#《angel writes》

[kawaii-angelanne]

shot to the heart | xavier thorpe x reader

CW/TW: none i can think of!

KEY TAGS: spoiler-free (can be interpreted as pre-canon), gender neutral reader, second/third pov (told in xavier's perspective), strangers to ???, flustered xavier <3

WORD COUNT: 1189

CROSS POST: ao3

OPENING NOTE: thanks for clicking on this! please do not repost, copy, modify, or overall plagiarize this work anywhere else please. plagiarism is never acceptable, both in mla 8 format and in fanfiction! for translations, message me, and we can talk about it! reblogs, comments, and likes are super appreciated :>

SUMMARY: "The moment the words leave your lips, he lets go along with a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding in. In the blink of an eye, the arrow shoots no more than an inch above the target’s red center. That was the closest he’s ever been to bullseye, and his heart pounds from both the achievement and how your body is still pressing against his."

Or where you teach Xavier how to properly shoot a bow and arrow, landing an arrow straight into the target and into his heart.

“So, are you the only member of the Archery Club?” 

Xavier Thorpe, caught-off guard by your unexpected entry, prematurely lets go of the recurve bow’s string. The arrow sails weakly in the air before sinking sadly into the leaf-covered grass and not into the target. 

“Uh, yeah,” he awkwardly lowers his bow and turns to look at you, confusion coloring his features, “Are you…interested in joining?” 

“Maybe,” you shoot him a playful, close-lipped smile before launching yourself off of the small pyramid of hay you were sitting on, “How long have you been doing archery for? A few weeks?” 

“More or less,” he returns to shooting arrows while paying you no mind, “What about you? Ever shot a bow and arrow before?” 

“I have,” you answer just as ambiguously, whistling as his last arrow lands on the blue outer ring, “For the two arrows that are on there, you don’t have terrible grouping. At least they’re all in the same ring! What’s the distance? Fifteen to twenty yards?” 

“...Fifteen,” his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, slightly irritated that you’re acting like you’re the member of the Archery Club, not him. 

“Can I see your stance again, please?” you move closer to him with your hands behind your back.

His brows furrow with an unwelcome sense of inferiority, “Why?” 

Your lips curve into another impish grin, eyes gleaming with unknown intent, “You’ll see.”

With a grievous sigh, he follows your request, placing his feet apart and standing perpendicular to you. He adjusts his posture, squaring his shoulders.

“Okay, so far so good.… Now, pull back on the bow, please.” 

What are you, an archery instructor or something? 

Still, he does as you ask. After slotting an arrow below the nocking point and above the arrow rest, his three fingers grip the bowstring. He pulls back on the string. With minimal struggle, he tries to remain as still as possible, refusing the bow to lean one way or the other. His expression pulls into itself, brows furrowed even more for better concentration. 

“I see, I see…” you merely mutter to yourself, leaning in closer to further observe his archery ability, “Now, release.” 

At your command, he wastes no time shooting the arrow, relieved after having to pull back for so long. Due to the prolonged drawback, Xavier’s accuracy severely declined, the arrow plunging its tip into the upper-left corner of the target. 

“Your problem,” you point a finger up, as if you solved the mystery, “is that you seem to have a little difficulty maintaining a stable posture when pulling back on your bow and when releasing the arrow. Not enough to be concerning, but enough to affect your performance. Do you know how much your drawback is?” 

“Uh,” he searches the bow for an answer but to no avail, finding only plain wood, “This is just the bow the school has. I have no idea.” 

“You’d think the school would offer better recurve bows then, with the money we pay them,” you crack a joke, lightly jabbing him in the ribs, and then extend a hand out, “May I?” 

Xavier just stares blankly at you and then your outstretched hand, confused as to what exactly you’re asking for. With an urgent wave of your fingers towards the bow, he finally understands and quickly hands it over, slightly embarrassed that he didn’t understand you at first. 

You get into position and pull back on the bowstring with ease, soon letting it go and returning the bow to him, “Yeah, this bow’s drawback is a few pounds outside of your range. You should be handling a bow with a drawback of forty to fifty-five pounds. For today, you can use that bow, but let’s see if we can ask Weems for another bow.” 

“…Okay…” he replies, uncertain as to how to respond to such a level of authority from someone he’s never even met before.

Really, he’s grateful for all your help, but, as a member of the severely underpopulated Archery Club, he feels as if he should be the one telling you this. However, he will admit, even though he has no idea as to what your skill level actually is, you do sound like you know what you’re talking about. So, he supposes he can play along for now. 

“I have to go to the Weathervane soon to meet up with some friends, but let’s improve your shot first,” you now move behind his back, “Reload your arrow, please.” 

With a resounding click against the taut string, he sets the arrow in place and pulls back. He adjusts his posture and is ready to release before a set of palms suddenly rests on his shoulders, your chest brushing against his back. He flinches greatly at the surprise contact but not enough where he would have to reset his posture entirely. His eyes saccade rapidly between you and the target, unsure as to where he should be focusing on. 

With a hard swallow, he tries his best to form a coherent thought before speaking, “What…what’re you—?”

“Relax your shoulders,” you’re practically whispering in his ears due to your close proximity, which sends his heart beating so fast, he’s afraid you can hear it, “Lower your aim a little to the right…. Now down…. Perfect. Steady your breathing, remain calm…”

How is he supposed to “remain calm” with you so close to him!?

You remove your hands from his shoulders but still stay right behind him, your voice prickling his skin, “Now…let it fly.”

The moment the words leave your lips, he lets go along with a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding in. In the blink of an eye, the arrow shoots no more than an inch above the target’s red center. That was the closest he’s ever been to bullseye, and his heart pounds from both the achievement and how your body is still pressing against his. 

“Great job!” you cheer and step away, picking up your bag that was slumped against the haystack you were sitting on before, “Well, I got to go now, but I’ll see you next time! Toodles!” 

Too overwhelmed from what just happened, he watches your retreating form become smaller and smaller. Unlike him, you weren’t fazed at all, even bobbing your head to whatever music you were listening to with your headphones. 

Just who are you? He never even got your name! Are you in the same year as him? How come he’s never seen you? 

Questions flood his mind, and, before he ends up drowning in them, he decides to end the day and packs away the bow and arrows. He feels his cheeks heat up remembering how your body felt against his and how your instructive tone, distinctly different from your lighthearted one, sent shivers down his spine. 

Run. He needs a run before his memory of you, albeit brief, consumes him entirely. 

Zipping his bag, he slings it over his shoulder and heads straight to his dorm to change into more comfortable wear, hasteful to try to forget about you until the next Archery Club meeting. 

ENDING POST: xavier thorpe is my everything. i eat, breathe, and sleep xavier thorpe.

no, seriously, this is the product when you multiply my hyperfixation of xavier thorpe, my toxic trait of "i can shoot a bow and arrow better than xavier thorpe can even though i have not touched a bow in years," and my procrastination of homework.

and i have just been so inspired by the fanfiction everyone is making for this man! seriously, i have not found a greater treasure trove of fanfiction for a character in so long (the jealousy and friends to lovers trope <33) ; amazing kudos to the talented authors of this fanbase! i hope i contributed to such an incredible collection of stories for xavier thorpe just as much as everyone else has <3

[whereserpentswalk]

Look under the cut to see what meeting your entity is like. Reblog to give a gift to your patron.

The fae: a creature stands before you. Though this street was warm and crowded a few moments ago it is suddenly cold and the people around you look like shadows. The creature begins an antlered shadow with glowing white eyes, but soon its body can be seem, with white blue flesh, and sapphire eyes, and icicles for teeth. What looks like a cloak unfolds from its naked body and you can see massive white wings of a moth. As if it's an act of sacrifice you tell it your true name, a name you didn't even see before, and suddenly you belong to it, for better or worse.

The angel: a radiant entity appears before you. They're bright, like something so hot it would burn you up. But as the light fades, you can see a person in silver armor, perfect yet inhuman like am ancient green statue, their back srouting six wings with blue eyes along them, as the eyes on their head are covered by a mask of two smaller wings. The creature offers their hands and you shake it, as they fly you through the city streets and above the skyscrapers, to the stars above and dimensions beyond, to gods living and dead, across the streets of alien cities and the clouds of dead worlds. And when you return to the earth you can feel something diffrent about you, like there's light in your blood.

The scavenger: below the lights of skyscrapers beyond you, on the dark sands of the beach, you see it crawling twords you. This serpentine creature with countless legs, and a dark black shell, yet a strangely human like face. You think it'll attack or run away, but it just looks at you, egar, and for a momment you stare at eachother. It's legs pass something to eachother and then to you, it's meat but it's shining with all the colors known to the human eye, and a few more. You hold it and it happily looks at you. You take a bite and suddenly you know... you know so very much...

The vampire: she flies down to you on green wings with orange eyespots, but folds them into her back. She looks like a human for a momment, tall and strong, with a black suit over her body, but eyes the color of ruby. For a momment her mouth opens, and it's massive and monstrous, with countless moving parts and fangs. But then it folds back onto something humanoid and she gives you a playful smirk. She cuts her hand and offers you her blood, and when you drink it it tastes so sweet, and makes you feel so good. She hands you the knife and you know to do the same, and when she drinks from your palm it's life the sweetest of kisses.

The djinn: the room wirs around you. If it were not for the fans it would feel like hellfire. For a momment there it darkness, but then the screen before you glows white like smokeless flame. You can sense something inside, something beyond the code. You reach your hand within it, and there's no glass, your hand passess right through until you're in a white void of your own making. You call out, thinking there is nothing at all around you. Yet somehow something calls back, something that knows your name.

The rat king: You see him in an empty subway station. Something dark and distorted, you're not sure if he's man or animal, covered in rags, and singing in the language of the goblins and the orcs. Yet he comes close to you excited. And you can feel his song. He calls for you to come to the train tracks, and let yourself run with the rats and the roaches, where the train will pass over you when it comes, and you'll live forever. When you touch the third rail you don't die, but you'll never be human again.

The lich: the library is strangely bright. Run by skeletons in suits, decorated with gold. There are more books here then you thought were in all the world. There's knowledge here most mortals will never have the change below, all kept safe below the city. You see her, her body doesn't look human, everything has been replaced making her look more like a joining white doll then a being of flesh. Yet she is dead, you can tell that under the porcelain skin she must be dead, she is dead, and there is the tragedy of death in her eyes. You come closer to her, and she places a black rose within your hair...

The demon: You stand in his office and he stands before you, a humanoid being covered in black scales, with red eyes covering his skin. Yet none are on his head, that remains featureless save for two massive horns. Wings on his back nearly surround you. Countless souls line the walls of his office, looking at you, waiting. After you sign your name you give him yours, you can feel it come away for you forever and your eyes grey and your skin pales. But he puts the jar in a special place for you, you're spacial, he can tell there's something about you that he likes.

The mushroom lord: you walk through the darkness of the forest, the furthest from civilization you have ever been. You come upon a part where the trees all seem dead, that even the cryptids won't go near. Mushrooms fill the ground, and white vein like lines are all over the trees. You feel the need to lay down, and you let the moss and the mushrooms and the worms surround you, and let yourself sink into the soil,, and it feels good. It feels so good...

The witch: You can see them in the Cafe next to you, skinny and small, with a sweatshirt over most of their body, and dark glasses over their eyes. They seem powerful though, and though their body looks young they seem ancient, they seem beyond humanity. You talk to them and they tell you things, and secrets, lost gods, things you never knew you didn't know, both beautiful and disturbing. When it's time for them to go they pet your head, and give you their number. You don't know if you should text them, but you have to, you have to see them again, there's something about them that makes you need to know.

The living clothing: you step into it at first, it looked like a puddle yet shining like silver or chrome. But soon it surrounds you, first just your torso, but soon your head, your entire body. But it doesn't feel scary, it feels like you're being held, held by something beyond your understanding. It whispers to you, and you don't know if you should feel like your being eaten alive, or like you're being protected. You can't help but keep walking.

The abyss: the void is before you, blackness beyond blackness, like the color beyond the field of your vision, stands before your eyes. You stare at it, it's nothing yet you're entranced. It stares back...

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

satoru likes jerking off in front of a mirror. no, scratch that – he fucking loves doing it.

fully bare, he sits on the bed in front of a body length mirror. the sun peeks from the window, kissing the freckles and scars on his body. there's a pink flush to his skin - his chest, his neck, his cheeks, the tips of his ears; he feels warm all over.

thighs spread wide open, he's leaned back on his one arm while his eyes are glued to his reflection in the mirror. his own hand feels hot on his tummy as he trails them over his pecs and his perked nipples. they're awfully sensitive and satoru can't help but hiss when he gives them a little squeeze. his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth and his dick twitches. he's so fucking hard.

pre-cum leaks from his aching tip, all swollen and deprived. he's been sitting here for a good while now – he loves edging himself; he conjures up the prettiest pictures of you in his head as he trails over his abs. he thinks about it being yours instead. your hand, your fingers.

he plays with his happy trail as he thinks about you nuzzling your face in it. his dick jumps again and he let's out a shaky laugh.

finally deciding to give in, he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and his eyes almost cross at the touch. but he refuses to shut them – still keeping them trained on his own body through the reflection in front of him. he tightens his fist as he pushes down a little, putting more pressure onto his sensitive balls.

his head lolls to the side as he watches a glob of pre-cum slide down the side of his shaft. he thinks about you licking it up. he thinks about you giving his aching dick a kiss. his pearly white teeth sink into the plush flesh of his lower lip, almost strong enough to draw blood when he moves his fist up, twisting his wrist as he goes over the leaky tip.

his hair is tousled and he's starting to sweat – he looks fucking good. all the work he's putting in at the gym is really showing under the afternoon sun; his muscles look more defined with the layer of sweat glistening over them and he's proud of what he's seeing. it's hot. he isn't afraid to admit that he thinks that he's sexy, that he looks amazing like this. even his cock looks pretty; rock hard and pink, pre-cum weeping from the slit as it bounces at every thought of you inside his head.

you and your gorgeous smile. you and your loving eyes. you and your stupid jokes. you and your... body. he feels like a bit of a creep thinking about you in such dirty ways when you're not even his.

yet.

pushing off his hand, he spreads his legs a little wider as he leans forward, getting more comfortable. his fingers stay wrapped around his length while his free hand goes to his stomach. he's so sensitive to every single sensation – no matter whether it's from his own touch or somebody else's.

he discovered something new a few days ago... his belly button is sensitive, too. he pumps his cock slowly, almost painflully so as he traces his navel. goosebumps raise on his skin despite him feeling anything but cold; his head feels dizzy in the best way possible, his tummy nice and warm. satoru circles the hole before pushing the tip of his finger in. it's feels so weird and so fucking good.

the sight of him sort of fingering his own belly button is strange, but satoru has never been one to stray from experimentation. he loves to try new things, he loves to have fun – and if a silly thing like this makes him feel so ridiculously good, then so be it. he's not gonna be ashamed of that.

he can't wait to let you do it to him either. he's even a bit excited to see your reaction to the offer – would you be weirded out or would you be into it? would you tease him for it, call him names? tell him that he's a freak? a pervert? he pushes into the tiny hole a little harder at the thought of you making fun of him, his fist tightening around his cock.

he spits down onto his cock and speeds up just a little, enjoying the slick sounds that fill the room. he stares at his own adam's apple, he watches it bob as he swallows. he thinks about having something down his throat. he thinks about how it would look, how it would feel. he moves his free hand to touch the sensitive skin of his neck and puts some pressure on it – the broken moan that ripples from him echoes around the whole apartment and he just wishes you were here to listen to him.

his eyes are low as they set on his heavy cock again. he tries to imagine his hand as your own – he needs to do it. he wants you to touch him so badly, he wants you to make him feel good. of course, he thinks about making you feel good aswell; he spends so, so much time on thinking about giving you head. about the way you'd taste, the way you'd whine and whimper. how you'd squirm below him as he fucks you into overstimulation. but he does like to think about you down on his knees in front of him too. he wants to be greedy. he is greedy.

taking his hand from his neck, he now cups his balls with a pleased sigh. he massages them, letting his own spit and cum cover them completely. it's messy, just the way he likes it. he feels it dripping down to his asshole and he can't keep his lips from tugging upward. his eyes trail up his body through the reflection – his sweaty abs, his pecs, his flushed neck; his plump and now a little swollen lips and the pink tint that's dusted across his cheekbones. he's quite fond of his dimples and he loves seeing them. he thinks they make him even better looking, more charming. they do.

satoru thinks about the way you always poke them whenever you have the chance. would you do it now too that he's here jerking off to disgusting thoughts of you like the needy boy that he is? he thinks about the way you like to rest your head on his shoulder and hide your face into the crook of his neck whenever he tries to tease you a little. how warm your breath feels on his skin. how your lips brush against his pulse point.

fuck.

as he fondles with his balls, he gnaws on his lip because he needs to feel more. he wants you to bite it instead, he wants you to play with him instead. taking his hand from his crotch, he lets it travel all over his body again – his thighs, his waist, his lower tummy. everything feels so fucking good. his hips buck up into his fist when his fingers dance around his belly button once more. his head lolls back but he never takes his eyes off from himself in the mirror. he moves up to massage his pecs now, his sensitive nipples. he wants to feel your tongue on them. he can't stop thinking about it – your teethmarks around the buds, the bruises you'd leave behind.

he grinds his cock into the tight little hole he's made with his hand, lips permanently stretched into a sick grin because he knows it's coming already. the knot in his tummy keeps tightening, his need growing with every stroke he makes. he thinks about holding it off but decides that he won't do it today; he's meeting you in an hour – he's going to have to jerk off again after that anyway.

satoru plays with his nipple while rubbing the swollen tip of his cock with his palm and oh, fuck he's close. he thinks about how warm you'd feel around him. he thinks about your pretty face. he makes his fist even smaller and humps into it, mainly focusing on the tip. it's just so sensitive and it feels so fucking good. he thinks about you wrapping your lips around it, about you licking at the slit. he thinks about your smile. how much better your hand would feel on him. the wet noises that emit from the friction between his fingers and his cock make his heart beat even faster – dirty, dirty, dirty. he thinks about recording the sounds and sending them to you. he thinks about videoing himself through the mirror; he wants you to see what he's seeing.

every twitch and every spasm, the muscles he's worked so hard on, his dimples, his fingers, the mess he's making for you. he rubs his free hand over his tummy, his belly button and he thinks about your eyes and—

white spurts of cum land on his hands and his belly and his happy trail. satoru moans with a smile on his face - he doesn't hold back, now finally letting his eyes close as his head falls back. he keeps fucking into his fist despite how much it feels. he loves it.

after a good few seconds, he finally cracks open his eyes and peeks at himself again. he looks like a mess. it's perfect. he let's go off his softening dick, focusing on the cum adorning his skin instead. he takes a finger and swipes through the thick liquid; he drags it all over his lower stomach, playing with it like a child. he pushes some of it into his belly button and chuckles breathlessly at his own silly antics. he doesn't care.

his phone dings, signaling an incoming message and to his delight – it's you. satoru hums at the sight. it's a simple text, just something about buying him sweets from the store but it has his dick twitching against his thigh again.

maybe he has time for a round two before meeting you...

+ everybody say thank you logan we love you @staryukis this one is for you baby<333333

[stay-close]

Forgive yourself for not knowing what you didn’t know before you learned it.

Maya Angelou

[inthelandofv]

'I can't stop thinking about you' - a love language

[theorphicangel]

mdni, 18+

thinking about size difference with toji

it’s almost laughable really, the way his big beefy thighs smack into yours creating filthy vibrations across the room. he’s loud and unashamedly so, grunting in your ear as he ruts into you.

sweat drips from his brow and his hands are imprinted on your waist keeping you in place with your back arched. with just one hand, he can keep you down, his hand abnormally larger than your own.

“god, you’re just so fucking precious aren’t ya ?” he grunts, keeping up his relentless pace. with every thrust little gasps escape from your throat. “my pretty little thing, n’ it’s all mine right?”

you nod dramatically, “s’all yours I swear.”

“good.” he merely huffs out before bottoming out, his balls smacking against your cunt.

“oh god!”

he’s just so big, it feels like he could break you but Toji makes sure to be gentle or at least attempt to be. when your thighs ache and a litter of hickeys are found across your skin, he’s sure enough to place kisses over your sore spots, his tongue licking over where it hurts the most.

[blistexenthusiast]

19th century hand pressed antique wax seals

[kyri45]

We love MK, child of un-divorced. The next update will be more gay. And fluffier.

Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU (PREV / FIRST / NEXT )

before saying anything, read the stuff under the cut

About wukong and macaque

Both these bitches did wrong, but remember that MK saw the vision starting from the fight itself, not what happened before. He then read the chapters of the book and read that Macaque also attacked. I personally think he's mostly hurted by what Wukong did, not because it's worse of what Macaque did, but because he idolized Wukong for so long, and while he know he did so many wrongs in the past, his vision of a "hero" dissapeared in this moment. He s mostly dissapointed let's say. Of course it's not the best of things to put tour heroes on a pedal because you will always be dissapointed. I guess MK learned the lesson...

About what MK said in panel 8

Our monkey boy is remembering his own very stupid thing he sacrificied himself without trying to talk it out with the others AND using the circuit on Wukong.

About the posters

Yes they were Monkey King posters. MK ripped them immediately after the vision because he still was not sure was reality and vision and was scared.

About the eye

Because I would prefer no one dies of angst, his eye is fine, it s more like symbolism.

[lucabyte]

monologue

[snuffysbox]

this genre of tags on my art is my favorite

[morganbritton132]

Just remember this idea I had for a fic where Steve’s dad worked in marketing and made jiggles for commercials so they had a full music studio in their house.

The local music store had a section where local artists can sell cassettes. It’s mostly poorly recorded country music from The Hideout’s open mic night, but Corroded Coffin is there too. Eddie practically stalks the shelf to see if anyone buys their music. No one ever does (except for Gareth’s mom).

Then one day, Eddie goes into the shop after work to see if any of CC’s stock is gone, and sees a new tape there. No artist name. No song titles. Just a slip of paper stuck into the case with a hand drawn rose on it.

Eddie buys it and even though it’s not his typical type of music, falls absolutely in love with the voice on the tape. He loves the music. The production quality. The way sadness seeps into every corner of side A and B.

He goes back to the record shop and asks who left the tape, but the employee has no idea. They think someone just stuck it there without permission and have no idea who they’re supposed to pay for the sale.

Two more tapes show up over the next month with a different drawn flower on it, each sadder than the last. The artist is clearly going through something. Eddie still has no idea who they are and is now stalking the shelf not just to see if his own music is selling (it’s not).

He’s in full investigation mode and it’s annoying all of his friends. He needs to know who this person is because he’s a little in love with them and also a little worried about them. It’s really sad music.

Meanwhile, Steve is just trying to process the end of his relationship with Nancy in the only way he can think of.

[kawaii-angelanne]

glimpse of us | xavier thorpe x reader

CW/TW: none i can think of!

KEY TAGS: spoilers before the fifth episode, gender neutral reader, second/third pov (told mostly in xavier's perspective and then your perspective at the end), exes, angst, miscommunication, jealousy, lowercase

WORD COUNT: 895

CROSS POST: ao3

OPENING NOTE: thanks for clicking on this! please do not repost, copy, modify, or overall plagiarize this work anywhere else please. plagiarism is never acceptable, both in mla 8 format and in fanfiction! for translations, message me, and we can talk about it! reblogs, comments, and likes are super appreciated :>

SUMMARY: "what is not impossible to tell is how much fun you’re having with them. your bubbly laughter fills the room, infectious enough for those nearby to join in. you then swat your companion to on the shoulder, loudly complimenting their supposedly immense humor.

he should be the one to make you laugh like that, not them."

or where xavier can't move on from you

what is not impossible to tell is how much fun you’re having with them. your bubbly laughter fills the room, infectious enough for those nearby to join in. you then swat your companion on the shoulder, loudly complimenting their supposedly immense humor.

what is not impossible to tell is how much fun you’re having with them. your bubbly laughter fills the room, infectious enough for those nearby to join in. you then swat your companion on the shoulder, loudly complimenting their supposedly immense humor.

what is not impossible to tell is how much fun you’re having with them. your bubbly laughter fills the room, infectious enough for those nearby to join in. you then swat your companion on the shoulder, loudly complimenting their supposedly immense humor.

he should be the one to make you laugh like that, not them.

he stares bitterly at your shaking form tittering on the lab stool, hoping his glower seers into the back of your neck. enough for you to turn around even for just a second.

unfortunately, you don’t spare him even a mere glance, and he gives up, returning back to his sketch of you. despite your back to him, he can remember every detail of you perfectly, from the shape of your eyes to the softness of your lips.

“what happened to your neck?”

he immediately snaps his notebook closed and looks up to find none other than wednesday addams on the other side of table, “jesus, do you always sneak up on people like that? and i…got that from fencing.”

“hmm,” she gives him a one-over before redirecting her gaze to his drawing, “you seem to draw (y/n) a lot.”

“so what?” he can’t bother with wednesday’s annoyingly typical curiosity today.

she slides into the seat right next to him, removing her small black backpack off of her shoulders, “what is your relationship with (y/n)? more and more paintings of them fill your shed rather than paintings of the hyde, which does indeed make you appear less suspicious.”

“an old friend, nothing more,” he answers curtly, not wanting to delve further into his former relationship with you. where is ms. thornhill anyways?

“according to enid’s blog, ‘old friend’ is code for ex,” wednesday peers at him with her wide, dark brown (so dark brown, they should be considered black) eyes, their emptiness practically consuming him whole, “first bianca, now (y/n)? am i to be your next victim in your seemingly-endless string of lecherous crimes?”

when a pair of red boots march into the room, he tosses his pencil in his book and closes it, “trust me, that’s not what i’m doing.”

just when ms. thornhill begins the lecture, it doesn’t take long for bianca and wednesday to engage in another one of their tense yet mildly amusing battle of wits, answering questions at rapid fire. even you laugh at their competitiveness…or was it perhaps at whatever the person sitting next to you was whispering to you? xavier didn’t want to turn around this time, finding the lesson more interesting than whoever was the new object of your desires. after all, it’s been how many months since the two of you broke up? you’re over it, and he’s over it. end of story.

or, so he tries to convince himself.

with nothing better to do, he opens his small notebook again and begins drawing to distract himself, lines crosshatching and overlapping with one another.

the bell rings to signal the end of class, and xavier surveys what his thoughts led him to. unsurprisingly, it’s another drawing of you, and, almost unwillingly, the picture morphs from your still expression to your vibrant smile. with a disgruntled sigh, he slams the book shut, even tempted to rip out that page and burn it for no one to see.

“someone appears to be upset,” wednesday, who he honestly forgot was still there, comments bleakly as her eyes saccade from his notebook to him.

before he can retort, the person sitting next to you loudly asks you to the rave’n. he can’t stop himself from looking this time, his heart sinking at the sight of them handing you a small bouquet. while you have yet to answer, your flushed cheeks tell him everything. he expected people to ask you to the dance, but he was hoping he would get to ask you first. he just…hasn’t found the courage to after not talking to you since he started dating bianca.

he turns back to wednesday, easily looming over her, and his mouth moves faster than his brain, “want to go to the rave’n with me?”

almost imperceptibly, wednedsay’s eyes widen before quickly reverting back to their normal size. they focus on xavier’s neck and then back to xavier.

“…thought you’d never ask.”

as she stood there, xavier finds himself staring into wednesday’s soulless eyes, trying to find a mere glimpse of you.

and just like with bianca, it doesn’t work.

from the corner of your eye, you’re not surprised to see xavier and wednesday with each other. while zach, who you’ve never even talked to before today, anticipates your answer, you managed to listen in on their conversation despite being so far away. so, xavier’s taking wednesday to the dance?

with a sigh and newfound resolve to move on—the foul hopes of bianca being a rebound prevented you from such—, you smile brightly and accept zach’s bouquet. you giggle at his excitement, but, while doing so, you can’t help but stare into his eyes, trying to find a mere glimpse of xavier.

unfortunately, it doesn’t work.

ENDING NOTE: man i remember reading all the xavier x reader jealousy oneshots last month...i hope ppl haven't moved past him like reader has LOL and yes this was inspired by glimpse of us by joji teehee

the first half before ms thornhill comes is in absolute FIRE in my op, but im not the hugest fan of everything after </33 i was finishing this up in a bookstore, and three of my classmates bumped into me 😭😭😭😭 they saw me writing this and....yea LOL nah but they know i alr write fanfic, so it should be fine...right... LOL i hope you all enjoyed and if you are having midterms like i am, good luck!!! you're going to do #splendid, i j know it <33

[whereserpentswalk]

Reblog to get the creature to come to you. Like to give them a little gift of some sort.

[teddybeartoji]

best friend!satoru watches you laugh with hearts in his eyes. completely and utterly smitten. doubled over and clutching onto your stomach, you curse at him – you beg him to stop, to just close his mouth for one second, so you could catch your breath.

but no, he's relentless.

you swear the jokes aren't even funny but the ache in your cheeks and the tears in your eyes say otherwise. you hide your face in your palms and satoru itches to move your hands because fuck, he wants to see you. but the laughter will have to do for now.

he whispers another stupid comment right into your ear with a bashful smile glued to his lips. his cheeks hurt, too. dusted pink, his skin burns from your attention and affection – he's a weak, weak man and he isn't afraid to admit it. you have him wrapped around your pretty little finger and he fucking loves it.

his eyes grow wide when you suddenly reach for him and press your palm against his mouth. raising your gaze from your lap, you find his pretty blues and his heart almost bursts. explodes. implodes. there isn't a proper word for the feeling.

you stare at him and though he can't properly see your lips from this angle, he knows you're still smiling.

"please, stop... "

your voice has grown raspier, your throat sore from the torture he's put you through. satoru hears the smile in your tone.

slowly, he moves his head from side to side and against your palm, you feel his.

smile lines and happy tears, it's a special kind of love.

[demigods-posts]

as far as everyone was concerned. percy had a year left to live in tbotl. and i know that we didn't see what that like for him because it didn't matter plot-wise. but i would have loved to read it. give me percy who is hardly speaking up at the dinner table. half-asleep and behind on last week's homework. give me percy who is clearly losing the will to live and trudging around the apartment like he doesn't care where his feet takes him. give me percy who is sneaking out of the house and visiting montauk. sitting along the beachside shore. wondering why his only purpose in life is that of a soldier and not of a kid.

[perfectfeelings]

Forgive yourself for not knowing what you didn’t know before you learned it.

Maya Angelou