#still trying to figure out how to draw her her hair in particular is hard to draw for me

[sonknuxadow]

hi i like sage a lot

[halfmoonshines]

soft spot

damon salvatore x reader

summary; you're injured in a fight with a rogue vampire who breezed into town, and Damon is being weird about it

hurt/comfort

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You tried to stay hidden in the shadows outside of the streetlight, but your rapid heartbeat probably would've given you away either way.

"Who the hell is this guy?" You heard Damon mutter from the spot he was tossed just a few feet away from you, dusting the dirt from the trash cans he'd squished like cardboard. His ice blue eyes spared you a quick glance but didn't say a word, trying not to draw any attention your way.

Damon intervened as Caroline was struggling to grapple with the stranger. In the span of a moment, she was on the ground groaning with a broken arm and he had launched the assailant to give them a chance to regroup - right toward you.

You couldn't help the little gasp that you emitted, no matter how much time you spent around these creatures this was a vampire. One in particular who would have no hang ups about snapping your neck.

Per their supernatural hearing, it didn't take long for the mans vicious senses to find you, and took half as long for him to have a bruising hand around your neck.

The sound of Damon yelling your name was distant in the background, you were focused on the threat literally snarling in your face.

"Don't you smell good?"

That was as far as the stranger managed to get before Damon had the broken handle of a broom protruding from his back. His grip slipped off your throat as his body slid sideways and you toppled to the ground, heading bouncing off the pavement hard enough for you to see stars.

Damon's voice was faint to you again, but you could hear him begging for your attention. Caroline was in the background too, in panicked discussion with someone over the phone. You couldn't get your eyes to focus though, hair becoming wet and warm.

The eldest Salvatore's touch on you was feather light, his mouth still moving with words he wanted you to latch onto but you had already lost the dance with consciousness.

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The first thing you were aware of when you woke up in a bed was that it was decidedly not yours. The next thing you noticed was that you weren't in any pain, just a bit stiff when you went to sit up from the bed. Someone had definitely given you blood, which was against every rule her and her friends had discussed, but from the smell of the sheets behind you - Damon wouldn't have cared either way.

You made your way out of the room and down the stairs, vaguely knowing the layout of the boarding house from your handful of times actually coming inside. Over the last few months you had become dangerously intertwined in Elena's grapple with the supernatural, despite Bonnie's vehement advice to go as far as possible. You were emancipated, you could switch schools and move to Pennsylvania.

No, you couldn't. Once your conscious had been opened to everything around you, once you were aware of the dangers of the dark - you could never ignore that. Better the evil you know.

Speaking of.

You came upon Damon in his favorite spot, a tumbler of bourbon in his hand while he leaned up against the fireplace. The suit jacket he had been wearing earlier that night was discarded on the couch behind him, a small amount of blood on the collar of his shirt still.

"You always look so broody." Poking fun at him might not be in your best interest, but you figured you'd give it a go. Over the last few months, your and Damon's relationship had morphed into something you couldn't quite understand, but moments like these had seemed to become more comfortable between you.

"I believe you're confusing me with my much broodier younger brother." Damon's words were laced with sarcasm, but his tone didn't have a hint of amusement.

You felt suddenly awkward, in his space and home. Just because you had gotten kind of comfortable lately didn't mean he wanted to be around you.

"Well, thanks for the whole life saving thing." You began to babble nervously, a faint pink glow to your cheeks. "I'll get out of your hair. Sorry for taking your bed, I don't even know what time it is-" You had begun turning toward the door, making to just leave and find a way home. How you could this age and still flustered in front of attractive men, especially murderous ones was beyond you.

Damon appearing in front of you almost made your heart stop, hair stirring at his incredibly fast movements. He was barely a foot away, his piercing gaze holding your confused one. From this close you could smell just how much he had probably drank.

"Are you... okay, Damon?" Your voice wavered a bit under the heat of his stare and you saw the muscle in his jaw working overtime while he looked like he was debating whether or not he wanted to actually say anything to you.

"You don't have to thank me for saving you when you were in danger because of me." His eyes had drifted from your eyes to your neck, voice whisper quiet.

Vulnerability was the last thing you expected from the man standing over you. "What do you mean? It wasn't your fault. Just wrong place, wrong time and I so happen to be the weakest link." You hoped your voice conveyed even a bit of humor.

His eyes snapped back up to yours, head tilting slightly while he assessed you. Damon's hand rose to grab a lock of your hair, twirling it around his finger in thought. Your breath caught in your throat, feeling like you were on the precipice of something.

"My weakest link, maybe. Have I told you how much I like your hair?" His voice was still quiet, an innocent lilt.

Your mind was reeling, half drunk on his closeness and hazed by confusion. Where was this coming from? Had he drank a small liquor store and now he was confusing her for her much more appealing best friend?

"Damon, I'm not sure how much you've had to drink, but I'm happy to brew you a pot of coffee. Does that even work for vampires?"

You had started to pull away, making to turn toward the kitchen but Damon was infinitely faster than you. His drink was discarded, one hand going to your upper arm and the other to your waist, tugging you back into his vicinity.

"On the contrary, I don't think I've ever been so sure minded, sparrow. I'm sorry for not protecting you tonight." His voice was tight now, the warmth of his hands tingling down your body.

"It's not your fault, or job, Damon." Your voice had quieted to match his, all humor leaving. You didn't know where this guilt had come from, but it was misplaced. Since you'd met Damon he'd made some bad decisions, but you had also seen his sacrifice so much for the sake of the team. Even if others didn't acknowledge it, he didn't need to add anymore to his plate.

"I'd like it to be. My job." His reply was lightning quick, eyes pinning yours in place.

Were you dreaming?

Damon's signature smirk was visible for a split second, telling you that your confusion was written all over your face. "I think that I'm asking you, in the most coming of age movie way, if you'd like to go steady?"

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send any fic requests here!! all comments/criticisms/requests welcome

[emeritusemeritus]

Just wanna be.

Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight prequel

[Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley]

Title: Just wanna be (witch you in the moonlight).

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Timeline: Varied. Mentions of canonical points throughout the series.

Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins.

Warnings: none really? Brief mentions of sexual innuendos, breasts, kissing and a single wet T-shirt, just funny fluff. Tame curse words.

How it all began…

(Can be read alone or as part of the larger series)

Finding out you were a witch at the age of 11 had been nothing short of world altering for you, only learning the secret of your mother's lineage and predisposition for magic when your Hogwarts letter arrived. Your mother had left when you were only a baby and you'd never heard anything since, nor had she ever told your dad or anyone else in your life about her abilities.

Trying to navigate this new life, this entirely new world, had been hard for you but you'd always seen your magic as a gift so you had tried your hardest to adapt and flourish, working hard in school to honour the gift you'd been given. You made friends, got consistently good grades and still managed to keep your toes in the muggle world where your friends kept you updated with music and movies, eventually finding the best of both worlds. You finally felt complete in your life, never quite feeling as if you belonged in your previous life, always feeling a little different to the other kids.

You met Fred and George Weasley on your first day at Hogwarts. You'd seen them at your sorting ceremony on your first night in the castle, being one year younger than them, they cheered as you were sorted into Gryffindor, just as they had for every new Gryffindor student. Their towering height above all the other Gryffindor students made them a sort of a figure head for the house, always drawing your attention first wherever they were. You'd sat next to a few of their friends and had struck up a conversation with them during the very first feast. The next day, they'd saved you a seat at each meal. Somewhere along the way, the seat they saved would always be next to them and then over the years it had changed to be between them.

A year later when their younger brother Ron arrived with Harry and Hermione, you'd made quick friends with them all, and then with Ginny a year later, though your relationship with the twins had always been superior to everyone else.

You couldn't deny that they were your best friends, a whirlwind of mischief and pranks that kept you almost constantly entertained. You were one of the only people who were able to tell them apart, which you believe was the reason they had never pulled a prank on you, bar the usual stuff.

Between your third and fourth year, you'd started feeling differently about them, one brother in particular.

The Weasley family has taken a once in a lifetime trip to Egypt to visit Bill during the school holidays and you'd realised pretty quickly on that you missed Fred and George a little more than you should have.

You started to take more notice of your appearance around them, no longer wanting to be seen as just one of the guys or an extension of them, dressing nicer and paying more attention to your hair and makeup, not that you hadn't before but in retrospect it was amplified whenever you knew you'd be around the twins.

Fred caught your attention first, realising that you had a crush on him as he was always the more cheeky and flirty one of the twins, the more physically affectionate. George was undeniably sweet and good looking but there was something about Fred you found yourself drawn to, butterflies appearing whenever he'd look at you or smile at you a certain way. Both of the twins had seemed to have a growth spurt over the end of the school year, looking more and more like men everyday which only increased your feelings.

Just after they returned from Egypt, before school resumed, you had spent the week at the Burrow with the Weasley's. Molly had always graciously extended an invitation to you during breaks and had mentioned on more than one occasion that she liked when you visited as you helped keep the twins in line. You wholeheartedly disagreed, knowing nothing could truly keep them in line and away from mischief but you did agree that they seemed to be much more mellow and considerate whenever you were around.

You and the twins had taken a late night walk to the waters edge, sitting beside the small lake and were enjoying a rare moment of peace, skimming stones along the water and laughing. It was still warm enough that you didn't need jumpers even after dark as you blissfully frolicked in the summer heat.

"Here, like this," George said, moving to stand closely behind you as he grabbed hold of your throwing arms and guided it so that you could skim the pebbles rather than just dunking. The sudden proximity to George left you a little breathless and surprised at your reaction. All this time you had thought it was just Fred you fancied and you hadn't really considered your feelings for George, though you couldn't deny that they weren't strictly platonic.

You ruminated on those feelings quietly as you watched them fooling about near the edge of the lake, stretching out the moment you knew was inevitable as they both landed with a large splash into the water. The noise broke you out of your little reverie and you cackled with infectious laughter at seeing them drag themselves out of the lake looking like Scabbers wet through.

They briefly shared a look and you knew you were in for trouble. You briefly tried to run away from them but their long legs caught up to you without much effort, tackling you to the ground as you squealed. Instead of being thrown into the lake as well, they stood above you and vigorously shook their heads so that you were sprinkled with an influx of water. Fred also wrangled his wet T-shirt off and squeezed it out over you, drenching you further.

"Dicks," you muttered whilst laughing once they had finished wetting you through. You pushed George down to the ground as he stood there laughing, swiping his feet from underneath him and managed to kick Fred in the back of the knee so that his legs buckled, only fuelling your laughter.

You stood up to ring out the bottom of your shirt just as Fred began talking about how they should go up and fetch some of their whizzbang prototypes to poke one through Ron's bedroom window when he suddenly stopped talking mid sentence. You looked up at him and found him staring at you with wide eyes. Your eyes flickered to George who had apparently been confused by Fred's sudden silence and had followed Fred's gaze upon you. You frowned, looking down at where the boys were staring and had noticed that in getting wet, the white T-shirt you'd been wearing had become always entirely transparent and was clinging to you like a second skin. Your pale pick bra was showing through, highlighting the floral pattern of the lace, leaving no doubt about what you were wearing and hiding underneath your shirt.

"Perverts," you muttered with a laugh, trying to hide your embarrassment as you turned around to ring out the shirt, wishing you were able to cast a quick drying charm outside of school. When you turned back around, the boys were still staring at you, shamelessly ogling.

"Wow princess, where have you been hiding those?" Fred smirks unashamedly as he breaks out of his little trance, instantly teasing you. The name 'princess' was new and you couldn't deny that it affected you in ways you couldn't explain, making your mouth go dry for a second.

"Shove off," you laughed, trying to divert the conversation. George had a blush on his cheeks as he at least tried to look away, more shameful than his brother. "Can we go back in now? I'm kind of cold," you asked, already gathering your things.

"We can tell," Fred jokes with a smug smile tugging at his lips. You gasp and reach out to smack him in the arm but he merely chuckles, as does George.

"Bye," you said, walking back to the house, feeling a little uncomfortable at the situation, not before reaching out to shove Fred back into the lake. George's laughter rang out into the still night and you walked back into the house feeling a little more smug.

The next day, both the twins were been acting differently towards you, a little sheepish and quieter than usual. You found yourself watching them a little more than usual and didn't miss the occasional looks they'd give you, or specifically your breasts when they thought you weren't looking.

After that first day, the boys were mostly back to normal with you but they would look over at you more when they thought you weren't paying attention, or perhaps you just noticed it more. Once you were back at school, things largely returned back to normal, all of you falling back into your usual routine of classes and mischief.

One thing you did notice, was that each brother had continuously tried to spend more time alone with you, without the other brother present. You'd made a joke about them being conjoined twins rather than identical more than once, finding it strange how they would seek you out separately but it was actually nice to spend one on one time with your best friends.

Fred had become even more openly affectionate with his touches and flirty words and you couldn't determine if it was in a teasing manner or not. George had become increasingly confident in your presence and you found that you really enjoyed spending time with him alone. His sweet nature was still very much present but he also had a cheeky and teasing side that rivalled the other, often harsher twin.

You couldn't understand it really, feeling like there was an underlying reason for them wanting to spend time alone with you, but you could never put your finger on exactly the reason why. It was usually something as silly as going to the kitchens after dark with one of them, going with one of them to the library or meeting before a shared detention so you could go together. Sometimes it was going to Hogsmeade with Fred and collecting things from Zonkos they needed or George craving a butterbeer and insisting he'd buy you one too if you joined him.

You didn't know quite what their intentions were until well into your fourth year.

The twins had given Harry the marauders map they'd been using since they stole it first year, which meant that although they memorised all the secret passageways, they were no longer able to see who was lurking around, therefore they would need a lookout. You naturally became the lookout for them as they raided Snape's personal store for something they were creating. You all, surprisingly, managed to get away Scott free and had tailed it out of the dungeons quickly and ran towards the lake.

"Well princess, I'd say that was a job well done," Fred says, slightly breathless from the running as he throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

"Yeah well done Angel, saved our lives back there," George added, bumping his hip into yours as he moved to sit down on the grass near your feet. He'd started calling you angel in private at the start of the year after hearing Fred call you princess, something he had done everyday since that day at the Burrow.

"Saved your arses more like," you laughed, throwing yourself down onto the ground next to George. Fred quickly followed and you sat in your usual order subconsciously as you looked out at the gleaming lake.

"We don't come here enough, it's really pretty," you said, looking out at the rippling water that reflected the light of the moon.

"Yeah it is, don't you think Georgie?" Fred said with a humour to his voice you couldn't place.

"Beautiful I'd say Freddie, not just pretty."

You turned to look at them both, thinking they were teasing you about calling the scenery pretty but when you turned their gazes were fixed on you. You frowned in confusion and turned away, trying to ignore the weirdness happening around you.

"So what do you say? Spin the bottle?" Fred laughs, pulling out the canister of whatever the hell he'd stolen from snape.

"If this is a setup because you want to kiss your own brother, I'm leaving," you said, trying to bite back the smile that threatened your lips. Fred blanched and instantly regretted the words leaving his mouth as George laughed.

"Bit vain really, wanting to kiss the better looking version of yourself," George adds, playing along. Fred reaches around behind you and smacks George in the head, making you chuckle as you leaned back on the grass.

"Wasn't you I wanted to kiss," Fred mumbled and you shot up from your laid down position to look at him.

"Come again?" You asked, feeling like the wind had been knocked out your sails.

He seemed to blush a little before his natural cockiness took over and he shrugged as if it was nothing, "it was you I wanted to kiss."

You didn't have words, nor thoughts really as you looked at him in shock, the butterflies in your tummy wildly flapping about at his words.

"Can I?" He asks, leaning in towards you. Your eyes flicker over to George who looks on without any hint of jealousy or anger, just merely watching. It felt a little awkward to have an audience but for some reason it just felt right. Your eyes flick back to Fred's and you manage a shy little smile as you subtly nod your head. He smirks and pulls you in, placing his lips upon yours as he kissed you. His lips are softer than you imagined as he begins gently before deepening the kiss after a few moments, the brief awkward hesitation slipping away. His right hand comes up to grab the space between your neck and your jaw, his big hands cradling your face as he pulls you in even deeper.

You're certain fireworks are going off around you, though it could just be in your head as you submit to his dominant kiss. When you pull apart, he rests his forehead on yours as you both smile.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he whispers, showing the rare, honest side of him.

"I do," you whispered back, admitting just how much you like him. You see his eyes widen slightly a your revelation and a large smile crosses his features.

"You know, I'm not the only one who's wanted to do that," he says, dropping his hand from your neck to rub down your arm. You shoot your head to George who looks on with a shy smile, already blushing. Your heart races, thinking about what this means. Did he like you too?

"Georgie?" You ask, your uncharacteristically voice shy and timid as you look into his eyes. He nods with a serious expression before imploring you with his eyes, trying to gage your reaction. You flick your eyes down to his lips and it's all he needs to lean forward as your lips crash with each other. His hand meets yours on the ground as he fixes your hands together, an innocent and sweet gesture that warms your heart.

His lips are just as soft as Fred's but you notice that his nose ever so slightly digs into your cheek a little more in the most wonderful way. He's softer and less dominant than Fred but no better or worse. Fireworks continue to dance around you and you feel like you've touched an electric live wire at the intensity of the kiss. George's kiss remains sweet and a little more timid than Fred's but it's electrifying, feeling the subtle differences of each brother as you're reminded that it's definitely George you're kissing.

You pull apart and share a shy giggle, his hand pulling away from yours, leaving you a little breathless and a lot confused.

"You, both?" You ask, unsure of the words. They both nod with serious expressions, still smiling but looking genuine.

"We've liked you for a long time," George admits.

"Both of us," Fred adds.

It feels like you have a movie reel playing behind your eyes as you think back over all the time you've shared with the twins and all the subtle and not subtle ways they've tried to tell you, until one moment stands out in your mind.

"Since the wet T-shirt incident?" You ask with one eyebrow raised, suspicious of their motives. If it was just because they'd inadvertently seen your breasts they could stuff it. George immediately blushes whereas Fred chuckles, both shaking their head.

"No, long before that," George admits quietly.

"That did help though," Fred smirks, which you roll your eyes at.

"Why haven't you said anything?" You ask, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable and quite frankly a bit deceived. "Wait, this whole time with getting me alone, it was a scheme right?"

"No, not a scheme," they both said quickly, sensing your sudden defensiveness.

"We didn't know if you liked us like that or not, every time we came close to thinking you did something would happen and we'd doubt ourselves or the other brother would turn up and ruin the moment so we tried to spend time separately with you, to see how you felt about us individually," George explains.

"We figured you'd show some signs that you preferred one of us or not and that way we'd know," Fred adds.

"But you didn't," they both say together.

George carries on explaining, "so we figured you either didn't like us like that or you liked both."

Their words hung in the air for a few moments as you processed everything, the tension rising at your silence. You chewed on your lip as the weight of the conversation pulled at you.

"I, I don't know," you mumbled, unable to look them in the eyes. "I thought... I don't know."

"Princess," Fred says. His tone is gentle but dominant in his own way, prompting you to look at him. "Whatever you say, it won't change things, except for how you want it to."

"You don't have to chose right now, but if it's only one or neither of us, then no hard feelings," George adds.

"But, if it's both and if you're game, we're willing to both try and earn your affections," Fred says.

"And no hard feelings," George adds.

"But, won't the other brother be jealous or mad or?" You begin to say.

"Angel, you're overthinking it," George says gently with a little smile, slowly reaching for your hand again, so slowly that he clearly anticipates you snatching it away from him, but you don't. "I like you, have for a long time, so has Fred. If you like him, be with him. If you like me, be with me. If you like both, be with both of us for now and decide later once we've tried to woo you."

"Of course we'd have to keep it secret if that's the case," Fred adds, sounding surprisingly reasonable for him, "but we'd do it for you."

"If you chose Fred," George begins to say, squeezing your hand, "it's okay, nothing changes between us and likewise with me, Fred won't disappear."

"And we'd never be mad at you for choosing who you wanted."

You exhale a shaky breath and nod, showing that you understood but needed some time to think.

"I thought it was Fred," you say quietly, not daring to  speak any louder for fear that you wouldn't be able to speak, "but then it sort of changed."

You suddenly found your confidence and began to speak openly about how you were feeling, laying all your cards on the table.

"I think I just pushed down the feelings I have for George and told myself that it was just Fred because I've never wanted you both to feel like you're just one person. Like, who fancies both twin brothers? And it's not because you look similar, you both have such different personalities and things that make you, you, and I love that. I like both of you, in different ways and for different reasons but I can't come between you."

"You wouldn't be between us," George says carefully.

"Unless you wanted that," Fred says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, earning a harsh shove from George and a roll of your eyes.

"It would be me and you and you and Fred. And, not versus. We might be fighting for your affections but we're not competing."

"So we try it for a while and if it doesn't work, we all make the decision, collectively, to end it. Or maybe it works out for one of us," Fred shrugs.

"What if you find someone else you want? I can't ask either of you to wait around," you say, suddenly considering the possibilities.

"Not gonna happen princess," Fred says confidently, crossing his arms over his chest. George shakes his head, agreeing with his brother, earning a little sigh from you at their stubbornness.

A few moments of silence pass as you consider all your options, trying to weigh it up in your mind, measuring the practicalities and the potential damages.

"What if I can't chose in the end?" You ask quietly again, losing any previous courage you had.

"Then we figure it out," Fred says calmly.

[jeanette-luminia]

𝐋𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐫𝐲 || 𝑳𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒂 𝑾𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒔

You lay in bed, layered with multiple blankets, and a racing brain. You don’t know why all of the sudden, you were getting worse again. You promised Larissa you’d get better, you promised. You couldn’t help but have an aching feeling in your chest.

Larissa.

Because of Larissa, you chose to be better, you chose to get better. Investing in a more healthy habit, occasionally finding new hobbies to cope with. You promised her that you’d get better.

But now here you were, lying in bed, bags under your eyes, you haven’t gone to work for days, your fellow teacher's worries about your health, sending messages that you choose to ignore. One message, in particular, was hard to ignore, only choosing to text so dryly you manage to cringe and leave your phone alone.

You couldn’t bare to face her, she felt too hopeful when you promised her, and you felt like you just lied to her.

You lied to her, your brain tells you.

You kept her hope up, look at you now.

Your negative thoughts vary and created a mess out of you, leaving you to cry alone in the dark. With no one to comfort you.

Your thoughts were too loud for you to hear the knock on your door. Larissa knocked on your door again, and again, yet to no avail. Her worry increases, she figured if you’re not gonna open the door, she’ll open herself with the spare key you gave her.

Entering your apartment, she heard a faint cry. To her, it was a cry for help. She first searched your living room, only to see it empty. Then the bathroom, where she was welcomed by emptiness. One last room, your room.

As she steps closer, your cries get louder. Oh, how she wished she could have been there sooner. Wasting no time knocking on your door, alerting her presence. “Y/N, darling? It’s me,” she said softly, only for you to hear.

You shot your eyes wide open, not expecting her arrival. “Don’t come in.” you raised your voice. She heard how strained and weak it is, she guessed that you’ve been crying. Her heart breaks, even more, imagining how hard it is to suffer alone. “Darling, please let me in.” her pleas didn’t reach you as you wipe your tears which wouldn’t stop flowing aggressively. You got tired, and your wipe turned sloppy, covering your eyes, maybe that’ll stop the tears from flowing.

“I…” you hiccupped. “I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m fine—” in the midst of trying to form your words, a familiar hand removed your hands away from your face.

“You are not fine.” She whispered, her slender gentle hands finding their way to your wet cheeks. Her gentleness made you tear up your walls completely. Your sob racked the room, you let your pent-up emotions from the past few days out. Your sobs were loud your tears uncontrollably fell, yet you still desperately wipe them away.

Larissa just brushed your hand away, as you pulled you closer and embraced you. “I’m— sorry, I promised that I’d get better. I was trying— I really am.” you stutter, words were jumbled, and it didn’t help that you kept gasping for air whilst pressing yourself closer to your lover.

“Darling, listen to me.” she managed to comb your hair, kissing the top of your head, and drawing circles around your back.

“I’m so proud of you for trying.”

Proud. No one ever told you that they were proud of you.

“I’m proud of you for keeping it.” she pressed another kiss on your head. “I hope you never lie when you cry.” her hand that was once on your back grabbed your hand, intertwining like your hands were made for her to hold. “When there’s snot running down your face. When your chest aches and you can barely breathe.” she paused, gently moving you away, kissing your forehead.

“I hope you don’t lie.”

“I hope you cry, to let out the sadness or whatever it is that is hurting you, but I don’t want you to lie.” she kissed your eyelids, tasting the salty tear that has still yet to seize. “It is fine if you acknowledge the pain, the feeling of loneliness, feeling completely entirely lost.” and she kissed your other eyelid.

“But I hope you never tell yourself ugly lies about who you are.” her hand held your chin to look at her in the eye as caressed your cheek. Your heart broke at the sight of her teary, jaws clenched.

“I hope every teardrop washes away your sadness, without washing away you too.” finally, it was then she finally let her tears drop along her face as she kissed you. Pulling you closer as you both moved away from each other's lips and held each other for a moment.

“I love you, Larissa.”

She kissed your head and put it on top of yours, hearing your rigid breaths calm down. Your eyes felt heavy, tired from crying she lay you in bed, making sure you were comfortable. “I love you too, my love.”

Before she could leave, you took her hand. “... Stay with me. Please.”

She smiled, caressing your head, and kissing your forehead as you slowly drift to sleep. “Of course, Dear. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

a/n: this is the prompt I took inspiration from! From @jibranwriting on tiktok.

© 𝐋𝐔𝐕-𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐃 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate. please ask me first then credit me once you shared my work to other platforms.

[pansy-picnics]

How would the tangled kids react to Varian and Cassandra’s villain arc? Also I love your art 😊

AJDJDJDGG OKAY SO. this is SO fucking good but ive been putting it off for so long bc i wanted to draw something to go with it but i’ve just. never figured out what so inevitably i’m just gonna answer it on its own

this subject in particular is SO FUNNY for me to think about bc i think the kids’ reactions depend a lot on how their parents talk abt it and both of them handle it in COMPLETELY different ways. like uknighted dream is pretty open abt it (obviously they give the incredibly watered down kid-safe version) and they kinda use it as a learning experience? like in very vague terms.

its kinda just like

alina: oh why are you and mama cass fighting in your drawing :(

rapunzel: <:) well yknow how if you shake a bottle of soda, when you open it it explodes everywhere?? well sometimes when we bottle up our feelings and don’t do anything with them or talk to someone we trust, they end up getting all shaken up in there, and eventually theyll explode! mama cass and i used to have a lot of trouble talking about our feelings, and because of all those emotions that got bottled up and shaken around in there, we found it hard to properly communicate with each other at all. but then we realized how much we really cared about each other and how we really wanted to make things work, so we learned to be more honest about how we felt and how to communicate with one another without everything just ‘exploding’, so to speak. and thats why we always teach you how to manage your big emotions, does that make sense? :)

on the other hand VARIAN? literally could not care less. at least not with the ud kids. he still has one of his wanted posters that hugo grabbed as a “souvenir” on their trip, and the automaton he used to fight rapunzel? its still in the corner of his lab and he pulls it apart regularly for scrap metal.

ryder will be wandering around his lab when hes like 7 and hes like “uncle vari whats that”

varian: that’s an automaton buddy

ryder: did you make it?

varian: yeah

ryder: what’s it for

varian: well nothing now it’s just spare parts. but i actually made it a long time ago to fight your mom

ryder: which one

varian: both actually. and technically your dad. but mostly rapunzel

ryder: oh

ryder: did you win?

varian: no it wasnt really that kind of fight. nobody won

ryder: oh that’s boring

ryder: can i try it

varian: absolutely not

when emery comes along though varian is like “okay we are Never addressing this again” bc em thinks varian is SO cool and varian actually cares So much about his newfound image. (very stupid of him for that to be his main priority obviously bc emery is like 4 and if she knew what he did she would probably just be like “okay. can i have apple juice”)

anyways yeah ilmari and the twins don’t really tell her anything either because they don’t really see it as anything worth telling her about, especially in comparison to way more important things like the fact that lance will sometimes sneak you dessert before dinner if you can convince eugene he has a gray hair without him catching on. so obviously emery grows up fairly unaware of anything varian has done but the defining factor is that shes constantly hearing about it out of context and is just left to struggle with that enigma.

like you know the experience of being like 14 years old at the family thanksgiving and you get to sit at the grown ups table for the first time and hear about all their weird beef and inside jokes and also hear your aunt mention out of context that hey your dad went to prison once bc that’s LITERALLY what the tangled kids experience in relation to their parents’ pasts. like the twins forgot about most of what varian told them by the time they grew up, they knew the watered down version of what happened with cass but they never knew the little details right. so they’ll just be hanging out playing checkers together while the adults are sitting across the room chatting over drinks and varian jokes “oh man its just like that one time cass kidnapped me” and all the kids immediately whip their heads around like “WHAT?”

this is ESPECIALLY true with emery who’s parents are notorious for having more insults for each other than pet names. em could just be reading by the fireplace late one night and var and hugo come out for a midnight snack and just start talking like

hugo: sometimes i think maybe objectively we should be evil again. like just for fun

varian: honestly. i took over the kingdom once i could do it again no problem

hugo: you’re probably actually strong enough to do it yourself now 🥺

varian: you want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid

emery: ….right so are we just gonna brush over the “again” part or did you guys forget i was here

varian also eventually realizes that by doing this he is replicating EXACTLY how quirin used to be secretive of his own past and how like one day varian just suddenly had to grapple with the knowledge that his dad who baked pies and fed the apple peels to his raccoon probably had a kill count. and obviously varian is absolutely distraught over this revelation

“HUGO HELP ME. I think im becoming my dad” “oh. well hey it happens to all of us it could be worse. besides your dad is hot so like i see it as a win win” “What” “what?”

i should probably also mention that ilmari knew about cass’s villain arc long before they even MET and ilmari actively tries to use this against her when they’re like 13. like “yeah well you cant tell ME what to do i’m gonna tell alina and ryder you tried to stab mom when you were in your 20s” (it doesn’t work btw)

[wormbloggign]

Glenn Chambers wore plaid pants with red and green, and a pink dress shirt, His belt bore a buckle with the PRT logo on it. His hair had changed too, parted neatly into what I assumed was ‘geek chic’, and the glasses had changed as well, with thick, round frames. An ID card hung around his neck. He didn’t fit any of those particular archetypes.

i love how shit his fits are. this man CANNOT dress. let him micromanage every aspect of your persona.

“Go, and hurry,” Glenn said.  “Tell them to fix it and cast another prototype before the run starts.  These are toys, they’ll be in the hands of children and collectors both.  The people who are buying these are fans.  What’s it going to say if their most immediate association with Esoteric is the broken toy sitting on a shelf?  It’s going to convey that he’s flimsy.”

ok thats just poor organisation, you'd have the base construction and elements of the doll figured out WELL before you start working on its visage. glenn has dropped in my opinion of him

“I asked to speak to you because I wanted you to know about the damage that’s being done.” “Ah, this is about the butterflies.” “It’s about a lot more than butterflies.  It’s the whole mindset.  The attitude of the heroes.  I’d talk to Chevalier, but he’s too busy.  I’d talk to Rime, but she’s recovering from being shot three times.  You’re the only other person I’ve met so far who really seems to be in a position to know what I’m talking about.  Besides, as far as I can figure, image and PR seem to be at the heart of the problem.”

she's back to her favourite pastime. (i genuinely love everytime she does this)

“The focus isn’t on lethal or nonlethal,” Glenn said. “It’s on whether we can trust you to keep on the path you’re walking. If you start taking shortcuts now, what happens a year down the line? If we decide you can go all-out in one specific situation, does that open the door for another?”

genuinely good point, good to see glenn is trying hard to properly vett new capes

taylor goes so hard as a monster i really do love it

“Until I turn eighteen,” I said, feeling a little hollow.

that's less than a year, you can handle that.

Chevalier approached.  “You murdered two people.  Three, going by your admission while in custody.  Two PRT directors, one major hero.  When Dragon and Defiant suggested we bring you on board, we were divided.  It was Glenn who offered the compromise that we ultimately agreed to.  This compromise.” I glanced at Glenn, who shrugged. Glenn?

glenn wanted an excuse to integrate hexagon tiling into NEW PRT advertising didnt he

“That’s why you’re waiting two years?  You think that it’ll take that long to vet me, before you can give me actual responsibility?”

two years? didnt she turn 17 around the time coil did his big bombing run? did she just forget?

LETS FUCKGIN GOOOOOO

that's genuinely horrifying, thanks

Mail from all around the United states.  From strangers, from fans. Words of support.  Criticism.  Death threats.

this is functionally the first time the general public has had the chance to communicate directly to her. yeah i expected as much

hes bumbling 🥺🥺🥺

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! what the fuck???

aishas doing great actually

lisa is lisa-ing

Atlas died.  I wanted to let you know.  Tattletale had him, but he wouldn’t eat or move.  We asked for him, and we found a place for him.  The guys say they think they know a good way to make a mold.  They’re covering him in brass. A way of saying you’re still with us.  Take care of yourself. -Char

MY BOY ;-;

silly goofy, rachels going through it.

overall, taylors polycule miss her and the others have their own thing

Withdrawing a notepad, I started sketching out the designs I was thinking of. Alterations to the costume, weapon ideas, tools and concepts.

!!!! !!!!

The costume Defiant and Dragon had given me was theirs, not mine.  The fighting style that had been dictated was Glenn’s and Chevalier’s. This, this would be me.

im gonna have to draw her new costume too when it get out arent i.

(we are pretending like im not incredibly excited about this development)

[qu0kkarambles]

Day 9- Beomgyu

Warnings- smut (minors dni), eavesdropping, mentions of porn, mutual masterbation, aftercare

‘I’m home gyu’ you shouted into the apartment, the sound of him in the kitchen drawing you further in. You headed toward the sound of noise, not registering what the noise was before opening the kitchen door.

Your kitchen opened up into a living room space, the open floor plan allowing for a large tv and sofa adjoined to the kitchen. As you wondered in, expecting to see your boyfriend cooking or snacking, you were shocked to see him on the phone, talking loudly as he hadn’t realised you were home yet.

‘Honestly yeonjun. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen…..I sent you the link…..bro watch it…..don’t act like you don’t send me porn links all the time.’ His last sentence stopped you in your tracks. He was talking about porn. And porn he really seemed to like.

Porn wasn’t a topic you shied away from, you and beomgyu having a very active sex life meant you often spoke to him about porn. What he watched, what he liked, even trying a few things together that were less than conventional. But you didn’t realise he shared porn with his friends, and didn’t realise there was any particular video he could be so invested in. Curiosity kept you quiet as you continued to eavesdrop on beomgyu’s side of the conversation.

‘Getting off and watching her get off….god imagine it….. so hot…..just because you and lia have done everything under the sun……anyway I’m going…….yes I’m going y/n will be home soon and I wanna cook for her.’

The end of his conversation warmed your heart, his thoughtfulness causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. As physical as your relationship was, he was always so romantic as well. As he hung up you reached over to lay your hand on his shoulder, scaring him in the process. You laughed as he swore, getting up to hug you once the initial shock of you being home had passed.

‘How was your day my love?’ He asked, kissing into your hair as you buried your face into his chest. ‘It was good, not as good as yours by the sound of it’ you said, pulling your face from his chest to catch the blush rising up his cheeks. ‘Were you listening to me on the phone?‘ he asked, panic lacing his voice.

‘Hmm maybe’ you replied with a smirk, his reddening cheeks making you even more amused. ‘Don’t be shy baby. This won’t work if you’re shy’ you said as you took his hand, dragging him toward the bedroom. Once in the room, you let go of his hand while he still tried to figure out what you were planning. You positioned yourself at the head of your bed, slipping your underwear from under your skirt before spreading your legs wide for him. He stood gawking at the end of the bed, unsure what to do.

‘You wanna watch me get off, right baby? Now’s your chance. Watch how good I make myself feel’ you teased him, sliding your hand between your legs as you gathered your wetness between your fingers. ‘Been feeling needy all day baby. All for you.’ Your words were punctuated with short moans as your fingers began to rub your clit, head thrown back in pleasure as beomgyu watched, in awe. ‘Gonna leave me to get off on my own or you gonna join me?’ You asked, the look in his eyes all the confirmation you needed. He hopped onto the bed opposite you, joggers around his ankles as he began pumping his member. A few strokes and he was fully hard, eyes captivated by the way your fingers moved against your clit.

Your eyes were focused on his hand, the way he desperately pumped his length, hips stuttering when he paid special attention to the tip, now red and dripping with precum.

‘Fuck y/n feels so good fuck you look so hot for me baby’ he stuttered out, hand never slowing as his eyes stayed trained on you.

‘You like this baby? Like watching me get off, my little fingers working me open.’ As you spoke you dipped your fingers into your entrance, pulling a moan from your lips as you started to finger yourself open, your pace matching with your boyfriends opposite. He could hear how wet you were, and the sound of your core coupled with your moans were almost enough to tip him over the edge. You were getting close to, your high getting closer and closer with each movement of your hands against yourself.

‘Wanna cum baby’ he said, hips shaking as he held himself back, waiting for your permission.

‘Gonna cum too baby. Wait for me ok’ you said, your neediness increasing dramatically. Desperate to cum, you curled your fingers against your walls, the guttural moan that left your lips a sign to beomgyu to cum. As you moaned, cumming over your fingers, his hand also slowed, cum covering his hand, stomach and his entire length, not to mention the sheets below the both of you that would definitely need to be changed.

Admiring his work, you moved over to plant a kiss on his lips, the both of you still panting slightly into the others mouth.

‘I fucking love you y/n. So fucking much’ he said as he rested his forehead against yours. ‘I love you too baby. Let’s clean up yeah’ you said, pulling away from the bed and heading to the bathroom. He followed you in a few minutes later, cleaning himself up before planting more soft kisses against your skin.

‘What do you wanna eat my love? Gonna cook for you ok’ he said softly, moving to kiss your lips once again before you could answer.

You spent the night with him, cuddled up while he cooked, and watching a movie while you ate, blissed out and sleepy throughout. As the movie ended you woke, the pair of you apparently sleeping through the movie. You snuggled into him further, and he eventually decided to carry you back to your room, ready to tuck you into bed before he remembered.

You needed fresh sheets.

Taglist- @jungwonseyebrowsonflick @sunghoonmybeloved @lix-freckle3 @yoswagmuffin @meuusea

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober day 15 — New Scars

Something a little different, I was playing around with styles and things. You can always tell what sort of mood I’m in when I write these things, today it was romantic XD

Warnings: mentions of injury, a little blood

Ao3 link

————————————————————

Malon never got used to Link returning to her after getting hurt.

It happened often enough that you’d think she‘d be desensitized to it by now, the blood and pain he always tried so hard to shield her from. But no matter what, the sight of her husband coming home beaten and bleeding always set her heart thudding with anxiety as she worriedly checked where he’d been injured, pulling stitches and tying bandages.

But today was the worst, she thinks.

Because today Link comes back to her with bandages over his face, sharp marks on his forehead, and missing an eye.

He’d been gone for nearly two weeks at that point, and Malon had been trying not to worry too much as she’d done the farm work, despite his assurance of “no more than a week”. She’d been on the verge of sending for someone from the castle when she finally hears the familiar whinny of her favorite horse from down the path.

Relief floods her and she turns to meet him, but she drops the pail of milk she was carrying, looking in shock at his eye wrapped messily with gauze, appearance exhausted and drained.

Then she’s running into his arms as he dismounts Epona and sweeps her into a slightly desperate kiss, his arm shaking where it wraps around her waist. His hand cups her cheek then brushes through her hair, and she breathes him in, reassuring herself of the fact that he’s here, and he came back to her again despite the injuries, despite the markings, even despite the large amount of blood on his tunic.

They eventually pull back, and she traces a slow hand along the bandages that encase the side of his head, caring distress in the motion.

Link places his hand over hers, gently drawing it to his mouth so he can press a kiss to her shaking fingers, and she feels her breath catch as she looks at the angry lines imprinted on his cheek, horribly familiar to them both.

“What happened Link?” she whispers.

He lowers his head and kisses her again, softly brushing her cheek with his thumb.

“Later,” he promises softly, voice full of a heavy exhaustion.

She doesn’t press, knowing he’ll keep his word, instead sinking further into his arms that she’d so dearly missed.

(...)

She pulls him inside after that, and orders him to sit down and rest while she grabs the supplies to fix him up.

It probably says something about his state that when she asks him to remove his shirt while she’s gone, he merely nods, and doesn’t tease her at all for the request, not so much as a wiggled eyebrow. Malon pretends like it doesn’t raise her anxiety even more, and busies herself with figuring out how many red potions they’ve got.

She comes back into the room a few minutes later to find him shirtless and half-asleep, leaning exhaustedly back on their couch.

Setting down the kit, she sits next to him, studying the injuries littering his chest. A few are hastily bandaged, but most don’t have anything covering them at all, except for smears of blood and dirt that’ve long dried. Malon pushes down the worry that’s still making her throat uncomfortably tight, and gently begins to clean and properly bandage her husband, murmuring apologies when he flinches or winces at all.

He takes one of her hands in his at some point as she works, and runs his thumb across her palm, which she belatedly realizes is shaking just a bit.

He’s come back to her in bad shape before now, broken limbs, bloody noses, a stab wound now and then. But something about these in particular, and the fact that one of his eyes— his warm, sparkling blue eyes— is possibly injured beyond repair is frightening.

He’s never been hurt so permanently before.

Malon eventually finishes with all of the bandages on his chest, the smaller injuries banished with the red potion now in his system. She looks up at his covered eye then, steeling herself to check the severity of the damage, but he beats her to it, beginning to unwind the gauze before she can so much as blink.

He carefully pulls the messy bandages off of his face, and Malon breathes in sharply at the uncovered scar.

For it is a scar. Barely messily healed, but healed, a long line cutting over Link’s eye and across most of the right side of his face. There’s some dried blood caking it though, and the full scope of the marks on his cheek and forehead only make Malon more concerned, even though she’d expected something much more gruesome awaiting her.

Link breathes out slowly, keeping his newly-scarred eye firmly closed.

“Link?” she asks quietly, questioningly, and he lowers his head, and begins to explain.

He tells her of a trap, a plot by a man obsessed with the Triforce, who somehow knew of Link’s supposed possession of Courage. Of a seemingly low number of monsters given way to an entire dungeon full to the brim, that he was unable to escape and therefore forced to fight to survive.

He hadn’t been there long before he’d run through nearly all his supplies, healing and otherwise as he’d tried to escape. And then he’d been badly injured, he said, pointing out a particularly nasty wound Malon had wrapped near his ribs. Severely enough that he’d nearly been killed as he was cornered by the hordes.

Backed into a corner and steadily bleeding out, he’d gone for his last resort.

The Fierce Deity mask.

It was his only choice, and he’d plowed through the monsters after that, clearing them with a terrifying ease and thrill. It was a bigger battle and more monsters dead at his hand than he’d experienced in years, the mask pumping him full of magic and power and he... had become drunk on it.

He couldn’t let go.

Link’s voice falters then, and Malon runs her hand soothingly against his arm, patiently waiting for him to resume.

“It was too hard to let go this time,” he says in a low voice, almost as if terrified of what would happen if he spoke louder. “The power was too much. The Deity held on to me, his power held on to me. He consumed me, and I was overwhelmed.”

He breathes out slowly, and closes his eye.

“I had it on for more than a week before I finally broke control.”

“Oh Link,” Malon whispers, clutching his hand.

He clutches it back, and they sit in silence for a couple moments, Malon trying not to think too hard about her husband’s story before speaking again.

“How did you get out?” she asks, dreading the answer.

Link takes a deep breath, seeming to calm himself with the smell of home. “I thought of you,” he says softly, and Malon felt her throat squeeze again. “I remembered you were waiting for me, not the Deity, not the husk I was quickly being drained into, and I fought back. Clawed against the power and the Deity with all I was worth, pushing him back from where he was trying to take me over.”

He cracked his right eye open just a sliver, and Malon saw a small, white glow.

“He succeeded somewhat. I was unable to break his hold all the way. Which is why when the mask wouldn’t release me, I had to... take drastic measures. This...” he gestures to his eye, “...was my doing.”

His voice trembles just a little at the end.

They both fall into an embrace again, Malon dropping the cloth she’d held as he pulls her close, and she can’t help but bury her head in his neck.

She hears his breath stutter a little and he holds her tighter, and that’s the last straw for Malon. Her throat tightens and tears threaten to escape her eyes, and she only holds onto her husband more tightly, the two clinging to each other like the world will end if they let go.

Malon catches a glimpse of the new scar on his face again as they clutch each other, and she feels worry and fear anew squeeze her throat as a tear falls down her husband’s unmarred cheek.

Somehow she knows the scar over his eye isn’t the only one he’ll keep from this incident.

[my-plastic-life]

A(nother) Feudal Fairy Tale: Behind the Scenes

Welcome to the behind the scenes footage of creating my Azone Pure Neemo Character Kagome Higurashi! To see the photo gallery, click here!

Step one: Make sure the outfit can be made. Because this will all be in vain if that can’t be done. Once again, I consulted my dear friend Elenpriv and asked if she could make a second Kagome uniform (she’d made the one for the Barbie body) for a Blythe body (Azone Pure Neemo doll bodies are identical to Blythe, or at least very close). She said yes! WOO!

Side note: Azone has made several outfits for their dolls, including a lot of sailor style school uniforms. They’re perfect - but none of them are green! There is a dark blue/navy one, a black one, I think a red one... all kinds of options, but not a green one. Dang it! LOL

Anyway, next up was finding the perfect doll candidate. I didn’t want to use one of the actual character dolls because, well, they’re already a character from another series lol. So my first step was looking at all the 1/6 scale dolls with black hair. Creating a doll without a reroot was ideal.

There were several options to choose from, but even though they had black hair, there were some other issues.

For one, Kagome’s face is more “pointed” than round. I felt this particular face/head shape was too round.

I did start with her, but the slightly smaller mouth just didn’t say Kagome to me lol, especially when I kept looking at these pictures for reference:

So on to the next candidate! This one is nice, she has a nice face shape and a wider mouth:

I like her, but... her eyes don’t go quite high enough, I don’t think. And I need a template, since I can’t draw to save my life, so I wasn’t going to remove the eyes and start from scratch. She also has a side part, and try as I might, I couldn’t get the bangs to shape properly to hide it. I kept her on the back burner just in case, though. I looked into a couple of other ones like these two:

But they both have dark brown hair, not black. And the second one has too round of a face as well.

I went back to my original choice and attempted to style the hair. Well, one thing about Azone dolls - their hair is saran. That means it doesn’t work with heat very well, and it’s hard to style (or dye, apparently). At least, that’s been my experience. Nylon hair works much better, and is much more heat-resistant.

So at this point, I figured I’d have no choice but to do a reroot. Luckily for me, I’d already done a complete reroot with Olivier Mira Armstrong. So this would be my second one!

But I still needed a doll. As I looked at option number 3 more, I absolutely loved her face. The shape was right, and she had the wider smile. All of these dolls would have the same issue of needing their eyes repainted due to how their irises are compared to Kagome, so I wasn’t even looking at that.

Well, I didn’t want to buy one of these dolls (they’re designed for collectors, so they’re not just cheap play line ones you can get off a shelf - plus they’re all from Japan, which raises the price tag) just to “tear up.” So I looked in my stash and discovered I had two of one doll, and it happened to be the one with that face! So here’s the winner:

Her hair is actually the same color as mine in real life lol. That’s super hard to find... but not with Azone! They’ve designed several with that hair color, to which I say hallelujah. I’ve seen maybe two Barbies with that hair color. Come on, Mattel, get with it!

Anyway, the first step was to make sure I could pull off the reroot. I’d repainted Kagome’s face before (plus Sango’s, which is pretty much the same except for pink eyeshadow as well), so you’d think I’d be an expert at that. (More on that later).

I cut the hair off and then used small needle nose pliers to pull out the rest. Azone doll heads, it seems, don’t have glue on the inside - the hairs were all kind of weaved together inside the head. And there was one large piece where the part was that kind of held it all together, so I was left with a larger hole than I liked when I got all the hair out. But I did use some Loc-Tite to close it, just to be safe, and it seemed to be okay.

Next I painted the scalp black to match the hair she’d be getting. Of course, I forgot to use acetone to remove the original paint, and then I forgot to seal the black paint. So during the reroot process, it kept chipping away. Oops. I’m still new at this lol. Fortunately, you can’t see any of that with the final product.

So, during this rerooting process, I kept reminding myself of how I had to go back and add more hair to Olivier a few times because I’d made it too thin. So this time I went all out, even though most rerooters say you don’t have to plug every single hole (even though the factory did)... there’s a head in here somewhere LOL.

Once I was finished with all that hair, it was time for the boil wash. It never fails - whenever I do this, loose hairs that didn’t get plugged always come out. I need to figure out a method to prevent that, as well as prevent the hair from becoming a big stringy mess during the reroot process.

Of course, I probably should have taken a batch of hair and cut it so it didn’t wind up this long because I knew I’d have to cut it anyway:

Anyway, once the boil wash was done, it was time to do the bangs. Bangs have always been tricky for me. I don’t know how I managed to give my Anastasia Steele bangs without much of an issue... but perhaps it was because I used the method in this video, which I repeated for Kagome. I got them cut into shape (and again, they have such an odd shape compared to other characters - they’re almost triangular whereas all the other girls have straight bangs), then used the method in the video to get them to lay flat. When the face was done, I used some of my Volks doll hair spray to help the bangs stay in place.

Speaking of the face, that came next (I cut the hair first to make it easier to work with, with the intention of styling it later). Another difference between Azone dolls and other dolls I’ve worked with (particularly Barbie and Disney Store) - their eyes are stickers. Maybe other dolls are too now, but these particular stickers come off very easily if you rub them with a toothpick. Which I tend to do quite often when painting doll faces/eyes because inevitably some paint will stray from the brush and go where I don’t want it.

But I did use this to my advantage because the doll I chose had eyes with lashes that were pointing outward a little too far to match Kagome’s shape. So I used my toothpick to remove them, giving the eyes a more rounded appearance.

My original goal was to just draw over the eyes already in place, essentially changing the color from light brown/gold to dark brown. Well, Azone doll eyes have large pupils and smaller irises, and the white parts are smaller yet. The Inuyasha art style is different, with a large white part going from the top to the center of the eye, surrounded by a little bit of black and an almost horseshoe shape made up of two different shades of the iris color. Yeah, I studied that a lot. :D Plus, in many instances, Kagome’s eyes don’t look perfectly round, but more oval/oblong. But I did have to work with the shape of the sculpt/eye socket of the doll, so I tried to give her the appearance of having the “taller” eyes with the shape of the iris. And then there was the fun issue of getting those eyes even and the same size! I literally painted over the entire original eye with white paint, then went back in with the blacks and browns. I did discover that watercolor pencils will color on acrylic paint, so that helped me sketch out the design and go over it with paint again. It took some time, but finally, the face was ready! Mod Podge sealer applied!

The next step was styling the hair. You’d think I’d have it down by now, but noooo. Kagome has the most complicated hair of all the Inuyasha girls, I think. Sango and Kikyo have simple hairstyles and straight bangs. Kagome has triangular shaped hair all the way around. It ends at a point in the back, as do the bangs. Sigh.

So I got the hair trimmed into the proper shape using a layering method, which made her look like she stuck her finger in a light socket in the process. :D Once I was satisfied with the shape/length, I attached the head back onto the body, which already had the uniform on. Success!

Except...

The hair looked too thick, and a few people confirmed this when I showed it to them. Yeah, I was so worried about not having to add more hair later that I actually added too much.

It was also too long at this point as well. So then I was frantically trying to figure out how to salvage the situation without completely starting over. Some people suggested using a razor to thin it out. Yeah, I think they meant a straight razor like a barber uses, because my Dollar Shave Club razor didn’t work very well...

Then someone suggested shearing scissors. I’d previously purchased a hair styling set with two types of scissors (one of which was shearing) and combs. I’d never used those scissors before, because I didn’t know how the heck they worked. So I dug them out and used a practice doll to see what they did. And they did what I needed them to! Instead of cutting the length of the hair, it just cuts pieces to thin it out.

So I took these shearing scissors to the hair and made it a lot less bulky. Then I used my curling iron (and a spray bottle to get the hair completely soaked to be safe) to help shape the hair in the back. Of course, that’s easier said than done... there’s that pointy shape at the end, but the primary view will be from the front, so I had to be wary of that as well. And I didn’t want to cut too much, either. Kagome’s hair is most often seen above the waist, about mid-back under her green collar. It’s definitely shorter than Inuyasha’s. I was afraid I’d cut it too short when I applied the curling iron, but I took some of the curl out a bit and it seems to be okay now. Whew! I really didn’t want to have to redo all that... why didn’t I just send the head off to be rerooted professionally? Because I hate the post office and don’t trust them not to lose the head, and these dolls are, again, meant for adult collectors, so they’re not cheap. No way was I risking losing it. Plus, I wanted more practice anyway, and it did save me money. A professional reroot is worth it, but for this doll, I wanted to do it all by myself (except the uniform because no way can I do that lol).

So, finally, after playing with the hair a bit, I added some of the Volks spray and mousse (used to prevent flyaway strands), and she was ready! Woo!!!

But she wasn’t done yet! She still needs her accessories. :D She’ll be sharing her backpack and bike with my Barbie size Kagome, but I wanted to give her a bow for sure and maybe even some better arrows. Well, what luck - hubby got me a 3D printer for Christmas! And I managed to find a 3D print file for Kagome’s bow, arrows, and quiver on Etsy! These were cosplay size, but the seller was able to size them down for 1/6 scale for me. (The seller has since closed her shop, so I can’t post the link here, unfortunately.) Those little arrows were super delicate, but they look better than my first batch! Well, the arrow heads do, anyway. My first batch was the perfect size all the way except the arrowheads, which I attempted to replicate out of Crayola Model Magic. And it didn’t look good lol. So now I’ll probably try to print some more heads and glue them to the Barbie ones so they look better.

But first, let’s get the Azone one done, shall we? Because these were all 3D printed, they were one solid color and needed to be painted. Well, that was easy. I’d kept notes of all the colors and color combinations I’d used for my other dolls, so I just dug those out again and got to work. I glued some thin twine around the quiver like before, as well as a strap to go over Kagome’s shoulder. The bow string is made of black thread.

(Notice how she has her finger pointing to guard her aim! See - interchangeable hands!!!)

I painted one arrow head to look like a sacred arrow. :D We attempted to print probably six or eight arrows, but some of them fell apart because they’re just so fragile. The heads survived, though, so they’ll be good experiments for the Barbie arrows lol.

So, remember how I said Azone dolls are meant to have their hands changed? Yeah, that made for some awesome posing. Kagome can actually properly hold her bow and arrows now! (Okay, the Barbie can too, but removing those hands requires heat and more muscle since they’re not designed to be removed like that.)

I’d originally planned to give Kagome a 26cm Obitsu body. The Inuyasha doll is about 30cm, so 26cm would be about right for Kagome if we’re going in terms of actual height. The Barbie is technically a bit tall, but I’m still satisfied with her. Plus she has the proper skin tone to match the Inuyasha doll. The Azone dolls have two skin tones - flesh and white. Both are much more pale than the Inuyasha doll, so she’d wind up looking more like Kikyo in the long run. Same with Obitsu bodies.

Anyway, why didn’t I go with the Obitsu body? Well, all would have been fine if the shoes had fit. :D Obitsu feet are wider/larger than Azone, despite the bodies being almost identical in height. So with her socks on, the shoes would not go on the Obitsu feet. So back to the original Azone body! But hey, she’s a “true” Azone Pure Neemo Character Series doll now - all the character dolls have either Pure Neemo Flection (this one) or Emotion (more articulation but significantly smaller/thinner) bodies, so this makes her accurate to the series. And she’s not really meant to go with the Inuyasha doll, honestly; she’s my interpretation of another doll line that I love. And many of those dolls only have character made from the series, not all of them. There are a few exceptions like K-ON! and Love! Live! Sunshine! But mostly, it’s just one character like Nezuko and Asuna.

Size comparison to the 12″ collector doll and the Barbie size Kagome I made to go with him:

So for that reason as well, I am not going to make more Azone dolls lol. Or at least, I don’t plan to... we know how that goes LOL. But for right now, I’m content with my Azone Kagome! She may not be perfect, but I’m proud of myself for doing everything completely on my own (except the uniform). It makes her even more special!

[fourtyfourcatss]

Hello! I saw that matchup trades were open, and I thought I'd offer you one on my side blog @courtofmatchups

I'd like to send one in for Twisted Wonderland for an OC if that's cool

How Saima describes themself: I like to say I'm a pretty cheerful and upbeat person. I try my best to smile through tough situations, though it can be hard sometimes. I also like to say I'm a family person, and I will do anything to protect them, and my friends. I am perfectionistic, but sadly I am a bit scatterbrained, much to the dismay of my parents and older sister. Hell, I almost burned the eggs I was making for the first time. I have been working on my organizational skills though, and I’m happy to say that I’ve come a pretty long way. I can be quite petty too. If someone wrongs me, I tell them either bad puns or horrifying facts for a period of time as revenge. I'm also good at math, so my friends come to me for help with that. Also, in almost every friend group I'm in, I somehow become a therapist friend. Lemme tell you, THAT really takes a toll on me. I also have a soft spot for unabridged fairytales (they high-key have me in a chokehold). Some more lil' factoids about me: I wear my hair in low ponytails because I don't like the feeling of hair on the back of my neck. My friends and family often told me my hands get pretty animated when I talk

Likes: Anime, drawing comics, video games, unabridged fairytales, sweets (my favourite dessert is caramel pudding) and spending time with my older sister

Dislikes: Cruelty, confrontation (I will kick butt if I need to, literally or figuratively), anyone who dares to threaten my friends or family, arrogance when it gets out of hand, black tea or coffee (I cannot drink it unless it is sweetened or if I have it with a LOT of milk)

-> for saima !

[i’ll be using both sets of pronouns for her] — hope you enjoy!

twst ✦ silver

✦ saima has captured the heart of… silver!

✦ the first meeting is embarrassing for both parties; saima is waving their hand around wildly at the courtyard while chastising ace, and at the very same moment, ruggie is rushing to get leona’s lunch to the savanaclaw dorm, and runs right into silver. he trips, and saima end up wacking his face. hard. and then, since he was in the midst of falling, he hits the ground extra hard. then grimm, who had been on saima’s shoulders panicked, and saima losing balance on the uneven grass, falls down onto silver. its not a romantic position at all….

✦ after the apologies, neither of them could really let the situation go, small as it is. there was so many people around! everyone was looking! silver feels shame at how he did not notice ruggie, or even dodge saima’s flurry of hands. it was unbefitting of someone with knightly conducts. usually, he does not get so worked up so easily, but in particular, he had always wanted to give a good impression upon malleus’ friend, and now because of his tired disposition… 🙁

✦ buuttt it all works out in the end ✨ eventually, the two of them get a moment of time together, and tie off the embarrassing first impressions to start anew a very contrasting friendship! a man with a fatigued countenance and an upbeat prefect! though, it seems that while silver still seems to doze off here and there, he can still reply and recall what saima has said even while he was in a daze! how odd..

✦ silver greatly admires saima’s values in family and the way she is viewing the world, brightened in optimism and trying their hardest! he himself can understand the amount of love and drive that is given with the meaning behind every action. the appreciation they have for one another runs deep, extremely so the more and more they learn of each other and their pasts. he can see how diligent and endearing she is as a person, trying to improve any aspect — though, he isnt too partial to horrifying facts 😨

✦ he doesnt need a therapist, meaning they dont have to exhaust that extra emotional energy. he’s extremely good at listening though, so he will definitely be someone to confide in for saima! they can tackle vulnerable situations together no problem! he’s not too good at comfort, but he will try, and saima can definitely pick themselves back up

✦ absolutely watches anime and abridged fairy tales with saima! as long as he doesn’t need to do much, he’ll definitely be an active participant (as much as he can). he isnt too good with video games or the like, so saima uses it as a bonding activity for the two of them!

✦ theyre just the sweetest, spinning cotton candy with interactions. saima definitely tones down her voice to whisper in his ears to test if silver is awake or not. it sends a pleasant shiver down his spine. but oh, he absolutely adores their voice.

[sandradoodles]

Since a couple of you said you liked process art (and since I like seeing other people’s processes), here’s a quick look at how mine comes together.

Firstly, I have a script, which for the following page looked like this:

??: Nooo! Why is this happening?!

CN: Oh no, that’s--!

CN: (jumping through the trapdoor, right onto Marinette’s bed) Marinette Dupain-Cheng!

M: (pjs, dark circles under her eyes, messy hair) Gahh!

(THUD)

I changed some things as I went, like CN calling Marinette by her full name (because in the moment I wanted to show the line between Chat Noir and Adrien was blurring.) But the script is my basic outline.

On to the actual art, this is stage one, as previously seen on my blog. I box out the panels and try to figure out roughly where the dialogue will go (I learned the hard way to do this early on.) Characters are drawn super blobby. Sometimes they look a lot worse than this (Marinette was bald for a long time on this page, I decided to spare both you and her the shame of sharing.)

Stage two! Draw and redraw and redraw. Sometimes I figure out that a pose or expression isn’t working and I just have to keep fiddling with it. I have literally spent hours on one panel before if it’s being troublesome fff. This part was especially tricky because there’s... movement... I wanted to convey the sense of urgency but also of course make it clear where he was going. I’m still learning a lot about visual storytelling, definitely a good deal of trial and error going on here.

Stage three, and then you just color it lol IT’S THAT EASY (no, this also takes me hours sometimes.) I have my limited color palette going on so coloring/shading the characters themselves is pretty basic once I’ve done it a couple times (Alya was very tricky to figure out with her darker skin tone, plaid shirt, and ombre hair; it’s a lot to do with only a few shades and lemme tell y’all I did NOT plan ahead.) The backgrounds and stuff are again a lot of trial and error. I tried to use this particular part to transition smoothly from the outdoor nighttime setting to the brighter light of Marinette’s room and I’m pretty proud of how it turned out! 

I actually add in all the dialogue right after stage one but I didn’t include it in these images because it looked distracting. The program I’m using right now is super limited re: text editing (I can’t do anything FANCY like bold or italicize, and I have to both resize and align all the text by hand.) So that’s yet again more trial and error lol. Basically my entire process can be summed up as: do it once; okay, now do it again but like... better. 

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

No Strings Attached (3)

(In Which A Thing Happens)

-----

Whatever Gaius had been anticipating, it certainly hadn’t included trying to force a door open.  The former legatus put his arm against the wood, pressing against Astrid’s strength.

“Astrid!”

“Go away!”  The door shook as Astrid started to throw her weight against it.’

“Fucking hell!”  Gaius swore.  “I just want to-”  The wood shook again.  “Astrid!  Stop it!”  The door shuddered once more in reply, and Gaius hissed through his teeth.  Rearing back, he braced himself, and then shoved forward with all his might using a shoulder.  The door flew inward, resulting in Astrid stumbling backward as Gaius barreled inside.  Huffing, the general straightened.

“Astrid.  Just give me-”  Before Gaius could continue, a blur of white rushed him.  A beringed hand flew up, and then Gaius could only see stars as Astrid’s palm connected with his left cheek.  The force of the blow nearly doubled over the ex-imperial, and he was forced to take a step back.  In front of him, Astrid was panting heavily.  Her hand was still aloft in the air, her blue eyes glittering with fury.

“...I deserved that.”  Gaius admitted, feeling his cheek beginning to throb. 

“Bastard!”  Astrid snarled.  “Get out of my room.  Now!”

“Not until we talk.”  Gaius countered.  “Now you’ve gotten your ponze of flesh in-”  The white-haired woman hissed and darted away.  Not wanting to draw more attention--or any at all if he was honest, Gaius turned to shut the door.

“Astrid!  Can we just--”  The only warning he had was the sudden draft of air against his neck.  Years of instincts took over, and Gaius spun about, sidestepping.  The crown of Astrid’s staff whistled down through the air where he’d formerly been standing.

“Astrid!”

“Hold still so I can kill you!”

“Just--stop it already!”  Gaius bellowed.  He ducked back from a particularly wild swing.  Charging forward, he crowded Astrid, getting behind her.  Now he could bear-hug her, which in turn forced Astrid to drop her staff.

“You coward!  Let me go!”  Astrid howled.  She began to kick and squirm against Gaius, whose mind raced.  He only had a few seconds, it was a miracle that a fireball hadn’t been aimed at him yet--but this was Astrid, she’d start flinging them soon enough.  He needed to distract her--

And before Gaius could completely think it through--he was acting on automatic--he seized one of Astrid’s wrists, spun her around, and kissed her.

----

She was going to kill him.  She’d kill him, figure out how to make it look like an accident, and then scold Riven for not murdering the man a decade ago.  But before Astrid could enact any part of that particular thought process, she found herself being spun around, crushed tightly to a hard chest, and her lips--

~~~

Kissing him was a bad idea kissing him was a bad idea kissing him was a bad ideas--but oh Scholar his lips tasted of the savory stew that had been served for supper, and he smelled of amber and woodsmoke--  With a low cry, Astrid wrenched herself free.

“How dare you kiss me!”  She snapped.  For a moment she swore that Marcus looked dazed.  Then his yellow eyes narrowed into slits, and Astrid watched as he lifted a hand to his lips.

“It was the only way to get you to shut up.”  He replied, his voice silk.  Astrid bristled--oh he had that smug look on his face, she was going to wipe it off him--she wanted to kiss him again, no, she wanted more than that--

~~~~~

For a moment she wasn’t old.  She wasn’t heartbroken, she wasn’t a pillar of icy silence, she wasn’t a bloodstained murderess.  She was young again, the world ahead of her--and the feel of a man pressing against and into her body, setting her nerves aflame but in a good way--

Reality crashed into Astrid like a wave of cold water.  She wasn’t young, this wasn’t some decadent villa in Garlamald, she was in Terncliff, and Marcus was--  With a shrill scream, she wrenched herself free, stumbling back and away from Gaius.  Distance, distance, she needed distance--

“Don’t you dare ever do that again!”  And echoing their first kiss-Gaius looked dazed.  But this time his hands went to his lips first, before his eyes moved to meet hers.

“Heh.  You’ve not changed one bit.”

“I have changed plenty, Black Wolf.”  Astrid ground out.  Now the look Gaius was giving her was one of annoyance.

“I wasn’t the Black Wolf then.  And--”  Now his eyes narrowed into slits, and that velvet voice turned into a growl. 

“You left.”

“I wonder why!”  Astrid countered.  “Warmongering bastard!  Did you really think a charming smile and a silver tongue would win you my favor?!”

“I don’t know, you were certainly willing to hand them over without any question!”  Gaius snapped back.  The sound that escaped Astrid was akin to a deranged tea-kettle, and Gaius could see kill-lights in her eyes.

“You...you---”

“I was hoping for us to have at least some semblance of a civilized conversation, considering that you’re stuck here for the moment.”   Never had Gaius seen sudden emotional whiplash on the level that overcame Astrid at that particular moment.

“Wait, what?”  She asked.

“Your airship.  There was an engine malfunction.  They’re working on repairing it now, but it looks like you and your partner won’t be able to leave until day after tomorrow.”  Astrid blinked once, then twice. 

Oh no.  No. No, no, no.  She couldn’t be stuck here.  Not with Gaius.  That was asking too much of her sanity.  The sound of the door opened jarred Astrid out of her panicked thoughts, and she looked up.  Gaius was standing in the doorway, his back to her.

“...By the way.”  He turned his head slightly toward her.  “I see you made the Forum.  I remember you talking about that when we were together.”  A faint smile tugged at his lips, and Astrid felt the blood rush to her cheeks, heat rising from her face.

“Congratulations on that.”  And with those words, Astrid watched the door firmly shut on Gaius’ back.  For several moments she stood there, caught between rage and pleasure at the praise...

“FUCK!”

----

No Strings Attached (1) here

No Strings Attached (2) here

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy  @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys​ @luvbadass​ @buttercup-beeee​ @navs-bhat​ @etaerealboyv​ @tryymebitch​ @mell-bell​ @fenhakwe​ @solacestyles​ @softforlukescurls​ @vicsangel​ @theimpossiblehologramtree​ @alina-exe​ @cherricola66​

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don’t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.

[startanewdream]

#15 from kissing prompts please😂😂😂 with sirius interupting them?

Hello! This prompt fit so well with Shirtless (Braless?) Lily June, that I just had to write it, so thank you so much for providing me the inspiration.

And because #15 was rather steamy, this is rated M ;)

‘You are gonna be the death of me, Evans,’ declares James, voice heavy and strangled, all of his attention occupied with kissing her neck, his hands sliding over the curve of her waist unable to decide where to focus.

Lily lets out a snort, amused (unlike him, her hands are purposefully feeling his chest under the opened buttons of his shirt, because Lily knows exactly what she wants).

‘Am I back to Evans, now?’

James could answer, something about how he only slips into her last name when he isn’t thinking clearly because he very much enjoys calling her Lily, but words are overrated. And he has much better use for his mouth, now busy with finding that particular spot under her ear that always makes her let out a soft moan.

Two weeks. They’ve been dating for a fortnight and James already knows one particular spot in Lily Evans and, by Merlin, he wants to know so many more; there are so many things he wants to share with her.

Like that night, for instance. Slug’s Club traditional Christmas party. It’s an event, and it's a big one as far as James is concerned; it’s their first formal date for all purposes, and he was intent on doing everything right, being the perfect boyfriend.

Things had been according to his plan — he’d given her flowers to celebrate it, nice winter flowers of the colour of her outfit (which he had goaded Mary into telling him); he’d trained dancing to waltz with her (Sirius had helped him as his best friend, under the chuckles of their friends); he had even managed to comb his hair so it looked moderately tamed for once.

Then everything had gone south the moment Lily had taken off her cloak when they reached Slug’s office, to reveal a sparkling blue dress that matched less the cold night and more of James’ dreams of her.

It was not that it wasn’t obvious that James was quite attracted to her; it wasn’t like it was a secret that he found her beautiful, and particularly tonight with the careful make-up on her face, that strawberry red on her lips and the smokey effect around her eyes that made the green glint dangerously.

But his attraction for her became corporeally obvious the moment she revealed her dress, a light blue, sleeveless satin dress with a v-neck, that hung loosely above the waist and clung to her hips.

He should be able to drift his eyes from her cleavage, he should ignore the swell of her breasts that the dress made sure to highlight, if not for the fact that when his gaze met hers, Lily was smirking.

Not any smirk.

That I-know-I-am-driving-you-crazy smile that James himself had used on her before they began dating.

He can respect her for choosing carefully the moment to make him prove his own poison. Merlin, he loves her for that.

A better man might resist, might pull off a fight for his pride and refuse to let her tempt him so easily, but James was never proud when it came to Lily. So he endured all the party, still relenting in the idea of being the perfect date, and the moment dessert started being served, James figured it was enough.

Lily didn’t bat an eye when he asked her if they could go back. That smirk had not left her face all party, and she didn’t even look surprised when at the moment the portrait closed behind them in the Common Room, James pushed her against the wall, his lips crashing over hers with a desperation that suggested he hadn’t seen her in weeks.

Not in those clothes, that he hadn’t seen her ever, but it’s a sight he can get used to as far as he knows.

They are alone in the Common Room, only the embers of the fireplace illuminating the room, with no expectation of anyone coming to find them. So it’s easy, embarrassingly easy, for his hand to slide the strap of her dress until the middle of her arm, only her breast holding it in place.

His lips are still over her neck, now arched to give him the best access she can, and his gaze falls to her cleavage that the dress reveals so nicely. She’s not wearing any bra and somehow this realization — though he should already know it — presses more his desire for her. He let his mouth follow the trail of the freckles she has on the shoulder until he’s kissing the top of her breast. She shudders but does not reprimand him.

He places small kisses over any exposed flesh he has access to, then he raises his hand on her waist, just enough to hold her under her breast. His thumb moves carefully, feeling the swell of her breast, and her sharp intake of breath makes him pause.

His eyes meet hers when he raises his head.

‘James,’ she calls him, breathless; her green eyes are a black pool as she stares at him, unblinking. ‘Don’t stop.’

It seems both a request and an order, but whatever it is, James will fulfill it. His hand moves away from her breast enough to finish sliding the dress strap off her arms, and then the sight of her left breast greets him, the nipple hard, up and down with her heavy breathing.

Merlin, he could stare at it forever.

But it would not be enough, so he lets his hand touch it again, feeling it, thumb over her nipple in a way that makes her moan (particular spot number two, he thinks, recording it dutifully), and then his lips replace his thumb. Her hands react immediately, burying themselves in his hair, messing it in a much more spectacular way than James could do it, and giving him a very clear instruction.

She doesn’t want him to move away.

Which suits him just fine, because he feels he won’t ever want to move away either, not with the sounds that escape from her lips as he slides his tongue over her breast, desperate to kiss everything, to taste the flavour of her skin, to immerge into the scent of her body.

A hand searches her other breast, over her dress, urging him to find some balance after all, and the other hand holds her back, dangerously close to her bum, and by Merlin he doesn’t want to stop. He frees both of his hands, trying to lift her dress, but the skirt is too tight.

‘James,’ she calls him once more, his name feeling eternal on her lips, a siren call he can’t refuse. He stops kissing her just enough to lookat her. ‘We can go upstairs.’

That made him hesitate, not because he is unsure, but because he wants it very much; his body is making it obvious how much, and by the way Lily rocks her hips carefully against the front of his body, she knows it too. He takes in her figure, lips swollen from the precious minutes they spent kissing each other, face pinkened with the heat of their movements, and then her dress, strapless on one side to reveal her breast, so tantalizing.

And still…

‘Are you sure?’

‘We don’t —’ she pauses, a flush heavier than before arising in her cheeks. ‘We can just —’

‘We’ll see,’ he agrees, his mouth covering hers while his hand helps her put the dress strap back in place.

Then she holds his hand and follows him upstairs, pausing only to take down her heels so she can walk quietly. The door of his dorm room opens without any sound; the entire room is silent, all curtains down in the beds, and James was never more grateful for this fact.

He guides Lily to his bed, careful to push the curtains around them, letting only a tiny gap for the moonlight to illuminate the bed; it’s not a full moon but it’s more than enough for him to see Lily’s face and that’s all he wants. She looks both defiant and nervous.

She lays in the bed, her gorgeous hair now out of the braid she had used for the party, all curls spreading out over his pillow. It’s a gorgeous sight and he lays on top of her, careful to sustain his weight on his arms as he bends down to kiss her again. Her hands work expertly in his shirt, finishing to open the buttons there, her nails sinking into his back. He muffles his moan into her mouth.

Now his hands can work into both of the straps of her dress, sliding them out of their arms so she is laying in the bed naked from above the waist; he feels her breasts touching his chest and this notion (Lily is his bed half-naked) sends a wave of pleasure and desire down his body, inhumanly stronger than before. He breaks their kiss desperate to feel again the taste of her skin, to let his tongue glide against her nipple, to hear the pure purr in her throat.

‘Lily,’ he moans, and she stops him, so close to her breast, that it’s almost painful.

‘Shhh,’ she remembers, a finger over his lips in warning; he answers by kissing her finger, then her wrist, raising her hand above her head. She offers him her other arm, allowing him to trap them together as he moves his free hand over her chest. Her heart is beating so fast that he can see the vein of her neck pulsing. ‘Please,’ she mouths.

He complies at once, lips covering her breast, enjoying how she arches her back as if she needs to be even more close to him. That’s a feeling he certainly shares, moving his body just enough to centre with hers, a soft groan escaping from his mouth as her hips move to match his movement.

And then he needs to stop kissing her at all, biting his lips with enough force to draw blood, because Lily’s hand are working now over his pant, one hand opening the belt and the other feeling the length of him, the one undeniable evidence of how much he wants her —

‘James?’

Sirius’ voice breaks the silence of the room, sounding louder than a bell, a call to reality in a dream James really doesn’t want to wake from at the moment.

Lily’s hands stop suddenly, still around him, her eyes open widely as they stare at each other, both wishing that Sirius was just dreaming (and James won’t even tease Padfoot for calling his name in his sleep).

‘I know you are there,’ Sirius says, voice dangerously close. ‘I heard you coming.’

No, you didn’t, James thinks.

‘Is everything okay? You came back early.’

James forces his voice out. ‘Everything’s fine, Padfoot, go back to sleep.’

‘Are you sure? Is everything all right between you and Lily?’

In another moment James would appreciate Sirius’ concern for his relationship — that he roots for more than anyone else, he knows. But now, as her hands leave his body to redress herself, embarrassment all over her face, James feels only flustered.

‘Yeah, yeah. Just let me rest.’

There is a pause. ‘Fine,’ Sirius says, evidently upset, walking back to his bed. ‘Forget that I asked.’

Now James sighs guiltily, and Lily throws him a sympathetic look. James moves, coming to rest at her side, their moment painfully broken.

‘Sorry,’ he whispers, as low as he can.

She turns to him, her hand supporting her head. ‘It’s fine. We shouldn’t really…’

He refrains from sighing unhappily. He knows Lily is right. They’ve been only dating for two weeks after all, and there is no rush for anything. They can enjoy just each other’s company, taking this slow — Merlin, he’s so stupid for not being able to control his feelings — no, his lust, so unchivalrous —

‘I mean, your friends are there,’ she adds, oblivious to his thoughts. ‘In the holidays we can find a room just for us.’

He blinks, eyes widening, heart racing desperate in his chest.

‘So you mean —’

‘Only if you want.’

In answer, he looks down, to the place where his body still makes evident how much he wants her. She lets out a giggle, that he muffles kissing her longly.

‘Holidays,’ he agrees later, breaking apart with difficulty. She watches him with fondess before sighing.

‘I should go.’

‘No, stay, please.’ He offers her his arms, which Lily accepts with a soft smile, sinking into his embrace. He caresses her back. ‘Very innocent.’

‘Hmmm. Just a while. Until Sirius sleeps.’

He agrees with his head, placing a kiss on her forehead.

‘I think he’s already sleeping, Lily,’ comes a voice from the other bed.

‘Yeah, he sleeps quick,’ adds Peter.

This time James doesn’t bother muffling Lily’s nervous giggle, joining her. Holidays, he thinks. A room just for the two of them. No noisy friends.

[nervouscupcakeinspace]

BTS FIC RECS (PART 2)

Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope

Don't Get Charmed by shikiso

When an injured omega is found on their territory, Jungkook's instincts scream danger. He is the pack's omega, they don't need another one. Jungkook is doing a good enough job by himself, protecting the den and soothing the tension off everybody's shoulders.

Why is the pack so adamant on keeping that useless omega in ?

They have Jungkook, they don't need Hoseok.

Why can't they even see his little game ? Hoseok definitely knows how to play the scared and helpless omega. But, if he manages to trick everybody, he can't trick Jungkook. He is immune to his sweet scent and sweeter eyes.

He won't fall into his trap.

Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin

Omega Drip by sugamongoose

Park Jimin is the kind of alpha who makes you coffee and asks about your day before reducing his partner to a crying, writhing mess on his organic cotton sheets. He doesn't even seem to care one bit that Jungkook is a broken omega who doesn't get wet when he's supposed to.

“Are you busy right now, alpha?” Jungkook asks, holding his breath in anticipation. He can already visualise getting on his knees for the smaller man, can imagine those soft-looking hands petting his hair in approval when he shows just how good his mouth is.

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Namjoon | RM

Every Kind of Way by Oh_Hey_Tae

And then he realizes, quite belatedly, that he’s not supposed to be shaking the hand of the barista. Because that’s weird. And uncalled for. And really, really weird.

So Jungkook draws back his arm, grips the straps of his backpack, and promptly flees the building without a word spoken. Which is fine. Sometimes you have to get out of awkward social situations and blacklist particular cafés and adjust your route to school to avoid said café and the barista with the heart shaped face and his sweet pea scented hands. It happens.

“Jungkook-ah, meet Kim Namjoon.”

And sometimes during your bi-weekly dinner one of your good friends introduces you to said barista with the terribly soft hands who also happens to be getting his masters in social work to help underprivileged youth in inner city neighborhoods. Which is fine. This is fine. Jungkook is doing just fine.

 (Or: Jungkook adores everything about Namjoon except that the man can't catch a clue.)

Here Is What I Know by Oh_Hey_Tae

There are flowers growing on Namjoon’s arm. They aren’t real flowers, of course. That would be absurd. Impossible. Ridiculous. But Namjoon spends most of his lecture on Kant watching the garden of ink bloom on his skin, beginning at his pinkie and spreading across his wrist, trickling down to his elbow, curling up and around his bicep and out of sight under the sleeve of his shirt. Irises and peonies and roses and sunflowers. The girl who’s sitting beside him is staring, and when caught, gives Namjoon a bright-eyed grin before glancing back to the board. Namjoon spots a faded smiley face inked into the skin of her thumb, what looks to be a grocery list scrawled over the back of her hand. Notes or reminders from her soulmate maybe. Soulmates. Huh. It looks like Namjoon has one of those now.

try to resist, i still want it all by exarite

At first, Namjoon doesn’t think much of him.

He looks familiar, but he’s too far away for Namjoon to really see or scent out his dynamic. He’s cute, but Namjoon's not new to cute boys either. He's far too used to handsome, and pretty, and everything in between in the industry.

But then he stands up. Namjoon's eyes catch on the swell of his belly, and every nerve in his body lights up, his mind going blank, and—

Oh, he breathes. He's pregnant.

::

Namjoon fucks a pregnant Jungkook.

just let me adore you by elle_O_moonchild *

Rockstar omega Jungkook has never let an alpha tie him down. He was independent, and happy, and had no need for a domineering knothead to mess up his career and lifestyle.

But powerful and wealthy alpha Namjoon only wants to spoil the pretty omega rotten.

or

A smitten alpha Namjoon gets a weary omega Jungkook to go on a date with him and shows him just how good they can be together…

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Seokjin | Jin

more and more and more by moonsuns

"If you haven’t had sex by the time you’re twenty, then I’ll have sex with you. That way you’ll have a guaranteed end date for your virginity.”

“Do you promise, hyung?”

"I promise."

The problem was, Seokjin never expected to be called on it.

you shouldn't give it to me (good like that) by jamaisvore

opposites in the eyes of the media, but a perfect match in each other's arms.

or: supermodel!jk x rockstar!jin

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM

Pull Me Under by Oh_Hey_Tae

It’s been two weeks. Hoseok has managed to survive two weeks of Kim Namjoon’s progressively darkening thighs and his cheek craters and his swooshy hair and that stupid laugh he does that makes him sound like a bleating sheep.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder. Stares. Slowly draws his gaze back to Hoseok. “Are we discussing the same man who tried to brush his teeth with sunscreen yesterday?”

“Ew, he did that?”

“Your voice says that’s disgusting but your face says you’re enamored.”

Hoseok presses his palms against his eyes until he sees colored spots. “Make it stop, hyung.”

  (Or: Hoseok works at a summer resort and Namjoon is the newest lifeguard. Chaos ensues.)

fall underneath by crycoby

“Is this secretly about your huge crush on Namjoon?” Jimin asks, his fingers digging into the back of Hoseok’s neck in a way that is frankly criminal. “You know that if you like him, you’re going to have to be more direct. He doesn’t like to assume things about people and… He overthinks a lot,” he finally settles on diplomatically.

Hoseok groans, half because of the pressure and half because the idea of talking about this, about any of this, about any of the gnarled mess that is the clutch of Hoseok’s emotions in the knot of his chest, gives him hives.

//

hoseok could talk about his big messy feelings about namjoon, or he could talk around them instead and just hope for the best. yeah. that sounds good.

Methods of Mutual Stress Relief by Only_A_Fangirl

Hoseok cringes, “How weird would it be if I actually asked to jerk off in here with you?”

“Very,” Namjoon answers instantly.

Hoseok nods, “You can choose the porn.”

Namjoon blinks, “Are you for real?”

lyre lyre lyre by oliviacirce

Namjoo regrets every life choice that has led her here, to the hard wooden floor of this dance studio, where she's lying on her back like a beached whale.

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Taehyung | V

the long and winding road by moonsuns

Hoseok is (basically) forced to go on vacation and leave his stressful idol life behind, at least for a little while. He wasn't expecting to find Taehyung, that's for sure. (He's glad he did, though.)

Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin

Procurement by FlyYouFools1 (WIP) *

Seokjin and Namjoon have waited decades for a little of their own. Taehyung just wants to pay for his little brother's education.

Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Taehyung | V

Dandelion Love (part of the (Not) Destined series) by almostsophie1

Taehyung is twenty-one when the word on his wrist turns ashen. The kind of love that soulmates share is forever out of reach.

(But enter one Kim Namjoon, who doesn't think the same.)

Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga

Bleeding Love by beebalm

Yoongi was already dressed and halfway to the door, nothing but a dry chuckle and a See you around when Namjoon asked for his number.

OR

It's not that Namjoon is hurt Yoongi only ever wanted him for a one night stand. And he doesn't have a crush. He just wishes they didn't have to keep seeing each other all the time.

Kim Namjoon | RM/Park Jimin

but i want it anyway by ameliabedelias *

Park Jimin’s roommate goes to study abroad for a semester. Kim Namjoon takes over the lease.

only lingering around you by moonsuns 

“I don't. I mean...this is going to sound awkward, but I’m...not really looking for a relationship right now.”

Namjoon considers, for a moment, elaborating and telling Jimin about everything with Hoseok, but there wouldn't be any point in that. And also, Namjoon is pretty sure that Jimin doesn't care about any of that anyway.

And he's right. At this, Jimin outright laughs. It isn’t a mean laugh, but Namjoon is pierced by the sound anyway. “Who said anything about a relationship, or even feelings? It’s just sex.”

Or, Namjoon and Jimin are friends with benefits.

Kim Seokjin | Jin/Min Yoongi | Suga

운명 (Fate) (part of the (Not) Destined series) by almostsophie1

Yoongi is part of that three percent population left without a soulmate word. It doesn't matter if he falls in love, because love isn't meant for people like him.

(Then he meets Seokjin.)

candy on my lips (part of the just desserts series) by moonbabie

Anonymous advice columnist and baby bi Kim Sujin meets queer club president Min Yoonji, and does the following: writes some cheesy advice columns, cuts her hair, and figures out her shit. (aka a queer romcom meets emotional constipation, self-discovery, and clueless wlw)

Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin

pull me closer in the backseat of your rover by moonsuns

Jimin had just wanted to get off. He didn't think he'd end up with a boyfriend at the end of it all.

Or, another friends with benefits AU.

Nip & Bloom by sugamongoose (WIP) *

The year is 2021, and yet traditional and oppressive views of alpha/omega relations run rampant in the Korean society. Unmated Park Jimin is placed in a government programme which pairs delinquent omegas with support mates to make them more comfortable in their submission. Jimin’s alpha for six months turns out to be Min Yoongi, a tiny music producer who wears fuzzy sweaters, and who won’t stop talking about his kitten Holly.

“You look like an omega,” Jimin blurts out. The strange alpha flashes him a smile that reveals the pink of his gums. “Is that something you prefer? I saw your file, and it said you identify as queer.” “Oh, you looked at my file just to see if I like to fuck other omegas? Knot swelling yet?”

POLY RELATIONSHIPS

OT7 - Relationship

indiscentsible by cloudyworld *

Jungkook had been a little disappointed when, after all the build-up and speculation, he'd presented as a beta. Betas are great! They play an important role in society: level-headed, big-picture thinkers, the solid foundation that holds everyone together. But that pull of instinct that comes with being an alpha or omega, the feeling of belonging... He was crushed at the thought he might never get to have that.

In a pack with three alphas and three omegas already, presenting beta was a gift; Jungkook learns to see that too.

Precious Mettle by glitterandgilt (WIP) *

Jin loved his nest. He'd built it very carefully from the ground up. Spent centuries on selecting the individuals he wanted to spend the rest of his immortal life with. He was proud of his nest and protected it with a possessive love that rivaled a dragon's guard on their trove.

Jin didn't get the chance to go through that evaluation process with his newest treasure. But he would never let it go.

Or

When Jin's blood is stolen and used to sire a new fledgling, Jin has two choices: to ignore the strands of magic binding him to his new childe, or to lay claim to another jewel for his collection. He chooses the latter and drags his entire nest into a situation none of them were anticipating.

Kim's Seven by Gobi17 (WIP) *

Jungkook, 17 year old YouTuber, is in awe of the 6 hot boys who have adopted him online.

Bangtan are a dangerous group of vigilantes who seize the opportunity to kidnap the stepson of their latest target.

Found Kin by Adaptive_Artist (WIP)

Jungkook is starving. Food doesn't make anything better, and his teeth ache like someone is hammering on them. He thought he was cursed. Turns out he's a hatchling kin, and is now the precious baby of the renowned Kim nest. He's also growing little fangs.

Huh.

love bites (series) by feraljk (WIP) 

Summary from the first fic:

newly-turned vampire jungkook still has a lot to learn, but his hyungs are there to help him. taehyung enlists yoongi and jin to teach the fledgling how to teethe and helps him discover how much of a bonding activity teething can be.

or: trans koo and tae teeth on their hyungs and also come

Isn't it lovely? (all alone) by hopefully2020

At age eighteen, all citizens are given a concentration that will determine their fields of study. A small empty square on their wrist will gain a color corresponding to their skill set. Everyone’s fear is that their square color is black, meaning they are destined for a life of crime. When Jungkook turns eighteen, he waits anxiously for his square to gain color, only to be presented with a blank square. He is shunned by his family, having to struggle through high school while trying to figure out what to do for the rest of his life. Jungkook's life gets flipped upside down on the day of his twenty-first birthday when the store he works at is robbed with Jungkook at the cash register. Fearing for his life he believes he is going to die, only to be saved by a figure in black with a mask covering his face. To make things even worse, Jungkook suddenly becomes the target of one of the largest drug syndicates, solely because of his new connection to his savior and five other men who turn out to be the biggest crime lords in Seoul. What happens then, you ask? Well, then the blank world Jungkook always saw starts to drip with black, just a little bit.

blueberry peaches (a serendipitous summer) by elle_O_moonchild (WIP)

Jungkook spends a life changing summer working at a beachside car wash and meets 6 new lovers who change his heart and life forever.

Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM 

Falling For an Alien From Amalthea 5 by Pyotr_Keats78 (WIP)

Jungkook has been in and out of the hospital for years with various medical problems. Eventually, his heart becomes so weak that no human medicine can save him. Believing he will die never having come out as trans to anyone, he gives up. That is until his brother Jimin tells him, “You have two choices, Jungah: you can stay here in this hospital and get high every day until your heart fails you, or you can go to Amalthea, grow a parasite, and live.”

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin

Mentoring on Marsa by FlyYouFools1

Jungkook comes to the planet Marsa after being promised a full scholarship to Marsa National University. When the scholarship falls through, his academic advisor gives him the number for a mentoring service for newly stranded omegas on Marsa. With rent due, no way home, and no success in finding a job, Jungkook calls the number. The organization sends him Min Yoongi, a fellow omega who's been living on Marsa for 8 years. Yoongi teaches him how to survive. Jungkook's first attempt at survival is alpha couple Jimin and Taehyung.

Features: Yoongi doing his best to teach Jungkook how to manage handsy alphas, handsy alphas (like all of them are touchy) taking liberties with omega protagonists, and my best attempt at writing problematic but entertaining sex. A lot of fluff too, actually. The alphas are fluffy as hell with the omegas, and pamper them a lot, even though their actual behavior is wrong.

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Min Yoongi | Suga

November (series) by cuttothequickk 

Summary from the first fic: 

Sometimes, Jeongguk gets so lonely he doesn't even feel alone anymore. He's practicing, and he's very good at it. Loneliness. Being alone. It's blustery cold, and the leaves are falling from the branches of trembling trees, and Jeongguk is alone in a big city, shivering without a jacket, trying desperately to keep himself warm.

There is no one, and then there is someone. Two someones. The lovely winter boys from Daegu, Taehyung and Yoongi, opposites and equals, so loving and in love.

It would be ridiculous, really, if Jeongguk didn't fall for them, too.

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga

how, or when, or from where by moonsuns

“Stop calling it my quest,” Namjoon whines, and Hoseok laughs.

“You’re the one that said it first.”

“I was drunk.”

“Well, the bad thing about going out with people, is that you can’t take back the stupid shit you said when you were drunk. Especially when they’re way less drunk than you.”

Or, after Namjoon almost dies, he decides to go on a quest to live his best life, and takes Yoongi and Hoseok along for the ride.

(* Personal favorites)

MASTERPOST FIC RECS PART 1

[ohheyitsokay]

Home

this all takes place in my poly frontier universe

pairing: triple frontier guys - Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x (f) reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: obviously a poly relationship, which includes kissing, domestic intimacy with all of them (not just with the reader, but not in-between Will and Ben because nope), mild sexual themes

summary: scenes at the beginning of making a house with five people feel like home

<<

The manicured grass is soft where it peaked around the edges of your sandals. Hands running over the grooves of they key in your pocket, you gaze around the little front yard, mind conjuring daydreams that fit on the weathered porch of the house.

Two bathrooms will be enough right? Your thoughts are running - creating and erasing images of the future, trying to squish them like magic into the home in front of you. The yard is big enough to extend the garage and for plenty of home projects…

Across the fence and a long stretch of field, a woman is hiking her skirts up, making a beeline for you. The neighbor’s house is a considerable distance away, being out in the countryside, but she must have been watching your tour from her garden with interest.

The others had left moments before, Santi promising to come back whenever you were done. After weeks of looking at houses, it became a little ritual of yours, to spend a few minutes looking around without the clutter of wonderful distractions.

“So which one of those strapping young men is your beau?” She asks conspiringly, eyes gleaming. It catches you off guard – the lack of introduction, but she seems harmless enough.

Your smile is equally mischievous, and your head tilts a hair.

“Well, which one do you think?”

The woman considers, boot tip tapping away at her grass. You replay the moments she could’ve seen, which were few, wondering if you’d leaned in any particular direction, and wait.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t got a clue,” her smile is wide, softer and more genuine than before - polite. “As long as you’re good neighbors,” she explains, “I guess I wouldn’t care if it was one or all of you next door.”

You smile, thanking her as salutations ring in your ears, watching with grateful eyes as she hikes back towards her home. Then you move, wandering through the empty rooms for long, quite minutes before you peak over the fence again. The woman had gone inside, and if you squint you can see who you think is her husband, sleeping with a dog on the porch.

In the other directions, there isn’t a house within a reasonable distance. A knot loosens in your chest, as an unexpected feeling of freedom from judging eyes blooms in its place.

When Santi comes back to pick you up, you take his hand across the console. His skin is warm, and his thumb automatically begins to gently move across your knuckles.

“I think it’s perfect, Pope.”

He looks at you curiously, minding his thoughts for a moment.

“Yeah, love?”

The sun was beginning to set, and you look at the peaceful little home in the rear view mirror, and smile.

“Yeah.”

-

“What?”

“We need to … break in every room.”

“I’m just saying -"

“Oh he’s talking about – wait are you really horny, right now?”

“There are boxes everywhere, idiot.”

You walk in carrying a single plant and a stack of pizzas and the conversation hushes.

“Ah – payment,” Frankie kisses your cheek, moving the plant by the window as Santi clears the table.

Someone makes a quip about it being Santi’s house and you wince, the utopia popping.

“We don’t get paid to move our own stuff, Catfish.” His dark hair is damp with sweat but he seems otherwise unaffected by the hours spent hauling. It was still surreal – that this is actually happening, that this unanimously became a long term desire.

He has the most money and Will has the best credit score, so they bought the house to save you all from questions. The movement isn’t lost on your Ironhead, and he rubs a soothing circle on your shoulder as he reaches for a plate. Of everyone, he was the one who most understood your anxiety – close proximity always led to arguments at first.

“You got lucky,” Benny takes the first slice, accepting a napkin for an additional piece. “You fell in love with a pretty good moving crew.”

“I think so,” you grin, trying to ignore your anxiety. He inhales the food, pulling you into his lap as he bickers with Will about whether or not more needed to get done today.

Eventually Frankie dictates that at the very least some cleaning should be started and the bedding should be unpacked for the evening. The agree with varying degrees of enthusiasm and after a handful of innuendos your loves begin to disperse, too dutiful to let work go unfinished. The bedframe practically builds itself, and a portable speaker makes Santi’s hips twitch as he floats through the half-barren rooms.

When Will rolls his eyes at Frankie’s choice of screw, you duck away, nerves thrumming.

And you wander around, fake cleaning, until you find your Benny clearing pizza plates. Even amongst boxes and bins and old blankets, he could be at a photo shoot. The evening light make his hair look like silk, and his eyes shine like he’s making you promises this very moment.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he says, drawing you into his arms as your head tilts. “We spent years in bunks and tents, and we were younger then.”

His chest was warm and you press your cheek to it, nodding. You hadn’t thought he had noticed, how anxious you’d been about the change, but you had been foolish. Even through his shirt, you can feel the thumping of his giant heart, steady as a drumbeat.

Replaying the evening in your mind, you let go of some of your worries, one by one, and he kisses the top of your head. It’s a thoughtful thing, and it never ceases to amaze you how easily he can wrap you around his finger.

“Ben?”

He makes a noise, somewhere between a hum and a grunt.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him hard. It was a kiss that says you're grateful, and a kiss that says you love him for being… him.

He accepts it eagerly, and tiredness from the day long gone ad he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. The world spins and you feel him shove something heavy off the couch before replacing it with you.

The cushions are dusty from everything but he makes space, and you stop caring as he moves on top of you.

The others would find you soon, their instincts kicking in, but you savor it. Benny, pressing into you, kissing you in the evening light.

The beginning of their conversation from earlier blooms in your mind and you grin as his lips trailed down your neck. It suddenly didn’t seem implausible that he planned this.

“Breaking in” aside, this was the first room you where you truly felt like this could be home.

-

You feel his hands gently replace yours on the zipper and you jump a little - he stands just outside the mirror reflection as you watch the skirts around your ankles. Behind you the big bed is made neatly, there’s a ridiculously large closet, and a tangle of phone chargers.

The bedroom: the place that set apart your home from others. The room that housed five individuals, a web of relationships, a miracle of mixed bodies and minds and hearts.

It looks big, behind you.

Warm, daft fingers tie the extra strings, a neat little bow hanging just between your shoulder blades. The silence is thick, weighted with adoration, but when he breaks it, it’s as if he can’t resist.

“You’re beautiful,” he moves closer, kissing your temple and drinking you in. Turning, your heart aches.

Will is in his dress uniform, crisscrossed with crisp lines and newly shined awards. His hair is lighter after the summer, and he tried to comb it neatly to one side. Compliments catch in your throat as you stare and he smiles, turning you gently so he can kiss you properly. His mouth tastes like mint and you can smell hints of his cologne lingering on his skin.

“Look at you,” you murmur, lips still brushing over his. Letting your hands wander over his face, smoothing his eyebrows, you feel almost in awe of him. Still, he flushes, pleased at your reaction.

“Thank you.”

His chuckle is warm, almost raspy as he tries to enjoy the quietness of your conversation, and he shakes his head. Really, you were sure he was thankful that he was been the only one free for your special evening.

“Thank you,” you correct him. “You didn’t have to do any of this.” The dinner, for your job.

In the mirror, he looked like diamonds and sapphires and gold. Will was like an action figure sometimes, solid and sculpted and stoic, but… he was looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

It made you blink, his eyes sliding over you, pupils just a little more blown than the lighting required - a gentle reset demanding your attention.

Looking back in the mirror for a moment, the room didn’t seem quite as big, or quite as revealing. It was comforting, how out of place the two of you looked, dressed to the nines because… this was your place. The softness surrounded by details perfectly woven into your life.

Turning, you slip your arms around his neck, gently musing his hair, and his eyebrows draw together, accepting, but confused.

And as you tuck your hand into his elbow and step into your heels, you resist the urge to thank him again.

“I like it better like this,” you admit, and he flushes again, beaming. Looking around, you realize you’re actually looking forward to coming home more than you’re excited to leave. It’s a new feeling, in this space with the four of them and it hits you, hard in your chest. Still, the man beside you is unwavering and you let the feeling consume you, knowing that you’re safe.

-

“Frankie, what is that?”

He flinches, nervousness cutting the excitement on his face.

“Rhetorical question,” Santi says, grinning at you. “He got it from a friend who was going to toss it out.”

It’s a hot tub, taking up a decent chunk of your back porch.

“If anyone can make it work like a dream, it’s Catfish.” Will’s tone is matter-of-fact, all honesty and pride.

Your sweet Francisco drops his tool and grabs your hand, his dark eyes big. “¿Cariño, por favor? From me, to you?” You can see his laptop up, replacement parts on saved tabs, and you tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He likes to have projects, needs to have somewhere to do things, fix things, create things. Maybe at one point it was because he liked the distraction, it was a … replacement coping mechanism, if you will, but it became his pride, to use his hands to improve your lives.

It doesn’t take long, two weeks at most, between his job and his loves, and his long list of honey-dos, but he does it.

“Please and thank you,” you say, and when he kisses you, slow and deep and happy, you hear cheers and high-five and you almost can’t kiss him because he’s smiling.

And it takes awhile to fill, (Will thanking the stars that the water bill is reasonable,) and even longer to heat, and then it’s ready. The boys yank on swim trunks, thanking Frankie with enthusiasm, and you watch them sink into the steaming tub with as they sigh.

You have a bathing suit, of course you do, but you pull on one of his work shirts, knowing he won’t mind the chemicals from the water making the stains blur. And you pair of shorts you caught him watching your butt in, thinking of acknowledging his hard work in your own way.

The volume of your bodies makes it overflow, hot water sloshing onto the ground, but it’s bliss. It’s big, and they shout over the bubbles, talking excitedly about the future, and your heart feels warm in your favorite way.

The others leave early, taking loud laughter with them, and it leaves you and your Catfish. You let yourself float, moving right on top of him, and his hands grab at your hips, slipping and sliding over your skin as he kisses you once, twice. Slow.

It’s late – the stars stretch, there’s a bit of a breeze, and there’s not a light on for miles.

“You like it?” his voice is raspy, quiet, intense, but almost shy. Like if you said no it would break him in two.

“Of course I do, Frankie.” He looks pleased, hand absentmindedly running under his shirt and over your side. Even with the heat of the water, his hand feels like socks warmed in the dryer some cold winter morning. Comforting, maybe a little electric.

You let out a long, happy sigh, and settle against him, content to stay with him until you’re pruny.

“I think…. This is exactly what this house needed.” He starts a little, surprised, but it’s not an exaggeration.

There was always work to do and things to change, but it was the first time you looked out, and didn’t feel a twinge of fear, that anyone was looking in. It would’ve felt vulnerable, intimate to be so exposed, but… it was perfect, because he created it for you. Confidence and pride bubble around you, and Frankie’s eyebrows dip as he smiles – understanding.

-

“Yeah.” Its simple, not too hot, not too cold. Just… right.

It feels like… tar and lava, hot and dark and thick, bubbling and sticky and you want to punch something. Or scream, or cry.

Your Pope finds you standing rigid, smudges of flour on your skin and clothes, pans and spatulas strewn.

“Are we out of sugar?” To your credit, you try to keep your voice even, but he knows you better than that.

Santi shakes his head, plucking it from the pantry and looking guilty. Your mind pauses it’s rampage, and you wince, because you should be the one making that apologetic face, not him. Hot tears bubble in your eyes and you hate it, hate that they’re coming for what feels like no reason.

“Baby,” he says, tone pleading, setting the sugar down and reaching for you. The afternoon sun makes his eyes like rich, deep pots of gold, his hair somehow both soft and statuesque.

When he pauses, the tears fall against your will, just two thick drops down your cheeks. His hand encompasses your whole jaw, thumb gentle as it rubs away the saltwater, and he looks a tad helpless.

And there’s understanding in his eyes and through the blur you think maybe it’s pity. He stands, and your heart clenches, knowing he’ll go get Will, or someone because you’re being ridiculous but… he doesn’t.

You’re saying something about how the kitchen is wrong, how it’s been building for days, you’ve been here almost a week and you can’t fucking find anything. Panic and frustration locked horns in your chest and you couldn’t breathe and all you wanted to do was make something nice –

Instead, he’s pulling out things and piling them onto the floor in categories around you. It’s almost comical the stacks he makes but he seems determined and in your confusion the tears slow to a stop.

“Santi –” he hushes you. The cupboard doors hang open, and he guides you, lifting you up and up and into his arms. It’s solid and grounding, and he’s not as tall as the others and you needed him desperately.

And slowly, you begin to put things away where it makes sense, to you, and he helps. Not once does he argue with you, not even a moment when his dark eyebrows knit together in judgement. Dutifully he cleans and places everything just where you tell him, and you can almost feel the steam rising off of you as you begin to cool.

The final pile is a mountain of cloth, aprons and oven mitts and… something you’ve never seen before. Or actually, something you had, just not in your house. A set of hand towels you’d wistfully looked at awhile ago, before talking yourself out of the purchase. You had dozens at this point and didn’t need more but…

The man seating on the floor, folding them into perfect squares, is the answer to the question your mind produces.

You feel like you’ve been hosed down from head to toe, almost cold from the absence of frustration in your blood.

Pushing the pile to the side you climb into his lap, as determined as he was, and he looks surprised. It’s silly: sitting in your lover’s lap on the kitchen floor, but it feels more real than a movie. It’s your kitchen, yours and his, in this moment.

You kiss him, slow and purposeful and –

He knows you like the back of his hand.

-

You’re sitting on the bathroom counter distracting Santi as he shaves when Benny bursts in to tell you a story.

Will trails behind him, patiently waiting for his brother to take a breathe so he can set the record straight. Absentmindedly he weaves between them to pick up a fallen hand towel, passing it to Pope to wipe the shaving cream from his jaw. They share a moment and Benny’s story stutters out. Looking up from your nails you see Frankie leaning against the doorframe, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

There’s hardly room to move – and you couldn’t have it any other way.

His eyebrows are bent as he takes in the four of you, crammed into the spare bathroom, and Ben laughs.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

for the poly frontier:

@grogusmum