#arry gets asks

[autumnoakes]

what do you think of Berdly deltarune?

i don't think much about him honestly lmao

it's been a while since i've played chapter 2, and i haven't gotten to the end of chapter 4 (struggling with the boss again 😭). he reminds me a lot of revali legendofzelda.

[sappymix1]

we should start writing x reader fics for attention. this is an intrusive thought i have everytime i scroll a main tag and see the worst written x reader ever that doesn’t look appealing in the slightest And then it will have a silent 400 likes

LMAOO we should take a normal fic and rewrite it so it's x reader and see which one does better

[bluebellplayinggames]

i finally read the files for jake's campaign and oh my god..... sherry......

[ds-angel1]

can you do a hitman! rafe x reader fic where reader hires hitman! rafe to kill her cheating husband— and she finds out that rafe doesn’t seem too bad himself ;)

a/n: um so... I didn´t read the request well enough and didn´t see the cheating... so so sorry!! I´m gonna keep it the way I have it, cause it´s not that integral to the plot. I hope this isn´t too far off from what you wanted and sorry that it´s taken me so long, such a cool request!!!!

cw: murder/hiring a hitman, brief mention of abuse, mention of shooting and drowning, unprotected sex

wc: ~ 1.5k

The parking lot was a wasteland of cracked asphalt and flickering streetlights, each drip of water from a leaky gutter slicing through the silence like a metronome of dread.

Your footsteps echoed, uncertain and slow, each one louder than you'd like. Fingers twitched at your sides, restless and cold, while your mind spiraled, thoughts crashing into each other with no room to breathe, let alone think clearly.

Time stretched. Minutes passed like hours, every second a drumbeat in your chest. Then finally, movement. A figure emerged from the shadows.

A man. Jeans, hoodie, buzzcut, and a scowl etched so deep it looked permanent. His eyes swept the lot in quick, practiced scans before settling on you. He stopped just out of reach.

“Um… are you… the guy?” you asked, the words fumbling out, awkward and thin. You didn’t know his name, only what he was supposed to do.

“Yeah. You Mrs. Walton?”

The name stung, triggering something deep in your skull. You clenched your jaw. Not for much longer, you reminded yourself. Soon, it would be gone, scrubbed from your life like blood from tile.

“Yes,” you murmured.

He studied you, eyes dark and unreadable. “You got anything on you I should know about?”

You shook your head. “What… like a recorder? No.”

“Good.” His tone was flat, but the warning behind it landed hard. “If this gets out, there’s people who’ll handle it. Even if I’m inside.”

You nodded, stiff.

“You’re gonna buy a new phone. Cheap, burner. Text me when and where. Got it?” He held out a slip of paper, a scrawl of numbers barely legible in the dim light. “Half the money now, half when it’s done. I’ll text you the location for the other half the day before.”

Your fingers closed around the paper, knuckles pertruding with tension. Your brain burned the details into your memory, this wasn’t a mistake you could afford.

This was murder. You were paying to have your husband killed.

It sounded monstrous when you thought of it like that. But you’d run the math a hundred times. A divorce meant ruin, he’d bury you in court, leave you penniless, maybe even dead. You knew the connections he had. You’d seen the bruises. Felt them. This wasn’t just escape. It was survival.

You looked him in the eyes, steadied your breath, and nodded. “Okay.”

With one last glance over his shoulder, he turned and disappeared into the night, swallowed by the same darkness he came from.

And you stood there, hand tight around the number, knowing there was no turning back now.

Just a few days later, the call came.

“Mrs. Walton? I’m terribly sorry to inform you—your husband was shot while driving to work this morning. The impact caused him to lose control of the vehicle… he drove off a bridge. Rescue teams are still recovering the car from the river, but… we’re confident he didn’t survive. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

It took them nearly two days to drag his overpriced luxury car out of the water, along with what was left of him. His bloated hands, that smug face already softening with rot. The bullet, once perfectly placed over his heart, had nearly dissolved in the water, just like the man himself, dissolving into memory, into myth, into nothing.

Then came the wave: condolences, hushed voices, solemn faces, the funeral. You cried on cue. Hugged on cue. Played the grieving widow like you’d been born for it. You should’ve won something for that performance, an Oscar, at least.

Six days after the hit, the text finally arrived.

A location. Coordinates in the kind of place GPS signals go to die—the edge of the worst part of town, where the streetlights didn’t bother working and the air smelled like rust and regret.

You showed up on time. Summer, yet the sun dipped early, casting the trailer in long shadows. It looked like it had been pieced together from scraps and curses. Through the grimy window, you spotted him, same buzzcut, same scowl, hand lazily resting on his chin as he watched you approach.

By the time you reached the door, he was already there, holding it open with that same unreadable expression. Wordless. You stepped inside.

“You got my money?” His voice was gravel in the cold, stale air.

“Yeah.” You reached into your purse, pulling out a plastic bag stuffed with bills—his money, technically. Now yours.

He took it without ceremony, fingers rummaging through it, counting. “You stay while I go through this,” he muttered.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The silence was sharp. Tension hung like a fog as he flipped through stacks, licking his finger, counting aloud under his breath.

“Did… did you plan that?” you finally asked, breaking the quiet. “The river, I mean. To like... get rid of evidence?”

A low hum escaped him. A yes, maybe. Or just acknowledgment.

You let another beat pass before speaking again, quieter now. “Is this... your place?”

“Friend’s,” he answered, clipped and uninterested.

You frowned, letting out a small huff and turning your gaze to the peeling walls. His eyes flicked up at the sound.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” you said, folding your arms. “Just think you could be a little less rude. You know, considering.”

He raised an eyebrow, genuinely incredulous. “Yeah? I kill people for a living. You expect rainbows and compliments?”

You met his stare. “Wouldn’t kill you to be a little more polite to your clientele.”

Your words were met by a roll of his eyes before he stood slowly, nearing you threateningly.

“Oh yeah? Ya want me to be nice to you, darlin´?”

You don’t know how it happened, the moments between those few words and now, were a blur.

You were sat on the cluttered counter of the trailer sink, arching your back off of the wallpaper-ridden walls as the man holding your thighs to your chest was pumping in and out of you unapologetically rough and hard.

His eyes, illuminated only by a tiny lamp in the corner, were strictly focused on the sight of his length being engulfed by your soppy cunt.

You let out whine after whimper and moan after exclaim, muttering about his size and how damn good it felt over the lude squelching sounds and the rattling of the trailer. The tip of his mind-screwing cock hit a spot inside you your dead husband could never reach, making you come like you never have as he emptied his seed inside your warm, inviting womb.

Silence settled in, thick and charged, as the two of you caught your breath. His thumbs traced slow, almost tender circles on your bare hips, an unspoken lullaby after the storm. Then, with a quiet groan, he pulled out. A soft, slick sound followed, and a warm rush of your mingled release slipped from you, trailing down your inner thigh.

“Fuck,” he muttered, low and almost reverent as if the word alone could ground him.

He crouched down, redressing you with surprising care, slipping your panties back up, smoothing your skirt into place. His hands lingered at your waist as he guided you upright, placing you gently on trembling legs.

“You don’t tell anyone about this,” he murmured, voice barely more than a breath. His gaze lingered on your face, drinking in the wreckage of your expression, flushed cheeks, mascara streaked in messy rivers, eyes wide with something between shock and surrender. The dim light tried to swallow it all, but it couldn’t. He saw everything.

He reached up, his fingers rough but delicate as they wiped away the smudges beneath your eyes.

“Okay…” you whispered, the word ghosting past your lips. Your mind hadn’t caught up yet, still lost somewhere between shame and euphoria, disbelief and craving.

He nodded once, sharp and unreadable, before turning to the bag. Without finsishing counting, he began gathering the stacks of money, trusting it was all there. Somehow, that trust felt heavier than anything he’d said aloud.

You watched him in silence, your heart thudding like it was trying to break out of your chest.

“Can I… will I see you again?” you asked, your voice barely steady enough to make it out of your dry throat.

He didn’t look up. Not until his bag was zipped shut with all the money you paid him for killing your husband buried deep inside. Just like his cum was buried deep inside you.

“Keep the phone,” he said, tone flat, but something in it twisted, subtle and raw.

Your pulse quickened, your breath catching in your throat.

He walked to the door, hand gripping the bag so tightly that his tanned knuckles turned pale. You stepped forward, words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Wait… what´s... what’s your name?”

He paused in the doorway, half in shadow. Then, turning his head slightly, just enough for his voice to reach you.

“Rafe. My name is Rafe.”

[cinnaleaf]

「 Wrapped In Jude | A Very Merry Footballer Ficmas 」

summary: you’re stranded in a snowstorm with your childhood best friend and the only hotel room left is the honeymoon suite

wc: ~3.2k 🎅🏾: a gift for all of you who’ve been mostly nice this year | pt 2 of my ficmas series

When the car swerved again your heart almost jumped out of your chest. The tires skidded across the icy roads, making you grip the wheel tight. You were silently begging the sky gods to give you a non-icy, smooth stretch of road, but your prayers went unanswered.

“Aye relax” Jude yelled from the passenger seat, which was bold considering he wasn’t the one fighting for both of your lives against an assault of frozen water crystals. He pointed ahead. “That doesn’t look good.”

“No shit. Nothing looks good right now Jude” you retorted, trying to keep the wheel steady as snow pummeled against the windshield. The snow was coming down so hard that it felt like someone placed your car inside of a snow globe and shook it for a laugh.

“Why did you convince me this was a good idea?” you asked.

“I didn’t convince you–”

“Lies. ‘The roads will be fine Y/N. It’s just a little snow’ ” you mocked, not even giving him a glance. “You’re not even driving but you have soooo much to say.”

“Well.. you don’t want me to drive. If I drive, we’re DOA” he joked, looking out the window at a large snowbank.

“DOA??”

“Dead on arri–” Jude started, but the car skidded again, making you curse under your breath. Your foot eased off the gas, but your pulse was thundering in your ears. Every turn of the wheel felt like you were one bad move away from starring in a very unfestive breaking news report.

“Over there!” Jude pointed at the dim glow of a building in the distance. “I think that’s a hotel. Let’s just stop there, yeah?”

You squinted through the storm, leaning toward the dashboard like a grandma as you just barely made out the outline of the car park that was nearly full. The tires groaned as you slowly turned the car, sliding into a parking spot with relief etched on your face.

“See? We’re alive” Jude announced, grinning from ear to ear.

“Barely” you muttered, throwing the car in park. The storm outside was still raging, and you weren’t about to get stuck sleeping in the car if you didn’t have to. “Let’s see if they have a room available.”

The wind harshly smacked you in the face as soon as you stepped out of the car. You hunched your shoulders, pulling your coat tighter as Jude trailed behind you, not in a rush to get inside.

“Hurry up Jude” you called over your shoulder. “I’m not staying out here while you frolic around. You wanna be Olaf so bad.”

“On my way” Jude said, snickering as he scooped a handful of snow. “Y/N look!”

You didn’t think much of it until you heard a very specific laugh. One that meant he was up to no good. You had no chance to turn around before you felt a freezing snowball hit the back of your head, sending a wet slush of ice down your neck.

“Are you serious right now?” you said, spinning around to see him grinning like a fool.

“You looked tense after all the driving,” Jude said, shrugging. “Thought I’d help you loosen up.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing through the doors. Inside, the lobby was pure chaos. People in coats and boots crowded around arguing about room availability, while others were slumped in chairs, drinking hot chocolate. 

At the front desk, the receptionist looked like she was one request away from quitting on the spot. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, her eyes were darting from one demanding guest to the next. Honestly, the girl looked like she needed a shot or two.

Jude leaned in, brushing some snow out of your hair, whispering. “I think she hates her life more than you hate me right now.”

“Debatable” you muttered, stepping up to the desk when she finally looked your way.

“Hi. Please tell me you have a room left? We need two beds.”

Her tired eyes scanned you and Jude. She sighed, “We have one.” She tapped at the computer, tone flat. “But..”

“But what?” you repeated, already bracing for the worst.

“It’s a honeymoon suite. Just one bed.” she added, not softening the blow. 

Jude burst out laughing as he leaned against the counter. “What do you say, Mrs. Bellingham?”

“Shut up Jude,” you hissed, giving him a nasty side eye. You turned back to the receptionist. “Are you sure there’s nothing else? Not even a pull out bed?”

The receptionist shook her head, very over the conversation. “Nope. Take it or leave it.”

Jude smiled at you, wagging his brows. “The car or the love cavern? Take your pick.”

You groaned, snatching the key fob from the counter. “We’ll take it.” Jude trailed behind you as you walked to the lift, still laughing at the fact that he was about to sleep in a honeymoon suite with his childhood best friend.

Jude’s chuckles echoed through the mostly empty hallway as you waited for the lift. You glared at him, but it made him laugh even harder.

“I’m gonna lock you out and enjoy the honeymoon suite by myself if you don’t shut the fuck up,” you warned.

“Ah, lighten up” he said, straightening up but still smiling cheekily. “This is hilarious. Admit it.”

“No. It’s not” you snapped, stepping into the lift. “There’s nothing funny about being stuck in a blizzard. And out of all people...it had to be with you.”

Jude leaned against the wall, shrugging. “Could’ve been stuck with someone boring like Trent.”

“Sleeping in the car would be a better option than either of you.” you muttered, folding your arms. 

“Okay,” he winked with both eyes, lightly pushing your arm. “I’ll be a good boy. Promise. Wouldn’t want Santa to give me any coal for Christmas.”

The lift doors shut but Jude’s smirk and annoying laugh hadn’t budged since leaving the lobby – it was starting to work your last nerve.

“You should’ve been on the naughty list years ago” you muttered, leaning back on the wall.

“Maybe I’ll rebrand next year” Jude said, stuffing his hands into his coat pocket while rocking back on his feet. “New year, new me.”

You puffed a laugh. “You? Rebranding?? You’ve been loud, obnoxious, and way too comfortable since we were kids.”

“You still tolerate me enough to do a road trip back home though. Says a lot,” he grinned as the lift began to rise.

“Says I make bad decisions.”

He shook his head, then looked up at you with a sly smile. “You know I’m the light of your life.”

“More like a pain in the ass” you shot back, staring at the floor numbers ticking by. Anything to avoid looking at him and his cute, yet maddening face. “I can’t wait to get in this room and pretend you don’t exist.”

“Pretend I don’t exist?” he repeated, taking offense. “You can’t even go five minutes without talking to me.”

“I can if you would shut up.”

The lift dinged and the doors slid open to reveal Christmas lights glowing along the ceiling. There were wreaths made of pine and red berries hung on every door. You could smell cinnamon and the smell of open fire from a nearby fireplace.

For a second, it felt like you were in a magical holiday movie, but Jude had to ruin it of course.

“Ah, perfect for our honeymoon evening” he said, stepping out of the lift.

“Honeymoon evening my ass” you sassed, following him down the hall. “You’re not sleeping in bed with me.”

Jude spun around, walking backward just to flash you a cocky grin. “That’s no way to talk about consummating our marriage, wifey.”

“Keep chatting shit and I’ll make you sleep on the floor.”

“You won’t.”

“Fuck around and you’ll find out.”

When you reached the door, Jude took the key fob from you and pushed the door open like he was revealing a car on a game show. “Go on, Mrs. Bellingham. Your special night awaits..” he announced.

You rolled your eyes and stepped inside, immediately stopping in your tracks. The room was tacky as hell. There were rose petals everywhere, a mirror above the king sized bed, and a red, heart shaped LED light that casted a red glow on the entire room.

Jude stood behind you, letting out a low whistle. “Went all out, didn’t they?”

“Is this a joke?” you asked no one. “A mirror above the bed is crazy.”

Jude brushed past you, flopping his long body on the bed like it was the best room he ever saw. “Nah, this is nice. They have swan towels and chocolate!”

“I hate this”  you mumbled, dropping your bag onto the floor and flopping into the chair. “I’m not sleeping here."

“Yeah?” Jude taunted, propping his elbows behind him. “Where you gonna go? The floor? The car??”

“Anywhere but here.”

He smirked, kicking his shoes off. “Suit yourself. But this bed is amazing. You’re missing out.”

Later that night, the room was quiet with the exception of the roar from the heater. You were curled up on the far, far edge of the massive bed, staring at the wall. You took Jude up on his offer, but you built a pillow wall between you and him. Despite building the pillow wall for boundaries – it was still awkward.

“Hey” Jude’s voice broke through the silence, quietly. “You asleep?”

You closed your eyes, pretending like you didn’t hear him.

“Y/N” he called again, louder this time. “I know you’re up. You breathe loud when you’re lying.”

You groaned, rolling over to your back. “Ugh. What do you want Jude?”

“I’m cold,” he said casually.

“What?”

“I’m freezing actually. Feels like my toes are gonna fall off.” 

You sat up, glaring at him over the pillow wall. “You’re under blankets.. how are you cold?”

Jude shrugged, pulling the blanket up around his body. “Dunno. Maybe I’ve got bad circulation or something?”

“Sounds like a you problem” you scoffed, laying back down and pulling the covers over your own head. “Deal with it.”

There was a pause, then Jude spoke again. “Or..you could let me borrow some of your body heat.”

Your head shot out the covers. “Nope. Absolutely not. No.”

“I’ll stay on my side,” Jude said, poking his head over the pillow barrier like he was trying to negotiate his bedtime. “I promise. Just scooch over a bit?”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

“Jude.”

He dramatically sighed and flopped back to his side of the bed. “You have no heart. I’m suffering and you don’t care. I thought you loved me.”

“You’re not suffering” you reasoned, pulling some of the blanket away from him and onto you. “You’re annoying.”

“Fine.” he muttered, tugging the blanket back toward him. “If I die from hypothermia just know you’ll have to explain that to my family. Good luck telling my mum you’re a cold blooded killer by proxy.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore him, but the room kept getting colder. The heating system in the room sounded like it was about to give up entirely based on how loud it was roaring. The air in the room was biting back at you, even under the blankets.

He was right, and you hated it.

With a heavy sigh, you got rid of the pillow wall and turned to face him. Jude perked up again, his eyes lighting up like Christmas tree.

“Don’t say anything” you warned, scooting closer until you were a safe but practical distance away. “This is for warmth only.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he grinned.

“And stay on your side” you added, jabbing your finger at him.

“Got it. Boundaries” he said, holding his hands above the covers.

When you laid back down, you were trying hard not to focus on how warm he felt from a few scoots away. The bed creaked slightly as he shifted closer – not too close, but enough to make you hyper aware of how close he could be if he shifted any further.

“Better?” you asked, your voice clipped.

“Yeah, this is great,” he replied in a soft tone. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes, trying to fall asleep – but then Jude started talking again. He said you couldn’t go five minutes without talking to him, but clearly that was on his part and not yours.

“Y’know” he whispered quietly. “For someone who says they make bad decisions, you’re not doing too bad tonight.”

“What–”

The room went dark faster than you could finish the word and you heard the heater groan before turning off. The only noise you could hear now was the wind and snow knocking against the window. You froze, pulling more of the blanket toward you.

“Hey” Jude’s voice cut through the loud silence. “Did the power just–?”

“Yes. The power went out” you replied, annoyed. “What gave it away? The pitch black?”

“Attitude isn’t cute on you” he muttered, shifting in the bed. You felt the mattress dip and then his voice came in closer. “You okay?”

“I’m fine” you mumbled, but your heart started racing. Not from the power outage, but from him being so close.

“This is cozy,” Jude spoke after a pause. You could hear the grin on his face, you didn’t need to see it. “It’ll be fun telling our kids we survived the apocalypse, Mrs. Bellingham.”

“You wish I was your wife,” you joked. “But it’s not the apocalypse.. just a power outage.”

“Feels like it” he answered dramatically, slightly yanking some of the blanket back over to himself. “It’s like the North Pole in here now.”

“Well..the heater is off so yeah...it’s cold. Duh.”

“Right,” he said, inching closer. You felt his knee bump your leg under the blanket. “Body heat is crucial to –”

“Jude, be quiet.”

“I’m just saying” he countered, by the tone of his voice you could tell the grin was back. “We’re gonna freeze to death. And for what? We can combine our body heat.”

You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head but it was no use. The cold air was already creeping in and the space between you and Jude was closing by the second.

“Okay. Fine.” you finally mumbled. “Behave. I don’t want to play footsie with you. Keep your cold ass toes to yourself.”

“I will,” he said quickly, already shifting closer. “Scout’s honour.”

“You weren’t a scout.”

“Could’ve been if I didn’t go for football.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue as you turned on your side to face him. Jude was way too close now – his face was only a few centimeters away from yours. Your fingers lightly grazed his arm as you tugged over the blanket to share equally now.

“This good?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Perfect.” he murmured softly.

The silence stretched for a while but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You could hear him breathing slow and steady; you also felt the warmth radiating off his body. You didn’t realize how cold you were before. Your closeness to Jude felt strange, yet comforting. Almost like you didn’t realize it was something you wanted forever, until now.

“You’re staring at me,” Jude said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“I’m not staring” you shot back defensively.

“I can feel your eyes. You’re staring” he teased, another grin creeping into his voice.

“Jude.”

“Y/N.”

The way he said your name this time sent a jolt through you, and you suddenly couldn’t think of a single comeback.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked in a low voice.

“Like what?” you whispered.

“Like you’re waiting for something…” he said, leaning in slightly.

Your breath hitched when the space between you shrunk to nothing. His face was so close that you could feel his breath warm and steady against your skin.

“Jude…” you started, not knowing how to finish the rest.

“Yeah?”

You didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything else left to be said. You felt the staticky, warm rush of anticipation that can only be felt right before you’re about to kiss someone for the first time. 

His lips brushed up against yours softly, finally making a connection that was years in the making. The first second stretched out and you couldn’t pull away. You found yourself kissing him back, moving your hand instinctively to his shoulder. Jude’s hand slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened slowly, with much intentionality. His hands moved up your back and he brushed his fingertips up and down your spine, making you shiver – but not from the cold.

But then the power turned back on.

Both of you froze, lips still barely touching, blinking against the sudden harsh red LED lighting – both of you caught like a deer in headlights. 

“Shit” Jude whispered, pulling back so fast the blanket nearly slipped off both of you.

You scrambled to your side of the bed with your heart pounding, lips still buzzing from the feeling of his. You pulled the blanket over yourself like it could hide the fact that you just made out with your childhood best friend.

The room went back to silence with the exception of the heater that thrummed back to life, filling the room back up with much needed warmth.

“So” Jude started, his voice awkward and loud. “Power’s back on.”

“Yep” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Back on. Power. Electricity. Thomas Edison...or whoever.”

“Yeah…guess we don’t need body heat anymore” Jude said light and careful, not sure if it was safe to joke yet.

You peeked at him from the corner of your eye. He was on his side of the bed with his hands tucked behind his head like he was trying to play it cool, but his lips twitched up and gave him away.

“Yeah..” you mumbled, still clutching the blanket. “No need.”

The heater roared louder as you sank further to your edge of the bed. You stared at the ceiling trying to pretend like your thoughts weren’t a mess.

Jude cleared his throat, breaking the silence again. This boy really couldn’t go long without talking to you. “For what it’s worth... that wasn’t the worst decision you’ve ever made.”

You turned your head to meet his gaze for the first time since the power came back on. He didn’t have a cocky grin this time. It seemed shy, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“I’ll keep that in mind” you smiled, feeling just as shy.

“You warm enough now?” Jude asked, changing the subject so you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile grew. “Yeah, I’m fine. Very cozy now.”

“Good” he murmured, his eyes lingering on you longer than necessary. “Wouldn’t want you catching a cold on our honeymoon. Santa might not forgive me for that.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Right. Can’t mess up so close to the holidays.”

“You get me” he said, grinning in full force now. “Nice list all day, every day.”

“Mm..debatable.” you teased, moving closer to his side of the bed. 

“Hater” Jude interlocked his hand with yours as you both laid in bed.

You closed your eyes, comfortable warmth filling your heart from the temperature in the room, the holiday season, and from Jude’s kiss.

“Goodnight Jude.”

“Goodnight Mrs. Bellingham.” he teased, kissing your cheek.

You opened one eye to glare at him, but internally you were feeling butterflies. “Don’t push your luck.”

Jude chucked, brushing his thumb against your hand. “I don’t know. I’m feeling pretty lucky tonight.”

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hi, do you think that Harry's personality was altered to fit with Ginny's in HBP? I can put my money on the fact that the Harry Potter from OotP would not put up with any of Ginny's bullshit. He wouldn't even talk to her if he could help it let alone date her.

If jkr wasn't on her trojan horse to make hinny endgame, Harry probably would not date anybody in sixth year. Not with Sirius's death, voldemort's horcruxes, his disastrous relationship (really, it's a stretch) with Cho the previous year and his new found obsession with Malfoy. His brain could only hold so much.

Hi, like, Harry's personality definitely changed in HBP, but I don't think Ginny was the only reason (Ginny's personality also changed from OotP, for the worse if you ask me). Harry's personality change between OotP and HBP isn't all that bad. Last time I read the book, a lot of it can be explained by his trauma response (his sass and even less self-preservation than before).

What is a little odd about HBP Harry is that he is way calmer than OotP Harry and tries harder not to annoy Ginny, even early in the book, before he supposedly realises his crush. Which is in stark contrast to Harry with anybody else and in any other book. Harry isn't scared of calling out people for bad behaviour, even people he likes (Lupin, Ron, Hermione, etc.), and who is outright rude to Ginny late in OotP. Basically, the transitions in Harry's opinions and behaviour towards Ginny didn't change naturally and go against how he usually reacts to people. Because you're right that OotP Harry would not try to appease Ginny when she gets all worked up over Fluer, he wouldn't care what she thought, and we don't see the summer between OotP and HBP when he supposedly changed his whole treatment of Ginny — which is a problem.

As for whether he'd date at all after Sirius' death... it can go both ways. I actually think it's very possible Harry throws himself into a relationship with Ginny — who he sees as a normal and safe dating option, she represents normal teenage life, and not being the Boy Who Lived — because of his trauma and Sirius' death and everything going on with Voldemort.

I mean, we are told pretty explicitly he sees his time with Ginny as a break of normalcy from his eventful life. It's a distraction and a coping mechanism:

“It’s been like . . . like something out of someone else’s life, these last few weeks with you,” said Harry. “But I can’t . . . we can’t . . . I’ve got things to do alone now.”

(HBP, Ch30)

So, I don't think that's inherently out of character, actually. What is, is Harry thinking he loves Ginny as much as he does, without knowing her and being chill with a lot of her behaviour he would have called her out for before:

“She’s a damn sight nicer than Phlegm,’’ said Ginny “And she’s more intelligent, she’s an Auror!” said Hermione from the corner. “Fleur’s not stupid, she was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament,” said Harry. “Not you as well!” said Hermione bitterly. “I suppose you like the way Phlegm says ‘ ’Arry,’ do you?” asked Ginny scornfully. “No,” said Harry, wishing he hadn’t spoken, “I was just saying, Phlegm — I mean, Fleur —” [...] “I wouldn’t go in the kitchen just now,” she warned him. “There’s a lot of Phlegm around.” “I’ll be careful not to slip in it.” Harry smiled

(HBP, Ch5)

First, Hermione and Ginny should lay off Fleur. Second, how come Harry finds Ginny's comments about Fleur funny after he just spoke in Fleur's defence? Why is he regretting having talked? He doesn't regret it when he speaks up to defend people he cares about or to say what people need to hear when it's the truth, even in HBP and DH. Ginny is the only exception, and we don't see what made her that exception in the books. Especially when Harry repeatedly shows he cares for Ron and Hermione more than her.

“And Ginny, don’t call Ron a prat, you’re not the Captain of this team —” “Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone should —” Harry forced himself not to laugh.

(HBP, Ch14)

You're telling me Harry would find this behaviour funny, JKR? He would if he didn't like Ron, sure, but Ron is one of his most important people, more important to him than Ginny (as proven time and time again in DH), and he knows Ron's insecure enough as is. Harry would not stand for the Ron slander, even if it's from his sister.

Harry looked over at Ron, who was hunched in a corner, staring at his knees, a bottle of butterbeer clutched in his hand. “Angelina still won’t let him resign,” Ginny said, as though reading Harry’s mind. “She says she knows he’s got it in him.” Harry liked Angelina for the faith she was showing in Ron, but at the same time thought it would really be kinder to let him leave the team.

(OotP, Ch26) - Harry likes when people show faith in Ron's abilities! Wild that he's a good friend!

For context, Harry to Ginny in OotP when he's stressed over Sirius and annoyed with her:

“Hi,” said Ginny uncertainly. “We recognized Harry’s voice — what are you yelling about?” “Never you mind,” said Harry roughly. Ginny raised her eyebrows. “There’s no need to take that tone with me,” she said coolly. “I was only wondering whether I could help.” “Well, you can’t,” said Harry shortly.

(OotP, Ch32)

But I wouldn't say Harry won't talk to her if he could help it. He likes Ginny in OotP but not more than Fred and George. He finds some of her comments amusing and thinks she's alright. He doesn't hate her, far from it — but he doesn't see her as a romantic interest, he sees her as Ron's little sister. He's actively surprised she has any interest or talent in Quidditch and finds it unlikely. OotP Harry doesn't think very highly of Ginny, nor is he super interested in her as a person:

“You and Fred and George,” she said impatiently. “We’ve got an- other Seeker!” “Who?” said Harry quickly. “Ginny Weasley,” said Katie. Harry gaped at her. “Yeah, I know,” said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm. “But she’s pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course,” she said, throwing him a very dirty look

(OotP, Ch21)

“Well, that was a bit stupid of you,” said Ginny angrily, “seeing as you don’t know anyone but me who’s been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels.” Harry remained quite still as the impact of these words hit him. Then he turned on the spot to face her. “I forgot,” he said. “Lucky you,” said Ginny coolly. “I’m sorry,” Harry said, and he meant it. “So . . . so do you think I’m being possessed, then?”

(OotP, Ch23)

And even the "best" hinny scene in OotP in the library (in quotations because that scene is really weird), Harry isn't really telling Ginny what's bothering him. He tells her he wants to talk to Sirius, but not why (Which is his doubts about James and what he saw in Snape's worst memory. He doesn't tell Ron and Hermione about it either, but it is an example of him not being more open with her than with Ron and Hermione. He isn't).

It's not all out of character in HBP, and Harry could get to a point where he treats Ginny and her comments the way he does, there's just nothing that happens in the books that justifies it — hence why it's so jarring. We didn't see Harry's emotions evolve to this point; they just sorta appear, and are really weird when they are there (god, I hate the chest monster).

[littlevenicebiatch]

Doctor

You were a doctor, a military doctor to be precise, you partly lived on a secret base in the middle of nowhere. Work was good, the soldiers were flirty but respectful. There was only one you had never seen up close before, Simon. He never went to the medical room, or so you thought. It was late one night, when you had fallen asleep in the medical room. But there was a loud noise which had woken you up. And there he stood, a clearly hurt Simon, stealing medical supplies.

You stood up and approached him slowly. "Simon?" You asked, your voice still raspy. He turned around and pinned you against the wall, only then he realized who you were. "Oh, sorry." He mumbled before letting you go, only a little to slowly. "Its all right." You replied. "What are you doing here?" "Nothing." He said, holdding bandages and pain killers. You raised an eyebrow. "You know, if you are hurt, you can come to me, I dont bite." "I dont need any help." He said sternly. "Sure, but sometimes its still good to get some. Sit down." You were direct, so he obeyed and sat down on the medical bed. "You dont need to-" "But I will." So you opened his shirt, underneath there was a big wound. You took some desinfectant and started cleaning the woun. He hissed, but allowed you to help him. "I know it hurts, I'm sorry." "'s fine." He said, a bit too quickly. "Sure." You were done cleaning himm up and putting bandages over the wound. "Wanna get a cigarette?" You asked, and surpisingly he agreed. So you sat there, outside base on a bench, you handed him a cigarette and lit it for him. He nodded in appreciation.

"Why dont you ever come to me for help?" Your voicce was sweet and quiet, in comparison his was rough and deep. "Because I dont like the feeling of being vulnerable." He was more honest than you had excpevted. "Oh." "Yeah." "Well, you can always come to my room, I wouldnt tell anyone the big guy needs my help." Simon smiled at that. "Thank you." He exhaled the smokke away from your face.

"I just, I cant stand being around you." "oh." "Because I- I am desperate for you, ever since I first saw you I have been dreaming of my mouth on those perfect tits, my dick burried inside of you, you moaning underneath me." "oh." "Yeah" "Simon-I god, I am fatteret really but.." "But?" "But i-ugh fuck it." You leaned in and kissed him deeply, he responded by putting his hands on your waist, pulling you into his lap. You moaned into his mouth and it sounded like heaven to him. "God, 'been dreaming bout this." Simon mumbled as he picked you up and effortlessly arried you to his quarters. Simon put you on his bed, he locked the door and turned around. "Just so we understand eachother, if we do this, you are mine. I will devour you, I will treat ya right and I will love ya. Understood?" "Understood." You replied, and that was that. He wasnt as rough as you might think, he was careful, he started off with kissing you everywhere, sucking, licking even. Then he started using his fingers, then his big cock. It was pierced, that was a surprise. A good one.

And when you were done and laying in his arms, he held you tightly. "Thank you." He whispered. You giggled. "Did you just thank me for sex?" "Yeah." He seemed emberassed now. "This was just.. this was amazing." "It was." You agreed, before falling asleep.

[goregfx]

MY GO-TO'S FOR EDITING.

I’ve decided to put together a masterlist of the resources I use, since I get asked about them pretty often. If you're somebody who can’t commission resource makers or you’re just wanting to get into editing or creating commissions yourself, I hope this helps.

pinterest. IMPORTANT NOTICE IF YOU UTILIZE THIS: avoid usings people's art; if you can get permission from an artist to use a piece, that's another discussion. Be warned there may also be ai mixed in, which I've personally got a good eye for spotting; i prefer to go by images i've seen long before the ai craze, since i've been on there for a while. your best bet is looking through miscellenous character boards. From there, you can choose images to blend or even make pngs out of, to give unique flare to your edits.

remove.bg + photokit. if you're looking to save time or don't have a way to cutout images manually ( i sometimes like to use my art tablet if I want to be really precise ), these are good ways to make pngs out of images you find, as opposed to png sites. i prefer this because ive caught adware on png sites before, plus there's also a lot of ai on those as well.

for screencaps, i use google images or youtube, since the quality is higher than anything on pinterest...though, psds are what normally cover up quality issues, from what i've learned. then again, it might depend on the psd. IMPORTANT NOTE IF YOU UTILIZE THIS: If you’re using google Images, searching for actual screencaps might lead you to blogs or websites dedicated to capping—many of which ask for credit if you use their content. Also, avoid reposting people's edits or gifs, since those will inevitably show up when searching faceclaim names and similar tags. on the off chance you find free-to-use faceclaim content, be sure to credit if/when asked !

photopea. it's a great alternative for those of us who can't be assed to learn adope, nor can afford it .

I know it doesn't look like much, but this is genuinely my go-to formula. I don't think there's any need for anything over the top. That said, if you guys have better alternatives or anything to add, feel free—this is just based on my own experience.

ADDITIONAL EDITING TIPS: If you find yourself stumped creatively or unsure how to approach using these, I’d recommend breaking down the character or setting you’re working with in terms of aesthetic. What are some keywords or imagery you associate with that muse ? Take a character like h/arry p/otter, for example—focus on individual visuals, important symbols, and signature colors. For him, I’d think of round glasses, lightning bolts, owls, candles, spell books, brooms, etc. Then, take each of those elements and explore them individually. I’d maybe start by looking up “owls” on Pinterest; from there, I might find images that can be turned into pngs. Repeat that process with every vibe or detail that comes to mind. You don’t have to limit yourself to making pngs either—feel free to experiment by blending different images together and building a look from there.

ADDITIONAL UPDATES/RECOMMENDATIONS:

Screencapped ( * will need an account )

VLC Media Player ( * good for screencaps / things you've downloaded from youtube )

[thehighladywrites]

— “Aren’t you just the cutest?”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy/popular reader

☀︎ — summary: You adopt a stray kitten, naming it after someone close to your heart

☀︎ — warnings: fatally cute

☀︎ — amara’s note: Help i got this request earlier today and i just had to write it. This is the cutest thing i’ve ever written. I adore writing for bimbo reader, she’s so cute!!! | based on this request

series masterlist

“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing on earth?” you squeal in delight as you spot a tiny black kitten outside the grocery store.

Bending down, you plop yourself on the edge of the pavement and scoop up the kitten, cradling it gently in your arms.

“Meow,” it mewls, its big round eyes looking at you with an innocent gaze. It has shaggy, fluffy black fur and beautiful hazel eyes, reminding you of someone very dear to you.

“You don’t seem to have an owner, do you? Hm, I see no collar and no one is around. Tell me, kitty, ya hungry?” you coo at it, tilting your head inquisitively, and the kitten mimics the movement in a cute, almost cartoonish way.

Realizing the kitten might not respond to you, you nod your head in determination.

“Don’t worry, kitty cat, you can come home with me. I’ll just get you some food first.”

You glance into your grocery bags and then back at the kitten sheepishly.

“I guess you can’t eat ice cream and sushi, can you?” you say with a giggle, realizing your mistake.

Looking around to make sure no one is watching, you carefully pick up the kitten and gently tuck it into your tote bag. With a nonchalant demeanor, you stroll into the store, doing your best not to attract attention to your feline stowaway.

“Hello, Ms. L/N! Back for some more?” Vanessa, the cashier asks as she notices your quick return.

You freeze, subconsciously clutching your bag as you look around. “Hey, V! I just forgot a little something. I’ll be in and out,” you say nervously, just as your bag meows. You both look at each other in surprise.

“D-Did your bag just meow?” Vanessa asks, raising an eyebrow.

“N-no, um, that was me! I was just bored. Okay, bye V, see ya,” you stammer, trying to play it off as a joke before hurrying further into the store.

You can’t help yourself from getting every single cat toy on the planet, along with every type of food you think the kitten might like. Now, the trunk of your car is filled with toys as you strap the kitten into the passenger seat of your rose Porsche Taycan.

“Okay, kitty. I’ll put on some music. And I don’t know what kind of music you dig, so you’ll just have to listen to Frank Ocean. He’s a really good artist!” you chirp cheerfully, adjusting the volume knob as you drove, hoping the kitten will enjoy Pink+White playing.

Driving into your garage, you park your car and bring your newest housemate inside.

There, you play with him, squealing in happiness at the way he jumps cutely. You praise him and clap your hands whenever he does a cool trick. He even liked the mini bat wings you got for him. The kitten looked so stinkin’ cute in them you just had to take a million photos!

After a while, you get his bowls, fill one with food and the other with water as you sit down next to him, eating your sushi.

“I have to name you something, kitty. I mean, ‘kitty cat’ is adorable, but you need a new name. But just what?” You pout and furrowed your brows, thinking really hard as you lay on the plushy fluffy carpet, the kitten resting on your chest, tired after hours of playing.

As you pat his fur, you wonder what name would suit him. He has black fur and hazel eyes, is calm and collected, just like… Suddenly, your eyes widen, and you gasp.

“Oh my gods, Azzie! Your name is totally Azzie!”

Excitedly jumping up from the carpet, you practically skip over to your laptop, eager to make your new housemate’s name official. After a quick search, you find the perfect pink collar with a heart-shaped tag that says “Azzie.” Without a second thought, you click “Add to Cart” and eagerly wait for it to arrive. After all, Azzie deserved nothing but the best!

—

The next time Azriel comes over, he is greeted by a furry surprise.

As he steps into your home, his eyes widen in astonishment as he spots a tiny kitten sitting on the plush carpet, its hazel eyes mirroring his own.

For a moment, they both freeze in their tracks, assessing each other with a mix of curiosity and wonder. Slowly, Azriel puts down the math books on the counter before he approaches the kitten, his gaze never leaving its adorable face. Kneeling down, he extends his hand tentatively, unsure of how the little creature will react.

To his amazement, the kitten responds by rubbing its nose against his hand, nuzzling into his palm with a happy purr. Azriel can't help but smile, his heart melting at the sight of the affectionate gesture from his miniature doppelganger.

As the cat jumps into his lap, the jingle of its collar catches Azriel's attention. He glances down and notices the pink collar with a heart-shaped tag that read "Azzie" in delicate letters.

A surprised chuckle escape his lips as he gently pets the kitten, realizing that it has been named after him. The gesture warms his heart, and he can’t help but feel a newfound fondness for the furry little companion.

You walk into the room and are met with the heartwarming sight of Azriel playing with your kitten. A smile spreads across your face as you join in, the three of you engaging in a playful game of chase and pounce. Laughter fills the air as you watch Azriel's eyes light up with joy, his usual stoic demeanor melting away in the presence of the adorable feline.

“Oh, Azzie, you two are so freakin’ cute together, I think I might die,” you gush, clapping your hands in delight.

Azriel looks up, a shy smile gracing his lips. “Yeah, I guess he's not so bad,” he replies, his nerdy, shy charm shining through.

You giggle, scooping up the kitten and holding it close. “He's the best! And he's just like you, Azzie. Quiet, calm and sweet like candy!”

Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at the comparison, but he can't hide the fondness in his eyes as he kisses your cheek before he continues to play with the kitten. Together, the three of you get to know each other better, happy with the new addition to your life.

🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @andrewgarfield2022 @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @dwlyniii @scooobies @harryshoobies69 @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @rowaelinsdaughter @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @viatorem-maris @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch

[nanivinsmoke]

PYSKINKTOBER

welcome to PYSKINKTOBER! im you’re host, nani, and we got a few games to play! before we start, you might be wondering what is PSYKINKTOBER, well it’s a new thing im starting—it’s still kinktober but I wanted to add some psychotic oneshots to the mix.

all PYSKINKTOBER one shots will be tagged with trigger warnings when needed to. some of these might not get done, but ill let you guys know!

in the meantime, who’s ready to to play?

PRESS PLAY

◃◁ ► ▷▹

PAPARAZZI . ❥ mma!fighter toji x fem!reader — ROUND ONE + tw: stalking

summary ❥ the story of how the paparazzi changed the life of the strongest mma fighter. heavily inspired by lady gaga’s song ‘ NSFW CONT ‘

DADDY’S DEALINGS ❥ patch!wolverine x fem!reader — ROUND TWO   summary ❥ dont fuck with him while he’s working. you knew that, but what happens when you try to fuck on him during work? ' NSFW CONT '

KNOCK THAT KITTY CAT OUT! ❥ old!manlogan x f!reader — ROUND THREE   summary ❥ everything and everyone seems to stress the old man out, what happens when he takes it all out on you? title inspired by sir mix a lot ' NSFW CONT '

S(C)ARRIE STORIES ❥ supernatural x fem!reader — ROUND FOUR   summary ❥ whatever you do, don’t let the winchester brothers convince you to watch scary movies with you—especially while you’re high.

AND I CAME! ❥ dbf!toji x fem!reader — ROUND FIVE

summary ❥ handing out candy to trick-o-treaters with him should be easy, right? inspired by love game by lady gaga ' NSFW CONT '

HURTS SO GOOD ❥ laststand!logan x fem!reader — BONUS ROUND ONE   summary ❥ you find out logan has a pain kink. ' NSFW CONT '

NIGHTMARE ON KINK STREET ❥ tf!sukuna x fem!reader — BONUS ROUND TWO   summary ❥ scary movies before bed? seems like you’re just asking for a scare. ' NSFW CONT '

[daisyblog]

Small Bump

Young Love Masterlist Summary: Louis and YN share the news that they’re having another baby with the boys.

Based on this request.

The boys first show back after their little break in between tour legs was in Cardiff, and Louis and YN were trying to keep their baby news to themselves for a little longer until they had their scan and knew everything was okay.

But unlike her first pregnancy with Mia, YN was feeling the symptoms. Every morning she would wake and have to run to the bathroom, hoping she would make it to the toilet in time, thanks to the morning sickness. But the name made no sense because it didn’t just happen in the morning, certain smells would cause her to heave and the night time was just as bad.

Before Louis had to head off to soundcheck, ahead of their first Cardiff show, he was sat rubbing YN’s back and moving her hair out of the way as she was being sick.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this”. Louis sympathised as his hand continued to rub circles on her back.

YN took a sip from her water bottle, trying to get the taste from her mouth. “S’not your fault…just part of being pregnant”.

Louis noticed YN’s tired eyes, the darkness that sat under them were screaming for sleep. “I’m gonna take Mia with me to soundcheck…you go rest and have some sleep before tonight”. YN went to argue but Louis stopped her. “No ifs or buts…Lottie can watch Mia whilst we’re rehearsing.”

YN didn’t put up the fight and decided to listen and get some rest. While YN got into bed and peacefully fell asleep, Louis took Mia with him to the stadium.

It was very rare not to see YN and Mia tottering behind Louis at the venues, but Liam was quick to notice that YN was missing.

“Where’s YN?”. His eyebrows frowned. His question causing Niall and Harry to look around too.

“She’s didn’t sleep very well…so she’s still at the hotel”. Louis tried to keep his answer short and sweet, afraid their secret may slip from his lips.

Mia came running down the corridor with Lottie right behind her. “Uncle ‘arry!”. She ran straight into Harry’s open arms. “Auntie Lottie did me ‘air…look”. The younger child showed off her French plaits that were nearly done.

“Wow! You look so cool!”. Harry made a fuss that only made Mia coy with shyness.

Niall gave her tummy a little tickle, as she sat tall in Harry’s arms. “Just like a princess!”.

“Can I have matching plaits?”. Liam teased as he ran his hand over his short hair.

“Don’t be silly…your ‘air is too small”. Mia giggled into her hands.

---

As the weeks went on, so YN’s hormones were rising, and didn’t Louis know it. If she wasn’t crying, she was angry and if she wasn’t sad, she was like a woman on a mission. Louis liked to guess which personality he was going to wake up to. Today seemed like the emotional YN.

YN, Louis and the boys were enjoying some calm time ahead for the show in Denmark that evening. Mia was laying on the floor, a piece of paper in front of her as she coloured quietly.

As the boys chatted amongst themselves, YN glanced over at Mia who was colouring in a picture of a flower she had drawn, the green pen moved across the paper.

Tears began to build up in her eyes, as she watched her not so little baby anymore. One by one the tears began to escape down her cheeks and little sniffles left her nose.

Louis glanced to his side, where YN was sitting. “Hey! What’s wrong babe?”. He was taken back by how quickly her mood changed.

“Are you alright YN?”. Harry asked, frown lines appearing on his forehead, as he sat up in his chair.

Niall’s attention picked up, as he began to bite at his fingernails. Liam watching the scene in front of them too.

Using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe away the tears from her cheeks, YN felt the emotions build up. “I-it’s just…Mia…s-she looks so g-grown a-and not m-my little baby anymore!”.

Niall immediately tucked his lips into his mouth, not trusting himself not to laugh, knowing it wasn’t a funny situation. Liam watched Louis for his reaction and Harry glanced down to where Mia was still colouring, completely oblivious to her mother’s emotional outburst.

“Aww babe…I know it’s bittersweet to see her grow up…but she’ll always be our baby”. Louis tried to sympathise but at the same time couldn’t understand why she was crying now considering Mia was only four.

“B-but…she’s gonna m-move out before w-we know it”. The tears kept falling, one after the other, meeting at the end of her face.

Niall now moved his hand to cover his mouth to stop the laugh that was building up inside him coming out.

“YN…babe…she’s four…I think we’ve got a while until we have to think about that”. Louis reached over to pull her into him for a cuddle as he kissed the top of her head.

“Unless she goes on X Factor at sixteen and never comes home again!”. Liam joked at very bad time, causing Harry and Niall to snap their heads in his direction.

YN only blubbered more into Louis’ arms at his teasing. “Not the time to joke Liam”. Harry intervened.

Liam only put his head down in shame. “Sorry!”.

---

After another tour leg break, YN and Louis were finally ready to share their news with the boys. They had been for their first scan and saw their second healthy and wriggly baby.

They had thought of different ways they could surprise the boys but couldn’t agree, until YN saw a little tutu outfit for Mia with ‘Big Sister’ written across the top. So that’s when they decided they would let Mia do the talking…or showing.

San Diego was the first show back and Louis and YN were the last to arrive to the venue that day as they were pre occupied dressing Mia in her new outfit.

“Dress is so pretty”. Mia span around in a circle, allowing the dress to spin with her.

“The perfect dress for a big sister”. Louis smiled wildly as Mia continued to try and make the tutu spin.

Mia ran her fingers over the words. “Mummy has a baby in her tummy”.

YN ran her hand over the smallest little bump that was peaking out from her dress. “I do…and you’re going to have a little brother or sister”.

With Mia walking proudly around the stadium with her new dress on show, YN and Louis walked behind her waiting to see if the boys would notice.

“Mia! Where’s my girl?”. Niall was quick to notice the young Tomlinson walking to the dressing room. Scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around as she giggled.

“Hey! Tell Uncle Niall he’s got to share”. Harry teased as Niall put Mia back down on the ground, allowing her to give Harry and Liam a cuddle too.

Liam pinched the tutu material of her dress. “Waw I love your dress…it’s very pretty”.

Harry turned his attention to the dress noticing the writing and re reading it to make sure he had read it correctly. But before he had chance to say anything, Niall’s voice boomed through the room.

“No way! You’re joking!”. Niall directed his shock to Louis and YN, who stood near wearing slight smirks on their faces.

Harry looked at the dress again to make sure. “Are you really? You’re having a baby?”.

“What?!”. Liam shot up from his position on the leather sofa. “You’re pregnant?”.

YN and Louis shared a look of happiness as they watched the boys react. Louis breaking the suspense that they were in, waiting for someone to say something. “We’re having another baby!”.

Louis and YN expected a happy reaction from them because of how much they loved Mia, but when the three all looked at each other and let out a loud cheer as they grabbed one and other and bounced around at the news, they were pleasantly surprised.

“YEEESSSSSS!”. The three boys screamed in excitement at another baby entering their little family they had created.

Louis wrapped his arm around YN, finding her lips with his and sealed the special moment with a kiss.

Breaking the couple up, the boys wrapped their arms around them both, bringing them in on their shared excitment.

“Hey! Watch me lady…she’s carrying precious cargo!”. Louis shouted out as the boys continued to squeeze them both.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @slaymybreathaway @wh0s-nadii @peterholland04 @lillisummers

[autumnoakes]

why did it take me like. at least 3 playthroughs of claire's scenario to realize that the woman on the table in the orphanage wasn't a mannequin like i originally thought but an actual dead body

[bunnyteetharry]

The Orange Peel Theory

summary: doing the orange peel theory on harry after he got home from the studio

warnings: none?

pairing: boyfriend!arry x girlfriend! reader

————⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ —————⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ —————⋆ ˚｡⋆

You set up your phone in between some cooking books on shelf planted near the kitchen wall, trying your best to hide it in the most discreet way possible so Harry couldn’t spot it right away when he walks in.

Almost everywhere, you’ve seen people ask their significant others to peel an orange for them to test a theory if they will do a small task for you and you’ve been dying to do it for weeks. Recently Harry has been busy in the studio but thankfully he found some time just for the two of you.

The sound of the door unlocking made you jump and rush towards the stools near the kitchen island. You quickly grabbed a random magazine and aimlessly flipped through it, pretending to be fascinated with in so Harry wouldn’t get suspicious. As he walked in, his eyes met yours and an instant smile formed onto his lips. He shook off his shoes and threw his keys into the small green bowl you have displayed on the side table by the door.

“Hi my love” he mumbled before planting his lips to yours, his hand coming up to softly wrap clutch onto your jaw and neck. “Hey baby, how was your day” he sighed deeply as he slumped onto the stool in front of you, placing his hands on your thighs to squeeze them before wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his head on your chest. “Tiring but good, got a lot done today” he kissed the nap of you neck before laying his head back down “Hopefully we get some good news soon about the next album” you smiled ranking your hand through his hair .

“Hey H can you do me a favor” you whispered pecking his forehead, he hummed looking up at you with raised eyebrows “Can you get me and orange” he smiled and got up and around the island towards the fruit basket next to the pink coffee maker. Despise what your guest might think, that was his add on when shopping for items for your first shared apartment.

He bent over the counter and handed it towards you, without grabbing it, you moved your arms, locking your hands together and laying your head on top of them “Actually can you peel it for me baby” he looked confused for a bit before shrugging It off and started to peel the fruit for you. You started to laugh softly, looking back at the camera with a wide smile on your face, Harry looked up and searched around for what you were smiling at, as he squinted towards the books shelf he spotted the camera.

“What are you doing” he shook his head smirking, you slide off the chair and went straight to your phone, pausing it before recording again to point the camera close to his face. He rolled his eyes, still having a smirk plastered on his face. “I would have done it even if I wasn’t being recorded” he says to the camera before walking away to your shared room with your laugh echoed throw the walls.

a/n: sorry for it being so short, I’ve just been working on small things here and there, If you having any suggestions please send them! <3

[psychomusic]

presenting to you: vegoia laran!

vegoia is the daughter of suri and tar'x laran, so, she's half-mirialan and half-zabrak. she lived on the mountains of mirial with her family until she began her jedi training at around 10 years, then she became a jedi seer.

more of her childhood under the cut! the rest of her story will be on other posts, I'll link them at the end when I'll post them

thank you @furious-blueberry0 for letting me use your padawan braid idea and jedi seer headcanon!! i really really love these ideas <3

since her birth, she seemed special at the eyes of her people, due to an old local myth: the founding witch.

(the myth is: a powerful witch, haunted by complex visions of the future, was exiled to the desert planet of mirial. after years spent traveling she had one clear vision on top of a mount, in which she saw the potential beauty of the valley, full of different lifeforms flourishing. with her magical powers, she turned that possible future into a reality, and everything changed: the 4 peoples who lived there started turning into trees and animals, what once was sterile rock became fertile ground, and craters were filled with water. but despite her good work, the incomprehensible visions kept returning. tired of the universe's infinite lessons, she decided to crystalize all of her visions and knowledge into the sacred crystal, and prophetized, before dying, that one day someone attuned to it would come to claim the crystal and understand the lessons she couldn't understand)

because of her albinism (that made her white like the crystal) and of her horns (the crystal has an horned shape), people thought she was the prophetized one. when she began to talk - rather late, and asked people to resolve the riddles that "a bearded man told her in her dreams" - what was just a rumor solidified into a belief.

her mother and grandfather, both in the high priesthood, taught her everything they could. they taught her to study, to reflect, and they explained to her their religion and folklore. also, her mother often tried to help her in her quest of finding answers. from her, vegoia learned how to study, and the right mindset to be able, later, to explore the jedi's philosophy and beliefs.

but it was her father that, despite his absence, taught her how to compromise with her visions, how to be patient, how to handle the state of ignorance, and how to enjoy it anyway. he was somehow better at understanding her, and making her understand things, than everyone else in the town. maybe, it was because he not only had met different force users, but also had experience with a force sensitive kid (his little brother, whom vegoia shared a lot of similar traits). despite her mother being a healer & priestess, and believing in the value in helping people, it was her father who really grounded that belief in her. in particular, he did it in a moment that. also shaped her experience of the force. a simple moment, though: she had asked him to kill a scary bug that was laying flat on its back, but he refused and instead asked her to help it. he believed that helping is what gives life sense - even more than the bonds we make, because it can't be undone. when vegoia picked up the bug and helped it get back on its feet, she could feel the bug's relief, and maybe even gratitude, through the force. this was the imprint of her experience of the force: connection (even more than her visions, that just "happened" to her, and couldn't actively call upon her).

BUT I DIGRESSED way too much on her childhood. the most important event in her childhood was the day she was taken by the jedi, even if she didn't know what truly happened that day.

the SIS had been tracking her father's movements for a while and had found out about his trips to mirial. worried that the empire was planning something, they sent a squad of operatives to investigate. since his father had often worked for the dark council, the SIS requested a jedi to come with them. when they arrived, suri went to talk to them. they threatened her into talking and she told them of their secret family. the SIS decided to take them prisoners, capture him when he got back, and make him talk using his family as leverage. the jedi disagreed with such methods but the operation was under the SIS's jurisdiction. suri then tried to convince them to leave the town and her daughter, and to instead blackmail him with her. the SIS refused, fearing that the sith might kill him before he could even know about the blackmailing. the jedi, feeling vegoia's strong presence in the force decided to make a deal: vegoia would've come with him to the temple to become a jedi. she'd still have a life, while suri would stay under their custody for the SIS trap. this would also show the agent the difference between the republic and the empire, and hopefully that would help him talk. she accepted at one condition: that they took her away before her father came back, so that she wouldn't have to live through it. vegoia didn't know of her father's real job, like everyone else in the town (everyone thought he had traded his services to the hutts to have the sacred horned crystal back).

they agreed, but, while suri was busy packing thing for vegoia, the SIS decided to put another condition. vegoia musn't be told anything about that day until her father had been taken into republic's custody, as a precaution. the jedi agreed, thinking it wouldn't be long before her father would come home and be arrested. little did he know this momentary omission would grow into a years-old lie.

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 4

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter. Masterlist

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. ...Well, maybe you also hated Annabel Williams as much - but you'd be damned before you let a drunk girl out in the hallway without helping her.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix doesn't make an appearance (but still mentioned), Reader is a girl's girl, Annabel has an epiphany, Michael hates everyone BUT Reader, Farleigh is Farleigh, alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic. Also Oliver is barely in this chapter, but who cares about that asshat?

Author's Note: I am so sorry for the prolonged hiatus! It was not intentional! My classes have upped the ante in how much HW they gave me, and I got distracted by reading my old GOT fanfics and got ideas for it. BUT - thank you all who've been reading this fic and sharing wonderful comments! They really help push me to become a better writer!

You were caught in a bit of a pickle – granted, it was a voluntary pickle, but a pickle nonetheless.

…Okay, so quick recap of the events that transpired this week:

Regularly-scheduled Annabel tormenting you

Got sexually-harassed by Catton

Had a self-pity session at Bowin

Got found by Mikey Gravy

Olly, the psychotic backstabber/bootlicker, tried to pimp you out to Felix Catton.

You almost committed aggravated homicide of said pimp before Michael dragged you away.

You went to the movies to drool over Johnny Depp.

 You and Michael decided you would crash in his dorm room for the night…leading to your current predicament.

Right now, you were dragging an unconscious Annabel, who was drunk off her ass, with one arm flung over your shoulder as you tried to make get any information of where her dorm was out of her. It was a sad picture – mascara running down her cheeks, vomit from her mouth, and lipstick messily smeared across her face. The smell of vomit mixed with cheap booze was almost enough to make you want to drop her on the ground and leave her there if you hadn’t pitied her so much.

When you realized that you weren’t going to get anything out of her that didn’t involve projectile vomiting, you just decided to bring her to rest up in your dorm.

“I still don’t understand why you’re helping her,” Michael grunted.

Oh, yeah…and Michael was helping you, too.

“Because girl code, Gavey–” you grunted, lifting Annabel’s arm higher when you felt her slipping “–no man left behind – or well, no woman left behind in this case.”

“That’s the Geneva Code.”

“Same difference,” you groaned out. Fuck, how was this girl so heavy?

Michael’s face was getting flushed from the sweat running down his forehead. “So, girl code dictates that you have to help the bitch who’s been making your term hell?”

“Girl Code,” you huffed, “wait, hang on - she’s slipping - okay, there we go. ‘Girl Code’ is more of an honor code expected to be followed by all sisters on their journey to womanhood. And one of the most sacred rules in that honor system is that – fuck, she’s heavy – that if you see a sister drunk and unconscious, you make sure she gets home safe.”

“Or your matchbox dorm room, in this circumstance,” your friend grumbled.

You tiredly nodded. “Exactly! Besides, regardless of how heinous she is, it’s the right thing to do.”

“(Y/N), you realize she won’t be getting hypothermia, right?” Michael frustratingly groaned. “It’s late spring.”

“But that doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there who won’t take advantage of her in her current state. They’d say, ‘Oh, she was asking for it,’ or ‘she’s just imagining things, do you remember how hammered she was?’ And then it’ll be their word against hers.”

You went silent for a bit. “I don’t want that to happen to her. No one should have that happen to them – girl or guy, bully or friend.”

“Well, in any case,” Michael started as the two of you finally arrived at the beginning of your dormitory. “It’s lucky that your dorm is so close to mine. Are you sure you want her in there? There’s still the chance she’ll vomit all over your carpet if she misses the bucket or even your covers.”

You opened the door with your ID card. “I’ll just have to take that chance, I guess. Look, I’ll try to wake her up long enough to see if she remembers any of her friend’s numbers. If any of them pick up, I’ll tell them to pick her up.”

Michael looked at you with heavy doubt in his eyes. “And if they don’t? Pick up, I mean?”

“Then I guess we’ll be having a sleepover,” you sighed as you reached your room at the end of the hallway. “And then we’ll never have to see each other ever again when morning comes.”

Michael loudly snorted while you clumsily reached into your back pocket for your keys. “Don’t jinx yourself. With your bleeding heart, you’ll probably end up donating your liver to her if she doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning first.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come one. Have a bit more faith in me – SHIT!” you exclaimed after you dropped your keys.

You quickly scrambled to the floor while Michael guffawed at your misfortune. You shot a quick glare at him to get him to shut up. The bespectacled bastard didn’t stop laughing until…like, three minutes passed. In response, you dropped Annabel’s arm from your shoulder to focus on finding your room key. You chuckled to yourself when you heard Michael curse to himself as he tried to balance the drunk girl’s weight without getting her too close to him. When you finally found it, you inserted it into the lock. You sighed in relief when the door opened. You were even more relieved that your roommate had decided to spend the night at her girlfriend’s dorm. You really didn’t want to have to explain to her why you were voluntarily helping the vile witch bitch who was actively trying to make your college years hell. Meanwhile, Michael grimaced and groaned as he held Annabel away from his body at arm’s length.

“Is sluttiness contagious through touch?” he asked.

“Unless pre-Sith Anakin suddenly pops into this hallway, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that,” you snorted as you opened the door to let Michael drag the unconscious girl into the room.

Michael scoffed at your choice of Star Wars beefcake. “Bitch, please. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi was far superior.”

He went to the center of the room and released Annabel from his grip to let her unceremoniously fall on the floor, and her body made a soft ‘thump.’ You wrinkled your nose and grimaced at the pathetic nature of tonight. She looked less like the glamorous Oxford party ‘IT’ girl and more like one of those sad groupies who OD’d in their favorite rockstar’s pool from a house party. You didn’t know what the hell her story of tonight was – but it still didn’t mean she deserved to be left alone, slumped against a wall in a dirty hallway with vomit all over her.

You turned to Michael. “Okay! Off you trot!”

Your favorite bespectacled blonde nerd gave you a look of complete bewilderment.

“Seriously?” he asked. “Not even a thank you? I literally dragged her body here from my dormitory and risked being the first victim of a new STD contracted through skin contact.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics – if he weren’t such a numbers genius, he would have been the perfect theater kid.

“Don’t be such an incel,” you admonished. “It’s not a good look on you. And I carried more of her body weight than you, dumbass. If I left it up to you, we’d never get anywhere with your twiggy arms.”

You poked his arms in emphasis and snickered when he pouted. He crossed his arms and was about to leave when you pounced on him. A bit of Annabel’s “Britney Spears Fantasy” spray perfume soaked into his shirt, but other than that, he still smelled like himself. The scent of fresh laundry, freshly mowed grass, and spearmint toothpaste made you feel safe. His scent, combined with his body heat, enveloped you in comfort.

“Thanks, Mikey,” you whispered. “I know you didn’t have to help me, but you did anyway.”

Gavey wrapped his arms around you as he rested his chin on your head. He usually hated contact with anybody save his family, but you were always the exception. Michael should probably have warned you that the rotten and acidic odor from Annabel’s puke would ruin your shirt, but he just let himself replace her cheap perfume with your fragrance. The scent of your favorite honey and jasmine conditioner in your hair mostly covered the faint traces of turpentine and linseed oil on your skin.

“Of course I did,” he softly replied. “With your shit sense of direction, you would have ended up in the bottom of the ditch.”

You gasped and lightly pushed him away. “Uhhh, way to ruin the moment!”

Michael snickered at the way your jaw had dropped in shock and betrayal. You then resorted to mockingly punching him in the stomach as he did nothing to stop you. He couldn’t help but look at you in total and utter fondness as he continued to ‘beat him up.’

But in all honesty, Michael didn’t mind helping you. He loved it. He’d rather get Crucio-ed than say it, but you were his favorite person in the whole world. In a desert of fakes and masks of insincerity, you were like gentle rain with your genuine vibrance and rare honesty. He loved how endlessly kind and empathetic you were to others. He just hated it when you granted acts of kindness to the plebes unworthy of you. You’d give the benefit of the doubt to the worst of the worst on campus – Annabel being a case in point.

Remembering the drunk elephant in the room, Michael grabbed your fists and stared at you thoughtfully.

“Seriously, though,” he began, “why are you helping her? I know you told me about ‘girl code’ and all that. But is that seriously it?”

You thumped your head against his chest. “Look, I get it. Annabel is a horrible person, and with how awful she treated me – she doesn’t deserve my kindness, my help, or my pity. But that doesn’t change that it was the right thing to do. And if not us, who knows who would have picked her up? If another guy other than you ‘helped’ her…you do the math.”

A groggy voice broke the two of you apart. “Are you two going to shag? Because I can leave.”

You and Michael jumped apart as you watched Annabel lift herself from the floor and stagger to her feet. Her legs wobbled briefly before giving out, and then she fell to the floor. You turned to Michael and gave him one final hug before seeing him out. He looked disgusted at the girl sitting on the cheap carpet before turning to you, concerned. Mikey asked if you were confident you didn’t need him here to help you.

“I’ll take it from here,” you reassured him. You flexed your arm – 80s jock bully style. “I’m a tough girl. I carry my canvases and textbooks and everything, after all.”

“Okay,” he dragged out the last syllable. “But if you end up putting her down, give me a call, and I’ll help you bury the body.”

“Um,” interjected Annabel, “you know I’m right here, you arse.”

 “Hey,” you admonished, “he did help carry you here. He could have left you in that hallway alone.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed. “Probably did it so he could cop a feel, the slimy wanker.”

“Please,” Michael sneered, “as if I’d ever willingly touch someone with a higher body count than Dahmer and Bundy combined. I’m only here because I wanted to help (Y/N) – she’s the one who was worried about your sad self.”

Ugh, this was going to be a long night. You turned to Michael with apologetic eyes and reassured him that he wasn’t a wanker. You promised you’d make it up to him by buying all the Crunchie bars he wanted. Mikey’s eyes softened at your sincerity as he began to walk down the corridor to make the trek to his dorm.

You softly closed your door so as not to cause any further disturbance. When you turned around, you were startled by the dead stare Annabel was giving you. You looked down at your feet as you shifted uncomfortably in your spot. You cleared your throat to try and break the tension.

“Um, soooo…I’m glad you’re awake. You were sitting so still in that hall, I was worried you OD’d,” you nervously joked. But all she did was continue to stare at you. “So, do you have your phone with you? I figured it would be best if you called one of your friends. I’m sure they’re really worried about you. I know I’d be going out of my mind if one of my friends–”

“What kind of fucking game are you playing here?” she snarled. Her large, doe-brown eyes narrowed in anger as you stopped talking.

“Uhhh,” your mind was coming out blank. “Wait, I don’t – I don’t know what you mean?”

Annabel rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t play stupid. Why’d you help me? Did you want to take pictures of me drunk and unconscious?”

Your jaw fucking dropped. “What?! NO! I just–”

“I’m sure that would’ve made some fucking good blackmail material,” ignoring you and continuing, “I can see it: ‘Annabel Williams drunk in the hall after trying to shag fucking sad Ollie.’ You’re so obvious.”

You tried to explain yourself. “Okay, look- I think there’s a big misunderstanding here–”

“Or maybe you want to show the pictures to Felix, not that he’d care or anything. You got him all wrapped up in your little Yankee finger, you know that? It’s so pathetic and sick – it makes me want to–”

“HEY!” you yelled – finally making her just shut UP. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths to calm down. “Look, Michael and I were walking to his dorm when we saw you were sitting in the hallway. I tried to ask you if you had your phone on you and if you wanted me to call anyone, but you were out cold. And I couldn’t just leave you there, okay? That’s dangerous! And I didn’t know where you lived – you know, considering that you hate me–” you cut off your rambling with a deep breath “–so he and I dragged you to my dorm.”

The silence that followed was so stifling you wanted to open a window. Maybe if you let some fresh air in, it might calm the girl down. It would also help diffuse some of the puke odor stinking up your room.

“…Anyway, if you don’t have your phone on you right now, I can always call them myself. Do you remember their numbers? I know you and India are close. Do you think she’s available right now?”

More silence.

You began fidgeting. “I mean, you can stay over if no one is available? I don’t mind since my roommate is sleeping over–”

Annabel interrupted you again. “You’re so full of it. You just wanted to help me? For what? For the sake of being the goody-two-shoes kiss-ass, you’ve always been? Did you want me to bow and worship you?”

“Annabel,” you groaned, “it’s been a really long night, okay? And I don’t feel like arguing when you aren’t sober and in your right mind.”

“Oh yeah,” she bitterly laughed. “Be a pushover, and get everyone to love you. Tell everyone how much of a ‘heinous’ bitch I am. Play the victim – that’s all you’ll ever be. Just go back with your pathetic little nerd friend and be invisible and boring like the goody-goody who thinks she’s better than the rest of us.”

The quiet in the room was surprisingly loud. Shock and disbelief morphed into fury as your fists clenched so hard that your nails left red welts on your skin. Your body trembled in anger as your tongue felt too heavy to express everything you wanted to say.

‘Pushover’ she called you? ‘Play the victim,’ she said?

Who the hell was she to have any right to judge you? Did she have any idea what you’ve sacrificed? How much have you suffered and left behind? Could she even have the slightest decency to understand what you’ve been through? Of what she put you through?

…You know what? …Fuck her. Fuck Annabel Williams and all of Oxford’s elite. They were proof that Michael was right – that doing the right thing meant nothing to them.

Your voice was cold, and your eyes were numb. “…I’m going to take a shower,” you grab a towel and your shower buddy. “I want you to get the hell out of my dorm by the time I get back. Call your friend or don’t? Do whatever the hell you want. I don’t care.”

You slammed the door on your way out.

“Finally,” Annabel thought with some relief, “she’s gone.”

When you left, the room felt ten degrees colder the way the door slammed, and Annabel felt goosebumps form on her arm. This was the worst night of her life. She had never felt so humiliated.

Her mummy told her she was just born blessed because God knew she was exceptional, and she always believed that to be true. For her entire life, she was the girl every boy wanted to bed and the girl every girl wanted to be. She never had to fight for anyone’s attention. Her parents gladly bought her the latest versions of top-of-the-line technology. Her closet here and at her parent’s townhouse in Kensington was filled with designer-brand exclusives and limited-editions. She had everything.

For people like her, life was supposed to be easy. She was born at the top, so she would be there till the day she died.

So why was she losing to you?

When she came to Oxford, she figured it would be as easy as most of her life. She’d spend her time partying and networking with the right people. If she had to blackmail a nerd to take her classes or blow a teacher to give her an “A”? Who would say otherwise?

But then she met Felix Catton and finally felt she had met her match. Finally, there was someone who checked all the boxes: rich, tall, handsome, and fun. That part made Felix the golden sheep who stood above the rest of the flock – he was fun. Not only did he know how to have a good time, he knew how to properly fuck a girl, too.

She was so drunk off the taste of his lips and the feel of him around her – so much so that she broke her golden rule.

“Never fall first.”

Annabel felt herself falling hard for Felix Catton. She thought they were exclusive. He was her boyfriend, and she was his girlfriend. But then…he became distant. He stopped calling he and ignored her when they returned to campus after the break. But then he and she left the bar at Kings’ Crossing, and she was so happy! She wanted to cry when he kissed her hard and ripped her 100 quid top in half.

It didn’t matter if she wasn’t wet when he entered her. It didn’t matter that he didn’t wait for her to adjust when he started to thrust. It didn’t matter when she tried to moan his name; he would cover her mouth with his giant hand to shut her up. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t close to finishing when he came inside her. It didn’t matter when her windpipes were almost crushed when he fell on top of her after finishing.

They were together. He chose her! Annabel and Felix – Mrs. Felix Catton, she could see it now. They’d have a wedding in his house at Saltburn. She would have to meet his parents, but she wasn’t worried – all her flings’ parents loved her! They would be together forever, and nothing would ever–

“(Y/N),” Felix whispered above her – and Annabel’s world completely fell apart.

She immediately shoved his body off hers and hurriedly dressed before getting the hell out of his room. Annabel didn’t bother putting on her shoes before running with tears down her face to her dorm. And when she returned to her single, she flung herself to her bed and cried to sleep. She didn’t bother attending class that week – not when her heart broke.

Felix had been thinking about you – you. He called out your name after finishing. Was he imagining your naked body when hers was under him? Had he been imagining you every time he fucked her?

Annabel smelled Felix’s aftershave and wanted to rip the skin off her body. God, she never felt more like a whore in her entire life.

“God,” she thought, “I was so pathetic! How could I be so stupid to fall for Felix Catton? Why did I trick myself into hoping that we would be together?”

Felix wanted a good girl—like you—the American scholarship student who wanted to paint pretty pictures and was at the top of her classes. The lovely New Yorker who hung around losers and still held your head up high despite every professor thinking you were in over your head to come here. Some pushover bitch who was so pathetic and actually–

The door slammed open again, and Annabel’s pretty sure she’d scream if she weren’t so fucking tired. You came storming in with your towel and shower caddy in your hands, and your eyes were a raging storm while your lips were pursed like you had sucked a lemon. Your nostrils are flaring as you angrily breathe through your nose. Annabel was about to open her mouth, but you menacingly pointed at her with your pointer finger. It felt like forever until you finally opened your mouth.

“Look! We don’t have to be friends and I don’t expect us to be friends – but you know what? YES, I WOULD LIKE A THANK YOU! I dragged your unconscious ass across campus, and you REEKED of vomit and bad perfume! And not to body shame, but you are WAY TOO SKINNY to be healthy to be as heavy as you were when I carried you!”

“Excuse me?!” Annabel sputtered. “Who the fuck–”

“Oh! I’m not done!” you shouted. “I don’t know if you being horrible and a bitch is supposed to be some power trip or some shit, but it’s so cliché! Are we in Mean Girls? Are you Regina George? No, am I Janice from Lebanon? NO! And on that – I have a few bones to pick with you…MISSY!

I–” You pointed to yourself “–am NOT a pushover, okay? I fucking beat your stupid manwhore boy toy like it was goddamn ‘Whack o’ Mole’ for ruining my painting! Pushovers don’t do that!  FURTHERMORE – me calling you a ‘horrible person’ or ‘heinous bitch’ isn’t me ‘playing the victim’! You HAVE been a HORRIBLE person to me, alright? And what’s worse – I don’t have the slightest idea why! Was it something I said to you last term? Or were you born a spoilt princess who never had to work for anything in her life because mommy and daddy will always give you everything you want so you could forget that they would probably instead work than deal with their brat? Seriously – what is it? Because you’re driving me CRAZY!”

When you were done, Annabel sat on the floor, completely silent, and stared at you unblinkingly. She hadn’t expected you to come back so quickly – let alone to scream at her. She stared at your huffing and shallow breathing in awe and slight amazement. Your hair looked frazzled from your outburst, and your (e/c) eyes were bright with wild impulse.

Annabel felt her bottom lip quiver and stared at an ugly stain on the carpet. She didn’t want to show any more of herself than she had already. But what the hell? You already saw more of her than most of her so-called ‘friends.’ What was a little more? If she had to show more of the ugliest parts of herself, why not show it to someone she already hated?

Before she could stop herself, Annabel felt her shoulders sag and shake as sobs tore through her petite frame. Tears and snot were running down her face as she furiously tried to wipe them away – if nothing but to try and save some shred of dignity. Annabel was crying so much that she didn’t see the surprised look on your face morph to slight guilt since you thought you may gone too far with your rant. You reached out to tap her shoulder when you heard her speak.

“Why doesn’t he want me?” she sobbed. “What do I have to do to get him to love me?”

If you were taken aback by her crying, you were completely caught off-guard by her questions. You walked over to your desk and grabbed a box of tissues before crouching on the ground. You handed her a few tissues from the box and waved to her face to present them. Annabel noticed how you tried hard not to see how much her hand trembled when she reached forward to grab the tissues from you.

“Who?” you softly asked her. “Are you talking about Felix?”

Annabel blew her nose into the tissue hard. “Who else?! I mean…look at me! Everyone wants me! Everyone – boys, girls, teachers! Do you know how many of my past flings gladly emptied their pockets so I might wank them? But he wants you! What do you have that I don’t?”

Concern and pity shifted to confusion before realization kicked in, and you were so done with this conversation already. Maybe you were a slightly horrible person for this, but you felt so disappointed when Annabel told you that her entire drama with you had been over Felix Catton.

“…That’s why you’ve been tormenting me this entire term so far?” you flatly asked. “Because of Felix Catton?”

“He called out your name–” she gasped a heavy sob “– while he was fucking me! Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Okay, wow,” you thought, “that’s actually really shitty – fuck.”

“Do you know how humiliating that was for me? He was still inside me, for fucks’ sake! I felt him shrink!”

Okay – that was so much more information about Annabel’s and Felix’s sex life than you ever wanted to know.

You coughed into your hand as your face flushed red. “Oh, um–I’ve never really…done it before. So…I wouldn’t really don’t know how that feels.”

“Ugh, of course, you’re a virgin,” she groaned. “Don’t tell me you don’t drink either.”

When you remained silent, Annabel let out a bitter laugh. “Damn, you think you’re hot shit and everything. But you really are a goody-goody. What – you saving yourself for God or some shit?”

“HEY! Just because I like to keep my head down and not a party and get plastered every five minutes doesn’t make me a goody-two-shoes. I just don’t like the taste of alcohol, and increased chances of lung cancer doesn’t exactly spell out ‘fun’ for me.”

But Annabel ignores your outburst and continues to dismiss you. “Yeah, right. I bet you call your mommy and daddy every night. Do you tell them that you miss them and want to go home? Or do you wish to bake cookies with your mummy as daddy watches the telly?”

Annabel’s taunting is only responded to with silence as she grows confused by your melancholic expression.

“…I can’t call them at all,” you respond. “International calls are too expensive. The best I can do is email or Skype. And planned calls can hardly be reliable since my parents’ schedules are always all over the place with their jobs.”

“When–” Annabel’s voice cracked “– when’s the last time you saw them? In real life?”

“I was supposed to see them during Christmas Break,” you bitterly explained, “but then Felix crashed into me when I was on my way to deliver it. He ruined my painting, and I had to redo it completely, not to fail and completely flush my parents’ money down the drain.”

“I thought you were here on scholarship? Doesn’t that mean you don’t have to pay to come here?”

“I’m here on a partial scholarship,” you explained. “It covers a good part of my tuition, but not all of it – and definitely not for housing and meal plans. Travel expenses alone were so expensive, so I had to leave alone. Mom cried so much at the security checkpoint, and Dad almost didn’t want me to go. I didn’t even want to go. But they wanted me to experience more of the world while I still could.”

“…Do you miss them?” Annabel asked. She felt silly asking a question with such an obvious answer. But, hearing how you talked about your parents crying their goodbyes to you compared to the simple wave she got hers after they dropped her off campus made her feel a deep longing.

You let out a shaky sob. “More than anything. You never realize how much you miss your home and family until an entire ocean separates you.”

Annabel uncomfortably shifted in her spot as she noticed your eyes getting misty. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried over missing her parents and felt that you were being overdramatic. Annabel spent her entire break with her parents at their house, but she couldn’t remember the last time they ate at the same table unless it was for one of her dad’s dinner parties. What did it feel like – to miss and love someone so much after not seeing them for a year?

What did it feel like – to have an entire lifetime of that kind of love?

Does having that kind of love make you?

“…Why did you help me?” Annabel finally asked. She couldn’t bear the tension anymore. “You could have just left me there. Why help me and bring me here of all places?”

“…Because it was the right thing to do,” you explained and shrugged. “You were drunk and vulnerable. Maybe it was fear of being a potential bystander if someone tried to take advantage of you – but I was scared something was going to happen to you. Regardless of my feelings toward you and yours toward me, no one should ever find themselves in a position where if they’re telling the truth, it’s someone else’s word against theirs. I’ve seen it too happen many times already.”

“What do you say in response to that?” Annabel thought to herself – shocked by how genuinely you answered her question. Since you were honest with her, she figured she could at least be honest with you.

“If it were you,” she began, “I wouldn’t have done for you what you did for me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “you probably wouldn’t – but that’s neither here nor there. Because I’m me, and you’re you.”

“…Are you really not interested in Felix?” Annabel asked. She was surprised by your disgusted groan.

“Oh my god–” you put your face into your hands and loudly groaned “–I don’t understand why everyone has an obsession with this guy.”

Annabel raised her brow. “Seriously?”

“Yes! He’s so gross – I studied in an empty classroom last week. He sat next to me, basically propositioned me, and then put his hand on my thigh! Does that sound like someone I would want to date?”

“You know he’s just doing it to get your attention because he likes you, right?”

You scoffed at her input. “Pffft– and that makes it alright of him to invade my personal space via sexual harassment? I hate how everyone makes excuses for him – and why? Because he’s richer than God and has an ‘alright-looking’ face? So what?”

“Oh, believe me,” snickered Annabel, “he’s more than just ‘alright-looking’ and he fucks as good as he looks.”

You sagely shook your head. “A person like that has nothing to offer himself. He desperately clings to his family’s wealth and the benefits of his status so tightly – and he pretends not to enjoy it, but he’s the type of person to love leeching on someone’s misfortune to feel better about himself.”

You shuddered as you remembered Felix’s constant leering at you since the term began.

“He’s like a vampire – I’ve seen enough of them in high school to recognize them from miles away.”

Annabel was utterly silent at your analysis of Oxford’s Golden Boy. She never considered the possibility of someone out there who didn’t absolutely covet and revere him. She assumed that you were purposely playing ‘hard-to-get’ to get his attention, but maybe you were sincere in his disgust by him.

“Plus, he looks like the type to be absolutely shit at foreplay and only knows how to stick it in.”

Annabel was so caught off-guard by your statement that she immediately burst out laughing. You were surprised by her reaction and started to laugh, too. She was laughing so hard that tears started rolling down her cheeks, and her stomach started to hurt.

“HE IS!” she agreed while nodding. “He does the bare minimum! I’ve been giving him constant blowjobs, and I can count the number of times he’s eaten me out with one hand! The only type of prep he knows how to do is finger me!”

“Oh my god! EW!” you guffawed. “Why did you put up with him for so long?!”

Annabel shrugged. “He’s the most popular guy on campus – even the upperclassmen adore him. I was always the popular girl throughout primary and secondary prep. It just made sense.”

“My parents told me college was all about discovering new things about yourself,” you said. “Maybe…you could do that for yourself.”

Annabel looked wistful before nodding. “Yeah…you know this doesn’t mean we’re friends, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, tonight’s the last night I’m willingly dealing with a demon like you. I’ll stick to forcing Michael to watch my favorite Johnny Depp movies—thank you very much.”

Annabel watched your eyes soften at the mention of your friend…Michael Gravy? Was he the guy who left the two of you together after snarking at her?

…Oh god, it all made sense now.

“Are you and Gravy fucking?” she bluntly asked. She huffed in amusement at how red your face became as you began to sputter.

“WHAT?! No-NO! We’re friends!” you exclaimed before getting all shy.

“You were awfully protective of him a bit ago to be ‘just friends,’” Annabel countered. “Spill it – what’s going on between you two?”

“He’s my best friend,” you explained to Annabel. “He let me stay with his family after I finished repainting my assignment – which was really amazing of him.”

She watched how you smiled when continuing to talk about him.

“I know he can seem a bit odd and rude at first,” you continued. “But Michael is one of the best people on campus. He can be really sweet when you get close to him – especially when he talks about his family. His little sister, Lily, is so adorable! He’s a total nerd but a complete sweetheart when you get to know him.”

Annabel bemusedly watched as you gushed about your ‘best friend.’ It was almost sweet how gone you were for the nerd. You didn’t even realize how gone you were for him. For a bit, Annabel could see why Felix was so enamored with you.

“Well,” she interrupted as she stood up, “I guess your obliviousness to your feelings isn’t any of my business or whatever. Thanks for…helping me – it was really nice of you.”

You warmly smiled at her. “Sure! Do you have to meet anyone tomorrow morning?”

“Uh, no?”

You walked to your closet and grabbed a towel, a worn T-shirt, and old sweats. You handed them to her as Annabel looked at you in confusion.

“Since you’re here,” you began, “and it’s already like…3 a.m. – you might as well shower and stay over since tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“…Why?”

“You still have puke all over you,” you explained, “and it’s getting really hard pretending it’s not extremely gross. Plus, I can’t imagine you’re comfortable right now.”

“What’s with the clothes?”

You shrugged. “Well, I can’t exactly have you sleep in your dress and ruin my sheets! You can shower and sleep on my bed while I sleep on my roommate’s. Now, are you going to take them?”

Annabel hesitated before she took the bundle from your hands. You then opened the door. While holding it, you looked at her as if expecting her to follow you. What confused her most was the way she did exactly that.

While in the shower, she didn’t even mind that you didn’t have any of her usual hair products. Your conditioner looked like it was bought at a cheap dollar store – you didn’t even have a loofah. But when she exited the shower stall before drying herself with your towel and changing into your baggy clothes, she felt calmer than she had these past few weeks. As she crawled under your sheets and comforter, you turned off the night and wished her good night.

Annabel stared at the ceiling for about an hour before she grabbed her phone. She managed to find it while digging through her dress pockets. She was going to wash it when she got back to her dorm. Opening it, she rolled down at the dozens of messages from India and their girlfriends. Her eyes slightly widened at the soft *ping* her phone let out when she got a new message to show it was from Felix.

To her surprise, she didn’t feel anything. She didn’t care he messaged her that he had forgotten their plans. Staring at her screen, she just felt…nothing. So she did the very thing she should have done weeks ago.

She deleted Felix Catton’s number from her contact list.

Annabel slept better that night than she had all term.

After that night with Annabel, life simply went on. She and you weren’t ‘friends’ per se, but she no longer went out of her way to torment you like she had done before. She even told off some of her friends when they talked about you behind your back.

You two weren’t friends, but you hoped that there was at least some fraction of mutual respect. If you couldn’t be friends, then at least you two didn’t have to be enemies – you were happy to settle for being a ‘frenemy.’

You found yourself sitting by yourself at one of the tables in the library. Michael had to meet with one of his teachers about an essay but promised to meet with you as soon as he finished. You were repeatedly listening to Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” when you heard the chair next to you being pulled out.

Fully expecting it to be Felix, you were ready to tell him to fuck off and bother some other poor soul that needed saving, but you were surprised to find that the person sitting next to you was his cousin, Farleigh Start. He introduced himself by stating his name and giving you a firm handshake. There wasn’t much you could do but reciprocate.

“Quite the save you gave our Annabel,” Farleigh grinned. “Very magnanimous of you, especially considering how she treated you.”

“What do you want from me?” you blurted out. “I’m busy, and I would appreciate it if you just left so I can continue studying.”

You weren’t normally so rude, but this was Felix Catton’s cousin – and if this was a ploy to get you in his pants, you wanted no part of it. But your skepticism only seemed to please the boy sitting beside you more. His wry grin curled into a wide Cheshire Cat smile as he continued to stare at you with eager fascination.

Farleigh started to lean toward you, and you instinctively leaned away from him. You eyed him with extreme caution as if he were a mad scientist and you were a paralyzed specimen. And his eyes looked like he couldn’t wait to cut you open.

“I like you,” he stated. “Let’s be friends.”

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[pixiecactus]

himbo!gendry/dumb!gendry? i don't know him...

Look with your eyes, Arya wanted to shout at the men below. "Can't they see we're no lords or knights?" she whispered. "I don't think they care, Arry," Gendry whispered back. And she looked at Ser Amory's face, the way Syrio had taught her to look, and she saw that he was right.

.

The air was full of birds, crows mostly. From afar, they were no larger than flies as they wheeled and flapped above the thatched roofs. To the east, Gods Eye was a sheet of sun-hammered blue that filled half the world. Some days, as they made their slow way up the muddy shore (Gendry wanted no part of any roads, and even Hot Pie and Lommy saw the sense in that), Arya felt as though the lake were calling her. She wanted to leap into those placid blue waters, to feel clean again, to swim and splash and bask in the sun. But she dare not take off her clothes where the others could see, not even to wash them.

.

"If there's people, there's food," Hot Pie said, too loudly. Gendry was always telling him to be more quiet, but it never did any good. "Might be they'd give us some." "Might be they'd kill us too," Gendry said. "Not if we yielded," Hot Pie said hopefully.

.

Hot Pie agreed. "They told Yoren to open the gates, they told him in the king's name. You have to do what they tell you in the king's name. It was that stinky old man's fault. If he'd of yielded, they would have left us be." Gendry frowned. "Knights and lordlings, they take each other captive and pay ransoms, but they don't care if the likes of you yield or not." He turned to Arya. "What else did you see?"

.

Gendry squinted up at the sun. "Evenfall will be the best time to sneak in. I'll go scout come dark.""No, I'll go," Arya said. "You're too noisy."Gendry got that look on his face. "We'll both go." "Arry should go," said Lommy. "He's sneakier than you are."

.

"He's going to die, and the sooner he does it, the better for the rest of us. We should just leave him, like he says. If it was you or me hurt, you know he'd leave us." They scrambled down a steep cut and up the other side, using roots for handholds. "I'm sick of carrying him, and I'm sick of all his talk about yielding too. If he could stand up, I'd knock his teeth in. Lommy's no use to anyone. That crying girl's no use either." "You leave Weasel alone, she's just scared and hungry is all." Arya glanced back, but the girl was not following for once. Hot Pie must have grabbed her, like Gendry had told him. "She's no use," Gendry repeated stubbornly. "Her and Hot Pie and Lommy, they're slowing us down, and they're going to get us killed. You're the only one of the bunch who's good for anything. Even if you are a girl."

.

But Jaqen H'ghar still smiled. His garb was still ragged and filthy, but he had found time to wash and brush his hair. It streamed down across his shoulders, red and white and shiny, and Arya heard the girls giggling to each other in admiration. I should have let the fire have them. Gendry said to, I should have listened. If she hadn't thrown them that axe they'd all be dead. For a moment she was afraid, but they rode past her without a flicker of interest. Only Jaqen H'ghar so much as glanced in her direction, and his eyes passed right over her. He does not know me, she thought. Arry was a fierce little boy with a sword, and I'm just a grey mouse girl with a pail.

.

"Never mind about Ser Lyonel." He drew her aside by the arm. "Last night Hot Pie asked me if I heard you yell Winterfell back at the holdfast, when we were all fighting on the wall." "Everyone was yelling stuff," Arya said defensively. "Hot Pie yelled hot pie. He must have yelled it a hundred times." "It's what you yelled that matters. I told Hot Pie he should clean the wax out of his ears, that all you yelled was Go to hell! If he asks you, you better say the same."

.

"Maybe there won't be a lot of them.""If there's two, that's too many for you and me. You never learned nothing in that village, did you? You try this and Vargo Hoat will cut off your hands and feet, the way he does." Gendry took up the tongs again. "You're afraid."

.

She heard them coming long before she saw them. Hot Pie was breathing heavily, and once he stumbled in the dark, barked his shin, and cursed loud enough to wake half of Harrenhal. Gendry was quieter, but the swords he was carrying rang together as he moved. "Here I am." She stood. "Be quiet or they'll hear you." The boys picked their way toward her over tumbled stones. Gendry was wearing oiled chainmail under his cloak, she saw, and he had his blacksmith's hammer slung across his back. Hot Pie's red round face peered out from under a hood. He had a sack of bread dangling from his right hand and a big wheel of cheese under his left arm. "There's a guard on that postern," said Gendry quietly. "I told you there would be."

.

By midday Hot Pie had begun to complain. His arse was sore, he told them, and the saddle was rubbing him raw inside his legs, and besides he had to get some sleep. "I'm so tired I'm going to fall off the horse." Arya looked at Gendry. "If he falls off, who do you think will find him first, the wolves or the Mummers?" "The wolves," said Gendry. "Better noses."

.

Dusk was settling as they stopped to rest the horses once more and share another meal of bread and cheese. "I'm cold and wet," Hot Pie complained. "We're a long way from Harrenhal now, for sure. We could have us a fire—" "NO!" Arya and Gendry both said, at the exact same instant. Hot Pie quailed a little. Arya gave Gendry a sideways look. He said it with me, like Jon used to do, back in Winterfell. She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers.

.

"What about Hot Pie?" Gendry pointed. Hot Pie was already on the ground, curled up beneath his cloak on a bed of damp leaves and snoring softly. He had a big wedge of cheese in one fist, but it looked as though he had fallen asleep between bites. It was no good arguing, Arya realized; Gendry had the right of it. The Mummers will need to sleep too, she told herself, hoping it was true. She was so weary it was a struggle even to get down from the saddle, but she remembered to hobble her horse before finding a place beneath a beech tree. The ground was hard and damp. She wondered how long it would be before she slept in a bed again, with hot food and a fire to warm her.

.

"Aye, and good for you." The man smiled. "It's not every day I meet a lad with such a tasty name. And what would your friends be called, Mutton Chop and Squab?" Gendry scowled down from his saddle. "Why should I tell you my name? I haven't heard yours."

.

"Gendry," she called, her voice low and urgent. "They have a boat. We could sail the rest of the way up to Riverrun. It would be faster than riding, I think." He looked dubious. "Did you ever sail a boat?" "You put up the sail," she said, "and the wind pushes it." "What if the wind is blowing the wrong way?" "Then there's oars to row." "Against the current?" Gendry frowned. "Wouldn't that be slow? And what if the boat tips over and we fall into the water? It's not our boat anyway, it's the inn's."

.

honestly the fact that gendry is street smart and also happens to be very intelligent on his own, is hardworking and very loyal, has a quick wit, and has a good set of survival skills is why he really works well as arya's partner and most trusted friend. also he's not a pushover and i think that's very important as well.

(i'll be willing to argue that since he was an apprentice under tobho mott, he must know how to read and write some words, or at least know his numbers... not saying that he received the same level of education that arya did; that would be ridiculous, but i believe that he must have at least a little grasp of it)