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nep-neptune-0

Sep 11

Seeking You

Dan Heng x Reader

Summary: Dan Heng never liked to be disturbed in his room, especially when he was sleeping. Even the slightest disturbance outside the door easily woke him up, much to his dismay. But he never felt troubled when you were the one who disturbed him.

Content: fluff, reader is injured, description of injury (not too detailed), male Trailblazer mentioned (sorry I luv him)

Word Count: 2k

a/n: I'm not a medical expert or anything like that, sorry if I got it wrong 😭

It was rare for the archivist of the Astral Express to get quality sleep. If he wasn’t out and running into all sorts of trouble with the Trailblazer and March 7th, you could find him in his room, so immersed in his work that he often forgot to sleep. The only semblance of rest he got was from blacking out from fatigue, but he never felt truly energized from it. He was also unfortunate enough to be a light sleeper, so during those rare times he decided to actually sleep in his bed and not pass out on his chair, all passengers made sure to take another route to their destination if their original path crossed his door. Of course, there were instances when they didn’t know he was sleeping, and later during that day his team would notice his fighting became just a tad more jagged, irritated. Though he never got properly upset at any of them.

Tonight was one of those rare nights where all Dan Heng wanted was to sleep, new data be damned. He had been pulled along for some new trouble the Trailblazer found himself in, which obviously triggered a chain reaction of even more trouble, as it always did. The archivist wasn’t sure how long they spent outside the Astral Express before they decided to call it a night.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out, and he intended to be out for at least a couple of hours if possible. Since both March 7th and Caelus had fatigue clinging on to them before they went to their rooms, it was safe to say he would remain undisturbed. But he failed to take another potential factor that would threaten his sleep time into consideration.

That factor was you.

His door was slammed open, a thud following close after. At first, he thought it was one of the troublemakers. He sat up, ready to tell them he wasn’t in the mood for another adventure.

All words he had thought of died in his throat. There was a lot of blood pooling under you, who collapsed onto your stomach. The faint light pulsing from the data bank illuminated your knitted eyebrows, trembling lips, and the sheen of sweat over your skin.

It wasn’t the first time you visited his room in the dead of night. Both of you had gotten into some rhythm of keeping each other company without saying much whenever you visited his room. While he was updating and refining data entries, you would be at his desk, sketching and scribbling notes of the new plants and enemies you had found during missions.

You were a curious soul with a thirst for knowledge that could rival any high-esteemed scholar or researcher. The first time you were there, you merely stood on the other side of the doorstep, asking him with a quivering voice if there were any data entries that matched something particularly eye-catching you had seen on your latest mission. When he had given you an answer, you had scurried away to your room after thanking him.

The next time you were there, you had bravely stepped into his room to observe him while he found the correct file. And before long it became a common occurrence for you to swing by after a mission, sketches in hand and questions burning at the tip of your tongue. After a few more times, Dan Heng had told you you were free to look through the information yourself.

At first, you thought he was telling you to stop bothering him, but the newest troublemaker on the express had other thoughts about it. He had pointed a shaking finger at you, sputtering about how the coldest person on the Astral Express had given you permission to touch his precious data without any consequences, something that he never thought was possible. Not that others weren’t allowed to, of course, but Dan Heng usually kept an eye on Caelus whenever he wanted to check something. A laugh had escaped you at that, and you waved his words away, saying that it was natural since Caelus somehow managed to cause trouble wherever he went. You weren’t special. In response you got a smug look from him. Whatever that meant.

One day, you were too caught up in information hunting you didn’t notice how much time had passed since you sat down by his desk. But before you could gather your papers and bolt out of the room with a flurry of apologies, he had stopped you and said you were allowed to stay as long as you wanted, so you sat back down.

You had wondered if he was actually alright with it. Occasionally, you would glance at him, trying to read his body language or facial expression for any sign of annoyance. At one instance, your eyes met his, and you couldn’t look away, but after a few seconds, you forcefully tore your focus away from him, back to the photographs. You felt the tips of your ears burning as intensely as the sun.

While you promised yourself to not look again in fear of embarrassing yourself, you couldn’t help but sneak some longing gazes at him. And if you had rested your eyes at him for a bit longer, you would have noticed his eyes being drawn to you more than a few times too.

That night, you had fallen asleep on his desk, face planted on all the photos you printed out to analyze. His coat had been draped over your frame as a makeshift blanket when you woke up and your phone had an unread message. You’re welcome to continue looking through the database even if I’m not there. I hope you slept well, it said. You remembered feeling flustered, not only from the message but also the faint smell of him lingering in the coat.

Soon enough an additional chair was placed by his desk. The surface was spacious enough to fit two people working on their own thing, only occasional talk filling the otherwise silent air. Sometimes, only you were there when he was out with Caelus and March 7th. The Database practically became your second room.

There were also times you opened the door to find him sleeping, and despite being a light sleeper that became grumpy the day after, he didn’t seem to be moody at all during the days after he was briefly woken up by you. He would merely peer up at you before shutting his eyes again, hand lazily beckoning you in. You had asked him more than once if your visits while he was resting disturbed his performance the day after, but every time he had told you not to worry about it. So you continued to visit him whenever you were finished with a mission, even if he happened to be sleeping. Though, you became more careful when opening his door.

Dan Heng would never admit that he slept better when you were in the room. The comforting sound of your pen scratching against paper and the occasional sighs or hums you let out somehow made him feel warm, a stark contrast to the coldness that enveloped him when he slept alone in the room. He really didn’t mind you waking him up more often in the middle of the night if it meant he got to experience that warmth.

Although, you had never arrived when he was sleeping with a gash on your stomach.

A metallic smell had spread through the air. Your breathing was shallow, body twitching from hiccups.

“What the hell happened?” Dan Heng breathed, though he didn’t expect a response. Before he could think, he was out the door, heading to the infirmary. He gathered all the supplies he could think of getting.

Detrimental thoughts swirled in his head like a typhoon. What mission were you sent to? Did they not check the danger levels before dispatching you? Did you get distracted? He should’ve come with you, but you were already gone by the time he met up with the troublemakers in the Parlor Car. You could’ve gone to him before heading out and he would gladly have accompanied you to the mission. What if you were gone by the time he came back?

When he had everything he needed, he hurried back. You still seemed to be in some state of consciousness when he entered his room, not dead. Good.

Dan Heng started wiping off the sweat that collected on your forehead, then he tentatively rolled you onto your back. The wound wasn’t as deep as he thought it was, it wasn’t life-threatening. You’d survive.

“I’m gonna clean your wound.” He shut the door and gave you a towel to bite on before unscrewing the bottle of antiseptic. “... it’s going to hurt.”

Guttural whines and sobs escaped your throat as soon as the alcohol touched your wound. Biting down hard on the cloth, your hand flailed to find purchase in anything that could ground you. The victim happened to be Dan Heng’s thigh. You were sure it would leave crescent shaped indents at the end of the procedure, but you could not be less bothered to care.

How you managed to stay somewhat lucid was beyond you. The shock probably helped you through the stitching part. Though Dan Heng’s gentle voice, mumbling something you could not quite make out, tethered you the most. If you had heard, you definitely would have been reeling from the profanities and apologies he was spewing out of concern.

When it was time for him to bandage you up, the pressure on your abdomen relieved you. Your jaw slackened and the archivist removed the now soggy towel.

“Sorry about the floor,” you slurred. “I’ll clean it up tomorrow.”

“You will not. Now, care to tell me what happened?”

“Hm.” Tiredness washed over you like a wave. The worst was over, and now you just wanted to sleep. “Found a treasure map, didn’t expect a Reaver to be in the way.”

“Hmph.” His disappointment was evident. “You’re lucky your wound wasn’t that dangerous. Who knows what could’ve happened. Did you go to that place alone? I would have gone with you if you wanted to find the treasure. You could’ve died, [Name]. Why didn’t you just go to Natasha when–”

“I couldn’t think straight,” you muttered, letting your eyes flutter shut. Your voice dropped down to a fragile whisper. “After I got injured– I don’t know– all I could think about was getting back to you first. I wanted to see you.”

There, you said it. A few seconds went by and he had nothing to say back. Great. When you had gathered enough energy you were heading – crawling if you needed to – straight to your room and–

“You absolute idiot.” Gentle hands lifted you up, trying to avoid agitating your wound. You were half-expecting him to carry you back to your bedroom, but you felt him taking a few steps before you were lowered again, onto something soft. His bed.

Dan Heng laid himself slowly beside you in fear of making you uncomfortable. He laid on his side, using his arm as his pillow as he gazed at your side profile. His free hand inched forward to brush some hair away from your face.

“I’ll always be here,” he murmured. “Next time you get injured, which I rather wouldn’t happen, give me a call and head to Natasha’s immediately. I will be there as quickly as I can.”

Your eyes hesitantly cracked open. Upon seeing the worry etched onto his face you brought your hand to intertwine with his.

“Promise?” you asked meekly.

“I promise.” His lips ghosted over your cheek before he casted his blanket over the both of you with the utmost care. “I’ll clean the blanket tomorrow, so don’t worry about it. Now, get some sleep. After the troublemakers roping me into their schemes and you nearly giving me a heart attack, I really need some rest. We’ll go to Natasha’s Clinic tomorrow.”

“Yeah… good night.”

“Good night, love.”

#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#hsr x rea#hsr x you#hsr x gen#honkai star rail x gn reader#hsr x gn reader#dan heng x you#dan heng x gn reader#dan heng x gender neutral reader#hsr dan heng#honkai star rail dan heng#dan heng#dan heng x reader

idv-sunsxin3

May 5

Rody Lamoree // Random Dating HCs

{Dead Plate and characters belong to Studio Investigrave}

Note// He is like, 80% my type... I love him, though, dhdbdb I guess it's gn for s/o. I'm kinda a straight girl (who loves bl and yuri---), so sorry if I sound too straight./ih

•He is clingy, extremely affectionate, and touch starved... Relationships didn't end well with him because of that. But you managed to soften that by giving him plenty of love and attention when you both make time for each other. You can't say no to his puppy eyes;;;

•Can't cook for his life, is either you teach him how to cook or you both order takeout. If you do decide to teach him, he might fail miserably once in a while like injuring himself somehow or burn water--- he'll feel so bad that he is the reason you're carrying burden through the process but he'll sob more once he notices how patient, caring, and supportive you are while guiding him...

Rody// *sobs while looking at Y/N as if they're god*

Y/N // you okay there, babe?

•He'll die peacefully when he gets called pretty boy, Honey, hunny bunny, puppy, darling- no matter how cheesy or weirdly cute, it is Honey, him feel so giddy amazing 🥺✨️

•He is canonly buff and strong, so I can't help but imagine he is more than happy to carry you around on his shoulder or in bridal style to the point you don't even need to walk at all when he's with you/ih

•He'll compliment you a lot. He is your #1 fan. He'll quickly notice the changes in your appearance in one glance.

•New Haircut? Worshipping you right now. You wore something new? He'll take pictures of you in different angles, including selfies of both of you - red carpet material. You did your nails? Oh god, slay... Oh, what's this? A keychain you bought? That is so cool. He'll be so dramatic about it that it's so funny;😭

•Like man-- he's so supportive. Overwhelmingly supportive. He won't deny anything you decide and just support you till the end-- Like he's too in love to even care. He wouldn't even help but smush your cheeks together and say, "WTH WHY ARE YOU SO PRETTY AUGHHH;;;" (thx to the sketch Rachel made;;;)

•He'll usually respond to you whenever you text him - or even as soon as possible to respond back through letters. He always loves your voice, so there would be times he asks if you can call each other. Having him lean to the side of the wall as he is blushing by the soft whispering in his ear you make through the phone.

•He'll do all his power to spoil you with gifts and expensive dates despite being broke. He'll go the extra mile to always do something so special in your anniversaries.

•Even in Valentine's Day, to the point he may forget to treat himself... you gotta remind him that his birthday is your pride and joy. Like, it's the day god blessed you for letting a beautiful being like him spawn/lh

•HEAR ME OUT- I'm looking respectfully.... No one should deny that this man is pretty muscular ♥️ He is so bashful when you praise his strength. You would also have the privilege to touch his biceps or lean your head on his chest,,,(I swear I'm normal). Just the feeling of you tracing his arm, shoulder, spine, and chest makes him go crazy and so down bad -

•He won't stop talking about you once a question related to you comes up - the victim will never hear the end of it -

•Canonly when you date him, He'll give you flowers that are plucked out of the ground since he cannot afford to bye a prettier bouquet from a flower shop...

•When he's sad, you have to give him words of assurance or hold him close... You can even order any kind of fast/junk food, and he'll be so happy that you would do that for him😭🥺

•If you happen to be smaller than him, he would find the opportunity to hover over you and wrap you up with his hoodie or coat before pulling you to an embrace. Kinda like shoving your head inside the coat;;;

•Besides writing songs and playing the guitar for you, he would also try to sing for you if he wasn't so hella shy about it. hhh;(he sings surprisingly decently tho!!!)

•He loves having a bike ride with you- he once promised that if he ever affords a car, you'll always get the passenger princess treatment, no buts!!!

#dead plate fanfic#dead plate rody#dead plate#dead plate x reader#rody lamoree#rody lamoree x reader

outerbankies

Mar 30

“it’s late, come back to bed.”

PROMPT CELLY GO BRRRRRRRRR. thank u for requesting this one (forever ago) bestie!!!! 💓🤩👯‍♀️

—

new light: space and time

rafe x reader, part of the 2k prompt celly for new light (masterlist if ur not up on NL). we’re back in the present!

A stubborn knot about the size of a fist had settled into place at the top of Rafe’s spine slowly over the last few weeks, right in between his often-taught shoulder blades.

He guesses it was during the late nights like these that it began to form, when he’s hunched over his sketching table in the garage lit only by the warm lightbulb in the work lamp over his head—drawing and erasing and scrapping to start over again and again. Or when he’s on his laptop tinkering with his website or any of the platforms he uses for invoicing and processing orders, easily his least favorite part of all of this, until his eyes are irritated and red.

Though it’s certainly not made better by the other half of his day, where he’s hunched over or crouching under his projects as he brings them to life, doubting himself the entire time, twisting himself into weird angles just to make sure everything holds and looks how he pictured it. But at least he likes that part.

A hand, holding a warmth that Rafe can feel through the cotton of his long-sleeve t-shirt, settles directly into place over that knot at the top of his spine, and he feels himself take a deep, steadying breath as he leans back into your touch.

“What’s this, baby, the built-ins?” you ask, your voice softer in these midnight hours.

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, immediately rubbing his hands into his eyes, his knuckles turning his vision bleary momentarily. “For Beau’s friend.”

“Mmm,” you hum, slightly digging the heel of your palm into his back. Rafe lets out a groan. “There?”

“Right there,” he confirms, letting his head drop back gratefully, accepting a few sleepy kisses once he goes.

You place your other hand on his shoulder for some leverage, leaning over him to peer at his catastrophe of a workstation. “I thought you’d already gone over the sketches with them?”

“I did,” he says. “But they go in tomorrow.”

“Right,” you nod, scrutinizing them again, looking to see if they’d changed at all. “I remember.”

“So I’m just making sure—” Rafe stops momentarily, letting out a hiss. “Careful, baby.”

The pressure on his back eases immediately, and you take to rubbing your hand across the span of his shoulders instead. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I’m just making sure I have everything down,” he continues, leaning forward again. “I wanna know my stuff before I head in.”

“What if I quiz you? On measurements and colors and finishes and—”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he interjects, his smile rivaling yours when you finally settle into his lap like he’d been angling for you to since he heard the garage door open and knew he’d be getting that reprieve from the mess inside his head. “But it doesn’t really work like that, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, snaking your arms around his neck anyway, the pads of your fingers rubbing circular motions into his trouble spot again. “Then how else can I get you to come back to bed?”

Guilt settles into Rafe’s stomach like a rock, the soreness in his back momentarily forgotten as he sees the plea in your eyes. “I swear I’ll be up soon.”

“Rafe, it’s late.”

“Coming from you,” he retorts, virtually no bite behind his words. Because as Rafe had left Beau’s company months ago and only since then become more entrenched in his new job, in starting his own business, you’d seamlessly settled in at your job at the publishing house, not overworking yourself nearly as much as the two of you used to argue about. Still more than Rafe would ever prefer, naturally, but he’s not sure he has room to talk anymore.

“We’re turning into perfect little Figure 8 capitalists right on schedule, aren’t we?” you say, wiggling around in his lap in a way he isn’t convinced isn’t a punishment for abandoning his side of the bed a few hours ago.

You lean forward, grabbing one of the pencils Rafe had discarded and tapping it on your chin while he checks his watch, feeling his eyes widen.

“God, I’m turning into my dad.”

“No you’re not,” you laugh, still leaning out of his reach as you seem to start writing something in one the margins. You pause, pointing the pencil at the long-cold cup of coffee next to his pencil cup. “Unless there’s secretly liquor in your decaf over there. You know decaf still has caffeine in it, right?”

At Rafe’s silence, you turn to him with your eyebrows raised, the pencil dropping out of your hand and clattering onto the table.

“Like… trace amounts, right?” he asks sheepishly.

“My sweet, sweet boy,” you sigh, running your fingers through the hair on top of Rafe’s head that’s really beginning to need a cut.

“Probably need it,” he shrugs. “I’ll only be up a little while longer though. Promise.”

“You’re really worried about this one, aren’t you?” you ask him softly, some of the mirth fading in your eyes as you trace a finger around the shell of his ear.

“It’s Beau’s friend, baby, I… these guys could have anyone working on their houses. And Beau was really good to me about quitting. I just wanna nail this one and be done with it,” Rafe admits.

He doesn’t tack on the bit about how this feels like one of his first big tests; his first custom, built-in piece period, outside of the ones he’s made for his most forgiving audience, his sisters and you. Because it’s one thing to make a piece for a friend of a friend of a friend, or even to sell one in a store where someone can see it and touch it and decide that they hate it before they have to commit. But it’s another to have someone counting on him to deliver exactly what they envision, let alone someone who could be Rafe’s foot in the door to a wealth of opportunities. He wants to be done with it at this point, sure, but he doesn’t want it to be the end of this road.

“Exactly,” you say, shrugging. “They could have anyone. And I love you, Rafe, but I mean literally anyone else. But your designs are good. Really good. And your craftsmanship is impeccable. They want you.”

He feels his cheeks heating up, and knows it’s showing based on the twinkle in your eye. “You’re an expert in furniture and carpentry now, are you?”

“I am, because I’ve now lived in two Pinterest-level apartments without ever having to hire a contractor. And I’m a picky bitch,” you say, laughing around the last bit.

“You are not,” Rafe laughs. “And half of that is your decorating. Maybe 70, 75%.”

“Your modestly will never not exhaust me,” you declare, smacking one last kiss onto his lips before standing up. “You’re gonna be fine tomorrow, alright? But you’ve got to get some sleep.”

“Ten minutes?” he pleads.

“I will generously give you ten seconds instead. It’s your lucky day,” you say, shuffling toward the doorway back into the house, where two curious dogs await your return.

“Thanks,” he answers sarcastically, before standing to check everything over one last time. These guys could have anyone, he tells himself. They chose him.

He’s gathering his pencils to deposit back into the cup, just about to reach over his head and turn off his work lamp for the night when he sees it, what you’d been scribbling into the margin on one of his designs: you got this RC. hurry home!

At just the same moment that he’s he’s tracing over your loopy “y” and the heart you’d finished your note off with, you call out his name from the doorway, his family waiting for him.

You give him a saccharine-sweet smile, your arms crossed over your chest. “I wasn’t asking.”

#answered#cognacdelights#frankie so very sorry ur being tagged in rafe x reader fic but u asked for it by being my long distance tumblr mutual#new light hcs#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#outer banks imagine#outer banks fanfiction

kazumiwrites-fanfiction

Aug 21, 2023

Not-So-Secret Drawings

REQUEST:Hi there, so I've been daydreaming about this for awhile but I absolutely suck at writing so, could i request hcs were the reader is really good at drawing and has been secretly drawing random people on campus whenever they get the chance, but one day reader forgets there sketch pad somewhere and a character (of your choosing) finds it and decides to snoop and finds drawingsof them and people on campus. Just as they finish looking through reader comes (after realizing they forgot it). I hope this makes sense to you, have a nice day/night.

SUMMARY: Your carefully hidden secret is out now.WORD COUNT: 1k

WARNINGS: Riddle, Azul, Floyd, and Vil snooping looking through your drawings, reader is a really good artist, Riddle threatens you (out of love I swear), Azul is uncomfortable by your drawings (not in a bad way- I think), mentions of getting lectured by Azul, Floyd is a ball of chaos, Vil gets no warnings because he's perfect/jA/N: When I tell you that as soon as I saw this I immediately rushed to write two parts before having to stop because I needed to do my summer homework - and then procrastinated the last part (Vil)-Also I know you implied one character but since I'm indecisive I did multiple haha (I'm sorry (but also kind of not because this was fun))I'm sure you don't suck at writing!! You just get sick of your own writing because it all seems predictable (speaking from experience, I read my work and I'm like "ew?? I need better words" haha)Vil's part is definitely weird because I was like "Fashion Designer!Reader" (probably because some of my friends take fashion/design classes) and I don't know how accurate this is I suck at drawing so I know nothing please don't come at me-Also on a side note, I have a lot of requests right now and since I have a lot of schoolwork I have to do right now, my writing will probably be scattered. Hope you guys understand!(Hope you have a nice day/afternoon/night/etc too!!)

Š kazumiwrites - All rights reserved; please do not steal, edit, copy, repost (etc) my work without my express permission.

You had always been careful with your drawings. You never wanted another person to look at them. After all, you had been drawing other people - and who knew what they would think?

Sure, they were pretty accurate, but still. It wasn't like the people at Night Raven College knew that you were drawing them. And you didn't want your drawings to get destroyed just because someone in a foul mood found them. Just your luck though, as you had left your sketchbook somewhere. Where did you even misplace it…

Riddle Rosehearts

He had always seen you with your sketchbook, but had assumed it was just for studying.

Likewise, when it popped up during class, he assumed that you were diligently taking notes.

It was almost sad seeing how far from the truth he was in hindsight.

Since he found your sketchbook on the floor (perhaps having fallen from your bag - it was always full, after all), he decided to take it to you. On the way over to Ramshackle Dorm, he flipped through the sketchbook before he paused.

These weren't notes. They were drawings.

And very good ones, at that.

They were so detailed, he thought for an instant that you had magicked them on here somehow (before remembering that you didn't have any magic).

So was this what you could do with some time and diligence?

His mother had never let him draw much so his drawings were mediocore at best (at worst, one would think that a small child had drawn them).

He found himself captivated by the artwork, flipping through the pages, seeing the drawings of various people from the school. Even some of himself…? With more details... It was odd, the small flutter in his chest. Happiness?

He jolted as he heard your voice, asking if that sketchbook in his hands was yours, abruptly slamming the sketchbook shut as if he had been looking at something completely inappropriate. Which, in a way, he might have been?

"Sorry for looking at these without your permission." He got out after a moment, handing it back to you. "You're a really good artist." He paused. "But you shouldn't be drawing in class. If I catch you with this sketchbook out during Trein-sensei's lectures, I'll have your head!"

Azul Ashengrotto

Of course Azul had noticed your drawings. He needed to in order to make sure he knew as much as possible about others so he could scam help them whenever they needed it.

Still, he found it intriguing, so he couldn't help but skim through your drawings. And my, were they amazing.

Until he got to the section where you had drawn him.

Sure, there were drawings of him in regular uniform, some of him in his P.E. uniform (he thought that they weren't really flattering on him, but you made it look good).

But then there were the sections where you had drawn him in mer form.

Of course, you had no idea what his mer form actually looked like (without all the overblotting, which you never got the chance to see clearly anyway) so it was mostly guesswork and using your imagination.

There were ones with long, large tentacles swarming around him.

Some with tentacles that were slender.

Some of them popped out of weird angles, which he was puzzled about, but okay.

My tentacles can't move like that - or can they?

They definitely shouldn't be popping out of his ribs. Wherever did you get that particular idea? It made him uncomfortable just by looking at it.

He was so caught up in examining your drawings and he didn't notice you until you literally snatched the sketchbook from his hands, saying something about how they were private.

"Sorry, [Y/N]-san... But these drawings aren't too accurate, you know."

And that was how you got roped into a three-hour long discussion about the anatomy of octopuses as well as the anatomy of merfolk and how your drawings were terribly inaccurate. (You were just guessing, how were you supposed to know any of this?)

Floyd Leech

Floyd wouldn't even wait until the sketchbook was unattended.

He'd pop out of nowhere, eyes bright, asking what you were doing.

Never mind if it was in the middle of class or not.

You've both gotten scolded about this, he should know better.

Still, one day he caught you by surprise, and the book slipped from your hands.

You muttered a small curse before trying to grab it, but whoops, too late. Floyd had already gotten it and was flipping through the pages.

"Aww, Koebi-chan, you drew me?" His gaze met yours, a wide grin on his face (showing his extremely sharp teeth). "You should've just asked, I would've modeled and stuff for you."

You shook your head slightly. You had wanted to keep this a secret if possible... At least Floyd seemed to be in a fairly good mood. You told him that you wanted to draw people in their natural state, without them posing for the "camera," so to speak.

He looked disappointed, but then immediately asked if you could come to a basketball practice or match or something. Perhaps you'd find it more interesting to draw him there. Or maybe in the ocean?

Vil Schoenheit

He was no stranger to people drawing him. He was famous after all.

He did sometimes get… odd pieces of artwork, but that was to be expected.

Still, he didn't expect to find a sketchbook with him in it, abandoned at an empty seat. Only drawings of him.

It had so happened that you were trying to figure out a good design for clothing. You always wanted to have a face to your designs, and he was the perfect subject.

Maybe your drawings didn't do him justice, but it was interesting to see how you could tweak your designs to fit him better.

Still, Vil was plenty impressed.

These designs... He could definitely see himself wearing them.

Maybe he could show them to one of the people he knew... They could help make something like that. With your permission, of course.

He closed the book as he heard you come up.

"These designs really are fascinating. Would you mind showing me more details? I'm certain that we can turn these drawings into reality if you'd like it."

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dolliethv

Sep 13

Thinking Bout You

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! After writing a romantic story and two stories with smut, I wanted to try something new with angst inspired by the song "Thinking Bout You" by Ariana Grande, enjoy it xoxo.

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 1,9k

It was a rainy afternoon in London, and the gray sky seemed to mirror your mood. With your brown hair tangled in a messy bun and your glasses sliding down your nose, you were lost in the designs for your final university project. You were studying Fashion Design and Production, a world you immersed yourself in to escape your own thoughts, especially when those thoughts revolved around Jude Bellingham.

Jude, the young English football star, had entered your life by chance. You’d crossed paths in a small café near the Birmingham stadium. You had been sitting, absorbed in your sketches, when Jude, soaked from a sudden drizzle and with a cap barely concealing his famous face, sat at the adjacent table. It was a chance encounter; your eyes met, and the rest, as they say, is history. But not just any history. It was one full of ups and downs, intense moments, and above all, pain.

At first, everything was beautiful. Jude was charming, charismatic, and had that infectious laugh that made your world, always so structured and orderly, burst into color and chaos. The first few months were a whirlwind of emotions, with text messages late into the night, video calls from hotels in cities you could only imagine, and promises to see each other soon whenever Jude’s schedule allowed.

On the nights you managed to meet, the world seemed to stop. The walls of your small apartment became witnesses to muffled laughter under the sheets, bodies intertwined in the dim candlelight, and whispered secrets at midnight. They were moments of intimacy you both cherished, where the worries of the outside world did not exist. Jude would often stroke your hair while you rested on his chest, and in those moments everything seemed perfect, as if nothing could ever separate you.

You clearly remembered the nights when Jude would hold you after particularly tough days. He’d wrap you in his arms and kiss you gently, assuring you that everything would be okay. You’d stay up late talking about your dreams, laughing at silly things, and planning a future together. Jude would tell you stories about his training, how he imagined celebrating his goals with you in the stands, while you’d describe the dresses you would someday design, dreaming of seeing him wear one of your jackets at an important gala.

But over time, the distance and the demands of your respective lives began to take their toll. Jude found himself caught between his rising career and the media pressure that followed him at every turn. You, on your part, struggled with your own dreams and the growing sense that you would never measure up to the perfect world surrounding Jude. The nights that were once filled with laughter and conversation turned silent, with Jude too exhausted from training and you worn out after hours of working on your designs.

One afternoon, Jude called you from a crowded airport. It was the first time you didn’t hear excitement in his voice. “I don’t know how to handle all of this,” Jude said, with a vulnerability you rarely saw. “I need you, but sometimes I feel like I’m dragging you into something I’m not sure I can control.”

You felt a knot in your stomach. You needed him too, but the uncertainty and constant lack of time were starting to wear you down. Still, you tried to reassure him, hiding the tremor and pain in your voice. “We’ll get through this, Jude. We always do.”

First Confrontation: The Crumbling Reality.

One night, in a small Italian restaurant where you used to meet when Jude was in town, the tension finally erupted. You had arrived early, your fingers drumming on the table as you mentally reviewed what you wanted to say. Jude arrived with his usual smile, but there was something different about him. His gaze was distracted, as if his mind was somewhere else.

“I miss you,” you said, breaking the ice with a tone that sounded more like a plea than a mere statement. Jude looked up, his eyes reflecting a deep fatigue that went beyond the physical.

“I miss you too,” he replied sincerely. “It’s just that... all of this is so complicated.”

Feeling your emotions overflow. “I don’t know if I have you or if I’m fighting alone for something that I don’t even know still exists.”

Jude looked away, unable to sustain his painful honesty. “I don’t know how to do this better, darling. Football, the pressure... sometimes I feel like I’m losing everything that matters, and it really hurts.”

You leaned toward him, your eyes filled with unfallen tears. “And I feel like I’m losing you. I see you more in the news than in person.”

Jude clenched his jaw, struggling with the words he knew he had to say but that hurt too much. “Maybe we’re asking too much of each other... maybe this isn’t our time.”

Dinner ended in silence, both knowing there were no easy answers. You left the restaurant with a heavy heart, feeling each step take you further away from Jude.

Second Confrontation: The Unspoken Words.

A few weeks later, you and Jude tried to fix things during a rare weekend together. But instead of the reconnection you both hoped for, reality reasserted itself. You were at your apartment, surrounded by sketches and fabrics you had left unfinished. Jude sat on the sofa, watching you try to concentrate on your work, but the tension was palpable.

“Why don’t you tell me everything?” Jude broke the silence, his tone laden with contained frustration. “It seems like you’re not letting me into your life, like you’re keeping all your struggles to yourself.”

You dropped your pencil and turned to face him. “Do you want to know? I feel alone, Jude. All of this is too much. I try to understand your life, but sometimes I feel like mine has no place in it.”

Jude closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “I didn’t want this to affect you like this. I always wanted to protect you from all of this.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling. “But you can’t protect me if it means pulling away from me. I need to be with you, not just in the good times, but in the bad ones too.”

Jude nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his own decisions and the pressure of a world that seemed to sweep them away. He moved closer to you and hugged you tightly, as if trying to capture that moment in memory, as if his life depended on it, knowing that things would never be as they were before. Both of you knew that the nights you shared, those of intimacy and tenderness, were no longer enough to keep you together.

The Last Conversation: Accepting the Inevitable.

Finally, on a cold January morning, you gathered the courage to face what you had feared for months. You found him at the door of the apartment that once was your refuge. Jude looked at you with tired eyes, knowing exactly what was coming. There were no shouts or accusations, only a silent understanding that, no matter how much you loved each other, your lives simply did not fit together.

“I will always love you with my life,” Jude whispered, his voice breaking as you gathered your things. “But I can’t keep hurting you.”

You nodded, tears falling silently down your cheeks. “Maybe we weren’t meant to last, but at least I have the memory.”

Jude looked at you, a lump in his throat, struggling against tears. “No one understood me like you did, baby… ‘nobody got me the way that you did.’ You’ll always be the only person who truly knew me, i love you.”

You smiled sadly, recognizing in his words a truth you both knew. “I feel the same way, Jude.”

The process of separation was slow and painful. Every time you saw Jude on TV, your chest tightened, reminding you of all you had left behind. Jude, for his part, every time he scored a goal, would look for your gaze in the crowd, hoping to see it, hoping to feel that everything you had lived wasn’t in vain.

Months later, you presented your final project, inspired by everything you had experienced with Jude. Your collection was called “Memories of Us,” and was filled with details that only someone who knew your story could understand: colors that reflected the emotions of your best days together and textures that evoked the fragility of what you once had. The collection was a success, but you knew it was not just a professional triumph; it was a bittersweet farewell.

#Spotify#jude bellingham fic#jude bellingham#jude bellingham stories#jude x fem reader#jb5 x reader#jb5#jude bellingham angst#angst#jude angst#real madrid

badaseyebags

Mar 5

private lessons ⋆。°✩ chapter 2 ⟢

fluffy, suggestive, smut in upcoming chapters

word count: 3k+ (phew)

warnings: very obvious power dynamics, just some making out, a bit of begging, lots of praise, lots of pet names, BADA CALLS HERSELF MOMMY!!!! aaaa

author’s note: i’m back 😳 i’m sorry that this took much longer then i expected, pls don’t block me 😞 i hope this is readable and not too disappointing @-@ i promise there’s actual smut coming soon! feel free to leave some feedback/suggestions! thank you so much for reading ♡ -booger 🍞

with one last glance in the mirror you gathered the remainder of your courage and slipped on your shoes, grabbing your purse with shaky hands. why were you so nervous? it’s not like you’re going over to her house to get bent over. you’re simply going to get tutored. unfortunately you remind yourself why you’re in this position in the first place, due to your lack of concentration during her classes. you sigh shaking your head, applying a second coat your favourite lipgloss nonetheless, just for good measures! was it too much? was it obvious you put in a little more effort than you usually do? would she notice? why would she? and why do you even care so much in the first place? she’s just a teacher after all..

she had texted you the address and you realised she actually lived a bit further, which is probably why she offered to come pick you up in the first place, not wanting to inconvenience her any further you politely refused. maybe you were starting to regret it knowing it’ll take a long time to get there by bus, and you’ll most likely be late.. late to your first ever tutoring class, what a great way to start. woohoo!

you put your headphones on, making your way into the bus and finding an empty seat all the way in the back. that way you could have some privacy to collect yourself before you meet her. actually.. that wasn’t really working and you began getting more nervous so you decided to pull out your notebook to mindlessly doodle for the time being. it turned out quite cute you thought to yourself, staring at the sketch, imagining those two figures kissing were you and her. oh no, you’re doing it again. you and your stupid imagination! and that’s not even the first time you caught yourself doing something so silly. you close your notebook shoving it back into your bag, just a few stops away from your destination. phew. time to actually collect yourself!

with wobbly knees you make your way to her apartment, palms sweaty as you smooth them over your skirt. 10 minutes, you’re 10 minutes late.. would she notice? she’s having a day off that she sacrificed specifically to help you, and you dare come late? oh no, you’re definitely screwed. you start panicking as guilt washes over you, practicing your apology in your head, accidentally ringing her doorbell in the process. fuck. you didn’t mean to do that just yet, you weren’t ready. if you’re fast enough you can just ru-

you heard the door nob turning, soon revealing a tall slim figure in front of you. “oh miss y/n! you decided to show up after all, and here i thought you didn’t need my help anymore” she teases giving you a half smile making your heart jump, not only due to you being late, but because of how effortlessly attractive she looked with her two toned hair tied back into a messy loose braid, complimenting her light blue button up paired with some slacks. not to mention the sound of her half groggy voice calling out your name and the way it slid past her lips so smoothly.

“h-hello mrs. lee i am so sorry for being late! i didn’t”before you could finish your apology she chuckled, shaking her head. “no need to apologise sweetie, i was just teasing a little. come on in, make yourself at home.” you blink up at her, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. you just greeted her and messed up? damn already? was it because she called you sweetie?! god, you’re hopeless.

“i won’t bite.” she chuckled again, walking into her apartment leaving you with no choice but to follow behind her, timidly shutting the door as you entered. you swore you could hear her quietly mumble something under her breath, but you decided it was your twisted mind playing tricks on you once again. for the sake of your sanity. “here here, have a seat. care for some tea? coffee perhaps?” she pulls out a chair for you and this small gesture alone has your heart fluttering for no reason. you look down shyly, taking a seat and avoiding her gaze. “i..uh.. anything is fine, thank you.” you mumble trying not to keep yourself composed. she smiles nodding as she reaches for the jar of instant coffee. “i haven’t had my coffee yet, since i wasn’t sure if you’d like to drink some with me. do you like yours with milk, sugar?” was she calling you sugar or was she asking you whether or not you wanted sugar in your coffee? …and she waited for you to have coffee? yeah, as if. you need to stop being delusional. “miss y/n?” she glanced back at you knocking you of out your prolonged silence. “i-i would like both please.. i like my coffee s-sweet” you close your eyes in embarrassment as another stutter leaves your clumsy lips. you swear you never stutter. she chuckles in response as she prepares your drink. “we are quite the opposite, i prefer mine black.” she gives you a soft smile, sitting down across from you, setting your drink in front of you. you mutter a shy thank you as your hands reach for the spoon, mixing some sugar into the warm beverage. “oh that’s nothing, i usually make really good coffee but my coffee machine broke recently so.. instant coffee will have to do for now.” you nod quickly, fingers gripping the handle and side of the cup. “that’s fine! any coffee is good! i actually prefer instant it’s not like i know much about coffee anyways-” your lips are faster then your brain causing you to blurt out such a fact about you, which only made her smile wider. “oh we really are opposites, maybe i could change your mind once i make you a proper cup, hm?” you blush nodding fast in agreement, did that mean you’d be seeing her more then just this one time? you try to calm your nerves by bringing the cup to your lips, taking a little sip. maybe it’s better to keep your mouth busy so you don’t end up embarrassing yourself even more.

“so y/n… just how much experience do you really have?” she also brings her own cup to her lips, eyes fixated on yours. your eyes widen, the coffee you tried swallowing getting stuck in the back of your throat at her question, resulting you in coughing out loud making her put her cup down and lean towards you in worry. “are you alright sweetie? was it too hot? did it burn you?” you cover your mouth, calming yourself down as you shake your head noticing bada is very professional and calm despite asking such a personal question.

maybe you are too shy after all and you should be more open when it comes to talking about your sex life. people do it all the time, it’s totally natural. you hear others talk about it all the time. but then again why would she ask you such a private question out of nowhere? maybe she’s just a very social person, this is how adults talk and there shouldn’t be shame. it’s not like you ever talked about sexual things with anyone, but you know others do. like with their friends, parents, therapists, lovers.. you just need to get over the embarrassment and step out of your shell, you could learn a lot from her, be as mature as she is, even when it comes to such topics. she sure wouldn’t judge you no matter what, she’s a teacher after all. “i’m fine! i’m just.. not too good at talking about such topics.. but i… well…i don’t have much experience… none at all actually. that’s really embarrassing to admit. others my age have already done so.. many times.. maybe i am really slow or something..” you chew on your bottom lip, struggling to keep your head up to look at her, choosing to look into your cup instead. if you could see your own reflection in the coffee you’re sure your face would be beet red by now. that’s when bada herself chokes a little as your unexpected response.

you totally misinterpreted what she was asking. she was asking about your experience on the subject she was supposed to tutor you on, not your sexual experience. did she give you the wrong impression? was she being too obvious with her interest in you? were her flirting attempts not as subtle as she attempted? no way, with how empty headed you are they probably flew right past you, she thought. well.. it’s not like she wasn’t curious about that in the first place, but she wouldn’t have asked so suddenly. however, she didn’t have the heart to embarrass you like that by correcting you and telling you that you misunderstood her question.

she just cleared her throat and went along with it. was she willing to risk it all? this made her want to corrupt you even more, but she can’t. not yet. you made her lose her composure. she needed to fix that and get back in charge. she won’t let it, let you, fluster her. “sweetie..there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. that’s exactly what i’m here for.” she decided to test out the waters, see if you were as submissive and truly empty minded around her as she painted you to be. her hand was itching to get a feel of your skin, she was struggling to fight it. she needs to take this slow she reminds herself, she doesn’t want to scare you away. but it seems like you’re already falling into her trap. your eyes instantly snap up to meet hers, to make sure weather you heard her correctly.

“it would be such a pity if you left without learning anything.. wouldn’t that make me a bad teacher, hm?” she furrows her brows in faux sympathy as her hand finally reaches out, gently cupping your cheek making you look up at her. you gasp at the sudden contact and your current situation. “oh y-yeah… i’m here to be tutored-“ you try to avoid her gaze, once again looking down in embarrassment. your nervousness made you think of studying again, which is the reason she invited you over. right? you must be totally misunderstanding this. you’re just being delusional, you tell yourself.

despite you both sitting down she visibly towered over you, not just in her height, but in her presence alone. you could feel her knees ever so gently pressing against your own if you weren’t trying so hard to distract yourself.

was she sitting so close to you from the start?

she scoffs in amusement, her lips forming a fake frown. “oh you poor little thing.. you really thought i wouldn’t notice the way you look at me during class? that i can’t see right through that pretty little head of yours? you’re a smart girl y/n, we both know you don’t actually have a issue with learning..” your cheeks heat up as you’re forced to meet her gaze that looks more intimidating then ever. she just exposed you. she knew it this whole time. you didn’t think your crush on her was that visible. your lips part to speak but no words come out making her grin. her thumb slides past your bottom lip ever so gently, almost knocking the air out your lungs. “i think.. you could do so much better, all you need is just a little motivation.” she hovers over you, her thumb now reaching the corner of your lips, collecting the remainder of coffee and bringing it up to her own lips. her eyes flutter shut momentarily, licking her thumb clean and savouring the flavour with a hum. “so sweet indeed..” she hooks her pointer finger under your chin, making you look up at her. chuckling softly she leans in further, her thumb stroking just below your bottom lip as her eyes trail from your eyes to your lips and back. “are you gonna let me have a taste, doll?”

you gulp, your own eyes focused on her lips, slowly nodding as you look up at her. “now now, wouldn’t that be too easy?” she leans in closer, lips near your ear. “you’ll have to be a good girl and ask for it.” your mouth goes completely dry as you gulp. your hands clutch a fist full of your skirt, tension so thick it could cut air separating you two. you mutter under your breath, scared your voice will betray you. “mrs. lee.. could you.. umm.. can you kiss me?” you shut your eyes tight, hoping she would kiss you then and there. instead you only hear a dry chuckle.

you open your eyes, attention on her as she tucks a stray hair behind your ear, confusion painted on your face. “thats not how a good girl asks. not even a please? now that’s not very polite, is it? i’m starting to think you don’t deserve it.” you whine shaking your head. “no no i’m sorry! please… please kiss me?” you look up at her desperately. “aww you want a kiss that bad?” she coos cupping your cheek, smirking at the heat of it against her hand. you nod fast, leaning into her touch, totally submitting to her.

“use your words, tell mommy what you want.” she raises her brow, waiting for you to finally say it. your cheeks feel like they’re on fire now, heart beating faster then before as you stumble over your own words. “m-mommy?” you shyly repeat after her, eyes widening, cheeks painted red. you could see the shift in her eyes, and the way it affected her.

she closes her eyes for a little, biting her lip almost as if she’s savouring the sound of your voice calling her that. “how fucking cute.” she rests her thumb against your bottom lip, softly pulling it down. “doing such a good job begging mommy for a kiss…” you close your eyes tightly at her praise, almost whining from such a small action. she leans in, her lips just a few millimetres away from your own. you could feel her breath against your lips, covering your skin in goosebumps. she keeps one of her hands against your cheek, while the other rests against the top of the chair you’re sitting on. she gives your cheek a soft stroke before finally connecting both of your lips.

her soft plump lips smashing against yours felt like a reward. it felt like they were on fire, the way your lips burnt when she pressed her own against them. her fingers against your skin were so gentle, tracing the outline of your cheek, barely touching your skin as if you were made of glass. her lips were telling a different story as her kisses only deepened. you didn’t know what to do with your hands so you loosely griped the fabric of her blouse. she felt you fidgeting and decided to slide one of her hands down to reach for your hand, giving them a soft squeeze before wrapping them around her neck. this gave her the opportunity to drag her hands down your body as she scooped you up in her arms. without breaking the kiss she lifted you and placed you on the table next to her, making you wrap your arms around her tighter. she experimentally dragged her tongue against your bottom lip so gently, your lips parted in surprise. she smirked sneaking her tongue inside your parted lips that granted her access. you let out a little whimper at the feeling of your tongues gliding against each other. you could almost taste the bitterness of the coffee aftertaste mixing with your sweet one and for once, it was delicious. you were everything she wanted and she wanted.. needed more. eager to be closer to you, one of her hands slid down your thigh, slightly parting them as she pushed herself in between, she just couldn’t get enough. with one of her large hands hand stroking the outer side of your thigh, and other one playing with your hair you couldn’t help but shiver in her touch. it was like she was devouring you whole. your body feeling so soft and tiny pressed up against hers. it was driving her insane. she pulled away breathing heavy, admiring your flushed face and slightly messed up hair, remainders of your lipstick smeared all over your lips as you look at her with what she could only describe as hearts in your eyes.

fuck, she’s so screwed. she knows it’s over for her. you wrapped her around your pretty little finger and you didn’t even know about it. heck, you didn’t even have to do anything. you submit to her so easily and that was more then she needed. there’s no way she could just return to just being your teacher, she had to make you hers. you pout slightly as she pulls away, already reaching for her, wanting to feel her lips against yours again. you got her heart beating as hard as she made yours. subconsciously shivering in her arms. as she leans in placing gentle pecks on your lips followed by your cheeks, so much more gentle and affectionate then she was just moments ago. “mommy has to stop before she gets too greedy..” she breathes out as she cleans your messed up lips with her thumb, knowing what she meant you nod, still leaning into her touch. she pressed a final kiss to your lips before pulling you into her embrace, your head in her chest, hands soothing your back.

“let me drive you home precious, it’s way too late for you to be going out on your own.” she gently pats your head, before she realises. “you didn’t bring any jacket with you?” you shake your head at her question, once again fidgeting with your skirt, slightly swinging your feet back and forth as they dangled off the table. “i’m not letting you leave like this.” you blush looking up at her as she brings you her sweater that is much bigger on you then it is on her. she taps your arms signalling you to raise them which you do, making her smile as she dresses you up. “how cute..” she admires you for a moment, fighting back the urge to squeeze you in her arms before offering you her hand which you accept as she helps you off the table. unable to keep her hands off you, she’s smoothing her hands over your clothes in attempt to fix them. “are you ready to go, pretty girl?” she pecks your nose, grabbing her keys as she grabs your hand. you giggle nodding as your heart flutters at her treatment, clinging onto her arm, letting you guide you to her car.

of course she opened the door for you and closed it after you sat down before she got in herself. of course she told you to keep the sweater because she wants to see you in it more often. of course she told you to keep this a secret as she pecked your forehead goodbye. of course your head was filled with nothing but her as you laid in your bed, wearing nothing but her sweater as you drifted into slumber, hoping you could see her even in your dreams, the scenes from earlier on repeat. you were starting to really look forward to these private lessons..

#bada lee smut#bada lee fluff#bada lee x reader#swf2 x reader#bada lee#bada lee imagine

lemonsrosesandlavender

Jun 3

Rolan finding Tav's sketchbook and sees beautiful (and spicy) drawings of himself?

Rolan’s often noticed Tav drawing. They like to stop by the Sundries and sketch the customers, and though there’s really no need for him to man the desk when the projection’s working, he always hurries down as soon as Cal and Lia happen to mention that they’re there.

Sometimes, they’ve asked to sketch him too. They’re genuinely very good; it’s surprising to him that such powerful, warhammer-wielding arms are also capable of such dexterity. (A relief, too, since Rolan knows all too well that white lies are not his strength. More than one youthful relationship was nipped in the bud by his tactless comments, and though he’s more careful about it now, the strain shows on his face whenever he’s required to be nice about a customer’s tasteless outfit or a revolting bottle of gifted wine).

Truly, Tav is more than very good. Watching their skilled fingers weave across the page sends flickers of heat down Rolan’s spine. He did his best for so long not to admit his crush, but there’s no denying it now. What he’d like those hands to do, how he’d like to submit to their ministrations, teasing him, stroking him - Gods, he has to stop thinking about it, because his cheeks are growing a little too hot for comfort… and Tav’s eyes wander briefly down from his face to his groin -

‘Give me that,’ Rolan snaps, hastily clenching his thighs. ‘If you’re finished.’

They are finished, they tell him with a smile, though they ignore his outstretched hands and simply show him the page, grasping the edges of the notebook tight.

‘Very well done,’ Rolan concedes.

‘Helps to have such a beautiful model.’

No, no, no - he is not blushing to the temples, even if it feels like he must be. ‘Well, let me have a closer look, then.’

Tav’s smile abruptly tightens, and they shake their head, their expression suddenly closed. Rolan frowns, wrongfooted. Don’t they want him to appreciate their work? He wishes he had practised flirting more. It’s been a long time since there was someone he truly wanted to impress, and apparently he is no good at it.

‘Oh, sorry,’ they say, and laugh. ‘Don’t worry, it’s just there’s a few private notes in here, so I don’t let anyone else touch it.’

That… should not be as tempting as it is. Rolan’s fingers itch to flip through those pages. Not from any nefarious motive. He just wishes he could know them better. Beyond a wish; it’s a yearning. There are so many questions he wants to ask them, so many things he wants to know. He needs them… but he just can’t say it.

It’s not his finest moment, then, when next time they enter the shop he does not come down to greet them. Instead, as they browse the shelves, he winces at his own terrible judgement, hiding behind a convenient bookshelf, and summons a mage hand to sneak the painfully tempting book from their pocket. Even the mage hand looks embarrassed, curling up on itself as it skulks up to their open pack. It slams the offending item in his lap and poofs out of existence as if it couldn’t bear another moment in his company.

Rolan’s heart is already pounding. Just a little peak, he tells himself, and opens the book. Pages of beautiful vines and mushrooms and flowers. Owlbears and eagles. The faces of many of their companions - Wyll, Halsin, Lae’zel. His heart relaxes, and then sinks. A little disappointing, really. He should probably put it back before he does find anything… just one more page or two…

A drawing of him… another drawing of him… studies of his face and tail and claws, executed with such attention to detail he feels almost stared at, though there’s no-one here but the page. Gods, their gaze must have lingered over him for so long, to conjure such exquisitely observed visions. His neck prickles with heat, excitement building once more. Just one more page…

He nearly drops the book.

‘Zurgan!’ he curses aloud, and then slams his hand over his mouth. This picture… it’s him, barely dressed, draped in just the tiniest piece of fabric to make him decent. Although the bulge underneath it makes it rather moot. Gods… are they thinking about him like this? It’s not entirely accurate, but then they’ve never seen him with his clothes off; never seen all of the ridges that mark his Hells-touched skin. He feels undressed anyway, burning with shame and lust.

Hissing the mage hand incantation, he thrusts the book closed and shoves it back in their bag as quickly as he can. They jump a little and look round, startled; but fortunately they don’t see him. Wretched Hells. Rolan can’t even begin to piece together how he feels, but one thing is certain; his cock is ragingly hard, and he can think of nothing else until he’s hidden away in his room, crying Tav’s name aloud with such urgency he doesn’t even bother to strip off his clothes.

Gods. He slumps against the wall, robes soaked in come, and buries his face in his clean hand. He has to admit this to them. To clear the air. To ask if - he dare not ask if - but surely they want to, if they dream of him like that? But it was outrageous of them to draw him like that, without asking. The Master of Ramazith’s Tower deliberately chooses not to volunteer for any anatomical drawing classes. The very thought of disrobing like that, to be picked over and studied, humiliates him to the core; but perhaps that is also why the heat flooded him so strongly, why he came so desperately hard…

His jaw sets on a resolution. He must bring it up to them. Demand an explanation. Tell them never to imagine him like that again. Well… perhaps not that last one. Gods damn it. This is exactly why he was going to maintain a polite silence on the subject of wanting to be fucked senseless by them, for the rest of his life if necessary. It was much simpler for everyone involved.

Alas, when next they walk into the shop, his tongue quite disobeys him.

‘Hello, Rolan,’ they say cheerfully, and though they linger for a moment, they simply nod and head for the potion shelves.

‘Ah - don’t you want a model? I mean. Have you - been drawing lately?’

‘Not much in the mood for drawing today,’ they say with a smile, and his face crumples in a frustrated frown.

‘You seemed to be very enthusiastic last time,’ he snaps.

Tav’s brow furls. ‘Is there… something the matter?’

‘No,’ Rolan retorts. ‘Be on your way. I wouldn’t want to detain you any longer.’

Their hand pats up against the sketchbook in their pack. Guilty, Rolan thinks with some satisfaction. Satisfaction that dies a rapid, bloodied death as he remembers that he doesn’t want this to end in an argument. How exactly he sees it ending, he’s not sure… though his breath catches as they take a step closer and murmur under their breath.

‘Are you alright? Have I done something to upset you?’

‘No.’ Rolan bites his lip as he looks into their concerned eyes.

‘Rolan,’ they mutter, looking slightly frustrated themselves. ‘Come on.’

‘Come on what?’

Rolan stifles a groan as he says it. That did not have quite the sarcastic bite he intended. Tav’s mouth twitches in amusement, despite the situation.

‘Come on, I know you well enough by now. You’re not happy with me.’

‘Are you sure you don’t need a model?’ he snaps. ‘A… nude… one perhaps?’

He can feel the heat scorching him again, but the words are out now. And Tav looks immediately, uncharacteristically embarrassed.

‘Oh fuck.’

‘Oh fuck, indeed,’ he mutters.

‘Rolan - I’m so sorry. But, wait, how did you know? Did you - that was what I felt last time I was here!’

‘Ah.’ He winces, and then hastens to get the next word in. ‘It’s your fault. You should never have brought it in here. You should never have drawn me like that!’

‘You shouldn’t have looked through my sketchbook!’ Tav fires back, but even before they finish, their face twists with guilt. ‘Look. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have drawn you like that. And I certainly never meant for you to see it.’

Rolan slumps a little from his defensively sharp posture, his arms loosening from their crossed shield around his chest. ‘Apology accepted. I suppose.’

‘Why did you look?’ Tav asks gently.

He rakes his claws over his bicep. ‘I… I wanted… I mean… I thought that picture was…’

There’s a distinct whisper of rushed breaths, coming from his own mouth, and they distract him. What was he trying to say?

‘I wanted to know you.’

‘You can always ask. Whatever you want to know, I’ll always want to tell you.’

‘You didn’t ask me!’

‘You’re right,’ they say quietly. ‘I should go.’

‘Wait. Don’t go. Is there… anything you want to…’

‘Ask you now?’ they interrupt, a flirtatious smile suddenly stealing onto their face. ‘Why, is there something you want me to?’

Rolan opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and closes it again. ‘Well, if you’re going to be difficult.’

‘Who’s being difficult? You know you could ask me, if you wanted me to do something. Like… draw you naked.’

Rolan finds himself leaning back on the counter for support, ruffling a pile of Prestidigitation pamphlets so thoroughly that several of them breeze to the floor.

‘Ah - I… would have to think about it.’

Tav stands up from collecting the pamphlets, and somehow they’re just a little bit closer than they were before, their mouth so temptingly close -

‘Yes!’ Rolan says suddenly. ‘Yes - I want you to draw me like that. Please.’

‘Hmm. Then I will. With pleasure. Is there anything else you’d like?’ Tav asks teasingly.

‘Well…’ Rolan starts, and never finishes, because somehow they’re kissing in the middle of Sorcerous Sundries, his claws seizing handfuls of Tav’s shirt and their dexterous fingers already curling in his hair. A few, rather surprised, murmurs and giggles break out amongst the customers.

‘Fuck,’ he gasps, and then corrects himself. ‘I mean. Zurgan. Let me -’

They almost fall through the arcane portal he conjures to his bedroom.

‘Go on then,’ Tav murmurs, pulling out their sketchbook. ‘Show me what I’m working with.’

#rolan#cabbage answers#thank you for the prompt!#rolan x tav#gn tav#bg3 rolan#smut#only a bit ;)

the-bitter-ocean

Sep 3

(ACT 2 SPOILERS) Writing I did for @startagainaprologue because he talked about the idea of Claude and Euphrasie having a conversation in pre canon regarding the country being frozen and how to prepare for the worst case scenario ( which made me want to explore what that could’ve been like). For reference, (()) brackets = Euphrasie speaking and [] = Claude speaking. Writing is under the cut:

((“…I’ve gotten word that the King will be approaching us soon.”))

[ You look up from your notes and stop drawing. ]

[ You were in the middle of sketching out a couple of blueprints- dioramas and models of a bomb. ]

[ You smile and proudly show off one of your drawings to Euphrasie.]

[“Yeah I know. That’s why when he shows up I’m gonna blow him up! He’ll never see it coming.”]

[ Euphrasie smiles at you softly.]

[ The light doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s blank. Resigned. ]

[ You can tell somethings weighing on her. ]

[ “… You okay, Euphie?”]

[ Euphrasie goes quiet and plays with the hems of her gloves. ]

((“…In case one of us doesn’t make it- what do you wish to do-“))

[ …!?]

[ Oh absolutely not. ]

[ “We are going to live. Both of us, Euphie. I promise.”]

[ “If you’re not sure you can believe in anything, at least believe in that okay?”]

[ You get up from where you were sitting and walk over to her. ]

[ You take her by hands. ]

[“Everyone is giving it their all to stop the King.. whatever happens we do it together, yeah?” ]

[ “We can’t lose faith in ourselves now. I trust you and so does everyone else! We can do this.”]

(( Euphrasie tears up a little before lunging forward- sweeping you up in a hug. ))

((“.. Ahaha…! You’re right.. oh my.. that’s not very becoming of a leader at all is it..?”))

[ “… Euphie..”]

(( “.. I.. I know.. I’m sorry…”))

((“..You’re right.. if everyone hasn’t given up, then I can’t either. There’s one thing that I’d like to do, to prepare.”))

((“ It’ll take some time to research but I think it’ll be worth it. If all goes well, then the king will be defeated in no time.”))

[ Euphrasie looks more sure of herself now.]

[ Shes humming something but it's in a tune you don't seem to recognize. ]

[ Shes mumbling… so it's hard to make out any of the words. ]

(("Thank you Claude.. for being here. I love you very much, you know that?"))

[ You do. ]

[ You hope that she knows that fact now more than ever. ]

#isat#isat game#isat spoilers#in stars and time#in stars and time game#in stars and time spoilers#isat act 2 spoilers#isat act 4 spoilers#-> implied but still tagging it#isat head housemaiden#isat euphrasie#in stars and time head housemaiden#in stars and time euphrasie#isat claude#in stars and time claude#isat fanfic#in stars and time fanfic#clauphie#claude x euphrasie#the bitter ocean writes

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