#one day I will figure out how to scan and edit the inks so they look their best

[would-holden-caulfield-like-nge]

Some Lola (th)inking

[darlingdekarios]

look upon me.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 7,381 content: Jonathan Ohnn / The Spot x f!reader, pre and post-incident Jonathan / Spot, reader is described as being shorter than the Spot but everyone is, established relationship, fluff, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [hair pulling, biting, scratching, orgasm control], hurt/comfort, brief obsessive/possessive behavior, this was not edited because I'm lazy

of the things he’d lost that day, there was one in particular that weighed on Jonathan's mind like a bad conscience.

"Stop looking at me like that."

You hadn't changed your gaze to look at him, still locked-in on the meticulously organized papers in front of you as you scanned for the patterns and knowledge you needed. From across the table he was slumped forward, his chin resting on his hands as he did exactly that - look at you. It was so often that he needed to do little more than that to pass the time.

"Like what, baby?"

You couldn't help but smile at the false innocence in his voice. He knew what he was doing, he didn't care.

"Like you're just waiting for me to stop," you replied, eyes still locked on the scratches of ink beneath you. "I'm doing important stuff here."

"I'm trying to do important stuff to you."

The kind of embarrassing laugh that was accompanied by a snort left you, your head shaking slightly as you continued your steadfast refusal not to look at him, unwilling to have your concentration broken completely.

"Jonny, seriously," you were trying your best to sound serious and stern, but the smile on your face didn't quite match it. "I'm trying to make sure no one blows up in this deathtrap you're building at work, and your notes are nonsense."

"My notes are perfectly -"

"In the middle of this sentence you just wrote 'banana'," you pointed out, sliding the paper in question across the table and pointing to the word. "Do you know why you did that?"

"Because I needed them from the store."

You laughed again, the sound he was convinced was the most beautiful in the world, your eyes finally raising to return his gaze. When you made eye contact with him it sucked a deep breath from him - he was always struck by you, even after years of knowing you. He'd accepted long ago it would be this way until he died.

You looked annoyed, yet at the same time so profoundly in love he couldn't believe you were looking at him. You laughed again and he took your distraction as his cue to reach across the table, one of his hands laying atop yours gently.

"You're absurd," you stated, punctuating your words with a nod. Your hand flipped beneath his, threading your fingers together as your thumb brushed over his knuckles - the ones you could reach, anyway. "You either make complete sense or you don't make any at all. Black or white."

Sometimes you talked about him like another subject you wanted to figure out. If it meant you'd stay around until you did so, he was content to continue coming up with ways to puzzle you.

"But you chose me, Atom," he replied, reminding you of something that needed no reminder. Your cheeks burned under his special name for you, eyes locking on his as any annoyance left your body. He knew exactly how to melt away any negativity from you.

"Why do you call me that?" you questioned, head tilting slightly to the side in an adorable fashion that always made him love you just a bit more than he had a moment ago. So many things you did caused the reaction from him, and he was happy to continue to add to the list. "Anytime I ask you just smile. I want to know."

Something in the look in your eye and a feeling that now was when he should give you the answer you wanted had the words spilling out of his mouth. Compared to how long you'd waited it was rather unceremonious, but so many things between the two of you had always been as such. Neither of you were incredibly concerned with things being made into a big deal, and now was no different.

You already knew how much he loved you.

"Atoms make up everything," he explained, his hand squeezing yours lightly as he spoke. "You're my everything."

Your eyes softened further as you took in his words, your heart tightening just as his hand had around yours. With a smile you shook your head again, using your other hand to mark your place on the page you'd abandoned.

"How am I supposed to keep reading through this when you say things like that?"

"I could've been the next Shakespeare if I didn't love science so much."

"Did you even take theatre at any point? Or creative writing?"

"No, I took anatomy instead," that cheekiness was returning to his tone, the need heavy in his tone. You raised an eyebrow at his words, already expecting something along the lines of what would come next. "Wanna see what I learned?"

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, a grin that you loved more than anything in the world spreading across his face as he leaned forward in his seat, waiting for permission to come closer, waiting for you to give in. You couldn't help it when you looked deep into his eyes, seeing how badly he needed you…you had to give him something.

As you nodded he immediately grabbed your chair to move it closer, only for you to reach out and grab the table, clicking your tongue against your teeth.

"Well, I still have to finish reading, don't I?"

"But…"

"Aw, don't pout, Doctor," you cooed, turning your head and leaning to kiss his cheek softly. "I'm sure you can find a way to prove how hard you studied while I finish up."

Yeah, he could.

The security deposit the two of you had put on this apartment was forgotten as he yanked his chair across the wooden floor, settling it right next to yours. As he got comfortable you began your work again, the switch of your own activated - when it was time to focus, you could always be relied upon to do so.

Even when one of his large hands slid across your chest, cupping one of your breasts tenderly. The first touch from him was always cautious and respectful, waiting for you to say a single word of disagreement. You nodded, eyes briefly flickering to his before you focused back in one your task.

Thankful for the oversized v-neck sweater you'd worn today he slid a hand into the soft fabric, mentally thanking you for having removed your bra already when you got home. The soft flesh of your breast felt perfect in his hand as he massaged it tenderly before his attention quickly turned.

His thumb brushed over your nipple gently before circling the sensitive bud, his eyes still focused on your face and searching for any sort of reaction. Even when he pinched not a single sound left you, your face unchanging as you read his words.

And while he wanted to let you focus, he couldn't stand to not hear you at least moan for him.

He abandoned his hold on your breast to hike the knee length skirt you were wearing up around your waist, gently pushing your panties to the side - still somewhat waiting for you to stop him. You didn't, convinced you could outlast him in this little game the two of you were now playing, but honestly not really caring if you lost.

You almost lost completely when he leaned down, his tongue circling your nipple as his index finger circled your clit. You slipped - it was understandable - and a soft moan filled the room, your eyes momentarily falling closed as he sucked your nipple gently before looking back up into your face.

"Well finally," he dragged the final letter out as he pushed his middle finger into you, running his tongue over the same nipple again. "You're so wet already."

"I like reading your work," you confessed in a broken voice, allowing yourself a brief moment to forget your focus. You felt his mouth fall open in shock and the groan that he let out at your words.

"Oh."

He kept his mouth busy, as he often liked to do when you were alone together in various ways, but where he chose to focus his attention on proving his anatomy skills was with his hand. As he pumped his longest finger into you he stroked your walls lovingly, pushing against the spongy spot behind your clit carefully and with the perfect amount of pressure each time.

When he pushed his index finger inside you as well, with ease considering how wet you were now and with a downright pornographic sound he couldn't help but moan as he suckled on your breast.

You were trying to focus still - a remarkable feat, mind you, considering how good his fingers felt pumping into you at this speed and with this amount of care - but one of your hands came up to hold the back of his head, fingers pulling at the messy strands of his hair.

"Jonny…"

Your moan immediately had his attention, his mouth abandoning you so he could flash you a cheeky grin, his cheeks deep red in color and pupils blown wide as he took in your face again.

"Oh, now you want attention?"

You blew a deep breath out of your nose, giving his hair a gentle tug as you met a pump of his fingers with a grind of your hips.

"I only have one more page to make sense of…"

"But…"

"You can wait five minutes…"

"I can't," he whined, his voice ridiculous in this tone but earnest - he really couldn't wait for you much longer before he got excessively needy, but you loved pushing him to the edge sometimes. "I swear to…whatever the hell scientists swear to I can't, my tongue needs to be in you now or I swear…"

You pushed his head upward to claim his lips in a heavy kiss, a heavy groan from him falling against your mouth as you licked across his bottom lip before whispering lightly.

"If you're a good boy and let me finish I'll let you cum in me tonight."

If he wasn't so excited about the promise you'd made he would have been embarrassed by the high pitched moan that he allowed to rip through his chest, instead he could only sit spellbound as you sank your teeth into his bottom lip lightly, pulling back slightly before pulling away entirely. You licked your lips slowly, eyes holding his gaze for a moment before you continued.

"But only if you let me finish, Jonny," you warned, turning your attention back to the documents on the table and releasing your hold on his hair. "D'you think you can manage that?"

"Yes," he promised with a huff, rolling his eyes at the fact he had to wait…he understood your fears about his job but at the moment would insist there were other things that deserved attention. He tentatively pumped his fingers back into you, not even risking a glance at your face now. "But…to clarify, I still want my head between your thighs first."

"Jonny," you warned again, flashing him one last serious look with your eyes, though a light smile played on your lips. He removed his fingers from you with another huff, lifting his hand to wrap his lips around them with an appreciative groan.

Aware of your attention on him again and your mouth falling open he grinned as he released his fingers with a pop, shrugging his shoulders unceremoniously.

"Sorry," it was the fakest use of the word he'd ever used, you were aware of that. "Just speaking my truth."

But he was capable - hell, he had a PhD, he could be patient if he really needed to be…no matter how badly he didn't want to be. No matter how hard his dick was throbbing against the black sweatpants he had chosen to wear around the apartment.

He waited until you started putting the papers back in a neat stack, instead choosing to stand quickly, grabbing you by the waist and leaning down to claim your lips in a hungry, somewhat messy kiss. Thankful you returned his kiss and chose calculated movements to encourage it into something more precise, he focused on turning the two of you until the backs of your thighs were hitting the edge of the table.

"Now," he whined out in a heavy breath. "Need you now. Please, now."

He was begging against your lips as he worked the zipper and button open on your skirt, pushing both it and your panties to the ground and kicking the fabric out of the way in hopeful anticipation. You could feel his hard cock pressed between the two of you and knew he had done the best he could in waiting, but that didn't affect how you loved to tease him still.

"You're ravenous tonight," you pointed out in what could be described as little more than a purr, nipping at his bottom lip again to pull another moan from his chest. He returned the favor before he stood straight - well, straight for him - encouraging you to lay back against the table.

"I'm about to show you how much."

He found his own seat in the chair you had been in and leaned forward as his hands slid to grasp your knees, encouraging your legs apart and baring your dripping sex to him. One of his hands trailed upward and he watched in awe as his fingers glided up and down her soaked folds, back and forth, spreading the slick he had already earned.

He continued this motion, adding in gentle rubs to your clit, as he kissed up your inner thigh, enjoying the soft feeling of your skin against his lips as you moaned at the familiar scratch of his beard.

"Jonny…please…"

"Oh, now who's needy?"

But he didn't tease like you, he wasn't able when it came to you, and it wasn't like he could wait any longer. Before you could blink again he had leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue as he ran the thick muscle through them, well intent on tasting every inch of you again like it was the first time.

"Oh, you're indescribable," he grumbled against you after he'd flicked his tongue against your clit, glowing as your fingers found their way into his hair again, holding him close. Any complaints you'd ever made about his smart mouth were always forgotten when his tongue was worshipping you.

"Feels so good, Jonny," you moaned breathlessly, pulling his hair to encourage him back to what he had been begging for.

With a deep groan he continued, alternating between sucking on your clit and running his tongue between your folds, filling the apartment with lewd sounds as he slurped at your soaked pussy, ensuring every inch received his attention. He began to fuck his tongue into you, his nose pushing against your clit as he devoured you exactly how you wanted.

And that's how he got his first reward, your walls fluttering around his tongue as you came around him, your vision clouded as your orgasm rushed through you. As you moaned his name and your shaking thighs came closer around his head he didn't stop, instead continuing to lick at your sex like he was already setting out to pull another from you.

Your whines and whimpers of overstimulation filled the room, pulling at his hair as you fought to catch your breath and wiggle. He took the silent instruction and removed his mouth from your core, instead kissing along the thigh that hadn't received any earlier. He couldn't resist in full, though, his index finger slipping through your folds and into your still quivering sex.

"So wet," he cooed, just before he sucked a purple hickey to the inside of your thigh. "My dick's gonna slip right in."

"Please," you whined again, fully aware that now the tables had turned and you were the desperate one. You knew what Jonathan fucked like on nights where he was feeling like this and you were eager to feel him stretch you again, but through your orgasm's lingering haze you weren't sure how constructed of a sentence you could muster.

"Aw, baby, that's so cute," you could hear the smile in his voice and against your skin as he continued to kiss wherever he could reach, his lips now pressing to the hips he loved to grab so much. "Beg a little more for me?"

To be clear, he was asking - not telling.

"Jonathan," you whined, releasing your hold on his hair to instead reach for his shoulders, hoping to encourage him to finish his climb back up your body. You weren't thinking clearly, it was obvious - you may have thought the two of you were in bed but you weren't, and there was no way this old wooden table would support what he was about to do to you. "Please. Oh fuck please just…please. I need you."

"What d'you need?"

Okay, so maybe he could tease a little…he so rarely felt like he had any power in this world and these moments where he had you, the most beautiful woman in the world, at his fingertips were irresistible.

"Want you to fuck me," you whined, heart bursting as he finally gave into you and reached to press his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. His finger was lazily pumping into you still, holding you on the brink of overstimulation - he truly did know exactly what to do to your body.

"You want me to fuck you?" he questioned, a falsely puzzled tone behind his voice. "Or you need me to fuck you?"

"Semantics."

"Say it."

His voice snapped slightly lower, just enough in the way it did when he was trying to communicate his seriousness - something he honestly rarely did with you. He would never yell at you, but that didn't mean he couldn't let you know the gravity behind his words in other ways. He needed you to say it - exactly it, and to accentuate his point, he removed his finger from you altogether.

"I need you to fuck me, Jonny," you begged against his lips, turning slightly to press lazy kisses to the corner of his mouth until you reached lower, kissing his neck in the spot you knew would melt away this dark streak.

He stood up immediately, shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to the floor and kicking them to join your skirt, fisting his cock and rubbing it through your folds to gather the mixture of cum and his spit that lingered between them.

"Don't tease," you whined again, eyes meeting his in a hope to convey your desperation. His other hand reached to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing across the bone before it trailed to your bottom lip, repeating the gentle motion as he quietly shushed you.

He started slipping his painfully hard, leaking cock inch by inch into you, trying to take his time and savor the feeling of each push, but by the time he had sheathed his cock fully in you there was something already unmistakably unhinged about his movements, his hand that had been between your thighs grasping your hip tight.

"Fuck…fuck…" he groaned as he tried to force himself to still for a moment, instead finding he couldn't help but pull completely out and thrust back in roughly, his fingers holding you hard enough to bruise - which honestly, you hadn't been aware he was strong enough to do so until now, and this was far from the first time the two of you had fucked.

"Jonny, o-oh my…"

"Fuck," he groaned out as he continued to thrust into you desperately, his movements hard and a little sloppy as he tried to find a pace he liked. When he finally settled on one he leaned forward to kiss you again, pounding into you with your bodies pressed so close together you could hear obscene sound of his balls slapping against you. "You're so perfect. You're so so so perfect."

You kissed him until you were breathless, repeated moans covering his lips as he continued with the perfect pace to match how feral he felt for you now - quick and hard, almost bruising, desperate to coax you toward another orgasm and earn his own.

You dragged your nails down his back - you might had even drawn a couple of specks of blood with how rough you accidentally slipped into - kissing back down to his mouth as you fought for a desperate breath through moans and mewls. You made a mark of your own on his neck, a spot he would wear with pride for the days it would last on his skin.

"I want you to cum again for me," he managed out between heavy breaths, one of his hands sliding to hold the back of your head gently. "Before….before I…"

"Before you fill me up," you finished for him, your tone breathy and lascivious before you ran your tongue over the hickey you'd just given him.

He moaned - whether it was at your words or tongue didn't matter - and grabbed your hip harder, his pace faltering again into something much for harder and carnal as his mind was overtaken by the idea of spilling his hot load into you.

"Gonna…gonna fill you…" he began muttering promises through breaths and thrusts, any semblance of normal speech pattern forgotten. "So fucking full."

"Please."

"Yeah, baby," he promised, managing to fight through the primal thoughts in his mind to carry out another delicate action, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Know you love it. Go ahead and milk it out of me."

His hold on your head remained as he released your hip, slipping his hand between your bodies instead to rub your clit with purpose, fully intent on not allowing himself release until he felt you spasm around his cock.

With the loudest moan of his name he'd perhaps ever earned you threw your head back, thankful his hand was there to protect it from the hardwood as your vision turned white, the temperature in the room seemingly one-thousand degrees as you clasped your legs around his waist, holding him closer.

His thrusts continued to get sloppier, and when he felt your orgasm approaching a more manageable end, he opted to ask before finding his own release.

"Can I…can I…"

"You owe me two minutes that you interrupted…when I was trying to clean…"

"Baby, no," he begged, his head shaking as he pressed gentle kisses to your cheeks and forehead and nose, hoping his sweet affection would earn him favor. "Oh, please, no…"

"Not yet."

It was a wonder that he could continue fucking you like this with how hard he was, the discomfort and need to cum evident by his begging and whining. When you finally gave him the permission he was seeking his orgasm was immediate - thick, hot ropes of his cum filling you so much it didn't take long for the thick liquid to start leaking out around his cock.

You were both overly sensitive, but that had never stopped him before and it certainly wouldn't now as he continued to drag his half-hard cock through your painted walls, content on doing so until you were a mess, pleading with him that you'd had enough and it was too much.

He listened, removing his cock from your freshly fucked sex and sitting in the chair that waited beneath him, eyes fixated on your leaking cunt. He couldn't resist - three fingers gathered the mixture of fluids that was flowing from your pussy and he pushed it back in with little consideration toward your overstimulation.

You shot up with a gasp, sitting upright just as he removed his fingers again, wasting no time and unwilling to hear complaints as he dove back between your thighs, messily licking and slurping at your hole until he felt enough of your combined releases were on his tongue. He leaned back up, one of his hands coming to the back of your head to pull you down to meet him in a heavy kiss, passing you the thick liquid he held on his tongue and continuing to lick at your mouth as it slid down your throat.

When he broke the kiss for breath his eyes were full of so much love you thought he might break your shared "no marriage" rule and propose.

"I fucking love you," he finally breathed out, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap gently to continue the shared moment of pure bliss.

"I love you, Jonny," you promised in return, nuzzling your head against his shoulder as you curled against him. "In every universe."

There was no way for you to know that, and yet, it didn't sound like too much of an impossibility.

"Atom…"

His affectionate tone was matched by the loving way he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose before he claimed your lips again in the softest kiss of the night, letting you climb out of his lap afterwards knowing there were things to be done after sex.

"'m ordering a pizza before we go to bed," he called after you as you grabbed your sweater from the floor, using your other hand to attempt to run your fingers through your messy hair.

"'m gonna shower," you replied, grabbing the other pile of clothes to add them to the hamper. He loved how easy things had become between the two of you in these recent years - he wouldn't give it up for all the power in the world. "Extra cheese or I'm breaking up with you."

"What kind of monster do you take me for?"

"The kinda monster that better hurry up so he can join me in the shower."

You took him by surprise by leaning behind him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as your arms hugged around his neck briefly. Sometimes he didn't know how or why or for how long it would last, but he knew for now, at least, you loved him in ways writers try to convey in novels.

"I'll be so fast you'll think I teleported there."

Of the things he’d lost that day, there was one in particular that weighed on his mind like a bad conscience. The reason for so many of what he used to hold in his heart as his best days, the very same that now incessantly repeated in his mind, an unremitting reminder of what he used to have. 

When he declared he had lost everything due to the incident, he was speaking of you. 

It hadn’t taken long for him to reach through to steal a look at his lost love, and while he told himself it needed to be something that didn't become a habit that's exactly what happened. Some things never changed - he was still more than happy to do nothing more than gaze at you in silence, enjoying how you adjusted annoyances as you read, the way your nose crinkled in focus, the way you fell asleep on your desk, the way you played with the necklace he'd given you when you were nervous…

He'd almost broken his promise to himself several times now, happening across you on a bad morning and an even worse night when the emptiness in your chest at the loss of him was too much to bare, the false face you normally wore too much effort to carry on forever. You missed him, and sometimes you couldn't bring yourself to do more than sob that fact into the night, clutching the lab coat wearing teddy bear he'd gifted you to your chest.

He was positive he still had a heart, because he could feel it breaking every time.

Now was one of those times, perhaps the worst he'd seen you endure, and he'd only been watching for a minute now…at least, that's what he thought, though he wasn't keeping track of time. Your eyes were burning red and you had a framed photo of the two of you lying on the bed next to you, one of his old shirts hugging your frame in familiarity.

“Jonathan?”

The sound of his name from your lips again punched another hole somewhere in him far deeper than any other. You felt him - without words you knew he was there, his presence occupying your space in a familiar comfort that you’d come to accept was irreplaceable. So he had lost track of time…enough time for you to feel him again, the man you'd spent so many hours with in the past exactly like this.

“Jonny?”

He wanted to disappear, a war waging in his mind between the profound desire to hold you again and the need to hide what he’d become from you. Instead, he was frozen, even his mind quiet as the way his name rolled off your tongue again filled his ears sweeter than any memory. He'd promised himself that you would never have to look at what he had become, insistent that you thinking he was dead was better.

“Please, Jonny…I can feel you,” your voice broke more and more with each word, desperate to plead to him enough to persuade him. “I know…I know you’re there, somehow. Please.”

What was he supposed to do when you begged like this? You used to beg in the sweetest ways, he'd never made you beg for anything in earnest, not through tears like this…

Seeing you like this because of him made him feel more villainous and monstrous than anything else he'd done. It was anxiety inducing to watch you beg for the man he used to be, knowing he could never again give you what he once did. It made him sick - every cell felt sick, every portal poisoned and shrinking, withdrawing within himself.

But one more sob from you and a lapse in judgement from him led to a wrong step, his form stepping through a portal directly at the foot of your bed before he could take it back.

Oh, how he'd missed your bravery. You were sitting in a flash, eyes wide and puzzled but not at all afraid as you looked upon him - the new him. For the first time he had to wonder if this form blushed - he felt his cheeks heating like he would have before, but that didn't mean they looked the same. You leaned against the headboard, away from him which was exactly the opposite of the pull you felt to him.

A familiar pull - one that you'd only ever felt before with one person, with your person. Your eyes resolved in knowingness and you glanced at the photo beside you before your eyes found what was technically his face again, eyebrows pulling together as you worked through your puzzled thoughts.

At least you'd stopped crying.

"J…Jonathan?"

A breath was sucked from somewhere in him and filled the room with a heavy sigh saturated in relief - he couldn't deny how right it felt that you were speaking to him again, seated in the same room…seated in the room you'd shared.

"Remember…you used to say I was so black or white," he cleared his throat that suddenly felt far too dry, an oversized hand coming up to the back of his neck to rub nervously. This is where he used to run his fingers through his hair, you noted internally as your eyes watered again hearing his voice. "Either a genius or an idiot. Now I'm black and white all at the same time…"

His rambling was cut by your arms flying around his middle, the size different between the two of you that had always been there now even more significant in his new form. He stood frozen in his place, form rigid as you squeezed him as though you would never let him go.

"You're here."

"I…I'm here," his voice was shaking and he wanted to run, he could feel the unease spreading across his body and expanding like a sickness. But the worse he felt, the more the holes shrank…everything about him was on-edge. "But I'm not me anymore, baby. I'm…this."

"You're you," your voice was that sweet, understanding tone you'd used in college with him, before the two of you had even dated and when you were both pretending you were nothing more than best friends. He'd always said it was like a lullaby to a baby. "I felt you."

But he didn't want to hear it now, and something dark and incendiary inside him screamed that you were lying - that there was no logical scenario where you were okay with how he looked.

"Don't patronize me," his voice snapped into something dark, holes flaring out again and spreading to almost encompass him in darkness, almost like a shield. "Don't. I know what I look like. I might not have eyes but I can see. I can see that I look like…a fucking freak. An abomination."

You couldn't imagine what he was feeling. There was no lying to him, he was a reasonable, intelligent man - he knew that this form was not what anyone would describe as perfect and was certainly not what you had fallen in love with, and there was nothing you could say that would convince him otherwise.

"You look like something tragic happened to you," your voice was unfaltering, the delicate tone coaxing him into the relaxation he used to always feel with you. "But I don't care what you look like, and I never have."

"It's not like a bad haircut or weight gain, Atom," he snapped. The vulnerability he was displaying was difficult to navigate as there was truly never someone to go through what he was…there was no anecdote to help him. These days, his default setting was anger.

Anger was better than anything else.

"I'm hideous. Look at me."

"I am," you said quietly, your voice dropping to just above a whisper. You looked right in his face, unwaveringly. He longed to kiss you more than ever before. "I'm looking right at you, Jonny."

That quieted him as he lost himself in the tranquility of you - you were the only one who had ever understood him enough to walk him through the difficult emotions and that was still true, even with his sorrow and rage felt and expressed tenfold. He'd thought so before, always known so with no scientific way to prove it until now…you were made for him.

And him alone.

"My Jonny."

Before he could register the movement your hands were resting on his chest and the walls he was trying to built crumbled, the spots essentially exploding into dozens of smaller ones all across his body, avoiding where your hands rested. As you lightly stroked your fingertips there they merged again to several larger, relatively heart shaped blobs.

He hadn't felt a gentle human touch since the incident, and he'd never thought he'd feel your touch again. If it was possible, he could have died on the spot. It was obvious that he was lost for a moment, forgetting the danger he presented to you, forgetting to maintain control.

But only for a moment, the horrors ever present.

After temporarily losing himself in the haze of feeling your touch again his shaking hands flew out, grasping your waist tight as his breathing came in heavy, concentrated breaths. Instead of letting him retreat within himself you stepped closer, hands slipping as close to his shoulders as you could reach.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," you said quietly, already teaching yourself how to get used to looking up into his face and not seeing his eyes. "And here you are."

"I lost everything," the vulnerability was shining through more as he opened himself to you again, almost having to reteach himself for a moment that you were someone he could share his emotions with. "My dream job…gone. My body…which was no temple to begin with but now I'm just this…this thing. I lost…I lost you. My dream girl…my everything. I lost my everything."

He saw the pain flashing in your eyes as you listened to him - as you empathized as you always had, your heart connected to his.

"You found me again," your voice was breaking again as you spoke, desperate for him to understand that all the times you'd said you'd love him no matter what you'd meant it. "I'm right here."

You moved your arms lower to wrap around his waist, stepping closer - but he ripped himself from you the moment you were close to connecting your head to his torso, the holes once again flaring in fear.

"No!" he shouted, immediately kicking himself for shouting at you. He took a deep breath to steady himself, swallowing hard as he calmed his emotions enough to speak again without lashing out. "You can't…the spots…the holes…"

Your brow pulled together like it always had when you were feeling inquisitive and you only sought to close the distance between the two of you again, stepping forward as you took in every inch of him.

"Holes?"

"They're portals," he explained, suddenly feeling self conscious about himself in ways he hadn't experienced since his one attempt at a high school dance. "I'm still figuring out how they work…and I don't want to lose you. I could really…really lose you."

He had missed this expression on you - when you were so deep in thought it was obvious your full focus was on solving the puzzle presented to you. He'd thought of this long ago and come to the conclusion that you would want to study him - to understand him more.

He wasn't sure he was ready to be the experiment under your scrutiny. But he was certain he could never be away from you again.

"Portals to where?"

"Everywhere," just like a doctor and patient, you were asking questions, formulating a hypothesis, he was providing the data. How many times had the two of you lived this scenario? Was now really so different? He remembered how you used to look at him in amazement…your expression now was truly no different than it ever had been. "Sometimes just back through another portal. Sometimes to other dimensions to other…universes. I've gotten lost and…I'd never forgive myself if you fell through. You can't be close to me."

"You just need to learn how to control them."

"I can't," he breathed out, his words exasperated with a break in the middle to accentuate it. It was all he could manage - it was all he had to.

"You can," it wasn't a tone full of false hope, it was decisive and resolute - you believed he could, and with your belief, he would try. "It's just another thing to learn, and you're the smartest man I know."

Before he could react to your sudden movements you closed the distance between the two of you again, sticking your hand through one of the holes in his arm with a deep breath.

"Hey -!"

Almost instantly your hand reappeared through his chest and a sigh of relief ripped through him, a puzzled smile spreading across your face as you wiggled your fingers. "Intriguing," he swore he could hear a familiar purr behind your words, and he had to wonder if you were trying to distract him from the complex mix of emotions he was experiencing. "How unique."

"You…you mean how freakish," he attempted to correct, focused on the feeling of you reaching into him. "This uhm…this has to be weird."

"You've stuck fingers in me," you defended, the playful tone in your voice one of the exact things he'd missed. Then again, in truth, he'd missed everything about you, even the parts he once didn't love.

"Atom…"

You pulled your hand back through him which earned another relieved sigh from his chest, his nervous breaths returning as you wrapped your arms around his torso again, your head finding a rightful position lying against his chest.

"Just hold me. You'd never let yourself lose me."

Your faith in him was misguided and foolish, the love you felt for him clouding your mind from the horror that you held in your arms - he was convinced of it. He froze, unwilling to give into even the slightest movement that would create a domino effect, unwilling to do anything to increase the risk he posed to you.

But seconds passed without incident until he'd been allowing you to hold onto him for several minutes. You were still here, still against him, still warming him up in ways he had longed to feel again for what had already felt like an eternity. Slowly, his arms circled you, pulling you slightly closer, clutching to you like you might still disappear at any moment.

As the minutes ticked away his arms got tighter and tighter, his hands resting on your lower back like you were made of porcelain.

"You kept all of my stuff…"

His voice was still so unsure, like he felt he was intruding…like he didn't belong here, in his own home. Like he didn't deserve to be holding you again. You nuzzled into him further in response, your hands flattening against his back to hold him against you tighter.

"I could never get rid of anything that makes me think of you," you whispered, eyes closed as you soaked in the moment, feelings both familiar and new.

"I haven't…laid in a bed since…"

He trailed off and you could feel the energy around him darken - you knew anger was a secondary emotion and in this instance it followed unimaginable hurt.

"Come to bed with me," you weren't asking, it was an instruction - voice unwavering and unquestioning. You looked up into his face again, and it was just like it had always been - you looked at him like you loved him.

"But why would you…ah -"

You really didn't mind the new height, in fact him towering over you more than ever before was causing other feelings that weren't quite appropriate for this sweet lovers' reunion, but it did make standing on your tiptoes more obsolete than ever, your lips barely reaching his chest. His words were cut off, a whine taking their place when your lips connected with his skin. He melted like it was the first time you kissed him, any residual panic withdrawing further into him as he held you tighter.

You felt the shift in his energy and smiled against him as you pressed more kisses wherever you could reach, mindful when you approached a spot, lips continuing to brush against him as you spoke.

"If you get into bed with me I can kiss more of you," "You're so tall now, Jonny. Can't reach."

One thing that hadn't changed was his complete willingness to obey you, to give in to your every request, to fulfill every instruction…it continued to be true as he scrambled into the bed, nearly groaning at the familiar feeling of his pillow and the sheets you'd insisted they needed again. The seconds that passed with him alone - with him getting used to his new height in the bed he once fit comfortably in, getting used to controlling the holes (when was the last time he'd laid down?).

But when you climbed into the bed beside him, the anxieties vanished. You moved as close to him as you could, one of your hands delicately resting on his torso while the other reached to his face, stroking your thumb across his cheek delicately.

It was the kind of moment where your eyes close in serenity, and somewhere inside him he felt it. Maybe he was a fool for thinking this could last, but with the multiverse at his fingertips, he'd always reach out to you.

All of the versions of you were meant to be his.

And they would be.

masterlist. marvel masterlist.

[solradguy]

Ok now that I’ve got the next ~8 days off, here’s what I wanna get done, roughly in order I’ll be doing them in:

IMPORTANT STUFF //

Things I have deadlines for that I can’t ignore this upcoming week. The Patreon components here are easy things I will be able to do in less than a day, but still important. 

Patreon thing 01 - Timelapse video 

Patreon thing 02 -  July sketchbook post

GG White Day zine piece - Wanna finish the sketch, ink, and start on the flat colors so August can be focused on the shading. 

Patreon thing 03 - August sticker design sketches

FANDOM STUFF //

Scanlation projects and other stuff without deadlines.

Izuna’s GG2OMC short story - Next one in line. I want to get the text OCR’d into a document and then translated. Just needs translated now.

Translate the captions for the Ky and I-No illustrations from the GGX2k2k7 art book that have been sitting in my drafts since I posted the acrylic/gouache Daisuke masterpost.

Scan a bunch of new pages from the GGX2k2k7 book and get the captions ready for translating. 

Clean up the GDoc (and tumblr posts) for these translations and re-do the old ones that don’t match the quality of my more recent translations. There aren’t many of those left, maybe 3 or 4. 

Get Dr. Paradigm’s GG2OMC story OCR’d. I’d like to get it translated too, but these stories take about an entire work day to do so I’m not gonna push myself if I end up doing other projects instead. 

Finish coding the gallery page for the GGX2k2k7 scanlations on my Neocities? - No idea how hard this will be. The basic framework is laid out but I need to figure out how many images I can slap on a single page (maybe 50 images per page? about 150 total counting 2-page spreads as one “page”) before it gets really unwieldy and how to make the page aesthetically pleasing. Without an on-site search engine, I’ll need to think about how to put together a directory for the illustrations. There is actually some sort of order for them in that art book, but it’s esoteric and I haven’t sat down and really figured it out yet. 

If I get all this done -- BIG if -- I might start OCR’ing Lightning the Argent too. I found an OCR a while ago that handles the vertical R>L format Japanese text beautifully. It’s going to go much more smoothly than Begin did. So annoying Bookwalker’s DRM on these ebooks is a friggin iron jaw but whatever. I’ll find a way. 

(OCR = Optical Character Recognition; scans the text from images into characters I can edit/type around in a text document. It makes working with Japanese way easier and saves time when I don’t know a specific kanji) 

- update 8/3

[c-e-d-dreamer]

For AU Day for @nessianweek I thought I’d test out this College AU that’s been bouncing around my brain because I’m College AU trash that I’m considering writing a proper/chaptered fic for. Hope you enjoy! :) 

Most days, University of Prythian feels like every other public college. All brooding brick buildings and precisely placed green spaces and students loudly milling about in droves. A group of frat boys throwing around a frisbee on the common. A group of girls in bikinis tops taking advantage of the late August sun. Shouts of “oh my god, hey” and “how was your summer” just barely drowning out crying parents dropping their kids off. It’s migraine inducing. 

Nesta throws the car into park, the old Chevy only groaning slightly as it settles after the trek up to campus. She hears the doors open and close, but she just grips the wheel and closes her eyes, taking in three steadying breaths and hoping the oxygen can find a way to calm her spiking blood. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It’s a new year. After everything that happened last year, technically up should be the only direction. She hopes. Once Nesta feels like she has a hold of her frayed nerves, she slides out of the driver’s seat to find Feyre already excitedly pulling her bags from the trunk, settling them on the pavement next to the car. Elain comes up beside their youngest sister, pulling her own suitcases out. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off closer to your dorm, Elain?” 

“I’m in Oakwood this year. It’s not that far a walk.” 

Nesta nods, grabbing the last of Feyre’s bags and closing the trunk. Before Elain can wheel off with her bags, Feyre’s wrapping an arm around each of her sisters’ shoulders, a wide smile plastered across her face under her U of P baseball cap. 

“The Archeron sisters are back together again!” 

“Well, until Nesta graduates,” Elain reminds Feyre. 

“Maybe she’ll do a fifth year, just for us.” 

Nesta just raises an eyebrow at her sisters’ antics. A fifth year? Impossible. Not only because she takes her studies very seriously, keeping her GPA well above the average, but because the idea of spending an extra, unnecessary year in this place sounds like her own personal circle of hell. The sooner she can finish her degree and get on with the rest of her life, the better. 

“Alright,�� Feyre concedes. “Bad suggestion.” 

With a wave and a promise to meet up for dinner later, Elain is off towards Oakwood Hall. Nesta hoists one of Feyre’s duffle bags onto her shoulder, following her youngest sister toward her own dorm hall. As she steps up onto the sidewalk, though, her shoulder collides with a firm body, Feyre’s bag almost falling out of her grip. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going,” Nesta seethes. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” a voice calls in return, already swallowed up by the groups of students moving in and out of the dorm hall. 

Nesta rolls her eyes at the saccharine nickname, resettling the duffle on her shoulder and catching up to Feyre. Her sister’s dorm reminds Nesta of her own freshmen dorm from back in the day, simple and small, all white walls and plain wood furniture. Despite the things already in the room, Feyre’s roommate is nowhere to be seen. 

“Do you need help with anything else?” Nesta asks, dropping the bag she had been holding onto Feyre’s bed. 

“I should be good. Orientation starts in a few hours.” 

A moment passes as the two sisters stare at one another. They aren’t exactly the most affectionate of families, hugging and that sort of thing. So with a small nod and smile, Nesta is on her way, back out of the dorm hall and to her car. 

Luckily, the off campus apartment she’s staying in this year isn’t that long a drive, and when she walks through the door, Emerie is already inside, leaning against their kitchen counter, a fork poised between her fingers and what looks like a slice of chocolate cake perched on a plate. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Emerie drawls, but the smile tugging at the corner of her lips gives away the teasing nature. 

“Hope you brought enough to share,” Nesta replies, eying up Emerie’s plate. 

“Do I look like I’m made of money? Go to the dining hall and get your own.” 

“When’s Gwyn meant to get in?” 

“Not until later this week. I’m surprised you’re on campus this early.” 

“Feyre has orientation this week. Plus I need to hit up the bookstore. I have Williams this semester.” 

“That man seriously needs to get that stick out of his ass when it comes to having the “right edition” for his class.” 

“Tell me about it,” Nesta sighs, sneaking her hand into the utensils drawer and then snagging a bite of Emerie’s cake before the female has a chance to react. 

“Hey!” Emerie calls after Nesta as she retreats to her room. “You’re lucky I like you, Nesta Archeron!” 

~ * * * ~

The campus bookstore is mostly filled with parents and baby-faced freshmen trying to decide which University of Prythian gear to spend all their money on, but once Nesta pushes back to where the shelves of textbooks live, the throngs of bodies thin out. She can’t help but run her finger along the spines of the books, all lined perfectly along the shelves. Each spine is a different color, a different texture, bold or curvy font declaring its title to the world, and while many are textbooks, that feel under her fingers is still a comfort. Like a heartbeat lives between the soft linen pages and beats in time with her own. 

A turn around the corner and Nesta finds the section of books she needs. She scans the different titles, and when her eyes finally land on the one she needs, she can’t help the long sigh that looses from her lungs. Of course, it’s on the very top shelf. Nesta reaches her arm up, stretching up onto her tip-toes until the pads of her fingers just brush the spine of the book, trying to inch the book closer to the edge where she could get it down. 

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

Nesta falls back on her heels in surprise, the voice and nickname snagging on her memory. She whips her head around to find a guy leaning against the shelf, arms crossed casually across his chest and a smug smile plastered across his face. He’s tall with broad shoulders, dark curls pulled into a bun at the back of his head. Nesta’s eyes can’t help but snag on the lines of ink dancing across the skin of his arms and peeking out of the open cuts of his bro-tank. When her eyes dance back to his face, his hazel eyes are alight like he had clocked and was delighted in what she had been doing. It makes her brain crash back into action, a scowl settling easily across her features. 

“You were the one who bumped into me earlier. Outside of Somerset Hall.” 

“That was you?” the guy asks, not even being subtle as he checks Nesta out. “My apologies. Let me make it up to you by taking you out to dinner.” 

Nesta doesn’t even deen that with a response. With a scoff, she turns back toward the front of the bookstore. She can come back later for the book she needs, ideally when this insufferable man with his cocky grins and overconfidence is nowhere to be seen. As she weaves her way through the shelves and toward the exit, she pointedly ignores the heavy set of footsteps she can hear trailing behind her. 

“At least tell me your name.” 

“No.” 

“No? Well that’s definitely an interesting name. My name’s Cassian by the way.” 

“I don’t recall asking.” 

“You didn’t have to. Your eyes were asking for you.” 

That has Nesta halting in her steps. She whirls around and clearly her sudden stop has this Cassian thrown off, his own steps stumbling. Good. She likes having the upperhand. 

“Does that line actually work for you?” 

“Actually, I usually have to use less words. My ruggedly handsome looks do all the talking.” 

“Rugged? Sure. But handsome?” Nesta pointedly rakes her eyes down his figure, and when they meet back with hazel, Cassian’s cock-sure grin slips the barest hint at the corner. “I don’t think so. You looked like you crawled out of a dumpster.” 

Nesta expects his smile to fall fully at the jab, and she hopes it’s enough for him to leave her alone, but instead that smile is still stubbornly there. Even worse, it twists and shifts into a smirk, like this is all some kind of fun game. It makes Nesta’s heart give an extra kick in her chest, and before she can even think about dwelling on what that means, she turns on her heel. 

“Goodbye, Cassian.” 

“Goodbye, sweetheart.” 

~ * * * ~

On Thursday, Nesta finds herself at the dining hall. It’s a little late for breakfast and too early for lunch, so luckily the place is blessedly not too crowded, just a few pockets of students talking and laughing at various tables. She’s standing in front of the pastry display when her phone starts buzzing incessantly, and she slides it out of her pocket to find Feyre going off in their sister group chat. 

I just met the most attractive man I have ever seen

I’m not fucking around. HIS FACE 

And he called me darling

He asked me to drinks tomorrow night!

“I personally prefer the blueberry muffins.” 

Nesta snaps her attention to her left to find Cassian standing there, that same wide and cocky grin from the bookstore settled across his face. His hair is down today, soft curls framing his face and brushing against his cotton tee covered shoulders. 

“You again,” Nesta sighs. 

“Isn’t it funny how we keep meeting?” 

“Funny isn’t the word I would use.”

“It’s almost like the Universe keeps pushing us together.”

“Or you’re stalking me.” 

“Maybe you’re stalking me,” Cassian says, tossing a wink Nesta’s way. 

“And why would I do that?” 

“I thought we already established the fact I’m ruggedly handsome?” 

“Pretty sure the only thing we’ve established is that you’re full of yourself.” 

Nesta turns and snags one of the wrapped chocolate chip muffins out of the display case, fully prepared to end this conversation and enjoy her snack in peace. 

“You forgot something the other day, you know.” 

Nesta looks back toward Cassian where he has an outstretched hand between them. There, clutched between his fingers, is the book she went to the campus bookstore to pick up. She blinks a few times at the wide script proclaiming Art Through the Ages, the cogs in her brain tripping over one another and trying to comprehend the sight before her. Her hand begins to reach out to take the book before she snaps it back to her side, her eyes locking back on Cassian’s face. 

“You got the book I needed?” 

“The perfect excuse to find and talk to you again.” 

“Well, I can’t accept it.” 

“Then you can Venmo me,” Cassian says, leaning into Nesta’s space and pressing the book into her hands. “And your Venmo will have your name, won’t it? So it’s a win-win.” 

This close up, Nesta can see all the green vines and gold flecks that make up his hazel eyes. The way his nose sits just off kilter like it’s been broken and set not quite right and the stubble pushing through along his jawline. She can feel the warmth that seems to radiate off his person in rolling waves. It’s a bit overwhelming. 

“It’s Nesta,” she offers, taking a step back. 

“Nesta,” Cassian says, like he’s testing the weight of her name on his tongue. “Well, Nesta, how about that dinner? The offer still stands. Or we could skip straight to dessert.” 

Nesta lets out a snort at the comment. She’s sure the sound isn’t particularly attractive, but she can’t help it. The audacity of this man. 

“Only in your dreams,” Nesta quips, turning on her heel and heading toward the register to pay for her muffin. 

“Is that a promise?”

She pretends she doesn’t hear him as she swipes her meal card and makes for the dining hall exit. She can feel Cassian’s eyes tracking her the whole way. 

Later, when Nesta gets back to her room and is thumbing through Art Through the Ages, she finds a note folded up between the pages. She opens up the paper to find an unfamiliar scrawl, simple black lines spelling out ‘Cassian’ and ten digits. She hesitates for only a moment before crumbling it up and tossing it in the trash. 

~ * * * ~

Classes start up on Monday, and Nesta is ready to throw herself back into her books, notes, and work. She has a jammed packed schedule this semester, knocking out the rest of her general education credit requirements needed to graduate on time. The perfect distraction to keep her mind busy. At least, she was able to squeeze in enough classes that actually interest her, including a course on Early Women Writers. 

On Tuesday, she walks into the science building and her chemistry class. She finds a lab table a few spots back from the front, settling onto one of the stools. She pulls her textbook and laptop from her bag and is just typing in her laptop password when she feels a presence behind her. 

“I guess I should thank you for coming through on your promise. The best dreams I’ve ever had.” 

Nesta can’t stop the pained sigh that pulls its way out her lungs. She rubs a hand down her face before turning to the right, just in time to find Cassian sliding into the stool beside her. He has another cotton tee on, his hair once again pulled up into a bun style. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking this class.” 

Cassian reaches into his backpack and pulls out his own chemistry textbook, holding it up as some sort of proof. 

“The Universe strikes again.” 

“So you keep saying, but clearly the Universe has bad taste.” 

Cassian throws his head back and laughs at the comment, surprising Nesta with his reaction and earning them a few curious looks from the rest of the class. The sound is deep and warm, seeming to radiate from deep within his chest. His shoulders shake like his large frame isn’t enough to contain the sound, and Nesta finds herself staring at the crinkles that appear beside his eyes. 

“Alright, class. Welcome to chemistry.” 

A hush falls over the whole room as the professor strides in the door and to the front of the room. She hands a small stack of syllabus sheets to each person sitting at the front to be passed back and a blank seating chart to fill in is passed between the tables. The professor goes through the syllabus for much of the allotted class time, and Nesta makes notes in the margins of hers about the grading system and circles the important deadlines she’ll need to remember. 

“I hope you’re comfortable with where you’re sitting and who you’re sitting with,” the professor addresses the class an hour later. “They’ll be your lab partner for the rest of the semester.” 

Nesta wants to groan as she buries her face in her hands. How did this become her life? As if simply seeing Cassian’s insufferable face three times a week for this class isn’t enough, now they actually have to interact and work with one another. If Cassian’s theory about this being the Universe's doing is correct, Nesta is pretty sure the Universe is just laughing in her face now. 

“Well, would you look at that, Nes,” Cassian drawls from beside her. “Another point for the Universe.” 

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” Nesta mutters from between her fingers. 

“As long as we get to cuddle a little beforehand.” 

“Cute,” Nesta says, putting as much dry sarcasm as she can behind the single word. 

“You know, lab partner,” Cassian offers while he stands up and slings his backpack across his shoulders. “I think it’s going to be a great semester.”

[1252291]

(y/n) has no idea how she ended up getting roped into paperwork, but it’s boring and she’d rather do something else. same world / backstory as from this original fic. 

MINORS DNI. i’ll fight u just put em up!!

word count: 2.7k. disclaimer/warnings: thigh humping, not sfw. 

a/n: well well well...if it isn’t me again. this is unedited as are most of my works. if you see something wrong, slide into my dms! if you have a request, slide into my inbox!!! honestly i don’t know how to write anything short, or how to edit before i post. oops. 

The day felt agonizingly long. The sun was barely at the peak of the sky, filtering through the opened windows across the two desks that sat on opposite sides of the room.

She’d swore she would never make it so far up the ranks that she needed to do paperwork, and she hadn’t, but her boyfriend had. Somehow, he’d managed to rope her into filling out the easier paperwork for him. [y/n] couldn’t even recall having a conversation about it; she’d found herself sitting across from him in a comfortable chair one day, filling out paperwork just to help–then next, she had her own desk nested in the corner of his office.

Check. Check. Check. She scanned the paper over once more before she flipped it.

Across the room Levi was writing. His hand gliding across the paper in a messy speed as ink sunk into blank spaces. He would stop occasionally and listen to [y/n]’s occasional soft sighs before continuing on.

They sat like that for a little longer before the familiar sound of [Y/N]’s chair creaking caught his attention and he snuck a look over his shoulder towards her standing figure. Her arms were stretched high above her head, her eyes squeezed shut before she relaxed.

“Done?”

[y/n] startled a little, coming out of the slight daze the silence had put her in. “Not even close.”

Her arms slung around his shoulders lazily after she approached him, her body leaned against the back of his chair as she looked over his shoulder. “What’re you working on?”

“A request for allowances from the King for some experiment Hange wants to do.” He didn’t know how they’d managed to persuade him into writing it.

“Mm. Sounds boring.”

If they hadn’t been in his office, he wouldn’t have relaxed into her touch the way that he was. He was melting into the way her fingers had risen to absently play with his hair while her eyes darted across the paper he’d been working on. His grip loosened around his pen, choosing to pay her more attention than his work for a fleeting moment. It wasn’t often Levi allowed himself to get distracted.

“You should take a break,” she broke the silence again, then pressed her lips to his cheek in a quick peck before she was standing up straight again, almost expectant that he push away from the desk and stand up himself. When he didn’t, she frowned and tugged the back of the chair a little. “Levi.”

His hand had gripped the pen again, a few unimportant words sketched across the paper (bound to be scratched out when his concentration picked up again). “Later.”

[y/n] didn’t respond, at least not verbally. Instead, she wrapped her fingers around the base of the chairs backrest and pulled with her body weight, sliding the legs slightly across the wooden floor with a horrible screech.

“Oi,” Levi grumbled, trying to hook his foot around one of the legs to pull himself back to his desk, but she was quicker; she’d swung her leg around his body and planted herself firmly on his lap facing him. He shouldn’t have been surprised at the speed of her actions, but his lips were still slightly agape as he looked up at her.

“Take a break with me,” she affirmed, smiling softly as her fingers nimbly pressed under his chin to guide his mouth back shut. “You’re gonna catch flies.”

“Tch.”

He flung his pen back towards his desk, not taking his gaze away from her. “You said you weren’t–”

[y/n] pressed her lips to his while her hands settled on his shoulders. It was a quick kiss, leaving her smiling slightly against him. “What?”

He took a deep breath, feigned annoyance in the way that she had torn him away from his work. “Dis–” She’d cut him off again, this time with a longer kiss as her right hand fell away from his shoulder and instead came to play with the short strands of his undercut. He needs to cut his hair soon and would, despite her previous protests to let it grow out a little. She liked the sounds he made when she tugged the short strands near the nape of his neck. Right now, he was unwilling to give her the pleasure of the sounds, though they rested uncomfortably in his chest.

Maybe he was weak willed when it came to her and bent himself to satisfy her desires, but he wouldn’t admit to it. Levi was a man that had firm beliefs and ambitions that couldn’t be swayed once he made a decision. Once he overheard somebody having a conversation about the two of them: They’d wondered how she could stay with somebody uncompromising–not knowing that more often than not, he’d convinced himself that her ideas were his own, so that he could divulge in them entirely.

That’s exactly what he was doing when one of his hands rested on her waist, while his other hand came to rest against her jaw as his head tilted upwards to return the slow kiss. [y/n] sighed into his mouth, not knowing that the action would have Levi’s lips pulling away from hers, only to drop to the crook of her neck to press short, soft kisses to her skin.

“Five minutes.”

He was bending.

“Alright,” she breathed, head tilting away slightly to grant him more access to her neck, which he took without complaint.

Levi’s lips trailed down the exposed skin, moving to her collarbones before stopping short of where her top started, along with the harness. His hand left her face to pull the offending fabric away as far as it would go to press another kiss to the skin. He didn’t have to look at her to know that she was smiling.

[y/n]’s eyes were lazy, fingers barely scratching at the back of his neck. Her gaze drifted towards the open window, and she felt the dread that came with the reality sinking in: He only gave them five minutes, and they had to be sitting there for three now. In two, he’d press her hips up to guide her off and go back to work because he always kept to his word.

If she didn’t want to go back to mind numbing boredom…

One minute passed.

Before anything could be said, [y/n] pressed her fingers up into the longer strands of his hair, ignoring the way Levi was still being soft with his kisses. He’d been distracted enough that when she pulled his hair hard, he was complaint. He grunted softly, teeth slightly bared from the pain and surprise of her movements.

He didn’t have time to ask her what she was doing before her lips were against his again, this time with a kiss filled with fever. [y/n] slid one of her legs from where it had nestled against one side of his hips.

Levi assumed that she was going to get up and tightened his grip on her waist to aid her, only to exhale in surprise when she dropped her weight on top of him again, this time straddling only one of his legs. He knew her well enough that he started to slide further down the seat until she was able to fit her leg perfectly between his without the chair being in the way.

“You’re out of time,” he warned, breaking contact and turning his head, trying to ignore the way sloppy kisses were being left down his jaw. “Go back to work.” But it was weak willed, and his hands hadn’t moved away from her.

When [y/n] gripped his jaw loosely, he’d turned his head willingly to look up at her. Her smile was faint, and she bumped her nose against his before she spoke softly, “do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

She pouted for a second before her lips spread into a soft smile again, her own gaze lingering on the way his lips pressed into a line after he’d spoken.

While he knew her, she also knew him. She didn’t bother with dropping her hands to the belts on his upper-thigh to undo them, knowing he would protest the second she tried; it would take too long to undo and redo things. He wanted to get back to work because he’d said he was only going to take a five minute break, and wouldn’t extend it anywhere past ten willingly.

So she lifted her hips and settled back on top of the belts. When she rolled her hips and dragged her core against his thigh, she watched Levi’s lips part again and listened to the way he exhaled air he hadn’t realized he was holding.

[Y/N] dropped her hand back from his jaw to his shoulder, keeping the grip to steady herself as she started to move her hips against him. His grip tightened on her hips. Now that he was free to move without her holding onto his jaw and forcing him to look up at her, he started to settle against the chair. Only his upper back was touching the back of the chair, while his gaze was dropped to where she was riding his thigh.

His gaze was heavily lidded and his cheeks were flushed slightly. His cock twitched inside his uniform as blood slowly rushed towards it, but he seemed content in watching her.

[y/n] whimpered, but he swore it sounded like his name. 

“You gonna get off like this?” His voice was low and his eyes met with hers when she’d looked up at him, but she didn’t say anything. “Tch. You are, aren’t you?”

Her lips were parted slightly but her moans were soundless, accompanied only by the way she was panting. [y/n] nodded, dropping her head a little when she felt his grip tighten against her hips and start to guide the speed that her hips were moving.

“Levi,” she purred, feeling herself heating up slowly. Despite the layers of clothes between them, the familiar ache was unmistakable; her pussy slowly getting wetter the more times she moved against his thigh, the belts adding just that much more to the familiar sensation.

Levi’s head lulled, his gaze heavy, feeling the way she was fighting to move her hips on her own accord. She wanted to move faster, but his grip was keeping her from it and he refused to let up.

“Fuck,” he muttered, unable to help himself when his own hips rolled up. All the movement did was catch [y/n]’s attention, and draw it towards where the crotch of his pants were tented, cock twitching with pre-cum inside of his boxers. Her lips were parted with the soft moans that escaped–a kind distraction from how she was readjusting, intent with pressing her own thigh further up to give any sort of friction back.

Experimentally, she rolled her hips again, smiling when Levi groaned and rolled his hips up to meet hers.

The belts were a slight irritant, gripping around her upper-thigh each time she pressed them against Levi, but she was unwilling to even try to fumble with them–too desperate to chase the high that was building inside of her.

They moved against each other, muttering each other’s names quietly with each movement. Suddenly, [y/n]’s hips were stuttering against Levi’s, desperate to chase the flash of white that had started spreading through her like fire. “Levi. Please–” Her hand dropped to cover one of his that had held her in the even rhythm, trying to will him into letting her chase what she desperately craved. His grip loosened a bit, and she barely muttered a thanks when he had leaned forward to wrap an arm around her waist, mouth barely ghosting her ear as he spoke.

“What a whore. You’re gonna cum just like this, aren’t you?”

[Y/N] gasped, nodding quickly, rolling her hips with more intent as her covered clit dragged against a part of his belts. She kept her movements short but fast, whining softly as the metal buckle pressed against her, pulling her into her high.

“That’s all it takes, huh? So desperate for me that you’ll take any part of me.”

She couldn’t speak, dropping to muffle her cries in the crook of his neck. Undoubtedly there were others in their offices not far away, and she wouldn’t dare bring attention to what was happening inside of Levi’s this early in the day.

[y/n] felt her pussy flutter, clenching around nothing, desperate to be full of Levi’s cock and milking it. She stuttered a little, whining as her hips started to slow as her high was beginning to dissipate, sending shocks through her body the more she tried to keep going. Levi’s lips pressed against the side of her head. Though she couldn’t see him, or even feel it, he was smiling as he did it.

“Good girl,” he breathed, before he was starting to get up with his arm still wrapped around her waist. [y/n] tried to drop her wobbly legs to the ground, but he held one up with his free hand, hoisting her up on the desk that had been behind her. His arm unwrapped from around her as he settled between her legs and pulled her closer to the edge of the desk with his hands on her thighs.

Her hand made contact with the desk, accidentally pushing some of the papers that had been sitting there onto the ground as she tried to grip the wood to steady herself. Levi pressed his clothed erection against her sensitive core, still holding her hips still so even when her body wiggled up in protest, she wasn’t able to move away.

She was sensitive. His hooded eyes met hers, looking for a flash of permission that came in the way she smiled softly at him and nodded before moving herself a bit further off the desk and towards his aching body.

Levi dragged his hips forward, pressing his hard cock against her and moving with feverish speed that drew soft whimpers from her and left his jaw slack with his own moans.

“Fuck, [y/n],” he muttered, slamming his hips against her a few times before he went back to grinding them. His eyes shut, images of the way she looked when they fucked only a few days prior still fresh in his memory; the way she’d taken his cock so willingly, crying his name into one of their pillows, and begging for him to fill her up with his cum. He had half the mind to pull away and tear at the offending belts that kept him from fucking her properly. When his eyes opened, it was because he felt her fingers barely grazing his cheek, and he’d started to learn into the touch.

“Am I good for you?” she whispered, voice filled to the brim with affection and want. Her fingers pressed sweaty locks away from his forehead before her hand fell to his shirt and pulled him forward to kiss her. It was rushed, barely a kiss with the way he was breathing into her mouth.

“So good,” he answered, barely kissing her again with open lips. When she licked into his mouth, he groaned, trying to follow when she pulled away slightly.

“Then cum for me.”

It shocked him how easily he had reached his peak with her demand, his balls tightening before his release painted the inside of his pants. Levi groaned, still moving his hips against her until his cock was twitching but releasing nothing more, and he was forced to stop and pull away. 

When his hands dropped to either side of her body, his head hung too. He watched as she squirmed underneath him, shifting until she was able to sit up properly on the desk. Her fingers skirted over his top, feeling the way his body still reacted to her touch and willingly followed. When her lips pressed against the crown of his head then pulled away, he looked up at her with a smile. 

[y/n]’s eyes were full of love when she returned the look. “Guess I’ll get back to work now, hm?”

Levi didn’t say anything, but wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling warmth spread across his chest when she wrapped her arms around his frame too. They stayed like that for a few minutes, breathing, trying to let the moment settle. 

[marichat-verse]

Mist Memories

Leo Valdez x reader for his birthday ahhhh (even though it's angsty) with a platonic/developing jason x reader cameo at the end (lmao im sorry i couldn't help myself 😭)

Based on this picture I found in pinterest + also [kinda] based on traitor by olivia rodrigo and omg i really recommend u guys listen to this edit because it reminds me so much of this fic that's been stuck in my head for MONTHS also kind of a run away with me prologue lol

Your POV

I nervously made my way across the forest until I reached a limestone cliff. I knocked on the iron door, not really expecting to get an answer.

My boyfriend has been shutting himself in Bunker 9 for the past few weeks. I stood there counting up to seven before knocking again. I knocked again two more times, until he answered in the middle of my last knock.

He removed his goggles and winced as sunlight hit his eyes. He'd grown thinner and paler, making the dark circles in his eyes more pronounced.

"Oh, Leo..." I reached out to brush a few strands of hair away from his face, but he moved away.

"What are you doing here?" He said in a monotone voice.

I moved to walk inside the Bunker, brushing off his hesitation to let me in. "I'm your partner, remember? And I'm really concerned because you're shutting yourself out lately. You know everyone's starting to worry about you. Percy asked me to check on you because you missed pegasus riding with him. Oh, and I'm pretty sure Jason's coming back from Camp Jupiter soon. I was hoping you and Annabeth could be with Piper while Percy and I hung out with Jason because it's been a little awkward since their breakup. Plus Piper wanted to tell you something—"

"Please," he said forcefully causing me to stop and look at him. "Just... Get out."

Normally, he'd shut himself from the world for a few days to work on an important project or because he was feeling really sad and he needed space. But this was getting out of hand. He had never locked me out of his life when I offered to help him. He was never this mean when he asked for space. I was not having this attitude of his.

"Okay, Leo. I tried to play nice. What is so important that you blow off all your friends for nearly a month that you can't even tell your partner, or maybe say hi to your best friend who's coming back from the other side of the country?"

He didn't say anything. He pursed his lips and avoided eye contact. I scanned he room for any signs.

It was messier than usual with all the crumpled paper scattered on the floor, especially on his desk. He could have been drawing up new plans. Something in my gut told me that something wasn't right. There were no new unfinished projects, indicating that he wasn't starting a new invention. Harley's helicopter lay on his bench in the same state it was weeks ago. Huh, not even his siblings could enter the Bunker.

I turned and Leo was already changing Festus' oil. I took this moment of distraction to pick up a few pieces of crumpled paper on the floor and on his desk. I had to process the words a bit longer—too long that Leo took notice. Damn dyslexia.

I heard footsteps speed up behind me, but it was too late. I read enough and got the gist of what he had been trying to do these past few weeks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He yelled at me. Small embers started to erupt between his curls.

I laughed dryly. "So this is what you've been up to?"

His fists tightened, further crumpling the paper in his hands. His eyes flashed with anger, despair and confusion.

I sighed and focused my eyes on his desk, not daring to look at him any longer. Under some pieces of paper were old photographs of him and Piper from Wilderness School. Yup, those definitely were the mist memories she had with Jason. I read the latest draft he'd been writing:

Dear Piper,

Remember the mist memories from boarding school with Jason? They were real, but they were with me.

I miss you. I miss when it was just us. I miss the night on the roof.

Yours truly,

Leo Valdez

I tried to keep my voice from cracking. "How long?"

I heard him sigh. "Three weeks."

I balled my fists. Tears started to fall and smudge the ink. I wiped them away as fast as they came.

"How?"

"In a dream," his tone softened now. "Hera came to me in a dream and told me to check an old drawer in Bunker 9. I found the photos and the memories came rushing back."

"How long were you dating back then?"

"Two weeks."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Silence; then a deep breath.

"No."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because I knew you'd get upset like—"

"I meant why would you throw away months of our relationship for a couple of weeks of your relationship with her? And without even bothering to tell me? Gods damn it, Leo. We've been together since you've first arrived at camp. And what about those promises you made when we were sailing to Greece? You've been keeping these feelings away from me and you've been lying to me, making me believe that there's still something between us and—"

"Oh, calm down," he said with an annoyed expression and tone, which only infuriated me more, "it's not like I did anything were her yet! I didn't kiss her or tell her how I truly felt for her! She just got out of a relationship with Jason around the same time I had that dream. I had to figure out how to talk to her about it. I've been alone in this Bunker for three. Fucking. Weeks. I didn't cheat on you."

"Oh, and that makes everything better?" I countered. "Being in a relationship isn't about not cheating, Leo. It's about being honest and communicating with each other."

"Oh, like you've been communicating with me? After the war, you take go back to Manhattan for school, and you take a job. I haven't seen you much during the holidays because work has been keeping you in the city. And you won't tell me what you even do for a living!"

I took in a deep breath. "I told you I needed to have a life outside of camp! I needed to know first that I could handle myself in the mortal world as a normal human being. I needed this demigod part of my life to be separate as much as possible! I've been in two wars, Leo. I needed time to myself, too. And I was about to tell you guys in a few more days. But I guess now, I'm glad I've kept you out of that part of my life. At least I have an escape from all of this. And now, especially from you."

I took another deep breath and walked to the door, about to let myself out. I turned back again, both our tear-stained eyes meeting each other.

"If it makes you feel any better," I said softly, "I would've hated the idea of us breaking up. But if you really love her, if you really feel like you have this special connection to her and she makes you happy, then I won't get in your way. You could at least have had the decency to talk to me so we could have left on a good note."

He looked at me with wide eyes, clearly regretting his actions. I sighed and looked around the Bunker, possibly for the last time. Lots of memories were definitely created in this room; all just as grand and meaningful as the inventions they made here. But just like some of Hephaestus' contraptions, some of them were flawed and dumped in his scrapyard, no matter how much potential it could have had.

"Goodbye, Leo."

I sat on a rock on the beach that gave me a beautiful view of Long Island Sound. To my left, the sun started to set, casting an orange filter on everything. My heart broke, remembering how everything glowed orange in the Bunker. Leo always left the fires burning when he was working. The sunlight twinkling against the sea reminded me of how small bits of flame peaked through his hair earlier. I remembered how mad he was at me. Or maybe he was mostly mad at himself.

"Hey."

I jumped when someone sat—or rather, landed—beside me. I turned and smiled, seeing one of my good friends back at camp.

"Hey, you're back," I said weakly. "How long have you been here?"

He smiled at me, although he could maybe sense that something was wrong. "Half an hour, maybe? I saw Annabeth making plans to expand camp to have a city. She made me do an aerial inspection and I told her I'll get back to her tonight. That's when I saw you."

"Mhmm," I mumbled, not really knowing what to say. It was silent for a few minutes before I spoke up again, knowing he was just waiting for me to open up.

"I broke up with Leo."

His head quickly turned to me. I guess he wasn't expecting it to be that bad. "What?"

"Oh yeah," I laughed dryly. "Turns out the mist memories Piper had in Wilderness School with you? They were real. But not with you."

His eyes widened. "Oh... With Leo."

"He locked himself in the Bunker for weeks trying to write a letter. It was heartbreaking. Like, truly heartbreaking. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her and how much he missed them. Then he said how much he missed that night with her under the stars and... It hurt. Like hell."

"Oh," he said. "I guess Piper didn't tell me everything then."

"She knew all along?"

He shook his head. "Maybe not everything, but she told me she's been confused about her feelings lately and she'd been having visions or dreams of possible old memories that were messing with her head."

"I'm sorry about you and Piper," I said.

"Don't be," he said. "I understand her. It did hurt, though. But I think I can get over it some day. We're still awkward around each other, but at least we left on a good note."

I scoffed. "Leo couldn't even give me a good ending to our relationship."

"Hey," he said as he put a hand on my shoulder. "You're a great person, y/n. You've done so much, especially for him. It's his loss that he was stupid enough to let go of you."

"I know that."

"Do you really?"

"I do!" I said. "I'm a great person and I know that. But that doesn't mean what he did doesn't hurt me."

"I know," he said. "You'll find someone who'll treat you like the queen that you are. You're a great person, and I'm not just saying this to cheer you up. I truly think you're amazing."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Jason. And you'll find someone great, too. Maybe not as great as me but, then again, who is?"

We both let out a laugh. The conch sounded in the distance, signaling dinner. I moved to stand up before hearing Jason speak up again.

"Hey, do you maybe want to just grab a couple of plates and eat out here?"

I smiled. "Yeah. That sounds good. I don't really want everyone else hounding me about the breakup right now."

I don't know how long it was going to take me to get over Leo. We really did gave something special. It was cruel how the universe gave me something so good, to make me have hope that something was finally going right, then have it yanked away from my arms just as suddenly as it came.

He never cheated on me, but that didn't mean he didn't betray every promise we made to each other. I should have known it was too good to be true. Life has always played cruel jokes on me.

Then again, who's to say that things won't turn out for the better, right?

•••

Tagging: @drvrslcense @bubblybubbubs @dreamerball @quteez @aesthetxcimagines @chasingpj @beingleft @wadewilsonsgreatestfriend

[j-pankratz]

The Slumber that Creeps to Me

Geraskefer. 7208 Words. Rated T.  Jaskier pulls an extreme all-nighter (read: 60+ hours) to finish a paper he procrastinated on, and finds at the end of it that sleep does not come as easily as he’d hoped. Tags for: Sleep Deprivation, Self Destruction/Lack of Self Care, Hallucinations, Nightmares, Overstimulation, Hurt/Comfort, Whumping the Bard, very loving partners, and a happy ending. <3 AO3 link in the reblog!

As with most disasters spurned by his own cockiness, Jaskier felt as thought that all in all, the situation could have been worse.

The idea to have Geralt and Yennefer spend the spring holiday break at Oxenfurt was, in his defense, ingenious. His students weren’t around, the weather was gorgeous, they all had varying degrees of business in the city, and they could fuck each other senseless at any hour of the day. In a bed. A nice one, provided he was a legitimate professor, now. Well, visiting. Well, it was complicated. But they were his rooms, and that’s what mattered.

When Jaskier gotten the prestigious offer to write the season’s main article for the Continent’s most respected Bardic Journal, he’d just sort of figured he’d… fit it in, somewhere. He had seventeen months, which was plenty enough for him. Then he’d just work with the editors, and have a centerfold piece. It was an honor. He was excited about it! He’d meant to get to it sooner, but decided the summer before that he’d devote the winter to it. But… he’d… he’d been distracted. It wasn’t often the entire family gathered at Kaer Morhen. So, he thought, he’d do it later.

But the first few weeks after winter were, of course, spent with Geralt. And the week after that, a trip to the coast, where he’d played a festival and met up with Ciri, who was becoming an amateur critic herself. And then by pure, absolute happenstance, after 3 more weeks of travel he happened to end up at an inn that he definitely hadn’t heard Yennefer was staying at. So that more time gone. And then he’d arrived in Oxenfurt, and he’d really meant to get to work on it, but there was so much to prepare for! He wanted things to be right for them.

And then Yennefer and Geralt had actually arrived, and the idea of anything possibly being more important than their presence flew his mind.

And now, here he was. If he wanted to get it in on time (unfortunately, that wasn’t a suggestion in this case, more of an actual, terrifying requirement,) he’d need to submit it in… gods above, less than three days. 60 hours, if he was doing the math.

There was no word limit, nor a minimum. But, ever the maximalist, he knew it was going to be… long, if he was going to do it right. They’d edit it down, but it was the focal point of the journal, they’d been leading up to it for ages now. Ahh. Well. There was only one thing for it, he supposed.

“I’m working through the night on my paper!” He’d announced that morning, sitting straight up in bed, jostling his sleepy lovers. “No one bother me! I will be at the dining table until further notice!” He swung himself out of bed and made for the door.

“Pants,” his lovers chorused together.

“Right!” he'd said, and marched back into the room.

He’d pulled all-nighters in his youth. In fact, he couldn’t count the times he’d worked through the night, deposited a composition or essay on his professor’s desk with some polite conversation and maybe a wink, and then promptly fallen asleep during the lecture itself. Just a 15-minute power nap, really! Then he’d be back up and at it again, working through another night just to sleep through the weekend. He’d done it before, he could do it again.

Well, it’d been 25 years ago, but that didn’t change much, did it? He still felt spry, agile, hearty— hell, he’d spent the better part of the last twenty odd years chasing after a Witcher, and later an additional princess and mage— surely he should be in better health now!

This was completely accomplishable. Admittedly, he could have written this sooner… but he hadn’t, and here he was.

Geralt and Yennefer both set out early on different errands, leaving the bard to some peace and quiet. Relatively.

He spread his work and references out before him. 7 books, 4 pamphlets, his favorite quills, a hundred fresh pieces of parchments, his lute at his knee. “Alright,” he said aloud to his empty Oxenfurt apartment, “Just sit down and write the damn thing. Sitting part, definitely done. Writing next. Just… write.”

He stared at the page.

“No! No, no, do not be impossible about this. Just start the thing.”

The page stared back.

“Ah, blast,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. This was fine. Just… do the awful, disgusting part of beginning, and then he’d be off. The sooner he started, the sooner he’d finish, after all! He took a breath, and put his pen to paper.

xx

Yennefer returned a few hours later, a book and small parcel in hand. Jaskier looked up to see her sweep through the room, a commanding presence, though she didn’t acknowledge him yet. A few waves of her hands and a pot of tea was put on to boil, her hair was put in a bun, and three mugs were floating down from a shelf.

“Lovely to see you too,” he smiled as Yennefer poked through the tea collection. He could practically hear her fond eye roll. She neatly plucked two from one box and looked back at him in question. “Ah… peppermint, if we’ve got it?” and she turned back to the cupboard grab it.

“Any progress?” She finally asked.

“A bit, actually!” Jaskier said cheerfully. It didn’t look like much, but he’d done half a page with almost no errors, and he’d made plenty of notes in the margins of the books he’d need later. It was better than he’d hoped it’d be going by this point, at least. He was kicking academia’s ass. Or, he would be.

The kettle whistled and Yennefer poured the tea, bobbing all three of the tea bags up and down as they steeped. He watched her lean against the counter, casual, relaxed, gorgeous, before realizing she was staring back at him. “Um! Yes, no, definitely good. Got a lot of… those words, you know, they are definitely here. Looking very sexy. The words! The writing is looking… very sexy, very curvy… letters. Sensuous words, you know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sensuous words.”

“Yeah, yes. Like… contemporaneous… and… iguana.”

“Iguana.” She let out a little huff of a laugh and something in Jaskier’s chest tightened and loosened in quick succession. And in a moment she was there, sliding him a large mug with the carving of a rather playful looking bear on one side, batting at a butterfly.

“Oh! My favorite. Thank you, thank you.”

“Mmm,” she said before waving a hand to cool down their tea a bit. She took a seat opposite him, scanning an eye over the table. “Think you’ll be done by tonight?”

Jaskier laughed. “Darling, I’ll be lucky to be done by tomorrow morning.”

“You’re planning to stay up all night, bard?”

“Unfortunately.” He took a sip. “Should be done by tomorrow afternoon, if I keep steady at it.”

“After tea, of course.”

“Of course.”

Yennefer stretched out a bit, kicking her feet onto Jaskier’s lap and rolling her neck. They sat there a moment, sipping, pausing, drinking in each other. There was something nice about taking a moment of stillness with someone just as frenetic as he was, someone who was usually just as itching for something to do, even if she went about it differently. The grace of choosing stillness, he thought, was not something to ignore.

Yennefer reached the end of her mug and tapped its ceramic walls lightly.

“What’s next for you?”

“I have to refresh my potion stock, so I’ll be at the market for supplies. You sure you don’t want to take a break and join?”

Rat’s ass. He fucking loved the Oxenfurt markets. “I’m afraid I can’t. Academia calls.”

“Who does it call for, exactly? What’s that I hear…” She cocked her head and listened intently. “Who is it calling for… is that… V… Val… Valdo?” Jaskier hefted her feet off of his lap in protest, and she laughed. He plucked his quill from its stopper, and went back to hovering over his paper. Introduction mostly accomplished, now he had to really lead in to his point, give some proper context. He flipped through a book beside him.

Yennefer rose smoothly from the table and went to move her mug to the sink. “When Geralt gets in, tell him I need toadflax and bluebells from him? Might as well put him to use.”

Jaskier flipped through the pages, thumbing through for a note he’d sworn he’d made ages ago, when he belatedly tried to register his mage’s words. He could have his fun, too.

“Blue…Yennefer, you want me to tell Geralt that you need blue balls from him?”

“Bells! Bells, you absolute child!” she said. “Honestly. Blue balls? Really, Jaskier?” He was giggling. “I don’t need to ask to give either of you blue balls.”

“Exactly, Yennefer, you provide that service for us anyway, free of charge!” A balled-up napkin hit him in the head and he laughed joyfully.

“I can’t stand you. I’m leaving, you’ll never see me again.”

Jaskier looked up through his grin and met her twinkling, happy eyes. “Tonight then?”

“Tonight,” she agreed, and left with a quick ruffle of his hair.

xx

“Still working?” Geralt said as greeting later in the afternoon. The desk was neater than Jaskier expected it to be this far in, only a few books open, dog eared and marked in colored ink. He’d written a page and a half since Yennefer left, and it was good, it was, but he’d need to go back and make edits later. His long empty mug of tea sat far across him.

“Mm,” he agreed, continuing to write. “Ah, Yennefer came through earlier,” giving a gesture to the waiting mug of tea on the counter. Geralt made his way over to the mug, and gave it a small igni to warm it. He smiled fondly down at the drink—what a terribly lovely sight he was. Warm here, and safe. Couldn’t it be like this always? The three of them here, comfortable and happy? No, he supposed, but gods how he wanted it.

“She’s at the market now,” Jaskier continued, “wanted me to ask you about...” He lifted his pen and squinted. “Ah, toadflax and bluebells.” He looked up at Geralt, smiling. “Blue balls,” they said together, sporting matching shit-eating grins, Geralt’s albeit much smaller. “I made the same joke myself,” Jaskier added.

Geralt snorted. “How’d she take that?”

“Oh, as well as you’d hope. We’ll never see her again, of course.” He turned back to his work, reading over the last paragraph. He could feel Geralt approach to stand behind him, and while he’d normally shoo his witcher off, he was too deep in concentration to bother.

How long was too long to linger on the progression of oral storytelling to bardship? It’s not like he could ignore it, (Geralt’s hand came to grip his shoulder, a thumb rubbing against it tenderly) as it was a crucial tenant of the argument— but there was plenty to be said for assuming the literacy and foreknowledge of the reader. (He leaned in to get a closer look at Jaskier’s page, the soft warmth of the tea in his other hand bouncing off his chest) But this was to be in a journal often referenced by first years, and he knew how much he would have loved a paper that had everything all in one—

“How’s it going?” Geralt asked softly in his ear.

Jaskier waved a hand over the mess before him. “You know. It’s fine, I’m just not sure at what point I’m lingering on points to excess.”

“Mm,” Geralt hummed understandingly. “Tell the story. Trust your gut.” He gave Jaskier a nuzzle and light kiss against his cheek before taking up the empty mug off the table and walking off further into the apartment.

“I always do!” Jaskier called back. Mm, if only this were as simple as telling a story. Well…Oh—if he spent this paragraph referencing the progression it would end up taking up more room, be a run of the mill lead-in, but if he wrote the actual history as a short story itself, now there was an idea, he could make his point and give the context. Oh, fuck, brilliant—

“Back soon,” Geralt was saying as the front door slipped shut, but the bard was too lost in his work to do more than give a small nod of his head.

The sun was falling, making a graceful bow into the horizon. Warm light spread out over the streets of Oxenfurt like the last pushes of tide, ebbing, and flowing, and sinking back into night.

“Ah, fuck,” Jaskier muttered, crossing out a spelling error with a snarl.

His shoulders ached, and his lower back was going to be the death of him. He was on page 7. All he could see was the work ahead of him, winding off ad infinitum. If he didn’t pick up the pace, he might have to go 60 hours straight—he shivered. Not ideal. He took a breath, stood up and stretched a bit, his muscles groaning in thanks. A quick bathroom break later and he was sliding back into his chair, still warm, his papers grinning up at him, sardonic.

He’d take a meal break at 10 pages, he told himself.

He stood to stretch and his head swam. Well. Plenty of reason to stay seated, he supposed.

Geralt and Yennefer returned at 12 and a half pages. He turned his head in greeting, and when he looked back he got the first real look at the table in hours—it was a disaster, crumbled pieces of parchment, empty quills, and little notes strewn everywhere. Some books propped open, the pile of parchment looking more like a mountain slope, an empty glass from when he’d chugged water hours ago.

His loves were clearly a few drinks deep as they came through the door, and completely unmarred by the woes of academia. Bastards, honestly.

“Hi, hello, hope you had a good evening, I—”

“Come to bed,” Yennefer said, suddenly right behind him. Two small but firm hands came to his shoulders, rubbing deeply.

“Ah! Oh, fuck—oh, yes, darling, right there—”

Geralt came to his other side, tipping his head up for a kiss, which he moaned into. His witcher’s tongue was soft, pleading, tempting him—his mage’s hands pushing almost painfully against his aching muscles. He wanted to cry, it was so good. It was so different than the last… however many hours it had been that he had been sitting here. Geralt pulled away, and Yennefer’s hands came to rest as well.

“So?” Geralt asked, his voice deep and velvety. “Bed?”

“I…” gods, who had he become? “I can’t. I want to, I just—”

Yennefer placed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s fine,” she said, and he knew it was, but he hated denying them something they all wanted. “Have you eaten?”

Jaskier frowned. “Fuck. Not really.”

Geralt sighed and went to the pantry. “You’re getting a sandwich,” he grumbled.

“Ooo, Geralt, dear heart, would you heat it up? Use some of your,” he wiggled his fingers “your witchery magic?”

Geralt turned and glared. “You’re getting a sandwich.”

“He’s so mean to me,” Jaskier muttered to Yennefer, “I can’t believe he’s so mean to me.”

His mage snorted a laugh into his hair. “You’re really staying up all night, then?” She waved a hand and the curtains around the room swept shut, and his lantern began to burn steadily.

“Looks like it,” he sighed. Geralt retuned a moment later, plated warm sandwich and glass of water in hand.

“Fuck. Thank you.” He took it and took a bite, suddenly ravenous. He looked up at both of them, staring down in fond amusement. “Fank—” he swallowed his mouthful of sandwich. “Thank you both, truly. I’ll be up a bit. If you need something, call, yes?”

They rolled their eyes. “He tells us to call if we need anything,” Yennefer muttered. “Don’t get into any trouble,” she said, and with a peck on the cheek from both of them, they disappeared into the bedroom.

He looked back at his work.

Okay. 12 ½ pages in. He could do this.

x

At 15 pages, he felt ravenous again, and made a second sandwich. Not as good as Geralt’s. Geralt’s sandwiches weren’t even that good, but they were made by Geralt, which added a certain kick, a novelty he adored.

He drank another glass of water and shook his head. Back to work.

At 17 pages, sometimes the world swam before him. He gripped the edge of the table. Fuck.

He was so tired. 23 pages. He kept writing.

It was terrible. The whole paper was a mess. Nothing made sense and people were going to laugh at him. 25 pages.

He heard a sound. Was that Geralt rising for the bathroom? Was it an intruder? Light crept in through the window. 27 pages.

There was a ringing in his ear. His writing was getting increasingly larger. 27 ½ pages.

Geralt gave him a soft nuzzle to the top of his head before padding through to the kitchen. Jaskier’s heart ached. His bones ached. Writing was hard but right then it felt impossible. 27 ¾ pages.

Geralt lingered, and Jaskier felt his nose twitch. He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for him to leave. He couldn’t have any distractions right now. He shut his eyes tight until he heard the bedroom door close once more.

Yennefer entered hours later, sweeping the curtains over with a flick of her hand. Bright light flooded the room, painting the desk in all its full, disgustingly messy glory. “Well—”

“Could you ask next time?!” Jaskier snapped. “Some of us need consistency to concentrate!”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow, and they stared at each other. Some part of him wanted to slap himself but the rest was just so irritated. Who’d she think she was, anyway?

After a moment, the mage turned and left with a flick of her hand to sweep the curtains shut again.

“Headed out,” Geralt said at 30 pages. “Contract.”

“Good,” Jaskier muttered. “I mean. Good that you’re—fuck. Whatever.”

Geralt stared. “You need rest. It’s been more than 24 hours.”

“I need to fucking finish.”

“Yen said—”

“I’m sure she did,” Jaskier muttered, driving his heels into his eyes. Gods, his eyes burned. Silence hung.

“She portaled out this morning.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Great. Love that. I’m a fucking disaster, thank you for the reminder, Geralt.” He waved toward the door. “Don’t you have a contract?”

He turned back to his papers, shifting around to look for page 11, and didn’t think about how long it took before Geralt left the apartment.

His hand was shaking but he was at 34 pages. He still had so much to say. Fuck. But he was in it now.

He scarfed down some soup that was mostly broth at some point, and he’d under-salted it, but it was something. His eyes kept going blurry; traitorous things.

The bear on his mug was plotting his downfall.

38 pages and Jaskier felt like the gods themselves had gifted him with the knowledge he now bestowed onto meager commoners. He was a genius.

At 43 pages, he had stopped to lay out the entire essay on the ground, so he could see it all. The words sometimes swam before him, and he had trouble remembering what he was meant to say next. Once, he looked up, confused as to where he was. And then, at 44 pages, the guilt of snapping at his dearest loves, the weight of this behemoth paper he wasn’t even sure he could finish, and his own self-doubt crept in and seized him up, leaving him breathless and in tears for… awhile. Everything hurt. He had to keep going.

At 48 pages, he saw a griffon fly through his window, and he named it Kalvin. He turned whatever color Jaskier wanted him to turn, which was very considerate of him. Kalvin was his only friend now, and with a little convincing, might become his editor, too.

At 55 pages his chest seized, and it was hard to breathe for a moment. He closed his eyes but—no, no, couldn’t do that. If he fell asleep now, he’d never finish in time. He tried to relax, got some water, leaned against the counter. Everything was a mess.

He sat back on the floor, his work around him. Keep going.

“I don’t think there’s anything about anything that I have to be doing right now. Kalvin, you’ve… you’ve got to understand, this could be my finest work! It’s good. It’s pretty good here in… in this part, here. In that other part it’s just okay, but that’s why you come in with your big claws and you’re gonna. Rip up the bad parts. Don’t rip up the good parts. Right? Yeah. Do you think they’ve forgotten about me by now?”

He looked down. 57 pages. Took a long blink.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “That’s fair.

He had to write two extra pages so that he could skirt around referencing Valdo Marx’s work as anything other than a contradictory point. Maybe it would have been fun to use his own writing against him but he didn’t want to give the satisfaction of being referenced positively in a centerfold piece.

He lost the essay.

“Fuck—oh, gods, where did—”

He turned around, looked down. Oh, there it was.

“Thank fuck.”

The curtains were still closed and the charmed lantern was still burning, but Jaskier knew it was night by the time he reached 63 pages and Geralt came in.

Jaskier looked up from his spot kneeling on the floor. Geralt looked fine. He was a little dirty. There were some gushy bits. Probably blood. He was tired. Or just mad. Maybe he hated Jaskier.

“You’re still—?!” Geralt asked, looking at Jaskier like he’d just said a griffon named Kalvin had flown in the window earlier and now they were friends.

“I met a griffon,” Jaskier heard himself say. Geralt stared. “We’re friends now.”

“…You need to fucking sleep.”

“No.” Jaskier went back to the margin he’d devoted to drawing circles in. “Sorry ‘bout earlier.”

Geralt sighed. He might have talked but Jaskier didn’t hear, just kept writing.

“How often has that been happening?” he heard Geralt ask.

“What happening?”

“Where you fall asleep for a moment.”

“I haven’t! Fallen asleep.”

“Fuck,” Geralt said. He looked very nice, except for the goop all over him. Well. Even that wasn’t so bad, when the underneath bits were Geralt. His Geralt. Looked so warm, so strong, so able to carry him.

“Later,” Jaskier replied, and went back to his words. The familiar pop of a portal sounded in the bedroom. Their eyes lingered on the direction it came from, but Yennefer didn’t open the door. They looked at each other, and then back at the door which remained very much shut. “She’s mad.”

“Yep.”

“At me.”

“Yep.”

There was a pause. “Are you covered in blood?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh.”

“Not mine.”

“That,” he said pointing to the Witcher, “is good.”

“Mmm.”

“Sticky though.”

“Definitely sticky.”

Yennefer came out of the doorway, and Jaskier blinked. When he opened his eyes again she was much closer than she’d been and was in the middle of talking. Magic, he assumed.

“—yourself very lucky, bard.”

“Yeahh,” he said. “Sorry. ‘Bout… Sorry.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. There was a look in her face. Eyes? And her mouth. It was hard to name. Words were hard, when they weren’t the words he desperately needed to write.

“—for a while,” Geralt was saying. “Jaskier. How close are you to finishing.”

“Soon!” Jaskier said. “Soon! Soon. Due… 1pm tomorrow. What time is it?”

“10pm.”

“Fuck. Psshhh. I can… I can do it.” He looked up at Yennefer. “Sorry. Really. I… I’m just tired,” he admitted. “Shouldn’t have snapped. Not fair to you.”

Yennefer stood there, arms folded, emanating some emotion Jaskier had lost the concept of around page 41. Geralt walked further into the apartment, into the bedroom. Oh right. Blood armor. Ick.

He went back to writing and tried to ignore the desire to cry again, and then suddenly Yennefer’s shoes were in his line of vision.

“Let me read it,” she said.

“Oh.”

They stared at one another. She had such a pretty face. He might have been smiling. She rolled her eyes and then came to sit next to him. She quickly found the first page and began.

Halfway through it, he spilled ink on the bottom half of page 64, and wept. Yennefer gave him an attempt at a comforting pat on the back.

Yennefer had read the pages and risen; “It’s good. You need edits, but it’s somehow decent. Good. Whatever. A little… loose, toward the end, though,” made herself a cup of tea, and entered the bedroom.

Either a few moments, or 20 minutes later, Geralt emerged.

“What are you at now?”

“69 pages.”

“Nice,” Geralt said.

“Ha. Yeahhh,” Jaskier agreed.

“That’s not what I—” Geralt sighed the sigh that meant his face was going all pinch-y. “Close to the end?”

“Mmm. What is the end, really?” Geralt made a different pinch-y face. “Soon.”

“Come to bed tonight, Jaskier.”

“I’ll try,” he said. He blinked, and Geralt was gone.

There are a lot of words in an essay that are very hard to spell.

Jaskier ate the rest of a loaf of bread.

For a while, he swore he walked the streets of Oxenfurt while still warm in his professorial housing.

Kalvin’s accent changed three times and at one point he was on fire.

85 pages.

Geralt woke first, as always; There he was! That was his love. So much of his heart.

With shaking hands, Jaskier had brought himself up to sit in his chair, and sat staring down at his work. He looked up at Geralt with a lopsided grin. “I did it,” he said weakly.

“Need help putting it together?”

The tears fell so quickly he didn’t realize it was happening. “Really?”

Geralt sighed softly and knelt down, organizing the papers.

Yennefer emerged a bit later—There she was! His love, a chunk of him was hers entirely. He smiled. “Look!”

“Mmm. And now you can sleep.”

“NO!” Jaskier cried and leapt to his feet, “No, no, now… now is presenting time. To… the editors. Not Kalvin. But I turn it in… and then sleep,”

He had a sudden burst of energy, and tried to step over Geralt and the papers, but fell into the table instead, before the Witcher steadied him from below.

“Ohhhh, thank you dear. It’s time for… presentation! Mm.” He leaned into Yennefer’s warmth at his side, though she did not wrap her arms around him as he’d hoped. “Help me pick out an outfit.”

He blinked. Yennefer was in front of him now, looking at him with a frown, her hands around his waist. Geralt’s hand was against his forehead. “No! Stop that! I’m fine. I’m fine! See me! Fine. It’s action time. Let’s go!” and he marched off to the bedroom.

The floor was suddenly very close to his face.

“Did I—”

“You fell on your face.”

“Have I—”

“You’ve asked three times now, yes.”

There should have been fanfare when he turned it in, but there was only the grateful smile of Edmond, the young new assistant, a firm handshake, and a promise he’d hear back from them very soon, for a quick summarization of their initial thoughts. Or, he’d used all those words, Jaskier forgot which order they’d come in.

The three returned to the apartment, and everything happened very slowly and so quickly he found it hard to keep track. There was definitely a bath drawn for him—gods, it had been days, hadn’t it— oh, fuck, he was gross, wasn’t he—a full meal, and a celebratory drink. He’d made a few good jokes, and all he could see were Geralt and Yennefer, smiling at him. An empty glass. A bar of soap. A long quill. A messy table. A pile of books and an empty mug. They deposited him on the bed for sleep, and left together.

Jaskier lay there, waiting for sleep to take him.

It did not.

He was so tired he could cry. He did, a few times. He couldn’t think straight. All of it, everything, hurt. His body ached. He tried to soothe himself down alone, rocking himself in the hopes it would work. But nothing.

What if he could never sleep again? What if he would always be awake, forever? What if this was how he died?! Oh gods, he didn’t want to die! He still had edits to approve!

Eventually, he could feel himself getting closer. He adjusted himself, lay on his back and took deep, measured breaths, kept his eyes closed but relaxed. Okay. Okay. Sleep.

He was falling, so violently and so fast that when he jolted awake, he forgot he’d been lying on a bed in the first place.

Fuck.

He tried again. It happened sometimes, it was fine. He’d be fine.

He tried breathing deeply once more, trying to let the distant scents of Yennefer and Geralt now embedded in his pillows overtake him.

A fear so powerful it gripped his heart and twisted, whispered to him, ‘this is what dying is, you’re going to die’ and he once again jolted awake. He threw his head back against the pillow and winced; even that hurt.

Fuck. Fuck.

He kept trying. Over, and over, he’d get so close to sleep and then right at the precipice, something would yank him out of it.

Once, he saw Yennefer falling off a cliff. Another time, he saw Geralt stabbed through the chest. At some point, he saw Ciri screaming, and his hands flew out to pull her close, only to find nothing there. Sometimes it was himself falling, and sometimes it was the world below him falling instead.

He’d really done it this time. Stayed awake so long, sleep had abandoned him entirely.

It felt like twelve years before Yennefer and Geralt returned, slipping into the room quietly. He sat up in bed, startling them both.

“Please,” he said quietly, “I can’t. I don’t know why I can’t I just—I can’t. My body won’t let me, I want to but I can’t—”

“How the hell—” Yennefer started, walking over to him with a palm out to check for a curse, maybe? It didn’t matter. He wrapped her hand in his and clutched it to himself, desperate for her. She was so warm. So alive.

“Fuck,” Geralt sighed, “It’s been nearly 70 hours already, Jaskier.”

“Let me just put him down with magic,” Yennefer started, but Geralt put a hand up.

“We can’t. It’s a temporary fix. if he can’t fall asleep on his own without magic, it’ll get harder and harder for him. We need to get him to fall asleep without it.” They looked down at him. What a disgrace he must look like, how pathetic he was. He turned his face away in abject shame. He couldn’t even fall asleep right.

While he looked away, Yennefer tore her hand from his as she and Geralt discarded their clothes into heaps beside the bed, crawled beneath the covers on either side of Jaskier. They hated him. They must. How could they not?

“It’s fine, you don’t—fuck, sorry—”

Geralt shrugged. “Don’t be. I know how bad it gets. It’s different for a Witcher, but no sleep is the whole reason we met Yennefer.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jaskier said softly.

“As I recall, the solution then was to have vigorous sex on the floor.” Yennefer ran a finger along Jaskier’s chest. “Sound appealing?”

“I—yes, Yennefer, it sounds appealing.” He fidgeted, tried to focus on the feeling of Yennefer’s delicate touch. He was oversensitive enough that it felt like fire, but nothing… stirred, and each word he spoke felt like he was pulling honey from his tongue. “I don’t… much as I’d like, I’m not sure I’d be... up for it right now.” Yennefer’s head fell against the pillow and she flattened her hand, ran the palm up his chest to rest above his heart. Pressed a kiss there.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply, but they were looking at him, he could feel every inch of their gazes and it was all too much. He whined in agony. “I can’t do this. Fuck. I can’t, just put me out. We try it again tomorrow, I—”

“Jaskier. You can. Tell us what you need and we can help you,” Yennefer said, sweet but firm. And that was her, wasn’t it?

He couldn’t think. Wanted to. Wanted so much. Wanted to be asleep.

Jaskier curled up on his side, exhausted of being exhausted, when he felt Geralt slide up closer behind him. “Can I hold you?” he murmured into the bard’s shoulder. Jaskier nodded, and felt Geralt’s arm come around him and under his own arm, felt it slide up his chest and cross it protectively.

“Feel good?” Jaskier nodded, and then cracked his eyes open, met Yennefer’s, concern palpable.

He lifted one arm just slightly. “C’mere?” And she did, curled into his arms and around him, tucked her head under his, kissed the top of Geralt’s fingers. He held her close, and was held by the two in turn. Breathing, somehow, felt easier between them.

“Breathe, bard,” Yennefer urged him softly. Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s hair, took in a deep breath, and Jaskier tried to follow.

They breathed softly, all together, slow and safe. Soon, he was drifting into sweet oblivion.

‘You,’ Fear said, wrapped around his sternum, ‘will crumble, the moment you let go of wakefulness.’ It gripped him, and tugged him back to reality.

He jolted again. “Fuck, dammit, cock wringing—”

Yennefer pulled back to look at him worriedly. “Is that what’s been keeping you up?” she asked.

“It’s, I don’t know, something just pulls me back, I try to fight it but…”

“Mmm,” Geralt agreed. “Sleep starts. Happens sometimes.”

“The hell are sleep starts?”

“They’re… when you’re too on edge to sleep, or just haven’t in too long, brains… fizzle. Keep you awake. It’s a survival instinct—it makes you think you’ve got to stay awake to stay alive. Feels like falling? Or… a shock. Sometimes other things. Hallucinations.” Geralt pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “It’s scary. It’s meant to be. Your body thinks it’s fighting for its life.”

“I am never letting you doom yourself like this ever again,” Yennefer said, and while it was probably meant to come out angry, she just sounded worried.

Geralt hummed and agreement. “Try again, we’ve got you. We’re not letting go.” Jaskier took a breath. They had him. They had him.

Yennefer lifted a hand to Jaskier’s temple. “May I?” And he let her in, easier than breathing. She gave him Ciri laughing, wind chimes on the breeze, the soft roar of the coast. Geralt hugged him tight, ran his other hand through Jaskier’s hair, tried to keep the bard’s breathing aligned. Now, what had he ever done to earn these two?

Soon, sleep came to him again, and he could feel Yennefer ready to soothe anything that came for him in his mind, Geralt ready to defend against anything that dared hurt his resting body. The darkness crept in, and he felt peace.

Geralt was reaching for him, falling, bleeding, screaming.

“FUCK!”

“Shh,” the real Geralt hushed him. “We’ve got you.”

“Fuck, there’s got to be something else,” Yennefer groaned. “What’ve you tried so far?”

“I have tried… to fall asleep.”

Yennefer and Geralt both huffed small laughs. “No. Positions—”

“Only the good ones.”

“Meditating?” Geralt asked.

“Darling, I haven’t had a thought in my head in hours. This is meditation.”

“Drugs?” Yennefer asked.

“I will try the drugs!” Jaskier said with a drowsy cheerfulness, as Geralt replied “No drugs. No.”

“Ugh,” Jaskier groaned, and shifted to lie on his stomach. Oh. This was… better. He nestled into the pillows, and a soft contented sigh drifted from him.

“That feel better?” Geralt asked as he ran a hand up and down Jaskier’s back. “Mmm,” Jaskier replied. Yennefer’s hand joined Geralt over his chest. Oh, they were going to make him cry.

And then it was too much, too much feeling, like his brain couldn’t handle all the sensation, and he felt Yennefer come to pause, and a moment later, Geralt’s hand as well. ‘That better?’ Yennefer asked in his mind. Jaskier gave her the memory of his favorite hug with her, warm and happy as her legs wrapped around his waist, and his favorite with Geralt, crushing and firm and full of too many emotions to speak aloud.

“Could…” he said softly, “Just. Talk? Not to me. Just… to each other. Just wanna hear you.” He could almost hear their smiles, and felt as they settled in on the pillows beside him, arms and hands intertwining on his back. Yennefer’s head on his shoulder, the gentle planes of Geralt’s chest on his other side. “If you need us, Yennefer and I are here. We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

He nodded into the mattress, cool and soft below him.

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

“G’night Yennefer.”

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

"G’night, Geralt.”

He started to fade into oblivion, but stopped himself before he got too far. Not fear, not anxiety, a conscious stopping. Somewhere above him, Geralt was telling Yennefer about the contract from… sometime in the past few days, and Yennefer was telling her own story about some town gossip with a woman and her hens, which, it might have been a metaphor, but he’d basically forgotten what those were by now. He breathed deeply, felt their words flow through him, and when he felt brave enough, he let go, trusting they would catch him.

He could have sworn he heard wind chimes, somewhere.

x

The small amount of light filtering in through the curtains was golden when he awoke. His head both ached and felt light as a feather, his muscles screamed and cried but half of it was in relief. He gave a small stretch and yawned. “G’morning,” an amused Geralt said to him, lounging in a chair he’d brought beside the bed, reading a book. His legs were propped up on the bed beside the bard’s and Jaskier stretched to bump their toes together.

“What time…?”

“You slept 13 hours.”

“Fuck.”

“You probably need more.”

“Yeahhhh.”

“Feel alright?”

“Like a real human being,” he said. “Hungry, though.”

“Mmm.”

Yennefer slipped in the door, but, noticing Jaskier was awake, rose a hand. “May I?” she asked, voice dripping in sarcasm, gesturing to the curtains.

“You may,” Jaskier offered, covering his face with his hands. “Ohhhh, gods, how bad was I?”

“Genuinely awful,” Yennefer said, as Geralt was saying, “There’s been worse.”

“Normally I’d withhold this,” the mage said, withdrawing a small envelope from her pocket. “But, under the circumstances…” she cleared her throat.

“To one Julian Alfred Pankratz. We were extremely pleased to receive your manuscript yesterday afternoon. Our editors are will have their notes to you by the weekend, but we wanted to reach out and extend our most sincere compliments on your work. It is—oh, a flood of adjectives, I’m skipping these. Etcetera, etcetera, sucking your dick, etcetera alright, here—and meticulous in construction. We can tell,” Yennefer said, dragging out the final sentence, “you made good use of your year of writing time to complete the work.” Jaskier and Geralt by this point were holding back true howls of laughter.

“And won’t you believe it, there’s more. Ahem; we have a number of suggestions and questions already, but encourage you to get your well-deserved rest as we prepare our feedback. We are grateful to work with you, and thank you again for your stunning entry. There’s a postscript,” Yennefer added. “As a quick and personal note, we cannot have helped but notice the nature of your penmanship; we mean no offence, but would encourage you to see a doctor of the eye to fit you with some spectacles.”

“My—my penman…? What’d—” and Yennefer, who had clearly been waiting for this moment, brought out a rather crumpled piece of parchment with an ink stain at the bottom—ah, yes, the original page 64— and showed it to him. His eyes were… gods, they were aching, but he was clear minded enough now to see that each line had become at least twice it’s normal size. The lines were far from straight, dipping and bending toward the edge of the paper, the letters changed directions at random points, and a fair amount of the words were smudged so completely they were hard to make out.”

Jaskier stared in horror.

“They. Is that. Is that what it looked like? Really?”

“It’s worse than most of the ones that made it in,” Geralt said, carefully.

“Most?!”

“You drew pictures on one of them,” Yennefer said.

“Oh my god. They…they must…”

“Adore it, clearly,” Yennefer said, setting aside the paper. “It wasn’t worth the strain, and you’ve definitely firmly embarrassed yourself, but they’re either embarrassing themselves by fawning praise on you,” she said, sliding onto the bed, “Or you’re actually just… very knowledgeable and talented, even when addled by sleep deprivation.”

There was a pause, Jaskier soaking this in; it hadn’t been worth it, exactly, but it wasn’t all bad. In fact, it was quite good, and Yennefer was complimenting him outright, so, very good.

“Or both,” Geralt added.

“Definitely both,” Yennefer agreed.

Jaskier groaned. “You can’t be mean to me. You’re in my house and I am extremely tired, which means that you, by law, must kiss me and tell me nice things about myself.”

Geralt laughed, light and free, and Yennefer slunk slower down into the bed. “You get no kisses,” she said, “You get sleep and rest.” She grabbed a pillow from under her head and plopped it delicately onto Jaskier’s face.

“Boo,” Jaskier said, muffled beneath the thing. He closed his eyes. Geralt muttered something, and Yennefer gave a snort of laughter, and then there was silence.

“Are you two kissing up there?!”

More silence.

“UGH,” he groaned, and sunk into his soft, sweet mattress. Oh, beautiful mattress. How he adored it, how he adored his two loves on top of it. He listened to their kissing, soft, and sweet, and knew he’d join them soon. But it was so warm down here. Even as one of them removed the pillow, he could only bring himself to open his eyes for a moment, to see them both leaning to kiss his face gently, before returning to each other. He took a long, deep breath, and listened to them swirl around him, until all he could feel was their love and the sweet caress of his pillow.

[calunasteria]

please, xanny. | sanzu haruchiyo

"𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚."

- ever wonder how love will feel like if its with sanzu haruchiyo?

current word count: 2.3k

tw (throughout the series): mentions of drug use and abuse, manipulation (gaslighting) and toxic relationships, mentions of blood, death, and murder, rape (attempt), use of deadly weapons, slight nsfw (??) - kindly tell me if i missed one. thank you.

date started: 07/29/21 (wattpad) | 07/31/21 (tumblr)

date ended: -

02 ! please, xanny.

i still dont know sanzu's background/backstory so this might be inaccurate but i'll try to edit this out once i'm done with the story and once their backstory is out (akashi siblings).

note: not proofread

sanzu was never the type to associate and talk his feelings, emotions, and ideas out loud, not unless if it became too much for him to handle. he was never the type to play hero for someone he barely knows because his heart and mind can only let few people in. once he made up his mind about something, or fixated his loyalty for someone, it can never ever waver.

so for him to do such actions to help this girl infront of him, with tear stained face, ruined polo shirt, and ripped cardigan, under the hazy moonlight, with crisp consternation in the air - was definitely something he wouldn't do on normal occasions.

he doesn't know, his body, and his will just shifted and had a strong urge to help when he heard a familiar yet hoarse voice crying for help, when its literally 3 in the morning in a deserted area.

he and kasumi never shared a conversation before the incident, yet he always admired the way she carries herself with confidence, while her eyes says otherwise, for her ebony orbs were almost dead with dwindling light and maybe that's the reason why he, sanzu haruchiyo is somehow interested in her, inconspicuously.

_

bright, gleaming rays of the golden sun that passed through the transparent glass window woke kasumi up as it was another day, another day to deal with numerous shits with monotonous routines. but this time, she has an objective to go talk to someone. she has something to look forward to for today.

but was completely shut down when she can't get ahold of the man she was trying to find and talk to. he wasn't at his classroom. he didn't attend his classes either - he wasn't at the school.

why? did i do something wrong? kasumi cogitated. she was hopeful to bring him his jacket back and to formally say her thank you to him, but he wasn't even around. and after a few hours of thinking where he might be and why back and forth, she came to a conclusion that maybe he needs to do something else or that something came up that's why he was absent - but as another day goes by, she never saw sanzu haruchiyo again.

he was avoiding her. and she doesn't know what to feel. she was conflicted and amused because how can he avoid her when they literally study in the same school?

"if he doesn't wanna show himself to me, then fine. all i want to do was to say thank you." she sighed as she walked to their house. booming voices and gut wrenching sobs was heard inside, that caught kasumi's attention making her rush towards their front door, frantically opening the doorknob to see what was happening.

-

"man, she's still not here huh." kaoru pouted as she sat down on their usual place, but the only difference is that kasumi is not present. and its been days since kasumi stopped going to school and attending her part time jobs- and sanzu knows that something was definitely up. although he can't find any information about kasumi's whereabouts and he was somewhat frustrated so he decided to go on a local bar to drink something when he saw a familiar figure, face lying down on a table, multiple empty alcohol bottles found near her.

what the fuck is she doing here, haruchiyo pondered as he rushed towards the unconscious girl. "hey. wake up." he shook kasumi's shoulder making the girl grumble and squint her eyes towards the person who woke her up. her head was wobbly, and her vision was kinda blurry but she recognised the scent that was bewitching her system at that moment.

"sanzu!" she beamed, lifting her head up to see the man before her, eyebrows furrowing as he can now see her upclose - busted lips and eyebrows and an evident chestnut color with a hint of purple and blue bruise across her face. and he felt that again. he felt this urgency back then when he helped her on that night and here he is ushering and helping kasumi out to stand up, head empty just him following what his system is doing.

"stand up. can you walk?" he asked as he tried to hold kasumi up, her eyes unfocused and somewhat lost. "yep!" she chimed in trying to steady her movements as she was now aware that the person she was trying to find last week was now here in front of her.

"really?" sanzu lifted one of his eyebrows, as kasumi tried to shoo away his arms that was supporting her weight to keep her from falling down. "yes, now let me go." and sanzu did, making kasumi almost stumble down as her vision is still swirling, but sanzu caught her waist gracefully before she fell down.

"hold my hand, kasumi, or i'll carry you outside. you choose." sanzu offered and kasumi noticed the genuine concern hinted on his stern voice.

she took his hand all while sanzu swiftly intertwined their hands together, holding her closely, enough for her to feel his warmth that soothed her overflowing emotions these past few days.

he opened the door's car and guided her inside, setting her down carefully as he walked towards the driver's seat to go start the car.

"wait, where are we going? why did i followed you here?" kasumi blinked earning a small scoff from the man beside her.

"why don't you ask your alcohol intoxicated system, nakashima-san?" he was definitely grinning, but kasumi was too tired to argue and her head was wobbling around as if she's swimming in a tide pool.

"were sobering you up." was the last thing she heard from sanzu before car engine started and the scenery before her starts fading away into illuminated lights.

-

the car came to a halt breaking the deep reverie kasumi was in, and there she noticed that they were infront of a small coffee shop with a very people in, since its already midnight. "were here," sanzu spoke softly, as he grab another jacket on the backseat tossing it to kasumi who's still processing the things that are happening.

as she stepped out of the car, she was greeted by a sharp, cool, wintry breeze that hit her face gently. her vision is still whirling and she still feels lightheaded because of all the drinks she had but she's in a better state now than she was earlier.

the coffee shop was decorated with retro styled lightbulbs that hanged on wooden ceilings, walls with floating shelves that have books and two and tiny succulents, vintage designed portraits, landscapes, and paintings and the ambience tasted like vanilla and sleepless nights as the coffee's aroma permeated their sensation.

"what do you want to order?" sanzu asked, hands inside his pocket, eyes scanning the menu on the screen at the counter, still wearing his face mask.

"just hot chocolate." kasumi replied, as she fumbled with her wallet handing money to sanzu that just walked past her, quickly muttering her to just sit down and wait for him.

kasumi just stared at sanzu while she waited for him who was now at the counter, ordering and it was not long after he came back with a paper bag and hot chocolate on both his hands.

the paper bag contains a box of chocolate cookies that is freshly baked. "who's this for?" she asked, eyebrows raising at sanzu all while he just blankly stared at her.

"for you." he replied nonchalantly as he went outside the coffee shop, kasumi trailing behind him with so many questions pivoting in her head.

"but i only ordered hot choco? and here's the money. how much is the cookies though?" she protested, trying to keep up with his pace and she noticed that sanzu walked pass his car that was parked a few meters from the coffee shop.

"hey, where are you going? kasumi stomped her foot and sighed loudly because sanzu was ignoring all her questions and she doesn't even know where this man is going.

"sanzu haruchiyo!" she called out, still dizzy and frustrated because of how he ignores all her protests and actions and it was as if sanzu snapped out of his train of thoughts after he heard kasumi yell out his name, he then turned around to see her face tainted with color of crimson red, eyebrows furrowed, and a slight pout on her mouth.

"i'm sorry. just follow me, and you'll see." he went back to her with a few steps, taking the paperbag in her hand so she can drink her beverage while he walks towards the nearby beach. kasumi just followed silently, saving all her questions for later. the walk they shared was quiet yet comfortable even though the wind was all they can hear, and some car or vehicles driving past them.

once they reached their destination, kasumi's hot chocolate drink was long gone and the scenery before her got her awestruck and her breath was taken away.

there was no one on the beach except for them, the sound of the waves crashing was a melody in their ears, and the breeze that blew from the horizon tasted like salt and tranquillity. the sky was painted with dwindling gray, the darkest navy blue, and black ink, with the stars, constellations and crescent moon that adorned the cosmos.

they momentarily locked eyes before kasumi went ahead and ran towards the shore, the sweet and gilded sand soaked her feet was rough, yet the waves was gentle and caring.

everything was so beautiful.

she was beautiful, haruchiyo thought. as her raven hair rode through the wind current and her soft facial features was highlighted by the dim illumination of the moon.

kasumi was playing in the sand when she sat down and admired the sky's reflection on the ocean and it was not long after sanzu sat down too, his zircon gem colored eyes glimmering like the stars that hanged on the night sky. its a shame why he still has his face mask on though.

"thank you, sanzu. for everything," she smiled as she looked at him with adoration, their eyes locked with each other, both orbs filled with unsaid emotions, "but why? why are you being so kind to me? when you barely even know me?"

sanzu just stared at her, unable to answer.

because he himself doesn't even know the answer. why? why did he help her and why does he keep on involving himself with her?

"i don't know." he whispered, words getting lost within the soft breeze blowing from the horizon. "but how about you?" he spoke, as he look towards kasumi who's intently looking at him.

"what do you mean? i didn't do anything much." she replied, her heart getting heavier as the moment passes, being in that place now reminds her of the past she can never bring back.

"you have a bruise on your face. you have a busted lip. you weren't attending school and your part time jobs too. we came here so that you can atleast let go of all your problems." sanzu blurted out, making kasumi turn her head towards sanzu, eyes blinking with amusement while a soft chuckle escaped her lips, stretching it into a wide grin.

sanzu looked confused at her reaction, "no, its just that, you literally said a whole paragraph there, i was shocked. you never said anything more than 10 or more words." she explained, as she lay down on the sand, staring at the stars.

"its just, everything is so shitty. i just found out that my father cheated on my ill and sick mom and he raised his hand at her, and that everytime he'd go out he'll just go whoring around with his bitch downtown. and when i stood up for my mom? he beat me up too. god, when the fuck did it all went wrong?" kasumi ranted, tears falling down her eyes non stop as she let out everything that's been hunting her these past few days all while sanzu just listened intently, his heart sinking slowly in behalf of what kasumi had vented.

"there's no such thing as a perfect family, but that doesn't justify what your father did to you." he muttered, and kasumi sat up, wiping away her tears.

"say, sanzu-"

"haruchiyo." he corrected, voice unwavering.

kasumi was astonished. man, he was definitely full of surprises and as the moment they both share together, stretches on, she felt more and more comfortable with his presence. "haruchiyo, can you remove your mask, please?" she asked, and sanzu was taken aback by her request and he doesn't want to remove it yet his hands moved on his own.

why?

is it normal to feel so fucking connected to a person who doesn't even know you before what happened? to feel so comfortable to someone who barely knows you? to feel so secured with someone whom you only shared a few words and moments with?

he doesn't know.

he doesn't know anymore.

his long, slender, and veiny hands moved towards his face mask and finally removed them.

he thought that she might find it unpleasant, and hideous, just like what other people think, so he just hang his head low but then he felt her warm hands lift his chin up, there he saw her with genuine, fond smile, eyes full of affection.

and oh how sanzu fell in love that moment.

but of course he's not gonna admit it.

he just thinks that its the alcohol with her. yeah. she's still drunk, probably. the male mused, trying to convince himself.

both of them talked and stared at the stars for a long time before kasumi fell asleep. but then after that night, the girl disappeared. she never went to school ever again, nor to her part time jobs.

it was as if what happened that night was a dream.

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read Into Me Chapter 3: The Scarlet Letter

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Word Count: 4,420

Warnings: Bad grades, swearing, anxiety, bullying

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @bajino-in-the-hole @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @t0rmenta0​ @10blurredsmoke10 @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linkispink1995​ @asharpknife @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​

Steve arrived first to Mr. Lawrence’s homeroom, his paper shoved to the back of his notebook. He was happy to have the distraction of Vicki and Tina jabbering at him. He didn’t want to think about his paper. English wasn’t his best subject, but he could hide it from his peers when it was just the teacher and him going back and forth on essays, him writing and them marking. Now, somebody was going to know that he wasn’t good at this. Nancy knew, of course, and while she didn’t say it she always seemed a bit judgemental over his lack of essay writing skill. She was good at everything; it made him feel like he was in good hands when they were together, like they both had something to offer. Apart, it made him feel stupid and secondary, like he was awful at everything. Truth be told, he didn’t exactly know what he had even offered to that relationship, looking back he couldn’t understand why he thought he was worth anything in a relationship at all.

When he sat down, the desk next to him was empty. Steve wasn’t usually early to class, so he was a bit relieved to not see you there. Maybe he could avoid the eminent roasting of his work.

You got to school late. You were absolutely drenched from head to toe. You had walked to school that day, and a sudden rainstorm hit you halfway through, soaking you before you could make it to the building. To make it worse, you’d decided to wear white for the first time in forever. You rushed to your locker in the hopes to change and luckily you’d left a stained sweatshirt there from the previous semester. You’d pushed your wet hair up and away from your face and rubbed away the bits of black eyeliner that had flaked down you cheeks. You looked like shit and you knew it. It was turning into a less than successful morning. You hadn’t even had a chance to look in your locker mirror once you’d changed. You were already late enough for class and didn’t need the write up. You rushed to your English class.

Everyone turned their attention to the doorway when you opened it. You hurried to your desk, keeping your head down and ignoring as Vicki and Tina laughed. You heard Tina say “She looks like a drowned rat.” But you chose to pretend that you didn’t. You were freezing; Hawkins High turned off the heating system mid-March and left the school to stew in whatever weather the state was dealing with to save the county a few bucks a month.

Steve slid his paper onto your desk, keeping his eye on the front of the room as Mr. Lawrence took up attendance. He’d written on the board in chalk ‘how to peer edit’ in thick block letters. You weren’t exactly enthused by the topic, but you were glad to have the dull class to doodle instead of actually listening. You flipped the paper in front of you, looking over Steve’s chicken scratch without really taking in any of the information. You slid it into your trapper keeper, passing Steve your own typed copy of the assignment. You’d made sure to keep the original at home, edited just in case Steve didn’t give you any edits. You left in some mistakes so he could get a grade, but you didn’t want to have to rely solely on him.

You flipped open your sketchpad slowly, keeping your eye on Tracy Lords curly mess of hair piled high on the top of her head like Medusa’s snakes trapped in a golden laurel, or in this case a braided headband. You pulled your graphite pencil from the pink pencil bag you’d sewn in freshman year home-ec. You started with the shape, trying to capture the exact strangeness pile, making little tight curls in the centre of the oval and spiralling in all directions. You felt a pair of eyes on your neck and you turned to see Steve staring over your shoulder. You pulled yourself and the pad inward, trying not to blush. You didn’t like people looking at your art; you hardly showed your work to anyone, even Samantha. All of your drawings sat in their pads, which piled up as the years went by, untouched and forgotten. If Samantha wasn’t allowed to see the pictures of her, Steve Harrington was certainly not allowed a peak.

“Alright, today if you and your partner are ready to begin, we’ll start editing our papers. If you aren’t ready, that’s fine but today is the only day that we’re doing in class editing so I would spend today trying to finish up so you can at least pass your papers on.” Mr. Lawrence explained. You sighed, closing your pad and pulling Steve’s essay from your trapper keeper.

“Now, we want to look for not only spelling and grammar problems, but also sentences that don’t make sense and confusing details within the essay. It’s not about how many big words you can use, it’s if you can accurately and dynamically give your reader information.” Mr. Lawrence explained. He took to the board, writing key points for his marking, specifically to edit in pen and give a letter grade for the paper.

Tina’s hand shot up “You want us to grade the paper? Isn’t that your job?” she asked, smacking her gum violently. Vicki snickered into her palm, reddish brown hair away from her face.

Mr. Lawrence shook his head “No no, I’m not taking your grade on the papers into consideration for my grade, instead I want us to give each other grades to mark the progress of an essay, to give your partner an idea of what the paper might be worth. It’ll be up to them as to whether or not they are comfortable with the grade or if they want to improve.”

You didn’t like that. Who the hell wanted their classmate grading their paper? This was a recipe for disaster. You uncapped your red pen with your teeth, chewing on the lid nervously. You looked over the page. You had made up your mind that you’d be nice. You’d want Steve to be nice to you. It was the least you could do.

But it only took a few lines to understand that this was not a good paper. Spelling and grammar mistakes galore, run on, confusing sentences, no clear subject. It wasn’t even a good story, hell it wasn’t even an essay it came off more like a point form list. As you added more and more red ink to the black, white, and blue it started as. The paper started to become a Jackson Pollack more than a lame essay for an English class, it almost felt beautiful instead of shitty to destroy his essay. It was as though you were turning into art.

Out of curiosity, you looked over at your paper to see how it was fairing. Steve was, as expected, chatting up Vicki from across the aisle, and he’d made two corrections on your page, both small mistakes you’d left in. You rolled your eyes, a pit of annoyance making itself known in the centre of your stomach, as bitter as the cyanide in a peach pit. You made your last two corrects before scrawling a large ‘D’ at the top of the page and initialling next to it.  

You flipped the paper over and pulled back out your sketchpad and brought it close to your chest, pulling your knee up to your chest and adding more curls to the back of Tracy Lords’ head, then focusing in on the braided headband until the bell rang. You flipped your pad closed and slid Steve’s essay back to him, quickly putting your stuff away.

“You mind if I take this home and give it to you tomorrow?” Steve asked, waving your essay in front of your face, nearly giving you a paper cut on the bridge of your nose.

You pushed the paper away, squinting up at him. “Yeah, whatever…” you replied, turning away from. You didn’t feel bad for giving him a bad grade now. He was still a dick head. “Don’t forget your paper.” You added, quickly making your way into the halls. You didn’t usually have the confidence to be snarky with anyone you didn’t trust, but something told you that you could handle Steve Harrington. Maybe it was just how awful his essay was, you felt like you could talk your way out of a fight.

Samantha grabbed your arm as you left the room, the pair of you thankful to have the same lunch period every other day. You hurried into the cafeteria. You knew well enough that she was on the prowl, eyes scanning the room for a certain figure.

“I think the band’s practising today, dude.” You said, taking an extra tray for Samantha and getting her serving of lumpy mashed potatoes and chicken surprise slopped on the plate. Samantha was looking for Robin Buckley, a junior on her soccer team who had drawn her attention as of late, and had been trying to get closer to her as of late, inviting her to join them for lunch every time she saw her and leaving you to third wheel.

“Yeah, probably.” She replied, taking the tray you held out for her and paid for her meal. “So, how’d talking sweet, sexy assignments with King Harrington?” Samantha crooned, batting her eyelashes up at you.

You rolled your eyes “Well, for one, we don’t talk period, and for another it’s fucking awful.” Taking your places at the table closest to the emergency exit, you settled into your routine of trying to choke down the awful cafeteria food. You grabbed your trays and had them filled with whatever horrific concoction the lunch ladies had come up with that day. You carried your grey and brown mushy mess to your table, a small four seater near the edge of the room, out of view from the popular assholes who liked the throw food.

“Oh? Is that what makes it awful? Not getting to enjoy the charming conversations he has to offer?” Samantha was trying hard not to laugh. Watching you squirm was hilarious.

“More like because I have to read his writing…” you replied. You jabbed your fork into what was supposed to be pot roast, but seemed to be ninety percent instant gravy and ten percent meat from an undetermined animal.

“Since when are you such a snob?” Samantha’s mouth was full of mashed potatoes, but the words rang clear.

“Since I spent my morning reading absolute dog shit about a vacation to Miami beach. It was pathetic! I mean, and I’m no critic, but if you’re going to write me an essay on your vacation, can you at least make it interesting?” you ranted. The more you talked about how awful it was the angrier you got about it. You spent so long on art and creating, you spent your time working hard and for someone to slide through life made your blood boil.

Steve didn’t usually spend his free time searching through the cafeteria for people, people usually found him. Tommy and Carol had already motioned him over, their new friend Billy already gone somewhere else, and Vicki and Tina had called for him to join them, but Steve had to handle something first. He didn’t really know what he was looking for, he wasn’t certain he’d find it in there, but there wasn’t any shame in searching. He would ask someone for directions, but it seemed that nobody knew or cared where you were at any time.

You gave him a ‘D’. A god damned ‘D’! He was flummoxed, he thought his essay was shit, he wouldn’t pretend that he didn’t, but he had expected you to be a bit kinder. That was like the unexpected rule of everyone in the class, to grade on the curve. But you went in hard. All he wanted was some answers.

He saw first a flash of pencil stained hands in the air, then the shine of your hair under the florescent lights. You were talking with your hands, making Samantha Cameron laugh hard. He’d never seen you that animated, it made him smile for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

He chuckled, coming up behind you in the hopes that your ease would stick around if he didn’t announce his presence. “You really gave me a D on my paper? What did I do to deserve that?” he asked.

Apparently, you really couldn’t smile when he was around. Both you and Samantha’s smiles dropped, your punky friend dropping her gaze as you were forced to turn around. “Oh…um…well I mean it…maybe I need to look it over again, I was probably being too harsh…” you stuttered, unable to keep yourself from burning up.  You prayed that he hadn’t heard what you were saying. That would’ve been awful.

“Hey, it’s cool, the paper’s no good, it’s no big deal.” That was a lie of sorts, when Steve saw the big red ‘D’, his heart dropped. And he really didn’t believe that you were as innocent as you seemed. You seemed guilty over something.

“Well…I’m sorry anyway. I didn’t mean to bother you…” you apologized. You hoped he’d go away; you’d never been more uncomfortable around a person than Steve Harrington. You didn’t know why, but something about him made gave you more butterflies than other people did, he scared you for reasons you couldn’t quite understand.

“You didn’t bother me, don’t worry.” Steve chuckled awkwardly. You wouldn’t look him in the eye, it was throwing him off. “So, listen, I don’t want to fail this class,” he huffed out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck “Could you maybe help me rewrite this thing?”

You looked to Samantha, unsure if you could even speak words anymore, but she was smirking into her pot roast. Absolutely no help at all. You tried to smile “Um…sure, I can’t promise I’ll be much help though…” your voice was hoarse and unsure of itself. You hated that you’d said yes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse. What if he got mad? Or yelled at you? You couldn’t handle being ridiculed or yelled at, you’d die.

Steve chuckled “Any help I can get is good enough. I can meet you in the library after school, okay?” he said, turning his gaze to Tommy’s hollering from across the cafeteria. He waved him over with both hands, like a sailor on a sinking ship, trying to beckon Steve back to where he belonged. Steve nodded, holding up his index finger, he only needed one minute.

“Sure, yeah that’ll work.” You said, fiddling with a thread hanging from the edge of your grey sweatshirt. You’d painted a little pink flower on the inside of the sleeve. When Steve saw it, he couldn’t help but smile at it; it looked so sweet and earnest.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” He left after that, heading over to Tommy, who was frustrated beyond belief. He took his seat easily, stealing the pudding cup off of Carol’s tray wordlessly.

“What did that freak want?” Tommy asked loudly, his eyes blown wide. Carol was painting her nails, not even bothering to look up from her work. Tommy made no attempts to hide his dislike of you. He’d expected his best friend since the second grade to feel the same.

“She’s nice, we’re doing an assignment together.” Steve replied with a shrug, pulling the plastic covering off the cup, sticking the plastic spoon into the vanilla pudding.

Across the room, Samantha grabbed onto your hands with a giddy grin. “Look at my little girl! She’s got plans, with a boy!” she squealed, swinging your arms back and forth over the table.

“Jesus, can you please stop acting so straight? You’re gonna scare Robin off.” You yanked your hands away, watching with a grin as she turned her attention back to looking around the room excitedly. You let your eyes find Steve in the cafeteria, the buzz of fear filling your ears. You couldn’t believe that you agreed to meet him anywhere. You wanted to disappear.

You couldn’t focus on anything for the rest of the day. Your mind had gone into a feral sort of panic mode, pumping fear through your veins and turning your palms cold. When the final bell rang, it took all your strength and courage to not run all the way home. You knew that if you didn’t show, the problem wouldn’t go away. You’d just have to deal with the results of ditching the next day, and if not done now, then you’d have to deal with it another day. You clutched your books tight to your chest, sitting on the bench outside the library, trying to keep the butterflies from bursting out of your mouth. Your hands kept coming to your hair, trying to fix it or keep it away from your ears, maybe just to comfort yourself. It had dried weird and you worried that it looked ridiculous.

You saw his shoes come up to yours before you saw his face, royal blue Adidas with white and red details and dirty laces. You noted your own dirty white Converse, marked with mud and lyrics to songs that Samantha wrote on the toes. “Hey, you ready to do this?” Steve asked. You looked up and nodded, swallowing hard.

You wouldn’t make eye contact with him again. It was really starting to freak him out. He didn’t know what he did wrong, but it seemed like you really didn’t like him. Still, you’d agreed to help him and he wouldn’t take that for granted. He’d read your essay twice and it was good. He didn’t know much about good writing, but he knew that Mr. Lawrence would like it, that it would get a good grade. And he wanted decent grades too, so he could get into college and get his dad off his back.

The Hawkins High library was fairly quiet after school, most students headed back home or to after school clubs.  Only a few stragglers remained, mostly using electric typewriters and returning books to poor Mrs. Mueller, who always kept the library open till four, waiting for her husband, the head of custodial staff, to finish his work. She smiled at you when you walked in. Mrs. Mueller was a nice woman who let you sit in the library during lunch and always checked in on you when you seemed alone. She was your favourite teacher, despite never having a class taught by her.

Steve chose a table in the dead centre of the room, dropping his blue bag on the wooden chair next to him and pulling out his papers. You carefully followed suite, folding your hands in your lap, unsure what to do with them. Steve smiled at you, sliding the essay towards you “So, what am I doing wrong?” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes, unsure where to begin. You picked up the paper, and then open your notebook, writing down everything the story seemed to be about. Steve watched you, utterly confused.  Once you had every down, you set down your pen. “Okay,” you didn’t look up from your paper, sliding the essay to the middle of the table. “Tell me what your paper is about.”

“What? You read it, you should know.” Steve laughed awkwardly.

“Humour me.” You replied, looking up slowly to meet his eye. Steve’s smiled dropped, looking at you for a second. You broke eye contact first, but he wished he had been able to hold it for a moment longer.

“Okay, well,” he took a deep breath “I wrote about my family’s trip to our cottage on Miami Beach, and I talked about what I did. Nothing much.”

“Okay, because what you actually wrote isn’t really about that. What you told me is that you went to Miami Beach, your parents own a dirty beach house that was your grandparent’s house and that they’re both dead, that your grandfather fought in World War Two and that the medals were framed in the house, that you met a girl on the beach but she didn’t like you, and that the flight was long.” You explained. You still couldn’t believe that he’d fit all of that into a page of work.

“So?” Steve asked. That was all true of his last trip. Mind you, that was way back in middle school and the details were hazy.

“So, that’s a lot of information that I don’t care about. You can cut all of the stuff about your grandparents, which takes up like half of it. And when you cut that, all I know is that the beach house is in Miami Beach and you met a girl and the flight was long. That’s not bad, but I’d like to know a bit more about it.” You said, taking back the essay from the middle of the page and crossed out every line about his grandparents.

“What do I say instead then?” Steve asked, watching as you crossed out half his page, trying not to sound defeated. You were basically saying that he had to start all over again.

“Well, tell me about the beach? Pretend like I’ve never been. What’s there to do, what’d you like about it?” you shrugged. You found yourself feeling a tad bit calmer; the butterflies had calmed their intense flapping and had let you breathe.

Steve sighed “I don’t know, I’m just bullshitting.”

“What’d you mean?” you asked.

“I mean, I didn’t go on there, I haven’t been to our beach house since I was a kid.” Steve looked away. He was embarrassed to have been caught in a lie, even more knowing that now he’d have to rewrite his whole paper.

“Oh…what’d you actually do on your break?” you hadn’t expected him to be lying about anything, a snow bird spring break trip sounded about right for his family, they were always bragging about their money.

Steve chuckled “Oh no, nothing worth writing an essay on.” You looked up at him again. He seemed a bit sad. You pulled another sheet of paper from your trapper keeper, setting it overtop the last one.

“Tell me about it.” You smiled at him despite yourself. He was bit easier to talk to than you’d imagined.

Steve swallowed, nodding despite himself. “Well, I mean my parents went to the beach house and I tried to throw a party, you probably heard about how that went.” He rubbed at the back of his neck.

“No…” you shook your head. Steve wasn’t expecting that. Everyone had heard about the failed party, he’d gotten shit about it for weeks.

“Well, I couldn’t get any supplies, so I cancelled and hung out with Tommy and Carol instead. We got drunk in my backyard and Carol fell in the pool. She was so pissed. Then, I pretty much just hung about town, helped my buddy Dustin beat Dragon’s Lair at the arcade.” Steve didn’t really like admitting how lame his life was, he purposefully left out how Tommy and Carol only hung out with him when he went to pick up some weed from his older brother and they wanted a hit off it. Admitting that his life wasn’t that great made him feel small and like it was out of his control, which was not exactly a good feeling.

“Okay, tell me about the little party you had with Tommy and Carol. What was the night like? Was it fun? Did you jump in the pool too or did you watch her fall and laugh?” You had written down the few details in a bubble tree and added more details as he explained his time more thoroughly. You managed to get a bit more information on both events, learning more about his friend Dustin and the game they played.

When he was finished, you slid the page over to him. He took it, eyebrow raised in confusion, but you spoke before he could ask any questions. “This is your blue print. I wrote down everything you told me; now just turn it into an essay. The whole trick about these assignments is that you’re telling a story, and to make it interesting you have to give us details, and not about your grandparents or other things that don’t add to the story at hand, about what actually was happening.” You explained, checking the plastic watch on your wrist. It was almost four and Mrs. Mueller had already passed your table twice, her silent warning to leave. Everyone else who had been there had long left and you became very aware of how alone you were with him. The butterflies started their flapping again, churning tides in your stomach.

Steve smiled “Okay, I promise it’ll be interesting though.” He chuckled.

You shrugged “I promise that it’s more interesting than what you had before.” You shoved your papers into your bag, standing quickly “If you want me to look at it again before you hand it in, just bring it to me in class, alright? The library’s closing so I should go.”

“You want a ride home?” you spun around to look at him, crossing your arms over your paint splattered sweatshirt. The rain storm of the morning was long forgotten and you didn’t know what the weather looked like now. A part of you wanted to take the ride, but a much bigger part of you told you to run away.

You shook your head “No, um my friend Samantha said she’d drive me after her soccer practise, she’s probably waiting for me.” You lied straight through your teeth, adjusting your backpack straps on your shoulders.

“Oh…sure, yeah, I’ll see you around.” Steve stood slowly, tucking in his chair. You waved politely and headed out. The rain had stopped, thank god, and you rushed to your locker, grabbing your wet clothes from your locker before making your way outside. The field was muddy, practise was probably cancelled. You took the long way home that afternoon, cutting through the woods and the muddy park to avoid being spotted by Harrington on the way and getting caught in a lie.

The afternoon had gone well. And that scared the shit out of you.

[inkedtae]

Hey love can i request y/n at hoseoks studio and she's really horny but he's busy finishing a track for his album. But then he's like if you can get me hard then you can ride me type of shit. So she gets him hard and rides him. Then hoseok sitting occasionally moaning, groaning and thursting his hips up but still working on his track while she's getting herself off ~ spicy anon

warnings; soft dom!hoseok, big dicc!hoseok, hoseok has a collarbone tattoo bc i’m a hoe for that, needy!reader, degradation, light ass play, a lil bit of spanking, begging, riding, shoulder-biting, extremely unedited

It nears midnight. He’s still hard at work. You dropped by a couple of hours ago with dinner, to which he quickly scarfed down then resumed editing. Usually, you’d leave him to his tracks. You’ve made sure he’d eaten and at least took one break, so you would typically let him tire himself out. 

Only today you couldn’t stop craving his presence. All throughout your day, you you yearned or his scent, smile, voice, laugh. You wanted to feel his his arms around you, his length in you. Yes, perhaps you’ve been feeling needier than most days, and it doesn’t help that you knew he’d be in the studio. He’s told you countless times that he can’t think of much else besides work when he’s working. However, this fact only makes you hornier today. 

It also really doesn’t help that the hoodie he “wears” is mostly unzipped and falling off his shoulders. The black rose vine tattoo around his collarbone is on full display, just begging for attention. You cannot deprive it for much longer. You will not be deprived for much longer. 

Rising from your spot on the couch, you tug on your sweater sleeves and make your way over to him. “Hobi,” you somewhat whine while pushing his hair back. The exposure of his forehead further obscures your judgement. Your cravings amplify.  

“Hmm?” His eyes remained glued on the screen. Brows furrowed and lips in a scowl, he doesn’t even spare you a decent syblal of his time. 

You pout. With a tug, tug, tug on his shirt, you mewl, “Hobi...”

He sighs, glancing at you long enough to know where this is going. He takes one of your hands and places a quick kiss upon it. “I gotta finish this track, baby,” he mutters into your hand. This is usually enough for you to give up, but the ache between your legs will not settle for anything short of his cock. 

“Please, Hobi, you’ve been working all day. You didn’t even ask me how my day was.”

Pursing his lips, Hoseok resists the urge to sigh. He looks to you, rubbing his chin. His eyes scan your features then figure, licking his lips when he finds notices the sudden press of your thighs together. A low chuckle escapes him as he smirks. “Is that what this is about?” He questions. “Hmm? Are you horny, baby?”

Flames alight your nerves. They thrash around your veins and heat your body up enough for your chest to somewhat heave. He’s barely done anything, barely even spared you a proper glance, and you’re already losing your breath. You bite your lip and nod. He laughs. 

“This isn’t funny! I’m horny and you’ve been here all day!”

You know he wants to laugh harder, but the glare you shoot him makes sure he doesn’t. With a sigh, he nods. “I’ll tell you what. If you can get me hard, you can ride me as long as you want.” 

“What if I wanna do more than just ride you?”

“Then, you’re just gonna have to get me hard enough.” 

With that, he turns back to his screen. You furrow your brows in confusion. How exactly are you supposed to turn him on when he won’t even look at you? You roll your eyes and tell yourself that you must be at least halfway there. You enthusiasm is usually enough to get him at least semi-hard. He likes an eager girl. But, even more than that, he likes a good ass. You have yet to flash your ass at him and not have his hands all over you instantly. 

You unbutton your jeans and push them off. Your panties follow as well, the cool air of the studio hitting your heat the moment it’s exposed. It makes you shiver with excitement. You can’t hide your smile as you watch him attempt to ignore you. That’s about to change sooner than he thinks. 

Turning around, you lift your sweater up enough to give him a full view of your ass. Now, all that’s left to do is applaud his dedication enough to convince him that’s enough work for tonight. You lean forward and clap your cheeks together. Then, once you heard that strangled gas escape him, you bend over and pull your cheeks apart. Soaked cunt on display, you hear him groan softly. 

“Shit, you’re such a slut. Get the fuck over here.” 

You don’t need to be told twice. Giggling, you hurry over to him and find that he already has his cock out. It’s hard, oozing precum, and ready to be drained. He seems to have been horny for a while and you begin to wonder if he was ever soft at all. 

His hands immediately settle on your ass as you hover over his lap. “Take a seat, baby,” he smiles. 

The glimmer in his eyes heats up your face. You inhale sharply as you lower yourself on his cock. The stretch already has your eyes twitching and mouth agape. 

Hoseok pecks your chin and kneads your plump flesh behind you. “Try to stay quiet, alright? I’m just about done with this track.” 

You nod, gasping quietly as your hips ground into his. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you attempt to keep your needy moans to a minimum. However, soon the pulse of his length and how far it reaches does not give you much of a choice but to scream. He’d smack your ass every time you whine his name too loudly, even if he is also letting out more noise than he should. 

Moans reaching dangerous levels of potential punishments, you latch your lips onto his shoulder. Kisses and little bites over his inked skin seem to be enough to pacify your mewls, but spur on Hoseok’s. He lets out a throaty groan upon the graze of your teeth. He thrusts up into you and whispers, “I swear once this is done, I’m fucking you against the soundboard.” 

[create a moment with me]

[darklingduke]

Finding the Write Words

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Author Note: So, I originally wrote this fic back in July/August of 2019, but I wanted to revamp it with my updated writing style, show my growth as a writer, etc. (And I’m in the process of editing it in order to get it bound in a physical copy because I’m still really proud of this fic) And I figured I would share it here. The original blog I wrote this in was @/probablynothumanish, which has been since deactivated and someone else has that blog title ^^

Summary: In a world where everything that happens on your soulmate’s skin, happens on yours, Virgil Sinclair hides as much of his skin as he possibly can. He believes that it is too good to be true that any one person could be meant to be with him for life. 

Ships: LAMP/CALM, Demus/Intruceit

Chapter One: Ink

Virgil was ten years old when he saw them for the first time. He was sitting at the back of the classroom, staring out the window rather than actually paying attention to the lesson - not that it was anything important. It never was. 

He felt a tingling warmth rise to the skin on his arm, and his first instinct was that his arm had fallen asleep from propping his chin up, his elbow pressed to the hard top of the desk he sat at. But when he moved his arm to try to regain feeling in the limb, something caught his eye. Brows pulling together, Virgil watched as a patch of pink appeared on his skin. 

It looked like…

Paint?

But that didn’t make any sense. 

When was the last time he had painted anything? Art class was yesterday and he didn’t have it again until next week. And even if it had been today, he usually tried to steer clear of pink, not wanting any of the other students to pick on him for using such a “girly” color. 

Deciding he was most likely imagining it, Virgil shook his head and tugged his sweater sleeve over his arm, covering the offending mark before turning his attention to the front of the classroom. Maybe he was going crazy. Maybe he’d spent too long daydreaming, and he was imagining things in real life now. 

He would ask his grandma about it when he got home. 

The tingling warmth persisted, despite the fact that he was no longer looking at the skin, for another half hour before it ended abruptly, and Virgil found himself freezing without it. He pulled his arms further into the sleeves of his sweater, seeking out some sort of warmth to soothe himself. He bunched his shoulders until his hands disappeared into the soft, warm fabric, but even that wasn’t enough. 

The rest of the school day went by even slower than usual, which was really saying something. It normally dragged on at such a sluggish pace anyways that it was hard to imagine it being even slower. Virgil had a hard enough time under normal circumstances concentrating on what the teacher was saying, but with the memory of the mark fresh in his mind, it was nigh unto impossible. 

By the time he was called to board the bus, he was absolutely certain that he was going to go insane. The entire bus ride home, his eyes scanned his arm, trying to see the mark through his sleeve, as though it was some magical thing that was going to be visible in any circumstance. About halfway home, he caved and pulled his sleeve up, only to see that there was nothing there. 

What?

So… he had been imagining it, after all. 

He was a little disappointed, to say the least. A part of him had hoped that he was special and had magic powers or something. Maybe he would ask his grandma about it anyways; just explain what had happened, rather than showing her. 

When the bus pulled up to his stop, he ran off of it and right into his grandma’s arms. She was one of the very few parents or guardians who actually bothered to wait at the bus stop; most of them didn’t want to stand out in the cold, so they would either wait to drive up until the bus left, or they would simply have their kids walk home if they were close enough. 

“How was school today, sweetie?” his grandma cooed in a voice that felt like honey. It was always able to wash away his worries, and as they walked home, he was able to forget about the ever-pressing worry that he was hallucinating. 

“It was okay!” he chimed, jumping over a pile of snow on the sidewalk, only to slip on a patch of ice when he landed. His breath caught in his throat as he anticipated his butt hitting the sidewalk full-force, only for his hand to be grabbed in an instant by his grandma, catching him before he fell. 

“Are you alright?” she cooed, though she didn’t stop walking, having been confronted by Virgil last month about babying him out in public. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, heat rising in his cheeks as he hunched his shoulders until the lower half of his face was hidden behind his scarf. His shoulder hurt a little from being yanked, but he was glad that she had stopped him from falling. His pride hurt more than anything, but he knew logically that it wouldn’t last. 

It didn’t take long before they walked into their house - a small two bedroom ranch-style house that somehow always managed to give Virgil the same feeling as eating a home-cooked meal or drinking hot chocolate after a long day of snowball fights. It was just… warm. 

“Gramma, can I talk to you about something?” Virgil asked as he hung up his coat and scarf, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. 

“Of course,” she replied simply. It always amazed Virgil how she never got anxious when he started a conversation like that, but as soon as she did the same to him, he was filled with an undeniable, inexplicable sense of panic. 

“Earlier today,” he started, taking a seat on the couch, “when I was in class, I saw this… thing on my arm. It looked like… almost like… paint?” He rolled up his sleeve to show his grandma the spot where it had been, even though he knew it wasn’t there anymore. “My arm got all tingly and stuff, but then when I looked again later, it was gone.”

“Ohhh,” his grandma nodded in understanding, taking a seat beside him. “Virgil, sweetie, that’s just your soulmate. I guess now is as good a time as any to give you that talk,” she chuckled, such a sweet sound that brushed away his worries. “You know how I told you not to draw on your skin?”

He nodded, remembering the conversation they had had last year when Virgil had doodled all over his skin rather than paying attention to his homework. 

“Well, that’s because everything that happens on your skin happens on theirs, too. Every time you fall and skin your knees, every time you get marker or paint on your hands, every time you get a bruise. And it’s there for them as long as it’s on your skin. Since the paint is gone from  your arm, that just means your soulmate washed it off. No big deal. Their art class probably just ended is all.”

“What’s a soulmate?” he asked curiously, cocking his head to the side. He had heard the word before, of course, on television and in movies, but had never had it explained to him and was always too nervous to ask. 

“It’s one person - or multiple people - that you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with. Normally it’s as partners, you would get married to them, but sometimes it’s just as friends.”

“But…” His brows pulled together. That made him more confused than he had been before he had known. “I don’t get it. Someone meant to be with me? How do I know?”

“Well, you see, the universe - or God, if you believe in that - saw that person, or those people, and thought that they would be a perfect fit for you, so you were paired with them.”

It seemed almost too good to be true, and he had learned in his short years on this earth that if something seemed too good to be true, it most likely was. After his parents had died in a car accident a few years ago, leaving him to be raised by his grandma, Virgil had stopped believing in the fairy tales that claimed happily ever after. 

That was all they were, he came to realize. 

Fairy tales. 

“Were my parents soulmates?” he asked after a moment. 

Sadness flitted over her face at the mention of them, and Virgil inwardly cursed himself for bringing them up. He hadn’t done so since shortly after the funeral. It was just better - easier - to not talk about them. It caused less pain in the long run. 

But she nodded, the sadness dissolving from her face as she forced a smile to her lips.  

“And you and grandpa?”

Another nod.

“Then… then how come he died if you two were perfect together?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she grabbed a tissue from the coffee table, dabbing at her eyes before they had the chance to fall. “I don’t know, Virgil. But I’m sure it was for a good reason.”

He didn’t believe it. 

He couldn’t.

There was no way he would believe that any of this could be real.

Soulmates - the idea that there was someone who was supposed to be perfect for you. It seemed insane. The fantasies of a child. There was no way that whoever this soulmate was was going to be perfect for him. There was no way. People had differences, and they argued, and they fought. And if they didn’t, one or both of them died. 

Virgil didn’t want anything to do with the person who was supposedly “perfect” for him. 

He didn’t want to chance the pain his grandma went through when his grandpa died. 

He didn’t want to get his heart broken the way she did. 

Virgil decided right then and there that no matter what happened, he didn’t want a soulmate.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Twelve Days of Holly, Jolly Tidings - Day 4

Disclaimers: I watched “Dash & Lily” the other day on Netflix. This story is LOOSELY based on that book and Netflix series.  I do not own “Dash and Lily” or Newsies or anything recognizable within the series.  There are occasional curse words throughout the series, nothing too horrible but there’s some. 

Monday, December 16

Walking into The New York Times that morning, she smiled at the guard as she scanned her ID to let her onto the elevator. Pressing the 14th floor, she glanced around the elevator and sighed, letting her head hit the back of the wall. Mentally, she counted along as the elevator climbed before it stopped at her floor, as she scooted out of the small space. Taking a deep breath, she made her way to her cubicle, dropping her bag on her desk. She smiled, seeing a pink padded envelope on her desk. Taking a seat in her very comfortable chair, she quickly opened the padded envelope, her smile increasing as she pulled out the very familiar notebook. 

Good morning Kat!

Happy fourth day of Christmas. I hope your morning has started off swimmingly- if not, I hope this brightens your day.   I’ve got quite the challenge for you today.  You’re going to have to put on your investigator’s hat  today to find your surprise. 

You’re going to have to go into the basement - I know you hate it down there but I promise this will be well worth it. You’re going to have to find the New York Times from July 1889 . . . there’s a certain story that gripped the headlines. Read the story and that’ll lead you to the next clue. 

Looking over her desk, she had nothing that couldn’t wait until the next day. She had turned her articles in for the week and needed to do some research for an upcoming story. Standing, she grabbed her bag, sighing. She really hated the basement - it was so quiet that it was creepy.  Grabbing the notebook, she stuffed it into her bag, swinging it across her shoulder. 

Hitting the button for the elevator, she headed to the basement. Trying to psyche herself up, she knew she needed to get in and out without creeping herself out. 

Stepping into the quiet basement, she flicked the lights on before walking farther into the abyss. Her eyes adjusted the dim lights before walking over to the beginning of the archive. She had spent enough time in that basement that she had the layout down pat. Heading to the filing cabinet for that particular decade, she pulled it open, coughing as a cloud of dust escaped. 

Grabbing the notebook from her bag, she set it on top of the filing cabinet. She grabbed a newspaper from July 1889, scanning the front page. Nothing jumped out at her as she continued to review papers. It wasn’t until she came across the July 19, 1889 edition, did she find a sticky note attached to the paper. 

Continuing reading the notebook

She quickly scanned the article about the Newsboys Strike. She smiled reading it - it had always fascinated her when she read the story about how a group of kids had come to fight her great grandfather. 

So you found the article. That was the thing that initially drew me to you. I had overheard you in the library the day before we “officially” met. You were working on a project regarding the Newsboys Strike and the way you talked about those boys and what they accomplished with such passion, I knew I had to at least meet you. What I didn’t anticipate was falling in love with you - but I don’t regret it for once second. 

Over the last 5 years, you have opened my eyes to so many things that I probably would’ve never ever thought about. You’ve always challenged me to think outside the box and expand my horizons - and I’ve never thanked you properly.  I know I’ve told you this but I’m going to write it down so that it’s in ink - you’re brilliant, amazing, and always keep me on my toes. I never know what you’re going to surprise me with and I hope that you never stop doing that. 

Pausing in her reading, she wiped away a few stray tears that had clouded her vision. Jack was a sweetheart, he always had been. But this was a new side to him. 

But now, you have to go on another adventure.  Try to find the New York Times paper from September 19, 2014 - there you’ll find a thing or two. 

Grabbing the notebook, she pushed the drawer shut before walking further into the room. She passed many file cabinets before finding the one that housed the 2012 through 2015 archives. Pulling open a draw, she saw that she had guessed the right drawer.  Searching the drawer for the September issues, she quickly found them before flipping through until she found the 19th - an envelope was sitting there awaiting her.

Picking it up, she slid her finger under the flap, ripping it open.  A photo and a charm was inside. She looked at the photo first. Holding it up, she smiled seeing it was the first photo her and Jack had taken together - her roommates had demanded that she take a photo with the mystery boy so that if she didn’t turn up at the end of the night, they would have a photo of her killer. She had laughed but complied with their request. After their date, she had printed it off and placed it in a frame that sat on her desk through the remaining days of college before moving it to her desk at the Times. 

Slipping the photo back into the envelope, she grabbed the charm. It was a newspaper charm, the paper rolled up as it used to be when the Newsboys would hawk the newspapers. 

Congratulations, Kat. You figured everything out. I figured I’d shake things up a bit. The Newsboys article is obvious why I picked it but do you know what September 19 means? 

Stopping her reading, she thought back to September 19. As she flipped through the last few years, nothing really stood out on that particular date. Other things around those dates stood out but September 19, as much as she recalled, was a normal day. 

I’m guessing you don’t know what that date signifies. Since you don’t know, I’ll clue you in. That was the day that I heard you talk about the Newsboys Strike. I “accidentally” ran into you on the 20. But truth be told, it wasn’t really an accident that I ran into you - I kinda staged it but in the end, I think it’s all worked out. 

She laughed, shaking her head. Now that she thought about it, it was in September that she had run into Jack and the rest, as people say, is history. 

And the charm - a newspaper - is kinda self explanatory, I think. I’m in awe every time I watch you write an article or do research. It’s really special to see you work and watch you connect the dots, all very quickly, in a matter of seconds.  

I’ll see you later tonight for our date night. I love you! 

Jack 

Closing the notebook, she stuffed it back into her bag. Making sure she had everything, she shut the lights off, heading to the elevator, getting back to safe terrority.  Once in the elevator, she let out a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding. Chuckling to herself, she shook her head as she left the elevator, making her way back to her desk where a gorgeous bouquet of flowers greeted her. She looked around the floor but no one was near her desk. 

Dropping her bag on the ground, she pulled her chair out before her eyes swept the bouquet. Bright colored roses, Alstroemeria, Gerbera Daisies,  and Carnations were arranged in a pretty vase. Her eyes searched the bouquet for a card, and grinned, pulling it free. 

Kat,

Just wanted to say that I love you and that I’m looking forward to our date tonight. Hope you have a wonderful day at work and I’ll see you at 6pm. 

Love, Jack

He was something else, she smiled. If she didn’t know it before, she would be convinced that he really was the sweetest man in the world.  Four days down, all making her days, and looking forward to what the remaining eight days held.

[sheblah]

Oh my god i lov ur art so much!! Ur so good at drawing ppl!!!i lov how u draw DT so much i could cry!! Would it be possible to show ur art process?

Oh my gosh thank you!! No one has ever asked for my process before. It got pretty long due to all the photos, so check out my art-process-slash-tutorial under the cut!

1. So the first step is, of course, figuring out what I want to draw. This is often the hardest step… but not for the last few months cause I always wanna draw DT lol.

2. Sketch the shapes and the “skeleton.”

I pull out my trusty mechanical pencil and make a loose outline of the figure.You’re not really supposed to use mechanical because they makes dark lines and the pressure is hard to control. Teachers will tell you to use a hard graphite pencil for light, easily erasable lines. If you’re using this process as an example for some reason, do as I say not as I do lol.

I like to start with an oval for the head and work my way down. You’re not supposed to do that either. Teachers tell you to start with the “line of action” cause it helps make the pose cohesive and improves composition. I’ll do that when I’m going for a non-static pose, Teach, get off my back.

2. Flesh out the figure.

Here’s where I make the lines. They’re called contours but they’re the lines of the drawing. That’s all. DT might be tricky for some artists because they’re very androgynous. I give ‘em some hip, shapely leggy, no boobs, wide shoulders and a snatched waist waiT I FORGOT THE FUCKING TAIL HOLD ON I GOTTAJ UST HOLDO N A MINUTE WAI

3. Add detail.

This is where I work on the facial features and things like jewelry and clothing design. I count it as a separate step because I have to lean in reeeeeal close to get the little details right, and it usually takes a lot of erasing before I’m satisfied.

4. Ink it.

Once my pencil drawing is sufficiently finished (and sometimes earlier shh), I start inking it with a felt tip pen. Some people use this thing called VaRyInG LiNe WiDtH or whatEVER but it’s easier to I like a nice thin line all throughout the drawing so the details don’t get lost. I use a .1 or .05 tip pen. For tiny details, I like to use a .005 if I have one! But I don’t have one :’(

If you’re the artist’s girlfriend, you have a step at this stage!

4.b. Watch your future wife slave over the drawing for three days without adding the tail and SAY NOTHING.

5. Erase the pencil.

KEY: the pen must be dry. Felt tips are supposed to dry fast, but don’t be fooled. Give it at least a full minute. Trust me. Then CAREFULLY run a big eraser over the whole drawing to get rid of the pencil sketch underneath. Hold the edge of your paper in place and go slow, because the eraser WILL catch on the paper and it WILL fold your beautiful line drawing in half.

6. Clean up the lines.

An optional step. If I make some lines I’m not satisfied with, all is not lost. I use my handy white gel pen to clean them up. I simply draw the new line, and go over the old one with the gel pen.

Note that this doesn’t really work if you want the new line to be on the inside of the shape. Markers don’t like to go over gel pen so good. I’ve tried. Also doesn’t work if you’re planning to add a background for the same reason.

Et voila! You can hardly even see where the old line was.

7. Whip out the Bucket of Assorted Alcohol Markers™ and do the flat colors.

Everything I’ve put on this blog so far has been colored with alcohol markers. They’re long-lasting, they’re smooth, they’re printer-perfect, they’re outrageously expensive, they’re sometimes available at wish.com for a fraction of the store price, they’re great. When you do the flat colors, you want to put down the lightest colors in the drawing first. You can’t layer light colors on top of dark. They won’t show up and the light marker will absorb the dark color. Basically, do the highlight colors first. They might look bad together. That’s OK. These aren’t the final colors of the drawing.

If you don’t have your own BoAAM™, no problem. Simply borrow your sister’s in exchange for a stint with your Nintendo Switch.

The next step is to add the shadows. If you’re like me, and you’re just getting back into art after neglecting it for a few years, don’t try to do something complicated like back-lighting or a sheer scarf on top of a dark material. That’s really the worst decision you can make.

8. Add shadows that indicate back-lighting, and keep in mind the sheer scarf on top of the dark dress will need all new colors for every layer of shadow you choose to add.

A whole book could be written on how to color shadows, so I’ll try to keep it brief. If the light source is warm colored (like sunlight or your average lightbulb), the shadows should be cooler. If the light source is cool (like, I don’t know, the neon sign at your favorite club), the shadows should be warmer. Here I have light green and hot pink for the highlights; I used blue-green and purple for the shadows, respectively.

You might wonder why I color the entire shape with the lighter color if only a little bit of it shows through. There is some layering effect with markers. The purple I used on the dress was really QUITE purple - but when put on top of the hot pink, it looks more like a dark pink! Essentially, layering colors makes the end result more cohesive. 

And hey don’t forget the tai– fuck.

9. Add some more shadows, and

10. Add the finishing details, because I forgot to take a picture in between these two steps oops.

If you’re going for intense lighting, you’ll want high contrast. That means using a very light highlight and/or a very dark shadow. So, I added two (2) more layers of shadow. It’s most noticeable on the dress - you can see the hot pink at the edges, then the pinkish-purple, then the dark purple, then the DARKER purple that accentuates the waves in the fabric of the dress.

Now to finish off my drawings I whip out the white gel pen again. This is SO useful. It can go on top of (dry) marker or pen or whatever and it’s small and precise. Here I used it to add shinies on the eyes, shinies on the jewelry, highlights on the hair, and sparkles on the dress. It makes things POP. I seriously cannot recommend a white gel pen enough if you do traditional art.

11. Ah fuck I forgot the tail.

DRAW the fucking tail and TRY to remember which of your 24,124 colors you used on the rest of the skin damn it was it hydrangea blue or phthalo blue

12. Scan it. Or, if you’re like me and are stuck in a hotel while your home repairs are taking pace, take a picture with your phone. Mind the angle - make sure your camera/phone is parallel to the paper or it’ll get distorted.

13. Digital editing. Play with the exposure and contrast and whatnot in your phone’s photo editing software until you’re satisfied with the result.

15. UPLOAD. DONE. CELEBRATE.

[swordarkeereon]

Tech Review for Writers: reMarkable2

I got myself a piece of interesting tech this year in hopes it would get me from out in front of a computer screen more often. Meet the reMarkable2, a distraction free (i.e. it’s not connected to the entirety of the internet) e-ink tablet workhorse that’s easy on the eyes.

The reMarkable2 Tablet

First things first. The reMarkable2 tablet is not for everyone and your average person probably won’t find it the least bit useful. So let’s talk about why you don’t want this tablet first.

reMarkable 2 is not for you if: 

– You want an eReader.  eReaders have a VERY DIFFERENT function than the reMarkable2. Yes, you can read PDFs on a reMarkable, but it’s more for *marking up* a PDF and commenting in the margins of a PDF. Not just reading. eReaders like Kindles and Nooks often have built in dictionaries, ways to bookmark pages or passages of text, etc…  that the reMarkable2 doesn’t have. You can search your documents for specific phrases and words and also highlight things in a light gray, but if you’re just looking for an eReader, I suggest a Kindle.

– You want a full functioning tablet that you can put apps on and surf the web with- If you’re looking for a full functioning tablet, you’ve missed the whole point of the reMarkable2. The main point behind reMarkable2 is so you can go to your creative place (wherever that may be) and brainstorm, free from ALL distractions. You can’t stop to surf FB or your Twitter feed on a reMarkable2, thus making it more likely you’ll stay on task and get more done.

– You want something with color so you can highlight because what you really want is a fully functioning ebook reader or tablet. This tablet is really more of a no frills brainstorming and note-taking tool for entrepreneurs, professionals, academics, and creatives (including engineers, writers, musicians, possibly artists if they like to sketch in black and white) who use a lot of black pens and plain paper.

I bought the tablet for the following reasons (which I wrote down BEFORE I received the device):

– I wanted an electronic notebook (not a tablet). I’m one of those people who goes through 3 packs of sticky notes every month, and countless notebooks every year. I am constantly jotting stuff down to keep myself focused and on track while running my own business and helping out at the family business.  My notes can be anything from putting together presentations, classes, and meetings, to extensive to-do lists for the day. Sometimes it’s just me keeping track of sales figures. As a result, my desk is always filled with papers and notebooks and I’m constantly searching for shit. The electronic notebook cleans up all this clutter and helps me organize my brain. (Have you seen my brain!? It’s a mess in there.)

– I  like to write freehand, especially when I’m plotting the next book or writing a blurb, or even writing a chapter – and it must be distraction free. This is something only fellow authors will understand. The fact that the reMarkable2 can convert handwritten notes to text sent via email has me excited because, if I’m lucky and it works, I won’t have to go through and transcribe all my handwritten notes. It basically saves me time by eliminating a step. I can copy/paste the note from my email into the appropriate file on my laptop. This will also save me the clutter and weight of carrying countless notebooks.

– I am involved with projects that require me to sketch out ideas for marketing and/or artwork. I do have tablets that can do this, but nothing that does it *well*. The closest is my Surface tablet, which can do a lot of things, but it still doesn’t feel like paper or allow me the fine detail paper allows. I’m hoping this tablet is a bit more responsive in this area. – I am forever printing out rough drafts of manuscripts for markup – wasting a ton of paper and toner in the process. All because I can’t edit on a backlit screen. My eyes get tired and I miss too many errors. If I can transfer my PDF drafts to the reMarkable and mark them up there with minimal errors left over, I could save some $$. I am actually estimating that I could easily save the cost of the reMarkable2 in 6 months to 1 year’s time by not having to purchase the paper, pens, and toner I usually go through in that time frame.  Plus, these marked up manuscripts often end up in a stack on my office floor for 6 months to a year after publication. 

– I am forever having to read PDFs of laws and regulations for the family business, and while I usually use them on the computer, I sit in front of a computer 8-13 hours a day. I need a non-backlit screen for reading in the evenings just to give my eyes a break.  Yes, I imagine I could do the same with a Kindle paperwhite, but I may just want to jot some notes in the same way I’d mark up a paper copy. I’m still a pen and paper girl. I’m really hoping the reMarkable is my replacement for that (most of the time anyway).

reMarkable2 test to sample the pen styles.

Some considerations I took into account before purchasing:

A lot of customers complained that it took too long to receive the reMarkable or to get support. From all of the research I did, and in reading their website, it’s clear to me that this company caters to academia and businesses. I ordered my reMarkable2 on January 16, 2021, and had it in my hands by January 25, 2021. 9 days. I also ordered it and paid for it through my business. I don’t know if that’s actually why I got mine so fast, but I wouldn’t be surprised. That said, I do think the company should work a little harder to increase their customer service efficiency. 

With regard to customer support – the website clearly states it can take up to 10 business days for support to get back to you. And a lot of the things people seem to be complaining about have troubleshooting instructions on the website. Clearly people weren’t going to the website to try to look up their issue through the support FAQs, which likely would have helped them out sooner.  They were just contacting support immediately, and angry when they weren’t getting a response after 3 days, when it’s clearly stated on the website that it can take up to 10 days due to the fact that reMarkable is a small company. But like I said earlier – they would be smart to increase their customer service team.

reMarkable’s folios are a custom fit and really pretty, but a bit pricey. I made the tablet more affordable by skipping the upgrade on the pen, because a friend of mine got the eraser feature and she wasn’t digging it initially (she loves it now), and I purchased a relatively nice folio from Amazon for under $30 (with no magnets – research told me magnets can cause dead spots in the screen of the reMarkable2). You can also just buy a 10″-11″ tablet sleeve and it would work much the same. There are also universal tablet folios that will fit 10″-11″ tablets that are free of magnets and will likely work just fine. All for under $20 bucks — even a few in faux leather. Remember that a case should protect your investment, not just make it *look* sharp. 

Right out of the Box.

Right out of the box I set the reMarkable up and started using it for brainstorming. Here were my first impressions:

1. It really is pretty damn close to writing on paper.

2. You can rest your damn hand on the screen and it won’t fuck things up or make it wobble as with traditional tablets.

3. My handwriting actually looks like my handwriting and you have almost the same control with this as you would with real pen and paper.

4. The interface is simple and intuitive and anyone who uses computers and tablets day and in day out will have no issues figuring this out.

Now some thoughts on the features:

Handwriting to Text: As an author who likes to occasionally spend time writing the old fashioned way, one of the things that attracted me to this tablet was its ability to translate handwriting to text. No writer wants to have to transcribe their written notes and waste all of that time. So of course I tested it with my horrific handwriting, vs purposefully trying to be neat, and the reMarkable2 was able to convert my chicken scratch into actual text that I could read. I was able to turn the handwritten notes into a PDF, but I was also able to send the handwriting converted to typed text as the body of an email, where I was able to cut and paste it into any program I wanted. I took it further and wrote 1000 words (about 8.2 pages) longhand. It converted all the pages to text in one swoop and I was able to copy/paste it into my manuscript. While there was a little formatting and editing involved — it was a lot faster than retyping handwritten notes. WIN! 

Handwriting for conversion test.

Conversion successful

PDF Transfer, Markup, and Signature: Transferring PDFs to the reMarkable is easy. You simply download the app on your phone and your desktop, and you can take any pdf from either device and import it onto your reMarkable, which you can then markup. I sent myself a slew of PDFs that I had to read and markup. It’s amazing how much more focused I am on a screen like this. I really got the same experience with editing on a digital PDF as I did with editing on a paper copy. My only caveat is that I don’t have more space to make notes since the margins are a bit small on the screen and there’s no “back of the page” to carry notes over to. I can likely manage. Despite that – what a great experience. Goodbye manuscripts all over my office floor!  Hello being able to drag editing work with me wherever I go!    

You can also transfer your PDFs that don’t have an electronic signature option to the device, sign them, and send them back. Talk about HANDY since I do that a few times a month by default. This just eliminates the print/sign/scan. Now I just have to transfer it to the device, sign the document, and email it straight back to whoever sent it. 

Digital Planners may be something I look into for 2022 because reMarkable actually makes them feasible. I tried a tester digital planner, courtesy a friend, on my reMarkable and I have to say – it offers just as much satisfaction as a paper planner. Plus, you can SEARCH large pdfs. It won’t find search terms in your handwriting, but it will find it in your PDF. That’s definitely a handy feature when you’re working with 500 page PDFs. That said, the tablet saves your place (last page you visited) as you’re navigating a PDF, so no need to search for the place you left off. However, there is no way to bookmark multiple pages.

ePub Reading: suppose I could sideload books as ePubs, but I really have no use for this feature. If I want to read ebooks, I use my kindle or the Kindle App on my tablet or phone. Unless I start doing editing of ePubs or want to check out an ePub format for something?  I didn’t buy this as an eReader, and it is terribly lacking as an eReader. Where the reMarkable excels is as a tool for marking up documents. So my guess is it would be great for that if you have a lot of files in ePub format that you have to go over. You also can’t change font sizes for easier reading. You can zoom in and zoom back out to regular size. That’s it. (And this is another reason this is not an eReader.)

Storage: Storage is a little over 6GB (you do not pay for the reMarkable website cloud-sync). But even with about 15 PDFs (some of them really long) on my reMarkable at any given time, I was only at .38 GB. 

reMarkable2 Storage

File System: Like I said earlier – the system is highly intuitive and easy to use. I made folders for my most common notebook uses, then I moved the appropriate PDFs to those folders, and created any notebooks I needed for those folders.

Exporting: You can export as .PNG, .SVG, and PDF.  Handwriting to text can only be sent as text via the body of an email. This is actually great for writing because then you just have to copy/paste from your email into your Word Doc, Google Doc, or Scrivener.

Importing: Imports PDFs and ePubs.

Templates: The templates are great. I generally only use graph paper, plain, and lined paper myself. But I could see how a lot of these would be useful to people. The to-do list is a crappy template just because it requires you to hide your menu to use it (you can’t tick the the checkboxes until you do this). To hide the menu tap the circle in the upper left top of the menu bar. So if you want a partial page to-do list, you can easily make your own checkbox lists using the graph paper option. There are also dot pages for the folks into bullet journaling.

A small sampling of reMarkable2 Templates

Search Feature: You can search within a PDF, but not through your own handwritten text. You must be in the PDF to search it, otherwise you can only search for file names. You can not search across documents for a phrase or word. So if you’re looking for something with the same search capabilities as a laptop or possibly a tablet, you won’t find it here.

Zooming: You can zoom in on PDF documents and write on them while zoomed. However, you cannot change font sizes to make reading easier.

Battery Life:  On days where I used it heavily (about 4-5 hours), I was using around 15% power in a day because I didn’t put it in airplane mode. Three days of 4-5 hours a day use drained my battery to 50%. So me, as a heavy user, not in airplane mode, will likely get 6-7 days out of a single charge. Possibly more since clearly not every day will be a heavy use day. The device does go to sleep after 10 minutes of inactivity.

Pen:The pens are a bit pricey. I did not buy the expensive pen with the eraser and I’m okay with that. But $60 for a pen is still a bit — ouch. 

Pen Nib: I am expecting I will be one of those poor unfortunate souls who will be replacing pen tips every 3-4 weeks during heavy use. Luckily the pen itself doesn’t use batteries. The pen nibs seem reasonable in price, just be sure to order a new pack with your device and when you start that pack, order another as shipping times on those can take a week or two depending where you are and how efficient your mail service is. You don’t want to accidently run out and find yourself without a pen. Yikes.

Security: You can add a password to your reMarkable to keep prying eyes out. But if you’re like me and self-employed, that’s not really an issue. Your remarkable has Wi-Fi, yes, but you can put it in airplane mode to cut the connection. Plus, it only syncs to your cloud storage. There really aren’t any entry points for viruses or people hacking into your device. But then I’m also not a tech person. Let’s just say I highly doubt security will be a huge issue on this thing. Besides, anyone who wants to take a peek at my tablet would likely find themselves bored stiff, unless they like reading really rough first drafts of speculative fiction.  LOL

Backup/Download: You can easily transfer your files back to your computer by opening the app and simply exporting your finished documents, etc… to your computer, backup drive or cloud drive. You can also just email yourself a copy to make it super easy.

My Wishlist:

1. I wish I could add or append new, handwritten pages to an existing PDF. That would definitely solve the space issue. Now, I just make notes in a different file and jog back and forth between the PDF and the notes, which is a little annoying, but doable. One way to solve this issue would be to save all your PDFs to double spaced. It might make markup a little easier. I’ll try that with the next books to go under the editorial knife.

2. I wish there were cheaper alternative covers. My $17 cover looks great and protects my tablet. reMarkable could easily come up with a few additional low-cost choices here. The ultra professionals are still going to buy nice leather folios. 

(I may add to this list in the coming weeks, but right now these are the two main things jumping out at me.)

Overall Review Summary

For writers, reMarkable2 truly is a remarkable distraction free device that can help improve your concentration and organization, give you the freedom to write out longhand and convert it to text without the tedious re-typing, and help you mark up drafts with ease. This would probably serve prolific and professional writers more liberally than the writer who takes a few years to pen a book. Plus, it will probably save you a lot of printer paper, toner, pens and notebooks. For business owners/users – reMarkable will likely save you pounds of sticky notes and legal pads, and hours of time transcribing your notes. Plus, it’s a great on-the-go working tool for content creators and people who review a lot of PDFs. 

Have some thoughts on the reMarkable2? Feel free to leave a comment below!

[stoopsbookstore]

The Fan (Chapter 4)

Warnings - Mentions of suicide, death threats

“Could this be the end of Bloom?!”

The onlly sound in the ATEEZ studio coming from the TV used for viewing photos, the seven members mute while Hongjoong was typing something on his phone.

“Aya, the leader of the young group, has been rumored to have been kicked out of Bloom due to the injury she sustained at their recent ‘Full Bloom’ concert. The police are looking into the incident as the arena where the event was held as there is suspicion it may have been sabo-”

“This is bullshit,” Jongho threw a pillow, narrowly missing the TV screen, “They’re dragging the other girls through the mud, it’s not fair.”

“It’s also not fair for Aya to be kicked out of the group just because an accident,” Yeosang pointed out, getting in Jongho’s face, “you would be calling foul if it was your precious Sanghee.”

“That’s low and you know it, Kang!”

The other boys had to pull Yeosang and Jongho apart, the two trying to land punches on each other’s jaws.

“Calm down!” Hongjoong got in between them, “save your energy for something else. That dickwad you’ve been obsessed just posted.”

Everyone took out their phone, the post haunting them as the words and accusations sprung off the page.

I’ve seen all of your responses.

All of your anger is displaced. I may not have made a statement until just now, but I have a very interesting photo I think all Blooms were like to see.

Attached to this post is a photo I have of the fansite Triple Notes going backstage. Whatever the reason, I felt obligated to share this.

As for Aya, it’s a tragedy that Bloom possibly has lost a member. But I trust the KQ company in that they will do what’s best for the members.

Until we meet again

-Milton

“Yunho, that’s you!” Mingi opened the photo, Yunho the starring figure going towards the backstage door with his bag.

Yunho’s phone started blowing up, tweets aimed at him for being the culprit behind Aya’s injury. Comments calling for him to close his fansite, others defending him, saying it’s photoshop and others even calling for him to die or kill himself. The group started yelling over each other again, Yunho trying to explain the photo.

“He was with me and Hongjoong!” Wooyoung shouted, the others silenced, “There was two times where us three weren’t together, the first when I had to take a shit when we got there and the second was when Hongjoong got kicked out and he went to the mall.”

“That’s the thing, when you went to the bathroom, I walked by the backstage door,” Yunho confessed, the boys all varying degrees of disappointed, “but I promise, I swear to God, I did not go in that door, I took a few photos and that was it!”

“Where was Hongjoong?!” Mingi interjected, noting that there was a third person there.

“I was with him, he literally just took 4 photos and we walked to get something to drink,” Hongjoong snapped back, answering his ringing phone, “if you want proof, check his camera.”

Yeosang yanked Yunho’s camerabag off the table, looking through it to find the aforementioned photos, the fourth one is of a bodyguard that yelled at them to get to their seats. Yunho ripped the camera out of Yeosang’s hands, the six members hanging their heads in shame.

“Now if you fuckers are done accusing me, I’m going to go edit photos.”

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

“Because of the recent events with Aya’s ankle and now the flowers for Y/N, we are going to be not only uping security, but we’re going to be moving you girls for the time being.”

Their manager, Jieun, gathered the girls in the dorm room’s living room, Aya resting her leg on the table, the situation seeming like with each passing day, it’s going to get more dangerous.

“My sister has a guest house that you girls will be staying at, she has a son who will stay there for safety. His name is Hongjoong, she says he does know who you are, but doesn’t really listen to your music, he’s more of a N.Flying guy.”

“How long does we have to pack our stuff?” Chinsun asked the older woman, who was checking the time on her smartwatch.

“About 45 minutes. I’m so sorry this happened to you girls and KQ will make sure to try their best to keep you safe,” Jieun clapped her hands together, all of the girls standing up, going to pack their bags, “we will get this solved immediately.”

Y/N and Sanghee entered their shared room, the vibe in the space dark. Y/N solemnly grabbed her suitcase from the closet, Sanghee bawling her eyes out.

“Sanghee, please don’t cry,” Y/N wrapped the younger member in her arms, trying to calm her tears, Sanghee’s body shaking from the emotions, “this will be over soon, I promise. We’ll be fine, Aya will be fine, she’ll be back.”

“That’s not what I’m crying about,” Sanghee broke the hug, looking at Y/N, a confused look plastered on her face, “I mean I am, but that’s n-”

“Sanghee, what happened?”

“Nothing. let’s just pack.”

“You can’t just cry like that and say it’s nothing,” Y/N sat Sanghee down on her bed, “is someone going after you?”

“To be fair, someone is going after all of us.”

“I’m not going to force you to share, but you need to talk to Jieun if someone is targeting you.”

Y/N got up from the mattress, cleaning off her desk, making sure her laptop and makeup is safe in the luggage. Sanghee sat in silence before doing the same, making sure Y/N can’t see a note that had been placed after the window in the morning before the older member woke up. Sanghee opened it, re-scanning the awful words that had been written in red ink.

If you share this with anyone, you’re dead.

Drop out of the group or else.

[crazyfreckledginger]

Warlords x Reader - “Fluff Army” [Part 1]

Struggling to keep up with the pace of the preparations for the arrival of the Uesugi-Takeda alliance as well as helping everyone around the castle made you very very overworked. The Oda forces, having understood this, decide to put their pet’s care inside your hand instead of working you hard. After discussing the ceasefire, both side go on the search for you and find a promising scene that only melt their heart.. some more than others.

A/N: I honestly don’t know what went through my brain when I wrote this, it was supposed to be cute but it turned out chaotic, blame the warlords! Also, don’t mind the edit, I know it’s bad but I don’t have the time to think over it.

"Oof," she released a breath as she bumped into a tall frame when pacing around a corner.

"Careful before you trip and fall," the blond grumbled.

Peeking from over the stack of clothes she was carrying, her eyes locked with his.

"I'm so sorry Ieyasu, it's hard for me to see over this, I'll be more careful next time." Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. The man didn't say a word.

"Whatever, just watch where you're going," he glanced away from her, feeling his own cheeks blush before moving out of her way.

"Do you need help with that?" Masamune raised a questioning eyebrow at her, also sliding out of her path.

"No, I'm good." Her grip tightened around the fabrics to make sure none of them were falling off.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" The One-Eyed Dragon interrogated.

"Well, since the last ceasefire, most people around the castle want to look their best, for the most part, the maids, they seem particularly keen to impress Shingen." She paused for a moment before continuing, "the seamstress also want my help to sew them something for him once they've finished with their own orders."

"That damn tiger, stealing all our women, I'm happy he didn't get to your pretty little head, however," the warlord smirked, tapping two fingers consecutively on her forehead.

"I need to go."

"Don't overwork yourself, I'd hate to have to take care of you," Ieyasu mumbled, watching as she nodded and scurried down the hallway to her room.

"Why am I not surprised to see you outside of war council?" A honey dipped sigh was heard behind them.

"I'm not late, I'm with Ieyasu," the dragon defended.

"He has a reason to be out, you don't." Hideyoshi's scowl only grew as he glared at him.

"Well, I'm here now aren't I?"

"Just come on, we has issues to discuss before they get here!"

****

"According to the messenger, they are supposed to arrive in the afternoon." Mitsuhide informed.

"Let's hope (Y/N) will be in bed by then." Masamune added.

"Yes, she needs to sleep." The vassal's motherly tone appeared.

"She's not a child, and it will be during the afternoon, of course she will still be awake!" Ieyasu rolled his eyes.

"She's overworking herself."

"Is she now?" Nobunaga intervened, remembering the kimono she delivered for him this morning.

"Everyone wants to look their best in front of our soon-to-be temporary allies, especially the ladies for Shingen." Mitsunari recounted the information she had told him the day before

"Then make sure she takes no part in the banquet, she need only enjoy." The devil announced.

****

The sun was nearly setting when a herd of mounted horses arrived in Azuchi.

"Still as lively as I remember," Kenshin watched as the numerous markets and shops appeared to be still open.

"Oh, it's you," Ieyasu stated stoically.

"You can at least greet us correctly can't you?! We came all this way after all." Yukimura scoffed.

"Yuki," Shingen warned.

"I apologise for his behaviour." Toyotomi bowed deeply to the four of them.

"As do I," Shingen dismounted his horse and flicked his vassal's forehead.

"Ow!!" He moaned, glaring at his lord.

"This way please."

They walked in silence until the doors before they were greeted by a few maids.

"Good day, Hideyoshi, Ieyasu, ooh, and Shingen, do you remember me?" A girl grinned, locking eyes with smoky grey ones.

"Why of course! How can I forget such a pretty face," he chuckled.

"How about me?" Another one chipped up.

"Yes I-" Yukimura pushed him through before he could say anymore.

Kenshin's scrutinizing gaze pierced through the girls, making them cower slightly under his beautiful yet intimidating figure.

"Feel free not to scare the maids," Sasuke spoke.

"Here we are," Ieyasu groaned, interrupting the dragon of Echigo from coming up with a retort to his ninja.

"Any chance my lovely goddess would be in here?" Shingen smiled, before it fell completely, "nope, clearly not." His eyes scanned over the men that were patiently waiting for them to arrive.

"You won't be seeing her." Nobunaga spoke.

"What is this nonsense you speak?" The warlord's hetechromia eyes shot daggers at his rival.

"What? Afraid we will 'intoxicated' and 'pollute' her?" Yukimura mocked.

"Yes, actually." Mitsuhide snickered.

"What?!" Shingen and Kenshin nearly screeched.

"Does she even know we are coming?" Sasuke asked.

"She does, but we have given her the task to take care of our- the animals roaming around in the castle gardens so she doesn't have to see you." Hideyoshi intervene.

"How cruel of you to overwork such a wonderful person just so she couldn't see the people who came just to have a glimpse of her again." Shingen frowned.

"She's overworking herself, the responsibility she had in organising the banquet has changed to playing with animals, she loves that, curiously." The snakes eyes narrowed as they locked with the ninja's.

"Enough of this, I don't want to be here anymore, let's finish this." Kenshin stood in front of Sasuke, glaring possessively at the fox, who innocently looked away.

****

The sky was filled with beautiful shades of yellow, pink and purple when they finally ended council.

"Now to see my lovely goddess" Shingen grinned happily.

"Not over your dead body!" Kenshin intervened.

"Where would (Y/N) be?" Sasuke turned to Hideyoshi.

"Around." Masamune answered vaguely.

"Why thanks," the light brown-haired vassal scoffed.

"Normally in the gardens," Toyotomi finally admitted.

Without another moment of hesitation, the Oda's enemy skipped towards the gardens.

"(Y/N)?" Kenshin asked firmly.

"Where is she?" Mitsunari peered from around the doorframe, squinting in an attempt to see her standing somewhere around the small pound.

"What's that over there?" Nobunaga pointed to the base of a tree, among the grass.

Hastily, the Takeda-Uesugi allies moved to inspect the unknown figure in the grass.

"H-huh?" Their eyes went wide as they recognised the woman they were waiting to see.

"What is it?" Nobunaga's vassal's raced to them to see what was going on. Soon after, the rest of the Oda forces peered over the figure.

The most adorable scene was unfolding in front of them.

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