#not shown is my art desk where I draw and write and work but it’s a wreck rn lol

[coquettecowboy]

My room at the moment ^u^

[cinnoasch]

Charmed [1] (March x Reader)

A/N: I do plan on making a part 2, but still let me know if you want to see it! This was soo much fun to write.

Charmed [2] Here

Word Count: 2173

“March! Look, Y/N drew a picture of me!” Olric grins as he walks into the blacksmith’s shop. 

March turns around from his desk, taking the paper from Olric. “...why do you have bunny ears?”

“Oh, that was from when we helped Juniper out with something! Apparently, whatever she gave me made bunny ears appear on my head. Man, I was running laps around the town that day, I wonder, would she give me another one if I asked?”

Olric continues talking as March stares at the drawing. He didn’t know much about drawing, or art in general, but he had to admit it was good. Somehow he could almost picture Olric smiling and running around, just like he was in your drawing. 

“They’re really good right? I heard from Ryis they’ve been helping him with some blueprints too. Maybe Y/N could help with some blacksmithing blueprints in the future!”

“Don’t need it.” March grumbles, handing the paper back to Olric. “If anything, we have that under control already.” He sighs, standing up as he starts walking to the door. “Watch the till for me, I’m going to go work on some orders.”

“You got it, bro! Let me know if you need me!” Olric replies.

As March steps outside and sets off to work, he thinks about what Olric had said. He had a point. With the way the town rank was rising, more and more orders came in each day. Not to mention, along with orders came more complicated requests. Of course, it wasn’t a problem, he could handle it easily. Though, extra help couldn’t hurt sometimes. 

March shakes his head as he swings his hammer. Nope, not thinking about that. He pushes those thoughts away. If he needed help, he could just ask Olric. But, there was that one time where he and Olric were backed up and you had pitched into help… He sighs heavily. You were on his mind more than he’d like at the moment and you hadn’t even shown up yet. Not that he wanted you to or anything. 

He furrows his brow, setting the hammer down. He couldn’t concentrate on work at all. In fact, these past few days whenever you stopped by to say hi, March would always have trouble continuing work afterwards. But now, you haven’t even visited and he was having trouble concentrating. Was something wrong with him? He always felt oddly fuzzy and disgustingly warm whenever you came by. Was he getting sick? No…it was summer, there’s no way that was the case.

March pops his head into the shop, letting Olric know he was going for a walk. He needed to clear his mind and a walk around town would be perfect for that. As long as he didn’t see you or hear about you, he could take a break and get back to work easily… is what he initially thought.

Every place he went, March somehow can’t escape the topic of you. Not only that but no matter who he talked to, they just had to show him the portrait you gave them. And not only that, the stupid fuzzy, warm feeling only overstayed its welcome.

“Ryis? Are you here? I got those nails you needed.” March calls out as he walks into the carpenter’s shop.

“Upstairs!” 

He walks upstairs and into Ryis’ room. “Hey, here’s the nails.”

“Thanks. I’m surprised you came to deliver them. I was going to pick them up a little later today.”

“Yeah, I needed a walk. Working on blueprints?” March asks, looking at the papers scattered across the desk. Then his gaze falls on a paper to the side of the desk.

“Oh, that was from Y/N.” Ryis explains, following his gaze. “They helped me out with a project and in return ended up drawing me. It’s nice isn’t it?”

“Nice is one way to put it…” March mumbles. “I’ve been seeing their drawings everywhere. They probably gave one to everyone in town.”

“Except you?”

He scoffs, “Not like I care. They can do whatever they want.”

Ryis only chuckles, grinning slightly, “It’s okay to say you feel left out. If I were you, I’d probably be a bit upset that the person I like-”

“I do not like them.” March says, crossing his arms.

“Uh-huh...anyways, if you really want them to draw you, why not invite them to join in on drawing club this Friday? And you can volunteer to be the model.”

“No way… that’s a stupid idea…”

“Maybe, but it’s an idea. Or, you know, you could just ask them to draw you.”

“Okay, this conversation is over. I’m going home.” March says, walking downstairs.

Ryis chuckles, shaking his head as he returns to working on his blueprints. 

On his way back home, March couldn’t help but think of what Ryis said. There was no way in hell he would ever directly ask you to draw him. Wouldn’t that make him seem… weird? Or at least make it seem like he liked you when he definitely did not. March sighs as his thoughts continue to swim around in his head. He was definitely about to regret the decision he just made.

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

The rest of the week passes by and you find yourself entering the inn that Friday night after a long day of running around on the farm.

“Hey, Y/N over here!” Olric waves at you from the back of the inn. 

You wave back, and walk up to the table, seeing Valen, Elise, Landen, Hayden and March present as well. “Evening, everyone.” 

“Oh, dearie you’re just in time! Would you like to join tonight’s drawing club session?” Elise asks. “March here has graciously volunteered to be our model for tonight.”

March stands in front of the table, arms crossed. He looks at you expectedly, almost if he wants you to join.

“Sure, I’ll join.” You say with a smile. You take a seat next to Olric and he passes you a piece of paper and a pencil.

“Perfect!” Elise smiles, she clasps her hands together and gestures to March. “Now, strike a pose, March!”

“Uh, like what?”

“Oh, how about you flex? Show off your muscles!” Olric suggests. 

“Flex? Can’t I just stand like this?”

“Oh, that’s a perfect pose!” Elise replies.

Valen nods in agreement. “Yes, it does quite fit the image of a blacksmith.”

March sighs, mumbling. “Fine.” He was seriously beginning to regret this. Still, he places one hand on his hip and very begrudgingly lifts his other arm to flex. “You guys better burn this pose into your brains, I’m not going to stand like this the whole time.”

The group chuckles and you all set off to drawing. The lively chatter of the Drama and Dragon’s group behind you fills the air as well as conversations from the bar. After a few minutes Hayden speaks up, asking a question.

“Say Y/N, have you been drawing for a long time?”

“For a while, I guess?” You reply, as you glance up at March for a second before returning your gaze back to the paper in front of you. “I used to draw a lot of things I saw on my adventures.”

“Really? See any cool animals?”

“What about rocks?” Olric adds.

You laugh slightly, “I can bring some drawings next week to show, if you guys want.”

“Oh, yes please!” Elise chimes in. “You know, your drawings have a sort of romantic charm to them. That portrait you drew of me really brought back old memories.”

“I’ll say!” Landen grins. “That portrait you drew of Errol and I reminded me of the good ol’ days.”

Small conversations between you continue as March finally relaxes his arm. Everyone was practically singing praises about your portraits. He couldn’t quite understand what charm they were talking about though. He had seen your portraits of other people…but maybe he couldn’t understand because he never got one from you? 

March slowly steps closer to the table. He was curious. He had heard from Balor once that you mentioned you drew people based on what you thought of them. What exactly did you think of him?

“Are you… moving closer to the table, March?” Valen asks with a slight smirk. “You know the rules. You’ll get to see everyone’s drawings when we’re done. Y/N’s included.”

He freezes in place, his face heating up. “I was just…pacing.”

“Mm, well I’m sure we’re almost done, so be patient.”

“March, can you lift your arm up again?” Olric asks.

He sighs, flexing his arm again, mumbling underneath his breath. “No way am I doing this ever again.”

About ten minutes later, everyone finishes drawing and Elise smiles, waving March over to sit down. “I think everyone’s finished! Would anyone like to go first, or shall I start us off?”

“You can start us off, Elise.” Valen replies. “And… we’ll let Y/N go last since they’re the new recruit.” She glances at March as he frowns slightly at that statement. “Unless… March would like to choose who goes first?”

“Whatever is fine.” He mumbles, resting his chin in his hand.

And so, everyone showcases their drawings. You couldn’t help but smile as they explained certain details they added. It was pretty amusing to see that everyone had drawn March frowning.

“Am I seriously frowning in all of these?” March asks as he looks through the current drawings strewn across the table.

“Well, we did tell you to smile some.” Landen says with a chuckle. “But it looked like you were lost in your own little world this whole time.”

“We still have Y/N’s drawing to look at.” Valen adds. She smiles lightly at you and everyone turns their attention towards you. “If you would, Y/N.”

You nod as you slide your paper to the middle of the table.

“Oh!” Elise exclaims. “You drew him with a smile!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen March smile like this.” Valen muses. “What made you draw him with one?”

“Ah,” You rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “It just felt right, I guess. March…does a lot for Mistria, we all do. I can’t quite explain it… but a smile fits him better, don’t you think?”

“Hm, how thoughtful.” Valen says with a small grin. “What do you think about it, March?”

March stays silent as he stares at your drawing. An unexplainable feeling wells up inside of him as he looks at it. The feeling was similar to what he usually felt when you were around but… it was more clear in a way. There was something soft about it. Something…warm. It was different than when he saw your portraits of other people. March himself wasn’t even sure if he had ever smiled like that. But he was certain of one thing, he liked this feeling.

“Is he…smiling?” Hayden asks.

“I think he is.” Landen replies. “Huh, you don’t see that often.”

Then March lifts his head, the small smile from before disappears quickly as he stares at the group. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Oh, nothing.” Valen says. “Well, I guess we can wrap it up then. Actually, Y/N, why don’t you be the model for next week, you wouldn’t mind would you?”

You shake your head, “If anything I’d be honored.”

“Perfect. See you all next week then.”

With that, everyone cleans up the table and says their goodbyes. Some stick around at the inn, while you leave, seeing March had left in a hurry.

You spot him walking back toward his shop and you call out to him. “March!”

He turns around, hands stuffed into his apron pockets. “Oh, Y/N. Thought you'd be heading back to the farm.”

“I wanted you to have this.” You say, handing him the drawing. 

“...why?”

“I um…” you laugh slightly. “If I'm being honest, this is the only drawing that I felt confident with giving you.”

“Confident? …you mean you’ve drawn me before?”

“Yeah, actually… I was just never sure if you wanted them or not… but you seemed to really like this one, so I thought you might want it.”

March takes the drawing out of your hands, staring at it again for a few seconds before looking at you. “Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it. I’ve never gotten something like this before.”

You nod smiling, “No problem, I’m just glad you like it! I’m expecting your drawing in return next week then.”

“Even if it’s bad?”

“If it’s from you, then it doesn’t matter to me.” You say a bit softly. Then you clear your throat. “Anyways, night March, see you later!”

You turn on your heel and wave as you head back to the farm. March waves back and starts walking back to the blacksmith’s, staring at your drawing once more. Maybe he should ask to see those other drawings you did. He smiles slightly, that feeling from before creeping up on him. He was looking forward to next week.

[golby-moon]

got to try out tons of new things with this fic inspired by the Taylor Swift song "the lakes" in this year's @dcbtv

starting off with the banner and my experimentation with my drawing app flipaclip's blending modes that can make things look like light. this one has Dean's journal open on a desk with Cas' poetry book shown above it, all lit up by my attempt at a lantern. tried out a different brush entirely for the text in the book itself and I think it looks decently handwritten, if only because of how messy the writing is (wonder who's fault that is)

for the art piece, after some brain storming, the idea of making it look like a painting came up and I went from there, experimenting with layers and opacity and eventually came up with this. found out that it's weirdly really hard to get colors to blend together on the app, but I think some things like the water came out okay

with yet another new brush, I decided to make another art piece for this fic (a happier one this time with less pining from afar) and went with a scene later on in the fic where Cas reads to Dean outside their little cottage in a field of flowers. I added a tree to it because my back hurts just thinking about leaning against nothing and overall I think this looks okay. don't look too closely at the flowers or try to compare them to actual flowers or anything though since I didn't actually have any real life flowers in mind when I started scribbling uh

bonus panel of the face Cas originally had there because squinty!Cas ftw, though the content expression it was swapped to admittedly does fit the tone a little better

the fic this is made for is called "Lightkeeper O' Mine" by @king4aday for the deancas bang taylor's version(/taylor swift bang)

(09/21/23)

[bastard-asexual]

hey hey hey!

im not quite sure if requests are open or not, but if they are, i saw you’re writing for tts and wanted to ask for varian x reader? for prompt, could it be where reader leaves their sketchbook at his place and he flips through it to find countless drawings of him?

if you write this, i really appreciate it! have a nice day <333

Yes you may! varian is one of my favorite tts characters (alongside lance) so I really enjoyed writing for him.

-You and Varian had been friends for a while now, and drawing was one of your hobbies

-at the start of your friendship, you had shown him some of your drawings, and left your book sat out freely whenever you two hung out

-but for some reason you had stopped showing him your drawings.

-he didn't really question it, until you started constantly hiding your sketchbook whenever you were done drawing, and acting nervous whenever Varian got near it

-Varian had missed you showing him your sketches, and liked your art style, so he asked if you could show him some of your more recent works, but you quickly responded, "No.. I don't think that's really necessary" and then he was suspicious

-he began questioning what you could be drawing, but he just couldn't figure out what you would be so embarrassed of

-he wasn't going to say anything to you of course, because he both respected your privacy, and thought it would be weird to ask, "hey, why have you been hiding your drawings lately?" so he decided to let it go

-that was until you left you sketchbook sitting right next to his desk unattended

-you had left to grab some food and would be back in a minute, so you kinda forgot to put it away

-it probably wouldn't be a big problem, Varian was so absorbed in his work that your drawings wouldn't be of interest to him

-Varian however, let curiosity get the best of him, and opened up your sketchbook, only to see a drawing of himself

-he thought it was sweet of you to draw him, and decided to look at the rest of the pages

-but when he turned the page, it was met with another drawing of him, then another, and another

-the book was full of them

-Varian's face turned bright red, he was flustered at the first drawing, but a whole book full? he couldn't believe it.

-he couldn't believe the person he liked drew him so many damn times

-the sound of footsteps caused him to slam the book shut and run over to his workspace, his face still burning with embarrassment

-you walk back in to see an extremely flustered varian

-when you ask him why he looks that way, he quicks responds, "Nothing! just.. uah- hot in here haha"

-you know that's not it but it would be rude to push, so you sit back down in your seat to see your sketchbook moved over to the other side of the table, and sat down in a different way then you left it

-Varian couldn't have opened it.. had he?

-expect this to never come up in a conversation again, you two are two nervous to bring it up..

[little-ditsy-dreamer]

Imagine reading Viktors journal

 Hello! Been a few days. I have 2 more imagines coming very soon. If you would like a Titanic esc scene of him drawing you let me know. Of course that would lead to more ;) Enjoy the story!

Most of your days have been spent with both Jayce and Viktor. The days and nights lately have been blending together. Staying up, studying, reading. Everything you can possibly do to learn more. To potentially bring more inventions and every day tools to Piltover. You were part of their team but often felt you don’t contribute much. 

You sat on a small coach in the middle of the lab. Your feet propped up on the coffee table, reading a random book professor Heimerdinger recommended to you a while back. Jayce was hunched over the work desk fiddling with his newest creation. Then there was Viktor. Sitting backwards on a chair with his legs on each side of the back rest, scribbling down some notes. You often stare and wonder what he writes in it.

Though everyone in Piltover seems to fawn over the wonder boy, Jayce, you’ve been interested in the partner often left on the sideline. When he’s too distracted writing or reading, you often stare at him. Admiring his chestnut hair, and his hazel eyes, which when shown with just the right light, appear to almost be golden. 

Jayce lets out a loud sigh and leans back in his chair, putting his hands on his head. “I’m beat. My brain is completely fried. Haven't gotten to sleep in almost 3 days.” Viktor, not bothering to look up from his writings asks “Well, why don't you get some rest? We can pick up tomorrow.” Jayce nods and stands from his seat and looks over to you. “Keep an eye on him will you, Y/N?” You chuckle and nod. “Always do.” Jayce winks at you and heads to the door, opens it and before shutting it shots out a ‘goodnight’ to both of you.

Viktor stands up and stretches a little. “I’m going to grab a bite to eat. Care to come along?” You shake your head and look up at him. “I’m like 4 chapters off before I finish this. But grab me something too.”

“Of course.” He reply's already walking to the door. That's when you notice. He doesn't have his journal. You glance back to where he was sitting and see it there on the chair. You make sure he is completely gone before rushing over and picking up the journal. You hesitate for a moment. It seems wrong but the curiosity is almost too much for you. You shake your head and quickly flip it open to a random page. There’s some sketches of new inventions and some well written equations. Notes and thoughts written in beautiful, sloppy cursive. You keep flipping till you stop on the newest page. 

It takes you a minute to process what it was. It was a portrait of you, sitting on the couch reading. You run your fingers over the soft page and take it in. Could it mean something else? Or were you just romanticizing a simple art project.

“I didn't take you as the nosy type.” You whip your head around and suddenly you’re face to face with Viktor. He has a smut grin and one eyebrow raised. You hadn’t even heard him come in. “I forgot to bring this with me and came back for it.” He looked down at the journal. “Lovely, isn’t it? Couldn't think of a more beautiful person to draw.” You look up at him. Your cheeks hot with blush. 

“I’m sorry Viktor.” You say handing him his journal. He shakes his head and shrugs. “I’m sure I was going to show you eventually. But.. didn’t expect it to be today.” You look down at your shoes, embarrassed for letting your curiosity get the best of you.   

He brushed his hand over your cheek and lifts your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “Its ok. Maybe now I can sketch you up close. Been needing a full body model to study anyway.” He winks at you and turns away. You’re left dumbfounded. The feeling of his fingers on your face still lingering.”

[egg-emperor]

Do you think that modern eggman has any kind of appreciation for the arts? I see him as the type to appreciate literary works, primarily novels and maybe poetry from time to time. Possibly could be appreciative of fine/visual arts too if he's the one drawing out and designing his robots from scratch (If so, he must be a really good artist!)

Yes absolutely!! He definitely likes reading with all the books we see in one of his private rooms in Adventure!

I imagine that a bunch of them are informative books about science/robotics/machinery/etc, quite similar to how he got books from the library for research in Sonic X. He likes things that he might find useful for work, or he can read and find entertainment in knowing his own work and knowledge on the subjects they're about are far superior to theirs with his genius heheh

But I can also see him reading novels or poetry as another hobby to indulge in his free time and having a nice collection of them, maybe even a huge library somewhere! I could always picture him sitting down with a book to unwind after hard work and a stress relief. He'd be great at story in depth analysis and review and I can see him getting really immersed in it.

There have even been Sonic Official posts that imply that Eggman is an author himself. I'd love for that to be game canon so he could be interested in both reading types of literature from others and also doing writing of his own!

I'm sure he does design and draw out his ideas all by himself. You can see how often his special personal touches and unique design reflects in his creations, with the most notable being those that have any resemblance to his appearance and I adore it heheh. I can't picture anyone else drawing out his creations and designs for him. Because he's so smart, he's probably constantly getting ideas and inspiration all the time, including from things he sees in daily life and maybe commonly taking notes and sketching at the thought.

An example is how he's taken inspiration from various creatures and insects and found creative ways to incorporate and translate their known natural abilities into mechanical functions and attacks for his robots and I find that super cute. He's creating his machines for destruction and I'm like oh my god adorable lol. Designing and drawing it all by himself would be a big part of the pride and accomplishment for him, so they must all be drawn out and designed from scratch with his own hands. With his 300 IQ and genius, he's very imaginative, creative, and skilled!

He was also seen drawing for his creations in Sonic X, which I imagine his game self doing

And he also had stationary at his desk in this Sonic Channel art which he could use for both notes and drawing, so it does point towards that being true

I love to imagine that he's a beautiful and talented artist, he can draw incredible complex detailed artwork for his designs but also likes to scribble cute doodles in his notebooks for fun, like in this Sonic Official post XD 💜 So I can also see him having good artistic knowledge and the ability to analyze, review, and appreciate various works such as fine and visual arts too because he's very creative and imaginative himself. But he knows all if his own works are the greatest of all!

Sonic Official have also shown him to have an interest in music more than once in Twitter Takeovers, where he's talked about appreciating and even creating music. I do feel it would suit his game canon self well and him having an interest in showtunes is very believable! He said he'd tweet about his opinions if he had an account, so perhaps he could even be into analyzing music as well.

I also like the idea of IDW Eggman making figures by hand and I can definitely see him doing this in game canon as I like to imagine the plushies used as test dummies in Final Egg were hand sewn by him. And him drawing his ideas first and then making them into 3D figure models would make a lot of sense. That way he can save time and resources if he decides there's any changes he wants to make and assure that he's happy with it before the real production. He can get right to the tests of function with the actual thing then instead. It's also a fun hobby for him to have and I definitely think he'd like to play with them sometimes too!

I adore the idea of him being artistic and creative in many ways as it shows already through all the creations and designs of his we've seen in the games. Not only is he good at designing and building by hand as much as he can have them produced in his factories, but he's also interested and skilled in other handcrafted creations, art and design in other areas such as artwork and fashion, writing and appreciating various forms of literature, and perhaps even music. I believe in him having a plethora of talents as the brilliant genius he is. 💜💕

[morepeachyogurt]

a sky full of stars (and she was looking at her)

Word Count- 2.8k

Pairing- Penemily

Summary- Penemily highschool au where they are paired up on a English assignment! Based on this post.

Part 1 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series

Read it here on ao3

Tw’s- very small mentions of substances, minor swearing

A/N- this is the first installment of a series based on my yearning posts, and my first time writing romance/3rd pov, I’d love some feedback!

It’s hard to miss Penelope Garcia. With her bright clothes and brighter personally it seems like the sun shines a spotlight on her. Her golden hair is like a halo around her, she looks like an angel, and perhaps one of these days Emily will get the courage to talk to her beyond small talk and group presentations. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the shrill bell rings, too loudly for her tastes but this whole building seems to scream at her, so perhaps it’s fitting.

Ms. Blake starts to talk about ancient poetry. The greats from the time periods before everything got so complicated. English is not Emily’s favorite class but somehow Blake’s class is more or less interesting, is it because she’s a milf? Maybe, who’s to say. As the class nears its end, she announces, “Alright, as we close out our poetry unit, we have one last assignment that hopefully at least one of you will enjoy, it’s a group project where-” immediately two hands go up ready to ask the question that always gets asked when a group project is announced. “Before you ask, no, you aren’t picking your partners, I am,” a collective groan comes out of about half the class. Emily isn’t too mad about it though, she doesn’t have many friends, especially in honors English. JJ barely passes English as it is. She’s all alone here, so she’s glad she doesn’t have to suffer through the awkwardness of trying to find a partner before everyone else does and ending up with the one kid who she’s pretty sure has been high the entire year and likes to leer at her in the hallway. “For this assignment, you’ll have to analyze one famous poem, from whatever time period you’d like, and write an essay about the poet’s intentions. If you’d like extra credit, which I know for a fact some of you need, you can do a reading of the poem in front of the class or do a drawing that represents it. Any questions?”

The classroom fills with questions of ‘when is this due?’ And ‘this sucks do we have to do this’. Emily however, is distracted by one very colorful girl in the upper left corner of the room, her spot in the back lets her admire the view without being caught, which tends to make it difficult to pay attention, but well, some things are just more fun than others. Her attention is drawn back to Blake when she hears her name followed by Penelope Garcia.

Oh shit.

On the one hand, this is exactly the opportunity she’d been looking for to ‘make her move’ so to speak, on the other, she’s terrified of making a fool of herself. Emily realizes that she’s been sitting for a bit too long when Blake stops talking and the rest of the class has already paired off. She catches Penelope’s eyes and tries to fight the blush of her cheeks. The sound of her docs hitting the linoleum is a bit too intense for this setting, she prefers their ‘clunk’ when it’s a crowded room, and she can walk like she owns the place. Emily sits down at the desk adjacent to Penelope and gets ready to ruin her chances with her.

“Okay! Hi! I’m Penelope! Which you already knew because Ms. Blake announced it, but it’s polite to introduce yourself to people so I thought I would do that now which I’ve done so I’ll stop talking now!”

Emily can’t help but giggle a little at her rambling, she doesn’t want her to stop talking quite yet, her voice melodic to her ears.

“So, I’m not big in poetry, I’m more of a comic book gal if you catch my drift, so I was hoping that you had some thoughts?” She drags the o in hoping and trails off waiting for Emily to fill in the blanks. It takes her a second too long because her brain is short-circuiting but she manages.

“Yeah okay, um, I’ve read some Sappho back when my mother was stationed in Greece? That could work?” she hopes bringing up Sappho wasn’t too obvious of her intentions, but it was all she could think of. Sappho had a point when she said ‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave – slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl’

“Yeah okay! Cool! We’ve got like 3 minutes left of class, would you want to go to Bricks and Beans after school to work on it?”

“Uh yeah, yeah, that, um, that sounds great! I’ll meet you in front of the school?”

“Yep!” She pops the ‘p’ and Emily thinks she can’t possibly get cuter.

Emily’s walk to lunch has never been quite this mix of excitement and anxiety as it is now. Hopefully, JJ will be able to make sense of what’s happening because the wires in Emily’s brain are very much twisted.

“Okay, I’m telling you it’s not a date,”

“Yeah I know it’s not technically a date but come on. I personally have never asked my group project partner to a coffee shop before. She obviously likes you.”

Jennifer Jareau has been blessed with the right combination of looks that ensures she never had to wonder if her crushes liked her back. Emily wishes she had that special brand of confidence, but it’s simply not realistic, the number of openly queer girls at school is small, the number of them that would be interested in her? Even smaller.

“Look I’m not going to be the loser that gets my heart broken all right,” she steals a fry off of JJ’s tray before her hand gets smacked.

“Ugh I’m so bored here, promise me you’ll at least try. I need some new drama around here and you two would be so fucking cute.”

“Fine. On the condition that when* it goes south you’re buying me ice cream.”

Emily’s day goes by slowly and all at once. Hours turn into years turn into seconds and before she knows it she’s awkwardly standing outside the building waiting for Penelope to meet her.

When she does, Emily’s pulse quickens ever so slightly in her presence. It’s annoying as hell.

“I was worried you were standing me up,” a futile attempt on Emily’s behalf of trying to seem calm, cool, and collected.

“What! I would never, I’ve been looking forward to getting a macchiato and hanging out with you and Sappho all day! Coolest ladies from recent history,” she has to try and stop herself from getting too excited at Penelope’s words, they don’t mean anything, she’s just some loser that she has to work with to get a good final grade in the class. A means to an end, disposable.

“I don’t think Sappho counts as recent history but thank you, ma’am,” ma’am? God, what is she doing, this is going to go south faster than the time she tried to wear ripped jeans to one of her mother’s stupid dinner parties. To her surprise, her stupid comment is met with a giggle on Penelope’s part.

“Why thank you darling,” she replies in a phony southern accent that makes them both crack up, “Lead the way.”

Bricks and Beans is the staple coffee shop where all the high schoolers hang out after school or work during college. The owners are a sweet old couple in their 70’s who seem to be reliving the past with the vintage decorations. The pair settle into a table in the back, a window next to them showing off the highway. Emily is tasked with buying the coffees and Penelope rattles off her order filled with things Emily’s never even heard of.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure the barista is laughing at me now but here is your sugar coffee with whipped cream,” she says as she slides into her seat, placing down the coffees on the minimal free space left.

“My savior,” she says, fake swooning, “Okay so, Sappho? That’s the lesbian right?”

Emily answers with a snort before actually replying, “Yeah that’s the lesbian. I’m sure Blake will love it. I’m like, 90% sure she’s gay.”

“Single English teacher who loves Oscar Wilde? Yeah, I get it. My gaydar is spectacular by the way.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods.

“Um, yeah, okay how about this poem:

‘and in your song most of all she rejoiced.

But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women

as sometimes at sunset

the rosyfingered moon

surpasses all the stars. And her light

stretches over salt sea

equally and flowerdeep fields.

And the beautiful dew is poured out

and roses bloom and frail

chervil and flowering sweetclover.

But she goes back and forth remembering

gentle Atthis and in longing

she bites her tender mind’”

“That’s gorgeous,” Penelope had a dreamy look in her eyes, like seeing a beautiful sunset for the first time. Except, instead of a sunset she was looking at Emily, seeing her, like for the first time, “I love when artists talk about the stars,” she leans back on her chair and looks up as if she’s looking at a constellation and not an off-white popcorn ceiling. Her collarbones are exposed and Emily feels like a 17th-century peasant pining over exposed ankles, “There’s just something about the stars ya know? They’re so far away, but sometimes it feels like we’re there with them. They twinkle at us and at each other,” she pauses to make eye contact, “maybe the greatest love story is in the sky,” there’s a beat too long, Emily doesn’t know how to respond to that comment, it’s hard to follow art without ruining it.

“Or maybe I’m just a sad sap for romance.”

“No!” She gets a of couple heads turned her way, the exclamation too loud for the environment, “I mean no, I get what you mean, they’re beautiful. Sometimes at night I go on my roof just to stargaze. It’s so peaceful there,” it’s now or never, “you should do it with me someday.”

“I’d love that,” it’s almost bashful, the two of them hoping the underlying meanings of their words are being shown, lest their hopes not be conveyed and come shattering down like a falling star.

The sun slowly sets as they work on interpreting the inter-workings of Sappho’s mind. The drinks run out so Emily buys them both hot chocolate, extra whipped cream and chocolate chips for Penelope. When she takes a sip, the whipped cream sticks to the side of her face.

“You got some whipped cream on your face,” she gestures to the offender in question. The blonde tries and fails, to get it off.

“Did I get it?”

“No, it’s more,” after some failed attempts, and the failure of Emily’s common sense, she decides to just get it off herself. It feels too intimate too quick, they both freeze, Emily’s hand inches away from Penelope’s face. Their eyes lock, scared brown eyes met soft blue ones and just for a second, there is peace in between their beating hearts and hands. Emily quickly brings her hand down and mumbles an apology.

After three hours they call it a night, Emily now the proud owner of Penelope’s phone number. On her drive home, she wonders if she’d done right, and she wonders if she’d done wrong. If she was clear about what stargazing meant to her. A branch into her world, her safe space. To share the dark night sky with something is to share your soul with them. Even JJ didn’t know about her nighttime viewings. Did Penelope feel the same way? The shared smiles and small laughs pointed yes. But Penelope was Penelope and Emily was Emily. How could an angel love a human? Why would it sacrifice its virtue for the danger of love? If Penelope was pink and Emily was dark green, could they mix and make something beautiful or would they both end up a ruined brown?

Dinner is tense as always, she does not share anything with her mother, she does not want to. They tiptoe around each other hoping that they won’t step on each other’s toes and crash. Emily retreats to her room the second dinner is over and opens a window. She loves that it gets dark earlier now. The fresh fall air trumps that tacky of scented candles that fill the house in a futile attempt to make it a home. She opens her laptop to finish the concluding paragraph of their essay. She allows herself to be lost in the words of another in order to avoid her own problems of love and belonging. Her phone rings. It’s her problems. They chat with careful conversation about their project and finally, it is finished. It looks good actually, or at least, to Emily it does. It’s not going to win them a Pulitzer, but they’ll get an A.

And then, “Hey.”

“Hey?” They’ve been on the phone for a half an hour, she’s not sure why she’s being greeted all of a sudden.

“Does your offer to stargaze still stand? It’s nice out tonight and, I don’t know, it sounded nice?”

“Yeah of course! Do you, um, do you need a ride or?”

“Nah I got my license and good old Esther. I do need your address though.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll text it to you. Who’s Esther?”

“My car! She’s a lovely thing thought she needed a name. I’ll be there in say, 15 minutes?”

“Sure. Bye Penelope.”

Holy shit.

Okay, she’s got 15 minutes to both have everything ready, but also seem completely casual about the fact that her crush is coming over to stargaze on her roof. The ambassador is long retreated either in bed or into her office, so she shouldn’t be a problem. Emily grabs a couple of blankets for them to sit on to avoid the chilly breeze and a bag of popcorn. She brushes her hair and touches up her eyeliner, not that it’s really visible in the dark, but it helps her feel confident which she’s desperate for at the moment. Her phone buzzes with a text, *im here!!!* It reads. She takes a deep breath before very slowly opening the door.

“Hi,” she whispers, the wind carrying her voice, but it’s just loud enough for its recipient. She closes the door

“Hi! So! Stargazing? That’s fun, I’m like, really excited it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this,” she somehow makes a whisper seem filled with enough energy to power a flashlight that Emily definitely should have brought. They make their way to the intersection where the hill meets the rooftop, and they only trip once, on a stick, but together they stay upright. Emily throws the blankets on the roof and climbs up on the chair before throwing her body on the roof. With her help, Penelope makes her way up after a couple of tries. By the time they lay the blankets out and are sitting down, they’re both practically crying from laughter, her nerves from earlier disappearing slowly.

The laughter fizzles out, and they’re both left staring at the stars. Penelope apparently is an expert of both astronomy and astrology so Emily’s ears are blessed with the sound of her voice. Like sunshine on a sweet summer day. She thinks that Penelope and her are like the sun and the moon, both beautiful, and complementary. Emily’s gaze shifts from the constellations to Penelope’s side profile. The stars shine almost as bright as her, and she can’t help but watch her instead. She can see the stars in her eyes, perhaps they were always there, but they’re more visible now looking in their reflection.

“God they’re beautiful,” Penelope says in awe. Like she can’t believe she’s blessed with the presence of the stars when really it is the stars who should have the honor.

“Yeah, yeah they are,” at this point she’s openly gazing at Penelope. When Penelope turns to meet her gaze she thinks she’s been caught, that it’s over and this night will be one for the ages in terms of beauty and heartbreak. Slowly, a hand makes its way to her cheek, cold like the air around them, but it somehow manages to set her skin on fire.

“May I?”

Emily nods and then they are lips on hers, it is sweet just like her. She’s being kissed under the starlight by a girl who deserves only beauty. Perhaps her dark green can be the field by the sunset of Penelope’s pink in the painting they make together. They do not have to mix, they can simply be combined to create something stunning. They can simply be. They pull apart slowly, and looking into her eyes, Emily thinks that the stars in comparison are simply dull. There is nothing as bright and beautiful in the world as the eyes of your lover.

Tag list- @royalpenelope @scandinavian-punk @kermitsaysgayrights

[worlds-smallestviolin]

Mother

Masamune x MC

genre: angst/fluff

word count:2208

summary: retelling of Masamune’s love’s union gacha story from MC’s POV

a/n: It always bothers me how MC just decides to stay in past without care about her family, so for stories sake let’s assume Sasuke went back to the future.

           With everyone asleep, Aoba was a quiet place; quite a contrast compared to how loud and lively it was during the day (it is Masamune’s castle, after all). Having changed into my sleeping robe, I was sitting on the futon, waiting for my lover to join me ( I’d say to sleep, dear reader, but we both know that would be a lie.).And my handsome Masamune was still at his desk, working despite the late hour. He may be a wild tiger, but he took his responsibility as a head of the clan very seriously. He did everything he could to make life easier for the people of Oshu. And I’m not just talking about him going to war or battling demons of paperwork. I mean little things as well, like cooking a meal for his men on patrol, or writting letters to his vassals to thank them or simply talk about what’s been going on lately. “You shouldn’t write in the dark. It’s bad for you’re eye.”, I broke the silence hoping to convince him to put down the brush for tonight. “I know, I know. I’ll be done in a second. You just wait for me like a good kitten”, he said, raising his head to flash me a smile that made my heart skip a beat or two. “Meow!”, My god, I’m such a dork. I hugged my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. Masamune returned his attention to the letter he was writing, and again silence settled in.

Having nothing else to do but wait, I soon got lost in my own thoughts. Some time has passed since I started living here in Aoba. It still surprises me how quickly I’ve gotten used to the life here. Masamune encouraged my worked as a seamstress. He had a room prepared for me, where I could sketch and make clothes; I already had a few clients. He would often keep my drawings to hang on the wall, always repeating how much he loved my art. I’ve made friends with maids, and Kojuro and guys were always there to lend a helping hand. I spent my free time with Masamune, getting into all sort of adventures, and sometimes troubles. We would go for a ride, or a walk around town, we ate delicious food, we cooked together, we laughed and we made love. All in all, life was good. I remember how nervous I was in the days before we left Azuchi, worrying if I would be accepted in Oshu as I was among Oda. Not to mention that I’m still not completely used to the life in Sengoku period. Yes, things are great so far. But from time to time, I can’t help giving voice to my old insecurities. What happens if this doesn’t work out? The picture of my parants forms in my mind, only to slowly morph into that of Masamune and I. And their insults and shouts fall from our lips, that so far know only sweet kisses and sweet nothings. No, I don’t want to think of that.

I quickly try to banish those thoughts back into the dark corners of my mind. Luckly for me, a voice calls from outside our room. “Pardon me for the intrusion this late at night, my lord. There is a letter from Lady Yoshihime.” Masamune receives the letter and tells both man to get some rest. Once we are alone again, I couldn’t help voicing my curiosity: “Who’s Lady Yoshihime?” “My mother.”, he says, and something about his indifferent voice makes me feel uneasy. “I’ve noticed she doesn’t live in the castle with us…”The first day I came here they held a feast to celebrate Masamune’s return and my arrival, where Masamune introduced me to a lot of people that are important to him. You’d think that his mother would be among them. “She poisoned me when I was young. There’s messy politics with her side of the family, so it seemed best we live apart.”, he said it as if he was informing me about the weather outside.“I’m sorry, WHAT?” I misheard that, right? He did not just say his mother tried to have him killed. I stared at him, trying to process what he just told me. “It’s not that strange. When it comes to the succession of a clan, things often get ugly. With the loss of my eye, she must have thought I wasn’t fit to be the head of the Date and decided to take matters into her own hands.” Shock quickly turned into anger. She tried to kill her own child because of something that wasn’t his fault, something he couldn’t change. For a moment, I thought of my own mother, who believed motherhood to be the most sacred and joyous role a woman could have, who loved and supported unconditionally and would give up anything and everything for her children. I could not imagine how difficult it must have been for Masamune, being sick and losing your eye. And the one person who was supposed to love him more than anyone betrays him like that. My heart filled with sorrow. It must have shown on my face, because Masamune tried to reassure me with a smile: “I barely remember it. Must not have been that bad, or I wouldn’t have forgotten, right? If I let it trouble me, I wouldn’t be fit to be a lord, and that would only prove my mother right.” His words reminded me of what Master Kosai told me about Masamune. “One who would stand above others must be most strict with oneself. They must work as hard as their hardest workers and be always deserving of the praise their station affords them. Their pain they must learn to bear with on their own, for they will at times be alone. Those were the lessons I instilled in that young child. He survived by embracing what I taught him. So much that he no longer needs to ‘act’ to be the ideal leader from his lessons. But our nature is unchanging. In the deepest part of Masamune’s heart that injured young child remains.

Having read the letter, Masamune joined me on the futon. Smile on his face, he patted my head. But for a moment, a mere second, I saw something in the depth of his eye. You never tamed you’re demons, Masamune, you just kept them on a leash. And the wounds of heart are never quick to heal. You could try to ignore them, you might even forget them. But they remain there somewhere, waiting for a chance to overwhelm you. And if you cannot entrust them to anyone else, at least entrust them to me. So I pulled him down to bed with me, holding him close to my chest, his cheek resting against my breast. I run my fingers softly through his hair. “I want you to listen carefully to what I’m about to say. I love you, so you don’t ever have to hide how you feel when you’re around me. You’re not my lord, Masamune. You’re the man I love; a fun guy who acts all cool but has the most adorable blush, the one who can kiss my heart into a full stop and then restart it with a touch, someone who always protects me and encourages me. And I will always be here for you. So leave the perfect leader outside this room, and just be my Masamune.” He tried to protest but, I wouldn’t let him. Then he turned his face from me, and for a moment I thought he might cry. But after a while he met my eyes again. “I’ll try.”, he said with a smile. I guess old habits die hard. “That’s a start.” I kissed his forehead and continued running my fingers through his hair. Eventually I felt him relax as he drifted to sleep. But my brain was too busy for that. I was angry at Lady Yoshihime, I was sad for Masamune. And in the stillness of the night, my mind wandered to that dark corner again. I was afraid.

Hearing about Masamune’s mother made me think about my own parents. I knew they must be worried about me. Sasuke promised to deliver my letter. Hopefully, that will ease their hearts. It wouldn’t be the first time I disappeared of the radar. They were good parents, for the most part. Well, when it comes to my father, the best I can say is that he tried. He never failed to tell me he loved me. I never once doubted it. But he wasn’t the easiest man to get along with. He had his opinions and his expectations, and those were set in stone. Being his eldest child, the bar was set especially high for me. He worked two jobs to save money for my education. And though he never understood my passion for fashion, he supported me, so long as he didn’t have to listen to me talk about it. He never raised his hands on us, but his anger was something to be feared. My mother, on the other hand was a saint. I’ve never heard her raise her voice. No matter what troubled her, she always wore a smile. She was the one who took care of us when we were sick, fed us, helped us do homework or study for exam, attended every parents meeting, every school play… She was there to listen to us for hours and comfort us. She was there for every tear and every smile.

But as good as they were in their roles as parents, they were the worst couple I’ve ever seen. I could count the times I remember seeing them being affectionate towards each other on the fingers of my hands, if those hands were in a terrible accident and were missing a few fingers. Instead, there were fights and shouting, and then days of them ignoring each other, and us walking on eggshells around them. They would act more affectionate towards me and my brother, as if they were competing for our love. And it was always about something small and insignificant, a misplaced item or misheard word. It always ended with the ‘talk’ where my father would insist they just forget and move on. There were never any apologies, they never talked things through.

My parents didn’t marry for love, or at least if they did it was quickly spent. They did their best not to let their fights affect the kids. My childhood was for the most part a happy one. But the older I got, the more I noticed the cracks that began to show. They were not happy, although they stubbornly maintained that illusion. What makes someone choose to stay and live a life next to a person that makes them miserable? Why don’t you just leave him? I heard my aunt say to my mum one time. I do it for my children. I could never leave them. They are my everything. Maybe that was the moment when the fear was born, squeezing my heart each time she smiled. I was causing her pain just by being, a cage to a bird who otherwise could simply fly away. And I started to wonder if one day I too will be like that. “Mom, I love you. But I don’t want to become you.”, I said on the night before my cousin’s wedding, when the conversation inevitably turned into wedding talk, and I tell her I don’t ever want to marry. I see a heart breaking in those eyes. A single shard of glass melts and runs down her cheek; on its way, leaves my heart bleeding as well. Still she smiles: ” So long as you’re happy, I’ll be happy too.”.

The sky is still pale yellow-blue. I stared at the eye of a calm sea, and I felt calm as well; last night’s shadows fleeing before the morning light. Or maybe it’s Masamune’s touch that chases them away. He was always good at that, erasing my insecurities. Though I now know he was plagued by them too. Both of us are with hidden corners in our hearts, echoing with the words “You’re not good enough.” A doubt dwells in the back of the mind; his slumbers deep within, mine lingers just beneath the skin. Still I believe we’ll be alright. “ I want you’re face to be the first thing I see in the morning. Whether we’re at war, or everything is peaceful. I want that tomorrow, and the day after, and forever more.”, he brushed his finger along my cheek. I knew it won’t always be easy, I knew many things will try to break us apart. Still I believed in us. Whatever we might face, with you by my side, I was confident enough. “ My love for you will never change, Masamune.” He drew me to his chest, I felt his tears touch my head. The beating of his heart told me they were not tears of sorrow. I remained quietly in his arms, as another tear slides down my cheek. Mother, I’m happy now.    

[skiller0dani]

Cherry Pie (1) | Billy Mitman

M A S T E R L I S T

smut | slow burn  requests info wanna be on a Timmy taglist? click here

surprise I wrote a Billy short series! For this however I’m not using Y/N, I have an actual OC name picked out for this character. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

lemme also clear some stuff up YES this is a teacher/student relationship story NO there are no adult/under-aged person relationships  YES I made Billy 18 in this story, because lets say he’s in his final semester of senior year.  NO smut will not be in every chapter of this short story. It’s a SLOW BURN. meaning I will be adding sexual tension to every chapter to build up the anticipation for when it finally happens. 

| Upon realizing her emotional and mental health was in desperate need of assistance, Miss Rachel Stevens had requested a week off in order to address these issues with a professional. To sub her senior English Class is Miss. Alice Perribow, the resident Art teacher at Valley High School. | 

***

MONDAY

Alice Perribow was what you’d imagine as a well put together woman. Smart, well dressed, on time, prepared, as a teacher she was the definition of responsible. This was simply to mask the fact that her entire life was falling apart, going through a messy divorce and property battle over her perfect house with her soon to be ex husband was causing some outside stress. Alice never brought home stress to work, she allowed herself to indulge in the happiness her job gave her, even for 8 hours a day. So when Rachel Stevens came knocking on Alice’s office door after hours and pleaded her to sub- Alice was hesitant to say yes but agreed anyway. She always has had an inability to say no to people who have shown her nothing but kindness, and Rachel was very kind. Alice’s hair was messier than it normally would have been this Monday morning, she had been running late due to a mistimed alarm. Her brunette hair was thrown up in a messy bun and her short heels clicked down the hallway as she rushed to Rachel’s classroom. The only way Alice could make this work was by subbing in the afternoon, the librarian Mr. Fredricks subbed the morning classes. Alice also had to teach Art in the morning, but didn’t have classes in the afternoon, usually just private lessons with students. 

Alice was quite pleased to see no students waiting in the classroom when she pushed in, and unceremoniously dropped her things onto the desk sending a binder of papers crashing to the ground. “Shit,” Alice mumbled to herself as she crouched down to gather the papers. Suddenly a pair of dark tennis shoes joined her as someone crouched to help her pick up the papers. When Alice looked up, her throat closed only slightly upon looking into the greenest eyes she’s ever seen. A pair of green eyes that belonged to Billy Mitman, “thank you Billy.” Alice smiled, taking the papers from him as she stands. She’d seen Billy around the hallways before, and he’d also been by her office a few times for piano lessons. “Of course Miss Perribow.” He says, flashing her a smile before turning down the row of chairs to his desk. His eyes stayed on her and he only wondered where Miss Stevens was for a fleeting moment before his focus returned to Miss Perribow. She was beautiful, her dark hair framed her face perfectly and her eyes were so bright as she turned to the whiteboard. Miss Perribow was a bit curvier than Miss Stevens, and Billy couldn’t take his eyes off the way those jeans hugged her hips. Billy knows it’s wrong for him to be thinking of his teachers this way, but girls his own age don’t interest him. 

She so gracefully wrote her name out on the whiteboard as more students trickled in. Margot came in and beamed when she saw Miss Perribow, “good afternoon Miss Perribow!” She exclaimed and Alice turned with a smile on her face. Alice already knew Margot fairly well, she had taken Alice’s Art class every single year of her high school career. “Margot, so good to see you.” Alice said, a dimple popping out on her left cheek. Billy smiles fondly at the small dimple in her cheek. Soon the first bell was ringing and Alice closed the door before turning to address the class, “I’m sure a lot of you already know me but in case you don’t- I’m Miss Perribow. I’m going to be the afternoon sub for Miss Stevens this week.” She smiled and Billy noticed two boys adjacent to his left sharing a look before turning their horny gaze back towards Alice. “So from what I understand is that you were about to start the Canterbury Tales yeah?” She asks for clarification, and Margot nodded happily. Alice smiles warmly at Margot before pulling a copy of the book, “what would you say the overall theme of this tale is?” She asks and the entire room falls into silence. Margot glances around before raising her hand, “it’s clearly about courtly love. These two men, once family nearly beat each other to death to prove they deserve her affections. In my opinion, it’s a tale of how poisoning love can be.” 

One of the boys to Billy’s left snickers, “did we read the same thing? Because I’m pretty sure one of them got sick from a gnarly case of blue balls.” He says with a smirk, and most of the class erupts in laughter. He’s a big guy, definitely a football player and built like a tank. In fact if Billy recalls correctly, that’s what most people call him: Tank, even though his real name is Leon. He leans forward on his desk, eyeing Alice. “Do you know what that is Miss Perribow?” Tank smiles slyly and Billy feels annoyance bubbling in his chest. Alice manages a small smile as she turns her attention towards Tank, “you know Leon, I think it would be a much better idea to return to the Knights Tale.” Alice dismisses but Tank turns to his friends and smirks before clearing his throat loudly. “It’s when a girl gets a guys engine revving, and he pops a hard one, but then she doesn’t do anything about it. She just leaves him there with blue balls. Get it? Cause they’re sad.” Tank raises an eyebrow as Alice turns to look back at him. She smiles warmly, doing her best to keep her frustration at bay as she strolls down the row towards Tank’s desk. She leans over on Tank’s desk, placing her palms flat on the surface of the desk. “Tank, it seems you have forgotten that I know your mother personally. Shall I give her a call and inform her that you thought it would be appropriate to educate the class on sex ed today?” She asks, her tone serious while Tank’s cheeks turn scarlet.

The class giggles quietly as Tank sinks back into his desk, but when Alice turns Tank whips his phone out and snaps a photo of her ass. “Delete that.” Billy snaps loudly, drawing Tank’s attention as well as everyone else in the room. Alice turns, her eyebrows furrowed as Tank and Billy are locked in a deep glaring match. “What the hell are you talking about freak?” Tank snaps and Billy takes a deep breath through his nose as Alice makes her way back down the row of desks. “I saw you take a picture of Miss Perribow, and I know you didn’t take it because you really like her jeans.” Billy snaps and Alice’s eyebrows raise as she turns towards Tank. Tank’s cheeks are red, but not with embarrassment- this time it’s with anger. “Leon, please see me after class. Billy, you too.” Alice says, looking over the both of them before returning to the lesson. Billy keeps his eyes on Tank for the remainder of class, and he hates when he sees Tank shamelessly look down Alice’s shirt. When the bell rings, neither of the boys move as Alice walks towards them and sits in the desk in front of Billy. Their eyes meet and Alice quickly looks away when she feels the tingles shoot through her body. “Somebody want to tell me what’s going on here?” She asks, looking between the boys. 

“Yeah Tank is a pervert and took a picture of your ass.” Billy snaps, his voice tense as he glares over at Tank. Alice’s cheeks flush as she averts her eyes to Tank, “is that true?” She asks and Tank rolls his eyes. “Which part? Because no I’m not a pervert, I’m a lover baby. Did I take a picture of your ass? Hell yeah, I’ll need some jack off material for later.” Tank snickers, simply enjoying the rise he gets out Billy with every word out of his mouth. Billy pushes up from his desk angrily, and Tank stands too. The two of them are chest to chest and they stand eye to eye, although Billy is the same height as Tank- he’s not nearly as muscular. Alice stands, and when Tank’s eyes avert to her Billy immediately steps in front of her. “Boys, you both need to calm down. I think this conversation should be continued in Mr. Alvarez’s office.” Alice says, trying to move between the boys but Billy won’t let her get anywhere near Tank. “I’d happily bend you over his desk if that’s what you mean.” Tank smiles and Billy is lurching forward before Alice arms curl around him to hold him back. “Tank you need to leave,” Alice snaps and he shrugs as he casually walks out of the classroom. The bell rings again, signaling the end of the school day as Billy stands in the classroom- his chest heaving. 

“Billy, you know he was saying that just to make you angry right?” Alice says gently, and he shrugs as he reaches for his bag. Billy begins to head for the door when Alice’s left hand catches his eye, “Miss Perribow, aren’t you married?” He asks, stopping when he notices her lack of wedding ring. Alice is surprised to say the least, she didn’t imagine any of her students paid that much attention. “We’re um- separated.” Alice explains awkwardly and Billy nods as his eyes stay fixed on her. Alice’s cheeks heat up under Billy’s gaze and she takes a deep breath to control her emotions. She’s just lonely without Ben that’s all, she’s projecting her feelings of loneliness on a handsome student. He’s a teenager, and she needs to get herself together. “What happened?” He asked and what scared Alice the most about Billy’s question, was how genuinely he asked her. The look on his face makes her think he genuinely cares, but she knows about Billy. Rachel gave her a bit of a warning on Billy’s own issues with projecting his feelings on others. He doesn’t really care, he’s just projecting. “Sometimes things just don’t work out.” Alice smiles through the breaking of her heart. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, ignoring the look that Billy is giving her. A look that says he isn’t buying her bullshit line. 

“Was he a douchebag or something?” Billy asks, sitting back against a front row desk as Alice begins to pack up her things into her bag. “Billy, language.” Alice scolds gently, ignoring the cheeky smile on Billy’s face when he notices her flushed cheeks. “He did something didn’t he?” Billy says, and Alice gives him another look before sighing deeply and running a hand down her face. “Yes he did, and I don’t really want to talk about it.” Alice says and Billy nods instantly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Alice turns to her book and begins to look over the lesson for tomorrow as Billy makes his way out of the classroom, and he nearly says something he shouldn’t but he bites his tongue. Alice spends at least another hour sitting at that desk, writing out the lesson for tomorrow. In the back of her mind her thoughts drift back to Billy, he’s charming and sweet in a boyish way. He’s smart, and he thinks deep thoughts- Rachel says he thinks quite philosophically. Tank however is becoming a problem that deeply concerns Alice, he’s much taller and much stronger than she is. The next morning she’ll have to talk to Mr. Alvarez about him. 

The sun is setting when Alice makes her way towards the parking lot but out of the corner of her eye she sees a figure leaning against the school. Turning her head, her cheeks warm when she sees Billy leaning against the brick wall with a cigarette in his mouth. “Billy?” She calls, and he glances her way with a smile on his face. Alice hugs her bag to her chest as she makes her way towards Billy, “what are you still doing here?” She asks him and Billy shrugs, taking another drag from his cigarette. He rests his head back, his signature blue hoodie loosely hanging around his shoulders. “Skipped the bus.” He says with a smile as he blows smoke out. He turns his gaze to hers and he cocks an eyebrow when he notices her cheeks warm. Alice steps back, “why?” She asks him, and he chuckles as he drops his cigarette butt to the ground before putting it out with his shoe. Billy pushes off the wall and steps towards Alice, and her breath catches in her throat. “I wanted to see you Miss Perribow,” Billy breathes and Alice feels a shiver run down her back. This is a student. Alice steps back further, trying to distance herself from Billy. “Billy that’s- that’s not appropriate. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Alice says, her voice rushed as she turns towards her car. 

“I don’t have a ride, so I hope you’re comfortable leaving a student alone at night with no way to get home. Guess I’ll have to walk.” Billy says, his voice lilted mischievously. Alice halts, her back still facing him. As a teacher, she can’t leave him here alone. “I’ll give you a ride, this once.” Alice says and Billy smirks as he lifts his bag over his shoulder before falling into step next to Alice. “It’ll be our little secret Miss Perribow.” He says with a wink and Alice simply slides into the driver seat of her car. The silence in the car is a tad bit uncomfortable as Alice pulls the car out of the parking lot, and heads towards Billy’s house. “Is Perribow your maiden name?” Billy asks suddenly, the street lamps illuminating his face as the car passes underneath them. Alice bites at her bottom lip as she turns the corner, “yeah it is.” She says and Billy nods with a soft hum. Alice dreads heading back home, Ben is probably there and she doesn’t feel like facing him at this moment. “What did he do? Your ex-husband?” Billy asks, his voice soft as he looks over at her with gentle eyes. Alice feels a rush of emotion sneak up on her, god this is so unprofessional. She keeps her eyes on the road as she softly sniffles, “he cheated on me.” Billy is quiet, but Alice knows his eyes are on her. 

When the tears come, Alice feels beyond embarrassed and refuses to look at Billy. “Pull over.” He says, and Alice pulls in front of a house putting the car in park. She wipes her eyes as she turns to look at him, “is this your house?” She asks, trying to divert the attention from her misty eyes. Billy turns in his seat to look at her, one of his hands coming to hold hers. “No, but you shouldn’t be alone right now.” He says and Alice pulls her hand from his while quickly shaking her head. Alice takes a deep breath before turning to look at him, “Billy no I need to get you home, your parents are worried sick I’m sure.” She argues, it’s time to be the responsible adult. Billy stubbornly shakes is head, “nope told them I was hanging with Sam and wouldn’t be home until late. Look if you don’t want me here I’ll get out and just hang out until later-” Billy starts, turning to get out of the car but Alice places a hand on his arm to stop him. “Just tell me where you live-” She asks but Billy opens the door and exits the car. With a heavy sigh Alice exits her car after him, “Billy! It’s not safe for you alone.” She tries to reason but he just keeps walking. Feeling panic and worry for his well being Alice calls out after him once more. 

“Okay you’re right! I don’t want to be alone, but you are a student. An underaged student. I’m breaking a law just being with you now after hours.” Billy stops, and then turns to look at her. Their eyes lock as he makes his way back towards her, “I’m old enough to know what I want. I want to help you tonight.” Billy argues but Alice waves her hands. Why does she have to be so drawn to him? “You’re 17 Billy.” She protests and Billy laughs bitterly. “I’m turning 18 tomorrow. I’m practically an adult already.” He says, and she knows she won’t change his mind- it’ll be dangerous for him to wander around at night alone. “Billy-” She starts but Billy cuts her off, “Alice.” Her words die in her throat as she shivers upon hearing her name roll off Billy’s tongue. Alice stands silent, her eyes fluttering as she looks at Billy and finally she enters her car. Billy slides into the passenger seat, “I’m hungry for ice cream. I have money.” He says and Alice feels reluctant and anxious as she hesitantly starts the engine of her car. She takes off towards the nearest ice cream shop, ignoring how her heart races in his presence. Alice is aware of Billy’s behavioral issues, and she’s not sure if he’s currently on his medication or not. 

Once they’d gotten ice cream and parked in an empty parking lot, Billy turned to Alice again. “Who did he cheat on you with?” He asks and Alice has no idea why he is so interested in her failed marriage, but it is kind of nice to talk to someone about it. “His secretary. Screwed her at work, came home to me.” Alice laughed bitterly, not even worrying about being professional anymore. Clearly it doesn’t matter to Billy whether or not she’s his teacher, he’s determined to break down her walls. “He sounds like a dick.” Billy says and the simplicity of his comment, despite how complicated their situation is makes Alice laugh softly. Alice spoons more ice cream into her mouth, “yeah he is a dick.” She agrees and Billy smiles next to her. Alice turns to look at Billy, admiring his side profile for a moment longer then she should. “Billy, why don’t you hang out with people your age? Instead you spent time with Miss Stevens, and now me.” She asks and Billy pauses, as though he’s searching for the right words. “Because you’re smart, beautiful, experienced. You’re a real person, not just some high school kid caught up in shit that doesn’t actually matter.” He says, his eyes locking on hers once again. Before Alice can even move Billy is leaning over the center console and pressing his lips to hers. Alice freezes for a moment before melting against him, her lips moving with his for a fraction of a second before her mind once again returns to clarity. 

Alice yanks away from him, panic pounding in her chest. “You’re 17, and I’m your teacher what the hell am I doing?” Alice panics, her hands fumbling to start the car. Billy tries to reach for her hand, but she won’t even touch him. “Alice it’s okay, I know what I want-” He starts but Alice vigorously shakes her head, her hands digging into her hair as she drops her head to the steering wheel. Billy reaches out for her once more, “Alice you didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted that.” He reassures her with a hand rubbing down her back but Alice snaps up and gently pushes his hand off her- despite the fact that he was actually calming her down. “My name is Miss Perribow, and you need to tell me where you live William.” She says sternly, her eyes focused straight ahead. Billy leans back in his seat, mumbling his address and she takes off. Alice’s hands are trembling as she drives quickly, and she hates how her lips are still tingling from the slight contact with his. This is wrong. How she’s feeling is wrong. “Alice, I know you wanted it. I felt you lean into me, and you can deny it all you want but I felt the spark. I know you felt it too.” Billy snaps once they arrive at his house, slamming the car door once he exits. 

Alice exhales a shaky breath once his front door is closed and she drives down to her house, which funnily enough isn’t far from Billy’s house. When the garage closes behind her, she drags herself into the house and sure enough Ben is sitting at the kitchen counter. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried baby,” He says, his voice soft with concern as he stands to approach her. Alice waves him off, feeling bile rising in her throat when he calls her baby. “Ben please don’t.” She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with her pointer and thumb as she kicks her shoes off. “Don’t call me that. You know we’re divorcing.” She says, her voice tired and he doesn’t push her. He watches her trudge up the stairs, but something about her seems off tonight. Like her mind is elsewhere. As Alice pulls herself into bed, she can’t get a certain pair of green eyes out of her head. She can’t forget the feeling of his lips on hers, and she knows the rest of this week is going to be more difficult than she’d anticipated. 

***taglist*** @irishbish​ @90sthemedsunsets​ @newletas​ @londonmademedoit​ @80sangelics​

[julesby10]

i am easy to find

A/N: Hello again! Here’s a very late ShinoMitsu Week Day 2 entry! Prompt was insecurities / healing, taking care of each other.

Slightly more angsty than last time but hey.

Yet again, took inspiration from one of @tanukified ‘s drawings, but the drawing itself couldn’t be farther from what I wrote oops

Rating: G

Tags: Fluff, almost canon compliant, hurt/comfrt, late at night, insecurities

Summary: Shinobu has a tendency to lose track of time, staying up late into the night to work on her notes. Mitsuri is recovering from an injury at the Butterfly Estate.Mitsuri tries to talk Shinobu out of her self-destructive tendencies, but maybe she isn't ready just yet.

AO3 | FF.NET

The hallways of the Butterfly Estate were shrouded in darkness and silence. It was the middle of the night and Mitsuri was being very careful not to make any noise, to avoid disturbing all the other residents who were, supposedly, still sleeping. She usually wasn’t much of a night owl, but she’d abruptly woken up with this weird sense of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach and felt like she needed to get out of the stifling infirmary.

Honestly, she expected to be the only one awake, but a very small part of her wasn’t surprised when she noticed a blade of light coming from under the door of Shinobu’s private study.

Mitsuri should have really gone back to bed, an early morning was waiting for her and she wasn’t even supposed to be up in the first place. Shinobu had very clearly instructed her to rest as much as possible until her shoulder was fully healed. She could feel the bandages brush against the burned skin, but she also knew why Shinobu was awake and she had no intention of leaving her alone.

She headed for the door and carefully slid it open. The room was mostly dark except for the corner where Shinobu’s desk was, her silhouette outlined by the light of a single lantern. She was still wearing her hashira uniform, her haori neatly placed on its stand on the side when Mitsuri was used to seeing it on her shoulders. She cared so much for it and for a reason.

Seeing her at her desk was far from an uncommon occurrence. Shinobu had a bad habit of overworking herself to the point of almost physically collapsing until someone, usually either Mitsuri or Kanao, forced her to rest, sleep, eat. It was a cycle that seemed very hard to actually break. Plus Shinobu was stubborn as much as she was hardworking.

Mitsuri closed the door behind her and took a few steps into the room, fully convinced Shinobu would hear her, as she always did, and scold her for being there. Nothing happened, though, which was odd in and of itself. She got closer to the point she was standing in Shinobu’s peripheral. Still nothing, Shinobu was silently scribbling away at her notes.

“Shinobu?”

Shinobu jumped up from her chair, her pen falling out of her grip and clattering on the ground. Mitsuri looked down with concern in her eyes. Two buttons of her uniform were undone and her sleeves were rolled up which, to anyone else, would have been small details, easy to miss, but to Mitsuri it was a sign that not everything was at it should’ve been. She could count on one hand the times she’d seen Shinobu with a less than perfect attire. And then there were the bags under her eyes and her chapped lips. It looked like she’d been biting on them.

Mitsuri knew first-hand what self-destructive looked like and, even when Shinobu pretended she had it all under control, sometimes it felt like she really didn’t.

When Shinobu registered that it was only Mitsuri next to her she relaxed.

“Heavens, Mitsuri, you scared me.”

She sighed and brought a hand to her temple with a grimace as if trying to keep a headache at bay. Then she lifted her eyes to Mitsuri again and spoke in a rough voice, lower than her usual pitch. Another sign that she was way too tired to be awake.

“What time is it anyway? And why are you up?”

Her notes were scattered all over her desk, countless sheets of paper filled with neat writing, formulas and dosages that would never make any sense to Mitsuri. In all honesty, few could really understand the complicated chemistry Shinobu treaded around so casually. She’d mastered the craft of making poisons to the point where it had become an art. The art of killing.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Mitsuri said softly, placing her hand on Shinobu’s shoulder, dragging her touch over the stiff muscles in her back. “How long have you been up?”

Shinobu seemed to loosen up her posture slightly.

“I don’t know. Yesterday?”

Mitsuri moved her hand to Shinobu’s cheek and Shinobu leaned into the contact, closing her eyes. The small flame of the lantern cast pretty shadows on her skin, but they only highlighted how pale she was.

“Shinobu, it’s almost dawn , you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Silence fell between them. They’d talked about this, how pushing herself to her limits was nothing but dangerous. What if Shinobu was suddenly called on an assignment? What if she was too tired to fight? What if she got injured? What if-

“You know I can’t stop,” Shinobu murmured, breaking the quiet. “This is... the only thing I can do.”

Everyone was aware that Shinobu wasn’t physically strong enough to cut a demon’s head off, but no one had ever held that against her. She was perfect with her poisons so there was no reason for critique. Except she didn’t seem keen on thinking the same.

They did share that trait, being too strict on themselves, but Mitsuri had learned to be forgiving thanks to Shinobu and her words, the way she just cared. She had shown Mitsuri that she had value, as a person and not just as a pretty doll to be given away in marriage, that she had no reason to be ashamed of her body or her eating or anything, really. Mitsuri had learned to not resent her strength, she wished Shinobu could learn to not resent her weaknesses either.

Taking another step, Mitsuri pulled Shinobu into a gentle hug. It was at a weird angle, but Shinobu didn’t seem to mind as she gripped the back of Mitsuri’s nightgown. Mitsuri’s heart ached.

“Oh Shinobu, you are so, so much more than the things you can do. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, how much you mean to me," Mitsuri whispered into her hair.

Shinobu never cried. Shinobu never let down her defenses, except when Mitsuri was there, because Mitsuri was so painfully honest it was hard to hide anything in front of her.

Shinobu didn’t cry, but Mitsuri felt her shake in her embrace, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. The nights that were quiet made it easy to fall apart.

After a few minutes, the room was silent again.

“C’mon,” Mitsuri said, tugging her up and into her arms. "Let's bring you to bed."

Shinobu sighed into the embrace, leaning all her weight into the contact, still careful to avoid Mitsuri’s injured side. If there was one thing Mitsuri was grateful for, it was the way Shinobu had learned, albeit begrudgingly, to lower her walls when it was just the two of them. She loathed feeling weak, yet she allowed Mitsuri to see her when she was not as strong.

“As your doctor, I think you should really go back to the infirmary,” Shinobu murmured in her chest. “But I’ll let it slide this time.”

“As if you’re in any place to say anything about taking care of myself,” Mitsuri retorted, a smile at the corners of her green eyes. The way the light reflected in them was mesmerizing, so much Shinobu could’ve spent the rest of the night like that if only sleep hadn’t been aggressively creeping up her spine. She felt at peace with Mitsuri around.

“Fine, but I’ll need to change your bandages first thing in the morning.”

Shinobu looked beautiful, even with the heavy weight of her worries on her shoulders, even when she was this tired and vulnerable.

“Can’t say no to my doctor, can I?” Mitsuri smiled, then bent down to catch Shinobu’s lips. The kiss was brief, but extremely sweet, as if Shinobu was being careful. Mitsuri didn't have any explanation for that, but, then again, she didn't have an explanation for why Shinobu tasted like flowers either.

When Mitsuri looked again, Shinobu was looking up at her with fondness, a pinch of something Mitsuri couldn't quite recognize in the corner of her amethyst eyes. Sadness maybe?

Shinobu swallowed and her irises seemed to clear. "You know I love you, right?"

Mitsuri smiled softly. "I know," and kissed her again, one hand carefully freeing her hair from the butterfly pin and then placing it on the desk. "And I love you too, so much."

Shinobu smiled then, and Mitsuri knew it was not out of courtesy. It was small, but it was there and it was genuine.

Mitsuri quickly took care of the lantern as Shinobu changed into something that wasn't her uniform. They would need to wake up soon, but it didn't matter, not now. As they lay under the covers, all tangled limbs and warmth, what mattered was that they were together.

As Mitsuri closed her eyes, she noticed the bad feeling that had woken her up was gone.

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the meet ugly prompts: #27? I feel like it has a lot of potential to be really funny for the OT4 :)

27: we have one night stands with roommates and sneak out of the house at the same time.

I interpreted “sneak out” kinda broadly. This is right on the line between SFW and NSFW: No sex, but it gets hot and heavy at the end.

Duck wakes up under moth-patterned covers, rubs his forehead as he grabs his phone from his pants on the floor. Shit, he didn’t mean to sleep this late, that could make things awkward if the guy from last night wanted him gone.

The bedroom door open and closes and Indrid, his hookup, enters in a yellow and pink bathrobe, holding a silver packet. 

“Good morning.”

“Mornin’. Uh, sorry, guess I was real tired.”

“We did do rather a lot last night.” Indrid grins, sitting down on the bed next to him, “here, my roommate is making breakfast sandwiches. I had him make you one. Do not take the pack as a sign you must leave, I just asked him to wrap it in case you were in a hurry.”

“Thanks. I should be gettin goin’, Winnie’s probably missin’ breakfast.” 

“One musn’t keep such a noble creature waiting.” Indrid hands him the sandwich. He’d shown the taller man photos of his cat last night both because he dotes on the flufflball and because it got Indrid to scoot closer to him. 

“Yeah, she can get in a mood....uh, you seen my underwear?”

Indrid scans the room, red glasses sitting on his forehead and giving Duck a perfect look at his brown eyes. 

“Ah, here we are.” He reaches under the small desk covered in art supplies, “my, those got some distance.”

“You were naked, I was in a hurry.” Duck mumbles, making Indrid bark a laugh as he brings him the rest of his clothes. 

When he steps out of the bedroom, he spots a tall man with a short, coppery beard standing at the kitchen stove. That must be the roommate, but Duck’s eye is drawn to the man exiting the other bedroom. His short black hair is mussed, there’s a pillowmark beneath his high cheekbone on one side, and his dress shirt is rumpled. 

The other man does not seem pleased to be seeing three people in front of him instead of one.

“Oh hey babe, you’re up.” The roommate turns, beaming, “made you breakfast, do you want some coffee? I can put it in a to-go up if, uh, if you need to leave.”

“Yes, thank you. I, um, I should be going.” 

The roommate smiles, quickly puts together a sandwich and coffee cup, complete with cream and sugar. The other man sips it and sighs, “you remembered.”

“‘How do you like your coffee’ isn’t just a cheesy line for me, babe. Gotta make sure you enjoy yourself start to finish.”

“Damn, that was smooth” Duck whispers as Indrid walks him to the door.

“Agreed. Though I rather enjoyed your one about pollination last night. By far the most creative response to these I’ve received” he points to the tattooed moth just visible on his shoulder. His wide grin goes shy, “I did really have a wonderful time, Duck.”

“Me too. Lemme, uh, lemme know if you wanna meet up again?”

Indrid nods, waves goodbye as Duck heads off the porch and down onto the sidewalk. He eats as he walks, decides Indrid has good taste in roommates because that one makes a mean breakfast sandwich. 

He gets to the bus stop, late September morning still crisp with the coming fall. Pulling out his phone, he discovers it’s dead. He did use it a lot last night, on their date, but only because Indrid was so clearly interested in what he had to show him. Why a guy who does tattoos for a living thinks a fella who’s a nerd for plants is interesting, Duck will never know. He’s just glad he does. 

Music out of reach, he sits and listens to the cardinals and kinglets calling in the trees. Someone sits down next to him, aluminum foil reflecting the sun off their hand and into his face. 

It’s the guy. The one from Indrid’s apartment. 

Should Duck tell him he has a big bruise on his neck? He probably knows, right? Then again, he was in a hurry?

“Hey, uh, don’t mean to be weird or nothin’, but you got a little uh-” He taps his neck and the man whacks his hand over the mark. 

“Shit” 

“Someone you’re worried’ll notice?”

“What exactly are you implying?” The man glares at him, blues eyes going from charmingly flustered to suspicious in an instant.

“Nothin, just seem real worried for somethin that happens to almost everyone some time or another.”

“I like keeping my private life private. I don’t want random people knowing what I like in bed.” He snaps

“Okay, okay, jeez man, sorry I mentioned it.”

They fall silent as Duck’s bus approaches, and both stand to board it. Just his luck, this is route to the capitol square with the massive farmer’s market, so he and the mister touchy end up squished in next to each other. 

Two stops in, the man murmurs, “ I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rude. I’m, uh, I don’t usually do things like, well, like hooking up with someone I meet on Grindr.”

Something about the way he says it, like he’s afraid he’ll get in trouble, brushes away Duck’s annoyance.

“No shame in havin a good time with someone. Wait, shit, was it a good time? Did somethin happen?”

“Oh no, nono,” the man hurriedly shakes his head, “it was just what I needed. Barclay is a great guy. I just feel like it was too easy, that getting that lucky on my first try is a sign something will go wrong.” He gives Duck a resigned smile, “in case you havent noticed, I’m an overthinker. Are you, damn it what’s his name, Indrid’s boyfriend?”

“Nah. He comes to draw in the arboretum where I work, we been kinda flirtin the last few weeks, and yesterday I finally said fuck it and asked if he wanted to get a drink later.”

“He’s certainly...distinct looking. In a good way, I mean.”

“Yeah, he is.” Duck smiles, thoughts drifting off to the memory kissing him gently as they finally fell asleep, his face captivating in the dim of the room, “probably see him again. Assumin’ he wants to see me, I guess.”

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

“I am supposed to wait until he arrives home to text him, correct?” Indrid pushes his phone as far away as possible to remove temptation.

“Maybe? I dunno man, all those rules about texting and shit are designed to sell books and bad youtube channels.”

“But I don’t want to come off as possessive or clingy.”

“Believe me bud, I know.” Barclay turns his phone around so Indrid can see the two lines sitting in the “draft” section, “I’ve been writing and re-writing this for five minutes because I want Joseph to know I’d for sure be down to see him again but there’s no pressure.” He sets Indrid’s refilled coffee down on the table. They trade a look, then burst out laughing. 

“Fuck, guess we both had a good time last night huh?”

“Very. Duck remains as wonderful as I hoped and I have not enjoyed sex that much since, hmmm, well, since the last time you and I were together.”

“That poor desk.”

“May it rest in peace.” Indrid sips from his mug, “Joseph is quite charming. You have excellent taste in men.”

“That a compliment to him or to you?” Barclay fluffs Indrid’s hair as he passes by him. 

“Mostly him.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, little moth.” A kiss on the head this time before Barclay heads to the shower. Indrid gets his sketchbook, turns on some mindless cooking show and settles on the couch.

Eventually Barclay calls from his room, “Indrid? Been about forty-five minutes, bet he’s home by now.” 

Indrid springs up, grinning, and grabs his phone. 

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

Duck was out downtown when the rain started, which is why he’s now hunkered down in the cafe by the capitol in hopes of waiting out the storm. He’s not the only one with this idea, and he’s made sure to make the chair across from him obviously empty in case someone needs a spot. 

“Hello again. Do you mind?” It’s the blued-eyed guy again, dressed for work in a suit and dress shoes. Duck hasn’t seen him since that first morning, in spite of going back to Indrid’s place multiple times over the last three weeks. 

“Go for it.” Duck scoots his coffee to the side so the man can set his mug down. He pulls out his phone, but can’t quite focus; he keeps wanting to look across the table. 

“How are things going with Indrid?”

“Real good--wait, how did you know he an I were still-”

“Barclay’s mentioned you once or twice. And your name is pretty memorable.”

‘It’s a nickname.” 

“That makes a bit more sense. Mines on the other end of things; there are a lot of Josephs in the world.” He sips his cinnamon-scented drink, sets it down again, “so, what do you do?”

“I’m a ranger over in the arboretum. You?”

“I work for an organization that checks up on businesses to be sure they’re meeting worker health and safety laws.”

Duck watches the rain out the windows, wondering if Joseph wants to keep talking or is just being polite. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Did Indrid tell you about him and Barclay?”

“Yeah, ‘bout a week ago. He said he was hopin’ he and I could get more serious, but that he wanted me to know the two of them had a sorta, uh, fuckbuddies thing goin’ so I could make an informed choice.”

“That’s more or less where Barclay and I are at. Um, how do you feel about it?”

“I’m okay with it. I ain’t interested in anyone else right now, but when I thought about it, Indrid havin a thing with Barclay ain’t stopped him from bein’ amazin’ to me and I’m fallin’ hard for him. I don’t feel like some kind of side piece or whatever. I just feel like I’m headin for somethin good with a guy who has a casual partner. Did it bug you?”

“No” Joseph shakes his head, “which confuses me. I, um, I have trouble releasing control in much of my life. I assumed it would freak me out to learn I wasn’t the only partner in someone’s life. But when Barclay told me it didn’t really bother me. He even offered to talk to Indrid about being only friends if that was what I needed. It’s been awhile since someone was so quick to think about my wants and feelings when dropping unexpected news on me. Plus, I’ve spent a little time with Indrid when we’ve been over there, and I like him. He clearly cares about Barclay, just like I do, and in some way that makes me happy. Is that weird?”

“Not really an expert on weird. But I think you’re overthinkin’ things again.”

A small laugh, “True. Help me think about something else. Tell me...tell me what your favorite part of work is.”

Duck’s surprised at the interest, but gets glimpse of pleading hope, og someone a little hungrier for connection than he’s letting on, and finds no desire to refuse.

“Prairie restoration, it’s fascinatin….”

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

Duck’s not surprised to see Joe’s name come up on screen; the two of them have been hanging out more, both as friends and on double dates with Barclay and Indrid. He’s learned that his friend is a stealth-nerd beneath his professional veneer, that he likes game nights as much as Duck does, and that he makes a certain sound when he cums (that last one he learned on accident; he was snuggled up with an under-the-weather Indrid in the living room when Joe and Barclay got home from a date).

Joe: Are you busy tonight?

Duck: Nope. 

Joe: Do you want to go to the “Adult Swim” at the children’s science museum? I got tickets a week ago, but Barclay got called in to work tonight.

Duck: Sure, sounds lie a good time. 

Joe: See you at the museum at 7?

Duck replies in the affirmative, goes to pick out something less grubby than his crossfit clothes to wear. Maybe the short-sleeve button up with the whales; Joe mentioned he like it. 

His phone buzzes.

Sugar: Busy tonight?

Duck: Yeah, going to the museum with Joe since Barclay has to work. 

He realizes how this might sound, begins rapidly typing several explanations or offers to not if Indrid doesn’t want him too, but his boyfriend beats him to it. 

Sugar: Oh yes, I remember him mentioning that. Good, I’m glad the tickets won’t go to waste. Have fun, my sweet, please take picture of any interesting bugs for me if there is an entomology section <3

Duck: Will do, sugar.

He signs with a kissy face, gets two black hearts and a kissy face back. 

The Adult Swim is wonderful; the museum is artfully lit, there’s snacks everywhere, and even a fancy cocktail included with admission. He and Joe clink glasses, wander through the exhibits, laughing and playing with the interactive exhibits. There are no bugs, but Duck takes pictures of the light exhibit, which feature interesting color patterns he might like for tattoo inspiration. 

They’ve just finished fucking around in the paleontology exhibit, and Joe is looking through a viewfinder that shows him how a triceratops saw the world. Duck sneaks up behind him, growls in his ear, “didn’t spot the t-rex in time.” 

“If you plan on eating me, we should at least head into the bathroom.” Joe winks as he turns, heading out onto the balcony to look out on the city. Duck knows that if he follows him out there right now, he’ll kiss him. 

“Be right out, gonna go grab some more of those mini-pies.”

Joe nods to show he heard him as he pushes open the door. Duck hopes he doesn’t see him take several deep breaths to get his imagination under control before he goes off in search of an edible distraction. 

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

“Doors open!”

“Oh, hey man, Indrid home yet?”

“No, it’s Thursday the 12th, so the studio is prepping like crazy for tomorrow.”

“Shit, that’s right.”

“Cookie? I just made them.”

“Thanks--holy shit that’s good.”

“Thanks, I’ve been trying to nail the chocolate chip and potatoe chip recipe.”

“Think you might--aw fuck, ‘Drid just texted, he’s gonna be another hour.”

“You can chill here if you want. Uh, I’ve got Super-Smash Bros, if you wanna play.”

“Aw hell yeah.”

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

“Good morning, Joseph.”

“Gahoh, hi Indrid. I’ll be out of your way in a few minutes.”

“There’s no rush. I certainly don’t mind your company. I believe there are left over cinnamon rolls in the fridge, if you would like.”

Joseph gathers a coffee cup and a roll on a plate, sits down on the couch, and finds his pocket buzzing. 

“Here” Indrid takes the plate.

“Thank you. Looks like it’s my sister...oh, she got a new dog, do you want..” He stops as Indrid holds out a piece of the cinnamon roll on the fork. Hesitates, then opens his mouth and lets Indrid feed him. He starts showing him pictures as he does, Indrid commenting and laughing and, every so often, murmuring, “good boy” when he takes a bite.

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

“Ohfuck, shit, sorry!” Duck covers his eyes as Indrid quickly closes the front door. 

“Nono, fuck, sorry, that’s on us, thought you guys weren’t home until later.” Barclay’s apology is underscored by the sound of a zipper closing. 

“It’s quite alright, no harm done, Joseph you look very nice like that, carry on.” Indrid pulls Duck into his room, both of them snickering and blushing as Duck pushes him down onto the bed.

“My my, someone’s wound up.”

“Makes two of us.” Duck grinds down on him, Indrid gasping and grinning as he arches his back. 

“Indeed. Now get that handsome face down here. I have some things I wish to do to it.”

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

The giant stop motion monster continues rampaging on the screen as Duck loops his arm over Indrid’s shoulder. The first snowstorm of the year has come early, so they opted to switch their double date to a monster movie double feature (curated by Joe) in the apartment. Beneath their shared blanket, Indrid’s hand strokes his belly, skating down to the front of his jeans in teasing bursts. 

On the other side of the couch, Barclay has started kissing Joe’s cheek, the blue-eyed man sighing and turning to kiss him back. 

This is not a new situation for them. The last few weeks they’ve gotten more comfortable cuddling and making out in the same space as each other. Duck’s not complaining; hearing both Indrid and Joe gasping and sighing near him makes him hotter than a July afternoon. 

Indrid bumps his cheek with his nose, and Duck turns for a kiss. He gets one, but he also gets a firmer stroke down his cock, making him moan. Indrid smirks into the kiss, does it again, then a third time, Duck gripping the front of his white tank top with a groan. 

“Maybe we, uh, should dip out on the movie.” He murmurs. 

“We can” Indrid purrs, kissing him again, “but Joseph seems to be enjoying the show.”

Duck whips his head around; Joe is looking at the two of them as he leans against Barclay’s chest, between his legs, expression moving from desire to surprise to hope over and over again. Barclay, unbothered, continues kissing his neck and murmuring in his ear, the blush on his cheeks rising each time the larger man does so. 

“Or perhaps he’s envious?” Indrid cocks his head, “would you like your hand to be here instead of mine, Joseph?”

Joe’s normal eloquence is nowhere to be found, his eyes flicking between the three other men so quickly Duck worries he’ll sprain something. 

“I asked you a question, pet.” Indrid sharpens his tone on the last word and Joe whimpers. Duck has zero interest in Indrid ever calling him that name; but hearing it in his lilting, gently demanding tone directed at Joe sends desire zinging through him. 

“C’mon, babe, be a good boy and answer.” Barclay nips his boyfriend’s ear.

“Yes. Or, or, more accurately, I’d trade places with either of you. If that’s, would it be, do either of you?” He looks back at Barclay, who smiles tenderly and runs a thumb up his cheek. 

“Okay with me if it’s okay with them.”

“Do you want it as well, my sweet?” Indrid tilts up his glasses so he can look Duck in the eye. The affection in those brown eyes makes the T.V, the moon, the stars look dim. 

“Hell yeah.”

Indrid crooks his finger and Joe clambers the short distance on the couch to kneel by Duck.

“How shouldMMmmmmm!”

Duck gets a whiff of aftershave as Indrid yanks Joe forward by his shirt, kissing him and squishing Duck between them. The angle is awful but he doesn’t give fuck, buries his face into Joe’s neck, kissing the point where he feels his pulse moving like mothwings, mouthing and nipping at the skin as he slides one hand up the front of his shirt and the other down the back of his pants. When he squeezes his ass Joe squeaks and Indrid breaks the kissing, laughing. 

“I didn’t know you had such noises in you, pet. It’s quite endearing.”

“Indrid, Duck, please, I want, I want to, oh fuck it.” He pulls back just enough to not jab his knee into Duck’s belly as he falls on him, kissing him so hard and so long Duck’s chest tightens and his vision narrows. The taller pulls away long enough to breathily moan his name before feasting on his mouth again. 

“Yes, he does elicit such feelings, oh, hello.” Indrid giggles, and Duck can just see that Barclay is now on the floor, kneeling before the pale-haired man, kissing the skin exposed by his shirt before rubbing his beard across it, making Indrid laugh harder. 

“Can’t let you have all the fun, little moth.” Barclay rumbles

“I can think of many things you can let me haveAH, oh, oh goodness, I forgot how much you like to bite.” 

Barclay growls, reminding Duck of something important. He pushes Joe backwards, clambering atop him and pulling his shirt up as he does, stuffing the hem of it between those perfect lips. 

“Christ lookit you” he runs his palms up Joe’s body, the man arching and writhing beneath him, “you look like a goddamn fuckin centerfold, you’re so fuckin perfect.”

Joe’s moan is loud even through the shirt, and much needier than before. He grins, crawling onto him , “guess I ain’t the only one who likes praise in bed.”

Joe shakes his head, whining eagerly through the make-shift gag. Duck growls again, attacks his chest with bites, leaving an especially hard one when Indrid grabs his ass without warning. 

While Joe clearly enjoys the increase in pain, his responding thrash is sudden enough to send him and Duck rolling off the couch in a jumble. Someone’s foot catches Barclay in the shoulder, knocking him back onto the rug. 

“Whoops.” Duck says to the ceiling, laugh bubbling up from his chest and bounding about the room. 

“Sorry.” Joe says to the floor, chuckling as he sits up.

“That was very graceful.” Indrid teases from his spot on the couch, only for Barclay to rear up and pull him down on top of him, the thinner man squawking indignantly. As they all disentangle and sit up, Duck looks around their little circle of flushed skin and mussed clothes.

“So, uh, that happened.”

“Indeed.” Indrid scoots next to him, resting his head on his shoulder. 

“Is everyone, like, okay that it did? I mean, we seemed okay and said yes and shit but is okay in like a bigger sense?” Barclay holds out his hand and Joe takes it. 

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Yep.”

“Do we, uh, wanna talk about what this is gonna look like?”

They all nod, and spend the next two hours hashing out the details of their newly forming polycule. Duck and Barclay agree they’d rather be metamours, everyone else will be partners, and that everyone should probably get some sleep before diving into the do’s and don’ts of what they each want from sex. 

Barclay and Indrid build a makeshift bed on the floor by the T.V, Joe and Duck on the inside with Barclay and Indrid on the outside. 

Duck drifts off to sleep with his head on Joe’s chest and Indrid’s arms around him. He knows they still have things to work out, that there will be hiccups. But for now, he’s happy to lay here, safe and loved, with his boyfriends. 

[undercoveravenger]

The Boy with the Pac-Man Tattoo

Original request: "Could i request a micheal x reader where Michael thinks the reader hates him because the reader is always glaring or staring at him but in actuality the readers just looking at him so he can draw Michael. One Day by accident the reader submits the drawing and it gets shown to a whole school and the reader gets embarrassed and runs off then Michael goes to comfort him."

A/N: To the anon who requested this: you are my absolute favorite! I love this boy so much, you have no idea. I don't care if my blog ever says requests are closed, I will always accept writing for him ❤

__________________________________________________________

"He's doing it again," Michael groused, keeping his head down as he pretended to work on an English assignment. 

"I'm sure it's not that bad-" His best friend started as he perked up beside Michael, looking around less-than-subtly to catch the supposed culprit. "Yeah, no, he's definitely staring at you like he wants you dead," Jeremy amended unhelpfully.

Michael groaned quietly, glancing toward the right side of the room again to see if he was still being watched.

Yep, same (h/c) hair, same red leather-bound notebook, same (e/c) eyes narrowed at him intensely. Their eye contact broke when you looked back down at your notebook, scribbling away at it in the same way you always did.

"What do you think he's writing?" Jeremy's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

Michael shrugged, beginning to pack up his things as the bell rang. "Probably different ways to murder me and make it look like an accident," he replied, waiting for his friend before heading for the door. "You and I both know he's hated me since we met."

The brunet winced as he collided with someone just before he could leave the room, the force knocking both he and his attacker to the ground. "Shit, I'm so sorry man-" he started, eyes widening when they met those belonging to the boy who'd been glaring at him all year.

"Watch where you're going," you growled, leaning forward to snatch up your journal from where it'd fallen before scrambling to your feet and disappearing into the crowded hallway.

Michael sighed, picking up his spilled things (and his what was left of his dignity) and standing back up. "Told you he hated me," he said simply, looking back at Jeremy.

Jeremy shrugged, shifting his backpack straps higher up on his shoulders. "Yeah, can't argue with that, I guess."

He shook it off, leading the way toward his beat-up PT Cruiser, knowing that both of them really needed a weekend of video games to take their minds off of the hell that is Middle Borough High School.

---------

"I really don't see why you won't just tell him you like him," Jake called, not even looking up from his phone as he spoke. He didn't really need to, after all, the three of you had had this conversation a million times.

"Yeah!" Rich chimed in from his place next to Jake, "It's not like he'd reject you! I'm, like, ninety-nine percent sure that Mell's into the artsy type anyway."

You rolled your eyes, putting the last couple of touches on your latest drawing. "Not everyone has perfect track records of not getting rejected like you two do."

Rich rolled his eyes, setting aside the xBox controller and making his way over to you. "You see this?" He asked, pointing at your drawing, "For one thing, this is fucking amazing, for two, it's kind of pathetic."

"Hey!" you protested weakly.

Rich rolled his eyes, "You know I'm right; you can't talk to the guy, so instead you draw pictures of him."

You ducked your head, unable to argue.

"You do realize that if you actually talked to him-" Jake started, sitting up and twisting around to face you. 

"You guys could be fucking by now!" Rich interrupted, waving his hands in the air over dramatically.

Jake blinked, staring at Rich for a second like he couldn't believe he'd just said that aloud. "I was going to say that maybe you could date him instead of just staring at him from a distance."

"Whatever," was all you could muster, visibly perking up when you heard the doorbell ring downstairs. "Would you look at that, an excuse to stop talking about this," you said sarcastically, turning on your heel and making your escape.

Rich waited until he heard your footsteps on the main floor before launching himself at your desk. He was methodical, pawing through drawers until he found what he was looking for.

"Rich, bro-" Jake was understandably confused, "What the hell are you doing?"

Rich turned around, your red leather-bound sketchbook in his hands. "I thought it was about time that they get their asses in gear."

"You know he doesn't like people touching that," Jake's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "What are you planning?"

The shorter male grinned, flipping through the book until he found one of his favorite portraits that you'd done of Michael before carefully extracting it from the binding. "Figured my buddy's art was good enough to be on display at the art show, don't you think?"

---------

The Middle Borough High School Art Show was one of the highlights of the school year for many students. It wasn't necessarily that they liked the art, but it was hard to dislike an event that resulted in classes getting postponed. Most of your peers ended up trying to sneak away with someone to hook up or sneak in a quick smoke behind the bleachers. 

Normally you enjoyed the art show just as much as the next guy, but this year you were a little preoccupied. First a few of your drawings had gone missing, then Rich and Jake started acting strange. Hell, one of them had latched onto each of your arms and were steering you down the school hallways purposefully.

They finally began to slow down when the three of you approached the end of the hall near the auditorium where a large crowd was gathered around one of the art pieces. Your heart stopped in your chest when Rich shouldered his way closer to the front, dragging you with him, until you could actually see what everyone was looking at.

Michael couldn't believe his eyes. Sure, the artwork had been blown up to about ten times the original size, thus losing some of the details, but it was all there. The shading of the leaves and placement of the tree branches perfectly matched those of his memories, the sunny sky paling in comparison to the glow surrounding the focus point of the piece.

The massive drawing focused on a young man as he stood under a looming maple tree. He faced away from the viewer with one hand holding a phone, head tipped down toward it, and the other arm hanging casually at his side. Even he was turned the other way, he was still drawn in such a familiar way that it felt like it didn't matter if you couldn't see his face.

Somehow, the artist had managed to make him blend into his surroundings and stand apart from them at the same time. Worn red fabric came across looking well-loved and warm and individual pen strokes made the polar bear on the back of his hoodie look soft enough to touch, while the mountain range at the base still looked jagged and harsh.

His hair looked wind-tousled and his headphones looked like they actually held weight where they were tucked over his ears. His skin was exactly the shade it was in real life, down to the way the light brushed over the Pac-Man tattoo on the subject's forearm, perfectly mirroring the one on Michael's own.

Really, it was undeniable that the drawing had been based off of Michael. Hell, if he'd had a photo of him standing and waiting for Jeremy after school, he was half-convinced that the artwork would be more accurate.

Michael was further surprised when his gaze drifted lower and he noticed the artist's name printed on a sheet of paper hung below the art. He twisted, turning to look at the faces around him. He paused as his eyes locked onto you. 

You looked… sick. It seemed like the very existence of your artwork on that wall made you feel like you wanted to vanish, and the expression only worsened as your gaze locked with his.

As Michael watched, you tore yourself away from Rich and Jake, ducking your head and curling in on yourself as you turned tail and disappeared into the crowd.

Michael didn't even have to stop and think before he took off after you.

---------

When Michael finally found you, it was under the same tree as the one in your drawing and he was struck by the irony for a moment. Eventually he forced himself to move, settling himself on the ground beside you as he tried to think of what to say.

It was you that finally broke the oppressive silence. "I'm sorry," you said.

It was then that Michael noticed how small you seemed in that moment. As one of the three most popular guys in school, you'd always seemed to emanate confidence- you were untouchable. But now, as you sat there with your head down and your shoulders hunched, he was struck by the fact that you were just as human as anyone else. "Why would you need to be sorry?"

"Isn't it a little, I dunno, creepy?" You laughed humorlessly, "For me to have been drawing you without your permission?"

Michael thought for a minute, trying to come up with an appropriate reply. He ended up shrugging, "I mean, it's better than thinking you were out to murder me."

That got a real laugh out of you and Michael couldn't help but grin in response. "No," you said once your laughter had subsided, "That's not something you'll need to worry about." Your grin faded a little, "Neither is the drawing thing," you amended, picking up the little red notebook that Michael had always seen you with and turning it over in your hands for a moment before holding it out to him. "I- uh, I won't draw you anymore and I figured that since you're in them, they technically belong to you."

Michael took the book from you slowly, fingers lingering on the worn leather and thumb brushing absently at a tear along the side. He lifted the cover slowly, gaze taking reverently at every drawing he uncovered, each one seeming to rewrite a little of what he'd thought he known about you. Each drawing unearthed something you treasured, whether it was a portrait of him (he couldn't help but blush at the sheer number of them, let alone the quality) or a quick sketch of a bird you'd seen and thought pretty.

He closed it after a few moments, nudging it against your thigh to get your attention. You turned back to him with a raised brow, clearly confused. "You aren't keeping it?"

"No," Michael replied, shaking his head slowly. "Who am I to keep an artist from his sketchbook, after all."

You still looked puzzled, "Really? I thought you'd be a lot less cool about this."

Michael shrugged, looking away with a flush on his cheeks, "It's kind of, I don't know, flattering, I guess? That you thought I was worth drawing."

"Worth drawing?" You mocked with a roll of your eyes, "If you were just worth drawing I would have done one and left it at that." You lifted the book pointedly, "I think you and I both know I've done a lot more than that."

The brunet chuckled, biting his lip as he tried to think of what to say. "You can, um, you can still draw me, if you want?"

You twisted around to look at him again, clearly shocked.

Michael raced to explain himself before you could say anything. "I mean, with me knowing about it this time, of course, but I thought- y'know, they're really good and with some better posing and me knowing not to move or make weird faces or something, then they could be really great and-" he cut himself off, face burning, and his hand twitched up to mess with the cord of his headphones the way he always did when he was nervous. 

You couldn't help but laugh, grinning fondly at the action you'd noticed in your time admiring him. You brought a hand up to catch Michael's, gently tugging his hand free of the cord and setting it back on his leg with a light squeeze. "You're in it for shared custody then, huh?" you teased, tapping a finger against the cover of the sketchbook. "You realize that means you'll have to deal with me more often, right?"

Michael's blush darkened and you ducked your head, "I… wouldn't be opposed?"

"Shared custody it is then." You grinned, laying back in the grass to look up at the clouds, content with enjoying the way your rocky day had turned out. Maybe this wasn't you asking him out, but it was a start.

Maybe by this time next year you'd be able to talk him into doing some nude modeling...

[peakyblinderswhore]

Tommy with a female lover who draws? I'm currently working on a sketch and it's been bugging me (the shape of the person) so if it could involve his s/o being frustrated at her artwork and him comforting her that would be lovely- Also I love your writing!!

A/N: Hey anon, I’m super sorry for the massive delay. I hope you figured out your drawing. I also hope you’re safe.

W/C: 1.3k

Running her hand along with the paper, she grips the pencil as she creates a smooth, curved line. Amelia had already sketched out the basic measurements for the body she was going to draw and was going over some of the lines that she was confident within a harder pencil. Some of the measurements had been slightly off but she knew that she’d be able to fix them.

Switching to a softer pencil, she outlines where she wants the body to start and end where she wants curves and definition to parts of the body. The limbs were slowly coming to life and the face was lightly sketched but every time she came back to the overall shape, something was wrong.

“Oh for goodness sake!” Amelia exclaims.

Fighting the urge to throw the pencil across the room, she puts it back down on her drafting table.

Amelia wasn’t rich, merely had friends in high places… kind of.

Tommy had gotten it for Amelia. She had shown a desire towards owning one and how much easier it would make her drawing for clients. To Amelia’s surprise, he had been paying attention that day and he had gifted it to her for her birthday.

It was one of the first signs made obvious to Amelia of his desire for her. He hadn’t realised it much either but when he gave it to her, hands over her eyes as he led her into her own living room, and he saw her face, he realised that this may be a confession of his adoration towards her.

“Amelia, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, Tommy,” she replies as he walks into the room, “what isn’t? This request is driving me up my fuckin’ walls.”

Thomas chuckles lightly at her frustration, “It’ll become something gorgeous soon, they always do.”

Amelia sighs, “I know,” she mutters, “but no one ever gives me a second look-in after they ask if I can draw this and that or those — or whatever other rubbish they ask for!”

Pushing herself off of her chair she stands with her hand in her hair, bunching it until it knots out of frustration as she stares at the floor, contemplating all the moments in her life leading up until this current one.

“Hey,” Tommy says, walking over, Amelia notices the glint of his pocket watch — a new pocket watch.

“When did you get that?” she asks, interested in where he got the money for it.

Tommy smiles, a rare sight for most, “Well, since Kimber is no more, we are bringing in his share of the money, for us.”

“Is that how you…” she trailed off, motioning her head towards the drafting desk.

“Mhm.”

Amelia sighs, her raven-like hair falling loosely past her shoulders, “I know he was a bastard of a man but if I had taken Kimber up on one of his ghastly drawing suggestions I probably would’ve hit it big.”

She lifts her head to look at Tommy’s face, he was studying you as you did him, Amelia smiled a crooked smile, feeling weak from her current hiccup in her art.

Tommy holds an arm out, “C'mere.”

Amelia trudges towards him, “hm?”

She rests her head on his chest, breathing in his cologne and calming her nerves, focusing on only him to steady herself.

“Amelia, you are the most talented person I have ever met and probably ever will meet in this dark and illegal world I’ve created for myself but you know what? You’ve always been the light at the end of the tunnel for me; whatever you do, I will support.”

His chin rests on your head, he wasn’t tall but she wasn’t either, and rests a hand on the back of her head, holding her close to his heart.

“Would you like me to get you something?” he asks, gesturing to her drafting table, “More paper, pencils, graphite?”

“No, Tommy, you’ve done far too much for me over the years, I only wish I could repay you, buy you something nice every once in a while; spend a day with you when I’m not drawing or in the studio and you’re not working, you know?”

Tommy reaches into his trouser pocket and pulls out a few pound notes rolled up, “you can borrow some money if you like, find something for yourself along the way,” he offers.

“No, I just want to do it out of my own pocket, it makes me feel accomplished, even if just a little.”

He nods and puts the money away.

Amelia wraps her arms around his torso and takes a deep breath, “you’re always good to me, Tommy, don’t ever stop; you make me feel so special.”

Tommy plays with her hair and mumbles, “What did I ever do to deserve you, eh?”

Amelia smiles and nestles her head into the crook of his neck and breathes in his cologne, calming herself down.

Tommy glances down at Amelia’s angelic features and thinks to himself, you know, sometimes, it’s the little details that take up the most room in your heart.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says.

Amelia lifts her head to glance at Tommy and blushes and when his face doesn’t waver she giggles at him, “Thank you… Thomas.”

He brings his hand up to her face; she closes her eyes and leans into his hand as he rests the palm of his hand on her cheek. He caresses her face with his thumb and drinks in her beauty.

Her long lashes that framed her eyes and the natural glow that she radiated always made him want to kiss her eyelids softly and so he did.

When he had finished, Amelia opened her eyes and gazed up at Tommy. She stood on her tiptoes, held his face in her hands and kissed his lips lightly, fluttering her eyes closed.

Against his lips, she whispers, “You are every hope I had in human form.”

“You are much better than any wish I could have ever made,” he says and kisses her back. As he pulls away he reminds her of her drawing by nodding towards it.

“Honey and lemon tea?” she asks, he merely nods and places the kettle over the stove.

Amelia sits down in front of her drawing, closes her eyes and thinks about everything that was annoying her in the first place before scrunching her nose up and mentally filing these things into a box at the back of her mind. She takes a deep breath and glances down at her drawing and clears her space around her.

Hearing the kettle steaming in the kitchen, she patiently waits for Tommy to pour some honey and squeeze a little lemon into her tea before tackling her drawing again.

Amelia smiles, now calm and with the hot cup of tea that Tommy had poured for her and was focusing on her own impossible task at hand.

Keeping her cool, she draws lines and shapes and body forms until she thinks she has found the one she likes the most. Smiling at her own personal achievement she begins to add tone and shading to her drawing, outlining features she liked the most and managed to create a drawing she was proud of.

“I told you that you know how to fix it all,” Tommy says, walking over and wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“Only because of you, my love, only because of you…” she mumbles as she leans back into Tommy’s embrace, finally content.

[pluto-fics]

Inspiration is Motivation － Prologue

Fanfiction | Artist!Taehyung x SingleMom!Reader

Genres: Fluff, Romance, Humor, Smut

Rating: G (for this chapter)

Word Count: 2.385 words

Chapter Warnings: none

Your brows furrow at the earlier statement of your best friend, Hanna.

"Believe me, it'll help you to relax for a few hours and I'll take good care of Ty."

You have no doubt about the latter. Hanna might be that stereotype single woman who likes to go out for a couple drinks every so often, but she is a reliable caretaker and one ridiculously good cook. Based on this, she was an absolute blessing the last two times she watched over your son. However, you still feel a little uneasy about her suggestion.

"I don't know... Tyler is kind of stubborn and moody lately, how could I leave you both alone for nearly four full hours? Not to mention that I can paint at home if I want to, I don't need to go to some weird art course..." you try to defy yourself. The idea of entrusting Hanna with your five year old son for so long worries you. Just the thought of it causes a bad feeling to spread throughout your body. Hanna just rolls her eyes, however. "Listen. I already signed you up for that course this Saturday. It's supposed to start at eleven, won't go past three in the afternoon and you can calmly come back home to Tyler and me having a great time without setting your apartment on fire."

You can't fight down the amused giggle at her statement before you sigh. "Hanna, I really don't-..." you begin, only to be interrupted mid-sentence. "Yes, you do want to try it. I'll be here at 10 this Saturday and you can either go to that course or stay here with us and bathe in my judgment."

And here you are, two days later and sat on a chair in front of an empty canvas and an A3 sized sketchpad, surrounded by strangers who, just like you, are waiting for the course to begin.

You take this time to inspect the equipment provided to you. Brushes and pencils of rather good quality, however accompanied by a cheap, fizzy eraser. The watercolor paint seems decent enough. But the big bottles of acrylics and oils on the desk in the middle of the room, accessible for everyone in it, clearly are not top-notch quality. That of course does not mean it is bad per se, you just might have expected something fancier in the art department of the local Community College.

Your train of thoughts comes to an abrupt stop when you hear someone opening the big wooden door and entering the room, a deep but smooth voice wishing you and your fellow course participants a good morning. The slender figure who just stepped into the room makes your eyes grow wide the second you lay your eyes on him. He is tall, with model like features, facial as well as bodywise. His fashion sense clearly is a little extravagant, for he wears a way too oversized dress shirt with a pair of what almost seemed to be pajama pants of some sort, and a matching beige colored beret topping his head. The big round glasses topping his nose make you curious. Does he need them to see? Or were they simply added to this retro outfit because they fit the vibe?

"I'm glad you all made it here on time, unlike myself" he then speaks while rummaging in the bag he has just placed on top of the desk in the front of the room. You hear quiet giggles erupting from two slightly older women in the back. His lips curve into a handsome smile, not even needing to show the whites of his teeth to make you doubt the existence of a man with such impressive visuals. Yet, you feel kind of stupid for the way you swoon over his looks like a teenager, despite being a grown woman with a child waiting for her to return home.

The young man claps his hands together as if to catch everyone's attention, even though he already possesses the full concentration of everyone in this room. "Now, I'd like to start by introducing myself, if that's alright by you."

He swiftly turns to the chalkboard behind himself and writes down what you assume to be his name.

"My name is Kim Taehyung and I teach traditional art at the local University. But as you can tell, I'm also hosting art courses like this one once a week, while also working as a hobby freelance artist. So I guess you could say that art is my passion."

There it is again. That charming smile of his as he tends to the attentive group of people in front of him. "But enough of me, I think we're all here to improve our skills, so how about we start with some easy warm ups to get creative first?" You notice everyone responding by nodding or already flipping over the cover of the massive sketchpad in front of them to reveal a blank page. Imitating your 'classmates', you flip open your sketchpad and face Mr. Kim again.

He begins by instructing everyone to warm up their wrists by drawing circular shapes of several sizes and shading them to your heart's content to make yourself familiar with the medium you're using. Another hint of his is to try the different art materials provided to each one of the participants and see which one you'd preferably work with today.

A couple minutes later, you can tell Mr. Kim valued his participants' individuality. Only giving a rough theme for the artwork you are supposed to create, he left everything else to you. "Warm Autumn" was the theme he came up with and your mind immediately drifts off into what you would like to call your ‘creative mode’. Images of brown leaves, soft breezes of air and fluffy fabrics of knitwear come to your mind. Thus, you begin by settling on a color palette in warm brown, red and yellow tones and soon start by sketching an idea.

Mr. Kim does no longer talk to the whole course. Instead, he begins to slowly walk around the classroom and take a look at everyone's approaches on the topic. Usually, you'd get so engulfed in your works that you would blend out most of your surroundings. However, Mr. Kim's presence makes it hard for you to fully concentrate on the sketch before you like you usually would. You don't even need to look up to know where Mr. Kim currently stood at, while he gradually comes closer to where you are seated at.

The sound of his steps approaching you slowly sends shivers down your spine, just like the feeling of him standing right beside you, wordlessly examining your sketch. You can't keep from glancing up at his face as his gaze remains locked on the paper before you, an approving look surfacing on his face. He then glances at your face, his eyes meeting yours immediately as he leans down a bit to speak to you with a quieter, low voice. "Nice choice of motives. Do you have an idea for the final composition already?"

You feel your cheeks heating up as you mumble out a shy "Um, kind of", unsure of how to feel about the genuine interest Mr. Kim shows. It's been a while since someone other than your son Tyler had commented on one of your works. The young artist next to you smiles. "You're a fast one, huh? I like that. But let me know if you need anything, alright?" His voice is just as unique as his appearance. And the more you get to hear of it, the more you come to like the sound of it. Nodding your head with a smile, you thank him before he smiles back and moves on to the next participant of his course.

By the end of the course, you have created a piece you are rather proud of - the motives assembled in a harmonic way, adding to the calm and welcoming atmosphere of your painting. Throughout the creation process of it, Mr. Kim came around every once in a while to praise you for your ideas or help you improve parts of your piece in ways you wouldn't have been able to think of yourself. You have actually truly enjoyed today. At the end of the course, Mr. Kim gives his final speech in which he thanks everyone for participating and gives some last advice before sending everyone home with their final artworks. You had just put the materials you had used back to where you got them from, ready to pack your things to leave, when Mr. Kim approaches you with a gentle smile. "(Y/N), am I right?" He addresses you, your heart seemingly skipping a beat at the way your name sounds when spoken with his smooth voice. "Yes, that would be me" you say, turning to him with faked confidence. In reality, something about this Kim Taehyung makes you feel like a shy teenager again. He smiles apologetically as he asks "Do you perhaps have a minute or two to talk? If you're not in a hurry to be somewhere, that is."

To be honest, you want to apologize and leave right now. Tyler is waiting for you at home, after all. And so is Hanna. But your head nods on it’s own accord before your mind could stop it from doing so. What are a few minutes anyway, right?

"Great! Actually, I was curious to see how your piece turned out. To be honest, I didn't really get to look at it yet," he then says as he regards your artwork which is still on the easel at your seat. Examining it interestedly, he chuckles. "You're really talented, you know? This can't have been the first time you’ve painted something like this."

Your lips curve upwards in a bashful smile. "Ah, well actually... It's kind of my hobby. It's just that I haven't had much time to pursue it recently..." you answer. A soft humming noise resonates in his throat before he faces you again. "Are you interested in modern art too?" He suddenly asks, catching you a little off guard. "Modern art?" You repeat, to which he nods. "There's an art exhibition at the City Hall next friday. The main focus of it lays on contemporary artists and most works shown there are paintings and sculptures, rather than installations or anything like that. But I have a feeling that you might like it." You aren't sure where he was aiming at with this information, but you appreciate it. Mirroring his friendly smile, you say "It does sound interesting, yes. But I'm really busy lately, I'm not sure if I'll be able to go."

Mr. Kim seems understanding as he nods. "Well, if you do make it, maybe we'll meet there." He responds, making you nod slowly as you mumble a barely audible "That'd be nice." You want to ask him if there'd also be works of his exhibited there, remembering that he introduced himself as a freelance artist earlier, but the sound of your phone vibrating in your pocket interrupts you. "Ah, sorry" you then say, quickly looking at your phone to see messages of Hanna coming in. It’s nothing serious, just questions about whether Tyler still takes naps after lunch or not, since he apparently got a little energy boost after having eaten well. But it is urgent enough for you to decide that it is time to go home now. "I better get going now. Today was really nice, thank you. And thank you for telling me about the art exhibition, too. As you said, maybe we'll meet there." You speak as you collect your belongings and art piece, Mr. Kim nodding calmly and smiling as he wishes you a nice day before you leave.

On your way home, you keep thinking about today's events. About the fun you have had while painting for the first time in months and the useful help Mr. Kim had offered. The giddy feeling you got whenever he would lean in to talk to you quietly with that soothing deep voice of his. You have really had a great day, even if you still feel a little awkward for being so affected by the male's looks and kind words. But who could blame you, if said artist looks like a piece of art himself?

Arriving at home, the first thing you notice right after opening the front door is the welcoming scent of warm pancakes coming from your kitchen. Peeking past the doorframe, you smile at the sight of your best friend and son pouring dough into a frying pan together, your little son giggling in excitement.

"Hello you two" you greet the diligently working duo and laugh when your son immediately comes running to you to hug your legs and welcome you back excitedly. Crouching down to meet his eyes, you then give him a kiss on his cheek and smile at him. "Did you have a nice time with Hanna?" You ask, your smile widening when Tyler nods eagerly. "Yes! Hanna knows so many fun games for two! We played hide and seek too!” You give Hanna a glance, relieved to see her smiling just as happily as your little son. For some reason you’re always worried that he might be a little too challenging for her sometimes, but seeing her reaction to his happy storytelling, you have no doubt that she adores your son almost as much as you do.

Getting up to greet your friend properly with a short hug, you then look at the pile of pancakes on the kitchen counter. "Someone seems to be hungry, huh" you comment, Hanna rolling her eyes as she speaks, avoiding the topic. "How was the art course?"

You can feel Tyler leaning against your legs, silently requesting your attention. Picking him up to hold him close, you then begin to tell Hanna about the building, the people there, the fun you had when painting something from start to finish for the first time in ages, and in the end you thank her for having made this possible. Yet, a very specific detail you keep to yourself for now － Kim Taehyung.

Thank you for reading the Prologue to my new series “Inspiration is Motivation”!

If you can’t wait to read the next chapter, check out my Series Masterlist and follow @pluto-fics to be notified of new updates.

Stay safe and see you soon! 💜

- Pluto 🌑

[smuttyaf]

Heaven Sent

Call Me By Your Name; Inspired. 

You never want to let him go, and you never wanted the taste of him to leave your buds. You wanted him to stay and to live with you and the sun and by the banks of the sea where his loose curls will say hello to you and you will say hi back with your fingers running through his vanilla scented hair as you placed a kiss amongst his mop of hair. You wanted him forever.

Words: 5.1k

Request: No

Rating: R 

(author note: this writing piece is inspired but the book and film, Call Me By Your Name. I absolutely fell in love with this art work and scripture. It really inspired me to write this piece and also to get back into writing. I hope everyone enjoys my writing, this is definitely one of my personal favorite writing.

please also leave feedback and let me know if your liked it, or loved it as much as i do! )

- 

Soft fingertips gazed your skin as sunlight filtered through the small room, in poured the smell of the salt scented ocean that ran a few miles away from where you lay, your mind ran memories of the summer moments that kept your heart afloat in the daisy days that you have been having.

The floor boards creak in the sun abundant expense of your bed room as you lay limb in the soft hands that continue to expand over your body. From your neck, ribs, hips, thigh, to feet, creased every inch of warm skin and soft hairs that grew over your curved body.

“Are you awake?” He spoke into the once quiet atmosphere. You suck in a deep breath of air that you let slip out through your nose, your eyes peeling open and seeing the nude blanket covering the inches of your thighs as you turned your head up to look at the ceiling.

You let a quiet hum slip through your lips as the sound of his skin brushing against yours continues to echo in the four walls of the room. Cracks in the ceiling gave character to the bland space that had books covering most of the walls and furniture in it, there was music scriptures with pencils and pens scattered amongst the study desk that accompany your room, as well as candles and clothing articles also being scattered amongst the mess.

“Are you okay?” The voice continues, hands stopping below your stomach and feeling the skin there with their thumb.

You let another hum slip through your lips before letting your tongue slip out of your mouth and licking over your top lip before turning your gaze away from the cracked roof to peer into the lovers boy eyes next you that cuddle into your warmth, and you into his.

“Are you okay?” You speak to him, your eyes watching as his lengthy eyelashes cast a shadow over his under eyes as he also licks his lips and lets a hum slip out of his mouth.

His feathery blonde hair that curled loosely at the ends brushed up against the sides of his neck as his ears perked up in its effortless way as he continued to lie against you. His Adam’s apple bobbed once he lets his saliva breeze down his throat, his naked skin causing you to twist your body to lie on top of him and letting your lips press against the veins smooth amongst his skin.

Deep breaths lift from your lungs as you breathe in his cool scent. The smell of light lavender, mixed with the signature scent of the muskiness of his manhood, as well as his faint smell of sweat mixed along with your sweet scent. This smell is something you died for; you never wanted it to leave your nose. You wanted the smell to swaddle you up whole, wrap its arms around you and never let it slip between your fingers even though you knew it was slipping between your fingers at every passing moment as the days continue to come, you counting down mindlessly.

“This is my favorite moment,” The deep voice speaks, his chest thundering against yours as your body continues to lie in his as you press a kiss against the soft skin by his collar bones.

“With the sun,” You gently say, your fingers peeling away from your sides and running against soft skin of the blue eyed boy.

“The sun and you,” He breathed, his eyes never peeling away from yours as one of his hands come up and cup your jaw into his hands. Your fingers continuing to flow against his skin, never wanting the feeling to end as you feel the ripple and sag of his tissue. You never wanted the feeling to end.

You continue to look into his eyes as they hold so much endearment and passion in them, from the day you met to the heart wrenching feeling that caves in your chest and wanting nothing more than to crawl into his body and live there for the rest of your life. You felt as if you both were made for each other but you never said a word, you never said a thing, because you did not want to scare him off. You wanted him close, since you first saw him.

Blue fluffy shirt and mysterious eyes greeting yours as the sun continued to rise. Flashbacks of your first time meeting forever playing every time you stare into his sapphire eyes, you couldn’t help but keep drowning in.

It was the simple, “Hello,” with a firm hand shake that had you caving, and every single time you remember you laugh at it foolishly how easily he had you wrapped around his finger. It was so easy that you wonder if he knew. You wonder if he knew how easily you fell for him; could he tell when your fingers itched to be near his, or when you stuttered speaking once before asking him if he knew anything about the piano, or did he know when your eyes scanned every expense of his skin when it shown on the banks of the sea were you both would swim for hours on end. You always wonder, when did he know when you fell for him.

You could not help the smile that plastered on your face as you continue to scan every feature of his, every feature that you have kissed over many, many times on end, always wanting to know how his eyelashes felt between your lips or wondering if the end of his nose was really as soft as the rest of his body. You learnt the structure of his figure inside and out from the many weeks you spent together and loved every inch of his skin. From the light blonde hairs that grew out of his thick scalp to the craters in his feet that pressed against the wooden floor boards of this house that he called home for six weeks.

You love it.

Or did you love something more and was just too afraid to say. You were always afraid of asking because you always cared about what he thought. So you kept your mouth shut and your feelings at bay as you continue to breathe in the sea scent that flooded your room now, basically begging you to get up and let your body dive deep into the cool chill of the water and let it consume you whole just like your feelings.

“Let’s go swimming,” You smile, your fingers halting against his skin before pushing against it and rising your body up. You twist and carry the bedroom sheet with you as you let your head turn away from the beauty that lies in front of you to look out the window that shows the acres of trees and stones that you let your eyes reminisce on, during the many times you were here.

-

“You’ve barely spoken to me today,” Luke says, water droplets dripping down his shoulders as his hair mattes to his forehead; he lets his hands continue to roam over his body to dry the water on his skin.

“I’m thinking,” You say, your fingers brushing into the seeds of the sand as you look up at him, the sun ruining your vision for a moment before you turn it back towards the bank of the water.

“What are you thinking about,” He continues, his body lying down at the bottom of the towel by your feet as he takes them into his hands and begin to massage it. A small smile tugging at the ends of your lips as you watch as he turns his attention away from you and to relieve the knot in the bottom of your foot.

“It’s private,” You say, voice hush as the waves hit the shore and the feeling of uneasiness willows in your stomach.

“It’s private she says,” Luke lets out; you shake your head smugly before tearing your feet from out of his grasps. Luke lets out a laugh, turning onto his stomach and grasping his sunglass off of the towel and slipping them on.

“There is a lot going on Luke,” You state, your ankles crossing as you sit up, your hand coming down to draw little circles onto his back. Your teeth biting into your lip as you try to keep yourself at ease.

“There will always be a lot going on,” Luke says while his back curves into your fingers. You let a deep sigh slip out of your lips, of course. “There will always be something going on in this world. The world will never stop spinning, time never stops ticking, and the waves keep on crashing, but as long as I have you then it always feels as if… everything does stop.” Luke says, his head leaning into your calf and the palms of his hands lying against your ankles.

“Nothing ever really stops,” You say, tongue poking out of your mouth and scanning over your lips before looking down at the dirty blonde head.

“Stop thinking,” Luke sighs, his head shaking against your body and causing you to roll your eyes in annoyance.

“I can’t stop thinking if that’s the only thing on my mind.” You speak in exhaustion before you let your back smack against the sand. Your arms digging into the warm sand and letting it consume you, wishing that it would consume you whole.

“Stop thinking,” He continues, and you just shake your head and let another breath consume your lungs and slip out of your nose.

It was so easy for Luke to tell you to stop thinking, but he clearly wasn’t going through what you were going through and it figures. Your heart knew it was going to tear into strings as the days continue to count down where he will soon leave you in the mist of summer love, and you hated how it turn you upside down, feeling numb till you let your lungs fill with air and trying your hardest to never let it get to you.

Stop thinking.

But you couldn’t, you could never, and even once Luke left you still would not stop thinking. Thinking about the first kiss, the place you showed him where you would go when you wanted a piece of mind, thinking about the hands brushing against each other under the kitchen table or when you would walk past each other in the corridor, your eyes locking and speaking a hush language that only the both of you knew. Your thoughts never stopped floating in, and you couldn’t help it.  

“Stop thinking,” You whisper, your eyes closing as you swallow the aching in your throat as you feel your eyes brim with tears. You hope to god Luke wasn’t watching you.

But he was, he was watching the sand dig into your skin and seep into the nestle of your hair, your crimson one piece bathing suit clinging onto the curves of your shoulders as your eyes were closed and the sun kisses you.

His mouth open to speak but quickly falling shut as he watched your eyelids flicker while them being closed, something he noticed you did when you would worry.

Luke knew what was going on, he wasn’t stupid but he tried not to think about it, even though it was killing him inside. He knew what it was like to have flings, they come and go, hell, he had a few when he was a teenager when he would go to camp in Muskoka in Canada when he lived with his grandparents for a short while, so he knew what to expect but he did not imagine for this “fling” to hit hard. He would not even call what he and you had a “fling”; it was so much more than that.

He wonder what it would be like if he left, how he would see the world without you and he hated to even think about it so he acted as if it was the last thing on the brink of his mind even though he and you knew, that you were both counting down when you both were going to departure from each other’s presence.

“I know,” Luke says before peeling away from your calf and fixing his body to lie against you, his lips coming to pepper kisses against the temple of your forehead.

“Please… just stop thinking.”

It was the year of 1983 and during the summer months you spent it at your parent’s Cliffside mansion on the Italian Riviera. Every year your parents would sort through profile cards on guest who would stay with your family as the summer begin to wind down, the guests were never charged but they had to make the exception that they would have to help your father with his translations that he did for many authors and professors, as he was one himself.

You thought this summer would have been like the many other summers before but you quickly knew it wasn’t when Luke was drawn to you as you were to him.

You tried to brush the feeling aside and let your closed personality give him the hint that you really did not want anything to do with him. But he still tried.

He would get you to ride his bike with him into town to go pick up your fathers daily transcripts, or he would bring you down to the sea we’re you both would swim from sun up to sun down.

Soon you begin to learn every inch of his skin as he cracked your armored persona. You learned his scent and his style, you learned how to play the guitar by his steady hands guiding you through the strings, you learned how to catch your very first fish, and you learned how to love.

It came slow but crash landed and set a flame to everything you thought you knew about love. You never knew that love was slow and unpromising; you never knew that it rippled against your feelings before sending alarming waves to your heart. You never knew pressing your lips against the sweet cupid bow of his would cause this much pain that you were nearing.

You absolutely adored Luke and everyone could see that. They could tell by the way you looked at each other, the faint smiles you would share during dinner when an argument was at place and you two both knew well how it would end, they could tell by the way he followed you around and ask nearly every second where you were, only for you to be found by a piano or loafing out by the river reading along to the author, André Acinan.

They knew before you both knew.

They also knew before you both knew how it would end.

But this was something you did not expect in the mist of your summer here, you always expected to be ignored by the guest who stayed the last months of summer, always letting a small, “hi” and “bye” leave your lips whenever encountering with a guest but instead Luke always asked you what your thoughts were on certain things.

“What do you think about death?”

“It’s the only thing promised in life. It’s probably one thing I’m not scared about like most people, I have grown to welcome it.”

“What are your thoughts on about the afterlife?”

“I believe we leave and watch as life goes on, we never really pass on we just watch as life goes on without us.”

“What are your thoughts on about love?”

“It’s supposed to feel like something out of the movies, right, something that compels you to never want to be with anyone else but that other person and nearly dying if they ever leave.”

“Have you ever experienced it before?”

“No.”

“Are you scared too?”

“Yes.”

There you were letting the feelings crash upon like a boat lost at sea battling the chaotic waves of feeling so lost and not knowing where to turn. Where to look and where to find someone so they could hold you ever so close that you try to forget everything, forget this feeling, forget the way he felt between your finger tips, forget the way he smiles under your thumb before pressing a lonesome kiss to it. Just forget everything.

You wanted nothing more than to forget but your heart new better than that. Your heart welcomed that dying feeling to remember what it’s like to be human and what it’s like to feel for once in your lonely life of piano playing and inked filled words; to feel heartbroken.

-

Your heart was beating fast, as your lips beamed a cheerful smile your body dancing upbeat to the rhythmic music blasting through the speakers of the bar that you and Luke decided to go to since your parents wondered what the night held for you both.

The plan wasn’t actually to end up there but Luke has good ears and seemed to never turn away from music, you swore one time that he has bats ears; he could hear music from a mile away. You really admire it though. You admire everything about him.

From his infectious smile that lit up the room and your soul so easily that you found it so crazy how completely obsessed you were with a man you met only for a couple of weeks.

Your feet continue to move to the beat of the music as the alcohol that you consumed moments ago continues to fill your body up and leave you happy, something you haven’t been feeling recently due to traumatic heartbreak that will be accompanying you soon.

The softness of his hands wrapped around your waist and moved along to the beat of the music, you quickly turned around in his hold and leaned over and kissed him, your alcohol flowing body letting your hands roam to his neck and letting your fingers roam amongst your favorite part of his skin.

You never want to let him go, and you never wanted the taste of him to leave your buds. You wanted him to stay and to live with you and the sun and by the banks of the sea where his loose curls will say hello to you and you will say hi back with your fingers running through his vanilla scented hair as you placed a kiss amongst his mop of hair. You wanted him forever.

Your mouth opened and teasingly let your tongue dance with his as you continue to move your hips along to the beat of the music, you couldn’t help it. Once you had the taste of him on your tongue you couldn’t help but want more of it, to devour it.

“I want you,” You breathe against his open mouth your lips now pecking kisses along his chin and then running it down his neck. Luke’s arms wrapped around your shoulders as he brought you impossibly closer into him, you did not mind, you delve your nose into the base of his neck as your hands wrapped around his waist and dug your head deeper into him.

“I will always want you,” Luke whispers, the beating of his heart going through one ear while the other ear hears music pumping through the speakers. Once again you let your lips place a kiss on the expose skin of his neck before pulling away from his embrace and letting the hands that rested against your shoulder now grip in your placement before peeling you off of the dance floor and letting you roam amongst the streets of Italy.

Your fingers played within his as he walked you both to a destination you were unsure of, and honestly you were unsure of Luke yourself. Six weeks was a short amount of time to fall in love with someone and you did it but you let your mind wander and ask yourself; “Did you know everything about Luke?”

You knew a lot but you didn’t know everything. You knew that he liked waking up early in the morning to see the sun rise above the clouds; you knew that he liked to swim and he felt like the sea was really his home, he liked animals and he liked eating food that he didn’t really know anything of but wanted to try it anyways. You knew that Luke liked being tickled and when he was tickled for a long time his laugh would change and his face would turn from extremely red to extremely pale, you knew the freckles that caste down his back and you knew what his life was like back home.

You knew a lot and you wanted to know more and you wanted to ask him everything there was under the sun but your time together is soon coming to an end and you don’t even know if it’s even right anymore to ask such things. You don’t know many things, and you wished you knew more, you wished you had more time so that you could know more.

The stars shined above the both of you in your intoxicated states, your feet stumbling against the stones, as your body cuddled into his as your fingers dug into the emerald green button up shirt Luke had on, and continue to breath him in before he stumbled you both into a stairway, his lips running along your neck.

“I don’t want you to go,” You whisper, as his lips continue to kiss their way up your neck, your eyes closed as your fingers to dig into the skin of his shoulders.

Luke didn’t respond to your voice but instead planted a deep kiss on your lips, hoping that you can feel the sadness he felt on his end that he was leaving and he didn’t want to leave too.

“Please stay,” You continue once his lips break apart from yours but you let your lips travel back to his, his taste lingering on your tongue and causing you to moan out as your fingers release his shoulders and letting your fingers trail from his upper body to lower and soon heading to his groin.

Your lips brushed against his smooth ones, saliva coated and soft, and his hands feeling the softness between his fingers before he lets a groan slip out of his mouth as he feels your hand feel over his manhood.

The sound of your kisses echo throughout the atmosphere and you loved that, you loved that it was only Luke and you and it only ever felt like that. You loved the way he felt in your hand, soft and erect, the bead of his pre cum resting at the tip, begging to be tasted, begging to be engulfed with your sweet mouth and it soon was.

Your lips sucking on the sweat bead as a salty version of Luke sunk into your tongue before you completely took him into your mouth. Your throat welcoming Luke’s thick member as you swallowed him slowly, you wanted him to feel every inch of you, every warm salvia droplet that slipped onto his member and glistened with the shininess from your lip-gloss, you loved it.

You hummed with happiness as you continue to swallow Luke down, your tongue running along the underside and feeling the heavy veins pulse against your taste buds as you continued to go down on him and not stopping as his moans continue to fill the space you both are in.  

You loved hearing him fall apart under your spell. Hearing him release himself and relax and fall into your body for safety and comfort. You loved how he allowed himself more importantly, he always loved to run his thumb along your upper lip as you took him into your mouth deeper and deeper, feeling his shaft grow down your throat as if it was meant to be there. You loved it. You love the way he felt, causing you to struggle and causing your eyes to water as you couldn’t help but stare up at him in pure beauty as he moaned into the moonlight on how good you were to him.

“Heaven sent.” He would say every time, as he continue to take control and pump his erect cock into your mouth and never stopping even if you gagged. Spit ran down the sides of your cheeks and you didn’t mind, you continue to take him, swallow him down, spit and let your tongue twist and do the famous tricks that had him coming undone the many times like before, and you loved it.

You loved it.

Soon enough you felt Luke’s hand tear away from your upper lip and grasp you by your shoulders, your body straightening out against the wall before his hands came under your thighs and thrusted you up against it. His lips flying back onto yours and tasting himself on his tongue with ill shame. Your tongue danced with his so heavenly that you couldn’t help yourself but kiss so musingly along with him. Your fingers dove into his hair, his naked member rubbed against yours causing you to moan in his open mouth.

“Who told you to go bare today,” He hummed against your mouth, one of his hands peeling away from your thigh to grasp his member into your hand and rub it against your core.

You couldn’t help but moan against his lips before peppering kisses along his cheeks, moaning in his ear as he continue to tease you with himself, your body twitching as he continues to toy with your bundles of nerves.

“Please,” You moan, your fingers massaging his scalp as he pressed his lips into your neck and kissed the soft skin there.

He granted your plea and let his member slip into your drench core; he filled your tight walls as he continues to pepper you with kisses. Trying to kiss away your whines and high pitched moans as you still weren’t use to the feelings of him completely taking you up.

You let your head lay back against the wall as Luke continue to thrust his hips into yours, first sincere and soft before becoming hard and withholding, not letting the feeling of you draw him back, but instead let him cave deeper. He wanted to feel every inch of you and wanted to kiss your skin till there were bruises and bite marks there.

He loved feeling you drip against him as he quickly delved against your hips, he loved the feeling of you so much that he didn’t know what he would have done once he left, being away from you would feel like having a withdrawn from drugs, he didn’t know how he would stop himself from tasting your candy lips and feeling your sugar coated pussy in the hold of his shaft. He didn’t know what he would do.

So he held you tighter, let his nails dig into your thighs as he thrusted into you messily. His hips never stopping as soft moans littered through his lips.

You couldn’t help but moan yourself; you loved the way Luke made you feel. You loved how it had your spine tingling and breath feeling so short, you loved the feeling and you never wanted it to end.

You let your body willingly let Luke do whatever he wanted, you couldn’t but grow completely fond of how soft but yet rough Luke treated you. His lips would always attack your neck and make it look like a crime scene once the sun came up, you adored how your legs would struggle to walk because they ache do to his hips moving so rapidly, but you couldn’t help but admire how he never stopped making you feel something so compelling and so breath taking that it always felt like walking on the moon with him.

His hips continue to drum against yours and yours continuing to thrust into his, your moans flowing into the air feeling him continue to stretch you out in the sweetest way possible. You loved this feeling and you craved it wholeheartedly. You loved it; you wanted to live with this feeling forever.

You never wanted him to stop, even if your breath began to slow and your heart continued to pound against your chest that it almost felt hard to feel anything. Your eyes close dazedly as you felt the feelings of your orgasmic bliss come across you in a beautiful way. Your legs begin to twitch as you let Luke’s name tremble out of your mouth constantly as you unfold under his touch, under his gaze, and under the stars. Your back coming off the wall and arching into his chest as you feel his head lie against your chest, the feeling of his seed slipping out of you, the sensation pleasing you silently.

Your lungs welcomed the crisp air and you felt his curved lips press kisses against your skin, your name leaving his lips so lovely that you just wanted him to say your name all till you feel asleep.

“I’m gonna put you down,” And you felt his finger nails tear away from your flesh and place you back onto the cobblestone ground, your back brushing back into the wall and letting Luke’s body back into yours. You were still intoxicated, you did not know about Luke but you knew you were and you knew you wanted this moment to last together.

“You’re all that I want.” You speak into the crisp air, both bodies bruised with kisses and light scratch marks as you wrap your arms around his back, your fingers grasping onto the green clothing material as you held onto him sluggishly. Finally you open your eyes again, your orbs coming in contact with his blue ones.

“Please don’t go,” You say again, the alcohol taking apart your feelings and tearing them together and throwing them at your feet, telling you to look at the mess you made of yourself.

“Please stay.” You whisper as you watch Luke’s eyes close for a moment before peeling open again, his eyes brimming in the salt of his tears as he looks at you completely loss like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. And he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s lost, he scared, and sad, and feels everything that you feel right now.

Stay.

That is all you’re asking him, and looking into his ocean eyes says everything that needs to be said in the close atmosphere.

[beautiful-de4mity]

[Alice Nine Fanfiction] ASYLUM (Chapter 2)

Hiroto feels a faint twinge in his chest as he notices the gleam of admiration for the doctor named Amano in Shou’s beautiful eyes. He says nothing more and lets Shou back on scrutinizing the notebooks and journals he has been reading after promising Hiroto to have lunch together. Shou looks so excited despite being exhausted, thought Hiroto, surely Shou really admires that Amano guy.

Chapter 02 [Vulnerable]

Author: beautiful-de4mity

Fandom: Alice Nine

A/n: I’m happy to be this productive and excited on writing again! I actually overdid the research on this theme and one of my readers told me not to put too detailed things since this is only a piece of fanfiction 😂 in the next chapters, I’m trying to focus more on the relationships between characters. Ganbarimasu!

Inspired song: ASYLUM from PLANET NINE Album

Disclaimer: Can we all agree that Alice Nine’s bonds are so wonderful we can literally ship every member with anyone? /I’m talking trash lol

The wall clock in his office points at ‘one’ in the morning but Amano Tora is still enjoying the online game The Last of Us, which he plays with some friends through his customized PC. It was a tiring day in fact as the hospital research team was running a series of tests and monitoring on Saga and the poor boy doesn’t seem to be in a good condition. Saga was being a handful today; kept fighting back and trying to escape from the running procedures. Finally, they had to completely sedate Saga and put him to sleep forcefully after his attempt to strangle one of the doctors. Tora exhales instinctively as the scene flashes through his mind, distracting his focus from the game until his friends’ panic yelp are heard through the headphones.

“Warui, warui,” Tora picks back his focus on the game.

Tora finishes the game thirty minutes later, placing the headphones on the keyboard and taking off his glasses. The young doctor leans back on the chair, massaging the bridge of his nose and exhales for the umpteenth time. The corner of his eye catches Saga’s assessment chart, which is still empty since this afternoon since everything went off plan. Tora somewhat feels relieved for Ohara Shou, the psychology student he was involved in researching Saga’s case, reported that he couldn’t come because of a group assignment today. Tora doesn’t want to scare Shou by seeing Saga went berserk and change his mind. Tora is really fond of Shou’s research proposal, it is very potential and promising.

The hospital corridor in the psychiatric ward is deserted, of course, it is almost dawn. Only a few people from the night shift remaining, chatting in the administration section sipping coffee. Tora smiles when several nurses greet him and giggle, making him shake his head as he enters the toilet. It is a public secret that Amano Tora becomes the idol of the female staffs in the psychiatric ward, even staffs from other departments throughout this hospital know him. Even so, Tora is not interested in dating anyone at all. Currently, work and games are two aspects of his life that he can’t abandon.

Tora pauses for a moment at the turn of the corridor upon returning from the toilet, staring at the door of Saga’s room several meters ahead where the young man is still sleeping under the anesthetic effect. Tora’s wondering if he should check on the poor boy’s condition even though he could just go to the monitor room to look through the CCTV. The young doctor finally walks over to Saga’s room and peeks through the glass window. Tora’s forehead frowned when he finds out Saga is writhing restlessly on his bed as if he is struggling to escape from something. Was he tied up earlier? Tora hurriedly pasts his ID to unlock the door, he then darts next to Saga’s bed and more surprised to find Saga’s shaking drenched in sweat. The young man seemed to be trying hard to fight something in his sleep but could not scream for someone to wake him up.

“Saga,” Tora kneels beside the bed and tries to wake his patient. “Saga, are you okay?” as slowly as possible, Tora shakes Saga’s body so that he won’t be startled or terrified.

Saga is trembling badly that Tora feels the need to grab onto Saga’s thin shoulders to prevent him from falling off the bed. Saga looks like he is trying to fight something terrible in his sleep, Tora can see clearly the expression of fear even though Saga’s eyes are closed. Saga clenches his jaws tightly, holding back the screams while both of his hands groping for the air almost punch Tora’s face. Just when Tora decides to force Saga to wake up, both of Saga’s eyelids opened. In the dark. Tora catch the glint of tears pooling down his dark irises. With a broken breath, Saga jolts up and immediately grabs Tora’s neck, hugging him very tightly as if he intends to break the young doctor’s neck. Tora tries not to make any sudden movements that can trigger Saga to panic even though his neck starts to ache.

Cautiously, Tora got up from his kneeling position and sits on the edge of Saga’s bed while Saga still clinging onto him like a Koala. Tora can feel Saga’s ferocious heartbeat, so fast that it might explode at any moment even though his body gradually stops shaking while his white clothes are soaked with sweat.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Tora pats Saga on the shoulder awkwardly.

Saga buries his face in Tora’s shoulder more deeply, not making a sound.

“You had a nightmare?” asks Tora, followed by a small nod as the answer.

The young doctor fixes his position so that Saga can calm himself faster, while Saga himself feels a little confused about his own reaction: clinging on Tora as if Tora is a magnetic field. Come to think of it since the beginning of his arrival at this hospital’s psychiatric ward, Amano Tora is the only person who makes him feel safe and Saga doesn’t mind at all having any kind of contact with him. Even at this moment, Saga can clearly smell the faint scent of Tora’s perfume mixed with trail of tobacco, oddly helps him to calm down.

“I’ll leave when you can sleep again,” Tora breaks the silence when the sound of their breaths is the only sound heard in the room a few moments later.

Saga quickly shakes his head, gripping the front of Tora’s shirt to indicate the young doctor not to leave him. The response makes Tora’s brows furrowed in surprise. Indeed, all this time Saga has always shown a rather sweet, cooperative-good boy attitude to him, but he does not expect Saga to be this vulnerable with him when Saga usually guarded and distance himself from people. Tora takes notes carefully in his mind about Saga’s current behavior to be written later on the assessment chart he left on his desk.

“Okay, I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep,” again, Tora strokes Saga on the shoulder awkwardly.

For the first time in three months under his specialist care, Saga shows signs that he is starting to trust Tora. If Saga could tell Tora directly about how the young doctor make him feel safe and at ease whenever Tora is around, maybe Tora wouldn’t have been wondering this much. Saga manages to go back to sleep around three a.m. in the morning. Tora’s body feels so beaten up and he almost gives up temptation to fall asleep beside Saga. But he can’t let people find him sleeping while having his patient on his arms like that afterall.

***

Ogata Hiroto, a petite-built art student with flaming blonde hair, is pacing back and forth with a confused look of a typically lost child in the psychology faculty library building in his search for Shou. For several days, he had gone back and forth to the psychology faculty to find his senior, but the results were always to no avail. Shou didn’t reply to his LINE, didn’t update his YouTube channel, and didn’t update his Instagram for three days in a row, Hiroto was worried. Hiroto’s gaze finds a flash of Shou’s somewhat disheveled brunette hair on the desk next to “Journal Publications” section shelves, appearing star-like sparkling effect in the cute young man’s eyes.

“Shou yaaaaaan!” Hiroto’s excited voice and the sight of him running happily towards Shou, drawing all of the library visitors’ attention. “Ah, sorry, sorry,” Hiroto gives a shy bow as people stare at him with blasphemous looks.

Shou looks up from his notebook and journal print outs that are scattered on the table, he smiles sweetly at Hiroto. Shou’s face is slightly pale with trace of dark circles under his eyes, and overall he looks unusually scruffy. Hiroto is anxious and astonished as he sits next to Shou.

“Shou yan, are you okay? Shou yan sick or something?“ Hiroto’s eyebrows knitted, observing Shou’s unusual appearance from head to toe.

"No, I’m just having bunch of assignments,” Shou replies softly, putting down the pen he is still holding and now focusing on Hiroto completely. “What brings you here?”

Hiroto pouts, “I’ve been looking for you for the past three days, you know! Shou yan didn’t reply to my LINE, didn’t post anything on SNS even though usually you upload something regularly,” the cute young man sulks.

Shou ruffles Hiroto’s blonde hair exasperatedly, “Sorry, I’m really busy lately because the midterm exam right around the corner and Amano sensei has just invited me to join his research team,” explains the beautiful-eyed young man, his face flushes with joy when he mentioned ‘Amano sensei’.

“Who is Amano sensei?” noticing the unusual glow in Shou’s face makes Hiroto feel uneasy.

“Oh, him,” Shou’s face which was slightly pale now beamed. “He’s a neuropsychiatric at the private central hospital in Shibuya. When I was a freshman, the faculty invited him to be one of the speakers and since then I have been interested in doing research in neuropsychiatry. A few days ago I sent my research proposal on mutism and asked him to be the instrument validator. Surprisingly, he then recruited me to the hospital research team that currently is handling a case of mutism,“ Shou explains enthusiastically.

Hiroto feels a faint twinge in his chest as he notices the gleam of admiration for the doctor named Amano in Shou’s beautiful eyes. He says nothing more and lets Shou back on scrutinizing the notebooks and journals he has been reading after promising Hiroto to have lunch together. Shou looks so excited despite being exhausted, thought Hiroto, surely Shou really admires that Amano guy. Without Shou noticing, Hiroto is now watching him closely with his chin rests on his hand. Hiroto plays the memory where they first met inside his head. Shou was his two-year-older senior in high school. Shou is popular, student’s committee president, and also worked as a model for several local magazines. He’s always been so charming and stylish plus having brilliant personality that no one can resist.

It could be said that Shou saved Hiroto’s high school life. Being so shy, Hiroto found it difficult to make friends with other people. He always ate lunch alone in the school grounds until Shou accidentally found him and they have always had lunch together since then. Shou even helped Hiroto joining the photography club because Hiroto was too shy to do it himself and encouraged him to be the student committee. Shou has a huge role in shaping Hiroto’s current personality and Hiroto has always clung to Shou like a stray puppy.

Seeing Shou being highly motivated because of someone else like this, somehow brings up a feeling of reluctance even though Shou’s attitude hasn’t changed towards him at all. Hiroto lets out a sigh.