#so I’m trying to ease back into it with small sketches

[cuteniaarts]

Greyscale Midori sketch because I’m low-key artblocked

[lauren-likes-to-type]

Struggle

[Arcane] Jinx x Female Reader

Summary: "You're like my rock, and I want to be that for you, too, even if I don't exactly know how to do it."

Word Count: 3.05k

Content + Warnings: Modern Jinx (Jinx and Reader are in their mid-to-late 20s), insecurities, crying, language (?)

- - - - [Masterlist] - - - -

[A/N]: This is my 100th post on here, and considering my very first story on here (over two years ago) was Jinx, I figured I could sort of celebrate the post count by writing for her again. I'll be posting for all of my current requests after this until they've all been completed, but I just wanted to say thank you all for the support over the past two years. I'm glad you all enjoy my work, especially to the point where you send in requests, and I hope you'll all like the stories I have planned for the future. :)

Enjoy!

Softly, in the corner of the room, a small record player echoed out peaceful melodies, filling the room and replacing the already comfortable silence. You sat in bed, eyes scanning over the pages of a random book you found a few days prior that you were almost finished reading. Wanting Jinx to be relaxed as well, you kept your legs propped up for her to lean against, resting between your feet and resting herself against your legs, letting her head lie snugly on your knees. She kept her arms wrapped around your thighs to ensure you stayed close to her and didn’t disturb the peace.

Her eyes had been closed for a while. Anyone would assume she was asleep. You, however, knew better. It was easy to hear her soft, quick breaths, a total opposite to the deep, even breathing you could often hear from her when she was genuinely resting. Alongside what you could hear, you were able to feel her fingers occasionally tracing random patterns against your skin. It was clear she was trying to be subtle so she wouldn’t ruin your focus on your newfound book, although it wasn’t working.

There wasn’t a disturbance either way since you were already used to her using the tips of her nails to sketch shapes and words on you, though it was still endearing to know she was always actively trying to avoid inconveniencing you. Often, you had to remind her that you didn’t mind how chatty and peppy she could be, and lately you had been encouraging her to just be herself regardless of what was going on. It was a breath of fresh air to have someone so full of life after constantly being surrounded by constant negativity when you had to go to work.

Plus, you knew she was an incredibly kind person at heart. Even when things didn’t go her way, you knew she almost always had good intentions – specifically when it revolves around you. She wasn’t necessarily the best at comforting others, considering she never truly received support herself for so long, but she tried, and that was really all you could ask for.

The very few nights where you’d fall vulnerable to the cruel tricks your mind played on you, she was always there. Always ready to lend an ear, shoulder, words of advice, whatever you needed. During those times, she knew it wasn’t okay to try to crack a joke or make light of the situation until you were calm and stable again, which was something that you couldn’t appreciate more.

Now, while bundled up in bed with Jinx as you read your book, you couldn’t help the smile that brought the corners of your lips up with ease. Your eyes remained on the sepia-toned pages that rested in your hands, though your attention was quickly pulled away when you felt eyes on you. Meeting Jinx’s gaze, her warm smile widened and she lifted her head a bit to look at you properly. “Why’re you staring at me?” You asked, chuckling and tilting your head.

“‘Cause I like looking at you. You’re pretty.”

Nervously, you laughed again, shaking your head and looking back down. “I’m not, but thanks,” you muttered back, fighting back a wince when you felt her shift her body to fully face you. “What? Of course you’re pretty.” She leaned forward, her chest now resting on top of your knees as she slipped her hands upward to cup your face between them. “Did someone tell you you’re not? ‘Cause I’ll kick their ass if they did. Who was it?” A small shake of your head had her increasingly rapid rambling settle down, allowing you to properly respond. “No one told me that, Jinx, you don’t need to kick anyone’s ass,” you replied with another laugh, hoping to ease the growing tension.

“Then… Why'd you say you’re not pretty? Is it because you don’t have makeup on or something? Because you’re beautiful without makeup anyway, so it’s not like you need it or anything. ‘Course, there’s nothing wrong with wearing it, but I’m just saying you don’t need to wear it to look good, y’know?” Before she could start back up on her scattered speech, you leaned to the side and set the book gently down on the nightstand, then lifted your hands and shook them dismissively.

“Jinx, please. It’s so sweet that you think that, really, it is, but I just don’t feel the same way. I never have, if I’m being honest, but I’ve learned to live with it.” Internally, you could already feel the tears beginning to form behind your eyes, prompting you to curse silently to yourself. Why were these types of conversations always so difficult? You’d never been able to accept or believe the compliments people would give you, so why did they keep coming your way? You weren’t entirely sure why you couldn't accept them, though you didn’t want to try to think back on things to find out. Memories were painful, so you tried to avoid them as much as you could.

She seemed entirely baffled at your words, disbelief contorting her features as she let her hands fall to take hold of your own. “C’mon, toots, I’m supposed to be the crazy one, not you.” You raised a brow. “What exactly is making me crazy here?” “Thinking that you’re not good looking. That’s insane to me! You’re one of the best-looking people I’ve ever met.” Again, you shook your head, your smile now feigned as you fought back tears. “You don’t have to lie to me, I’m fine. Like I said, I’ve already gotten used to how I look. I know I don’t look good.”

“Trinket, you know I don’t have the capacity to lie to you. Even if it were life or death, I wouldn’t be able to lie about how incredible you are. You’re pretty, even if you don’t believe it, and even though you might not think I’m telling the truth, I know for a fact that you’re beautiful to me. Inside and out.” Now entirely dismissive, you shook your head again and hugged your arms tightly. “No, I’m not. You can say all you want – tell me everything you supposedly love about me – but I’m not going to believe it. It’s nothing against you, I just know that people aren’t being genuine when they compliment me.”

Without hesitation, Jinx pushed your legs apart and let herself fall down on top of you, her arms snaking their way underneath you and pulling you closer to her. “Well, then I’m just going to have to keep telling you how amazing you are until it gets through that pretty little head of yours,” she murmured, lips pressing themselves quickly against your cheek before her head fell to rest on your shoulder.

“Please don’t do that. It’s only going to make me feel worse,” you replied, and instantly her head shot up to look at you as if you were crazy again. “Worse?” You nodded. “It would just feel like you’re constantly lying to me. I’d only feel more and more guilty every time you said something to compliment me.” Sighing, Jinx shuffled around a bit until she was able to lie beside you and pull you into her chest. “You wouldn’t have any reason to feel guilty for that, though. I’d be saying it myself. It’s not like you’d be forcing me to say stuff like that – I’d be saying it because it’s true.”

Grunting in the process of wriggling your way out of her grasp, you shuffled away from her and crossed your arms over your chest, head drooping and turning away to avoid seeing how hurt she was by your reluctance. “It’s not true, though,” you muttered under your breath. Following your example, Jinx slid her way over to sit beside you again, her hand coming up and gently cradling the side of your face as she turned your head to look at her again. “But it is.”

Already you were growing irritated with the argument – the same one you’ve had with so many people over the past several years. You knew she wasn’t going to give in, even if you managed to give a solid argument, but you also didn’t want her to start causing grief unintentionally, even if she meant well by it. You had never thought you were pretty, or beautiful, or even just slightly good-looking. You’d convinced yourself over the years that you were average at best, and that was just on a good day where your mind wasn’t being cruel to you.

Seeing her gaze at you so lovingly and earnestly, however, was allowing you to bite your tongue and stop yourself from growing overly defensive like you always did about the subject. You didn’t want to upset her. You knew, just like always, that she had good intentions at heart with what she was saying. You weren’t open about this often, so it wasn’t as if she had much to go off of in terms of how you’d react to her trying to comfort you and change your mind about how you saw yourself.

Huffing out a small sigh, you pulled your head away from her hand, letting your focus fall back to the ground. “Look, I know you’re probably being honest about what you’re saying, but-” “No, I’m not “probably” being honest, I am being honest.”

Again, you let a sigh slip past your lips and your shoulder drooped down in defeat. You weren’t going to win against her, though you didn’t want to admit to what you believed was a lie. “Well, either way, my mind isn’t going to change regardless. You could tell me everything you love about me a thousand times a day, and I still wouldn’t believe you.”

“But I don’t understand why you can’t just trust that I know what I’m talking about here.”

“I don’t know either, okay? People tell me randomly that I look good, or that I’m pretty or whatever, but it just never feels true. It feels like they’re lying straight to my face, and I can never believe them, even for a second. I don’t even know why I can't just believe them, but I can’t. I’ve never been able to.”

At first, you hadn’t even realized you had started crying. Not until you felt something dripping against your arms. Looking down, you finally took notice of your blurred vision, as well as the salty drops that trailed down your skin until they dripped and fell to the mattress beneath you. “Oh, trinket,” Jinx started softly from beside you, hand taking yours.

“Please don’t cry. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just want to make sure you know what I think about you. I’m sorry.” As she spoke, she carefully pulled you back into her arms, wanting to make sure she wasn’t making things worse by tugging you against her again. Once you were securely settled leaning on her chest, her free hand made its way up to the back of your head, tilting it down to allow her to comfortably press a small kiss to the top of it. “Please don’t cry,” she repeated just as quietly as before.

It felt like your heart was beginning to break at the sound of her voice shaking and the feeling of her hands trembling against you. She was trying to comfort you, yet you were still somehow upsetting her instead. A sob wracked through your body, and you didn’t have to think twice before you buried your face into her shoulder, partially trying to hide your face as you began to weep in her arms.

No matter how hard you tried, you never seemed to understand her. She was always mentioning how bad she is at comforting, yet you always immediately found yourself wandering to her whenever you were seeking said comfort. Being in her arms alone made you feel incredibly safe, and it was never hard to let the tears flow until you felt better.

Even if your tears stained one of her favorite shirts, she would never get angry. Wouldn’t even get annoyed. She’d simply make a joke about it to let you know she didn’t care, reminding you that she could always change into another shirt. She just wanted you to feel safe and comfortable with her. She wanted you to trust her.

And honestly, with how kindly she always treated you, even when you didn’t deserve it, it wasn’t hard to feel protected and seen when you were with her. You wondered often if you brought her the same kind of unconditional love and trust. Why did she love you so much? She gave and gave constantly, and it seemed like you only ever wanted to take more. How could she not despise you for needing her so badly for the simplest of things?

You shuddered, hiccuping between sobs and trying desperately to pull her as close to you as humanly possible.

“I don’t understand,” you choked out, gaining her attention again and prompting her to lean back far enough to look you in the eye. “Why are you always so kind and patient with me? All I do is upset you and bring everything down, even when you’re trying to help me.”

Upon seeing her bottom lip tremble, brows furrow, and tears grow glossy at your words, your stomach twisted with guilt, already regretting your tone. “Are you kidding me?” She asked with a broken laugh. “You’ve done nothing but bring me joy and laughter since I met you. Sure, there are moments like these where everything’s sort of… glum, I guess, but that’s just a part of life. Before I met you, I felt like it didn’t matter what I did with my life because I didn’t have anyone to share my future with.

“And then I met you, and everything felt so important all of a sudden. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have gone to college or gotten a decent job. I probably wouldn’t have even finished high school, honestly, but I did because of you. You’re everything to me, trinket. You make me want to be a better person, even if I’m not the greatest at doing that.

“Besides, you’re always there for me when I need it, especially when I’m feeling down and need someone to lean on. You’re like my rock, and I want to be that for you, too, even if I don’t exactly know how to do it. I know I might not always know what to say, and sometimes I end up making things worse than they already are, but you’ve never once hated me for that. Even when I fuck things up, you’re still here, telling me how much you love me and how you still want a future with me, and I can never tell you how incredible of a feeling that leaves me with.

That’s why I find you so beautiful. And I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s the truth. Whether we’re talking about inside or out, you’re beautiful, and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you in my life. I love every single part of you.”

For a long moment, you were only able to stare up at her, tears flowing freely down your face as you slowly soaked in her words. “You do?” She smiled, nodding. “Of course I do. I could never love anyone the way I love you.”

Wordlessly, your head landed back against her shoulder. You felt your eyes shut as exhaustion began to take over from the crying. Combined with the growing fatigue, the feeling of Jinx’s nails returning to scratch soothingly at the nape of your neck brought a sense of solace that only she could ever bring. It was one of her ways of telling you she was there without having to say anything out loud. “I love you, too,” you finally whispered, sniffling and quickly wiping away your tears before they could continue their journey down Jinx’s back.

If she truly meant everything she had said, then you were doing well to provide her with the same amount of consolation she gave you endlessly. She had done everything for you that she claimed you did for her:

Until you met her, it felt like your life had no real purpose. Meeting her and growing close to her helped you find something to look forward to every single day, even if it was something as simple as waking up to see her asleep beside you. Because of her, you had the courage to finish college and chase after your dream job, all with her nonstop support. You could still remember the way she screamed and cheered for you during your high school and college graduations.

You constantly wanted to be a better person for her and ultimately for yourself, meaning you were always finding new ways to improve how you treated yourself and others, especially her. No matter what mistake you ended up making, she was always there with open arms, welcoming you into her embrace and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as she helped you figure things out.

God, you loved her so much.

You wanted to spend the rest of your life with her.

There wasn’t a single future you could see for yourself where she wasn’t in it, and that couldn’t make you happier.

A yawn slipped past your lips, followed by another sigh as your body finally relaxed into hers. “Y’know, I don’t believe it when people say I’m beautiful. I haven’t for a really long time, but somehow you make me want to believe it.”

She leaned back again, gently cupping your face in her hand. “Well, you should believe it because, like I said, it’s true.”

Humming, you offered her a tired smile before leaning forward and pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips. You could feel her smile against your own before you pulled away, briefly looking her in the eye again before returning your head to its original spot on her shoulder.

“Well, I don’t believe it right now, but knowing you, I’m sure that someday I will.”

Thanks for the support by the way! One follower for every day of the year, friends. :)

Started on: October 30th, 2024 Finished on: October 31st, 2024

[revelboo]

You really write really good stories ✨👌.although I'm already quite addicted to it lol, I literally go offline for 3 days for work and when I come back to read in 10 minutes I've already read everything🫠. btw the "everything will be okay" plot is really good and I'm WILD with Earthspark stories (it became my favorite series and there are almost no Earthspark stories🤧)

I’m just having fun writing my nonsense

Give Up/Give In Pt 13

TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• They’re trying to help. He knows it. Appreciates it. Even if he wants to growl. Just wanting a peaceful meal with you, a chance to sit and talk alone. Not realizing Dorothy and the kids would try to help. Alex had cooked for him, and Hashtag and Twitch had found an enormous plaid blanket to spread out under the tree in the yard. Jawbreaker and the others had found old holiday decorations and bit of broken glass and strung them up in the branches so the sun dapples the grass and blanket in a kaleidoscope of blues and greens. As much as he appreciates the effort, none of it was by his hand for you and it bothers him. You, though? You’re smiling as you tip your head back to look at the tree. “Is this alright?” He asks.

• “It’s gorgeous.” And it is, the kids working to help Megatron spreading warm through you. Even if you’d heard Hashtag whisper something about ‘Team Romance’ to Twitch. The two seeming to not understand that you’re a human and Megatron is, well, Megatron. Completely incompatible, but it is sweet. “I love it.” Easing down on the blanket, you watch Megatron lower himself across from you, still towering over you as he leans his arms on his knees.

• Nudging the tiny basket of food closer to you, he reaches for an energon cube while you make a plate. Wishes he could mass shift, but it’s too risky with Starscream and the other Seekers at large. Can’t leave himself and you vulnerable. “What else do you love?” Your little face tips up, expressive face surprised by the question and he likes that you’re so easy to read, that he doesn’t have to wonder about your motives. “Tell me,” he adds gently, trying to not demand, but he wants to know everything about you. Who you are. What you like.

• Shoulders lifting in a shrug, you push your food around on your plate. “Not much to tell. Honestly, I just work and go home. Pretty boring.” And sad now that you think about it. No real personal life. A job you don’t care for, but can’t quit because there’s so few prospects in a small town. Too scared to try for a bigger city, so you’d gotten stuck. Still are.

• Venting, he reaches to tip your chin up. Making you meet his optics. “What do you like to do? What dreams keep you going?” He asks, voice taking on a wistful edge. Because dreams seldom go the way planned. His dreams of a better world, of freedom had led to a war that had ravaged his home. Reaching up to touch his servo, you offer him a smile.

• “I played violin as a kid. Wasn’t great at it, but I had fun,” you admit, eyes closing. “I used to dream I could be great. That I could play and people would care.” It sounds so silly. You hadn’t wanted to be rich or famous, just wanted to play well enough the music would make people feel something real. “I doubt i even remember how to play anymore.” Laughing softly, you gently push his servo away.

• “You’ll play for me.” It’s not a request, it’s a demand, but you still smile for him. Wants to hear you play, to lose yourself in something that makes you happy. Desperately wants to see you happy and relaxed. Spark warming when you tell him okay. And you take turns sharing things. He sketches out the war and his mistakes in the broadest strokes he can, not wanting you to know just how awful he is. But needing you to know that side of him is there. Listens to you talk about your family in return, offering him little glimpses of who you are. It’s dark by the time he remembers his deal. That he’d promised to take you home. That home isn’t with him.

• “Are you ready to go?” Heart speeding as he plants a palm on the ground and stands, you want to say no. To ask to stay. To take up even more of his time, all of it he’ll allow. You like talking to him, listening to that rumbling voice. Like the warmth of his big servos when he touches your arm or cheek. Like him. But know this can’t go anywhere, that eventually he’ll get tired of your clinging, so you make yourself nod and smile like you’re okay when you’re not.

• Transforming and dropping his ramp, he can feel you walk inside his alt mode. A little hand brushing a wall as you look around his cargo hold and he feels when you hesitate. Making him remember that he’s not had time to clean up, that your blood is still there. “It’s alright,” he says softly, closing his ramp. “You’re safe here.” And you move through him lingering just inside the cockpit while he waits on you to find somewhere to settle. “Sit anywhere.”

• “Sorry,” you murmur, slipping into one of the pilot seats. Because it’s still weird that he’s this giant aircraft now and that you can just walk around inside him. Can he see you or is he just feeling you moving around? Isn’t that weird to him? Sinking into the seat, you look at all the dials and controls and feel a momentary twist of the surreal. Because this is still Megatron. Different, but still him. When the rotors start up, you touch the harness wondering if you need to strap in.

• “You’re shaking, little one.” He can feel you trembling as your little fingers ghost over his harness, touching the yoke when he shifts it. Nervous and wide eyed. “Are you sure this is what you want?” To go home instead of staying with him? Safe where he can watch over you? And your fingers grip his harness. Hates that you’re so frightened right now, because this isn’t a threat he can destroy or attack.

• No. It’s not what you want at all. Frozen, you want to be greedy. To not go back to the real world. To steal a little more time. Listen to him and ask him questions, because what you’ve seen so far doesn’t mesh up with the stories you’ve heard. He’s not a monster, not cruel or vicious. He’s gentler than you’d expected. “I want to stay,” you whisper, the words so soft there’s no way he can hear them over the sound of his rotors, but they slow and stop. Hear him rumble around you. “I want to stay with you.”

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Constructicons: Some assembly required. Can I just ride around in Scavenger’s scoop?

[danverslvrr]

Cardigan

Emily Prentiss x Reader

summary: On a quiet, rainy night, you sketch as Emily offers quiet comfort, sharing warmth and admiration through small gestures that make you both realize you’ve found home in each other.

a/n: this is my first time writing anything on here like ever so idk how well this will go

556 words | nothing but fluff

—————————————————

You sit on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, sketchbook balanced in your lap. The soft, amber glow of the table lamp cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the focused crease in your brow as your pencil moved across the page.

Emily, wrapped in an oversized cardigan, leaned against the kitchen counter, her eyes fixed on you. There was something magnetic about you to her in these quiet moments—the way your sharp features softened in the low light, the way your eyes seemed to hold the weight of everything you saw but never said.

“You know,” Emily said, breaking the silence, “you look at everything like you’re trying to figure it out.”

You glance up, your pencil pausing mid-stroke. “Everything has a pattern,” you reply simply, voice low and even.

Emily crosses the room and settles beside you, curling up on the couch with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. She leans her head on your shoulder, her dark hair brushing against your jaw. “Even me?”

You smirk faintly, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “Especially you.”

Emily laughs softly, the sound vibrating through the quiet. “What have you figured out so far?”

You hesitate, gaze dropping to the sketchbook in your lap. You turn the page slightly, revealing a delicate drawing of a hand—a hand unmistakably Emily’s, with its long fingers and faint scars.

Emily’s breath hitches, her voice quieter now. “That’s me.”

You nod. “You fidget with your nails when you’re nervous. Your laugh is louder when you’re trying to hide something. And when you think no one’s watching, you look at the stars like they might have answers for you.”

Emily blinked, her chest tightening in a way that was both painful and sweet. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice everything about you,” you say, your voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

Emily didn’t know what to say to that, so she leaned in closer, letting the weight of your words settle between the two of you. After a moment, she pulls the cardigan from her shoulders and drapes it over you.

You frown, eyebrows knitting together. “Aren’t you cold?”

Emily shook her head, her voice light but sincere. “You need it more than I do. You always run colder than me.”

You look down at the cardigan, your fingers brushing over the worn, soft fabric. It smelled like Emily—like sandalwood and something faintly sweet—and it settles over you like a memory you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto.

You sat like that for a long time, the rain continuing to fall outside, the music playing softly in the background. Emily’s head rested on your shoulder, and your hand coming up to trace gentle circles on Emily’s arm, your touch light but grounding.

“You know,” Emily murmured after a while, her voice thick with affection, “you make me feel like I’m home.”

You don’t reply right away, but your hand stills on Emily’s arm, your fingers curling slightly. “You are home,” she says eventually, her voice as steady and certain as the earth beneath your feet.

And in that moment, with the rain falling and the world outside forgotten, you both knew that no matter where you were or what storms might come, you’d always find your way back to each other.

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.3

Summary: You've got detention, and Wednesday decides to pay you a visit.

Word Count: 3k Warnings: swearing, mentions of injury Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist) A/N: This is simply a repost. The original part 3 disappeared somewhere, but here it is once again!

There was still an ache in your shoulder when you sat down in your phytotoxicology class. It was decently scabbed (which was beyond itchy) but the actual joint was sore. You had hoped it would ease up a bit over the weekend, but to no avail. Hopefully no one had really noticed your stiff movements. But hey, at least you were left handed.

“You look miserable,” Wednesday said as she sat to your left.

“Shut up, Addams,” you mumbled.

Enid sat behind the two of you, her eyes glued to where your hands were resting on the desk. If you just moved your hand a few inches to the left. And if you could talk just a little louder so she could hear, that would be great. She needed to know what you two were talking about. If it wasn’t about a date then she was going to scream. She just wanted you both to get over yourselves.

Class went on as usual; Enid was forced to bear witness to you doodling in Wednesday’s notebook, completely interrupting her notes. In turn, Wednesday would add rather… violent attachments to your initial drawing, and the cycle would continue. She couldn’t see your face, but your shoulders would shake with silent laughter every few doodles. You were both so close.

“Miss Y/N?”

Your head snapped up, turning toward the front where Miss Thornhill was standing with an expectant look.

“Adonis vernalis,” you said proudly without hesitation.

“Not even close,” Miss Thornhill said with a smile while everyone failed to stiffle their giggles. “See me after class.”

“Aw man,” you mumbled as you slumped back into your seat. All that pep in your step had been washed away.

Quite frankly, Enid thought it was hilarious.

She rushed to catch up with Wednesday as you stayed behind to talk to Miss Thornhill. For such a small person, Wednesday could move really fast. It was starting to become an issue because Enid was not dressed for jogging across campus. God, why couldn’t she just slow down?

“It seems it’s impossible to get away from you,” Wednesday said when Enid finally caught up; she slowed her pace anyway.

“Did you-”

“-No, and I’m not going to,” Wednesday interrupted.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Enid pouted.

“You were going to ask if I have asked Y/N on a date, and the answer is no.”

“Then I give up,” Enid said as she threw her hands into the air. “You two are far too stubborn. Enjoy the friendzone.”

She stalked off, trying not to smile to herself when she noticed Wednesday had stopped walking. With any luck, her plan would work splendidly and you would both be together before Parent’s Weekend in a month. It may have taken her a little longer than planned to come up with such a genius idea, but it was going to be worth it.

——

It was truly a beautiful day to be outside. Overcast skies, a cool breeze, potential for rain. Not the best day to fly, but a wonderful time to walk around. Maybe you could stop by the lake, tease the monsters below the surface. At least you would if you weren’t stuck in the greenhouse.

Miss Thornhill was truly, and you meant this with the utmost respect, a bitch. So maybe you didn’t pay attention in class, and maybe you got a bunch of questions wrong. But that’s what she got for calling on you in class. Had you raised your hand? Had you given any indication whatsoever that you knew the answer? No. So really, this was on her.

And now you were stuck in the stupid greenhouse having to jot down sketches of each plant, their scientific name, and what symptoms they cause if ingested or inhaled. You had only finished maybe a third of the greenhouse and it was already midafternoon. You were never going to be done with this stupid detention.

You didn’t even like plants.

“You look miserable.”

“There’s more than one way to greet a person, you know,” you said without turning around.

Wednesday slid into your peripheral like a wisp of smoke; she always moved smoothly even though she appeared so rigid. Her coat hung off her small frame, and the snood Enid had made her only accentuated that by swallowing what little of her remained. She was reminiscent of the little kids at the park in winter; their parents had bundled them up in the warmest clothing they could find in the house.

“Just let me finish my detention, Addams,” you mumbled as you jotted down another sketch. It wasn’t half bad, actually.

For better or worse, Wednesday stayed silent as you moved around the greenhouse, assigned sketchbook in hand. There was no doubt you were getting 90% of the names wrong, and you were just writing “it’s bad :(“ under the list of symptoms at this point, but you didn’t care. This kind of detention was stupid. Besides, it was a Saturday; you should’ve been out getting coffee or harrassing everyone at Pilgrim World, not sitting in a humid greenhouse practicing your art skills. But no, now you were stuck here and- oh that plant is pretty.

“Don’t touch it,” Wednesday said rather quickly as you reached out to touch the flower.

“Why not?” You asked in indignation, finally turning around to see her. Oh, she’s cute.

“It’s a foxglove,” she answered.

“Wednesday,” you sighed, “if I knew what that meant, I wouldn’t be in here on a Saturday afternoon.”

“It’s toxic to birds.” She rolled her eyes at your incompetence.

“Oh, well thank- wait.” You narrowed your eyes at her and the smallest movement at the corner of her mouth. “I’m not a bird and you know it.”

“You can never be too sure,” she said without hesitation.

“Oh, you’re a prick,” you huffed out. You had to turn back to look at the plants again so she wouldn’t see your poor attempts at not laughing. “Why are you even here?”

“I brought you this.”

She brought me something? You thought. Well know she was just getting desperate if she was going to be bringing you things. You set your sketchpad down on the table, in front of the foxglove that Wednesday claimed to be toxic to birds. What had she brought you-

“-What is that?” You asked once your eyes landed on the small bag in her hands.

“Birdseed,” she said. “It’s a bribe.”

“That better not be for me or I will get offended,” you said, switching your weight to your other foot and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re going birdwatching with me.” She rolled her eyes but held the bag out further for you to take from her.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You asked.

Wednesday Addams did not blush, that was a well known fact. Not a drop of colour would be found on her cheeks, ever. But that didn’t mean she was emotionless; you could tell when the stretch of skin over her cheeks and nose turned a little darker. It was the closest to an uncontrollable show of emotion as she was ever going to get.

And you were absolutely living for it.

“Are you coming or not?” Wednesday asked, completely ignoring your question for clarification.

You wanted her to admit it was a date. Wanted her to swallow her pride and say the word “date” because it’s just what you needed. There was no way in hell you were going to ask first, not when she had always been so clear about her thoughts on what a waste of time relationships were. “Look at my parents,” she had said one night, “limited because they can’t go anywhere alone.”

But you needed her to call it a date. Your hopes were embarrassingly high and you just needed her to say that four letter word. It could only be once and you would be happy. If she called it a date once and then never again until the day you died, you would be content. Just say the word, you thought to yourself as she finally turned her head back around to face you.

“Fine,” Wednesday sighed, “I’ll go on my own.” She turned around and started walking away.

“Wait!” You called after her. She stopped, but didn’t turn around.

You looked around frantically for the rest of your things. What if Miss Thornhill showed up and realised you were gone? And worse yet, what if she realised you sucked at detention? She was going to tell Principle Weems and then you would get another scolding. But pass up on a date with the Wednesday Addams?

Shit.

“You’re a bad influence, Wednesday Addams,” you huffed once you finally caught up to her and you both started walking out of the greenhouse.

You missed the small smile on her face.

——

For all intents and purposes, Wednesday did not like you. If anyone dared to ask, you were nothing more than a thorn in her side, and not in a good way. No, you weren’t as energetic and colourful as Enid, but you still smiled too much. You cracked too many jokes and made yourself too accomadating. Any normal person would have been embarrassed.

No, Wednesday Addams did not like you.

She did not like the way you had talked the whole way to your preferred spot in the forest. “It’s a bit late for birdwatching,” you had said on the walk over, “but it’s overcast, so it might be fine.” She did not like the way you actually took your harness off and ruffled your feathers. Or the way they puffed up a little, “because it’s cold,” you explained with a shrug and a blush on your neck. Then there was the way you were sat still as a statue, birdseed scattered around, just waiting for some birds to stop by.

No, she didn’t like you.

There were absolutely no feelings in her void of a soul when a bird finally did appear, standing directly in front of your outstretched hand. The gentle smile on your face was completely moronic. You would make an excellent side character in her book; the same character that would get herself killed off in the first chapter. Wednesday could see it now; you would be too focused at the park and would get yourself put on a hit list simply because you were an easy target.

She wouldn’t be caught dead watching your feathers ruffle when more birds appeared, flocking around you. Or listening intently to what you were saying to them, holding full conversations as they hopped around and picked at the birdseed you continuously scattered. No, she would not join you on the ground, she was just fine sitting with her back to the tree. And no she didn’t want to feed the birds, this is an outing for you, she’s just the chaperone.

Her cold, black heart did not stutter when the light caught your skin just right and illuminated the nearly-healed scrapes and bruises from your incident last week. Wednesday had always loved the colours of a bruise. The angry red reminiscent of a wound, or the healing yellow-green that was nearly the same as the colour of a waterlogged corpse. Although they didn’t look quite as stunning on you. For one odd reason or another, seeing the bruises and cuts on your skin, or the apparent stiffness of your joints brought no joy to her.

There is no way in heaven or hell that she would admit she watched you the way her father watched her mother. Watching your every move, from the rise and fall of your chest to the twitch in each individual feather. The way the veins on your forearms stood out when you lifted a bird up or the eyelash that now resided on your cheek that she so desperately wished to wipe off for you. Or that your small, airy little laugh made her feel like an arrow had impaled her heart and mind and soul, painfully tethering her to the tree she was leaning against.

No, she was not her father.

And no, she did not like you.

——

You looked like a little kid sitting in the chair on the other side of Larissa’s desk. With a bowed head and hands folded tightly in your lap, you reminded her of the young children in normal schools who got sent to the principle’s office for something they hadn’t done. Except you very well had done what you were accused of; maybe that was why you looked so guilty.

“Miss Thornhill told me you’ve been struggling in class,” Larissa started off. “You’re struggling to focus.”

“I’m just not any good at it,” you said with a shrug. You still weren’t looking up.

“She also told me you had been given detention last Saturday,” she continued; you sunk further into the chair. “And you were nowhere to be found when she went to check on you.”

“Wow, that’s wild,” you said with a huff. “She probably needs to check that her perscriptions are up to date,” you said, tapping your finger to the corner of your eye, “might need a better one.”

“Did you skip your detention?” Larissa asked, far softer than she would be with any other student.

“I didn’t “skip” detention,” you started. “I was there until around 3, I think that was punishment enough.”

“What came along that was more important than your detention?” Larissa continued to pry.

“A date,” you said so quietly that she almost couldn’t hear you.

“A date? With whom?” She asked with a small smile and in the gentlest voice she could offer you.

To most, it would be an inappropriate question. No one wanted their principle to know all the juicy details of their personal lives. But Larissa knew you both had a… slightly different relationship. She knew you struggled, you had been a student at Nevermore for nearly eight years; she knew what damage your personal life had inflicted upon you. For eight years she had been able to provide some sort of comfort, a surrogate parent of sorts, and she was doing her best to give you that space to be a normal teenager with a normal parent.

You had talked with her about these things before, it wasn’t like she was implying something out of nowhere. Larissa had been your shoulder to cry on through all of your family woes, your frustrations, your first heartbreak. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise for her to ask, even though you had initially been sent to see her because you had evaded your justly-deserved detention.

But instead of your usual excitement, Larissa noticed a glaze cover your eyes and your arms wrap tightly around yourself. She had seen you like this multiple times; you still refused to see a therapist about it. And as much as she wanted to go to you and comfort you, previous experience had told her you needed to feel it all before coming back to the present.

“Y/N?” She asked quietly, leaning over her desk to get closer to you without invading your space.

You blinked once, slowly, a single tear falling onto your quivering bottom lip. Your tongue darted out to lick your lip before your eyes opened. The haze took its time in fading from your usually sparkly eyes, but you looked up at Larissa as it diminished. One shuddering breath in, a shaky breath out, and your body fell into a relaxed state once again.

“Wednesday Addams,” you choked out around the sobs that you were shoving back down your throat. Your eyes flickered away from her at the admission.

“What did you both go do?” Larissa asked with a smile that you definitely saw this time.

There was a hesitancy on your face; your lips were parted slightly as if you were about to speak, and your eyes shone brightly, but the slight tilt of your head gave you away. You weren’t one to outwardly share your emotions, but your body langauge always gave you away. It brought a joy to Larissa that she had never understood was possible before you had come around.

“Well, she bought some birdseed-,” you started, immediately going off about the entire date.

Larissa leaned forward, completely enthralled with your tale. The way your hands gestured this way and that, the movements eloquent in their own right. Pianist’s fingers, she recalled. The inflection in your voice a mirror of your younger self, back when you had less worries. You’re excited, she thought with a soft sigh. You haven’t been excited in years.

“-and then Miss Thornhill saw me and sent me straight here,” you finished with a huff, clearly out of breath.

“Will you go on another one?” Larissa asked after you had caught your breath slightly.

“Well, I think it’s my turn to ask next,” you shrugged; there was a sparkle in your eye. “So yes.”

“Then you’d better go prepare.” Larissa sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “She set the bar pretty high, don’t you think?”

“Might find an autopsy she can watch,” you mused aloud as you pushed yourself off the chair. The stiffness of your injury had yet to ease, Larissa noticed as you essentially limped over to the doorway.

“Oh, Y/N,” she called out once you were halfway out the door.

“Yes ma’am?” You asked, leaning back into the office.

“You can make up your failed detention on Saturday,” she said with a smile that only got bigger as you groaned.

“This place is a fucking prison,” you grumbled as you walked away.

Larissa sat back in her chair and looked over toward the fireplace. Maybe, she thought, Addams won’t be so bad afterall.

[microwavablekittens]

Take my worries away… Sevika x Reader

Sevika comforts an anxiety riddled reader who can’t sleep.

Content Tags: Smut, slight angst, comfort, fingering, praise kink, gender-neutral reader, reader has vagina.

word count: 2.6k

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63895558

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First Arcane fic I’ve written, finished it at 2 am and I write on and off so may be a bit rusty lol. I don’t see enough fics with Sevika being softer or gentle with Reader so I felt inclined to do one. Can read below and I’ll link my A03 if you want to find it on there as well. Enjoy!

—————————————————————————

Y/n tossed and turned, unable to sleep once again. It wasn’t uncommon, but it was happening much more frequently to them. Y/n’s anxiety kept them wide awake, heart beating fast as a racehorse as they lay in bed. Sevika slept peacefully next to them, unaware of her partner’s turmoil. Y/n let out a huff before slowly sitting up and swinging their legs over the side of the bed.

Y/n looked back for a moment at their partner’s sleeping form, a smile twitching at the corners of their lips. Sighing quietly they stood and made their way to the kitchen, making sure to keep quiet.

There was no need though, as Sevika could sleep through an explosion and wake up having no clue anything happened. Y/n was sometimes envious of her lover's ability.

Filling a glass with water, Y/n rubbed at their eyes and yawned. As tired as they were, the constant onslaught of worry kept them awake. Making their way to the couch they wondered if they should wake Sevika, but ultimately decided not to.

They didn’t want to disturb her sleep, she hardly got enough as is. It would be another long night it seemed, not knowing when sleep would finally take over for Y/n.

Sitting on the small couch Y/n leaned against the arm, a hand resting on their forehead. Rubbing their temples to try and ease the tension, to no avail.

Nothing was working really. It was just going to be one of those nights, Y/n would have to wait it out. Until then, finding a measly form of distraction to pass the time.

Y/n glanced around to find their sketchbook, finding it sitting on the edge of the desk. Walking over to the desk Y/n picked up the book, feeling the worn leather beneath their fingers. Flipping it open to a previous sketch that was unfinished, Y/n grabbed a pencil and made their way back onto the couch and made themselves comfy.

Time passed as they sketched, unaware of the fact that Sevika had awoken. The other woman had been standing just a few feet behind them on the couch, quietly observing. Upon realizing what was occurring, Sevika’s face fell slightly and she quietly made her way over to them. Reaching the edge of the couch, Y/n jumped as her figure came into view form her peripheral. Leather notebook tossed into the air by their knees, pencil flinging onto the ground with a clatter.

“Sevika! My god, you scared me” Y/n clutched their chest, taking in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry baby, I just woke up and noticed you weren’t there. I came to check on you, are you alright?” Sevika leaned down to pick up the fallen items, placing them back on the coffee table in front of Y/n.

Y/n relaxed slightly and leaned back against the couch, laughing bittery, “No, not really. I didn’t wanna bother you about it” their voice was small.

Sevika frowned as she looked at her partner, she wanted more than anything for them to tell her when they were upset like this. Sevika didn’t care if she lost sleep for it, she’d do anything to make sure Y/n was okay. She sat down next to Y/n on the small couch, looking over them intently.

“Hey, how many times have I told you I don’t mind? You can bother me all you want, I promise” Sevika placed her hand over Y/n’s, squeezing firmly in reassurance.

Y/n swallowed thickly and glanced down at their hands before looking forward, “I know you did, but…I just hate not being able to deal with anything by myself, nothing I do works. I don’t want to depend on everyone for everything” Their voice cracked as they spoke.

Sevika’s heart ached at the sound, “hey, there is nothing wrong with having help. Okay? You don’t have to do everything alone, I’m here. You help me right? It’s the same thing, let me help you baby”.

Y/n looked at Sevika as she spoke, feeling their eyes begin to water. Vision blurring, their lips quivered and they looked away quickly. Wiping at their face as tears spilled down, sniffling quietly. Y/n leaned forward on their knees, covering their face with their hands. It was a bit humiliating for them to be seen like this, no matter who it was.

Sevika quickly moved closer and rubbed her hand up and down their back, “Y/n, what’s wrong? It’s okay, you can tell me anything”.

Taking in a shaky breath Y/n sniffled, “I don’t even know, I don’t know. I just, feel terrible”.

Sevika hummed in understanding, feeling helpless. Y/n’s anxiety was difficult at times, mostly when it had no particular reason. There was nothing to solve or fix, just a state of intense worry. Y/n would wrack their brain trying to pinpoint why exactly they felt that way, but to no avail. Without having a reason, it made any solution feel impossible.

Y/n turned and buried their face into Sevika’s chest, the contact helping ease some of the anxiety. Y/n inhaled her scent, taking in leather and cinnamon. It was a comforting scent, knowing that it belonged to Sevika. Bringing their hands up they gripped the front of Sevika’s tank top, holding onto it tightly. As Y/n stayed that way for a moment gathering themselves, they found themselves beginning to feel something else.

Shifting slightly on the couch, feeling a familiar sensation growing in their lower abdomen. Y/n slightly squeezed their thighs together, feeling themselves flush as the pressure stimulated their clit.

There was a new distraction, and it seemed to be working for Y/n. Panting softly, they buried their face into the side of Sevika’s neck.

Just the presence of Sevika was enough to shift Y/n’s focus away from their unease. Arousal and the thought of having Sevika inside them took over their mind, far more pleasing than previous thoughts.

Sevika took note of their behavior, pulling back slightly to look down at Y/n’s face. Y/n looked less distressed, slight blush spread across their face.

“Are you okay?” Sevika asked as she rubbed her thumb tenderly on the side of Y/n’s cheek.

Y/n nodded, “I need you, please?” They whispered.

Sevika felt herself grow hot, not expecting the sudden ask. Y/n looked up at her expectantly, needily holding onto her still.

“A-are you sure?” Sevika asked cautiously.

“Yes, I need you right now. I need this, I need to stop thinking” Y/n’s desperation grew and they could feel their heart racing.

Sevika kissed their forehead before looking into their eyes, “Okay, if that’s what you need baby. I’ll take care of you” her voice was warm.

Standing, Sevika held Y/n’s hand and guided them to their bedroom. Y/n followed behind, excitement growing at what was about to take place.

Sevika sat down on the edge of the bed before moving herself to sit back against the headboard. Patting her lap she had her legs parted to allow Y/n to sit in between them.

“C’mere” Her voice was low as she motioned for Y/n to join her in the bed.

Y/n gulped before crawling on the bed towards Sevika, settling in between Sevika’s thighs with their back against her chest.

Sevika brought her hand to Y/n’s side, and slid her hand under the soft fabric of her pajama shirt. Feeling the soft flesh of their stomach, before trailing up in between their breasts.

Y/n shuddered at the sensation, bringing a hand to rest on the side of Sevika’s neck. Sevika’s hand wandered over every inch of her body, the warmth of her hand brushing away any negative feelings.

Her hand stopped on their inner thigh, giving it a squeeze before sliding up to their hip again. Sevika was savoring every second of this, making sure that not a single inch of their body was left neglected.

However Y/n was growing impatient, “Sevika, please. Just touch me already” shifting their hips in frustration.

Sevika nipped their earlobe gently before tracing her hand along their lower abdomen, just above the waist band of their pants. As much as Sevika wanted to take her time she knew that wasn’t what Y/n needed right now.

“Don’t worry, I got you” Sevika’s breath was hot against their ear, causing them to shudder.

Sevika slipped her warm hand under the waistband of Y/n’s pajama pants and underwear, brushing against the curly hairs that adorned the top of their pussy. Y/n moaned softly as her lovers thick fingers slipped in between her lips, feeling the wet heat of her arousal.

“Just focus on what I’m doing, feel me” Sevika pressed her lips against Y/n’s neck leaving tender kisses as she teased her entrance, fingers rubbing up and down her front. Feeling Y/n grind her hips against her fingers impatiently, Sevika grinned and chuckled softly.

“Sevika, please” Y/n huffed out.

Obliging, Sevika slipped in a finger with ease, “You feel that? Is that better, baby?” Y/n gasped and fell back against her body. A hand snaked up and into Sevika’s hair grasping it firmly, the other gripping her muscular thigh.

Nodding furiously, Y/n removed her hand from Sevika’s dark strands and wrapped her fingers around her large wrist. Sevika’s finger continued to thrust in and out at a slow pace, starting off gently.

She wanted more than anything to get Y/n’s mind off things and to focus on something else. Sevika hated to see her girl so miserable.

“Does my girl want more? Here you go, sweet thing” Sevika purred as she slipped a second digit into Y/n, producing a loud squelching sound.

Y/n gasped and tossed their head back into the crook of Sevika’s neck, soft whines leaving their mouth as fingers slid in and out. The thick digits curving to hit just the right spot, the pleasure overpowering any worries that plagued their mind. Anxieties subsided, Sevika was all they could feel.

Sevika smiled softly, feeling a sense of pride at seeing how undone she could get her lover with just her fingers. No one else could make them feel as good as she could.

“You feel me inside you? Does it feel good baby?”

Y/n turned their head to the side to catch Sevika’s mouth in a hungry kiss. Moaning pathetically into her mouth as a hot tongue rolled over their lips, Sevika gently catching their bottom lip between her teeth.

“You taste so good, you know that?” Sevika murmured against their plump lips, pulling back slightly to see their flushed face.

“My sweet girl,” Sevika smiled adoringly at Y/n, pressing a chaste kiss against their forehead.

Removing her fingers from Y/n, Sevika slid them up cupping a breast in her hand. Y/n elicited a whine at the loss of being filled, but it was swiftly replaced by a groan as calloused fingers rolled a sensitive nipple.

“My girl is so gorgeous,” Sevika teased the bud, leaving it puffy and hard.

“Ah, they’re sensitive!” Y/n hissed as their nipple was pinched in between Sevika’s large fingers. Their hole clenched around nothing, a trickle of arousal leaking down.

Sevika chuckled before leaning down and bringing their breast close and closing her mouth around a bud. Y/n’s back arched as Sevika sucked on the nipple, breath hitching as hot pleasure shot through them. Y/n brought a shaky hand down to her pussy, covering their fingers in their own slick before circling over their clit. Jolts of electricity shot up their abdomen as their fingers rubbed over their swollen clit, in combination with Sevika sucking their nipple it was enough to bring them close to the edge.

Sevika picked up on the change in Y/n and released the nipple from her mouth, snaking her hand down to her pussy.

”Let me baby, I got you remember,” Sevika reassured softly before slowly slipping 2 fingers back inside of Y/n.

Sevika started at a faster pace than before, causing Y/n to immediately lose their breath at the sudden intensity. Y/n felt light headed, unable to think or say anything. The sensation was overwhelming, and they wanted more. Needed more.

“M-more, faster, Sevika-fuck” Y/n thrashed their head around, unable to get the words out properly. It was difficult to process anything with Sevika’s fingers thrusting in and out so perfectly inside them.

“C’mon, come for me baby. You can do it,” Sevika’s voice was filled with desire, adding a third finger and increasing her pace. Angling her fingers she pistoned them right into their g-spot, relentless with her thrusts.

Y/n felt their body tense up, fire pooling in their abdomen as their orgasm rapidly approached. Y/n rubbed their clit faster and harder in time with the thrusts of Sevika’s fingers. Shockwaves rippled through their body as their climax washed over them, it was intense as they shouted in ecstasy.

“Oh, oh god. Fuck-“ Y/n’s words were cut off by a high pitched moan.

Sevika’s fingers continued to move in and out, not letting up and riding out their orgasm. Y/n let out a guttural moan, tears brimming the corners of their eyes. Arousal soaked Sevika’s fingers, lewd wet noises filling the room.

“Shh, that’s it. That’s it baby, just like that” Praises spoken into their ear as they came down from their orgasm. Y/n was utterly spent, feeling nothing but absolute bliss.

Sevika slowed her fingers before removing them from Y/n, bringing them to her mouth and licking them clean. Letting out a pleased hum as she tasted the saltiness of her lover’s arousal on her tongue.

Y/n’s body felt like jelly, head fuzzy from the aftermath of their orgasm. Sevika’s warm body behind them was grounding, her arm wrapped around the front of them.

Y/n closed their eyes, feeling warm kisses being placed against their damp forehead. Not a sliver of anxiety was present in their mind, finally feeling at ease.

“Feel better?” Came Sevika’s deep voice, pulling them out of their trance.

“Yeah” Y/n’s voice was barely audible.

Sevika grinned and leaned down pressing a kiss against the top of Y/n’s head, “Sleep baby, I’ll get you cleaned up”.

Y/n nodded lazily, unable to muster the energy to open their eyes or speak. Sevika gently shifted off the bed and placed Y/n back against the pillows, resting their head carefully.

Sevika stayed there for a moment, soaking in the moment and admiring their partner. The peaceful expression on their face as they slept brought happiness to Sevika, knowing she was able to help with their troubles.

Caressing a hand over their face, Sevika brushed a strand of hair out of their face. Backing away hesitantly, she turned to go and start with the task of cleaning Y/n up from their evening. The sooner she got done, the sooner she could hold Y/n close and fall asleep.

Sevika wiped down Y/n with the washcloth gently, trying her hardest not to disturb them from sleep. To her relief, Y/n was out like a light and didn’t stir.

Sevika huffed amusedly before hanging the rag to dry in the bathroom, making her way back to the bed and getting under the covers. Shifting close to Y/n Sevika wrapped her arm around them, tucking them close against her body.

Feeling accomplished, Sevika rubbed her nose into the top of her lovers head. Smelling the comforting scent of their shampoo, green apples filling her senses.

Sevika hummed contently as she felt herself growing tired, both finally at peace. Drifting off to sleep Sevika held her lover close, vowing to take all their worries away from them forever and always.

[notablenotions]

Masks of Nobility-Chapter 7

Jikta sketched in her notebook, capturing things she had seen throughout the day as though her memory might fail her. She had lost all track of time when the doors to her chambers swung open. She didn’t notice, nor did she notice her husband striding in with purpose—or the disdain he directed at her ladies. She wasn’t sure what he said to them, or how, but they scattered with such speed she hadn’t thought the old crones capable of.

Hans stood there, running his fingers through his hair, eyes flickering between her, the floor,n and his less flamboyant hose—as if hoping they might help him find the right words.

"I spoke to Henry..." he finally said.

Jikta looked up from her sketch."You spoke to just Henry?"

Hans blinked, clearly not expecting that response. She smirked. She might not be great with people, but she did enjoy a well-placed jab.

"A joke among friends," she clarified, amused.

Hans’s eye twitched—was that jealousy? He cleared his throat, visibly thrown off, waving his hands in the air with typical dramatic flair. She’d grown used to his theatrics, even if she didn’t understand them.

He flung himself into the chair that had become his during his visits. She was grateful he respected the routine—it kept things predictable.

Resting his head against his hand, he muttered, "I will speak with Uncle... I mean, we should at least be able to control our own home."

His voice held a note of shame.

"And... about the pox comment from before—"

She interrupted. "Whatever you did—or do—is not my concern. I only ask you avoid those with pox or other ailments. For your own health. And if we must produce an heir."

Hans lowered his head, seemingly grateful for the interruption. She continued, matter-of-fact:

"Besides, who are they to judge, when they’ve been bedded by Hanush of all people? I’m surprised they can move so quickly after having a man of his size on top of them."

Hans snorted, bursting into a loud, gutteral laugh, tears streaming down his face.

"Christ, wife, you sound like a bawdy tavern wench! Heavens... thank you."

He smiled at her with ease, and for the first time, it seemed like something close to friendship was taking root.

"I’ve hired you a maid," he said, still chuckling. "If Uncle refuses to grant my request, I’ll pay for her out of my own purse. At least then, you’ll have someone who truly supports you."

She looked back at her sketchbook, genuinely grateful for the thought.

"Thank you for such thoughtfulness. When time allows, perhaps you could explain the situation with Lord Hanush to me, so I can navigate it efficiently."

Hans looked surprised but nodded. He launched into an explanation about Hanush’s reluctance to grant him full control of his inheritance. She listened closely, filtering for information of value and discarding his embellishments and perceived slights.

"Understandable… for a fourth son," she muttered.

Hans leaned back with a crooked smile.

"As you can see, you are now an unwilling convict in my jail."

Jikta looked around her plush room.

"I’ve seen worse jails."

Hans chuckled at her quip. Was that a flicker of endearment?

"Your family leaves tomorrow, don’t they?"

She froze, throat tight, and gave a small nod.

"Then there’s nothing for it," he said, rising with a dramatic flourish. "I, Sir Hans Capon, and my faithful guard Just Henry, will be your family now."

He looked her in the eye with the kind of charm she imagined had caused untold trouble. ‘Just Henry’ certainly had her sympathies.

She stood awkwardly, joining the show. They looked like children playing at knights.

"Sir Hans," she said dryly, "do not try and force yourself into a joke between friends. You’re unaware of the legend of ‘Just Henry.’"

Hans placed a hand over his heart, feigning shock and outrage. She suspected he was only slightly put out by it.

She sat back down, returning to her book.

"But nonetheless, I thank you, Sir Hans. Please extend my thanks to ‘Just Henry.’ I believe you’ll see him before I do."

Hans looked ready to ask a dangerous question, but Jikta quickly cut him off.

"Here. A gift."

She ripped a page from her sketchbook—a drawing from earlier in the day. It was Just Henry, tongue out, threading a needle. The likeness was amusingly realistic.

"To cement our family bond," she said.

Hans stared at it—and roared with laughter, clutching his stomach, tears returning.

"My God, wife, this might be the greatest gift I’ve ever received! I must buy you more supplies—Christ, I may enjoy this family life with you and ‘Just Henry.’"He glanced at the darkening sky.

"Ah, I’ve been here longer than planned."

Carefully, delicately, he folded the drawing and tucked it into his undershirt like it was something sacred. "I’ll take my leave on that note," he said, bowing formally.

"Please don’t show him. He’d be mortified. And I rather enjoyed teaching him." Hans glanced over his shoulder with a grin. "Heavens, no, wife. This is just for me."He practically skipped out of the room.

Well, at least any reports Hanush received would say Hans left her chambers content—if not with the proper context for that contentment.

Which, of course, was really Just Henry.

Jikta sat back, contemplating the day, then returned to her drawings.

[fiftyfiftyfinchy]

Pub Quiz Imagine (ArthurTV)

The pub was buzzing with chatter, the kind of hum that made everything feel alive and a little chaotic. Cameras were perched on tripods around the cozy room, capturing every angle of the action. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed the ceiling, giving the space a warm, golden glow. A large chalkboard behind the bar displayed the words “Pub Quiz Extravaganza,” with doodles of question marks and pint glasses sketched around the edges.

Simon stood in front of the quiz table, wearing his signature cheeky grin and holding a stack of question cards. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the ultimate test of general knowledge. The stakes? Bragging rights and maybe some dignity.” He paused for effect, earning a chuckle from the group.

You stood behind one of the cameras, adjusting the focus as Ethan loudly proclaimed, “Mate, you’re looking at the winner right here.”

“Winner of most overconfident,” Harry quipped, earning a round of laughter.

Arthur sat across from Ethan, leaning back in his chair. You caught him glancing in your direction, quickly looking away when your eyes met. His ears turned a faint shade of pink, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you adjusted the angle again.

“First question,” Simon announced, holding up a card. “What is the capital of Canada?”

“Easy! Toronto,” Ethan declared confidently.

“Wrong,” ChrisMD said immediately, shaking his head. “It’s Ottawa.”

“Correct!” Simon confirmed, tossing Chris a small plastic trophy. “One point to Chris. Ethan, it’s a miracle you know your own name.”

George laughed, throwing a balled-up napkin at Simon. The room erupted in playful chaos for a moment before Simon regained control.

As the quiz went on, you moved between cameras, checking angles and adjusting sound levels. You’d spent the night before scrolling through Arthur’s Instagram, nervously trying to get a sense of what he was like. His smile in those pictures had been disarming, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves at the thought of working with for the second time. Now, seeing him answer science questions like it was second nature, you found yourself even more intrigued. It quickly became clear that Arthur had a knack for the science-related questions, answering them with an ease that left the others groaning in defeat. His quiet confidence shone brightest when Simon pulled out anything involving chemistry or physics, earning him grudging admiration and playful jeers alike. Every now and then, you caught Arthur’s eyes drifting toward you. Once, when he thought you weren’t looking, you saw him lean over to whisper something to Bach, who immediately grinned and gave him a not-so-subtle nudge.

Simon’s voice cut through the noise again. “Next question: What year did the Titanic sink?”

“1912,” Ethan blurted out before anyone else could answer.

“Correct! Point to Ethan.”

“See? I told you lot I’m a genius,” Ethan said, throwing his hands up triumphantly.

“A genius who thought Canada’s capital was Toronto five minutes ago,” Becky teased, earning another round of laughs.

By the final round, the scores were close, and the energy in the room was electric. Simon set down the final question card with a flourish. “Last question: What is the chemical symbol for gold?”

“Au!” Arthur shouted, almost jumping out of his seat.

Simon nodded dramatically. “And we have a winner! Arthur takes the crown.”

Arthur looked genuinely surprised, his mouth dropping open before breaking into a shy smile. “Wait, really? I actually won?”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Harry said, pretending to sulk. “Next time, you’re going down.”

The group dissolved into cheers and groans, the sound of their camaraderie filling the room. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride watching it all unfold, knowing you’d captured every hilarious moment. As you began packing up your equipment, you noticed Arthur standing awkwardly to the side, his gaze darting between you and his phone. He took a deep breath, clearly summoning some courage, before walking over to where you were organizing cables.

"Hey it’s nice to see you again," he said quickly, as if rushing to get the words out. "I just wanted to say, you’ve done an amazing job with all this. Everything’s so... organized. It’s impressive."

You smiled at his awkwardness. "Thanks, Arthur. That really means a lot."

He fidgeted, his cheeks turning pink. "Right. Well, um, if you’re not busy, maybe we could grab a drink sometime? Not like a work thing, just... you know, a drink," he mumbled, clearly nervous.

"A drink sounds good. But I warn you, I’m probably better at camerawork than small talk," you teased.

Arthur’s eyes widened. "Oh, well, that’s actually a relief because I’m much better at trivia than I am at flirting," he said with a nervous laugh.

You chuckled. "Sounds like we’d make a good team."

Arthur’s smile grew more confident. "So, um, could I get your number? So I can text you and arrange a time to get that drink," he asked, clearly eager but still a bit unsure.

"Sure," you replied with a smile. “I’d really like that."

Arthur’s fingers moved a little faster as he added your number to his phone. "Okay, well it was great chatting with but unfortunately I have to leave," he said, seeming slightly apologetic. "I’ll text you soon."

You smiled back. "I’m looking forward to it."

As Arthur walked away, you noticed the spring in his step, a quiet confidence replacing his earlier awkwardness. The pub was nearly empty now, and you lingered, wondering when he might text you to set up that drink.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

hiii i love your writing and i have a request for Marcello Hernandez 🫶🏼 in which reader hosts snl and marcello has a crush on her, always flirting and then they finally hook up

thanks ♥️

your wish is my command 🫡🫶🏼

Live From New York

pairing: marcello hernandez x F! actress

Marcello Hernández wasn’t sure when his crush on Y/N started, but it had been simmering since she’d first walked onto the Saturday Night Live set. She was a star in her own right a versatile actress known for her mix of charm, wit, and undeniable beauty. Y/N had skyrocketed to fame in recent years, and when it was announced she would be hosting SNL, Marcello felt a jolt of excitement he couldn’t quite explain.

They had met briefly at an afterparty a few months ago, where her disarming laugh and genuine warmth caught him off guard. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was magnetic. And now, she was here, standing in Studio 8H during rehearsals, chatting with the cast and crew like she’d been part of the family forever.

Marcello’s reputation as the show’s resident flirt wasn’t exactly a secret, but there was something different about Y/N. His jokes and teasing weren’t just about making her laugh they were his way of hiding just how much he liked her.

From the moment Y/N walked into the writers’ room, she commanded attention. Wearing a casual yet chic outfit high-waisted jeans and a cropped sweater she immediately bonded with the cast. Marcello, seated across the room, couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Marcello, you’re staring,” Bowen whispered, smirking.

Marcello rolled his eyes, trying to act casual. “I’m not staring. I’m observing. There’s a difference.”

“Right,” Bowen teased. “And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s, you know, drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Shut up,” Marcello muttered, though he couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto his face.

When Y/N caught Marcello’s eye during a table read, she smiled a soft, knowing smile that made his heart skip a beat. She was funny, effortlessly so, and her comedic timing during sketches was impeccable.

During breaks, Marcello found excuses to linger near her.

“You’re pretty good at this whole hosting thing,” he said one afternoon, leaning against a table as she reviewed lines.

She looked up, her lips curling into a playful grin. “Pretty good? That’s the best compliment you’ve got?”

Marcello chuckled. “I’m saving the big compliments for when you actually make me laugh.”

“Oh, please,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “You laugh at everything.”

“Not true. I have standards.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m supposed to believe I don’t meet them?” she asked, her tone light but challenging.

Marcello felt his face flush, but he quickly recovered. “You’re getting close.”

By the time Saturday rolled around, Marcello was a bundle of nerves. Y/N had nailed every rehearsal, and the chemistry between them in their sketches was undeniable. One skit, in particular, had fans buzzing even before the live show aired a rom-com parody where Y/N and Marcello played a bickering couple who shared a passionate kiss at the end.

When it came time to perform the skit live, Marcello felt his palms sweat as they delivered their lines.

“Why do you always have to be so annoying?” Y/N’s character snapped, crossing her arms.

“Annoying? I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” Marcello shot back, stepping closer.

Their faces were inches apart, and for a moment, the lines blurred between acting and reality. When they finally kissed, the audience erupted in cheers, but Marcello could barely hear them. All he could focus on was the way her lips felt against his, soft and warm, even for just a few seconds.

The afterparty was held at a chic Manhattan bar, filled with cast members, crew, and a smattering of celebrity guests. Marcello couldn’t keep his eyes off Y/N as she worked the room, laughing and chatting with ease.

When she finally made her way over to him, drink in hand, she raised an eyebrow. “You were really committed to that kiss tonight.”

Marcello smirked, leaning casually against the bar. “What can I say? I’m a method actor.”

“Is that so?” she teased, taking a sip of her drink.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping. “If you want, we could run lines again sometime. You know, for practice.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “You’re terrible.”

“Terribly charming, you mean.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Hernández.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his confidence growing.

Hooking Up

As the night wore on, the crowd thinned, and the energy shifted. Marcello found himself alone with Y/N on the balcony, the cool air brushing against their skin.

“I had fun tonight,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his.

“Yeah?” he asked, stepping closer. “Was it the sketches or the kiss?”

She smirked, tilting her head. “You tell me.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His hand cupped her cheek as he kissed her, this time without any cameras or scripts. Her hands gripped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

“Marcello,” she murmured against his lips, her voice breathless.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers.

“Don’t you dare,” she replied, her eyes blazing.

They stumbled back into her dressing room, their hands frantically exploring each other. Marcello took his time, his lips trailing down her neck, his hands slipping under her blouse to feel the warmth of her skin.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he muttered, his voice low and rough.

“Good,” she replied, pulling him closer. “Because you drive me crazy too.”

Their clothes hit the floor piece by piece, and Marcello’s kisses became slower, more deliberate. He worshiped every inch of her, making up for all the moments he’d spent holding back his feelings.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the blinds as Y/N stirred awake, her head resting on Marcello’s chest. He was already awake, his fingers brushing through her hair.

“Morning,” he said softly, his voice warm.

She smiled, her heart swelling. “Morning.”

“So,” he said, a teasing glint in his eye. “Does this mean I’m officially your favorite cast member?”

She laughed, swatting his chest. “Don’t push your luck, Hernández.”

But as she leaned up to kiss him, it was clear neither of them needed to say it they were exactly where they were meant to be.

[amberdiaries]

“The Art of Awkward”

Synopsis: Lizzy and Billie share silent glances in art class, until a chance encounter at the café forces them to speak. What follows is a slow, unexpected connection neither of them anticipated.

CW: no content warning

WC: 1.9k

~

Lizzy sat at the back of the art studio, pencil in hand but her focus elsewhere. Her eyes drifted to the girl across the room—Billie. She was tucked into her oversized hoodie, the fabric swallowing her frame, dark green streaks of hair falling into her face as she sketched furiously in her notebook. Billie never seemed to look at anyone directly, but Lizzy had caught glimpses of her eyes before, like brief flashes of something deep, something untold. It was odd how they both fell into this silent orbit around each other, exchanging glances from a distance but never quite touching.

Lizzy’s gaze would shift back to her canvas, the edges of her watercolor blobs blending into each other as her mind wandered back to the way Billie’s lips would twitch slightly when she was lost in thought, or the way her fingers gripped the charcoal like it was the only thing grounding her in that moment.

The professor’s voice was a low hum in the background. Lizzy couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly listened. It was always the same routine—draw, glance, avoid, repeat. And yet, something about Billie’s presence kept her tethered in the room, as if all the invisible lines in the air between them made the space feel more alive.

The class ended, and Lizzy collected her things slowly, not because she was in any rush but because she didn’t want to be the first to leave. Billie was still hunched over her notebook, scribbling something down, and as Lizzy turned toward the door, she felt an odd twinge of regret.

“See you tomorrow,” Lizzy murmured to no one in particular, her voice soft as she made her way out, footsteps echoing on the cold tile.

Later that day, Lizzy found herself wandering into the college café, her stomach twisting from hunger and exhaustion. She was halfway through her latte when she felt the unmistakable shift in the air—a collision, a jolt that startled her.

“Oh!” Lizzy exclaimed, her cup nearly slipping from her hand.

Billie stood there, wide-eyed, holding her own sketchbook against her chest like a shield. She was wearing a deep navy hoodie, sleeves long enough to cover her hands, and her green-tinted hair was loose and wild, like a tangle of vines. For a second, neither of them said anything.

Lizzy’s heart thudded in her chest as she met Billie’s eyes, only for a moment before Billie glanced away. There was a slight flush on her cheeks, the faintest sign that she was equally flustered.

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking—” Lizzy started, but her voice trailed off as she tried to steady herself, now fully aware of how her hands were shaking a little.

Billie laughed quietly, a small sound, almost to herself. “It’s okay. I’m… I wasn’t looking either.” Her gaze flickered down to the floor, and she shrugged like it didn’t matter, but there was something in her posture, something that told Lizzy she wasn’t quite as indifferent as she tried to seem.

The silence that followed felt dense, like they were both standing on the edge of something neither knew how to approach. Lizzy cleared her throat, hoping to break the tension.

“So… uh, how’s the art thing going?” she asked, cringing a little at how casual it sounded.

Billie’s lips quirked into a subtle smile. “Art thing? You mean the class? It’s… it’s fine, I guess. I’m just trying to make sense of it all, y’know?” She tilted her head slightly, eyes flitting to Lizzy’s cup. “Is it good? The coffee, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Lizzy said, grateful for the shift in focus. “It’s… it’s not bad. But I’ve been here enough to know what’s drinkable.” She raised the cup in a mock toast. “Survival 101.”

Billie’s smile softened, the tension in her posture easing just a little. “Survival, huh? Yeah, I get that.” Her voice was low, a little rough around the edges, but there was a warmth to it that Lizzy hadn’t expected.

There was another awkward pause, but this time it didn’t feel quite so heavy. Lizzy’s fingers wrapped around her cup, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her chest. She glanced back at Billie, who had her own coffee in hand, her thumb absently tracing the rim of the cup.

“I’m Lizzy, by the way,” she said suddenly, feeling the need to say something that wasn’t completely awkward.

Billie raised an eyebrow. “I know,” she said, her tone almost teasing but in a way that felt more like recognition than anything else. “You sit behind me in class, right?”

Lizzy blinked, surprised. “Oh. I didn’t think you noticed me.”

Billie shrugged again, nonchalant. “I notice things. Just… not always in the way people think.”

The words felt heavier than Lizzy had expected. She wasn’t sure why, but it made her feel seen in a way that was almost too intimate for this kind of conversation.

“Well, I guess I notice you too,” Lizzy admitted, her voice a little shy.

Billie’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, and for a second, there was a stillness between them, the kind that felt too big for a simple café table. Then Billie grinned, a crooked, hesitant smile that made Lizzy’s stomach do a nervous flip.

“You do, huh?” she said softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s… good, I guess.”

They both stood there for a moment, not knowing exactly what to do with this new layer of connection. Lizzy cleared her throat again, suddenly eager to say something before this quiet moment slipped away entirely.

“So, uh, do you want to grab coffee… sometime? Outside of all the ‘bumping into each other’ chaos?”

Billie hesitated for a beat, her gaze moving from Lizzy’s face to the empty table in front of them. For a second, Lizzy thought she was going to say no, but then Billie looked back up, her expression softening, something unreadable passing through her eyes.

“I’d like that,” Billie said, her voice just shy of a whisper. “Yeah. I think I’d like that a lot.”

Lizzy felt something warm unfurl in her chest, a mixture of relief and excitement. For the first time, the silence between them didn’t feel like a barrier—it felt like the space where something new was beginning to take shape.

And as they sat down together, the weight of the world outside the café seemed a little less pressing, a little more distant, as if the two of them had carved out a small, quiet corner to just exist in.

The next few days in art class were strange. Lizzy kept catching Billie’s gaze more often than before. There was something less tentative in those brief moments—less like a fleeting glance and more like an invitation. And every time their eyes met, Lizzy couldn’t help but feel like they were starting to piece something together, slowly but surely.

One afternoon after class, Lizzy lingered by the door, watching Billie pack up her things in her usual disorganized way. Her bag was half-open, sketchbooks spilling out, a pencil case that looked like it had seen better days.

“Need help with that?” Lizzy asked before she could stop herself, gesturing to the pile of things threatening to fall out of Billie’s bag.

Billie looked up with a raised eyebrow. “What, you’re going to help me organize my disaster?” Her tone was playful, but Lizzy caught the warmth behind it.

“Hey, I’m good with chaos,” Lizzy replied with a grin. “Maybe I’ll even throw in some color theory to help with the mess.”

Billie laughed, low and unguarded. “I think that’s what my brain looks like—an abstract color theory gone wrong.”

Lizzy tilted her head, considering this for a moment. “I don’t know, I think it sounds kind of… fascinating. Chaos can be pretty… beautiful.”

Billie gave her an amused look. “Well, if that’s how you see it, then I guess we’re both artists here.”

Lizzy smiled, heart pounding a little, but this time, the silence felt more like a pause—something to catch their breath before jumping in. “Yeah,” she said, quieter now, “I guess we are.”

And just like that, something shifted again—less like an awkward step forward, and more like they were both finally starting to walk the same path.

[lxvsiick]

O U R

PART 12 | SUNGHO FIRST WIN!! (written)

A/N: guys it’s been so long since i’ve been on less than 5 hours of sleep and 2 hours of sleep is making me crash out 😵‍💫 ,, bouta pull a y/n and down 4 cups of coffee ,, might have to hibernate once i finish my classes today

୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ

Taesan trudged down the hall, swinging a bag of Subway in his hands. Out of nowhere, Sungho had begged him to bring lunch, practically promising his firstborn in exchange for a burger and fries. He sighed, wondering why he always gave in so easily. At least he’d get to sit down after this, or so he hoped.

Pushing open the door to the art room, the smell of paint and ink immediately hit his nose. The room was well-lit, with tables scattered around, various projects in different stages of completion. His eyes quickly found Sungho, who was lounging at a nearby table with someone else.

Then he saw her.

The girl who had dropped a massive book on his head at the library. His heart skipped a beat as he hesitated in the doorway, the bag of food feeling heavier in his hands.

Sungho spotted him first, grinning wide. “Oh, you’re here! Thanks, man. Just set the food down for a sec.” He nodded toward the table in front of him, where she was seated, working on a sketch.

Trying to keep his cool, Taesan awkwardly stepped forward and placed the bag of food down. He couldn’t help but glance at her, who looked up and smiled politely. He wasn’t ready for that—his stomach did an unexpected flip.

“By the way,” Sungho said, gesturing between them, “you two should meet.” He gave a lazy shrug, leaving the introductions vague. “I’ll let you ask each other’s names. I’ll be in the office eating.” A teasing grin on his lips, he grabbed his bag of food and slipped out, leaving them alone.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Taesan stood there, suddenly feeling very out of place in a room full of unfinished art and half-sketched projects. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at her, trying to muster something to say.

“Uh… h-hey,” he managed, giving her a small, nervous smile. “I guess we haven’t officially met.”

She smiled back, just as awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess not. I’m Kim Y/n.”

“Oh, uh, I’m Han Taesan or Han Dongmin. B-but you can just call me Taesan.” he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady. “But you can call me yours” is what you really wanted to say, right? SHUT UP BRAIN! Why did his name suddenly feel weird in his mouth? He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the art project in front of her, desperate for something to focus on that wasn’t her face. If he focused on her face, he wasn't so sure he would remember anything else.

The silence that followed was heavy and awkward, stretching longer than it should have. Taesan shifted on his feet, his heart pounding, when she suddenly broke the silence.

“Hey, um…” she started, gesturing to a large book sitting on the table next to her. “I wanted to apologize again for, uh, dropping that massive art book on your head the other day.” Her tone was sincere, but there was a hint of a nervous smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, that…” Taesan gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, that’s okay. No permanent damage or anything.” He was trying to joke, but it came out stiffer than he intended. He mentally kicked himself for being so awkward.

She laughed softly, the tension breaking just a little. “Well, that’s good. I was afraid I might’ve knocked you out or something. That book weighs a ton.”

“Yeah, it did feel like getting hit by a brick,” he said, finally relaxing a bit. “But, you know, I’ve survived worse.”

They shared a brief smile, the awkwardness still lingering but not as intense now. He wasn’t sure if he should keep the conversation going or let it fizzle out, but Y/n seemed a little more at ease, which helped him breathe a bit easier.

“So uh… art major?” Taesan asked, gesturing to the work she was doing.

She nodded. “Yeah. What major are you?”

“I’m a music composition major.” Taesan answers, nervously fidgeting with his rings.

“Oh, that’s cool.” The beating of his heart was making Taesan dizzy. He still couldn’t believe Sungho knew her this whole time. Park Sungho, you bastard.

“S-so are you a junior like Sungho hyung?” Taesan rambled out. Placing her pencil down, Y/n shakes her head.

“No, I’m a sophomore.” Taesan widens his eyes. She was in the same year as him? 

“O-oh we’re the same year then.” Taesan says. “Wow, you’re a sophomore and you’re on the same level as Sungho hyung.” Y/n lets out a small, embarrassed laugh.

Just as the conversation was starting to feel a little less awkward, the door to the office swung open, and Sungho reemerged, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Alright, I’m good to go. You ready?”

Taesan turned to face him, caught off guard by how fast the time had passed. “Yeah, sure,” he replied, giving Y/n a quick glance.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/n,” Sungho said as he started to head toward the door. As he passed Taesan, he gave him a teasing smirk to which Taesan squinted at.

Taesan gave her a small wave. “Yeah, see you around,” he mumbled.

“Bye,” she said, smiling at them both as they made their way out.

As they left the art room, Taesan couldn’t help but feel the strange mixture of relief and regret. He’d survived the awkward encounter, but somehow, he wished it hadn’t ended so soon. Turning to Sungho, Taesan gives him a light punch on the arm.

“You knew her this whole time, hyung?” Taesan says, his eyes squinted at the older boy. Sungho shrugs with an innocent face.

“You never asked.”

୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ

PART 11 | PART 13

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST [OPEN]: comment a 🐝 to be added

@tkooooop @ktzuki @dalliesque @cherrytaesan @crispy-kirby @onedoorland @chnhnyu @nujeskz @txjuns @prettiann @imuziawi @lynnimini @woorcve @swanyvess

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[slytherinshua]

DOODLES

genre. fluff. warnings. kissing. pairing. so mun x fem!reader. wc. 900.

“No peeking!” So Mun scolds, holding his sketchbook even tighter to his chest to make sure there was no way you would be able to glance at his sketch. You huff in defeat and go back to your own drawing which is looking more and more lopsided as you keep trying to capture Mun’s perfectly sharp jawline and fail.

“I’m butchering your handsome face, just so you know.” You mumble, grabbing your eraser for the hundredth time. At this point the drawing looked more smudged than legible and you were close to giving up.

“Good thing you have the real deal right here, then.” Mun replies smoothly, and you glare at him from over your sketchbook making him giggle. 

You wonder how he hasn’t even touched his eraser once as you watch him still making little details on his drawing with ease. You know he’s been drawing his whole life and his drawing skills are on par with his fighting skills, but you know he hasn’t had much time to draw apart from composition sketches. You were glad you suggested doing this doodling session with him. It was cosy and relaxing and definitely what you both needed to get your mind off the stress of everything. 

You’ve never had anyone draw you before, but you’re glad the first one to do it is your boyfriend. He’s only been drawing for 10 minutes, but you’re starting to get a little impatient to see the results, and so you attempt at sneaking a peek again.

“I said no peeking.” He stops you without even looking, catching your hand in midair before it can reach his sketchbook. 

“When will you be done with it?” You ask, and So Mun hums in response. “Baby.” You whine.

“I’m almost done.” He looks up to smile at you before resuming his pencilling. “Are you done yours?”

“I guess… It’s not getting any better so I decided to just leave it.”

“Can I see?” Mun peers over to take a glance and you hand him the open sketchbook. “Aww, you added a heart.” He smiles widely and you swear you can practically see his eyes sparkle.

“It’s so bad, though.” You mutter, cringing at the way you had messed up his proportions. 

“I think it’s cute.” Mun smiles again.

“I get to see yours now, right?” 

He nods and hands you the sketchbook finally, and your eyes land on the drawing. Your breath is quite literally taken away and you spend the first few minutes just staring at it, taking in every detail, every stroke of pencil. And a warm sense of comfort comes with how you just know that every mark of that pencil was created with so much love behind it. You can feel it.

“So…?” So Mun asks expectantly, blinking at you.

You open your mouth to give him a response, but then pause as the wind slightly blows the page of the sketchbook, giving you a peek of more drawings on the previous page. Curiosity takes over and you flip it, revealing an entire spread of you.

There’s a small drawing of you sipping a bubble tea, and you recognize the exact day it’s from given your outfit. You had stolen So Mun’s leather jacket on your lunch date that day, and he had even drawn in the little hair clip that you had worn.

Looking a little lower on the page were countless more drawings. One of you blowing a kiss, you with a kitten, several of you just smiling, and even one of you sleeping which you immediately suspected he had drawn while you actually had fallen asleep.

“Were you ever going to show me these?” You ask, blinking back tears because they’re all so beautiful and you adore each and every one of them.

Mun panics, “I- I wasn’t not going to show these to you?” His response sounds like he’s questioning the fact himself and you tsk quietly, flipping over to the next page only to find even more drawings.

“How many times have you drawn me without my knowledge?” You question, utterly bewildered at just how many drawings there are. With every page you flip, there are more, and soon you discover that the entire sketchbook is filled with just you. 

“If you weren’t my boyfriend this would be so creepy, you know?”

“Do you think it’s creepy?” Mun asks.

“No, it’s probably the cutest shit anyone has ever done for me.” You say in a complaining tone which makes So Mun laugh. You tackle him in a hug, kissing his cheek as many times as you can before he pulls you off of him in a fit of giggles. 

“I’m glad you like them because to be honest it’s become a stress reliever to draw you.” Mun admits, melting your heart easily.

“You’d better show me next time, or I’m going to go snooping through your stuff just to find your sketchbook.” You threaten and So Mun nods with a smile before reaching over to kiss you. 

He always kissed you softly, like you would break if he put too much pressure into it. Now was no different as his plush lips moved against yours, lifting up into a smile when you pull away. And his smile is so infectious and filled with so much love that you can’t help but to smile back.

↳ k-drama taglist: @yeonjuns-redhair,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @cha3w0n-hearts (abp & tuc only),, @tempobaekh (tuc only)

[vulturv0lans]

If it's not too much to ask, can we have a soft dom diluc gently guiding a shy sub reader through her first time? (In desperate need of tooth rotting fluff and diluc being sweet lmaoo [with lots of praise ofc])

ok you know what anon i have been looking for something like this but i haven't found too many,,,thank you for the request!

word count: 2,960 (i got carried away again oops) tags: first time, references to diluc’s father/backstory/official manga, soft dom diluc, lots of love and affection and just overall sappy, porn with plot (lots of it), me crying (also lots of it)

m.list | diluc m.list | rules | inbox

the air is salty by the lake and his door rusty, yet you’re sure you’ve never need anything more.

when diluc brought you back to the winery for the first time, this was not what he had in mind. he had simply wanted to show you more, parts of him he had long hidden beneath the layers of his clothing and layers of walls he built up. but you are his lover now. you meet the maids that have been with him since he was a child, browse through the volumes that his father left behind, breathe the same air that he has always breathed inside the estate.

he was not planning to take you right there, on the four posted bed he claims but seldom occupies, on the second floor of the winery.

diluc was hesitant at first, leading you into the one place he holds closest to his heart. the master bedroom has not seen a visitor in ages. even the maids rarely enter except when they are asked to, because within these gilded walls and draped curtains is where diluc can truly feel at ease, no “mondstadt wine tycoon” or “master of dawn winery” or even “darknight hero” attached.

and before your eyes, he feels just as bare.

you had taken a seat at the edge of his mattress, arms supporting your weight as your eyes take in the surroundings. the wallpaper is a dark crimson red, damask patterns painted in black. the thick velvet of the curtains match the crimson in colour, yet the light seeping through the fabric and reflecting off of the golden tassels that touch the floor. the furnishings are simple, the large room otherwise empty save for a mirror, a wardrobe, a fireplace, and a desk filled with books.

yet it’s the paintings on the walls that catch your eye. one of them can easily be discerned as an exterior sketch of dawn winery, its signature red roofs a stark contrast to the rows of green underneath. off on the other wall is a portrait. a tall, greying man poses in the middle with two younger boys to either side of him, one with hair as blue as the twilight skies, and the other with hair red as blazing fire.

diluc follows your gaze to the painting, and suddenly the room feels too hot. before he can open his mouth to change the topic, you have already turned to him with an inquisitive look in your eye, and his heart softens. he cannot say no to you.

“that’s your father, isn’t it?”

he nods, choosing to offer no further explanation.

“what was he like?”

your voice is gentle, yet he is still taken aback. seldom anyone wants to know what crepus was like as a person, beyond just his title and position. for a few moments diluc is silent, pondering his answer. how could he summarize the greatest man he’s ever known into a couple simple sentences?

“he was kind. and very, very brave.” he says at last, “he made me the man that i am today.”

“i’m sure he was a great father,” you say quietly, not wanting to press further. diluc must have his reasons behind not wanting to tell the full story yet, and you’ll give him time. as much time as he needs.

“he was.”

when he looks at you again, your frame so small against the posts on his bed, he feels an unnameable emotion surging through him. you’re studying the painting with such an intense focus, as if trying to hear the voice of a man you’ve never met, trying to understand what others fail to even notice.

and in that moment, diluc is sure he has never been more in love.

he closes the distance between you in two quick strides, and you look up at him in surprise. he intertwines your fingers before pulling you up to your feet, your body pressing flush against his as you find your balance.

“can i kiss you?”

you smile at his question. diluc, ever the gentleman. even several months into your relationship he still asks for permission, and still kisses you like it was the first time.

it’s your turn to close the gap between you now, lips meeting his in a soft kiss. his hands find their way down the small of your back, then up your spine before settling on your cheeks, fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you even closer, until you can feel every beat of his heart on your skin.

“i love you.” he whispers against your lips when he finally breaks the kiss for air.

“i love you, too,” you echo, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again, hands clutching his arms for support. diluc feels his skin burn wherever your hands have been, and his love and tenderness suddenly becomes something more.

deepening the kiss, he backs you up until your legs hit the edge of the bed, before your entire person falls backwards into the plush mattress. you pull him down with you, until barely any space is left between his large frame and your own, smaller one.

he smooths out the stray baby hairs on your forehead before resting his against it, eyes searching yours for any signs of discomfort. you both know where this is leading, but diluc wants to be certain, absolutely certain that you're okay with this.

"are you sure?"

you nod before you have time to think. this is a step you're willing to take, and there's no one else you'd rather share it with. even so, small bubbles of anxiety rise from your stomach. will it hurt? will you be able to enjoy this? will he be satisfied, even with your lack of experience?

if diluc could hear your thoughts right now, he would be quick in dismissing them as the most preposterous ones he's ever heard. it would pain him to know that you’d ever fear of not satisfying him, even when he would put you and your pleasures before so much as thinking about himself.

you could never disappoint him, this he knows.

his lips find yours again and your doubts dissipate like the dark clouds after a storm. wandering hands begin unbuttoning and untying every piece of fabric in your way, desperate to reduce the layers keeping you from feeling his bare skin. your clothing clatter as they fall to the ground, diluc barely separating from you to discard his shirt before lowering back down to kiss you, not wanting to part from you for a second longer than necessary.

he's hungry for more, for you.

your hands find purchase on his toned arms, his skin almost too warm under your fingertips. he mumbles something that remotely resembles "off" into your mouth, and you comply almost too quickly, lifting your arms so he could take off your shirt and your bra.

diluc forces himself to hold back when your skin is fully exposed to him. lips glistening and chest heaving, you have never looked more beautiful to him, and he makes sure you know it. dipping his head to your neck, he trails a line of hot kisses down to your breasts, words of praise between every kiss permanently etched into your skin.

"you're breathtaking."

your face heats up as he slots himself in between your legs, hand lowering to your waist. your heart beats too loudly now, focus glued to his fingers hooking into your belt loops before quickly undoing the button on your pants. fiery eyes, hooded by lust and desire, search for confirmation, and you grant it. how could you not, when you burn for him so much?

diluc can’t help but groan out when your bottom half becomes exposed. his attention is quickly taken away by the thin material of your panties, damp and clinging to the wetness pooling between your legs, and he feels the sudden urge to bury his face there.

he runs a finger down your clothed folds and you jump, legs clamping together to relieve some of the pressure. with a hand on your knee, he holds your legs open to allow himself better access to where you need him the most. gently, he moves the soaked panties to the side, and the man fully has to sit back on his heels to drink in the sight before his eyes.

you’re so pretty, so sweet, so vulnerable for him, legs spread and pussy glistening with your arousal, all for him and him only.

he curses under his breath, heart swelling at how lucky he feels to be the one admiring your naked form. ignoring the increasingly uncomfortable bulge in his pants, he dives in like a man starved, flattening his tongue against your pussy to get his first real taste of you.

your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact, diluc’s moan of satisfaction sending delicious vibrations into the deepest parts of your body. his tongue works fast magic on your cunt, licking and sucking and kissing like you’re a five course meal, the slurping sounds in perfect harmony with your soft pants of pleasure.

“fuck, you taste so good, baby.”

the satin of his bedsheet is wrinkled and twisted in your palms as you grip onto it, diluc’s hands quickly reaching up to find yours, your fingers interlacing as he eats you out, the moment so intimate that for a moment you forget the vulgarity of it all and just enjoy being so close to him, physically and emotionally.

you’re growing close, and diluc knows it. despite his pussydrunk state, he forces himself to pull away, his chin now coated with your wetness, before shifting his body up to kiss you again. you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself, obediently granting access to his tongue when it swipes across your bottom lip. the room feels ten degrees hotter and it becomes harder and harder to breathe, until your need for oxygen finally overpowers your desire for him.

diluc’s eyes are alert when you gently push on his chest, his first thought being he’s done something you did not like. gently cradling his face in your hands, you say with a blissful smile the words he’s been longing to hear for so long.

“i need you, diluc.”

his last line of defense snaps and he lets his primal instincts take over, quickly ridding himself of his pants and undergarments before settling you against the plush pillows.

“are you absolutely sure-”

“yes.” you cut him off before he can finish, and diluc‘s ever-present confidence begins to waver. he needs this to be perfect for you.

swallowing thickly, he lines himself up at your entrance. you mirror his gulp as you notice for the first time how big he is, thick and girthy against your tiny hole.

“tell me if it hurts, please,” he asks, so much genuine guilt in his voice that you can’t refuse him an answer.

you yelp in pain when he starts to push in, his body immediately tensing up. only when you repeatedly reaffirm that you’re okay does he continue, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and whispering apologies and affirmations into your skin as he slowly sinks into you, until he’s completely buried inside you.

“you’re doing so good baby, yeah? that’s it.”

he stills for a moment to let you adjust. but selfishly he wishes to revel in your tightness and warmth for a little longer, your walls so snug against his cock like they were made just for him. he already can’t get enough, and he hasn’t even started moving yet.

you’re the one to initiate the kiss this time, silently giving him permission to move. his thrusts are slow and steady, the tip of his cock dragging against every nerve ending inside you, sending electric sparks throughout your body.

“so tight for me,” he grunts as he picks up his pace, trying to control his movements as to not hurt you, even though a part of him wants to slam into you and fuck you until you’re reduce to a babbling mess begging for his cock. but one look at your face and he feels immediate guilt at his sinful thoughts. you’re so innocent beneath him, bottom lip caught between your teeth and your face scrunched up in pleasure.

he can’t ruin you yet.

soft moans tumble past your parted lips as he reaches down to rub fast circles on your clit. every last cell in your body feels like it’s on fire, the pleasure amplified tenfold from being in the presence of your lover, better than your own fingers could ever satisfy yourself.

you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in even further, and diluc’s honour is reduced to barely hanging on by a thread.

“you’re taking me so good. so good for me.” he praises and you feel yourself gush around him, his words turning you on even further. it seems your earlier doubts were unnecessary, after all. you grow bolder, reaching up to dig your nails into his back, leaving red marks that claimed him as yours.

the stinging pain from your nails scratching against his skin sends diluc into another wave of euphoria, and he can’t hold himself back much longer. with a low grunt, he pins your wrists down above your head, dark eyes studying the microscopic changes in your expression as your hands are suddenly rendered useless, held down so submissively and at his mercy.

his eyes are fixated on the round of your breasts, bouncing so deliciously to the rhythm of his thrusts. a sudden clench of your cunt almost sends him collapsing on top of you, the tight grip he had maintained on your wrists now faltering from the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him. he curses, the profanity soon turning into praise again at how good you’re taking him, how pretty you looks, and how much he loves you, his words almost doing more to build the knot in your stomach than his steady, deep thrusts.

he leans back to sit on his heels as he lets go of your wrists, moving to hold your legs above his shoulders. you cry out when his cock hits your most sensitive spot from the new position, the sheets once again wrinkled under your tight grip now that your hands are free once again.

“fuck y/n, i’m so close.”

you lift your hips to meet his thrusts half way, all the thoughts in your head replaced by your blinding desire for your release. diluc shifts his weight to hold your thighs open instead, leaning down so he can be close to you before he reaches his impending high. he wants to hold you, to hear you, to see you chase after your high.

your moans and cries are growing more frequent, each more high pitched than the last. they are music to diluc’s ears, music reserved only for him to hear, his own low grunts a perfect harmony.

“i’m so close- gonna cum- please-” you babble, tears dotting your lashes, and diluc has never seen a more beautiful sight.

the sudden warmth of his hand on your neck makes you jump. he doesn’t close his fingers around your throat (though you secretly wished he would), instead his touch is fleeting before moving to cup your face. you lean into him almost immediately, his thumb wiping the tears that escaped, down the smooth skin of your cheeks, and across your bottom lip. he’s hovering so close to you that you can see every freckle on his skin, lips mere centimetres from yours that his every exhale becomes your next inhale, so intimate that you find it hard to believe that he’s kissing you so sweetly while maintaining a relentless pace.

he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t hold back.

“cum for me,” he breathes into your parted lips, “i want to hear you.”

and you don’t need to be told twice. with a loud cry of his name you come undone around him, your slick quickly forming a ring of white at the base of his cock as he rides out your high, his pace becoming erratic and sloppy at the vice-like grip of your cunt.

“fuck,” he lets out a deep grunt as you repeatedly clench around him, the sound resonating from deep within his chest. his hands pat around the bed looking for yours, and soon after he locks your fingers together again he cums too, head buried in your shoulder and his cock shooting hot ropes into you, painting your walls white.

your legs are shaking as you come down from your high, your pussy so sensitive to any tiny movements that you almost cum again when he tries to pull out from you. the satin beneath you is soaked with a mix of both your essence, drops of white leaking from your sobbing hole when diluc finally pulls out.

he admires you in your post-orgasm glow, and not just at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and your pussy now moulded to the shape of him. it’s as if a soft silk has been draped over you, painting your features in glorious moonlight.

“you’re so beautiful.”

he breaks the silence that has enveloped you both while your breathing returned to normal.

you still find it foreign, the feeling of his compliments even as you’re spread out naked under him. as if sensing your disbelief, diluc repeats his words again, this time between wet kisses on your collarbone, etching his love for you into your body.

“so. beautiful,” he whispers into your skin, his heart swelling, “and all mine.”

note. me and who WHEN >:( also i hope you enjoy my subtle taylor swift reference at the beginning hehe m.list | diluc m.list | rules | inbox ♡

© vulturv0lans 2023, do not copy, repost, or translate without permission.

[jurijurijurious]

"With a deep breath, he ceded to Grievous and, casting aside his former station as both Count and Jedi Master, dropped to his knees before the General."

Don't mind me, just over here excavating more 20-year-old fanfic notes from my old Revenge of the Sith AU plot bunny, where Anakin spares Dooku and Grievous then saves and escapes with the Count.

And here's another new sketch. (Dedicated to @charmwasjess - I'm glad we've stumbled across one another again after so many years!)

“Master!” a voice called.

Dooku opened his eyes but then recoiled at the brightness of the light and was forced to shadow his brow with a hand as he then squinted cautiously ahead.  “Qui-Gon?” he asked.

The light softened a little as Dooku’s eyes became more accustomed to it and it was then that he could see the tall form of his former protégé stood on a ledge across a gaping gulf.  A faint smile played about Qui-Gon’s lips and a small light twinkled in his kindly eyes, a light which had never in Jinn’s life seemed to have gone out.

Dooku swallowed and peered down.  Like Qui-Gon, he was stood on a rocky outcropping, his feet having little purchase; it was little comfort that, over the edge, the ground at the foot of this canyon was invisible, swallowed up in a thick mist.

“Come on, master,” Jinn shouted, gesturing for Dooku to leap across to him.

Dooku scoffed and shook his head.  “Don’t be absurd.  The distance is too great!”

Jinn looked disappointed though not disheartened.  He gave his mentor a warm smile, which was hidden intermittently by the wild tresses of his hair, blown about his face by the wind.  He then reached a hand across the chasm.  “Have faith, master,” he said.

Dooku baulked, placing his hands flat against the rock-face behind him.  The gap across the canyon seemed to get wider every time he considered it, to the point now that Qui-Gon appeared half a mile away.  “I’m sorry,” Dooku shouted.  “I cannot do it!”

Jinn settled back against his own wall, alarmingly at ease on the precipice upon which he seemed intent on remaining.  “Of course you can.  I’ll wait for you.”

And then Dooku woke up for real and realised that he had wandered rather too deep into the recesses of his mind.  He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back before he got to his feet from his kneeling position and flexed his stiff, metallic fingers.  Grievous stood before him with a quizzical look in his golden eyes.

“Were you asleep?” the cyborg asked.

Dooku held the creature’s gaze before he shook his head.  “No, I was not.”

Grievous reached up to unclasp his cloak, which tumbled to the floor in an untidy heap.  “But you were not conscious, Count.”

“Lack of consciousness is not indicative of sleep,” Dooku rallied.

Grievous regarded him for another moment before he said, with a deliberate slowness, “I am well aware of that.  Thus you owe me an explanation.  Such behaviour is strange to me.”

Dooku nodded.  Grievous had a point, after all.  “I fell into the throes of the Force.  There is little other explanation to give.”

Grievous chuckled.  “Then you may as well have said not a word for that means nothing to me.” He paused before he asked, “Are you ready to begin?”

Dooku looked at the droid general as the cyborg loomed over him in all his cybernetic glory, a creature more machine than flesh, and the Count wondered what it felt like to be him; how much of Grievous was still left?  Was all that made a person unique their mind, not their body?  Could one be nothing but a brain in a jar and still be oneself?

With a sigh, the Count then reached to his belt and tried to clutch his lightsabre.  His hands felt clumsy, unnatural… they weren’t there to feel, and though they reacted to his nerve impulses, fingers flexing and contracting, the sheer lack of sensation meant that Dooku may as well have been trying to catch flies in the dark.

Frustration began to build up quickly in the Count’s mind.  Here was the theoretical chasm which he was unable to cross.  He tried time and again, clouting the sabre this way and that, making it swing to and fro on his belt, before he knocked it from its hook and it fell to the floor.

With uncanny precision, Grievous caught it with his foot before it hit the floor, then raised it back up to Dooku’s eye level.

Dooku stared at it, then looked into Grievous’ eyes with a mixture of bitterness and apathy.

“No one can run before they can walk,” the General stated plainly.  “Even you.”

Dooku’s gaze tightened, resentment flaring in the depths of his pupils, before he nodded sullenly and asked, “Then how should I proceed?”

Grievous thought on this for a moment before he bade the old man follow him with a wave of his hand and, passing Dooku’s sabre from his foot to his belt, then led the Count away.

The pair of them walked through the empty halls and winding passages of the great Utapaun city, which was built into the side of a deep rocky sinkhole, until they arrived at Grievous’ makeshift quarters.

A medic droid tilted its head in acknowledgment as they entered this dark, cavernous chamber and Dooku allowed his eyes to briefly traverse the selection of spare parts, hypodermic needles, and jars of blood which decorated the shelves across the walls.  It was rather stomach churning and the Count hoped, deep down, that he would never walk into his own rooms to find this; an array of spare parts to keep him going.  Grievous had made many sacrifices in order to keep his life and become something arguably greater than what he had been before.

“Impressive,” Dooku murmured, brow arching.  “Might I ask what occasion is so great as to warrant my presence here?”

Grievous ignored the Count momentarily and marched with his great, birdlike gait to one of many shelves, and began to rummage through the myriad of instruments and containers set upon it. 

Dooku’s brow knit in confusion and he took a deep breath and began to peer around the room again with morbid curiosity.  It was then that he noticed the medic droid’s apt attention on him.

“What is it, droid?” he rumbled.

A small light on the droid’s long face blinked in response, and the robot replied in its monotone, “I am pleased to see the operation was a success.”

Dooku was momentarily puzzled before he realised that here was his surgeon.  “Ah,” he said, at a loss for words.  He was in truth not altogether pleased by this revelation.  The medical droid was old and clumsy-looking.  And yet this must also be the robot which maintained Grievous‘ vast system of blood and oil, flesh and metal, and not could be no mean feat.  Perhaps, Dooku thought, he should be glad that Grievous had trusted his life to the same entity which safeguarded the general’s wellbeing.

“We shall start from the beginning,” Grievous murmured from his shelf at last, turning to face Dooku again with something small clutched between his claws.

Dooku frowned, squinting to see what Grievous had in his grip, but was unable to make it out even as the General came ever closer.

“What have you there?” the Count questioned at last.

Grievous laughed under his breath and dropped the item to the floor.  It tinkled as it hit the metal panels covering the ground, rolling a short distance before it came to a halt.  When Dooku finally managed to trace the item with his eyes, he realised it was a small bolt, one of Grievous’ tiny spare parts.

Dooku looked back toward the General, unimpressed.  “Now what?” he pressed.

Grievous lowered his head to Dooku’s level.  “Pick it up.  With your hands.”

The Count felt the beast within tense at this blatantly simple challenge.  Still sore and wounded, the creature backed up into its den, hackles raised, and defended itself vigorously from the challenge which was now prodding its flank and inviting it to rise and face it.

“Do not insult me,” Dooku hissed between his teeth.  The air about him rumbled, the dark side clouding his thoughts, stroking the beast and whispering honey-coated lies into his ears.  ‘You don’t have to stand for this‘, it said; ‘remember who you are, what you can do.  You are too great to be trifled with by this general, who is only alive because of your mercy.’

But as he glared into Grievous’ eyes and considered choking the arrogant cyborg with the power he commanded, Grievous snapped him out of his self-indulgent rage with a few simple words.  “Be a coward then, Count.  Kill me for this small challenge.  You will not long survive without me.”

The beast within cowered and Dooku realised what a fool he was becoming.  If he destroyed Grievous, he would have no one else; if he threw Qui-Gon off the gorge, there would be no one to rescue him.  He could cross this gulf - it would take time and patience, but he would make it.  He had to learn to crawl now, walk later, and at the end of the day, he would run again.

With a deep breath, he ceded to Grievous and, casting aside his former station as both Count and Jedi Master, dropped to his knees before the General.  He then reached a clumsy, ponderous hand towards the bolt and began the long, hard task of picking it up.  It wasn’t about the bolt at all, of course - it was about learning to use his new appendages, about self control, fortitude and enduring the pain.

Across the gaping gulf, Qui-Gon smiled and nodded.

[its-echo-song]

Plague AU Ch. 4

I’ve mentally prepared, this time.

Whenever he draws me to my feet and pulls his gloves off, I take a moment to still myself. Just as he did last night, he steps into my space and places a hand over my heart.

Much like before, I struggle to pull my attention away from how close we stand to one another, his arm wrapped around me slightly, landing his other hand pressed against my back near my shoulder blade.

Every small movement is registering, the slight twitch of a finger as he shifts to glance up at me- once again I’m fighting to keep my breathing tame. I am certain he notices my tension, he eases his hand off my back and steps away, creating a distance between us.

“You’re tense.” He simply comments, I nod at him, feeling the embarrassment on my face.

“Sorry.”

“No-” He draws away from me completely with a short sigh. “It’s okay- it just makes taking measurements slightly more challenging. It throws off my information.”

If I could control it, I would. “What- what should we do, then?”

“Well- I could spend some time sketching you, let you relax a little bit, then try again. It may take… it may take a few tries.”

“Okay. I have time.”

He nods toward the bed. “Sit, then, we’ll get started.”

I oblige, slightly relieved to be back to some form of normalcy. This part, being sketched by him, is such a common occurrence that I’ve managed to learn to sit well enough as to not annoy the doctor. However he maneuvers me, I’m as good as frozen in place.

It’s with vested interest, however, that I notice he doesn’t put the gloves back on. He kneels next to me, running his hands along my arm gently as he positions me- a move so decidedly cruel, a ripple of contained nervous energy skitters through my body as he does it. He hums a note, thinking, settling back into a crouch to look at me.

Then he reaches up, catching my jaw in his grip and turning my gaze to face slightly off to the left.

There’s a moment of stillness where he doesn't remove his hand, just stares- it would be less intimidating if it weren’t for that damn mask. I find myself glancing over at him from the corner of my eye, swallowing nervously.

He chuckles, pulling his hand back and sitting back in his chair again. “Wonderful.”

“Wonderful?” I mimic softly, trying to catch a glimpse of him, even though he’s slightly out of range of sight where he currently sits.

“Mhm. I like the way the firelight plays with your features at this angle-” He brings his chair closer, now well within arm's length. “If I could just- can I let your hair down?”

My mind stalls to a halt, processing the question for a moment too long. It feels like such an odd question, feels unimportant to the idea of research, feels less like science and more like intimacy.

“Sorry, maybe that’s-”

“Yes- go ahead.” I croak out, finding myself somewhat baffled at my own voice, how quiet I come across.

He hesitates for only a moment before untying the thin strip of fabric, gently placing it in my hand for me to hold. He shifts a few rogue waves of hair into place, gently pulling his fingers through it in what I estimate to be an attempt at taming it.

He settles back into his seat again and lets out a contented hum. “Perfection.”

That is worth every moment of effort- the way the word rolls off his tongue, laden with his thick french accent, plays like music.

“I thought you said there’s no such thing.” I attempt to joke, trying to cover my nerves with humor.

“I was wrong.” He says with clarity, as if he’s ready to defend his stance, like I’d ever be stupid enough to challenge him- mostly, I want to hear it again.

“You flatter me.”

He lets out a singular huff of laughter. “I cannot convince the blind of what they cannot see, no?” This is followed by the gentle sound of charcoal on paper, a sound that I’ve grown accustomed to, the sound of him sketching down delicate lines in precise motions. I can’t see the action, but I can hear the way he shifts to look closer, how he sometimes pauses and simply studies me.

Eventually, my heart stops racing, I relax slightly, letting the tension loosen out of my shoulders and taking a large breath.

“Better?” He asks me, silence speaking to the way his full attention is now on me and not focused on the page.

“Am I truly that obvious?”

“Yes. Though, in fairness to you, most people probably aren’t studying you the way I am. Take a break, stretch a little.”

I nod at him, rolling my shoulders back and reveling in the gentle relief. “Do you ever intend to show me what you’re drawing in there?” I ask casually, knowing the answer and going through the motions regardless.

“Not now- I’ll- I’d have to finish up some stuff- it’s really not anywhere near ready to be seen.”

“I’d like to, one day. I’m-”

“Curious, I know- one day.”

The answer I get every time. It’ll never be the right time, it’ll never be polished enough, he seems far too critical of it to reach a point in which I’ll get to see more than the botany sketches I’d glanced at when I first visited.

He clears his throat, shutting the book and setting it aside. “Since we’re taking a break, I’d like to try to gauge your heartbeat again.”

I stand, positioning myself how he’d had me standing earlier. He stands and slots himself into place with ease, one hand over my heart- and once again the other lands on my shoulder.

“Is- is there a reason-” I finally begin asking the question I’ve been thinking, though my voice waivers slightly as I do. “Uh- you need both hands for this?”

There’s a long silence, I know with certainty that he’s feeling my heartbeat kick up under his palm, a combination of worry from my boldness and fretting over the extra touch.

“Yes.” He finally responds, though something in his tone sounds- odd.

“What- what is it?”

“Uh- well… with- since your heart is on this side of your body,” he nods to where his hand rests on my chest, “I need to- it needs to be balanced… on the other side.”

I stare at him, calculating- “but doesn’t that- if my heart usually beats unevenly then, wouldn’t that throw it off?”

“I didn't realize you were a doctor.” Defensive.

“Sorry, you’re right.”

“Anyway it’s- it’s new science so it may not be sound… I don’t want to take risks, though, just in case.”

“Right- best not to, I suppose.” I turn my gaze over to the fire, avoiding looking at him and taking a deep breath. He’s not being entirely honest, something about the way he’s dealing with my question confirms it to me.

With that simple truth, however, I’m able to relax slightly. The doctor finally pulls away, writing numbers down in his book. “Well- seeing as your nerves have eased some, I suppose we can get you home.”

“This might surprise you, but this is my first time being an experiment, sorry that the experience involves being a little nervous.”

He takes the strip of cloth out of my hand, stepping behind me and drawing my hair back into his hands- this sends shivers down my spine as his fingertips brush against my neck. I hadn’t asked him to, but I don’t begrudge the action- it speaks to a level of consideration, a thread of kindness that runs through him.

“Would you like a braid?” He asks, ignoring my previous comment. “I know how to do a rather neat one.”

I chuckle, shrugging my shoulders. “If you would like to try, be my guest- I always thought it was too short for one.”

He sets to work, gently pulling my hair into a braid and then tying the end into a neat bow. When he’s finished he steps away, moving the braid to the side slightly. “It’s a little too short to see, maybe, but-” He reaches down and grabs my hand, placing it upon his handiwork. “There you go.”

His touch lingers for a moment, once again making me question the intentions behind it- wonder how much of this is my perception, if I’m imagining the extra milliseconds of time, if he’s always been this way and I’ve never noticed.

“It- feels nice. Where’d you learn to braid like that? Usually it’s a mess whenever I try.”

“It’s my job to be good with my hands.”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking- but learning to braid hair is far less the responsibility of the physician.”

“Well- I had a reason to, some time ago.”

“Oh? Family?” I step away, grabbing my shirt and slipping it on. Maybe I can finally learn a little more about him.

“No, nothing like that. I had a close friend who was very particular about his hair.”

“You did his hair for him?” Close friends, indeed.

“Are you ready?” He stands by the doorway, sliding his gloves back on. “I know I said we were taking a break but- I didn’t expect you to- since you’ve- since I’ve gotten what I need, we are free to go.”

Avoiding the issue. Alright, fine. “Yeah- let’s go.”

~~~

“I don’t think there’s really any way to avoid it, if I want to stay up-to-date with the most recent studies.”

I stare at the doctor, who’s got a knife in one hand and a woolen blanket in the other. “Isn’t this- isn’t it a little extreme?”

“No.” He spears the knife through the blanket, tearing a long strip off the end of it, several centimeters thick and much, much longer. “I don’t trust you.”

“Yeah but- I mean-” I swallow nervously, watching him set the knife aside and gesture for me to sit at the table.

“You don’t trust me?”

How am I to know if I do? He’s faceless, nameless, made up of patches of a vague and scandalous past. “Would it surprise you if I said I don’t? How would I trust a man who cannot trust me in turn?”

“You’ve given me very good reason not to.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Okay- that’s fair. Just- don’t let me fall off the table or anything.”

“You’re in very capable hands, I assure you.”

I’m almost more worried about that- the way he sends my heart racing at a simple touch, even the slightest brush against me can send my head reeling if it’s the right moment.

“Donny?”

“Sorry, right, table.” I make my way over, awkwardly sitting on the tabletop, swinging my legs as I wait for him.

“Alright- you’re clear on what the plan is, yes?”

I nod, watching him as he doubles the fabric over itself and tugs on it, testing the strength of it. He steps into my space, slotting in between my knees and peering up at me. “Alright then, here we go-”

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and relishing in the feeling of his arms resting against my shoulders as he ties the blindfold behind my head. My heart feels as if it’s going to pound out of my chest, not helped by the way he trails his hands back over my shoulders after he’s finished tying the blindfold. I swallow back the compulsory want for more.

A simple need, not a desire, to be the object of his attention.

“Alright- remember, don’t peek.”

I open my eyes beneath the blindfold, barely registering a flicker of light from a slight space between it and myself. Even if I were able to see more through it, the angle would have me gazing at the floor.

“I won’t.” I would.

I hear him take a breath in. “It’s time to begin, then.”

[dontspillthefrijoles43]

Can I take care of you? (Drabble #2)

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Nothing major, just fluff and self care, haircare, Attempted use of he/they pronouns( writing practice)

(A/N: Thought of this after rush of finales week- 0 stars would not recommend exams. But just the thought of hair care, plus this semi alt canon/canon complaint with Leo character design, and boom this comes along.

Btw the pictures are all from pintrest, I edited the last one bc i don’t know how old it is and I want to respect op privacy. It is one of my references for Leo character design. I am inconsistent with a face claim.

Anyways, I'm still editing the new chapter before I post, hoping to get it out soon asp. Hope you all enjoy this small fic.)

Likes 💟, Reblogs🔁, and comments 💬 are very much appreciated

—

“Can I do your hair?” The question comes out of nowhere.

Leo paused mid-way through equations he had been scribbling, for the past hour. Maybe if Annabeth had considered a little bit of realistic psychics instead of complex design, but that’s beside the point.

He considers. Trying to understand. What’s wrong with his hair? Why is she asking? I mean it’s been a couple of days or two since they sat down and did a routine. 

“Umn…I dunno Cariño. I mean I just got this last equation. If I lose track I could…” They start, but can see her face shift. A mild annoyance. Is she mad at him? His lips thinned a bit. “I mean, I don't know if you want to get through all the frizz and tangles. Plus I have a bit of a tender scalp and all. And I know I’m not real good with sitting still—“

“Hey,” Breisa interrupts with a small breath, holding onto his swivel chair. Trying to break through his word stream. “I’m only asking if you want to. You don’t have to.” She’s holding his jaw, stroking his cheek gently with her thumbs.

“Ya se.” He smiles a bit. Still feeling a bit guilty. “I just…it’s so much time to spend on me. Plus working and all that. Do you really want to deal with me?”

She stops stroking his cheek, “Nada de eso.” She lets them meet her gaze. “You think too much about it. I’m not offering so I can deal with you. I’m offering because I want to.”

Breisa kissed his forehead, “Besides, Amorcito. I think you need a break.” She emphasized—looking at the stack of design sketches, blueprints scatter with equations, and trinkets half built with smudges of oil. 

Leo blinked owlishly. Looking at the mess on his desk. Then back at her.

He shrugged with a small sigh, “Meh. Why not?“

— 

“Cariño, tell me again. Why are there so many products?” Leo asked as she wrapped a towel around his neck. 

She scoffed out a playful laugh,“¿Has visto tus rizos?”She plucked a hanging strand from his forehead. “I’m gonna need prayer, coconut oil, and anything I can find to handle these.” 

Leo pouted, “It ain’t that bad.”

“How many times of day do you condition? Comb? And how do you deal with buildup?” She tested the water a bit to make sure it was warm. 

Their  silence was an answer. 

“Que pensé.” Breisa teased softly, taping his shoulder so he knew to lean his head back into the bathroom tub. “Good temperature?” 

Leo felt the warm water run through his scalp, his body still— debating whether or not it was sensory overload. It was not. “Good.” 

“Mind if I?” Breisa hovered her hands over his hair. 

Leo nodded, “Go ahead.”

She let her fingers sink in his curls. Using the hose, making sure to rinse out the first layer of buildup. 

He jolted a bit, the water giving him a tickling sensation. But his shoulders slowly eased down. 

She massaged his neck and shoulders. Seeing how he almost involuntarily closed his eyes, with a small quirk of his lips. 

She ringed out his hair after a while, scrunching out the heaviness of the moisture. Leaving his hair damp, she reached for the shampoos. 

“What are we feeling, guapo? Strong smell, herbal, or fruit?”

“Herbal.” Leo said quickly. Not at all needy from the lack of her touch. 

Breisa noticed, as always. “Okay.” She said snorting softly. She grabbed the old spice shampoo, making sure it was shampoo. 

Not cause of the countless times she mixed the conditioner with the shampoo, because the bottle looked the same. 

She uncapped, drizzled some in his hair, and began to massage from the base of his neck up. Gently tugging the deep tangles apart. Also trying to lather out enough of the second layer of buildup. 

As she focused on this. Leo was already lost by her movements. The small twitch became a dazed smile. His head tilted to follow the motion of her hands. Their body was completely laxed by her touch. 

He wasn’t even bouncing his leg, or fidgeting with the seat. Just completely in her care. A safe bubble.

As Breisa rinsed out his hair again, she rubbed his cheek affectionately. Lather his curls once more with herbal conditioner. Threading her fingers, while using a good brush to get the knots out. Repeat rinsing through his scalp. And squeezed out the excess water from the strands. 

“Do you have a particular style you want?” She sectioned their hair with the teeth of a comb and clips to separate his curls evenly. 

“Hmn?” They hummed, coming out of his buzz. Like Briesa washed out all the stress from their brain. He noticed her waiting for him to answer. “Oh, well…It’s kind of long huh?  Whaddya think, twists or braids? Maybe Coils? Natural?”

“I could if I had my trimmers.” Breisa considered. “It takes too long with the length. And I know you get angsty when your hair  is being tugged in different directions.”

“Only if you do it wrong, Cariño.” Leo drawled with a sly grin, almost cheeky. “I mean you’ve tugged before, those times  I didn’t really complain—“

“Ay ya!” Breisa swatted his shoulder with the comb,  burning with embarrassment. “I’ll do coils. Okay? Is that fair?” 

“Still gonna pull my hair?”

Another swat to their shoulder as they snorted. 

She then made sure each section was held up just right. Before she reached for leave in conditioner and cream.

With another hair tool she began to stylize his hair: combing it again, applied conditioner cream mix, twirled it into an even coil, and scrunched a section with a Cotton t-shirt. 

A repeated the process with each section. While managing to massage the back of his neck. Taking a small five minute break every now and then. Cracking her wrist from the process. Giving him extra kisses for being patient. 

 And admiring how his hair was coming along. It started to gain shape. Each scrunch added to the cloud of softness.

Finally she came up to the front section, facing him. Breisa could see the dopey grin across his face. Completely enamored with her. 

When she reached for the last few strands that crowned around his head like a halo. She felt his lips touch her wrist. 

“I’m not done you know,” Breisa muttered tenderly.

Leo kissed her wrist again, “M’know.” A few more pecks along her pulse. “Just giving you a pre-thank you.”

She kissed above his head for the hundredth time that day. Fixing the last strand. “Need me to defuse it?”

“No need.” Underneath her fingers his curls began to heat up. 

“Wait.” He stopped warming up like a furnace. 

She grabbed the coconut oil, rubbed it across her fingers and palms. Carefully and intentionally trying to cover as much of his scalp and roots. Just enough so it’s hydrated and healthy for his scalp. “Okay.”

Leo leaned against her shoulder and sighed dreamily as they warmed up. “Keep playing with m’ hair?” 

“Is that my thanks?” Breisa teased. 

He huffed, “You offered?”

She tugged on the tuff below the nape of his neck. “Bed?” 

Leo nodded against her shoulder, with a peck on her neck. 

Breisa giggled, picking him up, and leading him to the twin size comforter. 

She sank into the memory foam mattress, letting him rest his head on her soft middle. He was already a dead man, feeling content and pleasure beyond elysium, omeyocan, and any other version of heaven.

When Leo felt her palm splay on his neck and her fingers ruffled his curls to the fluffiest texture. He melted like butter….No worse… he melted with puppy love. The kind they never publicly embarrassed themselves with. That was only for her to see.

Thrummed with affection, he mumbled, “When I’m drowning in stress, you know how to press out all the frizz and wrinkles from my head.”

“You should let me take care of you more often.” Breisa murmured as he looked up at her. She shifted and met his lips with a tender embrace. 

Wordlessly Leo agreed, moving up to her shoulder. Dozing off without a care in the world, just lucky to be in her arms. As Breisa gently combed through his well done coils with her own eyes growing heavy with sleep.

—