#one was even making a painting inspired by it??

[justblades]

┈── ⟣ tracing their tacet marks! scar, jiyan, & aalto

notes: fluff & slight crack, reader is rover, gender neutral! reader. inspired by this tweet, not proofread.

SCAR : with feather touches, you trail the lines of the tacet mark on his neck with your thumb, drawing zig zag lines to follow its outline. his lips were sewn shut the first second, but gradually lets loose as he realizes what you were doing.

"having fun, rover?" he queries with a growing smirk carved on his lips, heterochromic eyes of solferino red and slate gray hues carefully watching yours as your vision anchors to the end of the mark on his neck.

the male then wraps his dominant hand around your wrist, much to your surprise and proceeds to inch closer, rubbing his scarred, sunken cheek on the back of your hand. the same smile still carved upon his features, a tranquil atmosphere envelops the two of you. as if you were put in a trance, his ivory colored locks ripple along the gust of the wind that blows. "i've always known you were a curious one. don't worry, you can always do whatever you'd like to me."

his tone insinuates something different from what he says, as always, he likes to dawdle around words that are more than what meets the eye. yet still, you couldn't help but indulge in a passing moment where silence runs through your system and revel in the fact that you get to do this to scar, who's always, for some reason, unpredictable at times. grateful for your status as a rover, this is a privilege you had come to appreciate in each day that elapses.

you can tell for certain this part of his doesn't receive that much attention, nor affection - evident enough from his expression. he simply closes his eyes, letting everything at the moment unfold naturally with no more unnecessary remarks to be told. "feel free to do whatever makes you happy."

JIYAN : the general gazes solemnly at the vista of infrastructures in the jinzhou city, getting lost at the view as petals of emortia brush softly back and forth on his legs. a strong, gelid wind blows upon your dewed skin, you notice how he hangs his head low, now admiring the bed of flowers where his efforts brought him - a sudden thought lighting up his mind.

he sits down on the field, one leg up and the other resting on the ground. the teal haired then calls to you, "come, sit beside me." voice laced of resolution and velvet, his tone was not of command, but an honest request. you tread towards the general's figure, his broad back and the tacet mark exposure befitting the view in front of you.

curiosity piques your mind, when suddenly, your index finger ghosts a touch on the middle of his mark. a jerk movement erupts as a bodily reflex, his lips part wide from the unanticipated gesture - tassel earrings dangling along his movement as he looks at you with a confused expression painted on his face. "apologies, that was unexpected . . ." he pauses, golden eyes anchoring from your hand to your face. "but i'd like to ask why."

a short silence with no sound but the wind blowing ensues, "your tacet mark's bigger than those i've previously seen. sorry for the unprompted touch like that." you display an apologetic smile, eyes squinted with a hint of begging for the general's mercy. he turns his attention back to jinzhou's breathtaking scenery, feeling the breeze once more with his guard let loose, at least for now.

jiyan flashes you a small smile in return, "no problem. i don't mind." he simply answers. as if you could see every glimmer of light from the city reflecting in his amber eyes, you could get lost at the imagery inside as you proceed to draw the outline of the tacet mark on his back.

a darker color in stark contrast to his fair skin, the view becomes even more beautiful: the general simply lives in the present tranquil moment, perhaps these light touches will serve as a soft reminder that it is alright to rest once a while. after all, being a general is being a bastion of hope and resolution. amidst having a solid, hard resolve, perhaps soft moments and touches will surely melt the toughest heart of depths.

AALTO : "can i touch your tacet mark?" you delve straight to the point and reach out to the side of his neck even though you haven't received an answer yet. goosebumps ride on his skin as he feels the delicate contact follow along the mark's bizarre shape. he feigns composure and turns his head to the opposite side, just so you wouldn't witness him at his vulnerable state.

although the slower you traced on the tacet mark, the more impatience gnawed at his bones and his sensitivity heightens. "w-wait! why are you doing this?" he inquires and takes a step back for a moment, one eyebrow raised, obviously confused at your actions as of late. "i was just wondering if it was sensitive." you reply and step closer to him once more, driving him to a corner where he'd find no refuge from whatever you're planning to do.

suddenly, a gust of wind leaves a silhouette in front of your eyes in a wink, the pseudo figure of him doing a heart pose with both his hands feel like he's poking fun at you. "come on, aalto, just one!" you purposely exclaim. emerging victorious the moment he comes back to the spot, he heaves a dreary sigh. "i suppose it can't be helped."

he stands still and waits for the teasing episode to come to an end. you reach out your index finger and trail your fingertip on his soft skin, paying attention to his body language all at the same to see if there could be any information you could get out of the man - even if it did not appear to be beneficial at all.

the intel broker then peers at you with a bashful look cast on his flaxen irises, feigning obliviousness but the bit lip was clearly an indicator that he's not used to this. watching his poorly stifled expressions, you could not restrain yourself anymore and a chuckle slips from the margins of your lips, "that was surprisingly entertaining." you state as a matter of fact, comical tears about to well up in your eyes.

"shall i trace your tacet mark again next time?" you ask in a rhetorical manner, heart brimming with wonder. "that'd be the last." he says bluntly and takes a swift turn around, proceeding to put on his tinted glasses as a last resort to upkeep his cool guy style.

#scar x reader #jiyan x reader #aalto x reader #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves scar #wuthering waves jiyan #wuthering waves aalto #scar #aalto #jiyan

[crystallinestars]

This was inspired by a conversation I had with an Aventurine AI. If Aventurine seems a bit OOC, I apologize. I wrote this all in one go while sleep-deprived.

Aventurine lays his head on your lap and you pet his hair and give him kisses. That’s pretty much it.

Contains: Established relationship, lots of fluff, and self-indulgence.

After returning from Penacony, Aventurine asked you to play a game of cards with him. He said he missed you and wanted to spend some quality time over a casual game.

Of course, Aventurine wouldn’t be Aventurine if a bet wasn’t involved.

“If I win, you have to give me a kiss,” he said while keeping his violet eyes trained on your face, a cat-like smile tugging at his lips. Without looking, he placed a card on the table and then waited for your move.

“A kiss?” you parrot, a bit surprised that Aventurine chose a rather simple bet this time. Usually, he liked to ask you out on long dates or get you to wear designer-brand clothing he picked out specially for you. A kiss seemed suspiciously simple by comparison.

“Yes, just a kiss. On the lips, of course,” he smirked and pointed at his lips for emphasis. “But what do you want if you win?”

You hesitated to answer, a bit self-conscious about what Aventurine would think of your request. Whether because you’ve missed him, or because the dark bags under his eyes hinted at Aventurine’s exhaustion, you just wanted to take care of him by doing something nice.

“If I win, I want you to lay your head on my lap and let me pet your hair,” you finally say, voice tinged with embarrassment.

The cat-like grin fell from Aventurine’s lips as he stared at you in wide-eyed surprise, before bursting out laughing.

“That’s the most adorable bet I’ve ever heard!” he grinned, his tired eyes lighting up with amusement. “It almost makes me want to throw the game so I can spend the evening being pampered by you.”

Your cheeks flushed from embarrassment and annoyance as Aventurine laughed at your choice for a bet. Your intentions were pure and genuine, so it hurt a little that he laughed at it.

Seeing the annoyed glare you sent his way, Aventurine quickly quieted down and tried to do damage control. “I admit, I quite like your idea. Whether I win and get a kiss, or lose and get pampered, both scenarios are a win-win in my books,” he said, his gaze warm.

“…Would you really throw the game just for some pampering?” you asked, looking at him with poorly disguised curiosity.

Aventurine only chuckled in response and leaned back in his chair, exuding an air of confidence.

“I’ll play seriously, of course. I still want that kiss, you know,” he replied with a smirk. “Let’s play and see who luck favors more.’”

The game of cards continued. While it wasn’t your first time playing with Aventurine, you sported a hefty 100% losing streak against him. The chances of that changing now were slim, you figured.

However, luck seemed to be on your side this time. You amassed some good cards, and even managed to push through tough plays where you were on the verge of losing. The game progressed unusually smoothly, and before you knew it, victory was in your hands.

“Ah, looks like I lost. Lady Luck was on your side today,” Aventurine sighed. Though he sounded disappointed, the smug smile painted across his face hinted at the opposite.

“You let me win, didn’t you?” you stated and crossed your arms, not buying his little act.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aventurine casually brushed your accusation aside as he stood from the table. “Well then, as the losing party, I must fulfill my end of the bargain,” he drawled, giving you an expectant look.

You wanted to retort and call him out on his bluff some more but thought better of it. It truly had been a while since you saw Aventurine, and you were looking forward to doing something nice for him, even if it meant accepting a rigged victory.

Conceding to his expectant gaze, you led Aventurine over to a nearby sofa and took a seat on one side. You patted your lap, and Aventurine needed no further invitation to lay across the sofa with his head resting on your thighs.

He let out a quiet purr when your fingers carded through his blond locks, gently threading through the strands. Aventurine’s hair was soft and silky—all thanks to the expensive hair products he used.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured, looking up at you with a playful glint in his eye. “It feels quite nice to be pampered like this.”

“Sure, I could do this for you every day,” you quip back, playing along.

“Really? I’ll hold you to your word, then,” Aventurine chuckled.

“It will cost you, of course.”

“Ah, you drive a hard bargain.”

The playful banter between you continued for a while longer until it petered off into a peaceful silence. Your fingers never paused in their gentle and slow strokes through his hair, and you saw Aventurine gradually relax under your touch. The weight of Aventurine’s head grew heavier in your lap as he relaxed and lowered his guard. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, basking in the tranquil moment.

The dark bags under his eyes were proof that Aventurine had not been sleeping well lately, which made you worry a bit. Your tender touches seemed to do the trick, however. Aventurine’s breathing deepened and slowed, while his expression softened into something more vulnerable and innocent as he succumbed to sleep. It was an expression you seldom witnessed, but one you knew was proof of Aventurine’s trust in you.

The sight of Aventurine so vulnerable and relaxed was simply too cute for you to resist. Overcome with a surge of affection, you tenderly brushed his bangs out of his face, before slowly leaning down and touching your lips to his in a feather-light kiss.

The blond tensed under you, and you pulled back slightly only to be met with an even more adorable sight. Aventurine looked up at you with surprise, his cheeks flushed a rosy, red hue. You had caught him unaware with that kiss and were now privy to a rare sight of him acting flustered.

You did your best to stifle the laugh that threatened to bubble out, but a snort still made it through. Aventurine’s momentary surprise turned into a sullen pout at your obvious attempts not to laugh at him.

“Sorry, you were just—so cute, you know? I couldn’t hold back—” you stammered, trying and failing to completely reign in your laughter.

Aventurine’s expression melted into something softer as he reached an arm up, placing his palm on the back of your head.

“I’m cute? The cute one here is you,” he murmured, voice almost a whisper as if he were saying it to himself. It didn’t sound like his usual playful flirting. This time, his tone was serious.

Stunned, you fall quiet and look down at the blond. Despite his serious expression, it still held a note of vulnerability and sincerity that you only saw during private moments with him.

The hand behind your head applied gentle pressure, a silent request for you to come closer to his face. However, there was no force behind it. If you wanted to, you could easily pull away and reject his wordless plea, and Aventurine would let you go. He always did.

This time, you felt like indulging him, so you complied and lowered your head until your faces were mere inches apart.

Your eyes met.

“If you want to fulfill my bet, then that kiss wasn’t nearly enough. But you’re welcome to try again, darling,” he said, voice breathy and soft. In classic Aventurine fashion, he left the decision up to you. He clearly wanted more, but he was still too hesitant to ask outright for it.

“All right. I’ll try as many times as you want until you’re satisfied,” you whisper back, before leaning in and closing the distance between your lips.

This kiss was firm yet sweet, and the first in a series of tender kisses that will leave their mark across Aventurine’s face.

Perhaps one day he’ll be comfortable with asking for what he wants from you without resorting to games of chance. For now, you will pamper your tired boyfriend and give him the affection he so desperately craves, even if it means giving him a hundred kisses every day.

#honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #I don't know what title to give this

[whoreforjisung]

Pervy Neighbor Jisung Pt.2 ✨

Content/tags/warnings: smut / jisungxfem reader / perv!jisung / reader is a little bit of a perv too / masturbation(m,f) / “noona” / mentions of other members / drug use / panty stealing / cum eating / switch!jisung / switch!reader / mutual pining

Word Count: 4.2k

a/n: Since a lot of people seemed to enjoy my first one-shot, I decided to continue the story in multiple parts! Constructive criticism as well as requests are welcome! Next part will include the house-warming party 👀

Not proofread, all characters are only used for the purpose of face-claims and do not reflect real-life actions and behaviors of people involved

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It’s been almost a month since you moved in, and Jisung has, quite frankly, run out of material. As much as he adored that picture he snapped through your window of your delectable ass presenting itself to him, there were only so many scenarios he could logistically work with- his favorite being one of the first he conjured up, with you inviting him over during a yoga session on your balcony. He was especially fond of that one.

In fact, he had already run through them all several times, and as a man with a creative inclination, he needed new imaginary canvases to paint even more indecent imagery with. He really didn’t know how he ended up in this situation. Sure, he was always a man who thought more with the head between his legs than the one atop his shoulders, but he was never one to actively display such depraved behavior- that was, until you invaded his mind. You were akin to a captivating siren luring him out to the vast depths of the sea that was his lust for you, and he wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to resist your entrancing melody.

There were a few minor complications preventing him from reaching his goals, though. The first being how the hell he would successfully obtain fresh aids for his newfound private pastime. In order to give himself more inspiration to work with, he needed to get closer to you. Normally, he would not see this as an issue at all, as he was rather confident in his physical appearance and charisma. The second- and most debilitating issue, however, lies in your surely abhorrent first impression of him. A visceral chill creeps up his spine at the mere thought of what your current opinion of him must be.

After he fucked his frustrations into his fist every night to thoughts of you, he stared at his ceiling making mental diagrams of different approaches he could take for you to nudge him over to your good side. He may have doomed himself from the first day with his thoughtless and downright rude behavior, but he was determined to rectify the misunderstanding he had perpetuated.

Luckily for Jisung, his ever-reliable mate, Felix, had already taken the first steps for him- by adding you on various social media outlets. He had been mindlessly scrolling when you stood out in the crowd of faces in his suggested friends page. It may not seem like much, but the best possible starting point had practically fallen right into his lap. He now had access to your name, interests, dislikes, music taste, and friends list- conveniently right at his fingertips to educate himself with whenever he desired. Not to mention, one mouth-watering, jaw-dropping, boner-popping display of your gorgeously-proportioned body, clad in a slutty little powder blue string bikini- just for him. It was certainly claiming it’s spot at the top the spank bank for later. He’ll have to send Felix something as a token of his appreciation for that one.

Through his frequent investigations of your treasure trove of publicly accessible information, he learned that you are, in fact, one year older than him- that was going to do wonders for his little “noona” kink. His suspicions of you being an artist were correct, much to his delight, as he’s naturally attracted to creative minds. Your taste in music also aligns surprisingly well with his own. You have more tattoos than he originally thought- which he finds incredibly hot. In your bikini pic, he spotted a dazzling silver gem nestled above your belly button- also sexy. It made him wonder if you have more piercings in places hidden under the skimpy garment- he really hoped you did. One crucial piece of information he couldn’t deduce from his research, though, was your relationship status. If you were in a relationship, it couldn’t be a happy one. There was no indication of you having a partner on any of your platforms, so he decided it was unlikely.

Now that he learned as much as he possibly could about you without direct contact, he needed to find a way to repair your skewed perception of him. He could go with his original plan of just knocking on your door, introducing himself, and apologizing, but that seemed a tad bit more risky than he was comfortable with. Since you were apparently acquainted with Felix, maybe he could convince him to act as his wingman? No, he didn’t want to come across as desperate- even if he absolutely was. Maybe Miroh? The two of you were already friends on the game thanks to him assisting you with your S-Class Dungeon victory. He could help you through the slightly more daunting Levanter or Circus stages next. And then what? Just send “hey, by the way, I’m your new neighbor.”? You would wonder how he knew who you were, and instantly be creeped out- rightfully so. He’ll still help you through more dungeons anonymously though. The intense adrenaline rush he gets from it, along with the blood that rushes straight to his junk when you cutely beg him for help- is addictive.

Your bikini pic sufficed to tide Jisung over for another week and a half, shamelessly painting your image on his phone screen white at least once, sometimes twice, or even three times a day. During this time, he strolled the market he had discovered you frequented and gained some helpful intel- you were a bit closer to Felix than he originally thought, even stopping by the various stands he often helped out with to chat or drop off food for him. A few times, Jisung thought about coming up to him while you were there to introduce himself. Ultimately, he decided it would be best for you to naturally stumble upon them hanging out together. So, he cleverly plotted to join his friend with his market volunteering for the next month or so. The first week was a bust, since you seemed to be avoiding Felix with him in the picture now. Regardless, he didn’t let it discourage him, and attentively remained loyal to his plan.

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When you told Felix about how you didn’t host a house-warming party, as you didn’t really know anyone in the area yet, he offered to throw you one to introduce you to his friends. As he got to know you better, he knew you would fit right in with his friend group. When you agreed, he gave you descriptions of his seven closest friends. You were already briefly introduced to Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, but he threw in a few more names you didn’t recognize. Among the unrecognizable names, you tried to pick out the one that could belong to your neighbor, the boy you had spotted curled up on the couch in Minho’s study. Based on his descriptions, it couldn’t have been Jeongin- the youngest of the group, or Jisung- the affectionately-dubbed “babygirl” in Felix’s words. That left you with Chris, his fellow Australian mate, and the eldest. However, his description didn’t match your neighbor either.

When you set out for the market a few days later to deliver Felix some extra sugar cookies you had baked that morning, you saw him again. He was engaged in a conversation with your friend as they appeared to be working one of the fresh fruits and vegetable stalls together. You weren’t close enough to make out what was being discussed between the two, but your attention was drawn to the brunette’s body language. You observed the two friends for a few minutes, as your neighbor cycled through a series of cutesy expressions, excited little jumps, and exaggerated hand movements directed toward Felix. You were dumbfounded by how he candidly resembled a completely different person to the one you had briefly encountered over a month ago. This guy seemed to have an energetic and charismatic personality- an immensely stark contrast to the insolent and crude introduction you were given. You decided to return home with the cookies still in hand, not quite ready to approach yet.

Later that night, you were still hung up on thoughts about your neighbor. You originally thought he really was just an asshole, but the glimpse of him you saw at Minho’s place, as well as the market, had you reconsidering. You wanted to find out more about him. If he did behave differently to you specifically, why was he so callous? You were sure his outburst was the first time you saw him, so it’s not like you did anything to personally upset him. Frustrated, you navigated towards Felix’s social media in the hopes of finding his profile to learn more about him.

To say the man had a lot of followers would be an understatement. He was clearly very popular, and you began to lose hope of finding your neighbor amongst them. You couldn’t spot him in any of the group selfies on Felix’s page either. An imaginary lightbulb illuminated itself in your head as you realized you could just text Felix, asking him to send you all of his friend’s profiles. It wouldn’t be weird, since you’d be meeting them all soon at your house-warming party anyway. While waiting for him to reply, you opened the jar perched on your nightstand, containing a handful of special gummies, popped one in your mouth, and walked to the nearby convenience store to replenish your snack supply.

On your way back home, your phone lit up with the notification of Felix’s reply as you started to feel the effects of the gummy take hold. Immediately after closing your door and kicking your shoes off, you reclined yourself on the sofa, your bag of snacks within arm’s reach, and opened your chat with Felix. Sure enough, he sent you links to seven profiles with each of their names attached. Chris was first, with his feed mostly consisting of himself on late-night walks around town, pictures of his dog, and gym selfies. You immediately noticed how fit he was, with a killer face to match, and began to wonder if all of Felix’s friends were as absurdly attractive as he was. The next profile, Minho’s, caught you off guard to say the least. There were barely any pictures of him, and the ones that were posted usually distorted his face with the most outlandish filters you could imagine. The rest of his feed was overflowing with pictures of his three adorable cats, as well as several unappetizing close-ups of what appeared to be food. You were definitely intrigued, and were looking forward to getting to know him better. The next link directed you to Changbin’s page. While you did briefly meet him in person already, you were too overwhelmed by the utter chaos unfolding in Minho’s apartment to really take in his physique. He was a total gym rat- his feed plastered with pictures showcasing his enormous muscles to prove it. What really surprised you, though, was the sheer amount of dance covers he posted featuring popular k-pop girl group songs. The man knew how to shake it, and you were pleasantly surprised by the way he didn’t lock himself into his masculine side, despite his appearance. Moving on to Hyunjin, you probably spent around an hour admiring the captivating artwork he posted. As an artist yourself, you were enamored by his abstract and romantic style. Equally as captivating, were his features. He was a fashion model, and clearly had the looks for it. You couldn’t spot a single flaw on his perfectly sculpted face.

When you returned to Felix’s links and opened the next one- Jisung’s, you immediately recognized the doe-eyed brunette in the profile picture as your neighbor. Felix had described him to you as the mood-maker of the group, with his hilarious personality and exaggeratedly cute behavior impossible to resist. You had thought Jisung was one of the least likely to be the person in question, so this discovery was very jarring. Even more so, however, was the duality he displayed with his selfies. The most recent upload featuring a cute pose- big, round eyes, puffy cheeks, and pouty lips. As you scrolled down to the next, you were met with a completely different vibe. His head was tilted back, as if he was looking down at you, with sultry siren eyes, his chain necklace dangling from perfect teeth, and the neckline of a loose-fitting white t-shirt exposing his gorgeously-tanned neck and collarbones. You scrolled back and forth between the two pictures, in absolute awe at the fact that they both displayed the same person.

As you continued scrolling, his occupation as a music producer and songwriter was revealed. He uploaded several aesthetic pictures with his own work serving as background music, and you had to admit- he definitely had talent. Each instrumental perfectly encapsulated the vibe of the picture it was paired with, and he definitely knew what he was doing from a production standpoint. The real shock came when you stumbled upon his singing and rapping videos, though. He really could do it all. He perfectly rode every beat with his flow, topping it off with impeccable enunciation. The most impressive (and admittedly attractive) aspect was his ability to effortlessly switch the tone of his voice, going from an insanely high register to a low, raspy one instantaneously. This skill clearly also carried over to his singing- his higher vocals incredibly stable, and his raspy, low tone shamefully had you feeling some type of way. You decided to blame that on the effects of the gummy.

You lingered on Jisung’s profile for longer than you would have liked to admit, especially the pictures displaying his surprisingly flirty and cocky persona. There was one picture in particular, that had your imagination running wild. His eyes were shrouded in black eyeliner, looking straight into the camera, with his lips slightly parted and his tongue protruding toward the corner of his mouth. His thumb nestled just below his bottom lip- complete with black nail polish. It gave off the vibe of him looking up at you from between your thighs, after mercilessly coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with his seemingly skilled tongue, and lazily wiping the remnants of your release off his chin.

To be honest, you’ve been attempting to ignore the persistent throbbing in your core since you first started exploring his feed, but that last picture completely abolished all resolve you were desperately clinging to. Your right hand had been absentmindedly tracing light circles up and down your thigh for the last ten minutes, slowly drawing increasingly closer to your aching heat. Your own hand became Jisung’s in your imagination when you scrolled to a photo of his, wrapped around the neck of an electric guitar. The caption read “Guitar isn’t the only thing my hands are skilled with, ladies… ;)” The little shit knew exactly what he was doing, which, was oddly attractive to you. Your hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts. With your middle finger nestled between your folds, you gasped at the contact.

Your heightened senses due to the gummy amplified the intensity of every touch, the pleasure increasing tenfold. To say you were soaked would be an understatement. The back of your hand was immediately coated with your arousal, as it sandwiched itself between your needy cunt and completely drenched panties. The lewd sounds caused by your wetness, along with the humiliation that washed over you as you realized you were still on the couch in your living room, only served to turn you on even more. As your middle finger breached your entrance, soon followed by your ring finger, you pictured Jisung’s pretty fingers slowly pumping you instead. Black fingernails becoming a clouded shade as your juices coat them, dripping over his silver rings. You wondered if you would be able to feel them as his fingers pushed in and out, or when they bumped up against your swollen clit as he curled his fingers upwards, relentlessly pounding your sweet spot. When you added his tongue into the picture- sloppily lapping anywhere his hand didn’t obstruct, occasionally dragging along your inner thighs and hungrily licking your arousal that had reached there, you let go. You couldn’t control the spasming of your legs, as well as the obscenely load moan that escaped past your lips, as you lost yourself in the most intense orgasm you have felt in ages. After a few minutes of regaining your composure, you washed up and crawled into bed. You were looking forward to getting to know Jisung better.

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The next week Jisung helped Felix at the market, you finally made your appearance. He had his back turned to the bustling foot traffic, tediously deboning a massive chunk of raw tuna when his ears (and dick) involuntarily perked up at the sound of your sweet voice. “Hey Felix! How’s it going today?” You cheerfully approached, prompting the brunette to wonder how his name would sound as it rolled off your lips. “Hey yourself! Its a little slow today, but should pick up around lunch. This is my friend Jisung I was telling you about!” The blond returned, gesturing towards him. Felix told you about him? He wondered what you had heard, and how it made you feel, but quickly shook his thoughts away before he could get lost in them. This was finally his chance to reintroduce himself, and he was not gonna fuck it up this time. He swiped his hands across the front of his apron as he turned towards you, offering what he hoped was a charming smile.

“I would give you a handshake, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want fish smell on your hands. Sorry we kinda got off on the wrong foot there, it’s great to meet you!” He mustered up his best approach as he shot you an apologetic look, nervously cradling the back of his neck with his right hand.

“Oh, no worries! Felix told me you were really nice, so I figured you were just having a bad day. It’s nice to meet you too!” you replied. It took everything in his power to not grab his friend’s stupidly-lovable face and plant a big, fat kiss on his freckle-covered cheek right then and there. The man was, quite literally, doing all of the hard work for him.

After exchanging your greetings, you moved onto the next stall on your list. Meanwhile, Jisung attempted to burn your approximate waist-to-hip ratio into his memory- for a more realistic point of view of him taking you from behind, of course. His mesmerized focus was abruptly interrupted by his friend landing a friendly smack to his ass, signaling for him to get back to work.

Later that night, he was working on a new song when his phone exploded with notifications from his group chat with his friends. Felix had sent a text notifying everyone about a house-warming party he was hosting for a friend. When his eyes swept across your name, he immediately felt himself tighten in his joggers. He had basically pavloved himself into suffering automatic erections at the slightest thought of you with the recent frequency of his jerking off. To say he was ecstatic would be an understatement as he skimmed through the rest of the messages. He was invited to your place. Of course, his friends would be there too, but actually seeing the inside of your living space, as well as being so physically close to you- would add a whole new level of realism to his sinful fantasies. His usual view of you was from the distance of his own apartment, obstructed by two windows when you weren’t on your balcony. Your appearance at the market today was the closest he’s gotten so far.

Maybe if he played his cards right, he could sneak off into your bathroom, find out what shampoo and body wash you used, and purchase the same. Adding the element of your scent to his late-night sessions could be fun. The more he thought about it, the more depravity overtook him. What if he didn’t stop there? What if he snuck into your bedroom? Found a pair of panties to shove in his pocket and later shove into his face as he climaxes, or found your toys you use to get yourself off when you should be using him.

Still seated in front of his computer, he slightly reclined the chair back as he pulled down his waistband and teased his leaking tip slowly, his mind brewing up his latest creation. He was at your party with his friends. You were distracted by replenishing snacks, Changbin and Seungmin were engaged in a heated debate while the others focused on playing a game on your TV. He took advantage of the distractions and made his move, heading towards your bathroom. He passed the door as he embarked on his real mission- to find your bedroom. After one unsuccessful attempt opening the door to reveal a storage closet, he finally found it.

Once he shut the door behind him, he allowed himself a few seconds to take in his surroundings. When his eyes locked onto the door to your closet slightly ajar, he crossed the room and opened it further. Your laundry basket sat on the floor, powder blue lace thong placed neatly on top. He picked up the garment, intending to relocate it to his pocket, but his hand moved faster than his brain, bringing it up to his face instead. Once he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent, there was no hope for him. He shifted to the edge of your bed, uncrumpling your panties and flattening them out neatly on your mattress. He quickly released his greedy cock, laying it on top of your thong as he used the pad of his thumb to apply light pressure. His hips slowly thrusted, grinding his greedy dick between the dainty lace and his calloused thumb, the contrast of textures driving him crazy. As he increased his pace, he wrapped the lace around his whole circumference and replaced the tip of his thumb with his entire hand, amplifying the pressure. The sight of his tan cock peeking through the blue lace, along with the filthiness of his actions, had him biting his bottom lip for dear life to contain his moans threatening to escape.

He did the same in real life. As his thighs started quivering, he threw his head back against the headrest of his seat. His efforts to bite back his noises failed, however, as he couldn’t contain the loud moan that forced its way through his clenched teeth when his hand grazed over a particularly sensitive spot. Feeling his orgasm approaching, he released his grip completely, twitching at the sudden loss of contact. He wasn’t going to cum yet, not when the highlight of his fantasy had yet to play out. He collected himself for a moment before engrossing himself in his scene again.

He began to panic as his hips started twitching. Soft, needy moans and incoherent mumbling rolling off of his drool-covered lips. He needed to cum, but had nothing to release into. He was so lost in his pleasure that he couldn’t stop as the sound of your door creaking open penetrated through his panting and the wet sounds of his spit and precum-coated cock. He locked eyes with your shocked expression as he blew his hot load all over your panties and bed.

“N-Noona.. I-“ you cut him off with a strong slap to his left cheek. His weak legs not able to support him as his knees buckled collapsed to the floor, the side of his face landing dangerously close to the wet spot he had created on your bed. You stood behind him, forcefully grabbing him by his hair and shoving his face directly into the mess.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you. If you’re going to be a filthy pervert, the least you can do is clean up after yourself.” You spat, further rubbing his face into his own cum. He stuck his tongue out, catching his release on it as your grip on his hair controlled him. When you heard his muffled moans you kneeled down, your face now level with his when you tugged his head upwards. “Are you seriously getting off on this you sick fuck?” You pushed him with his back now flush against the side of your bed. “Oh my god, you’re fucking hard again!” Another slap to his cheek, this time the left. You both looked down as the pain from your slap caused his length to jerk violently, a pathetic bead of precum seeping from the tip and rolling down his shaft. You caught it with your finger, bringing your digit to his mouth and shoving it in. He hungrily sucked it off, a deep moan bellowing from his chest. Withdrawing your hand from his mouth and reaching behind his head, you clutched onto the cum-soaked panties, tilted his head upwards, and shoved them in his mouth.

Jisung groaned as he twitched in his hand, shooting his release all over himself and his keyboard, dripping down between the keys. He had been putting off cleaning the damned thing for weeks, and sighed as he slumped further down in the chair. Thanks to you, he wouldn’t be able to procrastinate any longer.

#skz hard hours #skz x reader #skz han #han jisung smut #han jisung #skz smut #skz imagines #han jisung imagines #han x reader #han jisung x reader #non idol au #kpop #kpop smut #stray kids han #stray kids smut #stray kids

[bunniedolle]

soft yandere killer who've lived his entire childhood completely lacking of love, making him believe that he would be truly living the rest of his days as a heartless killer. but after meeting you, though he's still a murderer, his once dead heart now beats with life, just like how you've always brought life to your many genius artistry.

soft yandere killer who is reborn through the series of horrifying events that happened in his life and curses the very town that gave birth to him as the monster he is, the simple whisper of his name blowing shivers down anyone's spine.

he haunts the people, chasing them even inside their dreams and thoughts, leaving them anxious and restless at night wondering if they'll be the next unfortunate victim within his sadistic hands.

with his lingering presence, some can't continue living their normal lives as even the slightest movement from the shadows of their feet scares them to death. the majority decided to take action. escaping into a faraway country until their selves and their families are tucked away safely from his rotten gaze. while others remained in their homes despite the ongoing chaos.

they can only pray to the gods that they believed in, while also entrusting their faith and trust into the shoulders of their hardworking police officers and detectives.

though many residents have fled to a much safer sanctuary, there are those few who moved in and replaced the empty homes they left behind. perhaps they were too late to hear the news. but nevertheless, you were one of those people.

aspiring, yet you were also a lazy painter. unless your creative mind is inspired by something, your fingers would be even too lazy to lift up a paint brush. the exhaustion that was never there before suddenly slugging your movements.

but the moment you picked up that familiar spark that makes the gears in your head suddenly work, you never waste a moment spilling every hard work to create that masterpiece, refusing to let go of the firm grip you had around the paintbrush until your eyes find satisfactory.

and it happened on one particular night on your way home. but unfortunately, not in the same way you did in the past when you would come across a beautiful scenery.

you weren't expecting to stumble across the killer murdering one of the townspeople, the smell of iron strongly hitting your nostrils the moment their blood splattered across the cold ground. your wide eyes couldn't leave the gruesome sight, just as your whole body froze on the spot you're standing on.

but when the killer was about to turn around and see you, a witness to his heinous crimes, the freeze spell casted to your body breaks and you dashed off into a different direction, almost tripping on your wobbly legs.

you were able to get away. but that's because the killer let you ran off. you weren't fast enough to escape his vision. he caught you running away, presumably because of what you just saw. but for some reason, he didn't chase after you. he just stood there with his back facing the mangled corpse he was just toying with earlier.

it would be a lie to say if you continued living normally after that night passed. you couldn't get rid off the image of the horrified expression plastered on the victim's face as they stared at you with their lifeless eyes. it frequently appears in your slumber, turning your dreams instantly into a nightmare, keeping you awake for the rest of the night.

it came to a point where you don't even want to go to bed, fearing the scene will replay again once more in your sleep. you know to yourself that you can't continue living like this. you needed to do something.

just like how every artists paint their ideas into their canvas, you thought that if you paint that haunting memory, it will finally stop latching onto your brain like a living parasite. you would finally be able to rest.

day and night, you never stop painting, cooped up inside your little studio. the only sounds you could hear are your own breath and every stroke of your paint brush. because of how focused you are, you never realized the set of killer eyes watching you.

ever since that night, soft yandere killer have been stalking you. memorizing your routine. when he saw what you were painting, he was struck with amazement at how detailed your art is. it was even more special to his heart because it was the very night that he first saw you. the first meeting you two had inside his delusional mind. he thought you admired him, just as he's now admiring you in your natural place.

when you finally finished creating this horrible piece of art, you thought that your painting of him would stop there. it didn't. that scene still never left your head, so you continued, painting them in different ways, as if you're trying to appease a god that is dissatisfied with your offering. each painting you make, it becomes more and further disoriented from the original piece.

you started painting the killer in different situations, all in which are him murdering other people with different creative weapons. soon enough, your room is filled with his heavy presence despite him not being actually there, suffocating you.

and upon seeing the many paintings of him, soft yandere killer completely misunderstood the intentions behind your ongoing spiral to madness. you love him just as much as he loves you. and to honor the love that you're pouring into every hard work that you're putting in each masterpiece, the obsessed killer took it as a challenge to recreate every painting into his next murders to prove how much he loves you.

you two are beyond obsessed with each other. just not in the same way he thought you were.

#𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 #𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 #𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐀 #soft yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere x y/n #yandere concept #yandere x gn reader #yandere fluff #yandere drabble #yandere writing #male yandere

[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

Burn [Joel Miller]

this is my entry to Em's On Repeat Drabble Challenge by @dancingtotuyo. thank you so much for letting me be part of this and I am sorry for this took so long—life kinda got in the way—anyway, thanks for introducing me to Zach Bryan and for doing this amazing challenge.

Inspired by Burn, Burn, Burn by Zach Bryan

pairing: joel miller x reader

wordcount: 1K

warnings: none really

Joel Miller hasn’t let himself feel anything for a long while—not like this. 

For years he’s been a fortress of solitude—feelings locked away, emotions a luxury he couldn’t afford. Yet, in the midst of the chaos and the infected, moments slipped through—fragments that caught him off guard. Moments that reminded him he was still human, with a heart capable of beating.

Moments that often revolved around you.

When he met you, Joel wasn’t on a quest for companionship nor was he seeking an ally. Yet, there you were, bathed in the early spring mist—your presence painted with a brush of quiet desperation he knew all too well. Bruised and with a limp, you had asked him for help. And for some goddamn reason he couldn’t—wouldn’t—send you away.

Thus, you stayed, just long enough to recover, or so the plan went.

But plans, in times like these, are as fickle as a sudden summer breeze rustling the treetops.

Joel quickly learned that you were resourceful, observant, unassuming, and quiet on your feet, yet spectacularly precise with a rifle—a skill he discovered only days later when you came to his aid.

Since then, the two of you had faced near-death scrapes, saving each other’s lives more times than he cared to count in the short span you’ve traversed the landscapes together. This proximity, this forced closeness—it’s only natural that he finds himself curious.

It’s normal that most evenings, Joel finds himself watching you. The way the campfire light dances across your focused face, the methodical way you clean your gear. It’s calming, he finds, and scarily comforting. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t wanted it—perhaps that’s what makes it all the more dangerous.

Still, Joel can’t help it.

So, he observes and he wonders—if circumstances were different, if life had been kinder—would he have noticed someone like you? His old ideals of types and attraction have dissolved, and he hadn’t been in the company of someone for a long time, but Christ, you were beautiful.

And, Joel likes to imagine that yes, he would have noticed someone like you, would’ve asked you out, drawn you close, spun his favourite vinyls in his living room just to lure you into a dance, see if jazz sounded as good as he remembers it.

But not here. Not now.

So, Joel fights it, fights you, fights himself. Fights fights that leave him breathless—not from extortion but from the unspoken words that fill his lungs like smoke.

You don’t talk a lot, but he thinks that if he wasn’t the way he was—if he appeared less guarded, if his smiles came easier—you might share the slice of thoughts he often sees flickering behind your eyes ever so often. He knows this because he had watched you almost speak, lips parting, only to catch yourself with a fleeting glance his way a subdued smile before your eyes drop to your scuffed boots.

And he knows he isn’t an easy man to keep as a company. He had always been a man of few words, and with or without you, his silence somehow often stretches into days, creating a chasm that’s hard to bridge. He’s haunted by memories, shadows of the past that linger just out of reach but always present. Nightmares plague his sleep, and when he wakes, he’s more withdrawn, the walls around him fortified. His anger, though controlled, simmers beneath the surface, ready to flare at the slightest provocation.

Yet, despite all this, you still stay.

But there comes a night, one unlike the others, when the stars hang heavy in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the world. The campfire crackles softly, and the usual weight of silence feels different, charged with something unsaid. 

Joel sits across from you, eyes flickering between the flames and your profile, bathed in the soft light.

You look up, meeting his gaze, and for once, you don’t look away. The moment stretches, and something inside him softens, a wall beginning to crumble.

“Can you do something for me?” he asks, the words tasting foreign on his tongue.

You nod slowly, curiosity and something else—hope?—lighting your eyes.

“Talk to me,” he says, voice a low murmur, almost lost in the night’s quiet. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

You hesitate, glancing at the fire, before meeting his gaze again. “I think... I think I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

Joel’s breath hitches. The openness in your voice, the raw vulnerability, seeps into him, warming the cold recesses of his heart. He moves closer, the distance between you shrinking, the fire casting dancing shadows on his face.

“I’m not good at this,” he confesses, his voice rough. “But I want to try.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. He takes your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, as if afraid you might disappear.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The silence is no longer a barrier but a shared space, filled with the unspoken understanding that something has shifted. Joel’s thumb traces circles on the back of your hand, a soothing, grounding motion.

“I’ve been scared,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of feelin’... of losin’...”

You squeeze his hand, offering silent reassurance. “You don’t have to be scared alone,” you reply softly. “We can face it together.”

He looks at you then, and something within him clicks into place. The fortress he’s built around his heart begins to dissolve, brick by brick. He pulls you closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you hadn’t realised you’d shed.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “Please.”

Your answer is a soft whisper against his lips as you close the distance, and he allows himself to feel—fully and completely. 

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure he minded.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #tlou #pedrostories #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble

[chilling-seavey]

Fantasy. Dream. Moment. (gr63)

↳ A/N Here we have it! The final blurb from my 1.5k celebration! Thank you all for submitting your song requests or questions...and thank you so much for being a part of my little corner of the internet! Now get ready for a perfect balance of spice and angst.

↳ Inspired By: 'Moment' by Victoria Monét

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 970

↳ Warnings: NSFW undertones (no detailed description)

The shiny gold trophy that sat on the bedside table of the luxury hotel room housed a large number 1 along the base. George’s furrowed gaze focused on it, narrowing in on the meticulously carved curves of the sculpture glinting in the moonlight through the open curtains. It was the newest addition to his collection. His career was on the rise. His life, in every other aspect, felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

In moments like that, after the high of a win, the only thing to do was try to keep that feeling going for as long as possible. Usually a party, a club, never ending bottles of champagne and music loud enough to make ears ring. Instead, the silent hotel room George found himself back in housed only the faint creak of the king size bed. Hazy and elated, his body was flushed with heat that burned right down to the tips of his fingers, pressing indentations into your bare hips.

He didn’t speak; too focused on the pleasure of your body and the physical ecstasy that swirled around in his mind. This was his reward. He didn’t need anything else. Your sweet moans were a gift enough, bringing him right into the moment where time felt infinite and euphoria was tangible. That sweet, sweet high lingering in his bloodstream.

You spoke filthy words to him through the duvet clutched in your hands; words he didn’t register as his one-track mind had him all too focused on getting another finish that night. That was all he wanted. His eyes flicked back to his trophy still stained in champagne from the podium celebration: a reminder of the rise and fall of his aspirations. A win followed by the expected emptiness of loss. He was desperate to take control into his own hands.

Looking down at you bent over for him, his large hands gripped tighter to your waist, kneading the flesh of your hips as he yanked you into his rough motions. He counted himself down in his head, one count per stroke, just like the laps he had completed only hours earlier. One at a time. Fast and surely.

The fireworks that had burst across the inky sky above the night-kissed circuit upon completion of the grand prix were nothing compared to those that shone in George’s eyes. He pulled out quickly, letting his hand do the rest as lewd streaks of white landed up your back. They looked like the crisp white painted lines that framed the track he just drove. Two of his fingertips pushed up your spine between the mess like he was navigating the circuit again, gliding over the bumps of your vertebrae for a moment before sitting back on his haunches with a sigh. His eyes locked on his trophy again.

You adjusted yourself to be propped up on your forearms to look over your shoulder at him.

“You good?” you asked.

Your voice startled him slightly, as if he had already forgotten you were there. He cleared his throat and moved to lay beside you, draping an arm across his sweaty forehead, “Yeah. Good.”

Running your hand over his bare chest that was flushed with euphoria, you kept your eyes on his face for a moment as if waiting for him to say something else. When he didn’t, you patted your hand against his warm skin once and said, “I’m gonna find a towel.”

He didn’t even offer a nod, watching you get up from the bed and walk, naked, into the bathroom around the corner. The light was switched on and streaked across the carpet into the bedroom. George lolled his head to the side to look out the floor to ceiling windows of yet another luxury hotel, trying to steady the racing of his heart. He let out a breath and ruffled a hand through his hair to tame it a little, his mind going a mile a minute.

He kept glancing over to the bathroom to see when you’d return. He already felt lonely and cold.

Finally, when you walked back into the room after cleaning yourself up, you bent down to grab your underwear from the floor and started to put it on. George watched you and propped himself up on his elbows for a better view, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say without sounding like a complete idiot.

“Can you…stay the night?” he finally spoke.

Your eyes rose to his, expression unreadable but still polite, as you did your bra back up, “You only paid for two hours.”

“I’ll pay more.” he replied quickly. Almost embarrassingly quickly.

You chuckled warmly, retrieving your shirt, your pants, “I can’t.”

“Please.”

“I have the right to refuse.” you reminded him firmly, yet kind, giving him a glance as you buttoned your pants up and pulled on your blouse.

George bit the inside of his cheek, staring at you. He didn’t argue.

Once you were dressed and your purse was over your shoulder, you inquired, “The money?”

He gestured to the dresser where his wallet and phone had been tossed earlier in the night before dropping flat onto the bed again and raking his fingers through his hair. You helped yourself to the luxury leather wallet and pulled out a few bills, counting to make sure you got your payment, and then tucked them away in your purse.

When you turned back to him, his face was in his hands.

“Congratulations again.” you called out to him from across the spacious hotel room as you slipped on your heels, “You’re really living the dream.”

George didn’t answer and he didn’t watch you leave. With the click of the door behind you, he was left entirely alone once again. Just him and his trophy.

"Take away your pain, give me all of your emotions Land it like a plane on my back if you can't hold it Life is but a dream that you manifested slowly So fuck a fantasy, this your motherfuckin' moment"

#george russell x reader #george russell imagine #george russell fanfic #george russell fluff #george russell #gr63 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x oc #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 dark #f1 dark #f1 dark fic #george russell smut #f1 smut #formula 1 smut

[wineauntie]

ellen ans quinn made a room for evie that’s next to quinn’s room at the lake house and mom was so happy

EVIE’S ROOM — family is family au

For Evie’s first trip to the lake house, Quinn wanted to make her feel at home as much as possible.

This meant that three months before they were meant to go to the lake house, Quinn and Ellen began to scheme about redecoration and reallocation in order to give Evie her own space.

There were two offices in the lake house. One was big, overlooking the lake with a desk and desktop set up for meetings. The second was practically bare, mainly there to be used if someone was already using the main office. And to make the situation even more fitting, the second office was positioned just beside the master bedroom where Quinn and now, you, would reside.

To him, it was a no brainer that the second office would be turned into a bedroom for Evie.

Ellen had taken all the inspiration photos Quinn had sent her and she had singlehandedly painted and furnished the room for the little girl, even going as far as printing out photos of Quinn, Evie and you and hanging them in photo frames.

The room was bathed in purple (Evie’s favourite colour) and stocked with all the toys her heart could possibly desire. Her bed was enveloped in a white canopy beside a bookshelf filled with the books Quinn knew she loved.

You had no idea about any of this, so when Quinn led the two of you upstairs claiming he had a surprise for the both of you, you genuinely had no idea what to think.

When he’d opened the door to reveal Evie’s room, you were shocked to say the least. Your little girl had squealed and ran towards the bed and teddies surrounding it, jumping straight into the comfort with a giggle.

You blinked back your tears, your happiness peeking out like rays of sunshine.

Quinn sidled up next to you, his hand wrapping around your waist as you both watched Evie make snow angels in the covers of the bed.

“I hope it’s not too much,” he mumbled, his eyes watching Evie with a certain softness. “I just wanted her to be comfortable here.”

“Oh, Quinn,” you sighed out with a grin. You turned towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips before pulling away. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

#wineauntie #ivy talks — fif au #fif au – blurbs/thoughts #family is family universe #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fanfic #qh43 #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #Quinn hughes x single mom!reader

[bbieangel]

”𝐴𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛”

No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first time ever publishing something I wrote in english. Please be kind! English isn't my first language so I can't guarantee you won't find mistakes! Also this was inspired by the scene in Labyrinth where David Bowie sings "As the world falls down" to Sarah. The protagonist and Joel are wearing very similar outfits as the ones they used in the movie. I hope y'all like it and if you have any suggestions, let me know!

Summary: Your friends convince you to go out to a masquerade ball and, while you wander by yourself, you encounter a mysterious man; Joel Miller.

Word count: 9k (kinda long ik)

Tags: Joel is a gentleman, pinning against a wall, reader doesn't really like going out because of a previous situation, kisses, fluff, no angst or smut, lots of compliments and cute pet names.

There's no smut on this one, just trying out for fun and see what I'm more comfortable with:)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was the perfect summer night.

"C'mon! You never go out with us!" Chelsea had told you and.. she was right.

You couldn't deny it. You weren't really the type to go out. Not after that particular night.

But the way your friends insisted made your heart go softer and you finally gave in, gaining a round of cheers from them. The situation sparked a little bit of hope inside of your chest. And that spark quickly turned into a fire.

So.. you had said yes, actually excited to go out for the first time in a long while. You couldn't stop thinking about what you would wear: what do people wear to a masquerade ball anyways?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As the evening of that day came, you were deep inside of your closet, looking for something to wear. Until.. you saw it.

That dress. The one you had never worn before because you kept telling yourself that the occasion wasn't 'special enough'

But it was perfect for this night. The gown is predominantly white, with a bit of shimmering silver that catches the light just right, adding an ethereal look to it. It has beading and sprakling embellishments that made you look straight out of a fairy tale.

You sighed as you saw yourself in the mirror. Was it too much? You asked yourself. But the excitement and adrenaline rushing through your veins was enough to pull those thoughts away from you. It fit your body deliciously, your curves looked amazing in it. It was like it had been made for you. And you knew it when you saw it at the thrift store, wondering how someone could let go of such a jewel.

You put your hair up in a tight bun, a few curls coming down your face and adorning it.

And the mask, of course. A white mask, simple as that. It was a perfect match for the dress.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As soon as you saw the place you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp. It had been so well decorated, the ambiance and the music making goosebumps go through your body. Your girlfriends were enamoured by the way you looked.

"Like a porcelain doll." One had said.

"Straight out of a painting." Another one of them complimented you. You weren't sure of how to thank them enough for hyping you up that way. Your cheeks turned red as well as the tip of your nose did, making all of them laugh as they found it really adorable.

When you walked through the door you could see people staring at you, which was no surprise as you wore a magnificent dress that complimented your figure. But it wasn't really helpful as your mind had been playing tricks against you, reminding you of uneventful nights that looked a little too much like this one. Making your stomach twirl, you weren't able to have more than a drink. Anxiety always creeping behind your back, making sure to have you walking on eggshells.

But as time passed and you laughed and danced, your body and brain relaxed as you decided to actually enjoy the night. To enjoy how gorgeous you felt.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You decided that it was time to catch a break, so you told your friends and off you went into the bathroom. Obviously, you had a hard time pulling the dress to do your business but the task was completed, and you got out of the tiny room with a wide smile on your face, mask still on.

A pair of eyes caught yours. It was a man; broad shoulders, wearing a white, ruffled shirt that made his biceps stand out. Black pants that complimented his legs and had you glaring at his crouch a few times. His hair was slicked back, curls almost coming in contact with his shoulders at the base of his neck. Some gray hairs standing out. His beard and moustache were the same, and his prominent nose had you staring at him up and down.

The best part was his coat: a dark blue tailcoat adorned with some embroidery and metallic accents, something you wouldn't see often.

But his eyes.. his brown, amber eyes. It reminded you of the coffee you always took every morning, the one you couldn't live with. And from that moment, you knew you didn't want to live without his eyes either.

You were paralyzed, almost against your will. He was looking at you, too, taking in your body, your dress, your hair.. your slightly parted lips.

He smiled slightly, gesturing with a hand to follow him.

You tried to follow after him as he nodded at you. But there was too many people qnd suddenly, you were trapped in between of the crowd, all of the couples dancing together, each in their own little bubble. A sigh came out of your throat, frustrated that you had lost him. You looked around trying to find him to no avail.

When you were about to leave and look somewhere else you felt a pair of hands softly land on your shoulder, making you turn around.

It was him.

"You lost me for a minute, darlin'." He whispered close to your ear and gave you a grin. His southern accent wasn't something you were willing to ignore.

"I did, yeah.. There's a lot of people here." You managed to answer and swallowed hard.

Suddenly, the music changed into a more romantic and slow one, making you snap out of that state of pure amusement you found yourself in.

"As The World Falls Down" by David Bowie could be heard in the background.

Oh, how you loved that song.

As a little girl you couldn't keep your eyes away from the man in the television playing "the goblin king", or turn away your attention from his thick british accent, or his honey dripping voice. You always fantasized about meeting a man like that, who would give you everything. But inside you knew that it was just a silly teenage dream that wasn't going to happen.

The mysterious man grabbed your hand, taking you somewhere less crowded and gently placed his hands around your waist.

"Will you dance with me?" He asked, his voice a deep tone.

"Y-Yeah.." You mumbled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Your bodies swayed softly, your dress moving with grace as you tried to calm down your nerves and enjoy what was happening. He was wearing a blue cape around his shoulders and you couldn't help but brush your fingers softly against the velvety fabric.

"What's your name?" He asked, his grip on your waist was so gentle it made your heart flutter.

You told him your name and he repeated it. It sounded like the most precious name when it came out of his mouth.

"That's a beautiful name.." He mumbled and looked away, shyness seemed to have taken over him.

You chuckled and placed a hand on his cheek, the feel of his beard made your hand tingle.

"What's yours?" You asked in a sweet tone of voice.

"Joel."

Joel. It fitted him perfectly.

His eyes sparkled as the lights were illuminating them, making your knees feel weak when you looked into them.

He pulled you closer, breaths almost mixing. He smiled at the way your breath hitched.

"Come outside with me for a moment, yeah?" He asked and you nodded, taking his hand and going into the beautiful garden.

"Can I see you without your mask?" You asked, eager to see what he hid behind it.

"I don't mind takin' it off, sweetheart." He said and took it off with a smile. Your eyes widened and your pupils dilated at the sight.

He was even more handsome that you had imagined, wrinkles forming at the sides of his eyes when he smiled at you.

You took off your mask as well, feeling that it wasn't fair that only one of you had to take it off.

He approached you slowly, not making any sudden movement or touching you as he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"You are.. breathtaking, honey. Like a princess, straight out of a fairytale I might say." He whispered and gave you a wink, his knuckles softly brushing against your cheek. You could sense the heat going up to your neck and the apples of your cheeks, and he let out a soft chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Well.. I have to say the same about you, I–" Your words cut you short, as they weren't enough to describe him.

"You're so.. so handsome.. And captivating." You mumbled, trying to keep your composure and not give away the heat forming at your lower stomach of the way that your knees weakened.

Then your phone buzzed, startling you. It was one of your friends, wondering where you had gone to. When you explained breafly the situation in a short text, she smiled and told you to let her know if you felt uncomfortable or unsafe.

As you looked back at him, you noticed he had come closer. You gulped, your breathing shaking softly as you couldn't help but take a look at his plush lips.

You weren't much of a 'love at first sight' believer but faith had proven you different this time. You wanted to keep him in your life, even if that meant embarrassing yourself and asking for his phone number.

He approached you slowly, pinning you against the wall behind you. He placed a hand at the side of your head, on the wall behind you and tilted his own head a little, glaring at your lips occasionally.

Leaning closer, and closer, it felt torturous. You wanted him to kiss you right then and there, to stop taking his sweet time but you wouldn't ask for it.

He lifted your chin to look at him as he took in the way you looked, so flustered, cheeks tinted pink.

"Can I..?"

"Yes." You cut him off.

He chuckled and softly pressed his lips against yours, a gentle and tender kiss. You slowly brought your hands up to the back of his neck, playing with his curls in a gentle way as you kept with the pace of his kiss. But when he licked your bottom lip asking for permission, you parted your lips open and he started exploring your mouth.

You hummed at the feeling, bringing him closer and pressing your bodies together. Still, he was a gentleman, as he wasn't touching you anywhere you didn't want him to.

His hand went up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing it ever so softly which made you feel like you were melting under his touch.

He pulled away and you breathed out in hot pants, feeling your stomach twirling and heat building up in your chest just because from that kiss.

When he looked at you, you couldn't help but look away for a minute. He tilted your chin to look back at him, which made your breath hitch.

With a low chuckle, he asked:

"What? Feeling shy now that I don't have my mask?"

You could your body tingle at the way his voice sounded. Deep enough to cause a warming sensation to your core.

As you tried to answer him, nothing but incoherent sentences and mumbling came out of your mouth, making yourself even more flustered.

He took that as a chance to lean in and place a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes widened at the soft, gentle touch of his plush lips against your skin. His moustache tickling your upper lip.

"You are.. a tease."

You whispered and turned your head to peak his lips.

"Well.. can't help myself when I see such beauty in front of me, darlin'."

He winked at you and you could swear your knees were going to give up on you at any moment.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After letting your girlfriends know you were okay, you spent the rest of the night chatting with Joel. A deep connection was between the two of you, and you weren't the only one who noticed it; the way he sometimes couldn't keep up his flirty, tough man façade gave away the fact that he felt just like you. His eyes sparkling, the summer breeze brushing his hair with grace.

"I don't want this to end."

He suddenly confessed, taking your hand between his.

"I mean– I don't want this to be a one time thing. But if ya do, I won't be mad."

He spoke quietly, being the gentleman he was.

You shook your head slightly and a smile tugged at your lips.

"I don't want this to end either, Joel.."

You gave him a soft smile.

After spending some more time together, he pulled out his phone and handed it to you, where you made a contact with your number.

"I hope that date you've been talking about really happens."

You said, before saying your goodbyes.

"You have my word."

He spoke and your smile became wider, as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Joel."

You whispered with a smile and gave his hand a soft caress before turning to walk away, and enter the party again. It was like you were stuck together by glue, a strong force that begged you not to leave. If you could, you would've spent the rest of the night with him. But it was a night with your friends after all.

"Bye, sweetheart."

He mumbled before letting you go. A sense of sadness dawned on him, pressuring on his chest. His own friends quickly came after him and he smiled like nothing had happened, like something inside of him wasn't longing to be with you again. But he had to be patient, he knew that.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Back home as you laid comfortably in bed after taking off your makeup and dress, a ding was heard, coming from your phone.

You grabbed it and immediately knew who it was, even if you didn't have his number saved.

"Hey, darlin'. You awake?"

The text read. And you couldn't help but let out a squeal into your pillow, the biggest smile adorning your face beautifully.

"So, when's that date you were talking about?"

#tlou joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #the last of us au #joel miller au #my fic #Spotify

[harley-sunday]

Renaissance

Renaissance [noun]

re·​nais·​sance ˌren-ə-ˈsän(t)s  -ˈzän(t)s 

1. capitalized : the period of European history between the 14th and 17th centuries marked by a flourishing of art and literature inspired by ancient times and by the beginnings of modern science 2. often capitalized : a movement or period of great activity (as in literature, science, and the arts) 3. literal translation from French : re-birth

Summary: Charles wins the Monaco Grand Prix.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: None.

Word count: 765 (a short one, I know)

AN: You know I had to come out of retirement after Charles winning his home Grand Prix. Hope you enjoy this little drabble. Please come yell at me in the comments ♥

Part of Rituals

Charles Leclerc, in 2021, when asked if he has any race rituals: “At every start of the season, until F2, my grandmother used to take my race suits, remove one of the sponsor logos and sew a little cross instead of it. Now grandma is gone, I can’t sew and the ritual is over. I was thinking about keeping a lucky charm in my pocket but then I thought to myself: if you need an object [to feel better], then you are missing something on the mental aspect, so I let it go.”

[Angel of God, my guardian dear,]

The ritual is not over.

You can sew and the ritual is not over. 

Charles took pole today, you can sew, and the ritual is not over.

[To whom God's love commits me here,]

It’s late. It’s late and with the rest of the world asleep you are wide awake, hunched over in a chair, with the red of the Ferrari race suit draped across your legs, and the floor lamp casting a golden glow over your lone figure. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the window earlier, the scene eerily reminiscent of a renaissance painting you saw in the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Nice last year. 

Freddy is sleeping at your feet, tired after spending yet another day barking at race cars from the safety of the balcony. The gray hairs around his nose are becoming more and more prominent, a cruel reminder of his upcoming sixth birthday next month. Except for Freddy’s soft snores, the house is quiet, and it almost feels like a sanctuary. 

[Ever this day, be at my side,]

Modern Formula One suits don’t have sponsor patches, everything is printed on, and so instead of having to decide which patch to remove, you try to find a piece of thread that matches the yellow of the Ferrari logo. There’s no exact match, everything you have is a slightly different shade, and after a few minutes you give up and take out a bobbin with black thread instead. 

It’s been years since you’ve last sewn something but your muscle memory makes feeding the thread through the eye of the needle easy. You pick up the fabric and set to work, using a simple back stitch to sew a cross in the black of the Ferrari horse. No one will even know it’s there, not unless they look closely, and people hardly ever do. It only takes a couple of minutes to finish and once you’re done you run your fingers over the stitches, while you say a quiet prayer. 

Careful not to disturb Freddy, you get up then and drape the suit back over the chair, making sure it looks untouched. You leave the light on, it’s almost morning anyway, and make your way back to the bedroom. 

Charles stirs when you lay down next to him and when you settle into him you can feel him press a kiss to your forehead, “Lucie is back to sleep?” 

For a moment you’re confused, not sure what he means, but then you remember you told him you’d go check on your daughter earlier. You nod and tilt your head back so he can let his lips ghost over yours, “She is. You should be as well, chéri. You’ve got a race to win tomorrow.” 

[To light and guard, Rule and guide.]

Charles takes it all in from the top step of the podium, lets his eyes wander over the sea of people below him, the water in Port Hercule glistening in the distance. He can feel his smile growing wider when he finds his family in the cheering crowd - his mom and his brothers looking at him with watery eyes and soft smiles, and her, with their daughter perched on her hip, biting her lip to keep from crying. He wants nothing more than to hug them, hold them close, and celebrate with them, but he knows that will come later, in the quiet hours after the public celebrations, back in the sanctity of their home.

It’s time for the national anthem and so Charles takes his cap off and places his hand over his heart. When his fingers graze over what he quickly realizes is a cross, embroidered onto the Ferrari horse, he has to swallow back tears. He didn’t see it before the race, doubt anyone has, but now that he knows it’s there he never wants to race without it ever again. 

The ritual is not over and Charles Leclerc is a Monaco Grand Prix race winner.

#Charles Leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #Harley Sunday x Charles Leclerc

[starrysaturdays]

28th may fic rec!

here are some fics i really enjoyed this month in no particular order!

Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) (51K) by yrsacd

a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

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Help me (298K) by louxhazxx

Harry is innocent. Louis is not. Louis is a dom and a part of the BDSM community. Harry is not.

When Harry meets Louis and finds out about his lifestyle he wants him to teach him everything. Louis is hesitant at first, but what happens when he eventually agrees and they start a special kind of BDSM relationship without a contract? Will everything go well, or will there be complications?

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a crown of heartache (70K) by WordsInBloom28

The Royal Tail: an alpha den, a strip club, a place where secrets are concealed and consent is medicated. It’s also the place Harry has been trapped for the last three years.

Through luck or fate, Harry finds his way to Louis, a kind alpha who offers safety and comfort. After being freed from the confines of the den, Harry struggles to shake the darkness from his past.

He has a choice to make. Live in a mental prison of his own making or find the strength within himself to face his demons head on with Louis at his side.

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Could Be A Catastrophe (29K) by hazzahtomlinson | @itsnotreal

Louis is one of the two veterinarians in town and somehow gets lucky enough for Harry’s three cats to be his clients.

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giving you all you want and more (giving you every piece of me) (2.5K) by lousdelicatepointofview (starryhaze) | @starryhaze28

“Wanna feel pretty.” Harry whispers, looking up at the ceiling. His face is painted in a soft yellow hue that’s coming from the fairy lights Louis has hung all over his loft. His features look soft, cherubic even.

He’s so young, so young and broken and Louis always patches him up but never fixes him.

“You are my love.” Louis replies his finger tracing over the right laurel tattoo. And Louis knows by the way Harry grimaces that he doesn’t believe him.

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Together unfold (71K) by marcythesassykitten | @marcythesassykitten

the one where Louis is determined to be insecure and stubbornly lonely forever, until Harry comes along to mess up that particular plan.

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Written In The Stars? (50K) by unscattered_horizons

Niall is a writer. Well, technically he's a bar tender who's working towards the day when he pays the bills with his poetry. But for now, he works late and writes in the afternoon before his shifts, and shares a flat with his friend, Shawn. They were strangers before they lived together, but now they're inseparable.

His other friends from uni don't live far, and Louis and H have a kid now. Niall's in no rush to follow in their footsteps. He's happy with his life.

But he has a side job writing horoscopes for an online magazine, because London is expensive and he needs the cash. Niall may not realise it, but some of the horoscopes reveal more about his heart than he's ready to acknowledge. Niall's side gig might prove to be a catalyst for an entirely new life, one he didn't even know he wanted until it was staring right back at him, waiting for him to take a chance and trust his instincts.

OR

What I've been calling the horoscope fic. Inspired by a Tumblr post

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Maybe It's Heaven (81K) by therogueskimo | @bravetemptation

When Harry Styles finds himself forced to go home for Christmas, the last thing he expects is to fall in love.

But then he meets Louis Tomlinson … again.

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May You Enjoy Your New Life (264K) by aimmyarrowshigh

It begins for them all at the bungalow –

'Alright, time to lay out the cards. We’re in this together and hopefully, for the long haul, yeah? So I think – you know, we should just be honest. It’s deal-breakers time. That thing that like, if we’re gonna hate you or something, just tell us all now.'

When One Direction begins, Harry Styles is a sixteen-year-old boy foundering under the pressure of impending fatherhood. His ability to balance the sobering responsibility of caring for his tiny daughter, Millie, and the exhilaration of seeing his own dreams coming to fruition affects not only his future, but those of Liam, Zayn, Niall, and Louis, who never expected fealty to be the key to their success. But Liam is the first to show him how to grow up without growing old, and Zayn is the first to defend from the public what is private and precious. Louis -- Louis is the first for a lot of things; for most of the moments of Millie's life and for the moments of Harry's that matter. And Niall is the first to toast when Millie is born: Go maire sibh bhur saol nua -- 'may you enjoy your new life.'

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Allegiance to your burning heart (82K) by driveinbingo | @joekavaliers

“Have you written any more new songs?”

“I have, yeah. Lately they’re just…coming out of me.”

“Are there any more about me?”

He places a hand on the back of Louis’s neck, carding his fingers through the hair there. It’s getting long again, almost the length it was when Harry left. “They’re all about you.”

*

In the ten years since he last saw his ex-boyfriend, Harry has become very rich and very famous and everything's just great, thank you very much. He definitely doesn't even think about Louis anymore. And he's certainly not going to let a ghost from his past haunt him as he embarks on the biggest tour of his career.

Except Louis always did find a way to crawl underneath his skin, didn't he?

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Secrets in Winter (82K)by softfonds | @softfonds

If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

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the very last drops of an ink pen (47K) by staybeautiful | @harruandlou

 just after midnight on Harry's 30th birthday, he realizes he can't do another year without change. So, he forces it. Breaking up with Louis might have hurt less if they weren't co-owners of Studio 28, living within walking distance of each other, and if he wasn't the thing Harry was most afraid of losing. Secluding themselves on their shared estate in an attempt to save their working relationship may shed a light on where everything else started going wrong. And perhaps give them a chance to fix it.

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Give Me Truths (110K) by iwillpaintasongforlou (The Rainbow Cookie series) | @canonlarry

the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

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I Like to Watch (9K) by larry_hiatus | @larry-hiatus

If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.

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If you made it this far, here are some stats and a cupcake!

I read 37 fics and a total of 1,657,404 words (yes thats a lot but i love reading and also a fast reader)

×͜× 🧁🌼

#28th appreciation #fic rec #larry

[sadesluvr]

Hobie Brown x Artist! Reader (GN!)

Disclaimer: I am not glamourising the 70’s, however punk + politics were at its most popular back then, and those are relevant to Hobie’s character! You can imagine any reality you’d like, this is mainly for aesthetics :)

Hobie and Artist! Reader who’ve been so close, but so far. The art, music, and punk communities are bonded, but you’ve somehow never met each other. 

Artist! Reader who meets Hobie at a protest. You’re there to support and capture the scenes of those fighting, and you immediately recognise him from his modelling days – his face previously in a niche fashion magazine. 

Hobie and Artist! Reader who barely realise they’re spending time together, all because Hobie is so chill — “Me and the mandem [gang] are going to the pub after, you coming?” Turns into  “There’s a nice spot by the canal, you know? You get lots of people there. Might be nice for your drawings, init?” 

Hobie who’s in love with his partners self expression. The first time he sees your studio he spends all night asking you about each and every piece; your inspiration, your process - all of it. 

Hobie and Artist! Reader who take Polaroids together – cute, funny, scandalous, candid — they’re hung and plastered all around your studio, and one day they’ll be published as an album. 

Hobie and Artist! Reader who depict each-other – paint, charcoal, clay, all of it. He cares in the power of art, and even if he isn’t good at it, it’s a way of bonding with you. 

Hobie! Who gets you to doodle on him. If it’s on his skin, he’s getting it as a tattoo. If it’s on his jacket, he’s wearing it everywhere, no matter how small or ‘out of place’ it looks. “Yeah, my ting did that. They’re talented, init?” 

Hobie! Who uses your studio as a second home, always leaving his guitars or jackets somewhere on your easels. 

Hobie and Artist!Reader who travel together, for his band or to support political causes.  

Hobie who has a bad habit of using your tools as makeshift drumming sticks. 

Hobie and Artist!Reader who spends most of their moments alone in their studio, or Hobie’s canal boat. He always prefers your studio because it’s bigger, but the right size to still feel cozy. You stay up and talk about everything, from his modelling days to the time he killed a cop. It’s usually light, small things though, like the story of when he got his piercing or why he likes a particular musician — either way, it’s peaceful. 

Hobie and Artist!Reader who cuddle on the couch, his long limbs wrapped around your own as you make out – or fall asleep – to whatever vinyl is in the record player. 

Hobie who uses your studio as the place to get high, evenings usually ending with red, hazy eyes and the munchies. He’s more than happy if you don’t like this, though. 

Hobie and Artist!Reader who have definitely had sex in the studio, half-dried bits of paint on their clothes and skin from rolling about… 

I plan to write more Hobie stuff so stay tuned! 🫶🏽

dividers by @chachachannah ! 🍄‍🟫

#Spotify #florence writes!! #ya’ll are very much giving ‘we saw you from across the room and dig your vibe’ #i had so many other songs it was hard to chose one!! #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown imagine #astv headcanons #astv x reader #spiderpunk x reader #hobie brown x black!reader

[multiplicity-positivity]

Here’s some positivity for plural artists and creators!

Plural artists and creators, you are a wonderful, integral, and cherished part of the plural community. We so value your presence here, and we hope that your artistic endeavors bring your whole system comfort, joy, and fulfillment! Regardless of what kind of art you make, how long you have been creating, how popular your art is, or how skilled you are at making art, you belong here and your works are worth discussing, uplifting, and celebrating! Plural artists, this one’s for you!

🎨 Shoutout to systems who have just started making art, are beginners, or have yet to see many improvements in their art!

🖌 Shoutout to systems whose art styles vary between headmates, and to systems who share a collective art style!

🖼 Shoutout to systems who draw, paint, color, collage, sculpt, or make digital art! Your art makes the world a better place!

🖋 Shoutout to systems who are poets, novelists, essayists, or writers by other means! Writing is art and you are an artist!

🎨 Shoutout to systems who experiment with different mediums and forms of artistic expression!

🖌 Shoutout to systems who are makeup artists, have lots of tattoos, are fashion-focused or otherwise use their body to express themselves with how they look!

🖼 Shoutout to systems who often feel self-conscious or insecure about their art! Keep on making art for you, we know it will turn out beautifully!

🖋 Shoutout to systems who love to create art for and of their headmates, or who love to collaborate with their headmates on art pieces!

🎨 Shoutout to systems who use art to cope with trauma, mental illness, grief, conflict, or other heavy things!

🖌 Shoutout to systems who are interested in making art for the first time! You can do it, we believe in you!

🖼 Shoutout to systems who want to make more art, but struggle to do so due to disabilities or chronic illness! You are allowed to take your time and create what feels comfortable for you on your own terms!

🖋 Shoutout to systems who have been creating for as long as they can remember! Your artistic endeavors are always worth sharing and celebrating!

🎨 Shoutout to systems who have found purpose, belonging, meaning, and a zest for life through art!

🖌 Shoutout to systems who feel lost and confused about their art, but keep creating and making art anyway!

To all plural artists out there, we want to encourage, support, and uplift you however we can! We hope that you can find lots of inspiration in your own system and the plural community. Know that you don’t have to be the very best at what you do in order to consider yourself an artist and for the art that you make to be worthwhile. Your system’s creations are wonderful and uniquely y’all’s, and we are so grateful to share our spaces with artists like you!

We truly wish that your system will continue to create, even when it’s hard or slow going! Whether you’ve been making art for one week or many decades, please know that your creativity is unmatched and there is not artist out there who is quite like you or your system! We hope that you can find inspiration, motivation, energy, and resources to make all the art you want to make, and we’re wishing you the very best with your future artistic endeavors!

#plurality #pluralgang #multiplicity #actuallyplural #system positivity #plural positivity #plural pride #system pride #plural artist #plural art #system art #system artist

[goron-king-darunia]

TRANS RIGHTS!

(Medibang, Watercolor brush, 50 minutes, controlled pallet of 18 colors. Riffing off the "colorblind art challenge.") Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door finally confirmed Vivian is Trans in the English rerelease and transphobes can die mad about it. I've been scrolling Youtube shorts in my free time between meatspace tasks and Stardew Valley. I'm months behind here on Tumblr. But I wanted to pop back in with a doodle inspired by those "colorblind" art challenges you sometimes see where the basic idea is to turn your screen to black and white and paint based on values instead of colors so you get really interesting results. I have never been adventurous with color and usually just pick the main color, then start with a darker value, paint the main value on top of that, and then add a lighter value for highlights. So what I did instead was I painted Vivian's shape and blocked her in with the main colors and picked a trans-flag inspired color palette to choose from, then switched the monitor to black and white and used the values of the colors I picked to inform my shadows and highlights. She came out better than anticipated. I love how the colors on her body make her look sort of jelly-like. I think the shadow people would have that kind of texture, even though they're pretty matte in canon. It's a bit early for Pride, but y'all deserve her. I know it's mostly rainbow capitalism, but Nintendo of America said "Trans Rights" and that's still important. I have always loved Vivian and I'm glad she gets to represent the trans community in one of the best Mario games. Enjoy my doodle!

#vivian ttyd #vivian paper mario #Vivian #Paper Mario TTYD #Paper Mario The Thousand Year Door #Trans Rights #trans #I love her your honor #art #my art #art by GKD

[watcheraurora]

A Life UnRemembered

Author's Note: Hermitcraft is... unique 1.7k words

Based on all the art of character!Joel not seeming to know why he built a shrine to the Ocean Queen. It's all gorgeous

—

Joel wandered his base. He liked how it was coming along. He enjoyed the resource gathering and the building. He enjoyed spending time with the Hermits. They were all so comfortable with each other that he couldn't help but feel welcome even though he was new.

But there was something needling at him. Something he couldn't quite remember.

He strolled down the stairs to the temple he'd built. The empty dais in the center where something should be enshrined. Pulling some clay out of his inventory, he slapped it down onto the dais and started to sculpt. It had been a long time since he sculpted anything.

He turned his brain off and let his hands just go where they wanted. Somewhere else in the world, Cleo would be proud of him. As the other major small-scale sculptor, they knew how much work it took to make statues this small, rather than huge with blocks. That was the easy way. Small amounts of clay around an armor stand were much harder and more fiddly.

Hours passed while he tugged at that needling feeling that he'd forgotten something. Trying to free it from where it was buried.

Nothing. He couldn't remember what it was he'd forgotten.

Two hours after beginning, he leaned back from his sculpture, stretching his back. Clay was caked under his fingernails.

Before him, he'd made a statue not quite to the scale he felt it should be, but he hadn't brought enough clay.

The statue was a woman. Tall. Lithe. Powerful. She had the regal bearing of a queen in some coastal kingdom far away from his cherry tree mountain. A trident slung casually in the crook of one elbow. A circlet resting above her brow that he'd jammed a diamond into the clay for effect while sculpting. The circlet had coral branches twining off at the woman's temples. She had long, flowing hair. He needed to paint the sculpture, but he already knew her hair would be pink. Her eyes and skin would be blue. The flowing gown a soft... lavender, maybe? Lilac?

A long axolotl tail extended from the base of her spine and up into the air, coral fanning off its ends.

And held gently in her arms, a much smaller man. Joel knew he'd paint the man's shirt purple. The crown in his hair gold with an emerald embedded just above his forehead. The sash green.

Why he knew those colors as easily as he knew his own hands, he wasn't sure.

Before he could lose the inspiration, he flew to the shopping district, landing hard at Pearl's dye shop. He scrambled to get his diamonds out of his Ender chest and bought every color he'd need. Dye wasn't exactly paint, but if he mixed it with a few other ingredients, he could make it work.

His Elytra's membrane snapped in the wind with the speed of his flight. He ran into his landing in the little hut he'd started his base in, scrounged up the last of the materials he'd need from his unbelievably disorganized chests—not his fault someone had come and messed with them—and soared back down to the shrine.

He painted quickly. Faster than he sculpted and certainly faster than he built.

When he finally stepped back, he was covered in paint and there was dried clay all over him. Creative projects were always messy with him.

He was breathing a little hard in the heat of the mid-afternoon, hair clumped on his forehead with sweat.

"There you are," he breathed, a tiny smile touching the corners of his mouth. He set his paints and brushes down.

The woman had come to life, in the clay and the color. Her deep blue eyes glittered. The gills on her neck looked delicate, despite being made of clay. The coral fans on the end of her tail were vibrant pink, her hair pastel. Her face shone with love and kindness, yet the fierceness of a true warrior of unknown power.

"Who are you? Why don't you leave my mind? Why don't you leave me?"

Because the smaller man in her arms, with his royal purple doublet and green sash—

He'd sculpted and painted himself.

The green in his hair that refused to dye out, only just starting to maybe grow in pink with this new world he found himself on, if he looked hard in the mirror (though he admitted that could have been an irritated scalp from him pulling so hard to try and dye it). The shape of his nose and his face. He'd sculpted himself without meaning to or trying.

Why the crown? Why the sash?

"Who was I then? Who were you to me?" he asked the statue.

The woman didn't respond.

Joel knelt before the statue on one knee. Even that felt oddly familiar. Like he'd taken a knee before this woman before. Maybe more than once.

"No..." He looked down at his hand. At the ring that remained on his finger no matter how many times he respawned or the situation that caused him to respawn. Simple and strong. If he took it off to build and then fell, the ring would be there when he came back. Always.

Tango had hypothesized it was a wedding ring. He had one himself. Tango had lived in Hermitcraft for a lot longer than a good portion of its other members. Since the second incarnation of the world. He hadn't always had his ring—gold and solid with a flaming red ruby and pale sky blue sapphire nestled against one another. It had appeared only a few years ago in the middle of a season after a jaunt off-world. Around the same time Joel and Etho met, though the memories were blurry. But since Tango had been on Hermitcraft for so long, he had lots of hypotheses. The world was isolated from the greater multiverse. Even the creative version of each Hermitcraft incarnation ran so closely parallel to the real world, its effects were the same.

But Tango had spent a late night telling Joel about his ideas of the multiverse while everyone else slept—the two of them awake to build a redstone machine and finish a building respectively. Each of them could create their own worlds elsewhere. And Hermitcraft's effects would no longer apply to them out there. But they all struggled to remember anything beyond Hermitcraft when they came back.

Tango thought they both might have a spouse. Somewhere out there on another world. Waiting for them. Spouses that the barrier between Hermitcraft and the rest of the universe didn't let them remember.

Could she be...?

Joel looked up at the statue.

The woman had webbed hands. She couldn't wear a ring.

"Are you my wife?" he asked. "Were you my wife? In another life? Or are you still? Somewhere out in the multiverse?"

The statue continued to be silent, looking down on the tiny version of himself with a face full of love and care. But the still-wet paint made those deep blue eyes glitter. Almost bittersweet.

Joel reached up, as though to cradle her face. To reassure her that It's alright, love. It won't be forever. I'll always come back to—

He couldn't reach her face. He'd made her too tall on the dais for him to reach without his scaffolding—that he'd already torn down.

He pulled out his communicator.

/w PearlescentMoon: Want to come see what I did? I think you'll like it

He didn't expect her response to arrive so fast.

<PearlescentMoon> whispers to you: Sure! OMW!

He only waited for a few minutes before he heard the snapping of Elytra membrane and Pearl ran to a stop on the flat area before his stairs. "Joel? Where are ya, mate?"

"In the temple!" Joel called back.

Pearl appeared at the entrance after a moment. "Hey!" she greeted, taming her long hair after her flight.

"Hi," Joel replied. He gestured to the statue. "I'm not as much an artist as you are, but I tried."

Pearl approached it curiously. "Oh my... mate, this is incredible. It's beautiful."

"Thanks," he said.

"How'd you pick the Ocean Queen?"

"The what?"

"Well that's who she is, isn't she? The Ocean Queen? Demigoddess of unlimited power over the sea?"

"I have no idea who... what?"

"Oh. Did you just come up with it, then?"

"I just let my instincts guide me through it."

"Hm. Maybe she's calling to you, mate. From beyond the stars." Pearl looked toward the setting sun, hidden as it was through the temple's structure.

"Maybe." Joel was less than convinced. "Tell me the story?"

"It's an old legend. From... I dunno, thousand years ago? Surprised you've never heard of it." Pearl leaned against the entryway frame, folding her arms. "Does the Cod King ring any bells?"

"Distantly?"

"That's the Ocean Queen's baby brother. She watched over his egg before he hatched after their mother died..."

—

"Lizzie?" Joel called, pushing open the door to Lizzie's base on SOS. "I'm home!"

Thundering footsteps met his ears. Lizzie appeared, the last of her armor falling off of her, a few bits of sculk caught on its edges. "About time!" she exclaimed, rushing across her kitchen and throwing her arms around him. "How's Hermitcraft been?"

"Fun," Joel said. He didn't have much to say beyond that. His memories of Hermitcraft were... hazy. At best. He remembered emotions. Some jokes. Lots of laughs. The vague shenanigan here or there. But nothing detailed. "I've really missed you." He held onto her tight, burying his nose in her hair. It smelled vaguely like sea salt and coconut. The cool metal of her wedding ring rested against the skin of his neck where her fingers threaded into his hair.

"I'm glad you're here. How long are you staying?"

"As long as I can. We knew when I accepted the invitation that it would be hard for me to travel more. But this was an opportunity too good to miss."

"I know. And I'm proud of you. But I miss you."

"I miss you too." He kissed the side of her head. "I'll stay for at least a month."

"Good."

#smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #Hermitcraft fic #ldshadowlady #Joel X Lizzie #Aurora Writes #Rory Writes #finally a short fic that isn't 3k words #jizzie

[applebyss-snakybite]

Here's more of that Sonic fate swap AU of mine. Is swaped Fate au a good abreviation for this? (I really need to come up with a title for this au, yikes)

Nevertheless, since I started things wrong with the villains as an introduction, I'm going to present the main hero: Amy Rose. Amy Rose swapped with Sonic. Now, I know there's a lot of concepts like that with her, but here's my take on it. I've decided to do the character explanation in a way more similar to a fanfiction, I think it makes it more fun to read than just me rambling. And, I think I'm going to write it a little bit as if it was a comic series... you'll see. I hope you'll enjoy this format (if you're even interested) because I think I want to stick with it :

PART 1: Amy Rose

When Amy was a young hedgehog, she was so energetic that her parents bought her a big squeaky hammer so she could have something to spend her energy on, while also allowing them to have a moment of peace from her. Amy really wanted her parents to buy her that hammer, and she ended up loving that hammer to an almost obsessive amount. She practiced several fighting techniques with it to the point that squeaky hammer became more than just a toy. Despite becoming so skilled with the squeaky hammer, she had yet to practice fighting with a real hammer. Nonetheless, fighting and sports became her passion. Once she reached the age of twelve, she became more independent and would explore the hills around her small village by herself.

That was when she encountered her first big conflict she ever needed to face by herself. She found two meanies who were bullying a six years old rabbit girl: Cream. Amy didn't know why they were bullying her, but she fought off the bullies, and Cream is forever thankful for her help. Cream has a creative mind, and she likes to tinker. She has a strong relationship with Chao that help her gather the resources for her art project and also help with the tinkering itself. When she saw Amy fight off the bullies with her toy hammer, she was inspired to build her a better, no, a real one with the help of the Chao. Amy's new hammer was made of wood, painted a pink and yellow, and was far more solid, thus dangerous. Amy and Cream became best friends after this event.

Amy was certain she was going to live the rest of her life in the village she was born in. It wouldn't have minded her if only there were any interesting boys around. It wasn't because she was tomboy-ish that it meant she wasn't interested in finding a lover. She would share her dreams about building a family to Cream, and the two would play house together with the Chao on a daily basis in Cream's secret Chao Garden. Taking care of Cream and the Chao quickly became Amy's favourite thing to do, and the two of them promised to always be there for each other. Cream said she was going to follow Amy wherever she would go. Cream became Amy's little sister at that point, and no one could separate them.

However, one day, the whole world turned around and completely changed the course of Amy's life. On another normal visit to Cream's secret Chao Garden. She noticed Cream at the entrance of it, panicking. The Chao had disappeared, and before she could say more, someone suddenly appeared from seemingly nowhere and kidnapped her. They were swift and fast. But, despite how agile they were, Amy wouldn't back down: her first adventure began here.

But, what or who could be that dark blur that caught Cream?

More will be told in the next part. :>

(Oh gosh, I told myself I wasn't going to do fanfictions on there.... well, each part is planned to be a rather short story without much dialogues, so that's fine.)

#sonic au #basically fanfic #fanfic #fanart #alternate universe #pencil drawing #sonic fandom #fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanart #traditional drawing #one panel comic #amy rose #au worldbuilding #cream the rabbit #backstory #cliffhanger #sorry not sorry #sonic #friendship #i dont know what else to add here #swap au #fate swap au #doodlysketch

[dimsilver]

yes the Christian homeschool community produces some arrogant debater types but it also produces men who read and love Anne of Green Gables so

#I have had multiple conversations about the books (strengths and yes flaws) with different guys recently #one was even making a painting inspired by it??