#I feel like at the end of the year it’s always nice to look back at everything you have drawn and

[aribluedreams]

Under the mistletoe

Quinn Hughes x reader.

Summary: It’s all fun and games until you meet with Jack under the mistletoe Quinn put around the lake house.

Warnings: none.

Masterlist!

Everthing was perfect.

The christmas tree perfectly standing in the corner of the lake house, the lights iluminating the whole place giving the life that it deserves. The smell of food could be notice around the whole place, indicating his mother was cooking her famous dish thanks to Luke’ insistence. And the subtle calm music could be heard from the living room, where his girl was suppose to be right now. To Quinn Hughes, that day couldn’t be more perfect, even if he wasn’t exactly a fan of celebrating much.

But, today was an exception. Because after seeing this idea around the whole internet, he though he might as well try it. After all, he was sure you wouldn’t mind the idea of kissing under the mistletoe from time to time. He put them in specific places where he knew only you will be able to find it. Like the entrance of your shared room, the little cozy hammoc at the back yard that his father clean up nicely for you last year, or even on top of the board behind your bed.

He thought he was a genius.

Until, of course, he realice that he wasn’t the only one who might enter your shared room. When his younger brother knock on the door to ask for a t shirt he didn’t even know he had with him. Jack should have enter like he always does, without a care on the world, and take what he needed like he normaly did.

But no. This time, he tried to be polite because he knew you were there, and entering the room like that might end up badly. Not as bad as right now, Quinn thought. Right when he got out of bathroom after taking a shower, looking for some clothes.

And instead, finding a rather odd situation.

That’s when he realice how much of a bad idea was to put mistletoe everywhere when there were other people around the house. It would have been cute if it was his parents, maybe even Luke and the girl he swore was just his friend. But no. No, no, no. This time, under the mistletoe, was his lovely girlfriend and his horrendous brother, Jack. Both looking at each other with surprise at first, followed by a flick of amusement in their eyes when they realice Quinn was about to lose his mind.

“¡No! ¡No! ¡No!”

Quinn didin’t even hesitate to move, passing both arms around his partner to not only move her closer to him, but also away from his brother. The same boy who laughed right at his face at the look of despair in him, clearly enjoying the idea of pissing him off. Maybe also enjoying the idea of at least get a kiss on the cheek from you, but that was a story for another day.

“What’s the matter, Q?” Jack smile with fake inocence at him “You put them around the house, you should have known better”

“Shut up and get out of here already!”

“But I didn’t get my kiss!” Jack fake protested “I can’t leave without it!”

“And you’ll never have it!” Quinn almost kill him for that, with his girl laughing in between his arms “You better stay hundreds of meters away from her, you hear me!?”

“Boring”

Jack made fun of him with that, shaking his head a little bit while finally moving away from the entrance of the room. To be honest, he forgot about the shirt when he though he would at least get a kiss on the cheek from his sister in law. But, he didn’t forget how much he loved bullying Quinn, because he was sure he was never going to let him leave this down ever again.

“It’s okay, Jack” she said amuse “I can kiss you later”

She wouldn’t.

But she liked messing with Quinn too.

“No you won’t!”

Quinn’s answer made his partner giggle, feeling the jealousy in him while he moved her away from there, closing the door behind their backs. Of course, not without almost tearing the mistletoe from it, swearing to himself that he would burn every single one of it for the end of the day.

“You are cute when you are jealous”

She would never let him forget that either.

[ledesaid]

Billy body-swaps #7

╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║

boom de yada...

boom...

de...

yada...boom de yada

Superman: Marvel... It's almost time, are you ready?

Billy: Yes, I just wanted to look at the Earth a little more... maybe I'll be you in a second or with Green Lantern on Oa... we have five minutes before jumping.

Superman: Take your time. If you fall asleep, I'll take you to your room, don't worry.

Billy: Thanks, Clark.

Clark: It's fine, Billy.

They've talked about some changes since he told them his biggest secret. Many really gigantic changes...

Billy walks towards his room. Yes!

Now he has a room!

And he lives in the Watchtower. Boom!

That was the big news!

Yay?

It's not what he had planned, but it must make sense and he still finds it hard to grasp.

One minute to midnight.

Time for his weekly jump...

Oh, you didn't know? Well, now he jumps weekly.

That's what happens when you force a jump. A small price to pay if the world was saved from Doomsday.

Ohhh!

...: And then he pierced his heart with a harpoon!

Billy: What?

...: What? Now are you enthralled by looking? You must truly join, Snart!

Billy: I don't drink.

...: Are you going to leave your friend Mick with the drink?

Billy: I don't drink.

Mick: You always say the same thing, but what's wrong with you today? You look like you've seen a ghost...

And it starts!

Billy runs out of there as fast as he can without looking back. This brings back memories of Barry and his marriage proposal. But he wasn't in a nice café...

He had ended up in a random place, with random people instead of one of his League teammates' houses.

True, that was the second piece of news!

<He's an official member of the Justice League>

That didn't sound in Billy's mind with the excitement he expected...

Back to the slow-speed chase. Billy has run out like a soul being chased by the devil.

There aren't many places to hide in a residential neighborhood. Literally, there aren't even public phones to call...

Well... here's a problem.

Billy hadn't considered a scenario where an emergency extraction was necessary under these circumstances.

With the frequency of the changes and the fact that he has only possessed League members, always in safe spaces... Doomsday doesn't count... He really should have.

Batman did, obviously Batman did...

But... But Billy feels guilty for not doing his part. He only remembers the first four digits... He swears he was going to learn the rest next week.

This new host only has a disposable phone.

He thinks he must run for the next few hours and everything will be fine...

Yes...

Just run for twelve hours straight with someone on your heels.

Mick: Snart! Stop running!

Billy: No! Stay away!

Heavens? What would Superman do?

Well... there's this trick of... No... he doubts it would work... But... But... would Superman answer long-distance calls?

Billy: I'm Marvel!... and I need a super extraction!

Not much happens after that except for a tackle from the pursuer.

....

Batman: So... potential heroes? He is one?

Flash: Yes! I want to speak for Snart, I've fought him for years, but I've seen that potential and we need to talk about how he helped in the last crisis. Please, Bruce, believe me... I can feel it, I'm not wrong about him...

Batman: It will be put to a League vote, but we need to monitor him every Sunday... and deploy a global plan. With Snart on the jump list, we must consider that every villain or even civilians could be potential hosts for Billy.

Diana: Meanwhile, Leonard Snart must give his word and commitment... We can't expose Billy to this rogue. Whether he has potential or not. He's committed enough crimes to keep him locked up for a good time if there isn't a commitment.

Flash: Guys... Friends, you know me and I ask you to trust me... I'll vouch for Leonard...

....

Jon E: How's that hit, Marvel?

Billy: Nothing a cold steak can't fix.

Jon E: We have something better.

Billy: Ice cream?

Jon E: I left a tub in the fridge next to the vaccines, don't tell Batman.

Billy: Thanks, Jon! Can we use some magic to heal this wound? I wouldn't like Snart to have to deal with this when he gets control back.

Jon E: Zatanna is on duty, I can call her after you finish your ice cream.

Billy: Well, I think I'm going to need more ice cream if I end up like Lex Luthor or Swamp Thing.

Jon E: Let's hope not.

╣╣╣╣╣╣╣

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | U are here

[artstennisracket]

i neeeeed artrick dom/sub dynamic in my life. art and pat own each other in such a unique way and i feel like that translates over to intimacy as well. not necessarily in a way where one is always in charge, i think it kinda goes both ways. i’m not articulating this well but still

i trust you to get the vision.

i’m picking up what ur putting down anon😉, I hope you likeeeee :)

cw: dom/sub undertones but now that im really looking at it idek if i did this prompt correctly😭 and there’s no smut in this

*just realized this prompt literally states intimacy im so sorry anon I will work on a part 2

Patrick and Art have a been a package deal since they started the academy. After they became roommates that fateful day, they’ve been inseparable.

Most people would describe their relationship as…honestly pretty gay tbh. But Art and Patrick didn’t have to explain themselves to anyone. Sure they cuddled to go to sleep sometimes, and maybe there were like two times (ten times) they’ve masturbated together. Other than that they consider themselves your stereotypical best friends.

But there was certain dynamics in play. Of course they were subliminal, never outspoken. Art and Patrick had a very unique understanding of each other that transcended verbal communication.

There was a time when Art was being really indecisive of what shirt he wanted to wear to go see his girlfriend later. He was wearing his tiny little briefs, damp curls sticking to his forehead. He felt like he had gone through every single shirt he owned but none of them felt good enough.

Patrick walked out the bathroom, observing the mess Art had made with his clothes everywhere. Patrick smirked as he walked over to their bed picking up a blue polo and holding it up for Art.

“wear this one,” Patrick tilts his head to the side like he’s trying to envision Art wearing the shirt, “brings out your eyes.”

Now what the fuck does Patrick know about fashion. Art scoffs, “yeah sure, whatever,” as he pulls the polo on over his head.

Art can be really indecisive at times, his mind running 10 miles a minute. Now every time he starts to spiral, overthinking about what he should wear, Patrick will just pick his clothes out for him. Even though Art would always make a dismissive remark about how he can pick his own clothes, he did really appreciate Patrick doing it for him. Sometimes he really just needed someone to make a decision for him but he’d never say that out loud. Especially when they had to pick places to go out to eat it was like pulling teeth.

“i don’t know where i wanna go man, i’m good with whatever.” Art shrugs.

Patrick groans, “that doesn’t fucking help, there’s a million places we could go and i know if I suggest something you don’t like you’re just going to complain.”

Art lets out an exasperated sigh falling back onto their bed, “can you please just pick something for me?”

Now that was a first. Art never usually just says he wants Patrick to choose. Maybe it’s because they just shared a joint. Since he was nice enough to ask, Patrick indulges and drives them to get subs at the nearest sandwich shop.

Patrick picked up on how indecisive Art actually is years ago and sometimes he’ll tease Art about it, but he always ends up giving in and making the decision when he knows Art can’t. That means that almost anytime they go out to eat Patrick has to choose. Even when they eat in the cafeteria and Art can’t decide between a chicken sandwich and pizza, Patrick chooses for him. And in return Art would order extra of whatever he’s eating so that Patrick could have some too.

Patrick was like a black hole. He could eat an entire box of pizza if it came down to it. Art didn’t really care because he doesn’t always finish his own food so he’d give the rest to Patrick. That way there’s no waste. Or when Art takes the pickles off his burger, Patrick would be right there ready to eat them up.

So even though Art never expresses appreciation verbally, Patrick knew deep down Art did appreciate it and would go with whatever decision Patrick would make.

There were also times when Patrick needed Art too though.

Patrick wasn’t the best at time management. Between practice and school, sometimes he would forgot to study or do his homework on time. But if his grades fall below a B he won’t be able to do tennis anymore, so Art made sure that wouldn’t happen.

They had a system where Art wouldn’t speak to Patrick until all his work was finished (unless he needed help with it). It was hard at first.

“you’re really not gonna talk to me?” Patrick asks, dropping his backpack onto the floor.

Art nods from where he’s sitting on their bed reading a book.

Patrick scoffs before he toes off his shoes. He climbs onto their bed snatching Art’s book from him. “c’mon its just homework blondie, i promise i can get it done without the silent treatment”

Art looks at him, raising one eyebrow before he shakes his head no, crossing his arms over his chest.

Patrick smirks pointing to himself, “really? you’re gonna say no to this face?”

Art scoffs laughing and nods again as he messes up Patrick’s hair and pushes his head away.

Patrick groans getting off the bed to make his way to his desk and setting up his homework.

It wasn’t ideal but it was the only way Art could get him to actually do his homework. If Patrick can’t get distracted talking a mile a minute, then he could focus on homework. No video games, no TV, no leaving, just Patrick and his homework.

It took Patrick so long to adjust to but eventually it started working like a charm. Patrick would be done with his homework within the hour and everything could go back to normal.

Going home for break was always rough for them since being apart was difficult. But it was particularly rough for Patrick because going home meant being in the same place as his father.

Patrick had been fighting with his father for as long as he can remember. Always standing up for himself since nobody else would. He wasn’t sure why his dad always hated him without reason but after Patrick’s sister had outed him to their parents after he confided in her in confidence, his dad had made it his personal mission to make Patrick very aware how he feels about Patrick’s “lifestyle choices”.

So going home was hell, especially when Art couldn’t come home with him. Art’s grandma’s birthday was coming up and Art’s parents wanted to go visit her so Art had decided to go home for break instead of going with Patrick.

Art was no stranger to receiving calls from Patrick about his dad, it happened every single time they went home for any type of break during school. Most times it was Patrick being very angry and Art would calm him down so Patrick wouldn’t doing anything rash. Other times it was Patrick on the brink of tears over something disrespectful his dad said to him.

Over the course of break, Patrick would get into multiple screaming matches his dad and every single time he would find himself on the phone with Art shortly after. Confiding in Art so he wouldn’t have a breakdown every time. But there was a particular fight that put Patrick over the edge.

ring ring

“hey man, what’s up?” Art asks.

Patrick goes to start his sentence but can feel himself on the brink of tears. He didn’t want to cry right now. He takes a deep breath, his voice wavering, “i can’t stay here anymore.”

Art can hear the hurt in Patrick’s voice and his face visibly softens. His takes a beat before he says, “what did he do?”

Patrick looks up to his ceiling, blinking back the tears that threaten to escape, “i cant—,” his voice cracks, “i don’t want to stay where im not wanted. you didn’t see the way—” and that’s all it really take for the flood gates to open. Patrick is crying full force now because all he can think about is how much his dad actually hates him.

Before it was more subtle but now it was outright. In their last fight his dad had ended it by saying, and if you think i’m going to ever publicly support having a faggot son you got another thing coming. as a matter of fact, i don’t even have a son at all anymore. get out of my sight.

It wasn’t even the words that broke Patrick, it was the way his dad looked at him. A lot of emotions were written across his face like anger and disgust, but his eyes? It was as if he was looking through Patrick, like Patrick didn’t exist. Like he didn’t care if Patrick lived or died. Like he was nothing.

“art i cant— i just cant stay here.” Patrick chokes out between sobs.

“hey, hey, its okay. do you want me to come? you can stay with us for the rest of break.” Art responds softly. Luckily they only live about 4 hours away from each other. But Art has already started driving speeding from the second Patrick called him so there’s maybe about 3 and a half hours left to go.

Patrick nods forgetting Art cant see him. He sniffles, “please.”

“m’ already on my way but we can stay on the phone until i get there. but now im gonna need you to do something for me. can you take some deep breaths for me?”

Patrick nods again, using his hands to wipe the tears from his face. They take a few deep breaths together, Art coaching Patrick through it and counting out loud.

“you did a really good job, now i want you to drink some water and pack your stuff okay?”

Patrick packed his bag and they stayed on the phone until Art came and picked him up. Art would listen to Patrick rant about his dad a thousand times over if it meant Patrick would actually feel even the tiniest bit better afterwards. But he would always be there for Patrick no matter what. He would walk though hell and back if it meant Patrick would be okay.

When they got back to Art’s house Art made sure to do everything he could to turn Patrick’s brain off so he wouldn’t think about his dad anymore. They played video games, watched movies, and ordered food.

That night they cuddled in Art’s bed. Patrick’s head rested on Art’s chest while Art mindlessly played with Patrick’s curls until he fell asleep.

[revvethasmythh]

sorry, i'm new to the fandom but i instantly fell in love with widobrave….. is the ship really that unpopular?

well first, hello, and welcome to the fandom!! (both cr and widobrave!)

second, i think it's actually difficult for me to track how popular/unpopular widobrave is right now in the fandom, and i only started shipping it in 2020 so I can't give a full historical perspective on what the shipping scene looked like at the beginning besides what i've heard (people thought nott was a child at the very beginning of the show, then it turned into "nott is caleb's mom!" after that, and i'll exempt some further details in case you don't want any potential spoilers since you're new and I don't know how much you know, but those two things did a lot to make the ship....undesirable to the masses, shall we say). from my own perspective, I remember going into the ship and feeling like it was fairly fringe back in 2020 (and it was). small group of people, usually exclusively nott stans, were like the only people you'd see shipping it and a lot of people reacted negatively to the idea of the ship. there was an undercurrent that it was bad because some found it "incestuous" due to feeling like nott was caleb's mother (a thing that it not true in either the literal or metaphorical capacity!) and this has been the most persistent pushback against the ship that i am aware of. generally, back in the day, there was a sense that nott couldn't seriously be shipped with anyone, but especially not someone she thought of as "her kid," much as that's simply a popularly proliferated misunderstanding of ONE scene in the entire show.

the current state of widobrave affairs? i honestly don't know. it's certainly still a very small ship, but there's been a LOT of lightening up about it in the years since the campaign ended. i've seen a lot more neutral-positive opinions toward it, whereas in years past...i mean, i've been blocked just for shipping it. i've seen more than one "do NOT tag this as widobrave" statement on art pieces, like...it was considered FRINGE once upon a time. but i feel like it's stopped being fringe and is now just...small? again, it's usually exclusively nott stans that ship it, so already not a big pool of people just based on that. it's certainly not mainsteam or anything, but i certainly feel more comfortable maintagging my widobrave posts these days than i used to. i think a lot of people just don't want to look at the relationship in a romantic light, despite the fact that in most circumstances their initial setup would have been a HUGE jumping off point for shipping (just look at the immediacy of imogen/laudna shipping, who share practically the same backstory/relationship setup), and generally prefer the other, bigger ships in the fandom. it would probably take a dissertation's worth of explanation to dig into all the reasons why that is, but that is generally where the ship sits in the fandom.

if anyone has more insight on the history of the ship's fandom reception/current reception, i'd love to hear it since it missed out on those founding years! and again, a hearty to welcome to the fandom! it's always nice to see an new widobraver around

[mortalityfixer]

my experience with roiz .

( as best i can remember )

warning for lesbiphobia , ableism , manipulation , transphobia ( ? ) , grooming / sexual harassment , potential faking of physical disorders , mental health struggles / episodes .

i first met roiz a few years back ! we didn’t really talk much , until later on that year . he became more active in my server due to our mutual interest in " melliot " musicals . he seemed nice at first . maybe a little off sometimes , but nice . though this quickly changed and i grew uncomfortable . i didn’t speak up at this time — due to fear of losing someone i had grown to borderline depend on in such a short timeframe . let it be known that i am not trying to one - up anybody else ; this is purely my experience with him . nor do i feel as though my experience was worse than the victims of his sexual grooming : it wasn’t . my heart goes to each and every one of his victims .

one of the main things that sticks out to me is the way roiz would treat me regarding my identity . he seemed to view me as a cisgender lesbian ? which confused me , as i am very much not . he would also constantly make lesbiphobic jokes towards me, such as putting lesbians on his official introduction post as a ' joke ' targeted at me . this was almost neverending and made me feel incredibly invalid and insecure in my identity and who i was as a person . i started to feel like i would never be more than the " token lesbian friend " to people due to the way he would act around me whenever i mentioned my orientation , and this eventually led to a horrible mental health spiral where i truly didn’t know who i was anymore , or if i was worthy of being known as anything other than ' the lesbian friend . ' he would also only ever address me using feminine terms , when i have always been open about using all terms . i wouldn’t mind feminine terms sometimes ! but it wasn’t sometimes , as he would never use any other form .

another thing that i remember about our friendship was the way he would treat me as a disabled person . to add context to this , i have a medically recognised joint disorder which causes mobility issues alongside other things . he would make comments such as " blud can’t run " unprovoked . he did this whilst we were referencing adamandi characters ; none of which have mobility issues . additionally , he would claim to have the same issues as me shortly after i talked about them — prior to me discussing them , he had never mentioned any form of physical disability . i won’t go into any more detail about this specific aspect of our friendship , as there’s not much else to state , as well as my own struggles remembering the situation .

most importantly of all : roiz was my friend whilst engaging in inappropriate sexual contact with an eleven year old . i never picked up on it despite it being extremely clear looking back , and i would have never befriended him had i known he was doing this ; i was manipulated into believing otherwise . roiz also claimed that this person had ' abandoned him ' after they temporarily broke contact , evoking a feeling of sympathy from me towards roiz that i really shouldn’t have felt at all . however , i did notice that he would initiate sexual or otherwise inappropriate conversations in a public server with exclusively minors . it later came out that the one on the receiving end of these conversations was , in fact , an eleven year old boy being groomed by roiz . this eleven year old was — as you may have figured out already — my good friend over at @\haowenyang , who also has a post about the situation . i recommend reading it as he is the true victim here , not me . you can find that post here .

that just about sums up my experience with this vile , sickening person . once again , i am not trying to claim that my situation was worse than those he sexually harassed and / or groomed . i do however feel it is important to get it out there . this may not be entirely accurate and there may be some gaps , as my memories of my friendship with roiz have become fuzzy and unclear . but i felt it was important to share either way . thank you for taking the time to read this .

[gainercontent]

Room to Grow Part 8: The End

It had been weeks since Josh had helped Elliot through his emotional breakdown, and despite the occasional tug of guilt or uncertainty, Elliot was starting to feel more comfortable in his own skin. Josh had been right—accepting where he was now, letting go of who he used to be, was the first step. Things were different, but that didn’t mean they had to be bad.

Still, there was one thing left unresolved. The third bedroom in their apartment had been empty for months. It wasn’t like they were actively searching for a new roommate, but as the rent due date loomed and their space began to feel quieter, they figured it was time to find someone. 

One evening, Josh came in holding some papers. “Got someone coming by to check out the room. He’s coming in about an hour.”

Elliot leaned back in his chair, eyeing the flyer. “How’s he look?”

“Seems cool. Got a job, is laid-back, and he’s been looking for a place for a while.” Josh sounded casual, but there was a glint of something else in his eye. “Oh, and he’s, uh… pretty fit.”

Elliot froze at the last part. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him, but it did. It wasn’t like he was self-conscious about his body—well, not *all* the time—but the thought of another fit person living in the apartment felt... unsettling. Like a reminder of the person he used to be.

But Josh was already heading to the door to prep the room. Elliot sighed, shaking off the sudden discomfort. It wasn’t like he could avoid it. *Besides, this guy is just a roommate. Nothing more.*

An hour later, the doorbell rang.

Josh answered it first, greeting the man with a smile. The new guy, named Derek, stepped inside with a relaxed smile and a firm handshake. He was tall—maybe 6’1”—with a broad, athletic build, and a confident posture that suggested he spent time working on it. His T-shirt clung to his chest in a way that made Elliot feel hyper-aware of his own soft form beneath his hoodie.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Derek said, his voice smooth and friendly.

“Yeah, good to meet you too,” Elliot said, forcing a smile as he stood up. He offered a handshake, but Derek gave him a quick, brotherly shoulder clap instead, his grip warm and firm.

“Well, it looks like a good place,” Derek commented, looking around the apartment. “I’ve been in smaller, definitely. How are you guys with food? I’m not picky, but I like a little variety.” 

Josh chuckled. “Well, we’re kind of a *takeout* house around here.”

Elliot didn’t mention that they were more of a *gorging* house, but he kept it to himself.

The tour of the apartment was brief, and Derek seemed impressed with everything. But it wasn’t until the next day that things began to shift.

Derek officially moved in, bringing in a small amount of belongings. He had a clean, minimalist vibe to his style—clothes neatly folded, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His protein shaker was visible on the kitchen counter, a reminder of his routine. But things started to get interesting when he made his first trip to the living room in the evening.

Josh was already sprawled on the couch, game controller in hand, a half-eaten pizza box beside him.

Elliot was in his usual spot, his belly still recovering from the last food binge, a container of fries and a milkshake in front of him. 

Derek hesitated at the scene in front of him. “Uh… you guys always eat like this?” he asked, a chuckle in his voice, though it didn’t come off as judgmental. 

“Pretty much,” Josh grinned, popping a slice into his mouth. “We’re not big on salads around here. More into burgers, pizza, wings—you know, the essentials.”

Elliot gave a half-hearted grin as he took another sip of his shake, his stomach still swollen from his earlier indulgence. “We like our food,” he said, almost apologetically, as if he had to justify their habits. But Derek’s smile only grew.

“That’s… pretty cool actually,” Derek said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been on a strict diet for the last few years. Eating clean and all that, but honestly, it sounds fun to just… eat whatever.”

Josh’s eyes lit up at the mention of *whatever*. “Oh, you’re in for a treat, man. You’ll get used to it.”

And *used to it* he got. At first, Derek would show restraint—eating smaller portions, occasionally laughing at the idea of eating as much as Josh or Elliot. But as the days passed, things started to change. The first sign came when Derek joined them for takeout on a Wednesday night.

Elliot and Josh had ordered a double portion of Chinese food, and Derek had opted for a small bowl of steamed chicken and vegetables. But by the time the food arrived, Josh was already digging in, taking bites of his egg rolls and laughing at some ridiculous joke he’d made. 

Derek, clearly curious, grabbed a wonton chip and dipped it into some sweet-and-sour sauce. It wasn’t much at first, just a few chips, but then his plate started to look less clean. By the end of the night, Derek was half-finished with a second serving of fried rice, and Josh was grinning like he’d just introduced a new recruit into the *eating* fold.

The next night was more of the same. Derek had already devoured an entire slice of pizza before he even realized it. 

“Wow,” Derek said between bites. “You guys were right. This *is* fun. I haven’t had pizza like this in forever.”

From that point on, Derek seemed to fully adopt their unhealthy lifestyle. He started ordering more frequently. A burger one day, Chinese food the next. It wasn’t long before his protein shakes were replaced by milkshakes from the local diner, and his lean, athletic build began to soften. His abs, which were once clearly defined, were hidden under a layer of new softness that he seemed to brush off with a laugh.

At first, Elliot didn’t think much of it. He was too focused on himself, on his own habits, to really notice how things were changing for Derek. But over time, he began to see the evidence. Derek was starting to wear clothes that were just a bit too tight around his chest and stomach. His shirts stretched slightly, and his usual athleticism seemed to be fading.

One evening, after a particularly large feast of burritos and nachos, Derek slumped onto the couch, his stomach round and swollen.

“Man,” he sighed, rubbing his belly, “I can’t believe how much I ate. I used to never eat like this. What’s happening to me?”

Josh laughed, patting his own belly with a playful grin. “Welcome to the club, dude. You’re one of us now.”

Derek looked at him, unsure if he was joking. “You really think so?”

Josh grinned wide. “Oh yeah. No going back now. It’s a lifestyle.” He nudged Elliot, who just shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. “We don’t count calories around here, we just count bites.”

Elliot laughed, but he felt a strange sense of pride as he watched Derek, someone who was once so disciplined, sink deeper into their world. Derek was letting go of his old habits, and with each pizza box, burrito wrapper, and milkshake container, he seemed to be embracing a new reality.

Months had passed since Derek moved in, and the three roommates had become more than just fellow tenants—they had become a tight-knit, food-loving family. What had started as a subtle shift in their habits had transformed into a full-on lifestyle. With every passing day, the apartment had become more familiar with the smells of greasy takeout, fast food wrappers, and the sounds of laughter punctuated by the occasional groan of a full stomach. But somewhere along the way, they stopped noticing the gradual changes that were taking place in their bodies.

Elliot had never been the kind of guy to obsess over the mirror. But now, when he caught a glimpse of himself, he couldn’t help but notice how different he looked. The transformation since first moving in had been slow, a gradual bloating at first, then a steady softening of his once lean frame. His once toned stomach had become round, with a noticeable layer of fat that jutted out when he sat down. When he walked, his belly hung just over the waistband of his jeans, pushing the fabric tight against his skin. His chest, which used to be flat, had filled out as well, no longer resembling the slim, defined shape he had once been proud of. 

Elliot now wore oversized hoodies almost constantly to hide his new size, though even they were starting to feel tight across his shoulders and around his midsection. His sweatpants, once a comfortable fit, had become increasingly tight around the waist, forcing him to adjust the waistband constantly. It wasn’t that his clothes were too small—they were stretched out of shape from constant use.. His T-shirts now hung snugly around his shoulders and stomach, emphasizing the roundness of his belly rather than the slight build he used to have.

When he stepped on the scale a few weeks ago, the number that flashed back at him was startling: **268 pounds**. At 5'11", that was a significant gain from his previous weight of 160. The weight wasn’t just visible on his belly but had started to accumulate in his face too. His jawline had softened, his cheeks rounder, and his double chin was more prominent when he looked down at himself. He could feel it in his knees, too—the occasional soreness, the feeling of pressure when he climbed stairs or moved quickly. But instead of fighting it, he had grown used to the idea of his body as it was. He wasn’t sure if it was self-acceptance or if he had simply given up, but either way, he couldn’t help but enjoy the ease with which he could eat whatever he wanted.

But there were some downsides. Elliot had trouble finding clothes that fit right. His once-favorite jeans now felt suffocating when buttoned, and his shirts clung uncomfortably to his midsection. His belly pushed out even when standing, a visible sign of how much he had gained. And though his energy levels had dipped, he tried to ignore the frequent exhaustion and the feeling of being sluggish. It didn’t help that he often found himself winded after short walks or climbing a few flights of stairs. 

It wasn’t just his clothes that were different; Elliot could feel it in every movement. His thighs rubbed together when he walked, the inner seams of his sweatpants stretched tight. When he stood up after sitting for a while, he would often groan, pushing himself up with his hands, his legs aching with the weight. His once-shapely arms were now soft, with rolls forming at the elbow and the top of his biceps. The muscles that had once been lean were now hidden beneath layers of fat.

His face, too, had changed. Where once he had sported a defined jawline, now his cheeks had rounded out, and the faint beginnings of a double chin were evident when he looked down at his body. He often caught himself staring at his reflection, confused, almost a little horrified, by the person looking back. But then he’d remember the comfort of a warm meal, a cold drink, and the laughs shared with Josh and Derek, and the guilt would melt away. 

Derek had been the most fit when he moved in. A regular at the gym, his body was lean, toned, and muscular—what many might call “beach body ready.” But within months of living with Josh and Elliot, Derek’s physique had begun to change as well. He’d started out cautious, still opting for his usual protein shakes and lean meals, but eventually, the lure of late-night pizza, takeout dinners, and the easy pleasure of a good milkshake had worn him down. 

Derek’s transformation had been equally dramatic as Elliot's. Where he had once been a solid, athletic build—proud of his thick muscles and broad shoulders—he was now... softer. His body had thickened in ways he hadn’t anticipated. His biceps were still strong, but they were now hidden beneath layers of fat. His once-flat stomach had grown into a pronounced paunch that hung over the top of his sweatpants when he sat, something he’d never imagined happening to himself.

Derek’s weight had ballooned from 185 pounds to just under 210. His muscles were still there, but now they were covered with a cushion of fat that made his once-ripped abs and chiseled chest unrecognizable. His chest, still large and broad, lost its sharp lines, and now sagged with the weight, and his love handles hung over the waistband of his pants in a noticeable roll. His arms, which had once been sculpted from years of gym work, had become soft logs, with a thick layer of flab now obscuring the definition. The fat around his neck had begun to grow, and he could feel his breathing become heavier as he moved about the apartment.

His wardrobe had gone from well-fitted clothes to bigger sizes. His T-shirts, once snug in a flattering way, now stretched across his chest and beer gut, and his jeans had transformed into sweatpants or the stretchy, drawstring kinds of pants that allowed him to binge eat without any restriction. At his heaviest, Josh had to buy size L and XL shirts and his 34 waist pants were getting too tight around the waist and thighs.

Like Elliot, Derek found that his energy levels had decreased. He often struggled to make it through a full day of work without needing a nap or an extended break. His knees hurt more often than they had before, and though he tried to avoid the mirror when he could, he was still acutely aware of how his appearance had changed.

Josh had always been the largest of the three, but now he was something else entirely. He had put on over 45 pounds, bringing his weight up to about 300 pounds, a shift from his initial weight of 255. His arms, once slightly defined, had softened into thick, rounded shapes. His chest, which had once been a beefy display of fat and muscle, now looked round and sagged, the contours of his pecs disappeared behind a thick layer of fat moobs. His stomach, which had already been a substantial sized belly, now his largest feature. Derek had gone from wearing 36 inch jeans to wearing 42 waist pants that were now tight around his waist and thighs. He often found himself tugging at the waistband of his shorts, trying to ease the discomfort.

When he walked, the thick rolls of fat around his middle swayed with every step. His once-tight abs had been replaced with a large, rounded belly that seemed to have a life of its own. It pressed uncomfortably against the front of his shirts, and he had long since moved up to 3XL T-shirts and needing 44 waist jeans. Even those were starting to stretch tight across his stomach, forcing him to either leave his shirts untucked or let his pants sag under the weight. He had given up on jeans altogether, preferring the comfort of sweatpants or stretchy shorts that could accommodate his growing size.

Josh’s face, once sharp and angular, was now round, with full cheeks and a soft double chin that had become more prominent in the last few months. His arms, which used to be thick with muscle, now felt heavy and sluggish, the muscles buried beneath thick layers of fat. When he caught sight of his reflection, he often felt a twinge of embarrassment. His body had become so large that he had trouble fitting into the chair at his desk, his belly spilling over the sides and making it hard to move his legs comfortably.

His joints, particularly his knees and hips, had begun to ache more frequently, and his breathing had grown heavier. There were moments when he felt out of breath after standing for too long, and he often had to catch his breath after walking from one room to another. Yet, despite these discomforts, Josh had grown to love the lifestyle they had cultivated. The food, the indulgence, the carefree attitude—it was a release from everything that used to matter.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that had changed. His joints ached more frequently, and his breath came a little heavier as he climbed the stairs or jogged in place. Derek had even noticed the faintest puffiness around his ankles and wrists, signs of his body holding onto more fat than it used to. His face, which had once been angular, was now rounder, with a soft layer of chub around his cheeks.

The three roommates’ days now followed a familiar pattern. They woke up, had a massive breakfast—eggs, bacon, pancakes, and coffee—and then spent the day lounging or playing video games. When hunger struck again, they’d order takeout. Pizza, Chinese food, burgers, fried chicken—whatever it was, it was always an indulgence. Dinner usually consisted of even larger portions, accompanied by sugary snacks and sometimes a late-night dessert. Every meal was a marathon of food and indulgence, and they ate until they couldn’t move. 

But as their bodies grew, the discomfort began to catch up with them. Elliot found himself getting winded more easily, needing breaks after short walks, or even after standing for extended periods. The belly bloating was the worst—after a big meal, it wasn’t just full—it was tight and painful. There were days when Elliot had to lay down on the couch, his belly aching, his body protesting the overload of food. Derek, too, often complained of feeling sluggish, and Josh’s feet had begun to give him trouble, making it harder to get around.

And yet, despite all of this, the three men never thought about changing their habits. They’d laugh about their growing size, joke about the “good life,” and continue to indulge, day in and day out. The weight was heavy on their bodies, but it had become so deeply ingrained in their routine that it no longer felt like something they could—or wanted—to fight.

In this new life, their bodies had changed. They had grown in ways they hadn’t expected. But it wasn’t just their weight that had shifted—it was their entire way of living. And in some ways, they were happier for it, embracing their new reality, one meal at a time.

[alittlegiraffe]

Hiiiiiii

I wanted to ask, no I wanted to request if you could maybe something like Marshall meets a not much younger woman (like three years younger or something similar) simply in a take coffee shop (let’s do he is their with Hailey and it’s her favourite coffee shop) and reader is the cashier and know Hailey pretty good as they both are friends (maybe because they met somewhere else and just got friends or so) so as she sees Hailey walks in she already make’s Hailey’s usual Coffee abd even before Hailey can get in Line, calls Yn loud through the entire Coffee shop “Hailey” out. (yn is a hard working Person, and often overworks herself to the absolute maximum, often forgets to drink to eat to sleep, but always has a smile on her lips just to kind for the world, let’s also do she doesn’t know she can sing or rap as she was told often by false friends she can’t sing so she stopped and started to think like that) so Hailey gets her coffee and quickly ask for Marshall for some other drink. Yn smiles and nods and start making the drink and hums quietly while doing. Marshall sees potential

From here it’s the best you take over

you don’t have to but it would be nice

A/N: Hey love!!! I hope you like this. This is the story your request inspired!

Title: Sunday Mornings & Second Chances

Every Sunday morning, without fail, Marshall and Hailie walked into the same little coffee shop. It had become their thing—an unspoken tradition that started years ago when she left for college. Now, even though she was grown, they still met here, catching up over coffee and pastries, just the two of them.

And, of course, you.

You owned the shop, and from the moment they became regulars, you had a way of making them feel at home. Maybe it was the way you always remembered their orders—black coffee for Marshall, a caramel latte for Hailie. Or maybe it was your laugh, warm and genuine, the way you teased Marshall when he grumbled about overpriced pastries but still bought one every time.

At first, Marshall didn’t think much of it. He wasn’t looking for anything, especially not in a place like this. But then there were the small things—the way your eyes always seemed to linger on him a second too long, the way you bit your lip when he said something unexpectedly funny, like you were trying not to laugh too hard.

And Hailie noticed.

She never pushed, never said anything outright, but she nudged—just enough.

“You know, Dad, she always seems happy to see you,” Hailie mused one morning, stirring her latte.

Marshall snorted. “She’s nice to everyone.”

“Yeah,” Hailie smirked, “but I don’t see her slipping extra cinnamon rolls to just anyone.”

Marshall glanced down at his plate—sure enough, an extra pastry sat there, one you hadn’t charged him for. He looked up toward the counter where you stood, wiping your hands on a towel, stealing a quick glance at him before looking away.

Huh.

The next week, when Hailie “forgot” her sweater at the shop, she insisted they go back inside to get it—giving Marshall just a little more time to talk to you.

The week after that, she got “caught up” in a long text conversation right as you came over to their table, conveniently distracted so that you and Marshall ended up talking a little longer than usual.

It was so subtle that Marshall barely noticed the pattern. But suddenly, he found himself looking forward to Sundays in a way he hadn’t before.

And then, one morning, he lingered after Hailie left—just for a few minutes.

You raised an eyebrow as you wiped down the counter. “No Hailie today?”

“Nah, she had something to do,” Marshall said, hands in his pockets. “Figured I’d still come by.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Just for the coffee?”

He met your gaze, something shifting in the air between you. “Nah,” he admitted, voice softer this time.

You held his stare for a moment, a flicker of understanding passing between you. And just like that, Marshall realized—maybe Hailie hadn’t been so subtle after all.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

First off let me start with. I am so happy that I found your blog. The writing you do is so amazing the details that you put in stories really make me feel like I’m there. You are such an amazing writer. ❤️❤️❤️ Can you please bring my thought to life. Sebastian sallow x reader. They have been friends for since 5th year. The reader has fallen in love with him over the years and it the last day of the 7th year the reader and Sebastian are laying in out by the black lake just talking about different things and reminiscing about different memories over the years then they are quiet just looking at each other in a peaceful state and Sebastian slowly start moving closer like a magnet is pulling him in. He kisses the reader and pulls away quickly and starts apologizing profusely but the reader just shuts him up by pulling him back in to the kiss

Memory Lane | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Thank you so, so much for your support and for such a lovely compliment, I'm just... AH I'm so flattered ;.;

This prompt really inspired me, and I really enjoyed expanding this out. Like this is just... ah, SO many feels! Like I felt so wistful and nostalgic writing this, but then it was so fluffy and sweet, and then there is of course, a happy ending just like you asked!

thank you for the wonderful idea and for trusting me with it!!!

Words: ~3,500

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Fluff, Fluff Again, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Coming of Age

The sun hung low over the Black Lake, casting everything in hues of gold, the water reflecting back a shimmering version of the sky. A warm breeze rolled across the grass, stirring the trees at the water’s edge, and carrying with it the promise of change.

Sebastian stretched out on the grass, hands tucked behind his head, staring up at the sky. He wasn’t sure how long the two of you had been out here. An hour? Maybe two? Time moved differently today—slipping between his fingers even as he tried to hold onto it.

He turned his head slightly to glance at you, to trace the way the late afternoon sunlight kissed your skin, turning you golden at the edges. You had pulled your legs up slightly, bare feet grazing the grass, one hand resting lightly against your stomach, the other mindlessly toying with blades of grass.

You were wearing that pretty blue sundress—the one you had worn a handful of times over the years, usually on Hogsmeade weekends when the weather was nice. It clung to you in the way it always had. But for once, Sebastian wasn’t thinking about how it framed the plush curves of your body, how the neckline dipped just enough to make him forget himself. No—right now, all he could think about was what it meant.

Your wand was nowhere in sight. No uniform, either. No more robes, no more house colors, no more tie knotted at your throat. Because there was no need for them anymore.

It was such a simple thing, and yet his stomach twisted.

It’s over.

This place, these moments—the quiet stretches between classes, the familiar scrape of chairs in the Great Hall, the Undercroft filled with whispered plans and spells flickering in the dark—it was all slipping away, vanishing like smoke curling from a snuffed-out flame.

And you—Merlin, you—would walk out of the castle tomorrow, just like he would, and he had no idea what happened after that.

“You’re quiet,” you murmured.

Sebastian exhaled a laugh through his nose, trying to shove the feeling down. “That’s twice today you’ve pointed that out.”

You hummed, amused but unconvinced. “It’s rare.”

He felt you shift, propping yourself up on your elbows. When he glanced over, your were studying him the way you always did—curious, observant, like you could see straight through him to the things he wasn’t saying.

Sebastian rolled onto his side. “Alright,” he said, forcing some levity into his voice. “What’s your best memory of the last three years?”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s a hard question.”

“I’ll allow a top three, if you’re struggling.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Generous of you.”

“I try.”

You glanced up at the sky, thinking, as your fingers tapped against your stomach, the warm breeze teasing strands of your hair across your face. “Alright… let's see…" you hummed thoughtfully, a smile pulling on your lips. "Well, I'll never forget that night at the Three Broomsticks last year."

Sebastian’s brows lifted, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. “Oh, that night?”

You hummed, amused. “You know exactly which one I mean.”

He did.

He could still see the dim candlelight, smell the rich scent of butterbeer mingling with firewhiskey, hear the warmth of your laughter cutting through the noisy hum of the crowded tavern.

It had started off as a Saturday spent in Hogsmeade, nothing particularly special about it at first. Just the usual browsing through shops and eating too much candy. That night, the two of you snuck off to the Three Broomsticks long after curfew, claiming your usual booth near the back where you could talk in peace.

But that night had spiraled into something else entirely.

Sebastian could still see the flush on your cheeks, hear the unrestrained laughter spilling from your lips after he, five drinks in, had stood on his chair and, with absolutely no shame, started belting out a horribly off-key rendition of Odo the Hero.

The entire tavern had turned to watch. Patrons had been egging him on, slamming their fists against the table in time with the beat. And you?

You had tried—really tried—to keep a straight face, but the moment Sebastian dramatically grabbed a butterbeer bottle as a makeshift microphone and turned to you, winking mid-chorus, you had completely lost it, howling with laughter, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, Sebastian had thought, this is it. This was the moment he wanted to live in forever. Just this. You, beside him, always.

Of course, the moment had ended rather abruptly when the bartender had finally had enough, marching over and dragging him off the chair by the collar of his robe.

Now, lying beside you in the grass, Sebastian stared at your profile, watching the way you smiled softly at the memory.

"Certainly one of my best vocal performances, wouldn't you say?" he mused.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Sebastian, you forgot half the lyrics and improvised the rest.”

“I made it better.”

“You rhymed ‘hero’ with ‘butterbeer-o.’”

“Creative license.”

You laughed, and Sebastian swore he felt the sound of it in his ribs. Light and warm and real.

"One of mine," he said after a beat, "is when we when we snuck out to the Astronomy Tower in sixth year."

Your lips twitched, eyes still fixed on the sky. “You mean when we stole a telescope."

Sebastian huffed a laugh, propping himself up on his elbow. “Borrowed a telescope. With every intention of returning it.”

You turned to him, amusement dancing in your gaze despite your dry tone. “It’s still in the Undercroft.”

“Is it?” He feigned surprise, lips quirking. “How irresponsible of us.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I still can’t believe we didn’t get caught that night.”

Sebastian couldn't either.

He had always been good at slipping past prefects, at charming his way out of trouble when necessary. But that night had been different.

That night, you had pulled him by the hand through the castle, your laughter echoing in the empty corridors, and for once, he hadn’t been thinking about getting caught.

He had been thinking about you.

About the way your fingers had laced through his so easily, the way your smile had glowed under the moonlight when you finally reached the top of the tower.

He remembered the way you had sat cross-legged beside him, chin resting in your palm as you peered through the pilfered telescope, murmuring about constellations in that soft, content way you always did when it was just you and him.

But Sebastian had barely looked through the telescope that night. Couldn’t have cared less about the stars. Because, for him, the moment hadn’t been about what was in the sky. It had been about the way you had leaned against him, absentmindedly close. The way the night had felt endless, the two of you murmuring about everything and nothing, the warmth of your shoulder pressed into his. The way he had wanted to kiss you then—so badly, it had hurt.

And yet, he hadn’t.

Because he hadn’t been sure. Hadn’t been sure if what he wanted was something you wanted, too.

Now, looking at you, a year later, the last golden light of the evening painting you in soft warmth, he wondered if he had been an idiot.

No—he knew he had been an idiot.

"We probably should bring it back," you continued, letting out a sigh. "You know, before we leave and nobody even knows the Undercroft exists."

"Or," he said with a smirk, "we could leave it there. A relic for some unsuspecting student to stumble upon in a hundred years. Let them wonder why a perfectly good telescope was abandoned in a hidden room beneath the castle."

You snorted. "They'll probably assume it's cursed."

Sebastian smirked. "Even better."

That earned him a soft laugh, and he closed his eyes, letting the sound of it settle into his chest.

Then, after a moment—

"Alright," he murmured, voice quieter now. "Your next memory?"

You hesitated for a moment before answering, your voice dipping into something softer, something thoughtful.

"The day we met," you said finally. "Fifth year. My first Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

Sebastian huffed a quiet laugh; he’d never forget that day.

He had noticed you the second you stepped into the classroom—new, unfamiliar, carrying yourself with a quiet confidence that masked the careful way you took in the room. Assessing. Measuring. Cautious, but not uncertain. And gorgeous.

Everyone had been curious about you—the new student arriving in the middle of their education, something that almost never happened at Hogwarts. The murmurs had started before Hecat even entered the room, speculation thick in the air.

Sebastian had been curious, too. Not that he would have admitted it.

And then, you were paired off for a duel. With him.

Sebastian had smirked, rolling his shoulders as he stepped onto the platform, self-assured as ever. He had never lost a duel before.

And then—within seconds—everything changed.

Because you weren’t just skilled.

You were dangerous.

You met every spell he cast with effortless precision, deflecting with ease, dodging before he had even finished casting. And when you struck back, it was fast—calculated, efficient. He barely had time to block before you broke through his defenses.

And then, with one perfectly timed sidestep and a flick of your wand, his own was ripped from his grip.

It clattered to the floor. Silence filled the room. Sebastian had just stared. Stunned. Disarmed.

Beaten.

And after that? He had spent years trying to reclaim that loss.

It had become a ritual—Sebastian versus you, in class, at Crossed Wands, in secret training sessions that stretched long into the night.

And yet, after all that time, after dueling exams and real combat experience, he had never managed to best you.

Not once. Not even now, when he was the one becoming an Auror.

"You know," Sebastian muttered playfully, "I will get you back for that first duel."

You turned your head toward him, amusement flickering in your gaze. "Oh? Still holding onto that loss, are we?"

Sebastian smirked, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. "I’ve just been biding my time. Waiting for the perfect moment to take my revenge."

You let out a soft hum, lips twitching. "So what I’m hearing is that you’ve spent the last three years failing to beat me and now you need a dramatically timed rematch to soothe your ego?"

Sebastian scoffed, squinting up at you. "It’s not ego—it’s justice. Balance. The universe can’t just allow you to get away with this forever."

You grinned, shifting so you were mirroring his position, laying beside him. "And tell me, oh-Auror-to-be, when exactly do you plan to reclaim your honor?"

Sebastian opened his mouth, ready to quip back, but something about the way you were looking at him made the words catch in his throat.

The waning golden light clung to you, soft and warm, making the edges of you glow. Your expression still held traces of amusement, but beneath it, there was something quieter, something weightier—like you were trying to memorize the moment, like you knew it was slipping away too fast. Just like he knew it was slipping away too fast.

Sebastian felt it like a stone in his chest, heavy and sinking.

His smirk faltered.

"Tomorrow," he said. "We can have our rematch then."

And he needed you to agree. Because tomorrow, you wouldn’t be here. Tomorrow, you would walk out of these castle gates, out into the world, and after that—after that, he had no idea what would happen.

Sure, you’d promised each other a million times that nothing would change. That you’d write, that you’d visit, that you’d always make time.

But promises were easy. Promises were words spoken in stolen moments when the future still felt distant, when the weight of goodbye hadn’t yet settled into your bones.

And Sebastian knew—he knew—that the world had a way of pulling people apart, no matter how much they swore it wouldn’t.

That was what he was afraid of.

Because after tomorrow, there was no routine. No house tables in the Great Hall. No sitting beside you in class, no sneaking into the Undercroft, no excuse to find you. After tomorrow, the only thing tethering you to each other would be choice.

Would you choose him? Would you make time for him? Or would the days slip by, growing longer and longer between the times he saw you, until one day you were nothing more than a distant memory, a name on a letter, a familiar voice fading into something far away?

You turned your head toward him, your gaze steady, unreadable at first. And then—slowly, softly—you smiled.

"Alright," you murmured. "Tomorrow."

Sebastian’s chest tightened.

His throat felt thick, too tight, like if he tried to say anything, the words would catch and betray everything he wasn’t ready to admit. So instead, he forced himself to look away, dragging his gaze from the warmth of your expression and back to the sky above—the same sky that had once been brilliantly blue was now dimming into twilight.

Time was slipping.

The sun had set. The stars were taking its place. And tomorrow was one step closer.

Sebastian had spent years running toward the future—chasing after it, desperate to shape it into something he could control. Always planning, always scheming, always moving forward.

But now, he wanted to stop. He wanted to hold onto tonight, stretch it out indefinitely, keep you here beside him just a little longer.

Sebastian swallowed against the ache in his throat. "Alright," he said, voice quieter now. "Your last one. Your best memory."

You hesitated, just for a second, and then—

"This."

Sebastian turned his head sharply, meeting your gaze.

Your face was close, too close, your eyes warm but certain, no hesitation in them. You said it as if it were obvious, as if there were no other answer you could have possibly given even though this wasn’t nostalgia. This wasn’t a distant memory you could reminisce about years from now.

This was now.

Sebastian blinked.

"What... but— but that's not how this works."

"Why not?"

"Because—" He gestured vaguely between the two of you, grasping for words, for something solid to hold onto. "You’re supposed to pick something that already happened, not—" He broke off, exhaling sharply, because you were still looking at him like that.

Like you were waiting for him to understand. Like he was being dense.

"Sebastian," you murmured, and your voice was softer now, patient, like you were leading him toward something he should have seen all along. "I could have picked any number of things. Our duels. Quidditch matches. Sneaking through the castle after curfew. Or even that time you nearly got us eaten by a very territorial hippogriff—"

"That was not my fault—"

"But the thing is," you cut in, smiling, "those memories don’t stand out just because they were exciting, or dangerous, or something we weren’t supposed to be doing." Your smile softened. "They stand out because of you."

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard.

"It doesn’t matter if it was something thrilling, or reckless, or quiet—like right now," you continued. "It’s not about what we were doing. It’s about who I was with."

His throat went dry.

You held his gaze, unwavering. "Because as long as it’s with you, it doesn’t matter what we’re doing. It’s always going to be my favorite memory."

Sebastian felt something shift inside him, like the air had been knocked from his lungs. Because he knew, knew, you weren’t just talking about the past.

You were talking about tomorrow. And every day after. You were telling him—without a single doubt in your voice—that you weren’t going anywhere. That you had already chosen him.

The silence stretched, and he stared. Openly. Unapologetically. In a way he never had before—never let himself before.

Because suddenly, all of it—all the stress, all the gnawing uncertainty, all the weight of tomorrow that had been pressing down on his chest for weeks—just... lifted.

Like the world had let him breathe again. Like the twilight wasn’t a countdown anymore, wasn’t a time bomb ticking away the last moments of something he couldn’t bear to lose.

It was something else now.

It was the eve of something new. Something just beginning. With you.

And Merlin, wasn’t that all he had ever wanted?

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized—

He had been leaning in.

Slowly, unconsciously, like something inevitable had already set itself in motion.

Merlin, you were closer now, and Sebastian's fingers twitched against the grass. He should say something. Should tell you everything he’s always felt.

But words felt useless, pointless when your lips were so close to his, when he could feel your breaths mingling with his own, and before he could second-guess himself, before he could hesitate—

He closed the distance.

His lips met yours.

And everything else ceased to exist.

Because God, the way you felt—

Soft and warm, lips pliant beneath his, tasting faintly of honeyed cream, still sweet from the slice of cake you’d shared earlier in the Great Hall.

And fuck, he wanted more.

More of this, more of you—more of the way your lips parted ever so slightly beneath his, more of the way his heart was slamming against his ribs like it had been waiting for this moment all along.

But then—

What the hell was he doing?

His eyes snapped open. His breath caught in his throat. His fingers twitched against your cheek, and then, before he could think, before he could stop himself—

He jerked back.

His breath came fast, chest rising and falling as though he had just run across the entire castle. His hands were still hovering midair, like they had just now realized they no longer had anything to hold onto.

His mind was blank. Then racing. Then blank again.

"Shit."

His stomach dropped, panic clawing up his throat.

"I—Merlin, I’m sorry," he blurted out, voice higher, breathless. "I shouldn’t have—bloody hell, I didn’t mean to—"

You blinked at him, still dazed, lips parted, breath unsteady.

And Sebastian was spiraling.

Shit. Shit.

What had he just done?

He had kissed you.

You.

"That was—" He exhaled sharply, raking both hands down his face. "That was out of order—I wasn’t thinking, I—"

"Sebastian."

"I just—I don’t know what I was—" He let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "I mean, I do know, but I wasn’t thinking, and now—now it’s—"

"Sebastian."

You were sitting up now, eyes locked onto him, but he was still spiraling, still freaking out because—

"I—bloody hell, I’m sorry, I—"

You grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him back in.

Sebastian barely had time to register what was happening before your lips crashed into his, firm, unwavering, silencing every frantic thought in his head in an instant.

He made a startled noise in the back of his throat, but then—then he melted.

Because there was no hesitation now. No doubt.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

And fuck, did he want you too.

His hands shot to your waist, gripping the fabric of your dress, pulling you closer, desperate to make up for the lost seconds he had spent panicking.

The kiss was deeper this time, hungrier, something that tasted like relief. Like finally.

Your hands fisted in the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself against him, and Merlin, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever felt in his life. The need, the want in it—like you couldn’t bear the thought of letting go either.

And when you finally pulled back for air, just enough for your forehead to rest against his, your lips still brushing his, you smiled.

"I lied," you whispered, voice warm, steady. "I think this might be the best memory."

Sebastian let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, his grip on you tightening.

"You," he started, voice hoarse, eyes flickering down to your lips, "are going to be the death of me."

"I don’t mind being your final act," you murmured, teasing but with something real beneath it.

And that—fuck, that—

Sebastian didn’t stand a chance.

[ami666]

DINNER

sarah cameron x reader!

warnings: smut, scissoring, cheating.

You and your wealthy family were invited to the Cameron's for dinner. Sarah was the only reason why you were coming. Maybe she wasn't your best friend or anything like that but sometimes you two would casually talk with each other.

Not to mention, Sarah Cameron was the most beautiful girl you ever seen. She looked like summer, like sunshine. She was always so nice to everyone, acting childish, being full of life. You adored her.

You spent the whole two hours looking for the perfect dress and the perfect way to make your hair. Just because you wanted Sarah to compliment you. But still you were only thinking about her as a friend.

Now you were sitting in front of Sarah. You two were giving each other's glances all the time while your parents were talking about business or something like that.

Suddenly Ward Cameron turned his head towards Sarah and started to speak. "Sarah, how about you girls go upstairs and do your thing? I don't want the two of you to be bored."

"Yeah, Sure." She nodded and gave me the look to go upstairs.

You two end up together in her bedroom lying in the bed facing the ceiling. The sheets smell like her. The mix of strawberries and vanilla.

"How about we play truth? Sarah turned her head towards me. "Me and Wheezie are doing this all the time"

"Truth?" You asked confused. "Like truth or dare?"

"Well yeah, but there's no dare it's only the truth." She shrugged. "I'm too lazy for that".

"Sure, we can play the truth." You two are now facing each other smiling like idiots.

"Okay." She whispered biting her lip like always. "You first".

"Where do you see yourself in ten years?" You asked in the low voice wanted Sarah to be the only one to hear you.

"Well let's see." She took a deep breath. "Probably drinking, having kids, husband who will cheat on me, going to stupid yacht parties. Everything that sucks."

"Well that's going to be your future if you are going to choose the path that your parents picked out for you." You decided to speak because you knew what it's like to have parents who already planned your whole future. She ignored my comment probably being sick of talking about that.

"Okay, my turn" She smiled widely. "Did you have your first time?" She spoke in a whisper.

"Yeah, I did actually, not a long time ago."

"I knew it!" She exclaimed happy. "So who was this lucky guy?"

"Um, Ellie Sparks" You said hiding your eyes away from hers feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Wait.. are you..?" "I had no idea, not that I have a problem with that it's just.." Sarah started to gesture with her hands making you giggle.

"I mean I'm not sure yet." Your eyes wandering on her wallpapers, pictures above her desk. "I think I like guys and girls"

"Well that's nice" Sarah uttered biting her lip again.

"Yeah it was nice."

There was a comfortable silence between you two for a couple of minutes, but Sarah's voice decided to interrupt that moment.

"I always wondered what it's like to have sex with woman". - She claimed making you laugh at her.

"Well I can always teach you if you want"

"Really?" She sounded serious, that surprised you. You only said that as a joke, because the thought of you and Sarah having an intimate, romantic relationship was completely off limits because she was dating Topper.

"Well, if Topper isn't going to be jealous." Still you didn't think her comment was serious.

"Oh, come on we are friends it's not like I'm cheating."

"Oh, Sarah it's cheating" you thought to yourself.

Suddenly Sarah's lips were just a few inches from yours. "Come on, it's not going to ruin our friendship or anything". She claimed brushing her lips against your jaw.

You gave up and connected your lips together. It felt like the sun was meeting the moon for the first time. Or the sand with the ocean. She grabbed you by your waist, but you wanted to have the control over here so you pulled Sarah on her back in one movement while climbing on top of her.

She rubbed her hips impatiently against yours making you wet.

"What do you want me to do?" She was breathing rapidly.

"Just..." You grab her legs showing them apart pulling her skirt down. "Let me do the work."

She was only left in her lacy underwear. But eventually it landed on the floor near your own clothes. You two were naked, exposed to each other.

"Sarah are you sure?" You asked because you didn't want her to regret it.

"Yeah, just two friends, naked in bed, exploring new things, right?" Her gaze meets yours.

"Right". A bright smile covering your face. You spread her thighs placing your wetness against her. At first both of you didn't feel anything but the second you started to move moans filled the room.

Skin slapping together and the sound of wetness is making both of you even more close to orgasm.

Sarah tried to muffle her moans and screams against her pillow but you grabbed her chin forcing her to make eye contact.

You hips slapping her at a rapid pace, your breast jigging with every movement.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come" Sarah arched her back, face twist in pleasure.

"Let go Sarah, give it to me." You said almost in a whisper.

You felt the wetness pouring out of Sarah as she reached her orgasm. "Oh fuck, that felt like heaven."

You pushed against her a few more times and you finally came. "Yeah, it felt fucking amazing" You claimed as you kissed the area of her chest.

"Was I better than Ellie Sparks?"

"Almost as good as her."

"Oh shut up." Sarah smacked you.

[icecoldbeauty]

Your friends sound wonderful, happy to hear you've got people like that around for you! I wish I'd been able to be that close to others at my age. I'm thankful to have the friends I do now of course, they all mean a lot to me- but sometimes I just wonder if I might've been happier if I'd had even just one or two friends myself back then- if then I could look back on my childhood with more fondness than I do… I enjoyed my gym challenge and my league days and all, but I try to avoid thinking about anything before then really, because it wasn't good. I usually feel worse after looking back upon those memories than I had beforehand. Maybe it could've been different, but… well, I'd like to think that I still turned out okay enough in the end, and I'm happy with the way I am and people I surround myself with now.

I actually do think becoming famous did a fair bit of good for me as a person, but my goodness that couldn't ever stop me from despising some of the things that come with it- all the reporters and interviewers asking the most ridiculous questions on earth and writing even more ridiculous things about me, people invading my personal space and privacy, getting recognized everywhere, treated like I'm better than everyone else just for existing- I don't miss things like that at all. (Frankly I think I'm too afraid of what it could possibly say to check my own Wikipedia page, and I've now made so much more information public and easily accessible that could be put on there… I do NOT want some of the silly things I've posted to be on an article about me, no thanks, not going to find out if they're there!)

Wait, you're the only one that lives there? I thought my little island of 20 people was abysmal before this, but 'only resident' would top that on list of worst living situations for sure. In general I just think it's nice that someone else actually wants to hear me, haha! Not too many people are really jonesing to listen to a middle-age lady talk about her youth and whatnot. I almost wish I'd had someone willing to listen to me go on about some of these things sooner honestly!

Really, I've already spent so much time regretting that I'd kept it to myself so long- but that was also because I'd already convinced myself it was over, that I'd messed up permanently and would never get to go back or try again… In truth, I think a lot of it was just… me being scared, as silly as it feels to say. But maybe you're right and I should just… at least try. At least let her know while I've still got time to… Perhaps writing to her will be in order after this sends. Ah, crazy to think all I really needed all this time was a chance to talk about it and get a little push! I was really badly stuck in my own head about it all and overthinking it for the longest time, wasn't I? Alas, I always have had an unfortunate penchant for such a thing- and don't oft have someone around to talk me down from it anymore.

I almost wonder if it'd be more efficient for other regions like Kanto to use a similar system… Especially things like a seasonal Gym circuit and this whole endorsement idea, it actually does seem rather smart. Goodness, I'd have loved not having a year-round system when I worked in the League… Loved my job, but doing it almost every day all year is exactly as exhausting as it likely sounds! Also what is with so many world-ending plots happening during League battles?! The fact I've heard more than one instance of this now is insane and honestly almost comical. Are all the criminals plotting specifically to ruin some 12 year olds championship battles for some reason? How else does this happen more than once like that? Also, why are there so many criminals trying to destroy the world to begin with, I swear I've heard of this in every region by now- I'm starting to think that someone trying to commit atrocities and getting stopped by actual children IS a normal Saturday with how many times I've heard it! Insane it is, I'm glad the Indigo league didn't have too many incidents that level of crazy after Giovanni.

Oh yeah wait you're too old to know what inkay games is my bad

Oh, please, I’m only twenty-three.

[ he’s not old. don’t make that mistake again. ]

—💎

[sableeira]

why is sending asks so anxiety inducing. this is the socially awkward cringefail website.

[twiishaa]

when life is down i turn to ao haru ride

[lunarharp]

figured i'd do this again..bit early i guess..

[pink-lemonadefairy]

[kyouka-supremacy]

(´･ᴗ･ ` )

[adore-gregor]

.