsure of what they could be up to. Jake strummed a few off notes, getting a feel for the rhythm of their next song. He adjusted the knobs on his amp slightly before he looked up, sending a smile your way and giving you a wink. He moved closer to Josh, and his brother stepped aside slightly. Your eyes widened, realizing that whatever they were going to play, Jake was going to sing it. You’d never heard him sing before, aside from a few small moments in the car.

Jake started his intro, immediately joined by Sam and Danny. Jake looked a bit nervous, but Josh had a wide smile on his face, fully confident in his brother. You figured from the minute they started conspiring, they were up to no good.

“Raven hair, ruby lips, sparks fly from her fingertips,” Jake sang, attempting his best to keep his confidence. You were starstruck, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. You were amazed at his dedication to your nickname, but more amazed at the sound of his voice. He was really good. When the chorus rolled around, all of the boys joined him, but as soon as the second verse came around, they left him on his lonesome again. By that point, his anxiety had washed away slightly, and he was more comfortable in his singing. He didn’t look up to you until almost the very end, nervous that he would mess up if he saw your face. “She can rock you in the nighttime til’ your skin turns red,” his eyes locked on yours, and he felt a surge of emotion run through him at the sight of your expression. They sang the chorus one last time and played the outro, ending with an elongated chord. They all looked to you, waiting for your reaction.

You exploded into cheers, clapping your hands. They all laughed, Jake and Sam putting their instruments down. Josh fixed the mic stand back to his liking and Jake set his amp back to the way he had it before. You made your move to return to backstage, practically running to meet them. When you came face to face with Jake, he almost looked like he had a blush on his cheeks. “I had no idea you could sing like that!” You exclaimed. He laughed, pulling you into him by your hip.

“In a good, or a bad way?” He said, face inches from yours. You felt your heart flutter.

“Good, very good.” You whispered. He smiled, leaning down and placing a kiss on your lips.

“Not better than me, I hope!” Josh said, dramatically breaking up the moment.

“Never, Josh.” You assured him, subtly winking at Jake. He chuckled, placing another kiss to your forehead. Their manager joined the group, now, and everyone’s attention turned to him.

“They’re gonna open the doors in about thirty minutes,” he told them. The boys nodded. “Get something to eat, get dressed, get your faces on, and be back out here in about three hours.”

“Copy,” Sam gave him a salute. When their manager walked away, he turned to the rest of you. “What are we eating?”

“Whatever is good with me.” You shrugged. The other boys gave a nod of agreement. Sam rolled his eyes.

“You guys are a fantastic help.” He snipped.

“You asked, we answered.” Jake said, not taking any of his shit.

“Barely!”

“Pizza,” Josh gave him a pat on the shoulder, helping him out.

“Again?” Sam complained. His brothers looked between themselves, holding back a laugh.

“You get whatever you want, Sammy.” Josh said, turning and finding his room. Danny broke off, too, and Jake nudged you, telling you to follow him. You both left Sam alone to ponder the dinner choice. Jake brought you to his dressing room, closing the door behind you.

He gave you a soft smile, pulling you into a kiss. You hummed softly, adoring the feeling. He smiled against you, snaking his arm around you. His hand rested on the curve of your back for only for a moment before he moved it downwards. You let a gasp out as he grabbed your ass and pulled you into him. His reached lower, fingers dusting across the hem of your dress that was laying on your thigh. He slipped his fingers underneath, pulling it up so it was just below your hip “Jake,” you pulled your mouth from his, uttering a warning. Although you knew you shouldn’t, his hand felt incredibly good on you, and it had been a long time. It took everything in your power to stop him earlier, and you weren’t sure if you had the willpower to do it again.

“What’s wrong?” He teased, inching your dress further up as he spoke.

“Can’t do this here, you have stuff to do.”

“Yeah, you.” He said, hiking your dress over your ass. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. He pushed you back into the wall, one hand working at your dress, his other bracing the wall beside your head.

“Someone will hear us.” You rushed out, trying not to notice his hand now attempting to spread your thighs apart.

“Be quiet, then.” He shot back. You involuntarily moved your legs, allowing him access to you. As much as you thought it was a bad idea, you couldn’t help but welcome his touch. “There’s no way I’ll be able to make it through the whole show with you standing there looking like this.” Your breath hitched in your throat, feeling his fingers gently rubbing you through your panties. You were certain they were already soaked, knowing you’d been waiting for this just as long as he was.

“D-don’t want you to be late getting on stage.” You mustered out. His hand pulled your underwear to the side, fingers getting a feel for you again. He sighed at the feeling, running your arousal up to your clit and rubbing slow circles. Your head fell back and rested against the wall, now only being able to focus on what he was doing to you.

“Only reason I didn’t fuck you earlier is because you didn’t want me to be late. I wasn’t, we’re here, and I have time.” He soothed your worry, knowing you were too far in to back out now. “Are you going to be good for me and let me fuck you, or are you going to be a brat?” He asked, applying a little more pressure to you, now.

“M’gonna be good,” You promised. “So good.” He pushed your hair away from your neck and leaned down, placing his lips to your skin.

“That’s my girl.” He mumbled against you. You closed your eyes in bliss, pleasure running through every nerve in your body. He located the sweet spot below your ear with ease, gently sucking a mark into it. Your hips bucked forward into his hand, causing a smirk to grow on his face. “Missed me, didn’t you?” His mouth was just next to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He barely spoke the words, but you heard him loud and clear.

“Yes, sir.” You could feel his erection pressing into your leg through his jeans.

“Gonna make this quick, okay?” You gave him a nod. “Promise I’ll fuck you like you deserve once we get back to the hotel.” You knew he meant it. There was no doubt in your mind he wouldn’t stop until his name was the only thing you could say. He pulled away from you, checking that the lock on the door was clicked. He jiggled the handle just to make sure. “Don’t want anyone interrupting this.” He confessed. His eyes raked over you, soaking up the sight. You were standing, dress pushed up to your stomach. Your lipstick was smudged against your lips, eyes fixated on him.

“Look at you,” he rasped, completely enamoured with the sight of you. “My pretty little whore.” He returned back to you, pulling you in for a quick kiss before anything else. “I love you.” He whispered as he pulled back, almost as if he felt bad for such harsh words.

“I love you.” You answered, giving him a soft smile. He watched your face for a moment, searching for even a hint of discomfort. “Green.” You promised. He gave a slight nod, shaking off the moment of uncertainty. It had been a long time since he had you like this, and his confidence diminished slightly as the weeks went on. He kissed you once more, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. You moaned into his mouth, unable to hold yourself back. It was embarrassing at how quickly he could turn you into a mess.

He pulled back, immediately sinking down to his knees. He hooked his fingers through the sides of your underwear, pulling them down in a swift motion. He tapped your ankle and you lifted your foot slightly, allowing him to take them off completely. He threw them somewhere behind him, not caring where they ended up. He moved closer to you, guiding one of your legs over his shoulder. He made sure you were steady against the wall before he did anything else. His fingers dusted over your thigh, causing goosebumps to raise over your skin. He took his time to admire you before he continued, feeling like the luckiest man in the world to have you like this again.

You watched him, the anticipation almost killing you. Not once had you known Jake to take it slow in the bedroom. He’d seemed so antsy to get you naked, but now he wanted to savour every second. He liked to tease, but this seemed to be much more than that. He didn’t want to be an asshole, just wanted to appreciate every part of you. Slowly, he brushed his lips over the insides of your thighs. You brought your hand down, brushing it through his hair as he did so. As turned on as you were, you couldn’t help but enjoy the moment, too. It felt like an eternity since you had felt him on your skin so intimately. He brought his mouth to your heat, hovering for a moment. You didn’t push him, worried that the sweet side would come to an end and he’d leave you like that for the rest of the night. Eventually, he connected his mouth to you, running his tongue painstakingly slow through your folds.

You let a sigh of relief fall from your mouth, fingers twirling through his hair. You missed the feeling of him between your legs. After a few moments, he turned his attention to your clit, suctioning his mouth around it. You couldn’t help but let a throaty moan out at the feeling, the relief almost instantaneous. He worked at you with his tongue, soaking up every noise you were making and using it as encouragement. His fingers were gripping your thigh, holding you steady while you lost yourself to the pleasure. “Fuck, Jake,” you groaned, knotting your fingers in the hair at the base of his skull. He hummed against you, pulling back for a moment.

“Missed me?” He breathed.

“So much,” you assured him, holding back a whine at the loss of contact. He returned back to you, faster than before. He was determined to get you off, making quick work so he could avoid any interruptions. It didn’t take long for a knot to begin to form in your belly, your breathing laboured and hands desperately holding onto him.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me.” He barely moved his mouth from you to give you the encouragement, his tongue finding your clit again almost instantly. You bit down on your lip, trying your best to muffle any moans that were threatening to escape. It only took a few more seconds and you were coming undone, head falling back to rest on the wall and legs shaking as you tried to hold yourself up. His grip on you tightened, ensuring you stayed steady. He rode you through the orgasm, slowly tapering off his speed until he felt your muscles relax. He pulled away, lust clouding his eyes and your orgasm glistening on his face. He gave you a sly smile when you finally looked down at him. “That was fast.” He commented, cockiness radiating from him.

“Fuck you,” you shot back, not really realizing your words. He gave you a look of warning.

“Careful.” He scolded.

“Sorry, sir.” You whispered. He stood, not even acknowledging the apology. He roughly spun you around, pushing your upper half into the wall and pulling your hips back. He delivered a sharp slap to your ass, causing you to gasp. You heard him unbuckling his belt, freeing himself from his jeans. He spit on his hand and stroked himself for a moment before lining up with your entrance and pushing himself inside of you.

He gave you no time to adjust, his pace brutal. You let a few moans slip out, but he grabbed your hair in his fist, turning your head to the side so you could see him through the corner of your eye. “Quiet,” he warned. You managed a nod, fighting against the tight hold he had your head in. He leaned forward and captured your lips in a kiss while he fucked you, making sure you were silenced as he picked up his pace. The hand that was holding your hair loosened its grip, allowing you to relax your neck again. He used that hand to reach around the front of you, finding your clit with ease. You groaned at the touch, still sensitive from your first orgasm. “What did I just say?” He snapped.

“S-sorry,” you said quickly, fighting back any other noises.

“I know it feels good, baby, but I don’t want anyone else to hear those pretty sounds.” He softened his tone, realizing he needn’t be too hard on you; he felt the same way after so long being without you. “Those are just for me, okay? I’ll let you be as loud as you want when we get back to the hotel.” He tried to keep his tone steady, but he was failing miserably. He was almost regretful for chastising you about finishing so easily, because he was struggling not to, now. He picked up the speed of his fingers, aiming to give you at least one more orgasm before he finished.

He didn’t have to try very hard; the feeling of him inside you was more than enough to push you over the edge. His tip was brushing your g-spot with every thrust, driving you closer to an orgasm each time. The added simulation on your clit was blissful, making it hard to focus on anything else. “Jake,” you warned. He knew exactly what it meant, ensuring he kept his pace steady.

“Come on, beautiful.” He ordered. He felt a shred of relief, knowing he didn’t have to hold himself back much longer. The encouragement was all you needed to come undone. You reached your peak for a second time, clenching around him and moaning his name. The hand that was on your hip came up and clamped around your mouth, silencing you as he continued to fuck you. The noises you couldn’t contain were muffled by his palm, allowing you to relax and enjoy your orgasm without worry someone would hear you. His cock twitched inside you, a warning that he was close, too. He dropped his hand from your mouth and moved both of his hands to your hips, pulling you back on him as he thrusted into you.

“Fuck, y/n.” He groaned, forcing your hips back onto him once more. He held you there, his orgasm hitting him hard. He let out a quiet slur of curse words as he spilled inside of you, only loosening his grip on you when he came down from the high. He rested inside you for a moment, leaning in and placing a few small kisses on your shoulders. He slowly withdrew, trying his best to control the mess. You sighed at the sudden emptiness, missing the feeling almost immediately.

You both came back to your senses a little bit, realizing the state you were in. Jake helped you to the bathroom so you could clean yourself up. When you finished, you checked yourself in the mirror. Your hair was a mess, your lipstick smudged and your mascara was running. You fixed your makeup as best you could and raked your fingers through your hair, straightening it out. When you returned to Jake, he was lounging on the sofa, dressed and completely unfazed by the earlier altercation. He looked up to you, giving you a smile. “Hi gorgeous.” He held his hand out, motioning for you to join him. You walked over, sitting beside him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He placed a kiss to the top of your head, causing a smile to form on your lips. You looked up to him, having to stifle a giggle.

“Red really is your colour.” You told him, making a move to wipe the smudged lipstick from his lips. “You couldn’t have waited until we got back to the hotel?”

“Waited long enough, I think.” He said pulling your chin upwards with his index finger. He caught you in a kiss, much sweeter than the ones you’d shared previously. “Don’t think that means we’re not doing it later, too, though.” You let out a small laugh, but thought it best not to respond. You turned your head to look to the floor, suddenly remembering your discarded underwear. He laughed at your puzzled face when you couldn’t locate them. “Looking for these?” You whipped your head to look at him, noticing he’d pulled something halfway out of his pocket. You noticed the black lace, giving him a bewildered look.

“Yeah, actually. Can I have them, please?” You held your hand out. He pretended to debate it for a moment, but eventually shook his head.

“No, actually, I think I’ll hold onto them for you.” He said, slipping them back into his pocket. You gave him a gentle smack on the arm.

“Give them back!” You exclaimed, a ghost of a laugh in your tone. You tried to push his hand out of the way to grab them for yourself.

“Mmm, no.” He said, moving quickly and pinning you down to the couch. You both erupted into a fit of giggles, almost completely forgetting why you were arguing in the first place. His hair hung down, ticking your exposed shoulders. He had a grin plastered on his face, unable to hold it back at the sound of your laughter. He peppered a few kisses over your cheeks and nose before placing one on your lips. “It’ll be my good luck charm, tonight.” He hummed. “Just be careful if you bend over, wouldn’t want you to give the boys a show of their own.” He teased.

“You’re an asshole.” You said, but you couldn’t hold back your smile.

“You love me, though.” He replied, face hovering over yours.

“Yeah, I do.” You said, tone gentle and sincere.

“Did you really like the song, earlier?” He changed the topic.

“Of course I did,” you said, making a move to sit up. He moved backwards, freeing you from your position. You both sat upright again.

“Did… did I sound okay?” He said, sounding a bit sheepish. You let out a scoff, almost rolling your eyes at the question.

“I think,” you leaned in, nose practically touching his “if that was the only song I could ever listen to for the rest of my life, I’d be fine with it as long as you were singing it.” You caught his lips in a kiss, soft and full of emotion. “Best singer I’ve ever heard, for sure.” You breathed when you pulled away. “Don’t tell your brother, though.”

“I wouldn’t break his heart like that.” Jake chuckled. “I made them learn that song… wanted to play it for you for a while now, but I didn’t think I was ever gonna get the chance.”

“I’m really glad I got to hear it. You should sing more.” You told him, hand reaching out to brush the hair from his face.

“No, I think that’s okay.” He laughed, brushing the statement off. “More of a one time thing.” You couldn’t help the frown that formed on your face.

“You mean to tell me we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together and I’m never going to hear you sing again?” You teased. “Even if it’s just for me?” His eyes looked over your face, his breath catching in his throat.

“If you’re promising me forever, I’ll sing to you every day for the rest of my life.” He said, more serious than he’d ever been.

“I’ll promise you forever, rockstar.” You whispered. “I know what life is like without you, and I don’t ever want to feel that way again.” He brushed his thumb over your cheek, then moved to brush the hair from your face. He took your head in his hand, pulling you in for another kiss. He held you there, scared to let you go, thinking that he might have been dreaming. When he finally broke away for air, he kept his face close to yours, revelling in the intimacy.

“I love you, witchy woman.” He said.

“I love you so much, Jake.” Another smile started to form on your lips. After a moment, a knock on his door broke the focus. He pulled back, looking towards it.

“What?” He called out, sounding a bit grumpy.

“Food is here, lovebirds. Come and eat, then we have to get ready.” Sam called from the other side. Jake sighed, but stood, anyway. He held a hand out to you, helping you up. He went to the door, unlocking it and cracking it open to see his brother waiting impatiently. You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, watching Sam stalk off down the hallway. Jake looked back at you, motioning for you to follow.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You promised. He stood, not wanting to leave without you, but eventually conceded when you shooed him away. He blew you a kiss before he left, only satisfied when you pretended to catch it.

You watched him turn and walk out of view, your heart happy and full of love. You had no idea how you got here; you never envisioned yourself falling for someone ever again, let alone promising them forever, and meaning it. You were even more baffled at the fact he was a rockstar, famous with girls constantly flocking to him, but he fell for a spitfire in Maryland who was still trying to make a name for herself. One who was just a small, insignificant dot on a huge map. Still, you couldn’t help but feel grateful, shoving the uncertainty to the side. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t let that get in the way of loving him, anymore. He’d never given you a real reason to doubt him, and you were fairly certain he never would. For the first time in your life, you felt wanted, like for once you truly belonged. After two decades of searching for a sense of self, trying to discover where you were meant to be, you had finally found it. Or, at least the person who would help you get to exactly where you were supposed to be. Until that day came and the entire journey finally made sense, you were completely and utterly content with him being your rockstar, because you knew you were always going to be his witchy woman.

A/N my heart is happy :))) also witchy woman came on from shuffle just as I was finishing editing this and about to post, which is kind of cool. hope you liked it 🫶🏻 hope to see you on the next journey (p.s. stay tuned for the epilogue ;) )

TAGLIST: @gvfpal @jakesgrapejuice @hellowgoodbye @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @welllauragvf

[vintagevict0ria]

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞

Chapter 2 "Ive been watching you for ages..."

pairing: Adam Driver x f!reader content: alcohol consumption, use of Y/n. a/n: oh gosh guys im so sorry this took SOOO LONG!! I have not had any motivation but i was determined to get this out! part 3 will not take as long!! Added a tag for all my works: #victoriassecrets!!

Endless scrolling turned into you following asleep. When you woke up, you found a pool of spit under your chin and your phone was dead. Rolling your eyes, you sat up stretching your arms before plugging your phone in and wiping your face. Today you had planned to get breakfast with Carolina today, to debrief from the past few days. It had caught you by surprise how much your co-star had been on your mind- an unhealthy amount you should say…

Hopefully this date would help clear your mind and focus on the actual movie and not Adam Driver. 

You arrived at the coffee shop shortly before Carolina did so you found a table by the window. When she arrived: she lit up instantly when her eyes met yours. “Hey girl!!!!” She let out a squeal of excitement as she frolicked over. Standing up, you embraced her in your arms. “Oh em gosh we have so much to talk about!!” Of course, Carolina couldn't wait to start talking. Sitting back down, you took a sip of hot coffee before speaking “So i want to discuss how JJ is planning on building and establishing me and- Sorry- Taylor and Johns (you and Adams characters) relationship”

“He wants you and Adam to get to know each other from the other side of the camera so that way we have something to build off of before we start filming.”  This caught you by surprise.In the past, no directors had asked you to have an actual connection that isn't just acting.

“We have 7 weeks till filming starts and I've already scheduled you and Adam a reservation at the restaurant down the road for tonight- lets get ahead yeah?” Dinner. Tonight. With Adam. It was hard to imagine what this could possibly mean. “So it's a date basically?”

“Oh gosh no silly!” She laughed, shaking her head. “Just think about it as a…” she paused. “Yeah it's basically a date.”

Oh Carolina, why would you do this to me!!

“No the red! No wait- the blue! wait - yes the red! Wait..” Holding up the two dresses and making Carolina pick was impossible. She was your hype woman and you looked good and anything but gosh this woman could not pick to save her life. “Girl, just pick! I'm going with the red-” before you could finish Adams manager walked in-”The cab will be here in an hour” she left quickly after dropping the news. Lovely, now I'm being rushed. 

“Ok pick a dress and i’ll get someone her to fix your hair and makeup-”

“No- I got this. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Carolina smiled, looking up from her phone and going over to hug you. “First impressions are everything” she whispered in your ear. All you could do was laugh.

Dress? Red(or blue?) No yeah red…

Hair? Down! No up!! Wait… Down!!

Makeup? Uhhhhhh…

“Ms. Y/L/N! The cab is here!!”

Crap! You quickly grabbed your purse and ran downstairs while still trying to put shoes on. After who knows how long, you finally got your shoes on and was greeted by Adam. 

“Evening.” He said, holding out his arm.

“Good evening.” You joyfully intertwined your arm around his elbow, letting him guide you into the cab. 

The flash of the cameras was bleeding. Being an actor in Hollywood meant stalkers, love letters, cat calls, and of course- paparazzis. Security did their best to quickly get you too into the car with little to no time for the cameras to catch a glance of you and your co-star. As soon as you entered the car- a woman- around the age of 20, started pounding at the window of the car. “Adam! You are so hot! Have my ba-” the car sped off before the woman had a chance to finish. You glazed over at Adam but he didn't seem fazed at all. Was he used to this? The ride was quiet. All that could be heard was the rolling on the car on the roads of LA and the faint playing of the radio. Before you could be relieved of the stress of this event, you stupidly went on instagram and your DM’s were full of pictures that the paparazzis had taken just minutes ago. The pictures were not as clear as expected considering you basically ran to the car. You could just faintly make out the scene of Adams' arm around yours. 

Once you arrived at the restaurant, the door swung open and a doorman held out his hand to you. You hesitantly grabbed it. Making sure your dress didn't get caught in the car door- you exited the vehicle and was once again escored beside Adam and security. Little to no paparazzis were around but somehow, many civilians knew you two were expected. Some profanities and obscure things were shouted but you too paid no attention to them. The restaurant lights were wildly contrasted with the dark outside. Adjusting to the lighting, you walked over to a table that was draped with a white cloth along with two wine glasses, silver wear, and a candle. Adam pulled out the seat, gesturing to you to sit down. Embarrassed, you smiled and whispered ‘thank you’ under your breath. Adam sat down across from you.

“So-” Adam began to speak, his brown eyes looked so whimsical in the lighting. Before speaking again, he cleared his voice. “Where are the menus?” He chuckled, looking around the restaurant. At Least he was trying to make this not awkward as possible.

“I was just thinking that! Have you ever been here before?” You scanned the room, it was quite empty- well entirely empty.

“No, you?” You shook your head. Right as you were going to say something, your waiter walked over, pen and paper in hand. “Apologies for the wait- what can I start you off to drink?” You both ordered a glass of red wine to start and shortly after receiving menus- ordered entries. Taking a sip of your drink, Adam asked “Thoughts on the film so far? Well, the script that is.” He brushed his hair back, still making eye contact with you. You couldn't believe you were having dinner with Adam Driver. He was so beautiful and there was something about him that wouldn't allow you to look away.

“I like it! Also- apologies for Carlonia setting this whole ‘date’ thing up- she can be really extra sometimes' ' putting date in quotes excentauted how awkward this dinner was. You hoped he would just laugh it off but- oh no.

“Carolina?” he laughed, shaking his head while looking down, “No, this wasn't JJs or Carolinas idea. It was mine.”

_________________________

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[cyxnidx]

Hi, I’ve liked your works for a while and was wondering if you would write something with Scaramouche and a reader who’s insecure because of her small chest? You can add any other characters if you want. If you’re busy, feel free to ignore, I don’t wanna disturb you.

PERFECTION !!

characters: scaramouche , zhongli

warnings: small chested!reader, fem!bodied, reader is called ‘darling’ & ‘love’ (zhongli)

a/n: ofc!! i dont mind. i had also added zhongli, considering i have a headcanon that they also love those with small chests<3

!! SCARAMOUCHE

is surprised when you bring it up. not in a bad way, but one thing he didn’t expect was an insecurity. let alone, from you. especially with the way you always acted so full of yourself..he felt somewhat deceived by how easily you fooled him, though didn’t think now was the time to try and scold you or act any kind of way. scaramouche being the person he is, and struggling with explaining his emotions, he simply starts poking at them, playfully, but it concerned you, yet it still made you laugh. and that was his goal. to make you laugh. it was his backup plan for everything that went wrong with you. making you laugh, it fulfilled him perfectly and honestly made him a bit more confident now that the mood has been lightened by your cheerful voice. “i dont care..” he sighed, finally being able to look you in the eye without getting the least bit flustered. though, he was slightly struggling to find the right words to finish off his sentence. he’d hate for you to assume that was all he was going to say, but he also wanted to find the right words as to not make it too harsh, or have something sound different than what it is. “..for size.” you couldn’t help but feel a tightening sensation in your throat, preventing you from speaking. in slight retaliation, noticing your emotional distress, scaramouche wrapped his arms around you and sighed. “you’re so..sensitive..about it. if i had that large of a preference you wouldn’t even know i existed.”

!! ZHONGLI

could already tell that you were somewhat insecure of them, yet deemed it insensitive to say anything. but now that you’re complaining about them, he takes it as an opportunity to say his piece. “y’know darling. it is not something to worry about.” he said softly, cupping your cheeks. “why not?” you replied quickly, avoiding eye contact. “well, from what ive been told, those with bigger sizes often get back pains..i’d hate for you to have consistent pains due to something you can’t control.” he explained. you knew you were some kind of lucky because no back pains, but you did wish they were at least a little bigger. though, your avoidance of eye contact only made zhongli want to care for you more. “why’re you so worried about your breasts anyways, my love? it’s not that you can control it.” he asked, now curious. what started such an odd insecurity? why would you wish something upon yourself that you could not control? why wish you had it, yet not bother to think for the pain? he didn’t understand. had you forgotten cause and effect? give and take? all things are given with a price. it made perfect sense to him, but he couldn’t understand it coming from you. understandably, he could never. he’s not in your place. however, why be insecure about them when he’s always showed so much love for it? “it’s just. frowned upon in communities. most men have preferences of that kind..” you said, trailing off out of embarrassment. “well, it’s not frowned upon here. and im certainly not ‘most men’, now am i?” planting a kiss on your forehead, he smiled softly at you as you nodded. “i love you the way you are. please do not hope to change yourself in any way. i developed great feelings for you, not any other. if you aren’t you, i wouldn’t have the same attachment.”

[siderealsandman]

just finished reading mending warped designs and im so sorry bc you probably heart this a lot so i mean it in the most respectful way possible but... are you abandoning that fic? 😭 or are you just on an undefinite hiatus?

i NEVER read fics that are unfinished, but after finishing T&C, i simply HAD to venture into that alley. and im not disappointed. as much as i hate angst, your writing and world builiding is simply miraculous, for lack of a better word. the work you've done is a masterpiece, and i mean it. might be the best work of fiction ive ever read. it would be a real shame to abandon it, but i understand if you have things that are more important :) your health and happiness should be your utmost priority ❤️

that being said, i really do hope you choose to continue writing it. masterpieces don't just appear, they take a lot of work and dedication and im so, SO glad you took the time to put in the effort to create something so beautiful.

best of wishes xx

Thank you so much! I appreciate all the love and feedback I've gotten on my ML fics over the years.

With Miraculous I feel like I kinda grew out of the setting/fandom (doesn't help that most of my friends I met in it moved on) but overall T&C came from a place of frustration with canon I no longer feel. That and MWD had me with the worst case of writer's block that I resolved by writing something else (two something else's).

I have the last scene of MWD written but need to put together the connective tissue which I find it hard to get in a headspace to write. When I have time to write, I typically want to tend to The Games of Divinity or Devil Summoner: Akechi Goro. I do plan on finishing it...but can't promise when.

If you're interested, however, I do have the final scene below

Context: Marinette and Adrien are at a party with the rest of the heroes when Dr. Oliver attacks again, leading the pair of them to leave and take down their enemy while Team Paris rests.

Despite the crowds of people fleeing for their safety, Marinette was in a better mood than she had been in for a long time. 

"Now this feels familiar," Adrien mused, tugging Marinette out of the way of a pack of panicked tourists. "Everybody in their right minds is running away from danger, and here we are running towards it." 

"Must be something wrong with us," Marinette chuckled. 

"Of course there is," Adrien said, tugging her into an empty cafe. "If we were normal, we wouldn't have volunteered." 

Two flashes of light later and Ladybug led her partner out the other entrance and onto the rapidly emptying street. "I wonder what the venn diagram of lunatics and superheros looks like." 

"It's basically a circle," Chat Noir said as some of the people fleeing for their lives slowed down to take a picture.

"Go get em Ladybug!" One person yelled as they ran to safety. 

"Kick his ass Ladybug!" 

"Good to see you're back Ladybug!" 

"Oh my god Ladybug!" 

"Ladybug, can I have your number-" 

"Hey, you know what's cooler than Ladybug? Not being destroyed by dinosaurs; get to safety before someone T-Wrecks you," Chat Noir said, shooing a small crowd of pedestrians towards a bunker. "Go on, get! Jeez, you need to have a word with your fan club about personal safety." 

"Don't tell me you're jealous of all the attention I'm getting," Ladybug chuckled. 

"I've spent the last four years deliberately trying to avoid attention," Chat Noir sniffed. "Besides, Paris is kinda slow to forget; I'm sure most of these people still think I was up to something fishy with Hawky." 

"I get the crowds of screaming fans, you get all the superhero clout," Ladybug said, awkwardly waving at a crowd of passing tourists all delaying their escape to snap pictures of the newly returned heroes. "Somehow I think you got the better deal." 

"Now who's jealous?" Chat Noir asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "They'll come around…I'll make sure of it." 

Ladybug nodded, noticing the furtive glances sent Chat Noir's direction. "Yeah…ditto." 

Ladybug stopped in the middle of the street, watching Chat Noir's back as he stepped past her. "Hey…are you sure about this?" 

"What, running solo against a guy with some lab-grown dinosaurs?" Chat Noir chuckled. "What's there to worry about?" 

"No, I meant…" Ladybug trailed off with a shake of her head. "Forget it." 

"I know what you meant," Chat Noir said, glancing over his shoulder. Somehow, the spectral eye that looked her over didn't seem as threatening as it used to be. There were glimmers of Adrien, her Adrien, under the overwhelming mantle of Chat Noir. Enough for Ladybug to latch on to as he smiled. 

"I'm here because I want to be," Chat Noir said, turning around and leaning on his staff. "Because I want to try…I don't need to be sure about anything else." 

That doesn't scare you? Ladybug thought. 

Who says it doesn't? Chat Noir thought back with a wink. "You should spend a little less brain power worrying about me, Ladybug; we're gonna need those smarts to send these creeps back to the Jurassic period." 

"I thought I'd let you take the lead on this one," Ladybug said, falling back into step beside Chat Noir. "Give you a chance to flex your own brainpower." 

"And I thought I told you I have one strategy," Chat Noir said. "Everything else is just tactics. Besides, what is the correct strategy to deal with a man who has living fossils at his beck and-" 

A pterodactyl shaped drone swooped low overhead, launching an electromagnetic rocket at the door of a nearby bank and blowing it clean off its hinges. 

"Wait…those are the dinosaurs we're supposed to be fighting?!" Chat Noir huffed, glaring at the drone as it zipped away. 

"Yyyyyeah?" Ladybug said. "What's wrong?" 

"They're…they're robots!" Chat Noir said. "Just…just some stupid robots!"

 "What did you think he had actual dinosaurs for us to-" Ladybug stopped short as she saw the almost heartbroken look on Chat Noir's face. "Oh…oh my god, you actually thought we were fighting real dinosaurs?!" 

"I've seen weirder stuff than that!" Chat Noir said, huffing as Ladybug doubled over, clutching her stomach as uncontrollable peals of laughter echoed off the mostly empty street. "I was told this was a professor who uses dinosaurs to rob banks but apparently he's just a nerd with a Transformers fetish!" 

"Oh…Oh, I'm sorry, is this beneath you?" Ladybug laughed. "What, you fight dragons for a couple of years and suddenly you're too good for robot dinosaurs?" 

"I'm the apex predator; not some…some…ugh, I'm so disappointed I can't even metaphor correctly!" Chat Noir growled. 

"His Majesty only deigns to sully his little kitty paws with real monsters, thank you very much," Ladybug wheezed. "Theeeeee Apex Predator needs worthwhile prey; none of this toy-aisle garbage."

"Shut up," Chat Noir laughed, completely oblivious to the dinobot stomping down the street behind him until the hot gust of steam from its nostrils washed over the back of his head. Something about the way Ladybug laughed had a funny habit of making him forget the kind of danger he was in, even after so much time apart. 

"No, don't even bother!" Chat Noir said, ignoring the robotic snarl that came from the dinobot. "It's ruined! This whole day is totally ruined! I thought we were going up against someone worth our time but all we got is a model kit builder and his army of toys!"

"Hey!" A booming voice shouted as a large pterodactyl drone descended, powered by hovering jets that only seemed to piss Chat Noir off more. The top opened and out stepped an equally angry looking professor in a black lab coat and goggles. 

"And I'm guessing that's our target," Ladybug said, flicking the gigantic T-Rex in the nose as it leaned in closer to her and leaving a divot in the machine's steel frame. 

"Who dares question the paleontological engineering genius of-" Dr. Oliver stopped as he spotted Chat Noir. "...Chat Noir?" 

"No, I'm a very disappointed kitty who wanted to chase lizards today," Chat Noir said. 

"And…" Dr. Oliver pointed at Ladybug. "Wait, when did you get back?" 

"Three days ago; haven't you heard?" Ladybug said, bumping her shoulder into Chat Noir's. 

"I was in jail on bank robbing charges," Dr. Oliver said. "They only played football and reruns of terrible BBC baking shows." 

"Well, here's the only news story you need," Ladybug said. "Ladybug and Chat Noir are back in Paris." 

"And more than ready to stick our Little-foots up your tin can tailpipe, you tacky old veloci-loser!" Chat Noir spat, cracking his knuckles. "Get my hopes up, will you…" 

"You got your hopes up," Ladybug pointed. 

"And I'm taking it out on him!" Chat Noir said, brandishing his baton in the perturbed professor's face. "Come out of the Zord with your hands in the air and I'll see if we can get you some Land Before Time DVD's to entertain you in prison." 

"But…how?!" Dr. Oliver stammered. "How are you…I-I thought you two were finished!" 

"We were, but…" Ladybug spared a smile for her partner. "Life…finds a way." 

The hiss of dozens of whirring servos drew her attention to the small pack of robotic velociraptors that closed in around them. At the far end of the street, a large mechanical triceratops angled three cannons in their direction while a small pack of pterodactyl drones whirred overhead. 

"So…little guys are worth one point?" 

"Big suckers are at least five," Ladybug agreed. 

"And the big guy has to be a dime," Chat Noir said, teeth flashing as he snapped his staff out to full length. "No cheating now." 

"I trust you'll keep me honest," Ladybug said, springing into the air alongside her partner. They hung for a moment in mid air, suspended above the encroaching crowd of mechanical monsters, before diving like twin falling stars into the melee, back to back as it always should have been. 

[iamthecomet]

Ive tried numerous times, but I cant seem to spit it out onto paper. The thoughts are in my head, but THEY WILL NOT COME OUT. So Ive elected to pass this on.

Now imagine:

Dew and the rest are out on tour while Aether is back at the abbey. Copia gets a hotel for a night as a treat and Dew and Swiss room together. What Dew doesnt know is, Aether has plans to fuck him tonight— kinda.

He’s decided to use Swiss as a proxy, so he’s on the phone and talking filthy shit, telling Swiss what to do, how fast and how slow. He may or may not be calling Swiss a glorified dildo and he may or may not be implying that he’s a “decent” enough replacement for now, but he’ll never actually be good enough for Dew.

He’s definitely got his pants tucked under his balls back in his room, both hands around his cock, trying to replicate Dew’s tight hole. All three of them get close and Aether makes Dew beg to cum, in reality, he’s been begging well before anyone else was close. Dew gets to cum first and Aether tells Swiss to wrap his hand around and squeeze his knot. “Work him through it properly, Spark”

Aether follows, spurting all over his happy trail and even up to where his shirt is tucked up over his tits, all while moaning his good boy’s name. They even pretend even more— Im gonna get you all messy Dew, gonna coat your face, stick out your tongue for me baby.

But Swiss? Aether never says yes, so Good Boy Swiss©️holds it. Once he sounds like he’s going to cry, he’s told to pull out and finish himself off somewhere on Dew— he chooses to add on to the sticky mess all over his torso. He maybe swirls his fingers through their spend, mixing them together, before shoving the sticky fingers in his mouth.

I've been staring at this ask for like a full day and a half with my jaw dropped open. I'm dying over this. It's so fucking delicious, you have such a big brain I'm losing my mind over this. First of all, instructed sex is so fucking hot, and Dewther phone sex is one of my (many) weaknesses. Just picturing Dew knowing he's probably going to get railed by Swiss but not having any idea that Aether has a plan.

Swiss holding the phone so Aether can see every single thing Swiss does to Dew--it's all about Dew. Swiss is just there as a tool for Aether to use to get his Dewdrop off. And Dew can look up at the phone and see Aether working his cock as Swiss scissors his fingers into Dew. Dew can see how Aether tightens both of his hands when Swiss finally pushes in--trying to pretend it's his cock he's watching stretch Dew open.

And it's all about Dew and Aether. And GOD Swiss is so good for both of them. Plays his roll perfectly. Holds back. Uses immaculate self control to be the last to cum, to not just blow it inside of Dew's hot little body to not just knot him right there like his instincts are screaming for him to do. Because he isn't allowed to cum inside Dew. Aether made that crystal clear. Not allowed to claim him like that, and Swiss has to wait, has to keep fucking into Dew's body until he feels like he's going to burn alive, balls heavy, stomach aching from holding back. Teeth digging into his cheek so hard he tastes copper. And yeah, as soon as Aether tells him he can he makes a mess all over Dew's stomach. Adding to Dew's cum already streaked across his flushed skin. Aether doesn't tell Swiss to feed it to him, but he gets a tired hum of approval as soon as he pushes those coated fingers over Dew's lips and into his (very willing) mouth.

[orlamccools]

vent post under the cut- if youve got advice id love to hear it

so. ive been talking to this guy for a long ass while, you can scroll thru the last tag on this post to see what its all about, but long story short is this: i asked him out two saturdays agoto my friends going away party (which was held this past friday). hes met this friend once before, and we planned to meet at her place and then maybe go out to the bars after

entire week he is super into it, texts me more often than normal, creates a spotify blend for the two of us (w that feature that lets you combine your tastes into a single playlist) like im getting VIBES. and he asks abt our plans!!!! we make a solid schedule!!!

night of the party he texts me at 8:45 checking in to see if its all happening and i say yeah. i get home from work, change, then get to my friends house and text him that im here. he doesnt respond for an hour and finally says something abt how he has to charge his phone before coming out. im like ok man whatever i just want to hang so do what you gotta do. another half hour passes and then he hits me with the "hey idk if im gonna make it out". im disappointed by this, so i respond with like a "damn that kinda sucks :/" message. at this point i expect him to stop messaging me, but then he texts me quite literally for the rest of the night. like he literally doesnt stop until i text him that im walking home.

saturday i see him in person for a short period when he does the close out but another driver fucking also comes to sweep the store and just. will not stop talking to the dude in question. he like tries to get away twice but between customers and this other guy we dont talk like at all. after the other driver leaves and the store is closed he comes back in to use the bathroom and like stands by the door for a moment so i like look over but all he does is smile and wave then leave.

SATURDAY NIGHT. he texts me at like 8 responding to a text i had sent the previous night asking if im going out again tonight. i said yeah (bc a separate friend had a party) and he was like bet lemme know where youre at i might stop by and see you. i send him the address of the restaurant and proceed to hang w my friends until midnight. hes again texting me all night abt getting ready to head out but when we finally leave he hits me with the "finally leaving now where should i meet you". at this point i am exhausted, as ive just finished my first week of classes, had drunk heavily over the past 48 hours, and had worked a 13 hr workday that day. i text him and say im like too tired im going home and hes like damn :////

yesterday night. i do an eras movie night w my friends and i send a picture of the opening sequence to the ppl i have snapchat streaks with. he snaps me the rest of the night and is like "ohhhh you should have invited me" and stuff like that and its like. i didnt invite you for a multitude of reasons but like you ditched plans once this weekend and kept pushing back the other time i tried to invite you out, so why do you think i would ask you a third time???????

and now im just confused bc like. he seemed sooooooooo into it all week and then as soon as it was time for things to happen he just didnt show and kept stringing me along. im also lowkey pissed bc i wanted to hang with him and i was SO anxious abt asking him out (like i literally threw up twice friday morning bc i was so anxious abt how the day was gonna go). im just frustrated and like i had thought he had gotten the vibe that i was into him romantically bc it sure as shit seemed like he was reciprocating, and now im not even sure what to do anymore.

[corviiids]

8, 18, 23, and all the other numbers you haven't answered yet

ooohoho really enabling me there thank you very much. answered 23 in the last one! i wont do all of them or this'll get super long but ill put a few more under the cut!!

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

tbh ive been contemplating a silly oneshot sequel to as you like it but i do have to actually finish the damn thing before i even think about that so ill leave it there.

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

im actually notoriously bad at killing my darlings so i didn't think i'd have that many deleted scenes, but i did find a few older versions of the makoto&ren scene in chapter 6 of as you like it that i had completely forgotten about. looking back on these i actually still like them

v1.0 of the grounding sequence ren goes through after his nightmares. i think i cut this because it was too long and didn't flow well in context, but im sort of fond of it in isolation:

this was from an alternate version of the scene altogether, where they go to harajuku instead of inokashira so ren can find some featherman merch futaba wanted. i dont like this version as much as the final but i am fond of the extremely long spiralled potato:

then a completely unrelated ren/akc date that i cut because it wasn't doing any work and i didn't think it was fun enough to be kept in:

...

a few more answers for fun (1-5)

writer asks

the last sentence you wrote

i cant remember which line i actually last wrote so here's the last line in current wip

He laughs again. In the silence where Ren tries to re-examine his own complexes, Akechi draws ahead on the wall.

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

ren! i think he's fun because he's the player character and the protags are generally designed to be pretty malleable (or personalityless if you're feeling uncharitable... or wrong) so obviously there's a temptation to just make him whatever your story needs him to be, but i think he's a really tempting and interesting opportunity to really get your claws into a guy who has a personality but refuses to show it and have that be one of his character traits. he's so adaptable to every situation but there are so many moments where his stubbornness and inner values shine through in his limited dialogue, so the challenge becomes like, how do you deduce the rest of a character's hidden personality based on the little they show you? how do you unpack someone whose character is that he wants to be whoever you want him to be? what's going on in his mind? how do you understand him and fill in the gaps in a way that's consistent with what he does in canon when he gives you so little to work with? this is an irresistible challenge to me so he just lives in my brain. he's not even renting he owns the place and he doesnt have a mortgage

3. how you feel about your current WIP

i think palacefic is the project that ignites the most personal passion and excitement in me so im really so excited to finish writing it so i can share it and also so i can read it instead of reading my own chickenscratch notes and think about how excited i am to write it

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

i keep coming back to circle this idea of postcanon akeshu and how they navigate a relationship (word used free of connotation) where they are constantly circling each other and obviously cant do without each other but also like. are so codependent and not at all functional enough to really have a normal romantic relationship or even friendship. i wrote like a short scene of this which i put on twitter a while back i might actually post it here. and i also started a short fic just to get some thoughts down but never had any plans for how to continue it

5. first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

im self conscious about how much of this has been about palacefic, so have a line from my death note longfic instead (i cheated this is like the tenth paragraph because the first paragraph is introductory and none of the lines make sense in isolation or they're too spoilery)

Well, when you eliminate the impossible.

[credulouscanidae]

not to sound like an influencer doing a sponsorship but man....hello/fresh has saved my life the last month

ive been giving it a go, and while the novelty has worn off a bit and im still battling some degree of executive dysfunction with cooking...i cannot even BEGIN to explain just how much it's helping me right now

i think the reason it works so well for me personally is that it eliminates every single hurdle i face when cooking. i get really overwhelmed at buying ingredients that may need to be used more than once (sauces, flavours etc) cuz i cant...plan out what meals i could use them for before they expire/perish.

also the idea of measuring things out, doing a lot of prep work and knowing exactly what to do adds to those little head blocks and it piles up to a feeling of impossibility etc.i waste so much money on perishables that expire and it's :/

so having pre-portioned ingredients, everything you have is what you need, has honestly given a spark back into cooking for me.

and i feel silly that i need this right now, cuz i should "just be able to cook" because i CAN cook. but the reality is that my depression and neurodivergence is quite uhhhhh life impacting at the moment. and ive gained so much weight, felt physically unhealthy/tired etc because i was at a stage where i could eat frozen pizzas and chips+pie or 2 min noodles every night. i started to crave fresh veggies and salads so badly, but i never bought them cuz they kept going off and theyre also very expensive ingredients for what they give me. same goes for flavours, where it can cost a lot for a bottle when you dont know if youre gonna finish it in time or like it etc, so you are less motivated to experiment with new flavours

this has been years and years of trying to eat better more consistently, and it seems that HF is finally something that is actually working for me.

a downside is that sometimes the cooking method is a bit inaccurate, but i also luckily have enough cooking skill to recognise and adapt it, so a lot of the cons to it hasnt been a dealbreaker for me yet.

again, ive probably just been riding some kinda high and man. i still feel extremely mentally ill lol, but i can feel the difference that a month of eating better has done for me. ive lost weight, have more energy, saved money (the meals are for 2 people so i get leftovers or 2 nights worth of food) and yeah....

i know this all sounds silly but even if it didnt save much money, i would pay that adhd tax because it's honestly changed my life for the better. not to mention ive also felt inspired to cook and i get to try new flavours which has also been cool! im not eating the same crap every night anymore.

just thought id...idk post some positivity for a change aaaaa