#Artie likes getting under his skin

[ravenpoefan]

[mothdruid]

All the Work

pairing: art donaldson x patrick zweig x afab!reader

summary: you are Art's tutor, Patrick is a bad influence and always crashes your tutor sessions. but today you're more than okay with it.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, oral sex (female and male receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, pet name (princess and baby), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n: finally! some challengers fic!! these two have moved into my brain and refuse to leave! I hope you all enjoy!! @gretagerwigsmuse here you go babes (this is barely proofread btw, so sorry)

When you offered to tutor Art Donaldson you thought that would be it. You hadn’t been expecting his nosy and obnoxious friend. They felt like polar opposites when you looked at them. The soft and reserved Art, who seemed to be careful about the words he said to you and texted you. But Patrick was careless and all consuming, a wildfire engulfing everything in it’s path. If Patrick was at the apartment while you were there no studying got done. Art would simply shrug and just offer a smile before joining Patrick in whatever nonsense he was doing.

Which was currently happening, both downing beers and watching animal planet.

Art and Patrick were on the couch, Patrick’s arm thrown over the back with Art leaning towards him but leaving a small amount of space between them. As much as you wanted to just call it quits and leave you didn’t, something kept you in the apartment, a gravitational pull of sorts. Instead you remained at the kitchen table, books and papers that you and Art abandoned still covering it.

You only started paying attention to the program about half way through. It was about mating rituals for some animals. Patrick had something to say about every single one, Art chiming in every now and then with a joke or to agree with Patrick.

“Can you imagine that shit?” Patrick took a swig of his beer, “Dancing around and putting on a show to get laid, that’d be embarrassing.”

Art chuckled at his comments. You simply rolled your eyes.

“Isn’t that what you guys already do?” You added.

“She speaks!” Patrick teased, turning around to face you.

His arm was still across the back of the couch, his bicep flexed a little. Art simply rolled his head back to try and look at you, blonde curls moving against his forehead. You looked at them, noticing something different in their gazes, something that made your insides churn and warm.

“Isn’t that what you two play tennis for? Look good and strong so people fawn over you?”

Art looked over and smiled at Patrick, who was currently putting on his best ‘deep in thought’ look. Patrick eventually clicked his tongue and gave you a boyish grin.

“Yeah, I guess it is. Right, Art?” Patrick looked over to Art, grin still wide.

“I- I don’t know if I’d say that,” Art murmured loud enough for you to hear it.

“Come on now, Artie,” Patrick took a drink of his beer, “tell the girl what she wants to hear. We play tennis for the ladies, not because we enjoy it or anything.”

There was a bite in Patrick’s voice that time, one that you blamed the beer for. Art was only on his second beer, but Patrick was probably on his fourth or fifth. You rolled your eyes once more, turning to try and focus on the assignments once more. You hated the way that Patrick was able to crawl under your skin, find that one spot that always got your anger bubbling. But then Art would be there later, when he walked you to your car apologizing, telling him that he won’t let it happen again, even if you know it’s a lie. When you peaked back at them Art was leaning into Patrick, who was whispering something into his ear. You looked away, not wanting to become more frustrated with the situation.

“Hey,” it was Art this time, “come sit with us, forget the homework.”

Art was practically hanging off the back of the couch now. His chest was pressed to the cushions, arms hanging out while making grabby hands towards you. Patrick’s arms were out of sight now, only his chin resting on the back of the couch. They seemed to have traded personalities at that moment, Patrick looking small while Art was begging for you. You stared at them for a moment, eventually letting out a huff and a ‘fine’.

Art and Patrick high fived while you were walking over. They scooted apart a little, leaving just enough space for you to fit between them. It wasn’t a lot of room, your thighs touching both Patrick and Art’s. Heat was radiating from them, seeping through your skin to melt and entangle with the heat forming in your body. The concoction was already intoxicating and you had only had a sip of their body heat, nothing more. Patrick slid an arm across the back of the couch, leaning in a little closer to you. Art cradled his can of beer in his lap, also leaning in a tiny amount closer to you.

“Can you imagine that?” Patrick’s voice got low.

The program that was on had started talking about animals who had a more carefree mating style. Hyenas, Bonobos, and many others. Animals who engaged in polygamy and more. It was currently talking about the Bonobo, a primate that happily engaged in orgies, threesomes, and even more at times.

“I’m not sure,” you started, “it seems like a lot of work.”

The concoction of heat was rising up through your body. Patrick looked at you with a little smirk, not a devilish one like he normally did. Art’s hand grazed your thigh, grabbing your attention from Patrick. All your annoyance from before had melted away when you saw Art’s eyes. There was only a small ring of blue around his blown out pupils. The back of his fingers continued to ghost over the material of your leggings, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. It was trance like, hypnotic blue eyes with the rhythm of his fingers. The heat of Patrick’s breath ghosted over your neck now. You weren’t sure when he had moved your hair to expose your skin.

“What if we did all the work instead?”

When you turned to Patrick his nose grazed your cheek, lips incredibly close to yours. You could barely make out the color of his eyes with him this close, a glimpse of a bluish green color was all you could make out. One of his hands drifted up your shoulder, his fingertips ghosting up in a similar manner to Art’s but along your neck. Patrick’s touch was scalding hot, turning that bubbling heat inside of you into something more explosive.

The kiss was sloppy, Patrick’s tongue pushing past your lips immediately. You could taste the cheap beer and a hint of cigarette on his tongue. His hand cupped the side of your face as the rhythm continued. You leaned a little further into Patrick, his free hand moving to cup your chest. Your right hand grabbed at Patrick’s thigh, needing to ground yourself in the smallest amount. At the same time, Art’s hand started to knead the meat of your thigh, gently guiding your thighs open at the same time.

A whimper left you, Patrick consuming and silencing it. Art’s hand had found the apex of your thighs, rubbing against your clothed cunt. The sensation spurred you to kiss Patrick with a bit more force, your breast pressing tightly into Patrick’s hand. Art continued to send muted waves of pleasure with each roll of his wrist. Your hips started rolling to meet Art’s movements, wanting more and more. You broke away from Patrick, turning to meet Art’s gaze again.

“Art,” you whimpered.

Patrick had already attached himself to your neck, eyes watching the two of you. You reached out with your left hand for Art, him immediately moving forward to meet it. Your lips collided with Art’s while you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. Your other hand had found its way into Patrick’s dark curls, tugging lightly as you let him continue to lap at your skin. Your body moved in tandem with the two of them.

Patrick moved a little behind you to let your back meet his chest fully. The hand you had in his hair slipped down to the hand kneading your chest, covering it and mimicking his motions. Patrick’s other hand moved down the side of your body, pulling up the hem of your shirt to expose some skin for both him and Art. The hand between your thighs moved up, fingertips grazed your skin. Patrick’s hand left your breast, fully grabbing your shirt and pulling it further up your torso. That was when the kiss broke. Art’s lips slightly agape as he stared at you, eyes flicking between you and Patrick.

“This okay?” Patrick whispered, pulling your shirt further up.

Art’s fingers spread over your skin, eyes trained on you. You kept your eyes locked with Art’s as you grabbed both of Patrick’s hands, guiding your shirt up further and exposing your bralette to them. Patrick chuckled and finally rid you of your shirt completely. After tossing your shirt to the side, Patrick cupped both of your breasts and tugged on your nipples over the material. A moan escaped you at the sensation of the flimsy material pinching into your nipples under Patrick’s fingers.

“That’s it, let it out,” Art encouraged.

You pushed against Patrick’s grip again, arching your back and pushing your ass back into his hardening cock. You hadn’t realized the feeling of his cock on your lower back and ass immediately, having been so caught up in your own pleasure. Patrick let out a groan when he felt you grind your ass back into him. Art’s cheeks were flushed as he sat there and watched the two of you.

“Fuck,” Art groaned. He grabbed at his own hardened cock, jerking himself off over his shorts.

Patrick’s lips grazed the skin of your shoulder for a moment, only for him to bite the strap of your bralette and guide it down your shoulder. The hand for that mesh cup pulled it down, exposing your tit fully. Art’s mouth was on your tit immediately, tongue caressing and flicking your hardened nipple. Moans fell from your lips, Patrick’s cheek on your shoulder as he watched Art and guided your other bralette strap down.

Blue eyes were staring up at you, or maybe they were looking at Patrick. As you watched Art lav at your sensitive bud, Patrick’s hand came around to thread through Art’s hair, tugging lightly on the blonde curls and earning a moan from him. The vibrations from Art’s moans went straight to your cunt, making it flex and tighten to nothing more than the simple sensation and sounds.

“Look at you two,” Patrick groaned, “so fucking hot.” With those words Patrick tugged on Art’s hair a little rougher and pinched your free nipple.

Art let out a whimper that time, not expecting such a harsh tug that time. You brought one hand up to Art’s hair, covering Patrick’s with your own. Slowly your hand drifted down and rested on Patrick’s wrist. After giving a quick squeeze you started guiding it down the side of Art's neck, eventually pulling it towards your center. Patrick got the hint and chuckled.

“Use your words,” Patrick growled into your skin.

“Touch me,” you whimpered out.

“Where?” Art murmured against your tit.

That’s when you felt Art’s fingers dip below the sides of your waistband.

“Touch my pussy.”

“That’s it,” Art smiled at you and started to remove your leggings and underwear.

As soon as you were bare Patrick’s fingers dove between the lips of your cunt, finding your clit immediately. Art finished removing the fabric from your ankles and pushed your legs apart, bending down to press kisses to the inside of your thighs. Art was trailing up the inside of your thighs, Patrick’s fingers continuing the movements on your clit. Both of their names were starting to fall from your lips, a gasp coming from you when you felt Art’s tongue drag over your slick cunt and roam around Patrick’s fingers. Patrick moved his hand from your tit to your hip, trying to keep you from bucking too wildly. Art’s hands slipped around your legs, keeping you even more in place for him to lick at you.

“Fuck,” Patrick groaned while rolling his hips into your ass.

Art’s tongue slipped below your clit, pushing into your entrance and lapping at the juices flowing from your. The two of them sat there worshiping you in tandem. It wasn’t long before you were falling apart for them, coming on Art’s tongue and Patrick’s fingers. Patrick stayed circling on your clit for a moment, slowly drifting lower through your folds to meet Art’s mouth. You watched with shaky breath as Patrick pushed his glistening fingers into Art’s mouth. Art groaned around them, keeping them in his mouth as Patrick guided Art back up to the both of you.

Art’s mouth was glistening when he came back up to the two of you. Your chest was still heaving, trying to regulate itself after an orgasm of such magnitude. The both of them had taken notice of that, meeting each other’s lips instead of yours. You laid there resting against Patrick’s chest as you watched them make out. It was messy, Patrick’s tongue diving into Art’s mouth to taste you. They were both moaning and groaning over your taste.

You let out a whimper to let them know that you were ready for them. It caught Art’s attention, him breaking the kiss with Patrick. Patrick didn’t let up though, trailing open mouthed kisses down Art’s jawline and neck. Art brought a hand up to your cheek and pulled you forward meeting his lips and letting you taste what was left of you on his tongue.

Patrick leaned back from the two of you for a moment, pulling off his own shirt and then finally unclasping your bra. Once both were removed he pressed his bare chest to your back. You rolled your hips back into his while reaching forward and cupping Art through his gym shorts. Patrick mouthed at your neck and shoulder, hand coming around to rub at your sensitive clit.

“I need your mouth,” Art groaned into your mouth.

You pushed up off of Patrick and moved to lay Art back against the couch. Art started taking off his shorts and boxers before your fingers even moved to the wrist band, signaling how eager he truly was for this.

His cock was prettier than you imagined, a sparse amount of sandy blonde hair framing it. You cupped his balls first, rolling them lightly and listening to his groans. You helped position Art’s legs on either side of your knees, making it easier to bend over and take him in your mouth. Art gasped the first time he felt your tongue on the soft skin of the head of his cock. You kept rolling his balls in your hand and you took him further into your mouth. Patrick could be heard moving around on the couch behind you. That’s when you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance and hands on your hips. With a moan you pushed your hips back, an urge to get Patrick to fuck you.

It was an overwhelming sensation for a moment. The thickness of Patrick’s cock was splitting you open, all while Art’s cock was heavy on your tongue. Art groaned as you took him deep into your throat unexpectedly, the tightness of your throat spurring him to thrust up a little. You moaned around him as Patrick pulled back for a moment, only to thrust forward with force. Patrick’s thrusts were pushing you further and further forward onto Art’s cock. Small gagging and gurgling noises started to come from you, drool forming around your lips. Art’s hand moved to your hair and tugged you off him for a moment.

“So fucking greedy,” Art growled. He gripped his cock by the base and tapped it on your tongue, which you happily held out for him.

“Greedy is right,” Patrick thrust a little harsh, “her pussy is so fucking tight, meant for this.”

Art guided you back onto his cock. You moaned at the taste of him on your tongue once again.

“Wanna fuck that pussy too,” Art thrust up into your mouth as he spoke.

Patrick let out a cross between a whimper and groan before he pulled out. A hand moved from your hip to the back of your neck, tightening and pulling you up off Art’s cock.

“Go on, princess, let Art fuck that pussy.”

Even though you were more than happy to be in the position you were in, that pet didn’t send thrills through you. You shot a dirty look to Patrick over your shoulder, earning that devilish smirk from him. Patrick leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“Go on, baby,” Patrick whispered to you.

Art was lightly pumping his cock when you looked back at him. A rosy flush was covering from his cheeks to his chest, which matched the red tint that his waiting cock had. You moved your legs on either side of him, planting one on the floor due to lack of room on the couch. There was barely any time to line Art up, his neediness getting the better of him. Within mere seconds of positioning yourself above him he was thrusting up into you. Art didn’t have the same girth as Patrick, but his cock still felt heavenly inside of you. And he didn’t let up.

Thrust after thrust you were a moaning mess above Art. Your hands were scrambling to find purchase on his chest. Each thrust was hitting that perfect spot inside of you. The leg that you hand on the ground was starting to shake, the ability to balance starting to allude you. Patrick moved up behind you, snaking his hands under your shaking legs. Patrick used some of his strength to take on some of your weight, allowing you to relax a little.

“Fuck!” Art groaned as you felt his abdomen tense below your touch.

Art pushed his hips tightly to where you were connected, rutting desperately to feel closer. Hot cum filled your insides, your walls clenching tightly around Art. You could feel that Patrick was still hard against your ass, reminding you of what was still to come. Art’s breath was coating your chest as you leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. During that motion Art’s cock slipped out of you, to which was quickly replaced by Patrick’s.

Patrick’s grip was tight on your hips, almost as tight as your cunt on his cock. Patrick groaned as he watched his best friend’s cum leak out of you and coat his dick. You could barely hold yourself up anymore, Art letting you rest on his chest. Patrick leaned over you, his chest covering your back once more. His thrusts were starting to become more harsh and forceful. He pressed a few kisses to your shoulder before leaning forward and meeting Art’s lips once more. After a few more thrusts both you and Patrick were coming.

The three of you laid there in a pile for a while. Patrick was softening inside of you, but still keeping both his and Art’s cum safe in you while placing kisses on your shoulder. Art was running a hand up and down Patrick’s shoulder and back. You were trailing your fingers around on Art’s chest. The program on TV had changed by that time, now showing something shark related.

Patrick hesitantly moved his hips, his dick slipping out of you. A shuddering breath left you at the feeling of their cum starting to drip out of you. You didn’t even move when you felt a shifting on the couch cushion, Patrick getting up to track down a washcloth. It felt relaxing to actually just lay there against Art, finally not having to fully focus on anything.

When Patrick returned he cleaned you up as gently as he could, or at least that was what he claimed. Art pressed a kiss to your forehead before you got up, swiping the wash cloth from Patrick. After cleaning yourself you softly wiped Art’s cock clean, then turned and cleaned Patrick’s too. Patrick stole the washcloth and took it to the bathroom again, returning to find you and Art still in the nude and cuddling in the same position. Patrick simply moved into his former position with his chest to your back. Patrick tossed the old knit blanket on the back of the couch over the three of you. All of you just watched the shark program in silence for a moment, Patrick breaking the silence.

“Hope that wasn’t too much work,” he said quietly.

Art let of a huff of amusement.

“Not when it’s the two of you.”

[fawnnpaws]

subdrop with puppy art…… hmffgghnmmgh… he’s sooo clingy to you and patrick so sweet and whiny needs so much reassurance. even like. when he comes out of it. all night he’s just so 😞🥺…. makes u and patrick melt…

ooohhhh <333 he’s so out of it - needs to be touching one or both of you at all times. it tends to happen after particularly intense playtimes, when he’s just starting to come down from however many orgasms you’ve given him. it takes time for him to resurface from his puppy headspace, but he’s still so dropped emotionally you know he’s going to stay fragile for the rest of the night. patrick gets a cool washcloth to wipe down art’s body while he clings to you. there are still tears in his pretty blue eyes, his lower lip is trembling like he’s trying to stop them from falling. you see patrick’s hand freeze when he hears art start sniffling.

“it’s okay, baby, don’t hold it in,” you say, cupping his cheek with your hand and gently rubbing your thumb back and forth across his cheekbone. he nuzzles his face into your hand and it scrunches up when his tears finally fall. in an instant, both you and patrick are enveloping him on either side, your hands cradling his head and neck and patrick’s arms looping around his waist. his head rests on your chest and patrick moves closer to spoon him from behind, pressing gentle kisses and shhh shh shhh’s into his bare shoulder.

“was - hic - was i good?” art asks, not even able to lift his head to look at either of you. he’s trembling slightly and it only makes you and patrick grip him tighter, like he might slip away from you or shatter in your hands.

patrick speaks first. he’s always more shaken by seeing art like this than you are. for a long time he’d blame himself, something you’ve had conversations about since. now instead he jumps to reassure and fix anything he can, “you were fucking perfect, baby - so so good for us.”

“who’s our good boy, sweetheart? c’mon you know the answer,” you know by now he needs a lot of reassurance, but you’ve also realized that having him repeat them helps bring him back up to baseline a bit faster.

art hides his face in your chest and mumbles something unintelligible into your skin. your fingers find their way into his hair and you gently massage his scalp, “couldn’t hear you, honey.”

“i - i’m your good boy,” he says, though he still sounds unsure. for good measure, just in case, he adds a soft “right?” a few seconds later.

“‘course you are, artie - such a good boy - the best.” patrick says and you nod in agreement, giving art a kiss on the tip of his nose.

he sniffles again, more tears spilling, he wishes he could get closer to you both. if he could crawl inside your skin and curl up, even that wouldn’t be close enough. his head still feels like it’s full of cotton, his vision is soft around the edges, like he’s just waking up after a deep sleep. you and patrick moving around him feels comforting, like you’re both omnipresent. he’s safe, he knows that, but the influx of emotion in his body and mind are overwhelming. he reaches out for you again when he feels you moving, patrick too - where are you going? are you leaving? please don’t leave me -

“hey, hey - it’s okay, we’re just moving you under the covers.” the sound of your voice quiets the noise that was building in his head. he’s so docile and pliant like this, his body moving where you tell it to without his mind even being part of it. you and patrick exchange glances as you readjust together on either side of him under your plush duvet. his face is so relaxed when he settles, it makes your heart squeeze. you know patrick feels it too because he’s gripping art like he’s a child with his favorite stuffed animal.

“stay? please?” how art thinks either of you could ever dream of denying him when he sounds so sweet is beyond you. you nod your head and let him squirm around a bit before he’s fully comfortable. none of you redressed, so you’re feeling pure skin on skin. it helps him, you think, especially when he mindlessly licks and mouths at your breasts. it’s not sexual in this moment, you know your puppy well enough to know when he just needs his mouth occupied. before he takes your nipple into his mouth, he flicks his eyes up to you, then to patrick, and says “love you - so much.”

patrick, loverboy that he is, would get hard again if he was physically able, hearing those words. you both hum and return art’s declaration, peppering him with kisses all over and a chorus of love you, puppy - love you so much, baby - always gonna be ours - our perfect boy.

art sighs out a breath he never notices he’s holding when he’s waiting to hear you both say you love him back. what he doesn’t realize is that as much as he needs this, you and patrick need it just as badly.

[judeable-brainrot]

art n pat frotting 😵‍💫😵‍💫 both of their wet cocks just sliding up one another…art’s leaky tip dripping into patrick’s dark pubes !! them just violently making out as they rut into each other, both panting and whining like pathetic little dogs :3

i'm in love with your brain.... MWUUAH!! <3

probably after a heated training session, both just getting their feelings out on the court, sweaty and full of adrenaline. they lock eyes after Art hits a particularly brutal shot with a shout and that's that.

they race back to the dorms, mouthing at each other, slamming each other against walls and the door of their bedroom. Patrick shoves Art onto their twin beds pushed together, working with as much grace as he can to work his clothes off that have clung to his body from the sweat. Art is struggling equally but they get there eventually and Patrick is on him in a second, biting and mouthing at his skin as he rolls his hips against Art's.

"f-fuck Patrick..." Art moans, grabbing at his biceps, eyes rolling back as he rolls his hips in tandem. Patrick groans, pressing his face into Art's neck. "god, you're so good, Artie...fuck that was so good.." Art can barely speak, the sensation of Patrick's wet cock against his, his pubes rubbing against his bare pelvis makes his lungs struggle.

Patrick chuckles. "you're loving this huh? fucking cockslut, always knew it." Art whimpers, hips jerking at the term, the glossy pre staining Patrick's pubs. Patrick moans, speeding up. "yeah, that's it..just like that, oh fuck..!" Art just whimpers and moans under him, nails digging into Patrick's arms hard. "Pat..!" Again, Patrick laughs because it wouldn't be sex with Art if he didn't cum insanely quick. "Yeah, I know. C'mon..just for me. Let me see it.." Art whines, hips bucking hard and fast before he arches and cries out, hot spurts flying from his aching cock. And when Patrick looks down and sees his pubes slimed in Art's cum, his fist finds his own dick and he jerks it quickly to finish on Art's pale tummy before he all but crushes him as he collapses on top of him, their sweat and cum mixing on their skin.

Art pets Patrick's curls softly, Patrick pressing a kiss to Art's chest. "we should play like that more often.."

[amymbona]

Puppy art plssssss

Waiting for you by the door every day you come home from work <3 eagerly rubbing himself against you, his hard cock poking your thigh <3 he didn't touch himself all day, good puppy, following mommy's orders <3

And because he was a good puppy, he gets a treat later. He's allowed to rub his aching, straining cock through mommy's pussy lips - not allowed to go inside, no no no, that's a priviledge he has to earn - but he's allowed to get off by repatedly grinding the burning tip of his dick against mommy's clit.

"Good puppy, such a good puppy for mommy," you're under him like a beautiful angel, smiling at him so sweetly, ze thinks he doesn't deserve it. But he does, because he was so so so good for you <3

"Thank- thank you mommy. I - oh, uhh - I did my best. For you," he's desperate for your praise and sometimes he might be playing a bit into it, shooting you his best puppy eyes and letting you know how incredibly hard it was to contain himself the whole day. He knows you're gonna let him use you for as long as he asks to because you're a good mommy, a kind mommy who wants her puppy to be happy.

He's rutting into you - through you - moaning mommy mommy mommy all over again. Fuck, it feels so good. His tip is leaking all over you, slick arousal coating your pussy the more he smears it all over your skin. With his forearms braced on either side of your head, Art's moans reach your ears with no time to prolong, sounding in your head like a sweet melody. It really doesn't take that long for Art to feel the need to release, especially since he's been hard the whole day, literally threatening to spill.

And he's a babbling mess, just mumbling the same words over and over again, "Mommy - fuck - I- I'm gonna - oh my god - please please please, can I? I really need to - it's so hard - oh my god!"

Of course you let him, he deserves it. Art comes all over you, think cum covering your thighs and lower, painting you white. Marking his mommy, his personal territory.

"Oh my - mommy! - fuckkk," unable to produce a single sentence, just moaning and moaning and moaning, and cumming and cumming and cumming, he drops onto your chest completely breathless, lids dropping heavy in exhaustion. That felt sooo good.

You hold him close to your chest, stroking his angel curls and the smooth skin of his back, warm warm warm, he looks so pretty on you, in bliss, your adorable little puppy, "You did so good today. So so good. You're my good little puppy, Artie, aren't you?"

[cloudcountry]

Uh baking an Apple pie with issac? Or issac with a s/o who's a fanfic writer! either one is fine! c:

SUMMARY: Isaac's been working hard lately, so you take Arthur's advice and make him a tasty treat!!

WARNINGS: None!! :D

COMMENTS: i'm trying to get back in the writing groove,,, i havent done it in so long it feels so unfamiliar ^^; thank you for requesting my apple tater!! he's the perfect start :D

this takes place before isaac and mc really know each other??? I TOOK YOUR REQUEST IN A VERY DIFFERENT DIRECTION OOPS. its just artie being a wingman LMAO

Skimming the shelves, you mumble titles to yourself as you search for the cookbook Sebastian recommended to you. You’d offhandedly mentioned making a pie for a certain someone, and the butler was quick to catch onto what you were actually trying to do. After all, said certain someone had been working hard enough to lose valuable sleep, and you weren’t the only one becoming concerned.

Snatching the book off the shelves as soon as you find it, you begin flipping through the pages. You’re so absorbed in the recipes and detailed descriptions of sweet treats that you don’t notice the other presence creeping up behind you.

“Well, I’ll be! Newt is quite a lucky guy!” Arthur hums thoughtfully, nearly scaring you out of your skin.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” you yelp.

Arthur laughs heartily as you fumble with the book, snapping it shut. Your gaze is scornful as you whip around to face him, lips twisted into a pout.

“Aw, I’m sorry love. I didn’t mean to scare you.” he slides up to you, leaning in to get a closer look at the book, “If you want to make something for him, I’d recommend something with apples. Our old Newt loves them dearly!”

Apples? You furrow your brow, running through the list of apple desserts you know. And how did he know it was for Isaac?!

“Oh, and love? Why not make the dessert with him? It’ll drag him away from his work.” Arthur winks, and just like that, he slips out of the kitchen.

That’s how you ended up here, with Isaac at your side. It’d taken quite a bit of convincing to get him out of his room and even more convincing to have him agree to bake an apple pie with you, but somehow you succeeded. You doubt anyone else would have gotten the same result.

Isaac’s soft voice is quite loud in the silence of the kitchen as he reads out ingredients, murmuring under his breath about how he would measure them and doing calculations to make sure the dessert was perfect—

“Woah, hold on Isaac!” you place a hand on the recipe book, pulling it away from his face.

He immediately stops at the sudden contact, pretty eyes blown wide at the sight of you so close to his face.

“This isn’t supposed to be a science experiment! We just need to have fun, okay?” you try your best to smile in a way that will calm him down and help him understand.

Isaac simply looks away and grasps at his hair, twirling the loose strands around his index finger.

“Okay.” he murmurs, and you do a mental celebratory dance.

Operation befriend Isaac is underway!

[charmvinyl]

ok many more shy sugar daddy art thoughts

one thing i will say... this is my first time writing smut. probably some inconsistencies probably has some issues. constructive criticism appreciated!!! also reader is pretty fem... pink slip, princess nickname, the works. switch!art?? ish?? he's just happy to be there and takes whatever u give him. also i don't know how to write people coming i stared at this for genuinely 20 minutes figuring out how to write the end and had like no luck... hope u enjoy!!!

this man is a PUSHOVER! he is absolutely infatuated with you. it's been so long since he's felt truly needed and loved and wanted in the affection u and so he's willing to do anything to make you happy. you glance at a purse? he's buying it in 2 different colors. you make an offhand comment about being hungry? his chef is making you your favorite pasta. he just wants to keep you happy and needing him! (ok the needing aspect is a diff rabbit hole i could go down about how he becomes dependent on and obsessed with your validation but that's a diff conversation..)

so, when you tell him that you want him to fuck you, he's tripping head over heels to get you to the bedroom. you push him back onto the bed and he looks up at you with the most dazed look, like you're some sort of angel. a little bit of drool peeks out of the corner of his mouth, and his eyes are unfocused as he looks at you-- adorned in a light pink silk slip, one he picked out.

"princess, i don't want you to do anything you don't want to, you know, just because i'm giving you stuff doesn't mean--"

you quiet him with a deep kiss, lips melding to each other. his hand slides up your back and cradles you delicately. "i want to, artie! don't you wanna make your girl happy?"

his girl. his pants tent at the thought.

you're soaked, but not quite wet enough to take his cock. "mnn, baby, please," he groans up at you, "i wanna taste you." you clamber over his panting body and lower yourself onto his face, panties pushed to the side.

"my prince always gets what he wants."

he eats you like a man starved, like lapping at your pussy is his life source-- dives his tongue in and out of your hole, letting his nose bump your clit. he doesn't deprive your clit of stimulation either, moving his mouth up to suckle on the bud. your moans ring through the room- you swear, every time art eats you out and his hands grip like a vice to your thighs, you get an inch closer to heaven. the only thing in the room louder than your moans are his; he loves his girl and he loves tasting her. it's him that's about to make you cum. it's him that's doing something good and righteous. tension builds in your stomach quickly, right about to snap, so you grind your pussy on his mouth, letting his tongue do most of the work for you. before long, you're reaching your peak--- leaned over, your nails scratching his abs, a loud moan ripping itself from your chest.

"fuck, artie, you did so good," you whimper breathlessly. "so perfect f'me, always"

his boxers are tented and sticky with precum. the second you move off of his face and down to where his aching cock is, he's capturing your mouth in a searing kiss, your wetness still on his tongue. he wants to devour all of you, bit by bit. wants to make you his.

"baby," you pant, "wanna ride you, please, fuck, can i?"

"anything you want, sweetheart, anything."

he's slightly sat up by this point, his back pressing against the headboard. you palm his painfully hard cock through his boxers and he lets out a broken whine "please, princess-" your hand moves under his waistband and moves to slide them down his legs. he shifts his hips up so that you can get them down his legs.

you climb over him and rest your hands on his shoulders. he runs his hands over the silk slip and moves down to the hem, his fingers skating over the exposed skin of your hips. he grips it and pulls it over your head, baring your chest to him.

"fuck," he whispers, "you're so gorgeous, baby, don't know what i'd do without you"

finally, you slowly sink down onto his cock. the stretch burns, but it doesn't matter-- the pain will meld into pleasure soon. you take art inch by inch until his dick is fully buried inside you. he throws his head back and lets out an almost painful moan. he says your name like you're his savior, come to deliver him from evil. maybe in some contorted way, you have. gripping his shoulders, you start to move yourself on his cock, grinding down on his pelvis, moving forward and backward. art swears it's the greatest thing he's ever felt. that is, until you start bouncing on his cock. his moans are so loud that even in his mansion, you're afraid the neighbors can hear. carnal sounds of desperation come from his chest. he's claiming you, breeding you. you're his, and that knowledge makes the tight heat of your pussy feel insurmountably better.

his moans, though, have grown too loud for you. you can barely hear the squelch of your pussy over art's mindless expressions of pleasure. so, you dip your fingers to where his lengthy cock slides in and out of you, gather some of the slick that's dripped from your pussy, and shove two of your fingers into his pretty, waiting mouth. his initial look of confusion morphs into one of pleasure, and he swirls his tongue around your coated fingers.

your orgasm is slowly building, a tight knot forming in your stomach as art's cock rubs against your g-spot, over + over. he's close, too. even though his noise is restricted by your fingers, loose moans fall from his lips and his hips grind upwards.

"y'gonna cum for me, princess?" he questions, breathless.

"fuck, yes, artie-- almost there, oh, just like that!"

he's gripping your hips now, slamming up into your dripping cunt. "shit--baby, m almost there, wanna cum inside--"

"course you can baby. want you to breed me, make me yours"

your words send him over the edge. digging his fingers into your plush thighs, he paints your walls white, rope after rope coating you and dripping out of your cunt. the feeling of his cum inside you is heavenly, and makes you throw back your head in a moan, cunt spasming around his cock and your vision going white.

when you come to, you're laid down on art's chest. his fingers run through your hair, and he kisses your palm. maybe, just maybe, he thinks about what you'd look like with a ring on your finger.

OHHDHEJSKEJSKSKROLWKKFKWKEEKDKFE im crashing out so fucking bad THANK you for giving me shy sugar daddy art who just wants to please his girl… i don’t even have anything to add because this was perfect but … im gonna need more thoughts on art’s growing dependency on reader like.. yes hes doing every and any thing to keep u around. because he couldn’t keep tashi— be the loyal lapdog she wanted, so of course he isn’t going to make that mistake again!!!!!!

[carrymelikeimcute]

Lets talk about Izzy and why being in drag is (potentially) huge for his arc.

The verdict on Izzy in S1 seems to be either 1. he's an angry, repressed queer guy with internalised homophobia or 2. he's an angry guy with homophobia. I would like to present to you - secret option number 3. Neither of the above (but a bit of 1).

I think he's an angry queer guy, who's terrified of the danger that lurks outside of appearing constantly masc and strong, and seeing other people apparently not realise or care how vulnerable they are, drives him absolutely spare. It's more complicated than simply internalising homophobia, it's misogyny and self-loathing and a response to being at sea for his entire life and struggling to survive - and we see what just a few months of that does to Lucius.

This is reflected in his talks with Ed in S1 - Ed's whimsy in the face of the approaching Spanish ship might get them all killed. Ed's public breakdown, if it got out, would destroy the reputation that protects Ed, Izzy and their entire crew. Stede is a pet, he's a weakness, and so he needs to be eliminated. That's how Izzy functions - he has like two bits of exposed skin, one outward emotion and he's lived for a long time like that - it works. It's the kind of strength he understands. He's convinced that him reining Ed in is what's keeping them alive.

BUT in S1 he sees that being open, being yourself, isn't a death sentence - and he HATES it. Because if that's true, look how much time he's wasted.

Ed and Stede's very whimsical lighthouse fuckery WORKS. Stede, in his frilly suits with his rec room and his fucking library, skates past death over and over again like he's scotch guarded from consequences. Ed and Stede make moon-eyes at each other and no one uses that against them - until Izzy does, because it's going to happen sometime (he thinks) so it's better it's him, because at least then Ed will survive.

Lucius is just hooking up with Pete in the galley while Wee John is right there - this is something that's an unspoken part of ship life, a shameful thing, and Izzy's the only one it bothers. Lucius uses flirtation to get out of scraping barnacles under armed guard, and uses it again to shut Izzy down. Lucius isn't ashamed of being flirtatious, seductive and femme - and Izzy loses to that tactic. He can't beat it with yelling and anger. It's a sort of strength he doesn't expect or understand - the strength that comes from knowing who you are. Of 'carrying yourself like you're cute' - because if you're confident, it'll work.

But he still has a huge amount of resentment for anyone who is allowed to be themselves - because he can't be. Especially in Ed's case - one of them has to be 'the strong one' and he thinks that's him.

Then, Season 2 happens.

In the space of a few episodes, Izzy learned that sharing your feelings is fucking difficult, painful and takes a lot of courage. He's had no choice but to be weak, spilling out all these ugly emotions and being physically dependant on others and in that weakness he wasn't destroyed - he was rebuilt. A little bit of that guard comes down and it doesn't kill him. So, he takes his shirt off and no one stabs him in the back. He's got a gold unicorn leg and he still absolutely wrecks shit up on a raid. He does something a little arty, opens up a tiny bit to Lucius, and he still doesn't die. It doesn't make things worse, it makes them better.

Enter, the drag episode. Suddenly, we've got Izzy in drag. A masculine style of drag, but still, drag. All that internal change, the shifting meaning of strength and masculinity, is externalised, but he's still himself - his face tattoo is redrawn as part of the makeup because it's still his face, if anything, it's MORE his than ever - AND THEN THE SHIP GETS ATTACKED, his worst nightmare - he's as far from hyper-masc as he can be, and now he's in danger.

BUT

In the teaser, we see Izzy telling people who are, presumably there to torture him and the crew, that it's just going to turn him on. He's using Lucius' technique of disarming people with flirty banter. I can't see S1 Izzy being able to do that.

He gets to dress in drag, be sassy and still win a fight because he's strong as shit and that doesn't go away just because he allows himself to be other things too.

[forwhatiam]

Happy 28th! <3 Here's my favorite fics I read this month, organized from longest to shortest. Fics with a * before them found their way into my bookmarks!

so let's cross the lines we lost by thecoloursneverfade (E, 165.2k)

Louis lives a not so quiet life on a not so quiet street. Starting university was supposed to be easy, that is, until he realises his new neighbour is Harry Styles, and they kind of hate each other, so falling for him is definitely out of the question.

(or: Harry and Louis have a complicated past, Niall throws too many parties, Zayn is definitely not pining, and Liam just wants everyone to get along)

*Undone, Undress by angelichl (E, 134k)

Louis' new roommate is shy, skittish, and flinches at the slightest sounds. He's an art major who gets drunk on cherry wine, wears lacy lingerie, and shows up late at night covered in bruises that blossom across his skin like flowers.

Obviously something is wrong. Louis just doesn't know what it is.

*Into The Blue by zarah5 (E, 117.2k)

AU. In which Louis is Harry's scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can't be all that difficult to convince Harry that they're on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

i want you so much (but i hate your guts) by becauselarry (E, 83.6k)

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

We'll Be Seamless by dinosaursmate (E, 52k)

Louis spends all his spare time scrolling arty nude blogs on Tumblr but amongst them all, Green is his favourite.

*Love's Truest Language by summerwine (E, 48.1k)

The first part was meant as a joke. He didn't really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow.

“Where's your order forms, then?”

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him.

Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

under your bed in new york. by sleepylittlejupiter (T, 33.4k)

there are many things louis likes to tell himself. we broke up for a reason. it's been so many years. and of course, the classic: i’ve definitely moved on from him. but when he suddenly finds harry back in his life after three years, louis realizes he might be a little less moved on than he thought.

au; spilling coffee onto an ex, being set up on dates, and having a nosy puppy might be all louis needs to find love again

you are half of me (and I am all for you) by angelichl (E, 24.7k)

One Direction, an obscure indie rock band, is about to embark on their first cross-country tour, living out of Louis' beloved van named Patricia.

Harry is in love, and Louis is oblivious. Or is he?

Featuring skinny-dipping in Texas waterfalls, getting lost in the desert, stargazing under the New Mexico sky, performing in front of crowds that grow in size each night, and falling in love on the road during the greatest summer of their lives.

Dust to Dust by dinosaursmate (M, 23.4k)

Harry, an active participant in the One Direction Tumblr fandom, comes across a rumour that Louis died and has been replaced with a lookalike.

Hung Up On You by hazzahtomlinson (E, 11.8k)

Louis received a dick pick from a stranger and normally, he'd be completely furious at something like that-- except, whomever it was, had a super nice dick. If only the person attached to it hadn't turned out to be a complete asshole.

Same White Shirt by lululawrence (NR, 10k)

Or the one where Harry's on the Late Late Show for a week and several misunderstandings with a certain mouthy assistant James recently hired make things that much more interesting.

You Came Along And Moved Me, Honey by fairytalefemme (T, 8.3k)

Louis was gone for Harry from the moment they met, already planning their wedding and picking out rings in his head, and after months of living in each other's pockets they knew almost everything about each other. The one thing Louis didn't know about Harry was what he did for a living. Faced with vague answers and question-evading, Louis begins to imagine scandalous and dangerous secrets that Harry must be keeping - but maybe Harry's secrets aren't so sinister after all.

In which Louis thinks Harry's hiding a life of crime and Harry just really likes candles.

The Rose & Dagger by galastyles (E, 4.1k)

The first time Harry went to a session at The Rose And Dagger, he told himself it was a one time thing. The second time, he said it was to get the idea out of his system. By the fifth visit, he stopped making excuses.

i'm going out tonight by disgruntledkittenface (M, 3.8k)

Louis hasn’t been appreciating his boyfriend Harry. He only realizes it when Harry takes matters into his own hands.

Inspired by Bejeweled by Taylor Swift.

HOT TO GO! by allwaswell16 (T, 2.3k)

When Harry does something weird at the barricade, he leaves Louis’ show devastated and hoping he can somehow make things right.

Or the accidental pervert fic

[copinghex]

Out of the Eden | A.S

Summary: When Arthur makes an unpleasant discovery about his drinking partner he has to make a hard decision. TW: Drug abuse

Arthur waited for a maid to instruct him with a chest crushing feeling, his mouth was dry, craving a drink or a cigarette. At the current moment he couldn't afford any.

Looking at the family picture on the corner table, guilt dragged him down. Y/N weakly smiled, she looked happy and well, a huge contrast with the state he brought her home earlier that morning.

London was a wild place, perhaps even worse than Esme's description, Arthur indulged in it without struggle, already used to the violence and promiscuity, he was doomed, fucked up in the head since childhood, but Y/N wasn't and if she was moribund now, he was the one to blame.

He still remembers the first time she entered the club, curious eyes wandering around as if she knew something was different. Many rumors surrounded the place since the peaky blinders took it from Sabini and she was willing to discover all of them.

Something Arthur was unaware though, was they were once the same, high and wild, drowned into the misery of addiction. However, she had faced the battle of getting clean a long time ago. He swore if he knew that before, he would've stayed away from her, because now she was back to the same problem.

"Mr. Shelby," the maid called.

"Yeah? Where is she? Where 's Y/N?" he quickly asked.

"She's asleep, but her parents-" 

Before she was done speaking, Arthur rushed through the hallways of the house, it wasn't hard to find the angry father and worried mother.

"Where is-" 

"Shhh," the mother interrupted, "she's sleeping," 

"And you'll get out of my house, get the fuck out my daughter's life!" the father completed.

"Get off the way," Arthur tried to push them.

"Get out!" the mum yelled, "Can't you see what you've done?! My daughter was fine, she was about to get into college!" 

Arthur gulped, Y/N never mentioned her plans for the future, "Look, I just want to see her," 

"No," the father forbade, "a man like you is the last thing she needs, you're gonna get her killed!" 

"Alright, step out the fucking way-" 

"Mum?" Y/N's voice made them freeze.

Through the bedroom's door, her sleepy voice called again. The trio switched a tense stare before the mother slightly opened the door.

"Yes, sweetie? Do you need anything?"

"What's all this noise?" she asked, curled up under the blankets.

"Nothing you should worry about, go back to sleep, alright?" 

Before she could close the door again, Y/N's attentive eyes reached his figure, "Arthur?" 

"Yeah, I'm- I just wanted to make sure you're alright," he explained.

"He was on his way out," the dad completed.

"No," she quickly denied, "I want to talk to him, come in, Artie,"

"Y/N," the mother warned.

"Please, mum? He was kind enough to wait until I wake up," 

With a defeated sight, the parents allowed Arthur to enter the bedroom. The door closed behind his back and he tensed up, fearing his awkward ways made her change her mind about him.

"Come here," she shrunk her legs to give him space at the edge of the bed.

"Uhm, what the hell was that yesterday, Y/N?" he sat down.

"I'm not sure, I probably just had one too many and my body powered off," she dismissed the subject as if it was nothing, "my parents will always make a big deal out of it, don't mind them," 

"You looked fucking terrible, I almost called you a doctor," 

"A doctor in a club? Don't be ridiculous, Arthur," boldly smiling, she laid her head on his lap, making herself comfortable in the spot. Arthur lifted his hands in surprise, unsure of how to proceed.

Slowly, he rested one hand on the mattress as the other remained still, observing her from close, Arthur realized under the layers of make-up her skin looked soft and her eyelids shook slightly, these details always went unnoticed with the club's poor lighting. 

Enchanted by the view, he petted her hair with uncharacteristic gentleness. This was the first time they saw each other outside a club and he was mesmerized by how beautiful she looked without the heavy party outfit.

"I'm glad you're here," she whispered without opening her eyes.

"Yeah?" 

"Uhm-uhm," she agreed.

Arthur hesitated, he knew it'd ruin the moment, but he just had to ask, "Why didn't you tell me you were sober?" 

"Why does it matter?" 

"'Cause now you're not, love, must be a fucking struggle to quit," he explained and she didn't answer, "Uhm?" 

"Well, I guess it's because it gets tiring," 

"What does?" 

"How long can you go sober?" 

"...I don't know,"

"See? Every day is a struggle, you'll have to restrain yourself for the rest of your life and I was tired, tired of fighting what I wanted the most," she opened her eyes, "then there was you, I didn't feel guilty for relapsing when I was with you," 

Arthur watched her delicate head in his lap with messy thoughts on his own. She found relief in his presence, but for all the wrong reasons, he knew he'd drag her down if they kept meeting.

"Uhm, and what about college?" he drawled.

"I don't know anymore," she answered, "I don't want to stay away from you,"

"Oh, an university degree is worth much more than me, better believe it," 

"I know, but that's my choice, right?" 

Tensing up, he positively nodded even if he disagreed. He wouldn't let himself ruin the only good thing that happened in his life lately, he couldn't, even if it broke his heart. The first time they saw each other out of a club would also be the last.

[im-a-luxury]

warning: absolutely delulu headcanon incoming (based on a convo i had w/ @sharonz-arty-corner03)

after the happenings of atsv calm down (and they will <- im insane) and miguel BEGS and GROVELS for forgiveness and everyone becomes a family again (AND THEY WILL <- even more insane), miguel totally becomes the dad that always has a child crawling over or hanging onto him. (more under the cut!!)

seeing that he’s 6’9 (in the movie atleast lmao) ~300 pounds, and built like a brick shithouse, the kids immediately go “oh so you’re a jungle gym”

he’s in a super important meeting? mayday’s climbing over his shoulders babbling. another meeting? pav is clamped to his back, interrupting the meeting with periodic snores and sleep-mumbles. the other meeting members bring it up and he glares them down.

he’s working? hobie is crawling over his shoulders and back and leaning over him and blocking miguel’s view of the screens with his hair and arms and hands. miguel tries to act annoyed but he’s just glad that hobie finally feels comfortable.

he’s talking with jess or peter b? miles and gwen are running around him, playing tag and using his hands and shoulders and back as vaulting platforms. or they’re just sitting on both his shoulders, holding a completely unrelated conversation. miguel keeps a perfectly straight face, but on the inside he’s grinning so widely.

he’s working in the lab with margo? they're leaning back to back, margo’s leaning over his shoulders and ducking under his arms to show him something or ask a question.

peni needs to get energy out? she’s using him a jungle gym, crawling over his shoulders and swinging over his arms and clambering up his back. her nails dig into his skin ever so often, and she nearly falls a couple times, but miguel just catches her and sets her up on his shoulder.

he’s reporting after a tiring mission? ben’s leaning against miguel’s WALL of a back, arms wrapped around his chest and face shoved into his shoulderblade. his breathing is steady, but he’s sagging against miguel’s back. eventually, miguel turns around and scoops him up in his arms.

he’s working on his platform (in his office that’s warmer than the rest of the building)? noir comes in, shivering slightly (you cannot tell me that boy has a core body temp above 20 degrees). he clambers up onto the platform, and shoves his forehead against miguel’s shoulder. he just swings an arm around the boy and pulls him into his side. noir falls asleep, and miguel picks him up, figuring a nap might be good for them.

just….miguel who gets to be a dad again man.

[purlturtle]

Untitled Post-Apocalyptic Fic, part 3

(part 1) (part 2)

Helena looked at the person who had spoken, and gasped.

The woman was more weather-worn than in the photo Artie had shown her; skin tanned and lips chapped, wrinkles around the eyes from squinting against the sun, hair lighter than it had been in the picture – but it was her, it was the woman Artie had talked about. “If you run into her, see if you can persuade her to come along,” he’d said, and then, “She was…” He’d broken off then, stared into thin air for a bit, muttered something under his breath, sniffed sharply. Then he’d just said, “She’ll be an asset.” Helena hadn’t gotten much more out of him.

The woman’s clothing was nondescript and serviceable, and her boots red from the dust that permeated everything around here – again nothing like the picture, but certainly more fitting to being out in the open like this, right down to the wide-brimmed cowboy hat she held in her hand, leather almost bleached white from the sun. None of the woman’s appearance, not even its suddenness, was quite as odd, though, as the sensation Helena had when she looked into the woman’s eyes – which was that she knew this woman, that she’d looked into these eyes before. Which was ridiculous, of course; she would have remembered. This woman was striking, truly unforgettable; besides the fact that the only human being Helena had encountered since being unbronzed had been Artie, Helena was not so befuddled as to forget someone as memorable as this.

“Been following you since you came out of the Warehouse,” the woman said, pinning Helena with a piercing gaze. “Never saw you go in there, though. Who are you?”

“Lake,” croaked Helena, giving the name of the fake identity Artie had presented her. “My name is Lake.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at her and regarded her for a long moment; Helena resisted the urge to fidget. “Right,” the woman said, at long last, her disbelief clear.

“Artie sent me,” Helena added quickly, and now the woman’s eyebrows twitched. They didn’t rise, she had that much control over them, but they definitely twitched.

“Did he now.”

Helena nodded. “He did say that I might run into you,” she added.

The woman clicked her tongue and looked away. “Hasn’t given up, has he. So, what’s your message, then? ‘Tell her to come back’?” she went on, imitating Artie’s inflection so accurately that Helena blinked in surprise. “‘Tell her I’m not mad at her; tell her no one’s accusing her of anything. She’s welcome back, any time she wants.’ Something like that?” When the woman looked back at Helena, her expression was unreadable.

“No, actually,” Helena said quietly. “He just said you were the best agent he ever had.” She had always had good hearing, and the ability to remember, re-hear, and parse mumbled words.

The woman scoffed, and through the affectation of it, Helena could sense a deep, lasting wound. “Right.”

Helena decided to risk it. “He said if you were to accompany me, my mission would go more quickly and be safer.” It wasn’t exactly what Artie had said, but it could be interpreted this way, and something told Helena that “mission” and “quick” and “safe” might still pull some weight with a former agent, even one as hurt and disillusioned as this one seemed to be.

And while the woman scoffed again, it wasn’t quite as acerbic as the first one. “Right,” was all she said once more.

“You did safe my life, just now,” Helena said, and then wondered why she’d said that – the horse had, not this wo—

Her thoughts froze.

The woman pursed her lips bitterly, then snorted softly through her nose. “Perceptive,” she said. “Yeah, that was me. Got hit with something, right before the Warehouse exploded. Don’t even know what artifact it was, because everything went to shit right after. But there were a couple ferrets there, running to get away, and one of them scampered over my foot, and bam, I was a ferret too, running after them because it seemed like a good idea and I wasn’t thinking too clearly because, you know, I had just been turned into a ferret.” She inhaled sharply and looked away, eyes fixing on the horizon. She was quiet for a long time, and Helena didn’t interrupt – she could sense that the woman wasn’t done talking yet. “Anyway,” the woman sighed after a while, and looked at Helena again with those piercing hazel eyes. “Ferret, horse, dog, cat – if it’s mammalian and I’ve touched it, I can turn into it. At will by now,” she added, with a wry roll of her eyes. “And thank god my clothes stay with me when I do.” She nodded her chin at Helena. “Name’s Myka. But you probably know that already. Care to tell me yours? Your actual name this time?”

Best agent I ever had. Helena nodded, decision made. “Helena.”

[randoimago]

Day 30 - Mutual Pining

Fandom: Critical Role

Character(s): Artagan

Type of Request: 31 Days of Oc-Trope-R

Note(s): Because of Jester, I feel like this archfey pining isn't as creepy and greek mythology-esque as it definitely could be

He is a powerful fey being, he does not pine for anyone. If anything, people and creatures pine for him. He's gorgeous and magical, who wouldn't pine for him?

And that's why he easily noticed you enjoying his presence. At first, he wasn't interested, sure the idea sounded fun. Maybe give you a chance to see how long until he made you snap. Jester immediately got on his case as soon as he started making comments. It's not his fault that you're thirsty.

But you're also not doing anything and it's causing him to grow more curious. He thought it was shyness. Maybe some cliche self-doubt because he's a fey being and you're not worth his time. But he doesn't see any illusions when he does make his presence relatively known. Instead, you just act pleasant, and it gets under his skin.

He starts to want to do things to try and get a different reaction out of you. He doesn't want the niceties or the pleasantries. So, he asks Jester what you're scared of. Find out little pet peeves of yours. Jester thinks it's a bit weird, but she gives him some info.

He absolutely uses that info to mess with you a bit, sees what causes what reactions for you, hangs onto every time your eyes light up because he made sure a specific flower grew in your path or made sure to lead you in the direction of where a baked good you enjoy is being sold. Not because he likes you or anything, but because he likes those reactions.

And then Jester gives him things that he likes, and he is happy and ready to thank Jester, except he learns that it's actually from you as a way to say thanks for his actions. Artagan begins to defend himself that it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart or anything silly like that. But he'll take the present because he likes gifts.

It's just a cycle of Artagan throwing things he knows you like in your path and you giving Jester presents to give to him. And anything he does have the time to pop in as himself, it's just politeness from you when he knows you like him. This cycle is only slightly skewed because at some point, Artagan begins to wonder if maybe you don't like him. Was that an assumption he made? Are you just nice to him because he's Jester's cool uncle figure? He wants to tear his hair out at the idea that he's been messing and courting you all this time for nothing.

"That's it, I've had enough!" Artagan is taken out of his chaotic thoughts of 'what if he saved you from a swarm of wasps, maybe you'd like him then' when Jester suddenly made that exclamation. "Arty, just tell them your feelings."

"Jester, I have no idea what you're talking about." He's an archfey, deny and gaslight and he'll be fine because he's not ready for this conversation with her. Especially because he knows how tricky she is, he helped raise her, in a way. The glare she gives him would make him sweat if he could (he'd never ruin his visage by sweating).

"I am not going to be in the middle anymore. Tell the truth or I'll go and tell them everything you've said to me about them," she says and Artagan gasps, a bit too dramatically, at her words.

"We made pinky promises Jester."

"Pinky promises be damned, this is love!"

There was a part of him that wanted to deny the love concept, but Jester wasn't budging. So, he said he'd think about it. He'd need some time to figure out a good way to do this and didn't want it to be some cliche. Jester gave him one week, material plane time, and he was very proud of the strong-arming she gave him.

So, one day, Artagan popped in as a simple merchant you thought you were buying from - he had no idea who actually owned the stall, but he doubted they'd mind you being given free stuff in the name of love - and he gave you a bright smile and asked if you come here often.

It's dumb, it's cheesy, but it causes a smile from you and you both talk, and he flirts. He thinks you flirt back? For his ego, he says you are. And then he flat out says, "I've been trying to court you for the past several months. So, are we going to be a thing, or will my heart be broken, and I vanish in a swarm of pigeons to go brood?"

The amount of relief he feels, not that he'd admit it because he knew your feelings all along, when you say that you do like him back. That you had done your own "courting" by having Jester give those thank you gifts. It's good, it's great, the actual stall owner is coming back so he needs to skedaddle really quick, but he'll pick you up that evening for a date fitting of an archfey's love. Good luck.

He doesn't think his heart has ever raced as much as it is now (well there was one time with this half-elf twink but-) and he never wants to do this again. He really hopes that he doesn't mess up with you.

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2024 No. 15 - Childhood trauma & Moment of clarity

07/01/2018

All things considered, calling the Brotherhood of all people for support in the most recently emerged crisis, and not a day after the X-Men had faced their old archenemies at the gates of the besieged city no less, wasn’t the fucking weirdest thing that had happened in Westchester lately.

Ororo and Scott had decided for this early morning hour for their desperate attempt, in the weak hope that Mystique would be sleeping off the world's worst hangover right now, after hopefully drinking her defeat away yesterday. But still, they weren’t awfully surprised when the main com screen in the IT center flashed to life, showing a disgusted grimace on a certain red and blue scaled face instead of the pink-skinned person they'd actually sought out to talk to. That Mystique had filled the mayor chair for her domicile of triumph only with one of the X-Men's former students to deliver them painful twinges in their hearts every time this certain young man showed up in a press release or on one of these incredibly cynical, demonstratively cheerful invitation videos calling mutants around the globe to this so-called paradise of freedom, had never been much of a mystery.

Artie Maddicks had never been anything but yet another masterfully manipulated, well-oiled tool for her too wield while in truth, she was calling the shots behind every decision regarding the Brotherhood's new habitat. Anything they wanted to go to the boy to for, they'd have to run by his boss first one way or another.

Fortunately, Scott had twisted himself into worse verbal pretzels, running Mutant High after Charles' disappearance. Not to mention they were depressingly low on options. "We're calling about yesterday's attack." He didn’t bother granting Mystique as much as a greeting. When you were trying to kill each other at every turn, pleasantries became extremely neglectable.

"Looking for an apology, One-Eye? After you infiltrated us, again? You might be shit out of luck there." Mystique hardly gave him more than a scathing glance with her snow-white teeth bared wide before turning away halfway from the camera, demonstratively typing away on some keyboard, obviously of the opinion, these few vicious sentences had already been far too much attention for people she despised.

Not least thanks to Ororo's brief touch to the back of his hand, invisible for the camera on their side on the conversation, Scott somehow swallowed his equally rude reply, reminding himself arduously that with yesterday's surprising developments at the end of the battle, they were all in similarly equally bad positions at the moment and would need each other for a change. "I'm not talking about yours on our extraction crew but about Flashwind's."

This time, there was a clear hint of mischief sparkling in Mystique's yellow pupils. "Wait, so you're the one who wants to apologize? Let me put you on city speaker then. That said, looked more like to me like your little wifey was trying to file a visa request. If she's looking for an apartment downtown, you should probably be working on your charm, Summers, because I'm not gonna stop her. New York weather sucks anyway."

"If that would ever be her decision, we'll be sure to let you know, Darkholme," Ororo spoke up harshly before Scott get could get too tempted after all to call out his conversation partner on all her crap.

It was his turn to gratefully squeeze her leg under the control panel. His nerves already hadn’t been the thickest since he'd been attacked by his own partner courtesy of the influence of some insane psychic bitch yesterday afternoon.

"But it's not. Emma is in her mind, and we can't get her out alone."

For the first time since having been outsmarted by two teenagers yesterday, Mystique seemed caught off guard, another snort escaping her lips, but Scott also was pretty sure to see his enemy's back tighten just the tiniest bit. Emma had dealt the Brotherhood significant losses back when Magneto had still been actively around already, and Mystique wasn’t exactly someone to forgive easily. Or not to know who the few mutants in this good world were whom she needed to be truly cautious about. "The White Queen, are you for real? See, Summers, and this is why you don't take crazy to bed."

"Unlike you, Darkholme, we keep our clothes on around most of our acquaintances." Scott found he didn’t even have a lot of energy for provocations in return right now. His fleeting gaze kept on finding the time display on the monitor's right lower half, the reminder of how much serious damage Katja's numbed mind could be taking with every damn passing minute, lowering his already not-great bullshit tolerance in record time.

Sadly, Mystique wasn’t done yet, rubbing it in his face for how long the X-Men had put their trust in the wrong telepath … again. "Too bad. How else are you planning to pay for whatever you need from us? I can always use someone in a half-thong serving drinks in my loft."

"What gives you the idea we were calling your mayor's office for a request to you?" Ororo raised her voice again before the throbbing flashing behind Scott's VISOR could find the damn communication panel on pure accident – with how the conversation was going, he seriously doubted that would have made any difference.

"You should, seeing as I decide how to use my employers around here," Mystique reminded them flatly, from one second to another back to calculating business, even finally reluctantly waving for the person that this room was actually belonging to at last, to step into the camera's field of view, even if was surely mostly only to mock Ororo and Scott with the offer of what they so badly needed, only to snatch it away from them again right away or demand retribution from them that Scott wasn’t even willing to think about.

Luckily for them, in this case, this wasn’t her call.

"Curious. And here I thought mutants in New York are free to do whatever they please."

Mystique ground her teeth so hard, he thought he could actually hear it via the – thanks to the Field interferences slightly noisy – line. But then she actually scooted aside with her chair so that said follower of hers could pull up his own, albeit with a similarly dismissive look on his face.

Well, that probably meant, Scott didn’t need to try politeness in this even more difficult part of the call either. "Cat needs your help, Artie."

It hurt, the message that immediately plopped up in the screen's chat window, typed in by fingertips almost moving in lighting speed after so many years in which they'd been forced to take over for a voice no longer working after its owner's body had turned fully amphibian ... But it was sadly also exactly what they'd expected. Artie's mutation had developed into everything he'd had feared so long at the worst time back then, and he'd clearly never quite forgiven the X-Men for how alone he'd felt at that terrible moment.

'Did you two call the wrong number?'

This time, it was Ororo who needed to pause, to swallow thickly before she could answer, the pain of not having been able to help one of her favorite charges back then darkening her eyes, just like the heavy weight on her thin shoulders that this was something she'd probably never be able to never make up for. "Artie, please ... I know how bad these last few days of yours at Mutant High were. Believe me, I wouldn't call you if we had any other way. But this is about your city, too. Right now, Hank's got Cat's mind in deep sleep with the help of the right medication, but if she wakes up and makes it out of here, for what reason ever, then the Field is history. This is the only reason why Emma is keeping her mind captive. To fight Mystique for the power in New York and declare herself leader. Do you two really want to risk that?"

'Then make sure she doesn't wake up.' There was not a single visible stir in Artie's eerie, huge white eyes when he sent those shocking next few words via the com line.

Scott could have sworn to hear Mystique chuckle in satisfaction in the background. Christ, next time he'd meet that cunt in battle, there would definitely not be half as much holding back as yesterday.

Ororo's dark skin had turned a significant shade greyer. "You can't mean that, Artie. You two were so close back then …"

In the mind monitor over Artie's head which happened to be the main reason Ororo and Scott had decided for this call although they'd already had a sad hunch that it would go exactly this way, there was the image of a dark storm cloud flashing, a symbol for the young man's growing aggression ironic enough considering whom they were talking about here. 'The way she left me when I most needed her, to wrestle with Magneto once more, I sincerely doubt that, Miss Munroe. Why should I care about the fate of someone who didn’t give a fuck about mine?'

"You really don't know, do you?" Scott leaned closer to the camera with his jaw grinding both in irritation and sadness about how deeply that hurt between his wife and her once favorite pupil really ran, a hint of guilt also stinging in his heart for a moment as he couldn’t help but wonder if they wouldn’t have had to have this discussion right now if he'd made better choices himself in this regard.

"That us others, we had to all but stop Cat with violence at least twice a year from looking for you ever since you left. And about two times a week from trying and talking to you, since we finally learned where you were."

Artie's spidery fingers paused on the keyboard for a moment, his mouth hanging open for long seconds while he seemed to try and process this information, but that deep crease of anger on his bulging forehead wasn’t going anywhere yet. 'Then why did she let you guys stop her if she allegedly cared so much?'

"Because in the end, she decided every time over that she didn't want to take the freedom of choice from you," Ororo answered very firmly, never letting go off that increasingly distraught gaze via the cameras, her hand clenching down on her thigh high uniform boot in growing agitation – in a faint breeze of hope. "That freedom has always been very important for her, too, and Cat has never been a hypocrite. Unlike some people." Ororo raised a meaningful brow in the direction of the screen where Mystique's face had soured more and more with every word.

'And yet you want to destroy what we built here,' Artie objected, vaguely gesturing around the room he'd so lovingly seemed to have furnished himself there, with all these huge cabinets with neatly filled files about his work, lots of paintings from sights all around the world and hundreds of photos, particularly of physically extremely disfigured mutants on the wall.

Scott would have loved to tell him that no one would come and take away from him what he was so enthusiastically helping to build there. But that would just have been another lie on top of the mountain of the ones that this so-called refuge was already built on. "Normal people, too, deserve the freedom of choice, Artie. I think we all know, things in New York will sooner or later come to a blow, one way or another, and I can't promise we won't be there then. You know very well we can't endorse what your boss is doing. And yet we haven’t stopped a single of our pupils who went there to live with you, have we?"

"How do I know you won't send your wifey yourself as soon as she's clear in the head again?" Mystique unexpectedly spoke up again, apparently sensing that she was quickly losing her superior position in this debate.

"One single mutant against a whole city? You think she'd be that stupid without Emma's influence, Darkholme?"

It was a rhetorical question on Scott's part because he knew the mouth Mystique had on her well enough by now, which was also why he was almost relieved when Artie started to type again, though the answer from that side wasn’t particularly benign either.

'It wouldn't be the first suicide mission she embarks on.'

"We will not start a war, Artie," Ororo stated with all the arduous conviction about that subject that Scott and she had come up with in the last few weeks, in so many arguments, fighting mostly the uncertainty in their own souls about how to approach this catastrophe. They still weren't any closer to a solution in that regard but the one thing everyone in this house knew was that they wouldn’t be responsible for mutant blood being spilled in the streets if they could avoid it somehow. "Cat knows that, too. If she should still decide at some point to do something very dumb, maybe because Mystique keeps her daughter hostage again under the false pretense of medical support, then she will have to live with the consequences, one way or another. But then that will be her decision, at least. What is happening right now? It's not. What would you have said if Emma had forced you with her powers to stay at Mutant High back then?"

'Cat wouldn’t have exactly minded that,' was the next still unbelievably bitter reply, but the way Artie's tall body had hunched in his elegantly carved chair more and more, his lidless eyes narrowing, twitching, again and again, revealed he was rapidly losing at least part of his aggression.

"I can guarantee you with 100 % certainty that this opinion has changed."

To that next solemn answer from Ororo, there weren’t any words for a short while, neither spoken nor written or mentally depicted ones.

"People can change, Artie," Scott finally spoke up again when he could be sufficiently sure, he wouldn’t make things worse instead of better. "That's what makes us human. Everything you had to endure, how difficult things always were for you … None of us can make that right. We made mistakes, all of us, including you. And maybe we'll always stand on different sides. But we never deny any mutant our help if they really need it. Will you allow me to ask you for the same?"

Artie abruptly got up from his chair, and for a moment, Scott was convinced he'd fucked up after all, blowing the last chance out of the window to free Katja from this dangerous condition any time soon … Then he saw, with relief, the image of a cab on Artie's mind monitor, and a clock the hands of which went one full-time round. An hour.

"You know I could just raze Frost Ltd. to the ground, Summers, don't you?" Mystique was audibly disgruntled that she'd been robbed of the chance of yet another blackmailing attempt of any kind their way.

"I wasn’t talking to you, Darkholme," Scott gave back coldly. "You might have nothing to fear by telepaths but if you're so happy to sacrifice mutants that Emma can kill or mentally damage for a lifetime with a single thought, knock yourself out. Otherwise, sit your ass down and pray, Artie will succeed."

The abrupt but at least silent disconnection of the com-line from his enemy's side said all he needed to know for the moment.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

[savior-of-humanity]

Equal exchange: 😴 and/or 😨 for Atreus, about Arti? :3

The warmth of another was something Atreus didn't really have the luxury of experiencing often, once his mother had passed. He didn't get as sick as often as he used to as he grew older, so there was seldom need for sharing body heat. Still, even in his sleep, that feeling of being swaddled and safe causes him to nose his way into Artificer's fur and drift into deeper, sweeter dreams.

--

It comes to him in flashes; bits and pieces of moments that, in the realm of sleep, seem to last for an eternity. In each fragment of time, Artificer was always there with him. Sometimes others were there as well, like Father or Mimir or Freya, and sometimes there was nobody else but him and the slugcat.

They come and go, like fond memories; sometimes they're on the Lake of Nine, paddling across the calm and unfrozen waters. Sometimes they're exploring the wilds of one of the realms beyond Midgard, perhaps Alfheim or Vanaheim. The places, people, and things would vary, but out of them all only one stood out in particular.

She's there, watching from the sidelines, and Atreus is a slugcat this time. He's tussling with something, like how he'd play with Speki and Svanna - it takes him a moment to realize they're pups. One with fur as deep and green as the lake waters, and one with fur as bright and blue as the summer sky. He's not sure why, but something about them both reminded him strongly of Artificer.

They play like they'd always been siblings, roughhousing among the summer grass and flowers of the forest surrounding his home. Sun and sea and sky, under the watchful eye of mother fire. It's a moment that Atreus wouldn't mind being lost in for an eternity.

--

But sometimes, the dreams give way to nightmares.

He's not home anymore. He's in what he could only describe as a claustrophobic hell; cramped and dim hallways, lit only by the warm light of lanterns. Packed to the brim and swarming with Scavengers. He was one too, with bright blue eyes and golden fur, but the others looked as him as though he were a demon with their burning, hateful gazes.

Atreus couldn't run, so the only thing he did was fight. Spears flew and clashed against one another; many nicked and pierced him, but for every drop of god-blood they spilled, he killed just as many of their kin. But there were so many, and they wouldn't stop coming, and his arms were getting so tired, and all of his wounds won't stop bleeding and it just hurts--

There.

He hears it first before he sees it; the crackling snap of an explosion, followed by a familiar blur of red leaving smoking bodies in its wake. He tries to call out for her but in his Scavenger throat it comes out wrong, a high-pitched squeal of distress akin to a terrified pup. Among the chaos, she sees her head snap over in his direction and her gaze lock on him. Relief floods his heart when she launches herself over to his side of the crowd, and he starts fighting his way through the Scavenger tide to try and close the distance.

What he doesn't expect is for her to slam into him, and for her jaws to sink deep into his throat.

He can't scream, he can't gasp, leaving only his eyes to go wide as plates at the sudden betrayal. Only now does his magic let him meld back into the familiar slugcat form, yet she does not relent. He reaches up to her face, blood and air seeping through his mouth and throat alike, and manages to rasp;

Why me? Why me?

His spear had sunk into the skin over her heart, yet he couldn't bring himself to drive it any deeper. He sees how her ears pin even further back, how her only good eye seemed to well up, and yet she bites down ever harder.

--

He wakes with a start, a hand pressed to his intact throat as his eyes flutter open to the dark interior of the shelter. Outside, he can hear the distant roar of the rain, but aside from the sound of his and Artificer's breathing, all is quiet. It reminds him of when he'd wake in the dead of bad winter nights, between the safety and warmth of his parents.

He hesitated for a moment, then snuggled back into Artificer's fur, letting its scent and her breathing lull him back to sleep.

[kuruka1559s]

What the f*ck...?

Yeah the title isn’t good, but ehh, you know.

I know, I may have wrote too many things with Ajay, but I DO NOT CAREEEEEE- No hey I’m serious rn.

There will be different points of view so... yippe!

At the end of the silly story I’ll announce something veeeery big and cool.

SO YOU’LL HAVE TO READ THIS HEHE

SO

Smile belongs to me!

Ajay, Artis, Paintscroll and Hazy belong to @lazy-skullz !

Story under the cut!

Painttale

Paint’s house, Japan.

It was morning, Hazy came at Paintscroll’s house for a sort of pyjama party with his boyfriend. They both wake up.

“Good Morning Artis...” “Good morning.”

Answered Artis to Paintscroll.

They had breakfast calmly, when suddenly Paintscroll’s phone starts to ring with notifications from the same person.

“Who is it babe?...”

Yawned Hazy, Paintscroll grabs the phone and opens the messages.

“Why is Ajay even texting me...?”

Muttered Paintscroll. In the meanwhile the messages kept coming.

“PAINTSCROLL”

“WAKE UP”

“PAINT”

“PAINT I’M SERIOUS.”

“PAINT!!!!”

Those were the messages from Ajay.

“He seems to be desperate..”

Affirms Hazy, looking with him at the phone.

“Yeah...”

Mutters Paintscroll in answer.

“What?”

“I NEED YOUR HELP.

“Yeah I will help you but stop writing with the caps-lock on.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“So, what is it?”

“I may have to ask you how am I supposed to confess to someone...” “Wait- WHAT!?”

Wrote Paintscroll in the chat.

“WHAT!?”

Yelled Paintscroll.

“What is it?” Asked Artis.

“AJAY LIKES SOMEONE, AND HE HASN’T TOLD ME!?” Yelps Paintscroll surprised.

“I like someone, yeah...”

“AND YOU HAVEN’T TOLD ME!? >:0”

“LISTEN YOU HAVEN’T TOLD ME ABOUT YOUR STUPID CRUSH ON HAZY!”

“THAT’S DIFFERENT!”

“whatever...! I need your help or Hazy’s. It’s the same.”

“We’re both all ears, he’s right next to me :D”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, he’s here :3”

“Stop it with the emojis.”

“Ok ok, fine, who’s the lucky person?”

“... don’t judge me.”

“I won’t.”

“... Smile.”

“WHAT!?”

Yells again Paintscroll, scaring Artis.

“WHAT HAPPENED NOW!?” Exclaims Artis, kinda scared.

“AJAY LIKES SMILE.” “Wait really?-“

“YES. SMILE.” “Wow.”

Mutters Artis kinda shocked from the news.

Ajay?

Liking smile?

Hell no. That was unexpected.

“Oh.”

“I told you to not judge me.”

“So, why do you need our help?”

“Because I don’t know how to confess. At all.”

“Hm.”

“We can’t help him.”

Says bluntly Hazy.

“What?”

“He has to do it alone, trust me, we can support him but we can’t do anything else.” Affirms Hazy.

“Welllll...”

“Will you help me somehow?”

“We can’t. We’ll support you tho, good luck! :D”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN!? NO HELP!?”

“Yeah... we can’t really help with this situation. TwT”

“Again, stop it with the emojis.”

“Fine, fine... the only thing that I can say, knowing her from a longer time than you do, she’s never going to confess so you’ll have to act. Good luck! :D”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?”

“He’s hopeless at confessing.” Affirms Hazy.

“Why do I agree?”

Asks Paintscroll to himself.

Omega Timeline

Ajay’s house.

Ajay was laying on the bed, totally hopeless after that chat he had with Paintscroll and Hazy.

“Not one time they would help me.” Thinks Ajay, kinda mad.

He gets up from the bed and wears his jacket, his shoes and grabs his notebook.

“What will I do... ...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

F*ck it.”

Thinks Ajay, after scribbling anxiously something.

“Good.” Thinks Ajay.

He straps from the notebook the page and after teleports in the Smiletale.

Smiletale

Rieti St Hyppolitus, Smile’s house.

Smile groans and turns to the other side of the hammock, her left arm coming out from the small hammock.

Smile groans again, her jacket was on the ground and the slippers 2 metres away from her.

“Damn it.... TODAY...”

She suddenly tries to sit up, but fails miserably.

“I....”

She tries again. Nope.

“WILL...”

She tries again. Nope.

“CONFESS!”

She finally sits up, she was in her messy human form, her hair looked like a bush and Part of her t-shirt was up, revealing some of her skin.

“Today I’ll confess...!”

She yawns Smile, repeating the sentence for three times the same sentence.

“Today...!”

She falls back on the hammock after saying “today I’ll confess” for the fifth time.

“Nope.”

She mutters.

She gave up, again.

Then, suddenly, she heard footsteps, she sits up again and opens her sleepy eyes.

“Hm...? Oh... hey A-“

She affirms tiredly, when suddenly Ajay slammed in her face a paper, and after teleported away.

“Hmmmm.................?” She slowly starts to wake up.

“AH! OH!-“ She exclaims.

Good morning Smile, finally waking up.

“What- what just happened? What-“

She stutters confused, after turning back in a skeleton.

She looks around, she could swear that Ajay was right in front of her, right now... But there was a paper on her lap, kinda ruined, but still, a piece of paper.

She grabs it.

“I LOVE YOU SMILEY”

That’s what was wrote on it.

She inhales some air, her face was total blue. Then, she screams.

“WHAT THE F*CK!?”

The announcement:

AJAY X SMILE IS CANON!