maestromendez

[fatedroses]

I personally subscribe to the idea that Adventurer Zenos shows his affection and appreciation for his peers in very odd ways (like yoinking the Students' taxes and dealing with their expenses and maybe also paying for some of their expenses but shhh).

[ghost-proofbaby]

foolishness and all

summary: your boyfriend puts your love to the test when his heart is set on a certain unsightly purchase.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

warnings: jar jar binks. not edited, i was laughing too hard.

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: this is the product of a very insane conversation that occurred in the middle of the night last night with @emmaisgonnacry, @lokis-army-77, and @emma-munson. forever sad we can't get the jar jar watch </3 (but at least emma got the darth maul one!) ((thank you for making me laugh until i cried last night, friends.))

“If you buy that thing, I’m breaking up with you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am.” 

“I’m getting the watch.” 

“And I’m getting a new boyfriend.”

You glare at your boyfriend for several beats of tense silence, narrowing your eyes as if it’ll do anything to change his mind. His heart is already set – there’s no stopping what’s about to happen. 

“Edward Munson,” you stress, hand shooting out to hold his wrist, but he’s already whipping it out of your reach, “That thing is hideous. We’re shopping for a nice watch for Steve’s wedding, not that.” 

“This thing has a name, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles toothily, tilting his head tauntingly at you, “And I think it fits the theme perfectly.” 

“In what fucking world?”

You're whispering harshly now, trying to keep from causing a commotion in the middle of the store and garnering any more unwanted attention. The workers had given you strange enough looks when Eddie had first laid eyes on his prize, his little yelp of excitement seemingly startling them. 

The less people who witnessed the atrocity on Eddie’s wrist currently, the better. 

Eddie goes against that wish entirely, holding his wrist high in the air for the entire mall to see at this point, “In my world. He did say it was meant to be open for interpretation-”

“Not like this.”

“And my interpretation is buying this absolutely priceless Jar-Jar Binks watch.” 

The thing looks down at you, almost as if it’s laughing at you just as Eddie was right now. 

Part of you wonders if it’s all a bit – something Eddie noticed set you off, and he’s now making it into an entire catastrophic situation solely for his own enjoyment at your irritation. But part of you also knows that even if it is a bit, Eddie Munson will commit wholeheartedly to it. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s a joke or not. He’ll be leaving this store as the owner of that watch, and the thought mortifies you. 

“Please,” you finally resort to begging, feeling a bit childish as you give a pitiful hop to reach his wrist. It’s useless. He only stretches higher, shirt riding up to expose that strip of pale skin beneath the fabric. Your eyes catch on it momentarily, but you force yourself to not get distracted, “Eddie, baby-”

“Nuh uh,” he’s quick to shake his head, taking a full step back from you, “Nope. That baby shit isn’t working on me this time. I’m buying it. End of discussion.” 

Fine. The sweet talk route didn’t work. That’s fine. 

You had more than one weapon in the arsenal. 

Before he can even think to step any further away, you reach out and hook your finger through one of his belt loops, giving a tug that further exposes the band of his boxers all while forcing him closer to you. 

You’re back on your tip-toes, no longer reaching for the watch, but to let your lips barely graze over his as your whispers, “What if I ask you not to very, very nicely?” 

That has him faltering. Complete hesitation as he takes a deep breath and visible gulp, arm beginning to drop ever so slightly. 

“I would… I’d…” he trails off, clearly losing focus as your lips stay hovering just out of touch, “I’d probably… I-”

“Probably not buy it – right, handsome?” 

And just as quickly as he’d fallen victim to the game you’d started playing, he’s pulled from it. 

He leans back as far as he can with your finger still clinging to his pants, scrunching up his nose, “I see what you’re doing. Not fucking fair. It’s only thirteen dollars, anyway. I bet if Steve was here right now, he’d tell me to get it.” 

“He wouldn’t!” you whisper-yell, giving up and pulling back as well, “It’s his wedding, Eddie. He told us to get something nice to fit in with the black tie dress code,” you can see him ready the argument of interpretation once more, and nip it in the bud, “No amount of interpretation can ever qualify the head of Jar-Jar Binks turned into a watch as something that fits into black tie attire.”

He’s not convinced. Not of the point you’re trying to make – no, you know he agrees with you and is just being a little shit at this point – but of not buying the watch. 

“What if I just bought it?” he barters, “Maybe I don’t wear it to the weddin-”

“There’s no maybes about it. You can’t wear it to the wedding. You’re one of the groomsmen.”

He lifts his other hand just as the one adorning the eyesore finally drops to be eye level once more, “Fine! Fine. I won’t wear it to the wedding, but I’m still getting it.” 

It’s a compromise. Or as close to a compromise as you and Eddie were going to get to right now. 

With his wrist finally lowered, you can finally get a proper look at the thing. It’s Jar-Jar’s head with a band to mimic his skin, no clock in sight until it’s flipped open. The inside might be even worse though. Vivid font curling to spell out Jar-Jar, a light orange background with darker swirls, and the world’s smallest sliver of a screen to display the digital time. 

It absolutely blows your mind that anyone thought it was a good marketing idea. But then again, people like your boyfriend exist. He was the intended audience, not you. 

“It’s not even that cool,” you weakly still try to fight the losing battle, gingerly grabbing for the wrist this time with your free hand. Your finger hasn’t left Eddie’s belt loop, now resting comfortably in it, just growing fond of the closeness rather than weaponizing it against him. 

And maybe as a way of keeping him from running up to the counter to complete the purchase. Maybe. 

“It’s the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he proudly proclaims, right there in the middle of the Radio Shack, never having looked more satisfied with himself, “It can just be a conversational piece. I promise, I won’t break out the secretly evil little shit-”

“What?”

“Unless the occasion actually calls for it.” 

“I’m sorry, can we go back to where you just called Jar-Jar secretly evil?” you ask, more perplexed than concerned at this point.

He was getting it. You were hating it. You had bigger wars to win with the man before you at a later date, surely. 

His grin makes you regret asking, “Oh, you haven’t heard the theory about Jar-Jar being a Sith lord, have you?” 

Your finger slips from his jeans, and your eyes nearly roll out of your head. 

“Go buy that thing. I’m waiting in the car.” 

“Wait, babe, no!” 

“Nope. I’m not listening to this.” 

You turn from Eddie to walk away, making sure he can’t see the corners of your mouth twitching with a smile you’re so desperately fighting, but it’s no use when he grabs onto your elbow to spin you back around. 

“Eddie, I’m not-”

You’re interrupted with his lips on yours, an unexpectedly genuine kiss ensuing. The kind that reminds you why you’d ever deal with someone who wants a Jar-Jar Binks watch, the kind that reminds you why the occasional embarrassment Eddie purposefully puts you through in public is all worth it. 

All the butterflies, all the sweetness, all the tenderness. The way his thumb traces over your skin as his hand stays wrapped around your elbow, the way his other hand comes up to cradle your cheek. You can still taste whatever sour candy he’d bought moments before walking into the store all over his tongue and lips, hiding his last cigarette from hours ago. 

It’s a good enough kiss to forget the entire interaction that had just occurred. 

When he pulls away, you’re a little breathless, all fluttering eyes glazed over as you look up at him, “What was that for?” 

His smile could melt your entire existence. Turn you right into a puddle of all the love you struggle to contain, just for him. 

“Just because,” he shrugs, but then he continues on, “And for putting up with me. Thank you for that.” 

“I don’t put up with you,” you say immediately, and mean it.

Even when he’s being insufferable. Even when he’s still wearing the goddamn Jar-Jar Binks watch. You don’t put up with him – you love him. Foolishness and all. 

Your finger returns to his belt loop, and this time, you tug him in for another kiss. Something short and sweet, something just because. 

“You know,” he mumbles against your lips, arm wrapping around you so you can’t leave him just yet, “They have a Darth Maul one, too…” 

Your hand comes up between the two of you, only a slight struggle, just for you to smack him in the center of his chest, “You can only have one, Munson.”

“We could match!”

“I am not wearing that thing.” 

He throws his head back and cackles, a certain glee only born of being with the one you feel safest with flooding his features. All those wrinkles in the corners of his crinkled eyes, the stretch of his lips that bring on the appearance of dimples you could bury yourself in if given the chance. A boy made up of stardust and felicity. Your boy made up of every good thing that could have ever existed in this lifetime. 

You’d rather bicker over the useless things with him a hundred times over than ever live a life without him. 

“It’s fine,” he finally sighs dramatically, “I’ll just wear the Jar-Jar Binks watch to our wedding one day.”

Our wedding one day. 

Your heart just about explodes, and the only thing you can do to not choke up is smack him even harder. 

Our wedding. 

It has a nice ring to it. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you tell him instead.

There’ll be plenty of other moments to talk about that. Now, when he still wears the ugliest watch you’ve ever laid eyes on, is not the time. 

“Gotta catch me first,” he teases as he slowly backs away, a twinkle in his eyes that makes you question if he knows how you’d secretly felt about that joke. That makes you question if he and Steve Harrington had really only been shopping for Steve’s rings for the last year. 

He doesn’t even run to the counter, knowing that you won’t be chasing him. You’re content to stay back and wait. You’ll always wait on him, really.

Even if it meant waiting for the day he wore that goddamn watch on your wedding day, because at the end of it all, you’d probably let him. You’d even wear the Darth Maul watch to match if he insisted. 

You’d let him wear whatever he wants, and you’d wear whatever he insists upon, because at the end of the day, it wouldn’t matter – it’d be enough to simply marry the dork that just tripped on his way up on the counter while giggling over a watch on his wrist, and know that he’s yours, forever.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo @findmeincorneliastreet

join my taglist!

[tiredsmashbros]

SMG34: LIPBITE COMIC WIP UPDATE

oh boy... i know a bunch of folks are hyped for this comic... and boy oh boy are ya'll's prayers going to be heard... kind of... butt for the celebration milestone, and granted majority are from this comic, i thought it was best to give EVERYTHING that i have currently.

starting off STRONG with what you freaks most want: the completed pages. andddd yep that's it that all that i have done LMAO. i've been fixated on my own smg4 oc: tsb, and during the end of my summer was unfortunately fucked over by some personal issues that fortunately got resolved last minute good grief the anxiety prevented me from drawing the gays sigh... aNYWAYS LINEART WIPS!!!!

here are linearts i have completed / in the progress of!! want to aim like i did in the past by finishing up lineart first, and then speed through with color + minor rendering. the reason i have a few colored is to test out what it would look polished and my god... i have improved A LOT. THESE GAY PEOPLE GIVE POWER I AM NOT KIDDING BELIEVE ME IM NOT CRAY- anyways onto wip pages!

jumpscare: tsb stickman sketches. oh yeah. this is how i sketch and i blame sensei eiichiro oda /j. and in case anyone is unable to understand it {i don't blame u LMAO}, smg4 wakes up from the dream and is startled to see mario by his bed. they have a short convo before mario leaves, and we get a job to smg4 in the bathroom trying to put up a brave face. until the moment he leaves he's stunned due to seeing smg3 at his front door. will i elaborate more on specifics or unwritten dialogue? NOPE! gotta keep secrets to make it even more enjoyable at the end!!

currently at 13 sketched pages total, but this is probably gonna be reaching towards 20-ish pages, surpassing part two, but it will depend on how i come up with how to end it. additionally to confirm there will be a PART FOUR / chapter 3, to end this story. my goal is to have it done before i finish my senior year, or at least during the summer after i graduate bc good lord who knows whats gonna happen.

and lastly, before i end this crazy update, SCRAPPED PAGESSS!!!!!

CONTENT WARNING : NSFW SKETCHES !!!! PLEASE LOOK AWAY IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF!!!

oh boy... dont draw comics while sleep-deprived at 6am... idek what i was even aiming with this ngl other than just for fun, but i scrapped it due to not being what i had in mind for the story. if it doesn't serve a purpose or narrative, its bye bye YEAH BYE BYE THIS IS THE CLOSEST NSFW UR GONNA GET FROM ME HAHAHAHAHA- i say that despite writing a nsfw jojo wattpad smh im only confident doing it in words good lord. btw not watermarking these bc i gen don't care since they're legit scrapped {left top part was kept and completed} so idk what to do with these. im just throwing it and walkin away

now to end with this update, i can hear your question, "when will this be done?" and to answer that question: i'm not entirely sure due to my heavy focus on my smg4 oc: tsb, but my best chance is postponing my oc lore a bit and complete this before november UOIYGJDSIUHJKDWSXYUGHJKCS but we shall have too see...

if you want to join the ping list comment on this post LMAO [click]

ignore below if you're not from the tsb birthday partydddjdhdhdjd

...

...

...

thurs: smg34 is canon in the tsb universe / au. though most of their encounters are platonic or best-friendy-way, they eventually express their feelings to one another and start dating 3/4’s way of the tsb storyline arc. tsb is a supporter of his friend's relationship and admires and takes inspiration from their relationship heavily to input his future love life. yearning to be in a similar position... to learn what is to really love someone... or what it's truly like to be loved...

[eternaldecisions]

alexa play . . . hands on me by Ariana Grande .ᐟ.ᐟ

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ summary: You and Matthew, never liked each other, principally after an incident at a party, and when you found out your childhood bestfriend was kissing the person you hated the most, making intrusive thoughts take care of your body.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ warnings: Smut, rough sex, fem!receiving, degradation kink, spitting, enemies trope!! || ⸝⸝ author’s note: this is for @fawnchives !

The dazzling LED lights dominate your sight, enveloping your vision as you walk thru the party your best friend has just kicked off.

several couples getting drunk and making out in the corners, girls getting loose on the dance floor by the song “Hands on me” by Ariana Grande, why not join on the dance floor?

Making your way to the dance floor, excusing yourself to pass thru multiple people, the party was definitely crowded.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you get closer to the destination, put everything good in your mind disappears when you bump in the person you wanted to see the least.

Matthew Sturniolo.

You and him never liked each other, and had a big rivalry since high school, well firstly he was always a bitch to you, secondly you couldn’t stand seeing his attractive face structure everywhere.

The red cup filled with beer, spilled on his shirt, well lucky him it was a black shirt, if it was a white one it would be worse.

Im met with the pair of his blue eyes staring at me deadly, it scared you at the same time, but why be scared at a two faced loser?

“You never watch where you walk don’t you?” His gaze meet your body, taking a long up and down look, observing every detail of the outfit you had picked.

“Why are you such a asshole?” You comment, your gaze meeting his a light chuckle leaving his mouth.

“You owe me a new shirt, y’know?”

“Too bad, in your dreams maybe it happens.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes staring to walk away, he watches your figure disappearing into the crowded dance floor.

03:46AM

Multiple songs you liked were on and that made the party enjoyable, you smile with your friend Lizzie as you walk to a couch together refilling both of your cups, sounds of giggles escaping your lips as you two were enveloped in talking shit about people you didn’t like.

“Y’know, I hate Matth-“ you cut off yourself as you look to a corner right in your front, but still a bit far away, your eyes met the tall figure of Matthew as he basically as sucking the neck of your childhood bestfriend, Mila.

A strong grip on the cup is planted by the strength your hands make, Mila knew you hated him but she didn’t help it and offer herself to the guy you despised.

“That two faced cunt.” You mumble, Lizzie looking at you confused, you land your cup on the nearest table, beginning to walk outside for some fresh air.

Sitting on the crosswalk, as the wind hits your face you look to the street cars passing by, but one car calls out your attention.

Matthew’s Lamborghini Urus, parked the closest to you, a wicked grin forms in your face as your mind forms, why not ruin his car?

There was a lot of possibilities to ruin it, but the easiest was keying his car.

You suddenly remember you have needle in your shirt, after a problem had happened with your pink jersey, removing carefully the sharp object, standing up and walking up close to the driver’s passenger part, kneeling down, you started keying his car, damaging the shiny black painting, a white long line in his passenger door.

You smile to yourself, nothing better that knowing how man act when their precious car is ruined, and Matt’s car being ruined made you happy, he had what he deserved.

As you stand up once again, planting the clothe needle again in your jersey turning around, you meet face to face with Matthew.

Oh fuck.

In your mind you thought this would work because if you damaged and you disappeared after, he wouldn’t know it was you, maybe he could have an idea, but still.

His gaze turns to a anger look as he looks at you, he had been watching you all the time, and this wasn’t good, he crossed his arms against his chest, his muscles flexing as his voice starts echoing thru your ears, shivers being sent down your spine.

“You think you’re that clever don’t you?” He says, before you could reply, he shuts you off immediately by speaking again.

“Not only you bump into me with your clumsiness, spilling your beer on my shirt that now, you had to ruin my fucking car.” Every word that he spit out of his mouth he got even closer to you.

“Well maybe I have my reasons to key your car.”

“Are you mad that Mila was kissing me?” The anger in his voice was still visible, but he couldn’t help it and let a chuckle escape his mouth as a smirk is on his lips.

“Yeah, maybe I am because she was my bestfriend, and she knows damn well that I hate you!” You exclaim, you cross your arms just like he had, as you interlock eyes with him.

“That doesn’t give you any stupid fucking reason to key my car.” You open your mouth to comment, but before, a hand creeps up on your waist turning you around forcedly guiding you to the passengers side.

“Let me go!” You utter, as you try to remove his hand off you, but his grip was too strong.

“Why don’t you shut up that dirty fucking mouth of yours, hm?” He whispers in your ear as you can feel the smirk he has on his face, opening the door for you, you enter on the car, sitting and remaining silent for the rest of the ride, wherever he was taking you.

The whole car ride was silent, after he drove it to a luxury neighborhood, you knew he was driving to his house, his jaw was clenched most of the time and he was going 305 km/h, it was too fast to your liking.

As he parked his car, opening the electronic garage, he quickly left his side, going the other way to open yours, he grabbed you by the wrist making you gasp at the sudden act.

“You’re too mad just for a little damage in your car, I was having fun at the party.” You lie thru gritted teeth, for a moment it was but the second Matt was there, it had ruin everything.

“You’re a damn brat, maybe we can put you in your place isn’t it?” He states, his jaw still hardly clenched, his side profile being heavenly, like a sorta of Greek God had structured it.

You roll your eye as he guides you thru the big mansion he owned, every part of the place with different paintings and different furniture.

As you both go upstairs, he leads you to his room, the same time you step your feet inside, he is locking the door and pinning you against the wall, your faces being inches close.

“Now tell me hm? You wanted to be Mila didn’t you.” His strong cologne filled your nostrils, the same way your sweet scent filled his.

His hands creep up to your inner thigh, a sudden gasp leaving your mouth as you remain silent.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Matt utters, his soft lips attacking your neck, leaving wet kisses and marks, as his right hand kept going even more up arriving close to your pink laced panties.

His hand went fast to your core, how fast it was taken of there, as he picks you up in bridal style, positioning myself in his bed, as he tops me.

He pulls away my pink jersey throwing somewhere across his room, if someone ever told me i would be getting naked with the guy I hated, i would probably slapped me across the face.

His large hands find way to my denim skirt yanking it off, now i’m only left in my match bra and panties, how nice.

“You don’t need to lie, you’ve always wanted this as much as I did.” He commented ripping off my bra, my mouth wide how easily he had the strength to rip off the fabric.

“You owe me a new bra, idiot.”

He chuckles, as he pushes you close to him, his face leaning close to your stomach as he plants kisses along the way.

He gets each time closer to your core, making you clench around nothing, he pulls your panties to the side, with no warning, his tongue is deep down in my pussy, as a long moan leaves my lips.

I can feel the stupid smirk as he eats me out, his hands gripping my thighs to not let me move, he pulls leans up again, getting close to my face once again, smashing his lips against mine in a heavy roughy kiss, making me taste my juices in his tongue.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart.” The nickname made me wetter more then I was, i obey, sticking my tongue out, as he yanks his two fingers into, and i instinctively suck on them, dripping them with my saliva.

A wicked grin is planted on his face as the two digits are on my core, rubbing my puffy clit, as my mouth is open, soft moans leaving it which was music to his ears.

“Feels good getting pleasure by your enemy doesn’t it.” He expresses as his hands keep rubbing your clit faster.

“i still fucking hate you.” You spit it out, a loud moan leaving your mouth right after.

“The way your hips buck for more, it says otherwise doll.”

The please accumulated in your body leaves as he takes off the two fingers that were in your clit to his mouth, you watch him suck on it, tasting yourself once again.

Suddenly, his hands are removing his belt and his baggy jeans, seeing him in his Calvin Klein boxers, his hard cock wanting to be more than released.

Pulling his underwear down his dick hitting his stomach, you never had an idea he was that long, you can be a little thing but you like that long.

He leans down to your core, a full spit landing on it making you wince, your juices and his spit now combined.

He strokes himself a few times before slamming into you, a groan leaving his mouth as you moan in synchronization with him.

My head is thrown back, as he doesn’t give me time to adjust fully starting to thrust in and out of me, he wasn’t just some couple of inches, he had enough inches to bruise my cervix and leave me hanging for more.

“You liked being fuck like a slut don’t you?” He chuckles, keeping thrusting, my mind couldn’t even form words, my back arching for more, his dick had the perfect size to hit my g-sport.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes, fuck.. I love it.” You moan our, your head throw back in his pillows, his hands finding way to smack your ass, the real meaning of pain and pleasure.

He smirks, as he gets closer to my face pulling me in a rough kiss, my moans being muffled by it, his thrusts were each time more rough then the before, he wasn’t like other guy that would fuck a girl just to cum inside her and leave, oh he was for sure waiting to see your face knowing he was the one giving you all the pleasure.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna.” Before you could finish your sentence you cum all around his dick making a mess in the sheets below.

“Making a mess on my dick like the fucking slut you are.”

He pulls out, stroking his dick a few times before painting your lower and upper body with his cum, before collapsing on top of you.

Sweaty beads were formed during the act, your panty and heavy breaths in sync together, as you catch your breath all you could hear was his deep voice echoing thru your ears.

“Y’know, instead of watching me suck your best friends neck, if you ever need my hands on you, don’t be scared to ask, it is better then keying my car for that attention.”

[musingsofahufflepuff]

Just a Glimpse of Us

ex!Mattheo Riddle x gn!reader, Theodore Nott x gn!reader; angst

summary: after a particularly rough break up with mattheo, theodore is there to pick up the pieces. he’s the perfect boyfriend in theory, so why do you wish it was your ex instead?

a/n: while the reader is currently dating theo, this isn’t really about him (sorry bby ily). our focus today is matt. he’s a bit of a dick for the majority and says a couple of insensitive things. the happy ending won, so here it is, happy valentine’s day ♡

Only 2 weeks after your relationship ending fight with Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott asked you out. You said yes.

It had taken you a week longer than it had for Mattheo.

You weren’t entirely sure why you had said yes. The pessimist in you said it was only because you were hurt. The optimist in you meekly thought different.

Theodore was attractive and surprisingly gentle with you. In the days following the break up, he frequently sought you out in the nooks of the castle you started to escape to. The times when you couldn’t keep yourself together, he held you as you broke down in tears and didn’t let go until the pain subsided. His chest was warm and sturdy and safe. The scent of smoke lingered on him hauntingly similar to the way it hung to Mattheo, permeating his clothes and your soul.

He was there by your side when you stumbled on a Ravenclaw girl practically chewing Mattheo’s face off out in the hall in front of god and everyone, 3 days post breakup. Part of you knew he wanted you to see.

A piece of you died that day.

The following weekend party ended with you in Theodore’s bed. Maybe you wanted Matt to walk in his dorm and see you with one of his best friends. Maybe you wanted him to feel the same festering wound you had been living with since he had stormed out of your life.

He never did come back that night.

A week after Mattheo broke your heart a second time, Theodore found you sitting in the astronomy tower, knees to your chest, staring at the view of the valley. He sat next to you, arm easing its way across your shoulders as you leaned into him. He had seemed nervous, so unlike his usual stoic and relaxed demeanor.

“Would you want to maybe go to Hogsmeade with me tesorino?”

The pessimist in you was right.

♡ ♡ ♡

That was a month ago. A month of dating Theodore Nott. You were less sad at least. Or maybe you were just more numb.

Despite sitting at the Slytherin table with Theodore and your friends, you weren’t really present. You were vaguely aware of his hand resting on your side and the unintelligible chattering filling in the background noise of aimless thoughts. Your eyes were facing the rest of the Great Hall, but you were looking through it. You used to sit here with all the same people but Mattheo always used to be here too. You hadn’t seen him during meals or class lately. He would sling his arm around your waist during meals like this. Theodore’s touch burns.

Before your mind can drift off too far as to what he could possibly be up to recently, the doors to the great hall open with a thud.

It takes a few blinks to get your eyes to focus back and when they do, you’re greeted to a bored looking Mattheo, arm loosely resting on—what appears to be a Hufflepuff—girl’s shoulder.

Theodore’s grip on you tightens and a kiss is pressed to your temple. Matt’s eyes rake over to where you’re sat and you can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking. As quickly as he looked your way, he directs his attention elsewhere.

“You okay tesorino? You got tense,” Theodore speaks softly above your ear.

With an exhale you smile up at him, “I’m okay Teddy.” He’s looking at you like you placed the moon in the sky for his enjoyment and it reminds you of brown eyes that had once looked at you the same way.

Pushing the thought from your mind, you press a firm kiss on his lips- searching for butterflies or fireworks or something when he returns the motion.

You find none.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Nott? Really sweetheart? You can do better than that.”

Mattheo’s voice stabs through you, making you involuntarily jerk to a halt. It had been so long since you’d heard his voice. You try to regain your breath before turning to face him. He’s standing in the middle of the hall, cocky smile on his face. You had forgotten how arrogant he could be, used to his sweet smiles and soft eyes reserved only for you. You desperately longed for it. That Matt was long gone, just a whisper you were still hopelessly trying to grasp onto.

He raises an eyebrow when you make no attempt to respond, seemingly expecting a snarky remark. He takes a couple strides toward you. He baits you again, “I guess I can see why you hang around him, he follows you around like a pathetic dog.” You bite.

“At least I’m not a manwhore who jumps in the first skirt offered to him,” the calm in your tone surprises you, your entire soul feels like it could shatter any moment. “What do you want Riddle?”

Something flashes across Matt’s face for the briefest of moments. So subtle only you would have noticed it.

Before he can respond Theodore is by your side, “why don’t you say that shit to my face next time.”

“And here’s the guard dog now. Have to say, didn’t expect my best mate to lap up my sloppy seconds.”

Tears sting in your eyes at his unexpected cruelty. Then the sound of a fist cracking bone is making you jump. You cover your mouth with your hands as blood starts pouring out of Mattheo’s nose. A crowd has started to form around the three of you and you’re grabbing Theodore’s arm that’s getting ready to take another swing.

Matt’s face is hard to read. He doesn’t immediately react to his apparently broken nose nor the blood staining his uniform. Instead his eyes are locked on you.

You force your voice to work, “c’mon Teddy, it’s not worth it.”

He snaps his head towards you in bewilderment. “Tesorino you heard what he just said about you, right?” Your heart aches at his concern only for you, your gaze shifting to meet Mattheo. The same aching heart reminds you he would have done the same for you once upon a time.

Those pretty brown eyes convince you that you don’t want to see his face anymore beaten than it already was.

“Please Teddy, let’s just go.” You look up at Theodore’s face and tug on his arm.

He relaxes his stance and gives you a nod, letting you lead him away. You do your best to not look back at Mattheo.

However you can’t help the quick glance over your shoulder; seeing Matt looking at you, ironically, like a kicked puppy.

You cry yourself to sleep that night, locked in Theodore’s suffocating embrace.

♡ ♡ ♡

Monday night finds you back in the astronomy tower, cigarette in your fingers. You had swiped it from Theodore’s stash before classes this morning. It wasn’t the same brand Matt used. Knowing Nott, it was probably higher quality.

You turn the stick in your hand, blinking back tears. Thoughts of your time up here with Matt swirl around your head, making it hard to breathe.

There at the top of the tower surrounded by the cool night, you break.

It happens all at once. No build up, just a shatter. Sobs rack through your body and an animalistic cry of pure pain and despair forces its way out of you.

♡ ♡ ♡

Mattheo pushes himself off the leather couch he sat on in the common room. Enzo looks up at him with furrowed eyebrows. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and flashes it at the boy, “need a smoke, wanna come with?”

He gets a small head shake no in response before he turns to leave the dungeons.

The walk up to the astronomy tower is familiar and would be comforting in different circumstances. As he starts climbing up the stairs he hears broken sobs echo through the tower. He hesitates thinking it might be best to leave the person alone, but his concern wins out and he treks onward. To say he’s shocked when he sees it’s you is an understatement. Heart rate picking up at the thought of you being hurt, he makes his way over.

At the sound of his footsteps, in between sobs you choke out, “please leave Theo, I want to be alone.”

“I’m not Theo, sorry to disappoint,” the words are slightly joking but his tone is gentle.

You lift your head up to look at him, eyes red and tear tracks staining your cheeks. His heart aches. He settles himself down next to you, giving you space.

You sit together in silence for a few moments, his mere presence wrapping itself around you like a childhood blanket, tattered and long lost. You feel some semblance of peace for the first time in months.

“I’m sorry,” he ducks his head down, shame overtaking him. “You didn’t deserve the way I treated you.”

He tilts his head to look at you, eyebrows knitting together. He almost looks like he could cry. “You’re not my sloppy seconds and Theo isn’t a dog, I just-“ he goes back to avoiding your eyes and blinks a couple times, a tear rolling down his cheek. You reach out and gently wipe it away with your thumb. It has the unintended consequence of making more tears start to fall.

“I was angry and hurt and I guess the only way I know how to express that is by hurting everyone around me.” Your soul shouts at you to reach out for him, but you hold back.

“I think about you all the time,” he’s curled in on himself in the way you’ve only ever seen him do when he talks about his home life. “I miss you so much.”

His eyes squeeze shut in an attempt to stop crying, fingers digging into his biceps. You know him too well, can read his actions like you were reading his mind.

You pull him into your arms.

It’s easy to tell you made the right decision when he instantly relaxes in your embrace, instinctively pushing his head against your chest like he had done so many times before. His voice comes out quieter when he says, “I don’t expect you to forgive me, lord knows I wouldn’t.”

A small smile works its way onto your face as you speak to him for the first time since the fight in the hallway, “you’ve always been the type to hold a grudge. And I know you’d never admit it, but it’s because you care.”

“I’m sorry for kissing that girl, I don’t even know her name. I thought it would fill the hole in me, but it didn’t. Then I saw you with Theo at the party and—“ his voice cracks. You tighten your grip, a hand coming up to run through his curls.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, “I told Theo that I couldn’t keep seeing him today. I felt like I was using him, cause he’s not you.”

Matt pulls himself out of your embrace to cup your face in his hands, dark eyes swimming with unshed tears and that gentle look he used to give you. The one where you could see the longing, the raw need for your touch and love and approval and very essence of your being. It was vulnerable and gave away just how deeply sorry he was for hurting you.

You were drawn to him as you had always been, a planet orbiting a sun that gave off such warmth and fiery passion but could also burn magnitudes of pain that was near incomprehensible.

“I can’t fix the damage I’ve done, but I want to spend my life making it up to you. And I’ll do everything in my power to make amends with Theo. Please, let me be part of your life again.”

“Matty, I want to, but I don’t want to feel like that again. It was hell,” your voice catches on the last part, a stray tear escaping. Gentle lips are pressed on your cheek where the tear was.

“I will never make you feel that way again. And I give you full permission to use an unforgivable if I don’t keep my promise. Fuck, I’ll take an unbreakable vow if that’s what you want, love.”

You can’t hold back anymore, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that rivals the most beautiful sunsets, warmth rushing over you. This is what home feels like.

[lokideservesahug]

A Taste Of Victory

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing: Jenson Button x reader (implied), Mark Webber x reader (implied).

Warnings: Jenson is a bit of a dick to reporters, sexism,

Notes: This isn't even the big peice of writing that started all of this but that is coming soon... And the photos may not be aesthetic but they sure as anything are time accurate (even using photos from the specific days). I tried to make sure of it (as well as the dates) to give you good visuals so I hope at least someone appreciates it. Also I tried a new header format. Please tell me your thoughts

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N, the newest 2009 rookie who's also...a woman? The media are desperate to pick her apart and see how well she'll do so let's have a look:

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Y/L/N residence, 7th September 2008

You sit back and sip happily on your coke bottle. Any minute now. Any minute and your phone will be blowing up. Or at least that's what Frank had told you (you still can't get over the fact that THE Frank Williams insists that you call him that, or that you'll be working for him next year). You focus back on the image on your screen,

Lewis Hamilton in his McLaren. Of course a favourite to win this season especially after his incredible performances even from his rookie season. And despite trying to clear your mind of all bias for next year, you can't help but wish that he might win. He seems like a nice guy and it's a better him than some of the others. As Hamilton reaches the ever famous, ever gorgeous Eau Rouge, the image changes, the camera focuses on the white, green and red Honda of Jenson Button. He swerves slightly, performing a certainly showy move especially for just FP2.

Despite the numbers not being as much as Hamilton supporters, some F1 fans are putting their money on Button winning the championship instead. You scoff at the thought alone. Goodness knows Formula 1 doesn't need another cocky playboy as the world champion and goodness knows Jenson Button appears to be exactly that. Gosh why couldn't a more sensible seeming driver win say Mark webber or even Fernando Alonso again. You internally scold yourself, these men will be your co workers in only a matter of months. Just the thought makes you feel a matter of emotions; which you are quickly pulled out of as the commentators voice grows louder. You watch as Fernando Alonso puts in a particularly fast lap and the more you think, you can't help but feel almost a bit...nervous.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Albert Park paddock, 27th March 2009

You hold your head up high as you enter the paddock. Bright flashes of cameras shine in your peripheral but you try your hardest to just keep your head down and focus on getting to the Williams hospitality. You glance up, taking in the sights surrounding you. The bright Australian sun paints the paddock? that you've been so long awaiting, in such a light, that you finally feel a sense if fulfilment- and you're not even in the car yet.

Too entranced by the sights around you, you fail to notice the person just in front of you. You're met with the sight of a crisp yet untucked shirt. You panick, instantly going to apologise when you meet the eyes of the person you bumped into. "Woah, careful there." Jenson Button. Oh gosh. "Someone needs to slow down." He laughs and you assume his enjoyment is coming from your misfortune. Now you'd never thought you were the type to become speechless but as you're finally met with the first driver on your official Formula 1 debut, you can't help but panick even more, squeak out an apology and speed walk towards Williams.

Gosh, you wanted today to be perfect and here you are crashing into people already. What a clumsy fool you must look like. You groan as you realise what you've done.

Now, like any unfamiliar place, you find that it was pretty easy to get yourself lost, even in place with such an easy concept (curse Melbourne event planners for trying to make too much go on at once and make it confusing). Most people also don't expect to get recognised in an unfamiliar place even if it's where you work (and your hiring was widely broadcast).

"Hey, are you alright?" You turn to look at the Autralian man whose voice, up until now, you'd only heard through a screen. You meet the eyes of Mark Webber and smile shyly. "Hi, sorry to be a bother but do you know how to get to the Williams hospitality." He just gives you a small grin, clearly not seeing your lack of knowledge as incompetence or anything like that "Of course, follow me and welcome to the paddock by the way." And as Mark leads you away, you can't help hut feel glad you'll be seeing more of him (and not just for how polite and kind he is).

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Post race interviews, 29th March 2009

After you step down from the podium, and your team has dispersed (after all congratulating you, some even with tears in their eyes). You walk away to a quieter part of the paddock to gather your thoughts. You go behind the tows of hospitalities only to find Mark Webber hunched over. You aobseve him, he's sporting a serious, disappointed and almost worried looking expression as he looks out into the distance. You walk up to him and place a soft hand on his shoulder in an attempt to gently coax him out of his thoughts and to try and offer some comfort

Without a word, he turns to look at you and his shoulders raise slightly. You give him a small smile and sit down next to him. You both sit next to each other in silence, sharing a comforting moment, silently offering support and understanding to one and other.

The air shifts (and you try to not get to excited at the prospect that your presence alone may have somewhat comforted him). The air shifts, this time it isn't tainted by negative emotions but rather fatigue and acoplmisent on your part. The both of you probably look like a true sight, disheveled, tired and sweaty, however there's a warmth between you both as you share a brief moment of tranquility amongst the chaos.

Someone calls your name and the moment is broken. You nod to Mark who gives you a small smile back and a short "Well done for today." As you smile at him and walk off to go to interviews.

You pass some fans, signing their Williams caps and exchanging excited "Well done!" And "Thank you." Pleasantries. You revel in the post win glow. It's one thing to win in your rookie season, but to win your first race? Now that's just unheard of. You hurriedly sit down in the assigned seat for you and wait for the other few straglers to arrive. You look down, placing your hands on your lap in an attempt to thwart the nerves threatening to bubble.

Brawn driver, Rubens Barrichello is the second to arrive followed not long after by Jenson Button. Rubens gives you an easy smile and yet another congratulations. You feel incredibly fortunate to have you welcomed so quickly and easily by him over the past few days of testing. You return his smile with one of your own and a small wave.

When Jenson finally sits down, an FiA representative gives the 3 of you a short introduction and then begins. Quite a few people had warned you before you entered this room that many people would want to speak to you, but you didn't expect such an onslaught.

A short, bald man stands up and adresses you. "So Miss Y/L/N, you just managed to win your debut race, which is an incredible feat but how much of it do you think is down to the car." You try not to take offence to the question, it was a pretty basic question afterall (even if it was worded a bit harshly.) You let out a small laugh. "I think it's a joint effort really. The car was looking really good this weekend but I also have a history of running fairly well at this track." The reporter nods his head and continues. "So do you think this victory will encourage other women to become involved in F1?" You nod excitedly at him. "Oh I hope so. I hope it's encouragement to all women out there that weren't sure if they could." The reported thanks you and sits down.

A few more reporters ask questions. 90% of which are adressesdfor you and a few others adresses to the men beside you (mainly to Rubens and Jenson about Braen and its last minute establishment).

This time, a slightly more lean, dark haired reporter speaks up, once again directing his questions towards you. "Y/N, how did your fellow drivers perceive your and your entrance into F1?" You nearly furrow your brows at the biazzre question (Well it's possibly bizzare that it's adressed to you). "I uh don't know. Why don't you ask them." You gesture to the drivers either side of you as the reporter repeats his question to the other pilots. "Gentlemen, your thoughts on the newest addition to the paddock?" Rubens gives you an encouraging pat on the shoulder mid sentence "She's obviously fast and I think she's managed to impress us all." The reporter nods to Jenson; and despite your belief that he's he's too cocky for his own good, you can't help but feel a bit excited and a bit anxious to hear his repsonse. "Her lap times were phenomenal during the race." You smile at his words, maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought. However, he continues "I think my only criticism I have of her is that she seems to smile less than Kimi." The reporter smirks as you lower your eyeline slighty. "Yeah and she's much easier on the eyes than Kimi." The room erupts into low laughs as you feel shame and embarrassment pool in your gut.

The reporters continue to ask a few questions that you don't pay too much attention to as you nearly get complety lost in your thoughts. One asks Jenson if he thinks you have the potential for the championship. He laughs as he awnsers "There's no denying that she's fast. But she's in a Williams, she's not going to win the championship." You bite your tongue at Jenson's words and what you think is a jab at you (not realising the true intention if insulting his old team).

Yet another reporter asks you a familiar question along the lines if how exactly you think you managed to win. Fed up being in a room with a bunch of old men, trying to pick you apart and insult you with the same few questions just worded differently, your resolve finally snaps.

"Well not that anyone is caring to ask, but I've done this track a million times over. I've practised again and again and again to get my performance perfect yet no one is congratulating me on how well I went around that track. Brawn were amazing today and I'm sure they will be in the future as well but please dont let that take away from what I've done today." You shuffle back in your chair slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the stares but stay strong, unbreaking (and not noticing the stare of admiration coming from the British driver to your left and never knowing the love filled look of another Australian pilot, watching on a screen not far away).

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Top Gear Studio, May 2009

You listen anxiously as Jeremy Clarkson introduces you. Yes, Jeremy Clarkson. As he shouts your name, the camera pans to you and you walk forward, shaking Jeremy's hand and sitting down in the green, faux leather sofa.

"Now obviously I want to ask the obvious..." He speaks over the crowd's quietening bustle and you expect the next question to be one you've hears bwfore. About your gender, you- "What on Earth have you done to that Williams to make it so good?" You laugh, the familiar humour of the Top Gear host you've only ever seen on a screen putting you at ease.

"Well I don't know but maybe its because I'm far more polite to the car than other drivers." Jeremy smiles at your words and invites you into light conversation about you finally being viewed as a serious title contender. The two of you continue until you hit more general off-track talk "So, how much do you train and have you managed to find enough time to see your friends and family. Because some people have such an odd view on things like that." You let out a dramatic sigh. "Gosh they're making me train so much. More than just once a day and there are so many regimes that I can't keep track of anymore. But family wise, well I spend far less time with them than I do do training, I can tell you that much." The audience laughs which encourages you to continue. "I see my friends and family in-between weekends when I can and sometimes they'll even come to races. But gosh. I feel awful saying this." Jeremy leans forward slightly "No, go on..." Your smile becomes a bit embarrassed as your cheeks warm. "Well even on free weekends, with how crowded the paddock can be, I'll come home and just want to be alone." Jetemy shakes his head. "Well that makes sense. But you're in a very crowded space all weekend, does that mean that you've you've asked out by a lot of guys throughout the season so far?" Your eyes widen widen the insinuation. At your lack of instant response, Jeremy clarifies, "Come on! Gorgeous girl such as yourself in such a male dominated sport, I bet loads of men and probably even some drivers too have asked you out." You quickly deny the claims and the two of you move on to your lap times in their old car but you don't miss the way your mind flashed with the image of a certain dark haired Red Bull driver as Jeremy asked his previous question.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

>To be aired 28 June<

You huff out a low sigh. If you overthink today anymore, you think you might be sick. Your phone pings. You know you shouldn't have it on you but it has helped to keep you entertained as you wait. You look down and see a text from Mark. His text, wishing you good luck makes you smile and you shoot him a small thanks and silence your phone as you hear footsteps behind you.

"Are you ready?" You turn you head and nod to your future teammate as Michael Schumacher steps forward. "Question is, are you old man?" Your words make him smile and your nerves ease slightly. "I don't think I can ever be ready for something like this. But the more important thing is you." He places a caring hand on your shoulder.

If you told your child self, or heck even yourself a year ago that you're friends and future teammates with 7-time world Champion Michael Schumacher, you think you'd have laughed at yourself until tears streamed down your face. But in recent months and more specifically recent weeks, the two of you have been getting much closer. Michael offering you advice, you offering great support on current drivers habits firsthand as a warning for next season. And you even met Michael's family a month or so ago; them nearly adopting you into their clan.

A woman with headset approaches you both and taps you on the shoulder, "A minute to go." She gives you a small thumbs up and walks away, mumbling into her headset. You give her an uncertain nod as Michael pats your shoulder again. "Go out and show them what you've got kid and I'll see you out there." You give him a nervous smile and as you hear a distant shout of your name, you pull yourself together and pull your face into an excited expression, ready for the reaction to your announcement and overjoyed to have a front row seat to people's reactions to your teammate.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You sit alone in a booth of a bustling club. Loud music nearly deafening but you'd take it any day over the continuous commentary you heard at track. You don't know how many time you can hear "It looks like the title fight is over. Y/L/N's engine is overheating and she's slowing down. It looks like Jenson Button may be champion." Without feeling sick especially when it's directly followed by your voice on the team radio, voice cracking during an apology as your mechanics tell me to back off to cool the engine.

You think of the image of Jenson's Brawn overtaking you and pulling futher into the distance; the sight of not one but two Red Bulls overtaking to fight a battle that should be yours. A voice cuts through your thoughts. You look up, meeting the eyes of the person speaking. "Are you alright?" You're surprised that Jenson came to speak to you, especially after his victory. Gosh in your vulnerable state, you even think that he might not be too bad. How silly of you. You give him a gentle nod (clearly not enough to convince him). He gestures towards the seat next to you "Is it alright if I sit here?" You nod, not Trusting your voice in this moment. "Well-" "You w-" You finally crack a smile as you speak at the same moment. He gestures to you "Sorry, you go." You smile at him. "Well done Jenson you gave a great drive this season." You expect him to smirk, to revel in your compliments but instead he just gives you a soft smile and a shake of his head. "Don't be silly. That championship would be yours if Williams ever learnt how to build cars properly. But thank you." You look down at his words, all of your emotions finally coming to the forefront. "Hey, you look like you need to be cheered up. You don't need to feel like this going into next season..." He passes and his brows furrow. You look up at Jenson who is now standing and for the first time all year, allow yourself to admire him. The way that his still slightly hair drops as some strands stick to his forehead. "You-" He furrows his brows again and then laughs freely. "Oh yeah, you're taking my job. Well Miss Y/L/N, he grabs your hand and pulls you up from your seat, Elliciting a small noise from you. "Then we need to dance to celebrate and to cheer you up." You just shake your head and follow him, finally smiling as you follow his foolish adrenaline (and probably slightly alcohol-fueled) giggly nature; placing down your phone and missing the texts.

Mark Webber: Hey Well done on today and I'm sorry what happened. Hoping to speak to you at some point later...

M.S: Hey Hase, well done on today, you drove so well I hope you know that. Corinna and I wanted to invite you to our...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[froznwater]

post WT Alenaoh drabble

Alejandro wins World Tour and now not only does his family treat him poorly, but so does the rest of the world. Even Heather gets her bit of redemption after being "used by the evil Alejandro." But none of the shows fans like him. They can admit he was smart, yes, but ultimately someone able to play with that many peoples hearts is not a good person. Twitter trends with phrases like 'rigged', 'not my tdw', and 'slippery eel' for weeks after his victory. His phone number gets leaked, bombarded with hateful messages, and his car gets keyed during the ten minutes he takes to run into his local mall to pick up a gift for his mother on her birthday. Tiktok makes 'plot twist' edits of him. Where it begins with him, but ultimately switches to another of his precious peers after they "shut him down" and the entire concept is just one big fuck Alejandro party in the comments. Hundreds- thousands of greasy idiots belittling him for their enjoyment. He doesn't even post on Instagram anymore. Too pussy to entirely turn off the comments and let the world think they've won, he just buries the app deep in a folder and leaves it untouched. Eel. Fake. Bop. I'm doing it, are you? How many letters in Alejandro? Is that oil I see? Noah = 8.

Some people even show up at his house. His father hires bodyguards and demands the police to patrol the area, but blames Alejandro for all of it. This is all your fault. You were too careless. You should have done this. You shouldn't have done this. Look, this person figured you out. Why did you say this? That was dumb. Jose would have done better. He WON, didn't he? ...Didn't he? But college starts in two months, so he rides it out as much as he can. College sucks. Everyone stares, but no one approaches unless it's some dickhead-sexist loser clapping him on the back with enough gusto that really re-whacks the reality into him every time. He's met with "Aren't you that asshole that won Total Drama World Tour a couple months ago?" any time he tries to make some friends. None of the cast reach out. It stings, but Alejandro gets it. He's not wanted. Within three weeks, he's moves to the middle of fucking no where with his cat and enrolls in as many online classes that his new mediocre college will allow. - Noah, praised for his intelligence and funny one-liners over his course of 15 minutes of screen-time, is the fan-favourite. Officially. Voted through the after-season special reunion. Even though he never made it far. In the beginning it's vaguely funny, karmatic. Him. Noah. The unlike-able "schemer." Is the one that fans edit on tiktok and quote on Twitter. After a (short)while it's annoying. He can't get his coffee before class without posing(or declining to do so) for at least two instagram photos. He can't scroll Twitter without seeing someone referencing him in the replies. "Giving slippery eel." "It's all down here from here, honey."

Even his nickname for Owen is used to fatshame people everywhere. "Lunchbox." Is commented under anyone over 100 pounds. It puts a foul taste in Noah's mouth that makes him lock his phone and touch fucking grass every time. Tiktok clips of him go viral. So not only does a lot of America know him, most of it does, as well as other parts of the big wide world. It sucks. The studio won't let it die either. They sell merch of his face. Of his sweater vest with the inbuilt button-up. Of his face on a gay flag(which the fans use as confirmation in his sexuality after demanding so from him for months and getting no answer.(He isn't even gay.)) Of his last insult to Alejandro. And, really, who actually won that fight? Noah, bisexual gay icon, who signed away all his rights to merch pay-cut? Or the man and his million dollars that hasn't been seen or heard from in three months? With love and admiration comes hate. It's piling up more and more. And the more people blindly defend him the more people that come out with their "I'm going to be honest. I didn't care for Noah from Total Drama." And Noah can deal with hate. Honestly, he can deal with it better than he can with love and people genuinely liking him. But he's seen the pattern. He knows where this is going. He goes on a few interviews he never accepted before, gets a new phone number, deletes all his social media, applies to a new college with a student count of 2,000, and retires his red sweaters.

Fuck the internet.

- You'll never guess who he sees.

[emthimofnight]

would the three failed siblings have different personalities if they were raised by sonic and shadow?, and if so what would their personalities be?

Oh, for sure! Being raised in a positive environment where they aren't pitted against one another would really bring out their best traits. 😁

Void

Eldest brother

Still has low empathy, but is better at relating to others and putting himself in their shoes.

Very logical. Thinks things through far more than his siblings. That being said, he is extremely impulsive when emotional.

The most morally gray out of his siblings, but is still considered a "hero". Shadow worries he is only playing the hero role because it gives him an excuse to fight.

... He really does like fighting.

Definitely the one to suggest murder before anyone else.

Bumps heads with Shadow. Shadow sees a lot of the things he doesn't like about himself in Void, and projects a lot of his personal baggage onto him.

Closer to Sonic, finds his presence to be calming and enjoyable. Sonic knows how to handle Shadow, and therefore better understands how to handle Void.

Patient, protective, but blunt. Will almost ALWAYS tell someone the cold, hard truth, even if it hurts them. There have been many times he's made one of his siblings cry for being "too mean." He doesn't see it that way.

The quietest and least disruptive of his siblings. Spends a lot of time reading.

Andromeda

Eldest sister

Can come across as bratty or vain, but loves her family deeply. Often can't decide if they are the most annoying people in the world, or her favorite.

Still very much a moody teenager, but the normal, non-traumatized amount.

Would be that pretty, popular older sister that Stellar wishes she was more like.

Prefers to stay out of fights, despite her power. Values her appearance greatly and would rather her perfectly preened quills didn't get disturbed. That being said, she has an explosive temper, and won't shy away from punching it out with someone who pisses her off.

Gets along great with Shadow for the most part, but when they disagree, their fights are infamously explosive. Sonic can do little to defuse an argument between the two of them once it has started, so he usually tells the other kids to make some popcorn.

That being said, she, Shadow, and Stellar would often go shopping or to the spa together!

Sonic, on the other hand, would be her favorite dad to chill and watch movies with!

Very protective of her siblings. That type of girl to tease and make fun of her family, but immediately turn on anyone else who does. Those are HER idiots, dammit!

Polarity

Youngest brother (but still older than Stellar!!)

Playful, witty, and clever. No one thinks of faster comebacks than he does!

A LOT like Sonic, but with a softer edge. Has less of his bold-faced confidence.

Sporty and active, but also a huge nerd. LOVES comic books!

Fastest runner out of his siblings, period.

Due to having a lot of the same interests, Sonic and Polarity would spend a lot of time together! The two of them would have a lot of inside jokes and running bits. Polarity would want to be just like him!

The most eager to be a great hero out of his siblings.

Despite his closeness with Sonic, he is not missing any love from Shadow. It would seem that all the things Shadow likes about Sonic, he likes about Polarity. Shadow clearly has a favorite between his two sons.

Polarity and Stellar are the only two people who know how to make Shadow laugh consistently.

Polarity and Stellar are also the most alike among the siblings! The two of them are super close. Unfortunately for Polarity, being around Stellar seems to make him dumber. There is only one brain cell between the two of them when they are left to their own devices.

His antagonistic relationship with Void isn't present here! The two of them get along fine, even if Polarity isn't particularly close to him. If anything, he wishes the two of them did more stuff together.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hii! Hope you’re having a great day :D

I was thinking about Law with a tall male reader who looks very intimidating. everyone thinks that he is the top in the relationship but Law is the one who actually tops/? Like his s/o looks like a top but is actually a pillow princess. ;)

You can take this as a request or not if you want :3

Trafalgar D. Water Law x Tall male reader

Headcanons

Guten Abend everyone, still getting dragged over the studying coals, but fuck it we ball.

No outright smut in this one, mainly just focusing on their relationship since im exhausted, but I hope its still enjoyable.

In the One Piece universe, being tall can mean a lot of things. Being taller than Law just means you have to be somewhere over 6 ft 5, or taller, if that’s what you prefer. Being intimidating isn’t too hard either, especially if you are a fellow pirate.

Seeing you two together can be a little off-putting to the people around you, at least the ones that aren’t part of your crew, who know you two on a more personal level.

No one would dare to make assumptions in the beginning of a meeting, since Law already has quite the reputation, and either your scary aura or your own dangerous reputation makes people shut up. They might have ideas to themselves, but they wouldn’t verbalize it.

It probably comes up during an afterparty of some kind, after you guys have defeated the baddie of the week and you’re all kicking back. Since Law isn’t a big fan of drinking, you would end up being the one getting tipsy out of the two of you.

At some point during the night, Kidd or others who are more comfortable with you two, would start making jabs or ask questions, as one does when you get wasted. It becomes clear pretty damn quick though, that everyone thinks that Law is the one who bottoms.

Law isn’t the type to out your guy’s bedroom life, but I could still imagine him asking, in a bit of a tense tone, why they think that. That’s when you guys get the explanation from your allies and friends. But it all boils down to you being taller, bigger, scarier and with a stronger presence. So, it just made sense to them.

It gets a bit of a laugh from you, and you can tell from the tension in Laws jaw that it gets on his nerves, maybe even hurting his ego a little. But you also know your lover wouldn’t verbalize those thoughts, not wanting to admit something like an assumption of his bedroom role would hit him in any way.

When you guys get back to the polar tang, one would assume Law would drag you off to the bedroom to show you and him that your friends and allies’ assumptions were wrong. But Law is also a doctor, so he wouldn’t want to do such a thing when you’re drunk.

Instead, he gets some water in you, gets you something to eat, helps you get washed down if that’s what you need, and then the two of you conk out in bed, Law the big spoon even if you are taller. Hes like your tattooed backpack, if the height difference is big enough.

Law doesn’t end up making a move on you in the morning either if you suffer from hangovers, instead your lover would make sure you were alright, and get you something for the hangover if its bad enough. His ego may have been wounded a little, but he’s a respectful guy, especially to you as his lover.

That evening, or the day after though, you’re all his, not that you mind though. Seeing as all your crewmates are most likely still out partying or suffering from hangovers, you two have the polar tang all to yourself.

As you enjoy laying back and receiving pleasure without doing much in return, Law gets to do most of the work. He doesn’t need the same in return, as giving you pleasure is satisfying for him. Being in charge would feel quite nice for him, as it allows him to have an eye on the entire situation and what’s going on.

Law would definitely also use his devil fruit power when you guys are together, since it would make it easier for the both of you, and with his devil fruit he’s able to reach parts of you no one else can.

In the end, people you meet, and probably most of your friends and allies, think you are the top still, but Law wouldn’t mind too much after you show him that you don’t think lesser of him or let other people’s assumptions bother you or your relationship.

[hyperblue]

okay i got around and actually wrote it all down, so please enjoy: timkon clone twins au lets fucking go

— they are not technically twins, they're just two clones who happen to develop back to back at the same time, but those are just semantics since they were raised like brother and sister anyway; wendy is considered oldest but only because she was the first outta test tube (tim had to have a little breakdown moment while holding her in his arms before he was able to get jackie out too; wendy is the only person who actually cares about being oldest, jackie is not thrilled because "you're literally only 10 minutes older can you maybe chill")

— wendy's full name is gwendolyn stephanie drake, bc i believe that if tim Has to honor someone by giving their name to his child it should be steph, plus i am cackling at the thought of wendy naming all her social accounts "gwen stefani"; no one really ever calls her gwen tho, the only reason she's not just wendy in papers is because tim was a little pretentious; i also quite like gwendolyn lois but i don't think tim would actually go for it (kon could tho, if he were alive at the time)

— jackie is jackson bartholomew drake. i personally prefer to think that if tim gave it some time he would probably choose a different name, but he just really missed his dad at the moment (he missed everyone, really), and by the time he actually had enough mental stability to sit on it the kid was already pretty much established as jackie withing the family, so yeah. no one ever calls him jack btw, so it's fine

— they both quite like their names although they can't help but nudge their dad a little from time to time, being like "gwendolyn stefanie, dad, really? it's like you picked up a name on pinterest or some shit" ("language"); they are both referred to as "ducklings" within the family (dick was the first to do it, tim started doing the same by pure accident and then it just kinda stuck)

— wendy took a lot after janet drake genetic-wise, to the point where it almost rubs tim in a wrong way sometimes when she gets older — her hair is much lighter than her father's or brother's and doesn't really curl that much, although she's not as pale as tim and has a distinguish golden undertone to her skin; she also gets freckles in summer. tim is one of few people who can actually see kon in her without deliberate searching, especially when she smiles. she has his eyes though, and she leans more on a shorter side (short queen supremacy)

— jackie is pretty much kon in miniature, or at least he is if you don't know where to look. kon himself insists that jackie is a perfect mix of both him and tim, it's just that distinguish curly hair and golden-brown skin throw people off most of the time — jackie for sure has tim's nose and cheekbones, tim's high forehead, tim's sheepish smiles and tim's cunning smirks. he's also a bit leaner that kon as he gets older and also a little bit shorter, although he's still taller than both tim and wendy

— wendy is a certified horse girl, she took horse riding lessons since she was like five (she was begging tim for y e a r s really, at first he insisted on waiting till she was at least six but i guess her kryptonian powers kicked in a little earlier and it doubled down some of tim's parental anxiety, although he definitely was there for a first few lessons just to keep an eye on her). damian got her her own horse eventually, because of course he did. he is her favorite uncle ever since

— she's a true crime videos/podcasts enjoyer (that's how she bonds with her dad)

— jackie is very much into making paper collages since he was around eight years old and has made his first one in school for fathers day (tim has framed it immediately and set it on his table in the WE office; it's still there after years); he used to have a lot of social anxiety as a kid because of being homeschooled 'till first grade and being very attached to tim, and has found the process of making paper collages very soothing

— jackie graduates college eventually (alfred: "thank god. at least one of them")

— they both eventually got into photography like their dad, but jackie is taking more of a professional approach, whereas wendy is mostly doing it for the sake of keeping the memories; that's why she has a small digital camera that she always carries around (it's covered in cute sparkling stickers because duh)

— they are both pan and demisexual

— as i mentioned, the kids were homeschooled for a while, by which i mean that they never went to kindergarten because tim was too paranoid about any potential kryptonian superpowers kicking in anytime; the other reason was that tim's kind of a helicopter parent, especially after coming back from his brucequest, and he's very dependent on both of his kids

— yes it backfires later

— jackie loves his dad more than anything else in the world, and has spent most of his early childhood following him around and throwing tantrums the second tim was out of his sight (which was quite rare, to be fair, at least until tim had to get back to his job at the WE); tim is 90% sure that it has something to do with him being gone for a while to find and save bruce. it evens out a little as jackie gets older and starts going to school and then college, but he's still pretty much codependent, and any decision that he makes about his life ties back to "what would dad do; will it make dad proud/happy; what would dad want for me"

— wendy on the other hand is kon's daughter through and through, she admires him and looks up to him but she has a very complicated, conflicted feelings about her and her brother's circumstances of birth, making her anxious in a way that is like "oh my god am i being annoying what if he doesn't like me what if he looks at me and only sees a living proof of his humans rights violation should i consider never talking to him again god i HATE my dad", so most of her actual interactions with kon are quite awkward on both ends

— tim and kon do not get together until kids are around their late teens, so neither of them calls or really considers kon dad, even tho he definitely played a significant part in their upbringing as soon as he came around with the whole child-cloning situation. wendy was the first to call him dad not long after she moved to the kent's farm, which was an accident, really — she was trying out vigilantism for the first time and got her ass kicked bc lack of experience, and her first instinct at being cornered by a villain was to literally just call for dad (at the back of her mind she meant tim, because to their family kon was always just kon, but the moment he pulled her in and put his hand on the back of her head and said "it's okay, sweetheart, dad's here", nothing has ever made more sense to her than kon being her father. the thought was both thrilling and terrifying)

— tim is "dad", kon is "pa" (if that wasn't already obvious)

— also, yes. wendy eventually moves to the kent's farm to live with kon; more on that in some other post

— kon kind of inherited the kent's farm after both john and martha passed away; technically clack is still the one who owns it, but his and his family's life is mostly in metropolis and he didn't want the place he grew up in turn into an empty memorial of it's better days + he also knew how important it was to kon at the time to have a place he could always return to, so yeah, everyone won in this situation

[tragedybunny]

Sunlight and Stars in the Sky part 2 - Astarion x F!Reader

First part - here

Weary and embarrassed you try to put distance between yourself and Astarion. But you slowly come to realize things are changing between the two of you.

Astarion is gone when you wake up, probably out hunting, and you breathe a sigh of relief. At least you won't be able to embarrass yourself further. Throwing yourself at him, being refused by him of all people, forcing him to let you into his tent to calm down, and that nonsense you'd spouted, gods he must've been so annoyed with you. 

All he wanted from you was a bit of fun, some enjoyable interludes during this journey you'd found yourselves on. You weren't so naive that you thought there was more to it. Yet he'd somehow found a little place in your heart. Which you had stupidly exposed to him last night with that stars in the sky drivel. If he kept his distance from now on, you'd know why. 

Head pounding from the wine, you fumble around for your boots. Slipping them on, you hurry back to your tent, and throw yourself under the covers, glad you didn't run into Astarion. The rest of the night is filled with fitful sleep, the drink making you nauseous and your memories driving you almost to tears. When the sun at last rises, the camp awakens muted and somber. Unable to face him, you wait until the scent of breakfast fills the air to finally leave your tent. 

Naturally he's somehow right there. "Good morning Darling," even he seems muted after everything, probably worried you'll be all over him again, "feeling better?"

"A little, sorry for the trouble last night," you murmur hastily, trying not to look at him before rushing off, unable to make yourself listen to his conciliatory response. 

Breakfast and breaking camp take far longer than they should and your solemn crew takes to the road that leads beyond the monastery to the shadow cursed lands much later than they should. As seems to be your fate though, not even a simple road is easy, and a group of undead bar the way. Body and mind aching, you fumble through the fight, spells missing their target, and reactions slowed. You don’t see the monster that’s crept up on you until it’s nearly too late to dodge its flailing attack. Suddenly the earth lurches and you’re facing the dirt. Panic constricts your chest, death is so close, even all you managed to overcome wasn't enough. Rolling, you try to get your feet under you, and find your assailant hovering over you. Your lungs inhale what is likely your final breath and you tense just a crossbow bolt sprouts from its forehead. It stumbles back and Karlach’s axe removes its head from its body. 

Most of the gory sight is blocked from your view as Astarion appears over you, crossbow back over his shoulder, pale hand outstretched and brow furrowed. “Are you alright my Dear?”

You wince and take his hand, twice as humiliated as before. Reaching a sitting position, you stop, your body unwilling to go further. Everything from the Nautiloid, to the Creche, to making a fool of yourself, bears down on you, and it’s all too much. One win at the Grove amongst a tide of wounding losses. Hands rub at your eyes to push away the tears. “Sweetheart,” Astarion is suddenly crouching next to you, brushing your hair out of your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, pulling away from that touch that you want to be real affection so badly. 

“You look exhausted.” Before you can protest, he’s turning to the rest of the group. “We should stop for the night.”

“Tsk'va, we’ve barely made progress,” Lae’zel snaps, any good humor she's developed gone for the moment, “we still have worms in our head, did you forget that whilst basking in the sun.” 

His eyes narrow for a moment, and he looks like he’ll shout back, but he contains it. “We’ve all had a hard time, and we’re in rough shape. Let’s get some rest and start fresh in the morning.” 

They don’t need to be told he’s talking about you, collapsed in the dirt, and you can feel their eyes turn on you. “That sounds eminently reasonable," Gale chimes in and the rest assent.

"Let's go find a nice spot," Karlach says brightly, taking Wyll by the hand and leaving the main road. 

The others follow in their wake until just the two of you are left. Reluctantly, you start to get your feet under you, feeling as weary as he says you were, and silently start off towards them. The crunch of his boots tell you Astarion is just behind you, a small mercy as he can't see the state you're in. Your chest aches, you can't seem to banish the tears that keep threatening, and nothing feels like it has a point anymore. When you catch up with the others, they're already setting camp for the night, with Gale prepping dinner with as much cheer as he can muster and the others barely speaking at all. The whole of it seems like too much and you collapse on a log near the fire, Astarion joining you seconds later. 

Shifting closer, he looks like he's about to speak when the sounds of an argument draws your attention and he just sighs instead. "The Underdark is backtracking, a waste of time and dangerous." Lae’zel is shouting at Shadowheart. 

"Well it might deter the interference of your people," she returns.

"That is a point, this road is already dangerous," Halsin chimes in. 

"What do you think," Wyll has wandered over from setting up his tent and turned to you. For the second time today, your whole group is looking to you, only this time they're expecting that leadership you've shown them this whole journey. 

"I…" you just can't find it in you.

"Gods," Astarion growls, "can you all not make one simple decision without her? She's tired and you're putting this on her. It's bad enough you expect her help solving all your petty problems."

"But it's fine if it's your petty problems, right Astarion," Gale accuses, his face dark. You know his problem is far from petty. 

"Say that again," Astarion hisses and does something you've never seen him do to one of your companions, he snarls and bares his fangs. 

"Astarion," you scold, stirred from your stupor finally and he gives you a wounded look. "Let's just get some dinner in everyone. Then we can discuss the Underdark." They need you, it would hardly do to give up now. 

"Right, you heard the lady, give her some space until dinner is done," Karlach waves them off and gives you a wink. 

Part of you expects Astarion to be angry with you for the reproach but instead he gently takes your hands in his. "How about I get the tent set up, you can rest before dinner. Or you could stay there the whole night, you don't owe them an answer." 

The tent, your mind reels. It's his tent and he's never been fond of anyone infringing on his space. Is he still feeling sorry for you? You cringe, and pull your hands from his. "I can stay in my own tent."

"Oh," he seems to shrink in on himself. "I had been wondering since you were gone when I got back last night. Did I do something wrong? I admit I'm new to having someone close like that.” His voice is quiet and unsure, and nothing like what you’re used to. “Or maybe it's my temperature, I know I'm not exactly very warm," he offers and laughs somewhat awkwardly.

"I just don't want to…" For the first time today, you really look at him, and you don't see the same Astarion you've been traveling with. His eyes are wide and soft, his expression full of hope and longing and not scorn for the world around him. You find his hands where you left them, as though waiting for yours. Something has changed, something that makes your heart flutter and chases away the darkness of your thoughts. You were going to say pretend; pretend he wanted you there, pretend you didn't make an idiot out of yourself; but that doesn't feel right anymore. "Impose," you slide your hands back into his and small smile ghosts over his features. 

"Love, I told you last night, you're not imposing. Well you were very drunk," a small kiss on your cheek makes you flush, “perhaps you don’t remember.” 

“Some rest is probably a good idea,” you admit, giving in to the ethereal moment that seems to be burgeoning between the two of you. 

He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “I told you so,” his usual smirk is back in place but it’s softer than before. 

While he’s gone you try to temper yourself, this could be temporary, and you should focus on your very grim situation, your losses and setbacks are still real. But it all vanishes the moment he’s leading you back to the tent and settling you into a pile of pillows and blankets, some of them from your own supplies. Your things, mingled with his, the two of you, joined together. With your approval very visible from the smile you can't hide, he joins you, pulling you into his arms so your head rests against his chest. From around the fire you hear voices, friendly banter, spirits are lifting, hope is prevailing. You’re glad but still so tired, and it’s so nice here with Astarion, a little peace for just the two of you. “Thank you, I really needed this,” you murmur sleepily. 

“Think nothing of it, my Sunlight,” he kisses the top of your head. 

It brings back the other night, but there’s no awkwardness for you now, you spoke true, no matter what happens from now on, he’ll always be the light of all your nights, the beauty out of darkness. “My Starry Sky.” 

He gives a small hum of approval, “I am growing fond of that nickname,” and he holds you tighter. There’s a note of sadness you think in his voice, but you’re almost asleep, maybe you imagined it. 

[gutterfuuck]

bro bro hear me out

you’re like the only mark writer out there so i NEED THIS TO HAPPEN PLS.

frat boy mark x sorority girl reader.

PLLLLLEAAAAAAAASEEEEEEEEEEE.

enough — !

this idea was so good, i had to start writing before i lost my mind and forgot!! you are such genius. this is probably a little off topic(?) as what you were thinking!! sorry if it is not what you expected, however, i will be using this idea in future so if you do not enjoy this, i will be writing another that is more enjoyable to you!! (with credit to you of course as the original anon!!) the frat name is an abbreviation because i couldn’t come up with one 😭😭

cw: reader is like 2 years older than mark? idk they’re both in their 20s, no superheroes/abilities au!!, william is in here for a bit i love william #williamforpresident2024, alcohol, typical college frat/sorority type parties, the start is quite long sorry i got carried away 😭, dubcon(?), reader is a bitch lowkey, mark gets mean, smut, headlock, piv, degradation, mark gets really mean ouh, creampie hehe, typical sparkie fic it’s evil and hiding under your bed like the babadook or something, aftercare at the end cuz i got soft

a/n: i was supposed to release this yesterday night though have had to edit and spellcheck this myself!! i am quite proud as this is probably the longest fic i have written without any editing from my friend!! if you notice small mistakes no you didn’t

he’s had it with you.

it’s only been a few months since he’s started college and he’s already way behind everyone else. you didn’t have a care in the world, you’d already completed college!! yet you still stay in your old dorm room, bunking with someone who had gotten lucky and left without a roommate, you payed whatever rent you felt like. you just enjoyed the college scenery, the lifestyle, you never wanted it to end… most of all, you loved your sorority. you were well aware that you might’ve looked a little bit like a loser, still hanging out with the sorority with ever changing members. you didn’t care, you were practically in charge, their leader - the queen bee. and that’s what got on his nerves.

you see, you’ve been handed life on a silver platter. a sweet 16th birthday party with a car bought just for you, spoiled absolutely rotten. mark couldn’t really talk, but at least his family came from humble beginnings, you’ve always had your money and status. you’ve always gotten what you want, even if you had to play the long game. the long, hard, boring game... which people could only stand for five minutes or less, what with your constant whining sounds and your foot stomping on the ground, pouting with your arms crossed over your chest. whatever you wanted, people just gave to you. handed themselves on a silver platter… not him. never him.

mark had a love-hate relationship with you. on one hand, you were hot, stunning… he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about you some nights, just like the other guys he hung around with.. on the other hand, you were nothing but a spoiled brat. he remembered the first time you’d come bolting at him as he stood at the doorstep of your sorority house, confusing it with the other one he’d supposed to have showed up at on his first day. you threw your arms around him as your head pounded from last night’s heavy drinking, your only sober thought being “i hope the other girls don’t get to him first.”

“fresh meat huhhh… i *hic* always like the newer ones… you like to party..?” you ask, swaying around with your arm around his like you’d known him for years let alone five seconds. mark tensed, expression shifting to slight annoyance as you almost crumpled over, dragging you back up by your shoulder gently. “no. do you know where house 242 is?” you pout at him, wavy finger pressing to his cheek and wobbling a line down his face before he smacked your hand away, tutting at you and looking around the front porch of your sorority house. bingo. mark shook you away, trudging towards the folded up lawn chair he had spotted, bringing it back and unfolding it for you. you’d annoyed him, sure, but his mother had taught him to be nice to girls.

actually, he pitied you. mark thought he could read between the lines, thought you being drunk at 11am on a wednesday morning must’ve been because you were hurting about something, someone, someplace… debbie’s words before she dropped him off in the car two days prior played in his head, ‘you never know what people could be going through, so be kind.’ as much as you’d bothered him so far, he was still inclined to make sure you were at least sat down to minimize risking an injury. you flopped down into the chair, groaning when you bumped your spine against the metal frame of it, tilting your head back to look up at him. he stared down at you with tired brown eyes, stoic expression not registering to you in your drunken state. at least you were pretty.

he clears his throat before he talks again, unfolding a piece of paper from his pocket, “house 242. do you know how to get there?” your eyes widen, mouth falling open with an excited gasp, “shut up! you are not in OOA!” you slur loudly, attempting to get up from your seat but dropping back into it as your socked feet slipped on the grassy ground below. mark gave a sideways smile and nodded slowly, he hadn’t been given the frat name yet, only the house number. mark didn’t want to have to walk around campus with a drunk sorority girl, you were only dressed in a night dress and a loose jacket, people would get the wrong idea! but, if he had no choice (and he didn’t really feel like walking around campus and looking for the house for the third time today) he’d have to have you as his temporary guide of sorts. this was so embarrassing, he really hoped nobody would think of him as a scumbag.

after watching you flap your arms and get all excited about his frat, you wobble towards the house, rushing to put on a pair of shorts and a tank top, slipping your feet into your fluffy pink slippers, a staple. because of you, no other girls apart from your sorority would wear pink shoes around campus. and you wondered why people had branded you, and your little minions who wanted to be like you, as a bully of sorts. actually, if you thought for more than twenty seconds about it, you’d know people’d rather stay on your good side: you were rich, pretty, stole people’s boyfriends on the regular, confronted those who you thought were competition and you were allowed to basically do as you wanted. because daddykins’ best friends with the dean and the dean makes wayyyy less than your dear old dad and your father bends over backwards for you so if you wanted to waste your degree you fucked and paid yourself to, then you absolutely could.

when you both start walking, you attempt to interlock your arm with his, twisting your face up in disbelief when he rejected your advances. nobody had ever, ever, in the history of ever, done that to you. you want to stamp your foot on the ground but you resist, awkwardly crossing your arms over your chest. maybe he was just shy, you’d met guys like this before. new, shy, never had a pretty girl at his side like this… you got it, you really did. you’d take this as a loss, you’d soften him down later, OOA liked to party and you hadn’t seen a new member who hadn’t drank on their first night yet. you’d know, you’d been doing this same routine for almost three years. fresh meat, lost little lamb, needs the drunk pretty girl’s help ‘cause OOA was pretty hidden away, slipping your arm into theirs to tease them, walking them to their new hangout… coming back before seven on the evening and flirting your way into the new guy’s pants, blocking them when they try to contact you before moving on to the next one… one step had already gone south in your plan. you’d take it on the chin this time. he was cute and you’d already claimed him as yours, the other girls would know as soon as they saw him.

the path you both walked on faded into the concrete, a grassy path appearing as you spotted some guys outside of the house, a keg of beer already being set up this early in the day. mark thought maybe he’d made a mistake jointing the same frat his father had during his own college days, the promise of the frat being quite calm and collected faded away from almost three decades ago, the newer generation of young adults poisoning the good name his father had gone on and on about. sure, nolan had drank during his college years but parties and alcohol were never kept at OOA.

you see, mark wasn’t the average frat guy type: not loud, not obnoxious, actually wanted to learn and grow from his college experience and make some new friends. good friends, not meatheads who didn’t know their asses from their elbows. he hoped at least one person in that house was capable, sighing quietly to himself as he unenthusiastically approached the house with you. a guy waved at you, you waved back with a giggle as another set his drink down, announcing to the other guys that “y/n was here”. oh, so you were just a slut then. you don’t know what people could be going through, so be nice. he rolled his eyes internally, feeling slightly guilty with his thoughts as a red plastic cup is thrust into his chest by someone he’d found familiar, looking up to meet william’s eyes, his stone face cracking into a smile. he hadn’t even noticed the way you’d slipped away from him, chatting with some guy who stood shirtless with a concoction of different liquors that made him blink too slowly, constantly shifting from foot to foot to maintain his balance.

“what happened to not wanting to join us?” his friend asks as mark takes the cup into his hand, smelling the contents of the drink before he decides not to put it to his lips. it was way too early to day drink, he hadn’t even put his backpack down yet, “changed my mind, dad was on my ass about it, i just didn’t want the headache when i go visit.” he shrugged, eyes wondering over to you, watching as you let that guy hug you from behind, a strange feeling bubbling up in his gut. he wasn’t sure if he felt shame or disappointment that you hadn’t stayed with him, no longer worried about how weird it would have looked to walk around with you intoxicated. he looks away before your eyes meet his again, attention shifting back to william and whatever he had been babbling on about before he’d started daydreaming. “…and that’s why- mark? are you listening?” william snapped his fingers at him, shaking him out of his absent looking gaze. william looks behind him, in the direction mark had been staring in, slowly nodding his head with an eyebrow lifted when he looks back at mark again, “oh, right. i get it.” he smirks, mark’s red tinted cheeks being confirmation. “shut up, she only bought me here ‘cause you weren’t answering your texts.” he retorts, shaking his head when william gives him a knowing look.

that was the first day he’d met you. mark didn’t go to the party that night, much to your disappointment. instead, you spent the night in the lap of one of the jocks you’d settled on as a compromise, swigging back shots of vodka and rejecting his advances. he had a tiny cock anyway, you’d seen it before when one of the girls in your sorority received a picture of his dick and squealed about how gross the foreskin looked. you weren’t gonna fuck this guy, partly because you didn’t feel like it and partly because you were disappointed that you hadn’t gotten to see more of mark. you’d see him around campus, catch him staring at you outside sometimes. every interaction was short lived, always being shut down by him. hard to get was by far your least favourite game and there was no way mark would be able to resist someone like you! this had to be the twilight zone or something.

you’d tried everything at this point, low cut shirts with short skirts that exposed the bottom of your butt, shorts that should class as panties with how they barely classed as shorts, bikinis, standing outside his frat house while he was in it and being sprayed by beer in a wet t shirt contest, the works!! you had never been so offended, he just acted as if he didn’t even see you! it’s been four months now, four months of being basically celibate due to your petty “if he cant take me, nobody will have me” mentality. god, you were acting desperate. it embarrassed you, you hated working hard for things that should come as easy as one, two and three. while you thought your attention seeking streak was getting you nowhere, mark’s brain was going into overdrive.

“i just don’t get why you’re so… worked up about it.” william says as he sips from his mug that held coffee - the irish kind since he had a migraine from yesterday’s party and felt the only way to recover was to drink more - sitting with his leg crossed over the other on the sofa with mark who typed away on his laptop, “worked up? worked up?” mark repeated, never looking up from his screen, “come on. i’m sure she didn’t mean it-“ william began, sentence cut short by mark slamming his laptop down, getting up from the couch to put it on the kitchen isle, eyebrows furrowed. he was talking about how you’d ‘accidentally’ taken his jacket instead of yours and when he’d asked for it the morning after, you’d sent one of your sorority minions outside to tell him that they had no clue where the jacket or you was- only to see you walking around campus in it like it belonged to you a minute later, returning to the sorority house with drinks in a little black plastic bag. he had to walk back in the rain, his shirt soaked and blood boiling. yes, the jacket wasn’t a big deal. what william didn’t know was that he was mad because for the last few weeks, you’d been at the parties he’d been at. not only that but you’d always have a different guy all over you, always looking over to him, almost like you were doing it on purpose.

“yeah sure, i’m sure she didn’t mean to spill her drink all over me last week and steal my jacket yesterday, y’know, the one i needed to get home in the rain… oh, i’m sure she didn’t mean to break the fucking tv- the only one we have, when she came over for beer-pong.” mark spits back, pinching the space between his eyes with his index and thumb. william rolls his eyes, sipping away at his coffee without a care in the world. “and i’m sure she didn’t mean to make me miss nearly all of my classes.” he finishes, which makes william turn his head towards him with a smile, “oh, i’m sure y/n physically kept you from going to class.” william tuts, standing up and walking out of the room, “last time i checked, she doesn’t even go here…!” he said as he walked off, refusing to argue with mark. william was right, you hadn’t stopped him from attending classes. he’d just become a little obsessed maybe, wanted to keep an eye on you just in case. mark could only think back to the first day he’d met you, how you’d been drunk from before noon and how you looked like you needed help, how his mother’s words buzzed around in his head… he still hung onto that, taking himself up as your personal guardian angel without your knowledge.

you open your phone when you leave the shower, whatever music that had been playing through it stopping as you pressed pause to focus on the words on your screen:

william🤞

prty @ 242 6pm. bring back his jacket 🙄

you tilt your head slightly before you remember what he’s talking about. you dry your hands, opening your phone to respond,

y/n

omw ❤️

is all you type, not bothering to look at the notification that made your phone buzz before you rush to your little vanity, ready to doll yourself up for the evening and throw on some clothes, pairing them with the jacket you’d now have to return. you get an influx of messages on your phone suddenly, the group chat of the girls in your sorority letting you know that they’d also be attending, emojis and gifs and reaction images galore as you scroll through your phone. the girls wanted to go colour coordinated, all in the same pink miniskirts and black tank tops. you, however, wore a black miniskirt with a pink tank top, just to differentiate yourself from the rest of your hive. you didn’t remember exactly when you’d gotten william’s number but he was useful at times. plus, you thought he was pretty fun to hang around with! that, and the fact that he was mark’s best friend.

when you get to the OOA house music is already blaring and some of the boys are already sat out on the porch, some members of your sorority had shown up a few minutes prior. probably the new girls, you think, knowing the other girls wouldn’t make a mistake as grave as showing up earlier than you. for once, you’re gonna let it go. you were in a good mood today, felt like you were finally going to get your hands all over that slippery prick. you didn’t know why you had your sights set on him, you could be with literally anyone else. you told yourself it was pride, he’d offended you by rejecting you. pretty girls never knew when to quit, especially the rich and spoiled ones like yourself. you made heads turn towards you, as per usual. compliments flooded into your ears, dry “thank you”’s and “aww you’re so cute”’s leaving your mouth, hiding the scowl you had plastered under your perfect demeanour.

you scanned the room, looking for one person in particular, pushing away drinks that had been offered to you before you decided to just give up, plopping yourself down on the same sofa mark had been typing his essay on hours prior, finally giving in when william approaches you, swaying a little as he walked, already wasted by the looks of it. you put on a fake smile, trying to stop yourself from having a full on temper tantrum over not being able to find the guy you’d gotten all dressed up for, wearing his jacket, having no fun at the party his frat house was throwing. william opens his mouth before closing it again like a fish, trying to find his words, “y-you came..!” he speaks loudly, placing his cup on the coffee table in front of you, already littered with other people’s drinks as he throws his arms around you in a hug, “duh, it’s not a party til i’m here.” you say, your friendly tone threatening to falter as you looked down at your nails, observing them as if they had better things going on. you return his drunken embrace, giggling when he accidentally spills his drink on himself.

“you bought it, good..! you wouldn’t believe his b-..b-bitching- earlier-“ he covers his mouth with his hand to stop himself from burping at the last part of his sentence, gesturing towards the jacket you had draped over your shoulders to which you nod and smile, patience wearing thin. if william was here then where the fuck was mark? you wanted to ask him where the rest of him was, though didn’t think he’d understand as fast in his drunken state. tipsy wasn’t even the word. “it just looked so similar to mine, ha!” you lied, finally taking one of the empty cups out of the plastic sleeve and helping yourself to the bottle of vodka that stood in the middle, pouring orange juice straight into it afterwards to try and mask the sharp taste. william laughs, you drink.

“actually- he’s upstairs. studying or whate-ever.” william points to the ceiling, brushing some of his hair out of his face, “i can go give it to him if you like-“ and just like his conversation with mark earlier, he’s cut off short again by you springing up with a no, forgetting about your drink as it spilled over the rim, the whole thing splashing over your shirt. you gasp and squeak, william tries to stifle a loud laugh that would’ve bought all of the attention to you. even while drunk he knew not to put his reputation on the line, and his reputation he did kind of value. nobody wanted to draw unnecessary attention to you, the last person who had done that had been trashed so badly they had to move out of the state after a few months of non stop rumours. you sigh, defeated as you pick up someone’s jumper - they shouldn’t have left it out in the first place if they didn’t want you to use it as a cloth - and trying to soak all of the alcohol out of the black fabric. “bathroom upstairs- mark’s in the room to the r-right— ugh, i’m gonna throw up,” william says as he retches, cheeks puffing out before he takes his leave, sprinting into the back garden to puke in a plant pot. a few more compliments, you’re flirted with by a guy for like five minutes, you take a few more swigs of someone else’s drink and you’re headed upstairs, looking for the bathroom and hoping nobody had started fucking in there so you could act out your ever developing plan.

your eyes lit up when you successfully pushed the door and it wasn’t locked, closing it behind you and twisting the latch so nobody would intrude on you. lifting your shirt over your head, you’re careful to not let the fabric ruin your makeup. the next thing that’s discarded is your bra, winking at yourself in the mirror and jiggling your boobs experimentally, making sure your girls looked their best. you then put mark’s jacket on, sleeves coming past your hands as the hem just barely missed your knees. you didn’t hang out or interact with him often, you never get the chance and it’s frustrating, but you’re reminded of the potential size difference between you and him when you put on his jacket. showtime. if this didn’t get you laid tonight, you’d have to get a new name and move out of the COUNTRY out of embarrassment of coming off as desperate. to the right, a door that had large posters on the surface, some stickers peeled away and faded from years of being piled up on the door. a sock on the handle. no fucking way.

this had never happened before. nobody had ever wanted to fuck someone else before sticking it in you. you wanted to scream, rip your hair out and stomp your feet until you fell through the fucking ceiling. this wasn’t fucking happening, the boy you’d had your eyes on was not fucking another girl in this room. you saw red, the reality of not getting your way this time hitting you hard, your hand flying to the handle to twist it open, ready to have a cat fight if necessary. you felt like a steaming bull, felt like steam was coming out of your nose and ears cartoonishly. you didn’t even know what you were gonna do when you saw him and whoever the fuck that stupid bitch was, all you knew was that you hadn’t gotten what you wanted and it was time to let everyone know that.

you’re ready to bite his head off, both of them, blind rage taking over before you lay your eyes on the sight in front of you. he sat with his legs open, pants at his ankles with his head thrown back momentarily, hand going up and down between his thighs with his other hand holding up his shirt before he’s shuffling to cover himself, wide eyed and cursing with his cute face all beet red. “o-out..! get out-!” he stutters, voice cracking as he rushes to close the door, traping you behind it again. you’re stunned, never seen anything so… erotic before. you wished he wore shorts, the way his toned thighs flinched and tensed made you want to slide yourself up and down them, the small snippet of his abs you wished you’d had a longer look at before being blocked from entering… why’d he hide his body away for so long you’d never know. oh how you wished you’d seen his dick, imagining it made your mouth water. you shake your head, clearing your mind to prevent it from clouding with thoughts of lust, you couldn’t have your pussy leaking just yet. were you really so desperate for dick that you’d get wet without even seeing it? just the mental image of him, lip tugged between his teeth, pleasured expression barely visible? get your act together, you thought, breathing heavily before steadying yourself, standing up straight and knocking on his door.

“maaaarrrrkk…” you whine loudly, fist slamming against the posters, “i didn’t see anything, i swear..! but… i also won’t tell anyone if you let me in.” you offer teasingly, smiling wide when you heard a loud groan from the other side, followed by loud footsteps, followed by the door swinging open, mark avoiding your gaze with gritted teeth. he also wasn’t stupid, also had a reputation to keep squeaky clean. he’d had enough of you. for real, this time. he had enough of how you were the bitch who could make or break him if he ever slighted you in any way, had enough of the way you taunted him from afar, had enough of your complete and utter rudeness - who the hell even barges in when there’s a sock on the door? - he’d just had enough. he stood there, arms crossed as you took in your surroundings, blue and yellow scheme familiar to the clothes he wore... then it hit you, this was mark’s room. it wasn’t weird to have people living at a frat house, some people owned them. you wondered how he felt having to listen to music and people yelling and drinking all night, though that thought was quickly brushed away by mark’s voice,

“that’s mine.” he says bluntly, cheeks still pink as he points to his jacket that you wore, still standing at the door like some sort of bouncer. you nod, closing the door behind you and ignoring his words, “nice room y’got… seance dog? how old are you?” you joke, helping yourself to the shelf where stacked comic books stood, picking one up and flicking through it. mark walked towards you, snatching it out of your hands and putting it back, “again, that’s mine. i want my jacket back, y/n. then you should leave.” he spoke matter-of-factly, glaring at you for a second as you rolled your eyes, sitting on his bed and making yourself at home. “ugh, you’re still mad about it? i’m sorry we have the same jacket. i was drunk! fuck, man.” you shoot a glare back, yours with a grin. he’s had enough. he was at his boiling point, red hot rage was about to start bubbling over and you were the person he didn’t really want to take it out on. “y/n, i’m not gonna tell you again.” he warns, scowling at you as he approaches, fists balled up into his hands. this was probably the part of him people could most see his father in, his expression when he got angry. it didn’t scare you, it made you want to tease him more. so he thought he could intimidate you? he had another thing coming.

“you can’t make me. i’ll scream, you want everyone to come rushing up here?” you wouldn’t, you were only teasing. like a bolt of lightning, he’s tugging the zip of his jacket down, attempting to take it off of you and kick you out himself. you grabbed onto the zipper, trying to block his hands away from zipping it down any further, “taking back my shit and you can get the fuck out of here-“ he muttered, ignoring your sounds of protest, “mark— stop it, i’ll go i just-“ he doesn’t care, he’s trying to force your hands away, slapping at them and trying to restrain them to your sides, “shut up, shut the fuck up, give me back my fucking jacket, now—! you’re a liar, your jacket is hot-fucking-pink!” he’s more violent, grabbing the front and damn near shaking you around, your legs trying to kick him away, “m-mark, please-! stop, stop it!” there’s almost tears in your ears as you try to fight him off, remembering how you’d taken off your shirt and left it in the bathroom, with your bra.

mark couldn’t care less about his jacket or if it would be ruined, it was about the principle. more pulling, more trying to hold your hands away, more grabbing the jacket and trying to pull it off before— schzzzzt. fuck. the zipper popped, your protests stopped and mark’s huffs calmed down, eyes settling on your bare chest. tears rolled down your cheeks as you looked up at him, not expecting to have his eyes meet yours. he looks pissed, he’s had enough of you. right now, mark didn’t give a shit about what you were going through, didn’t care about being nice. you’d tipped him over, now he’s really annoyed with you. “mark,” you shuffle away, jumping with a surprised gasp when you feel his hands wrap around your ankles and pull you back to your place, the action making your skirt and his duvet catch on each other, hiking your skirt up to expose your underwear. it was like he wasn’t even looking at your body, keeping his eyes on yours at all times. you open your mouth again and his hand flies to your face, covering your mouth to prevent you from talking at all. now you’re scared, now you’re intimidated. so scared, yet your stomach flipped and your cunt fluttered around nothing when he silenced you with his palm.

“shut up, you bitch.” he snarled, tightening his grip on your face by pushing your cheeks together. it almost hurt, almost. mark shook his head, “what’s wrong with you? you wanna make me mad? for fucks sake—“ his words make your clit throb, your thighs slowly shifting to meet each other so you could move your hips around and get yourself off a little. this was hot, mark was serious. “you’re gonna scream? what the fuck, y/n, what the fuck is your problem!?” you’re wet. fuck, you’re wet and you’re being yelled at. this was the shit you’d see in porn, but for real. no acting, just a coincidence. when he lets you go to get off of you, he finally lets himself catch a glimpse of the wet spot that’s forming in your panties. he should’ve never looked, now he’s caught a sneak of your tits. the noise he makes is halfway between a groan and a sarcastic chuckle, pushing his hair back with the same hand he used to cover your mouth, “now you’re gonna go and leak all over my bed? after trying to go through my stuff?” mark can’t ignore the way his cock strains in his pants, the way it twitches as he glances over you again. any normal person would’ve ran out of his room, trying to cover themselves with the broken jacket and probably never speak to him again. then again, you weren’t a normal person, you were rich. hadn’t ever been told no or been scolded like this before or at all for that matter. you were truly stunned, felt like a deer in headlights.

“m’sorry, sorry..” you finally peep, sniffing as tears dripped down your face. he groaned, clearly annoyed by your antics now, “now you’re gonna cry? now you’re crying, you did this. stop crying, they’re not real tears.” he spits and you obey, quickly wiping your face, black streaks of mascara on your hands as well as your face. fuck, you looked gorgeous like this. you clearly wanted it. you didn’t look like you did, if anyone had burst through like you had earlier they’d definitely get the wrong idea - the worst idea - the kind of idea that stops you from getting a job in your desired field in the future if interpreted the wrong way. mark swallowed thickly. “y’gonna scream?” he asks and you shake your head no without even processing the question, looking up at him with big wide eyes.

you’re on your stomach, clawing at the bedsheets and messing up the way he’d made his bed this morning, face being pressed into a pillow by a heavy hand, mark’s hand. he’s thrusting into you, hips crashing violently against yours over and over again, got your legs trapped between his as he’s using you like you’re a toy, his other hand gripping onto the fat of your ass to help the momentum of his thrusts. your moans are muffled, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth and onto his pillow as you kept your head pressed into the soft cotton pillow, taking in his scent. god, he was jabbing right against your cervix and you let out a particularly loud whine which makes the brute above you lean in to you, his chest pressing against your back so he could talk into your ear meanly, “what’s that? i can’t. fucking. understand. you.” he punctuated each word with a sharp jab into your g-spot, your wrists aching from how hard you were grabbing around at the sheets. he knew you hadn’t said anything, just wanted to tease you like you’d teased him. he’d stripped you naked before you were taking his cock so deliciously right now, tearing your panties off and shaking you out of his jacket which laid beside you. now this was worth playing the hard to get game.

“hey, y/n? you wanna scream?” mark said, sweat beading at his temples as he moaned when he felt your gummy walls close in on him with his words. you shake your head, an almost inaudible ‘no’ coming from the pillow before his arm is hooked around your neck, lifting you up. this new position made you arch your back, leaving you in a dreamy daze as your eyes adjusted to the light of the room again after having your head forced down for so long, “i said, you wanna scream?” he repeats, you shake your head, “n-no-! no, m’m-sorry fuck, mark, i’m sorry—!” you squeal, voice hoarse as he tightens his arm, putting you in a headlock and moving his other hand to your stomach to hold you in place. he was moving so fast, his fat dick throbbed and stretched and rubbed against allll the right places. no other boy had fucked you til your head spun, made you feel so defenceless and inferior… you’d never been filled up this good, you’d been choked, sure - but a headlock? your cunt gripped him tightly, vision dotting as your body shook violently in his grasp, his fingers now swiping over your hard little clit, making you try to stifle the loud half scream of his name somehow, biting your lip with your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

“that’s fucking nasty.” he moaned, watching as you sprayed all over his sheets with your body convulsing, hissing when your pussy started to milk him vigorously as you came. he didn’t stop, only let go of you and watched as you thumped onto the bed weakly, trying to lift yourself up before he’s drilling you with his cock again. you’re hardly responsive, body still twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, not even noticing how you’d laid in your own release until you blinked a few times, the feeling finally coming back into your body that mark had knocked numb for a second, “p-please-“ you gasped out, hand reaching down to tap at his thigh. he swiped it away, grabbing your wrist and jerking your body back to meet his, obsessed with the way your bodies made smacking sounds when he snapped his pelvis into your rear. “you gonna bother me again after this? look at you, you’re lying in your own mess- oh fuck, keep tightening like that—“ he growls into your ear, balls slapping against your sensitive clit from behind. you couldn’t think, your thoughts being fucked out of your brain with every rough jab to your cervix, words forming and failing to put them together into understandable sentences. he’s just as blissed out, his anger had faded forever ago, replaced by a carnal urge to just fuck, keep plunging himself in and out of your weeping cunt.

you whine when he pulls out with a pop, lines of your slick coating his cockhead and sticking to it before they snapped and dribbled down onto the soaked sheets below you, his hands grabbing your waist so he could flip you onto your back this time, taking you by surprise and finally waking you up out of whatever dreamy daze you’d been in. this is just how you felt earlier but better, you were scared of him sure but you’ve never been so turned on, you’d never had someone defy you before, you asked for a pony when you were younger and threatened a tantrum which got you your pony, your parents would rather give you whatever you wanted instead of saying a simple no. you stare up at him, he stares down at you. call you crazy, maybe you were finally being put in your place, but having someone hover over you like this, possessive and firm, made you feel as if you had no power at all. mark didn’t care about who you were or what you could do to ruin him anymore, especially since he’d already ruined you. mascara streaked down the sides and front of your face which made tracks in your foundation, your lipstick had been smudged from having your face pressed into the pillow for so long and you were pretty sure you were missing an eyelash (which you were; stuck to the bedsheets and twisted and ruined, you’d have to buy another pair).

mark grabs one of your legs with his hands, pulling you close to him as he leaned in, body pushing your knee up to your shoulder albeit a little painfully, eliciting an uncomfortable mewl from you in the process. you felt as if you couldn’t talk, if you opened your mouth you’d die or something. you’d taken mark for a virgin what with the way he awkwardly shuffled his feet when you spoke to him, the way he never picked up on or wanted to pursue your advances. “don’t look at me like that.” he grits, eyebrows furrowing at the way you pouted at him. you hadn’t even noticed but now you’ve made him mad so now he’s pushing into you again, spearing you open on his dick wet with your slick, your expression changing as you raised your brows, eyes squeezed shut with your mouth hanging open like you were trying to catch flies. he moves his hands, hooking them under your knees so he could pull you back and forth against himself, cock throbbing and begging for release when you start tightening again, lewd gasps and moans coming from your spit slicked and ruined lipstick lips. he can’t stand you, can’t stand the way you’re moaning and trying to say his name while having all knowledge knocked out of you over and over again with stabs repeatedly hitting that same sensitive spot with brutal thrusts, hoping your hips didn’t break every time his crashed into yours.

then, a moment of weakness, “am i pretty?” you ask between whines, small and timid like a rabbit. he’s broken out of his current demeanour, tilting his head. mark feared he’d falter, he’d already given you what you wanted by using you like you were nothing but a warm crevice to slide his cock into. you already knew you were pretty, you just needed to hear it from him. needed to hear it from the guy you’d been chasing for months since you’d stumbled upon him, needed to have confirmation that he was attracted to you. his thrusts almost slow down - almost - before he nods, biting his lip to stop the groan that wanted to respond, “y-yeah, pretty..” mark finally mumbles, hips stuttering as the warm coil that tightened in his stomach threatened to snap. you could feel it too, you could feel the way his cock throbbed, the way the head twitched when it pressed against your cervix every time mark canted his hips up into yours, stretching your pussy around him, churning up your insides so they could only think of him. “pretty, really pretty…” he babbles as he tries to keep his thrusts steady, “also p-pretty fucking mean, stupid…” he continues, trying to ignore the way a pleasured shock creeped up his spine and made his legs shake like yours had before.

you were going to cum again, you could feel it. familiar tingles and twinges picking at you before you felt it fully, the mind numbing sensation of an orgasm being fucked out of you again. mark isn’t any better, chasing his own pleasure with his head tilted back steady “hah, hah, hah”’s slipping out of his mouth. working for stuff really was fun sometimes, even if you had to wait a while to get it. you’re lost, back arching up off of the bed with your waist subtly moving in time with his, catching small hazy blinks of him before his face is closer to yours, not even waiting to kiss you. his tongue is bigger than yours, as with the rest of him, completely pushing your tongue away as he kisses into your mouth, muffling both of your sounds as his thrusts became more and more uneven. he’s cumming, hard and fast and with no consideration whether you were on birth control or not, painting your pink walls with his white cum and leaving his mark deep inside you, seeping into your womb with thick globs. you came as soon as he did, dry this time, arms flailing to grab onto his back to anchor yourself. your cunt squeezed around him, trying to milk all of his release into you. you weren’t on the pill but you didn’t care, you could always get that sorted later.

mark didn’t pull out, huffing slightly as he came back to, blinking at your shaking form below him. if it had been porn, he’d feel bad, close the tab and ignore his post nut clarity. this time, even with all of the thoughts in his head telling him that he’d just broken you down, used you like you were disposable, he couldn’t help but feel accomplished. you might’ve won by getting him to fuck you but he’s won the ice cold heart of the mean bitch that’s now laying in her own squirt on his bed, twitching every now and again to show how much you’d enjoyed it. he sighs, shaking his head and pulls out of you, watching for a second as his cum slowly starts to spill out of your aching pussy, ruining his bedsheets even further, “you still here..?” he asks, looking over at you before he’s headed back over to where he’d stripped off all of his clothes, quickly dressing himself back up as he puts his boxers back on, sliding his jeans back up his legs and looking over at your limp body on his bed. you don’t respond with words, only a faint nod, your body still swimming in the warmth that you’d been pushed into by mark. you could feel the way his cum dribbled out of you messily, leaking down your lower half and soaking up the sheets even further.

you’re pulled from your bliss with mark’s words, unexpected and apologetic, “want me to clean you up?” and you melt, nodded with a small ‘uh-huh’ as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him and knocking the sock off in the process. he’d return a moment later, towel in hand with one corner wet with warm water, patting you down gently, stark contrast to how he was just a minute ago. mark wasn’t mean but he’d tried to be nice and nice just wasn’t working for him - wasn’t working for you - so he had to show you how mean he could really be, had to counteract you somehow. you flinched when he started wiping your cunt, hissing when he bumped against your overly sensitive clit with the towel. he muttered a small sorry, drying you up and leaving once more, the sounds of the music from downstairs louder for a second before the door is closed, louder again and then muffled when he comes back with your shirt and bra, tossing it to your side. he avoided your gaze, absently fiddling around with something in the corner of his room, waiting for you to put your clothes back on. you get the memo, pulling your shirt over your head and reaching out for his jacket before you backed away from it, remembering that you’d come here to return the thing.

as you stood up to look around for your underwear and skirt, your thighs twitch as you feel his cum leaking between your legs, trickling down slowly. you could clean up properly later, sliding your panties and the skirt back to where they had left. “look,” he started, turning your attention towards him, “you can have it. just.. bring it back on saturday. there’s another party or something, ask william.” mark turns to you, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. you perk up as you clasp the strap to your heels back on, legs feeling like jelly as you moved to face him. you nod with a smile, eyes bright and sparkling like he’d just told you you’d won a billion dollars, “saturday, same time?” you ask, walking towards the door and resting your hand on the doorknob. mark hums at you, a silent yes. you take your leave, his broken jacket draped over your shoulders again as you make your way to the front door, ready to leave so you could go back to the dorm room you weren’t supposed to live in and sleep the next few days away. you couldn’t wait to party at house 242 again.

mark watched you walk away from the porch, your hands in his jacket’s pockets, the material swallowing you up to keep you warm. he shook his head, once again pinching the skin between his eyes, grabbing himself a clean towel so he could shower and fall asleep to the music that blared underneath him. mark thought he’d had enough of you.

now, he couldn’t get enough.

[crystallizsch]

thinking about jamil traveling alone for the first time but for some reason you’re still constantly on his mind

(i’ve been thinking about this and i just needed to get this out of my system and omg this was just supposed to be shorter but it ended up wayyy longer than intended)

(this is also an attempt at another x reader and it was proofread only by myself. some things might read awkward so go easy on me, i barely write 😔😔😔)

(kind of like a future au??? and can be read as romantic/(queer)platonic??)

Jamil had been planning this trip for months.

He had always wanted to travel to a new place by himself where he didn’t have to worry about anything or anyone else. Just himself and his own enjoyment.

Jamil planned on maximizing this whole trip. Reading everything about the place and making sure to see all the things that he would want to see while he was there.

However, you made sure to let him know that he should let himself loose and enjoy his trip naturally. It was supposed to be a fun, stress-free trip after all. Planning it out entirely defeats the purpose of that.

He needed to embrace a little bit of unexpectedness. You said it was “all part of the fun”. If he knew everything there was to expect, what would be the point in visiting?

Jamil saw what you were saying and admitted defeat. He gave you the benefit of the doubt and decided to have flexible and “loose” plans, as you suggested.

Meanwhile, Kalim had already thrown a whole “goodbye” party for him. Thank goodness that Kalim had gradually learned over the years to be more aware of Jamil’s wishes. They simply compromised on a small and humble party (even though Jamil would have preferred not to have one in the first place).

You came with Jamil to drop him off at the station where he was heading. You both exchanged your usual banter, and you wished him safe travels and for him to have fun especially.

You thought you imagined it, but before he was about to leave, he looked like he was about to say something else. And he definitely was about to. You'd never know what it was though.

Instead, Jamil simply bid you farewell.

As Jamil was walking away, you playfully shouted after him to not forget about you. It was only a joke (for the most part).

Jamil didn’t look back, but you know he rolled his eyes in exasperation. And he certainly did, which was followed by a soft smile on his face that you wouldn't get to see.

━━━━━━✦

Once he reached his destination, Jamil took in the new sights. He breathed in fresh air, his chest feeling lighter and more relaxed.

It felt wonderful that, in this place, he was just another face in the crowd. Nobody knows him. And he knows nobody. Everything was new and unfamiliar and he reveled in that feeling. You were right, it was better to experience these things firsthand as being there felt like a fresh start. Even though he knew that this anonymity would only be temporary.

One of the first things Jamil made sure was to keep his phone out of the equation. He needed to experience everything naturally without having the need to document what he saw as well as the stress of other people contacting him.

Jamil might have partially failed on the latter. He had to have his phone open for emergencies for certain people. Unfortunately, some worries and responsibilities can’t really fully leave him.

━━━━━━✦

Jamil first visited an antique clothing store. It was a charming and unique place filled with different kinds of wear, displays of jewelry and trinkets, and of course, the touristy souvenirs. Those were noticeably out of place, but it was to be expected.

Having experience and knowledge about his own job of being aware of what is around Scalding Sands, Jamil was delighted to know that the majority of the products in this store, at least, seemed to be of genuine quality.

Jamil may have to come back to this place. He thought you would really like that little trinket he saw through the window.

As Jamil strolled through, he was surrounded by a vibrant mix of sounds and colors adorning the streets. Individuals, families, tourists, and locals bustled about. There were even street entertainers as well as vendors who tried to sell him their wares, which was always amusing to say the least.

A catchy melody caught Jamil's attention, and he spotted a breakdancer performing on the street. He thought to himself that he might try out the routine for fun, and he'd ask what you would think. You'd enjoy the performance too, wouldn't you?

Jamil was exploring when he unexpectedly stumbled upon some festivities. It appeared to be the festival he had read about that he hadn't planned on participating in until later. Since he stumbled upon it now, he figured he might as well just check it out.

As Jamil looked around, he noticed a dance circle filled with people of all ages. Friends, families, and couples were all dancing together. He felt compelled to join in. It was as if the lively music and the enchanting atmosphere were inviting him personally, and he found himself dancing amongst the people.

The band played with much fervor, and the people were equally as energetic. Jamil was having fun. He caught himself laughing despite himself, his body swaying to the beat and in sync with the other dancers.

No one was here to judge him. No one to evaluate his front, or tell him to keep up an image. Jamil could easily just be himself. And after everything, he could easily choose to fade back into the background.

As soon as the energy died down for him, he looked back at the crowd. It still held the same energy when he went in, but he was personally spent.

Jamil wondered. If you were there, he might have enjoyed it more with you. That thought slipped through his mind, and immediately went away as it came.

The following days were a bit more mellow but still enriching. Jamil wanted to build up to an exciting finish but it seemed like the enjoyment peaked within the first few days.

The cuisine being served there was particularly fascinating. Jamil entered a restaurant, the aroma of delicious food enticing him in. He ordered dishes at a surprisingly decent price for the amazing quality they were being served. Seeing the way the dishes looked reminded him of how he had been getting better at making his own dishes more presentable. It still wasn't perfect; he could still learn more. He could actually take some inspiration from these dishes.

Jamil planned on researching more of the local cuisine once he returned. Then, he could try some rendition of his own and see what you think, as well as hoping that he could do these dishes justice.

━━━━━━✦

This isn't good.

Jamil felt... lonely?

He shouldn’t be feeling this way. What happened to enjoying this trip by himself?

Against everything Jamil told himself not to, he opened his phone and checked his messages, the majority of which were from people who inquired about his trip. This simply soured his mood. If Jamil had his phone ringing for them, he wouldn't have had a break. Why did he even open up his phone for this?

Oh, he knew why.

Your name specifically caught his eye with a preview of your message. He decided to open it up and he saw texts from you telling him to be safe and to have fun, which were basically the same things that you both exchanged when he left.

In the most recent text, you jokingly asked for him to send pictures, fully expecting that he wouldn’t. Admittedly, you were wondering what he was up to. You had really wanted to come with him but knew he really needed his trip for himself.

You felt a bit selfish sending that text because you knew Jamil shouldn't really be worrying about updating you or anyone else about what he was up to.

You didn't know that as soon as Jamil read that message, he briefly considered humoring you. He thought that perhaps he could take only a few photos here and there just to satisfy you. And then explain what else he had seen and experienced so far.

Jamil started to draft a message to send to you. He’s sure that you’d enjoy hearing all about it, plus it’ll be nice to have someone to share this experience with—

He paused at the thought. He saw that typed all he wanted to share at the moment, his finger hovering over the send button.

Wait a minute. No, no. What was he doing? Jamil quickly erased everything he typed out and shoved his phone back in his bag.

This experience was for him and himself only, at least for now. You’ll just have to wait once he returns from his trip.

━━━━━━✦

If Jamil was to be honest with himself, he had actually initially planned this whole trip with you in mind.

Throughout those months of planning, there was never a moment when he wasn't going back and forth with himself whether or not to include you in the trip.

You didn't know about this, of course. If he did manage to plan this whole trip with both of you, it would have been a surprise leading up to it.

But you yourself drilled into him how wonderful it was that he was finally able to go on a trip by himself. This was his very first opportunity to travel by himself and he doesn't know how long he will have that opportunity again. Perhaps it was your sentiments that finally convinced him that this trip was supposed to be for himself alone.

But deep in his heart, Jamil still felt something missing. He felt some kind of regret and longing that now he could not shake off.

As Jamil brooded to himself, he found himself standing in front of the antique store again. Once again, Jamil caught a glimpse of the trinket he had been eyeing the very first day he had been there.

━━━━━━✦

When you told him to not forget about you, you didn’t mean for him to take it so literally.

Jamil shrugged at the call-out, attempting to look unbothered. He had souvenirs for his family too, so it wasn’t like you were the only person he had on his mind.

But you just know he was embarrassed knowing that most of the souvenirs were meant for you. It was funny but really sweet. You assured him that you’d just return the favor next time.

Jamil really didn’t need you to, but perhaps it’ll also be payback enough for you occupying his mind while he was supposed to be away focusing on himself.

Maybe next time it'll be easier if Jamil would just bring you along.

[chefkids]

I love your meta!!! It’s amazing that you’re still able to identify and connect new things that the rest of us overlooked. Do you have any predictions for next season? Not just with SydCarmy but also any thoughts about where the show may take us

Thank you!

I think a big focus of next season is going to be on their lives intertwining and their families coming together. Season 3 ended with Richie, Nat, Carmy, and Sydney all coming together to open the restaurant and including her in their core group like family. And like Ayo and everyone in the show has said, this is all about chosen family and real family. But I also think a lot of bad shit is going to happen, especially at the very start of the season.

After Carmy practically begging to meet Sydney's dad, I do think Emmanuel and Carmy will finally meet. I do not think he is going to like Carmy at the start. He is very sceptical of their whole arrangement, he knows Sydney quit for a minute and might have heard Sydney talk shit about him. And if he ever finds out what went down on opening night, I don't think he'll be too happy with Carmy. But I do think they will eventually bond and get to know each other, I think including that Sydney's dad was sober from alcohol is going to be a big conversation for them.

I think they were alluding for Natalie having some sort of complication maybe preeclampsia with her shoulder pain. I think she's going to give birth sooner rather than later. Natalie giving birth is going to bring Donna back and is what is going to get Carmy and his mother to finally see each other again after seemingly years apart.

I also think Donna and Sydney will meet. I think Natalie and Sydney are both going to try to get Carmy to at least try to give his mother a chance because they are both much more optimistic and forgiving people than him. I think it's going to cause a lot of tension between all of them because Carmy doesn't want Sydney seeing that side of his family.

Sydney's share/ownership of the restaurant comes back into question. I also think Carmy getting more credit/recognition than her in reviews or press will bother her. I think she will basically say that this place is not really hers. Someone tries to poach Sydney, Carmy freaks out. Sydney starts to consider if it is worth staying if another good opportunity comes along.

Marcus' mom is dead and gone. RIP to that lady. I think grief and how they all deal with it differently will be a big theme. Carmy ignored his grief for a long time and tried to use work to fix things. Sydney and her dad still keep her mom's memory alive but she still struggles with letting others know about her grief. I think Marcus will be letting others help him and be there for him and Sydney will be there for him. I think this will bring back things Carmy about his own grief and how he's still dealing with it.

Luca returns to fill in for him for a bit and emotional support for Marcus. Which I think will also bring us to see Competitive Carmy in full force as goes into Michelin Mode, for Syd's sake. No amusement or enjoyment. I also think this will kinda turn the crew against Carmy as they'll prefer Sydney, they kind of already do. Especially considering she was more involved in training them and in the build than he was. Plus she's just nicer than him.

Sydney will overwork herself and burn out, she won't trust Carmy on his own and will inevitably put a lot of pressure on herself. She's not going to want to quit or stop but Carmy and her Dad will be pressuring her to slow down because she's making herself sick. I think a large focus of Season 3 will be on their energy. In Season 1 it was all about the pressure of money, Season 2 about time pressure, and now they need to find the energy to keep going because they need to make back money in a set time frame. The focus on energy and their internal dynamics between them, rather than external issues like things in restaurant being broken.

Jealous Carmy. When he realizes Marcus likes Syd more than a friend, he's going to view everyone as competition and a threat, even though he's still to scared to do anything about it. I think Sydney will grow closer to Marcus and Richie and maybe even Luca or new guy Connor, not in any romantic way, but it is going to bother Carmy a lot that she never spends any time with him and that they know her outside of work but he doesn't.

Menu overhaul is inevitable, aside from Marcus dishes, most of the menu is not that remarkable and they really need to pull out new interesting ideas if they want a star. I'm sure we will see a lot more of Syd and Carmy actually testing recipes together. Carmy is just not as creative as Sydney when it comes to food, he struggled with the chaos menu. Mostly as Carmy's way to force proximity with Syd when she doesn't want to be around him.

I'm also still rooting for the return of the short rib risotto and the missing acid chaos ingredient. They have to bring it back.

Tina and/or Richie straight up comment on Sydcarmy. I think Tina knows and suspects a lot more than she lets on. She is very observant and protective over Sydney. She's overheard and seen a lot of what has been going down between them. She's going to put Carmy in his place and scare him a little on Sydney's behalf.

Richie on a similar note is going to put 2 and 2 together on what Carmy is feeling and basically tell him to stay away from Sydney because he doesn't want a Claire 2.0 to happen to her and he probably feels like Carmy does not even deserve Sydney in any way and he would just fuck things up for everyone at the restaurant.

Natalie finally says something to him and that's what finally gets him to do something and stop bottling everything in. She never commented on his relationship to anyone except Sydney, and that was more so to get her in the loop and protect her, because she knew Carmy was leading her on while seeing Claire and not telling her. She's going to subtly or not so subtly ask him wtf he is doing. I also think Jimmy fully thought Sydney was his girlfriend.

Fire Suppression System will tested for real with an actual fire. I have a lil theory that Sydney is going to be the one to accidentally start a fire next season. The fire suppression test was all a metaphor for Syd and Carmy suppressing their feelings and the spark/fire that they have. At the end of season 1 Carmy started a grease fire after Sydney quit, because he couldn't suppress his sadness and feelings for her. In season 2 they passed the fire suppression and Carmy decided to declare Claire his girlfriend. They managed to contain their feelings, but eventually they still came out with Carmy and his panic attack. But now I'm sure Sydney is going to be the one trying to suppress feelings because of how everything went down, and I think it will just blow up in her face literally and metaphorically. They spent so much time explaining the fire suppression system and the electrical wiring and the amperage of it all, that I think it's going to come into play again.

Carmy uses Sydney for emotional support without her realizing. When he texted her because he needed her comfort and forgiveness before opening Mikey's note, she didn't know that was what was happening. When he had panic attack and thought of her to calm down he used her for comfort, but she doesn't know all that. I think he's going to tell her or show her that she is his comfort person. I also think we will also see Sydney eventually reach for him for support and comfort as well.

Sydney's catering days and UPS flashback. Please I am begging. We need more of her lore. I think next season will be a lot of seeing her as more independent and being the boss, we only just started to see her at her peak performance in the last episode. I think we'll see more of her evolution, and also her flighty nature. She went from restaurant to restaurant. I think the idea of her leaving The Bear will hang around all season, but she won't leave.

Claire apology then goodbye within the same episode. Sorry to that girl. I think Carmy was already planning to breakup with her after he had the panic attack and the talk with Uncle Jimmy, which is why he freaked out when after he saw her at dinner. I don't think there would be much place for her unless they throw her into some hospital scenes with maybe Nat or Sydney being sick. I think her work here is done. I think she might make other appearances with the Faks. They are close family friends. Maybe she's friends with the elusive Francie Fak that everyone is dying to know what happened between her and Nat.

I think Richie will try to work elsewhere for a bit. He wants to prove that he doesn't need Carmy and that he can succeed without him. I think he'll come back when Sydney asks him to. The situation with him and Tiff feels very 50/50 to me. On the one hand I think it could be him learning to move on from his ex, on the other hand I think Chris and Joanna are all about second chances and I could see Tiff seeing Richie change and wanting to give things another chance.

I also think there's opportunity to see another city like we did with Copenhagen. I'm still rooting for Carmy to take Syd to Noma before it shuts down. I could also see a New York flashback episode with Carmy working at Eleven Madison and Sydney going on her NYC food tour and their whole invisible string coming together.

Not in this season, but The Bear Cookbook will happen. Trust.

And The Psychedelic Musical Episode. A girl can dream. But I do think we'll get another karaoke scene, maybe with the whole crew going out after a shift and just letting loose for once.

[krenenbaker]

Trick or Treat~!

Pairing: Che'nya x Floyd (could be read platonically or romantically)

Summary: It's finally Halloween night, but Floyd is in a bit of a slump. However, the arrival of a curious companion may just make the Halloween party a bit more interesting for him.

Notes: This is my first attempt at something following a prompt - specifically, "Trick or Treat" for the 2023 TWST Rarepair Halloween event. I'm trying to get more comfortable/practiced with writing prose (which is why this wasn't posted on the 30th... oops), and only vaguely ended up following the prompt. I'm fairly happy with how this little piece turned out, though!

Tags: @dove-da-birb, @azulashengrottospiano, @inkybloom-luv, @eynnwwyjth, @officialdaydreamer00 (please let me know if you'd like to be included or excluded from future writing of mine, or only want to be included in specific types of creations)

Floyd wanted to take a break. 

It was Halloween, and all he had done the entire week was work, work, work. Getting costumes ready, decorating, helping with their dorm's presentation, plus cooking and serving at the Lounge, all on top of normal classes? 

Sure, it was fun, especially getting to show off Octavinelle's cool setup, and 'taking care of' those misbehaving visitors. But now? Everything felt draining and boring, and Floyd simply wanted to leave, which sucked because the actual Halloween party had just started!  

Maybe he should just ditch and go back to his dorm; being in a funk when everyone else is having fun around you is not enjoyable.  He slumped down on a bench and unwrapped a sweet he had picked up earlier, before wrapping it up again. Ugh, not even in the mood for that candy he wanted only a few minutes ago. 

As he shoved the sweet back into his pocket and was about to get up from the bench to leave, Floyd heard a rustle behind him. Someone was quietly humming, and… laughing? The sound gradually moved to his side, towards the empty side of the bench.  

“Trick or treat~”

Floyd turned to face the voice. "Listen, man, I'm not in the mood to—” he froze, staring at the figure beside him. “Hang on a second, where's your body!?"

A toothy smile came to the face of the head that currently floated beside Floyd. "Oh, it's here.... or maybe it's there." A pair of hands materialized on either side of this boy's head, followed by the rest of his body. 

“I'm just kidding. Mind if I take a seat? I’d like to rest up before I keep purrowling around and startling people.”

Floyd blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Uh, go for it.” 

This guy was... weird, and it was hard to tell if he'd be annoying, or interesting. "You don't go here, do ya? At least, I’ve never seen you before. And you’re no ghost, either.”

The cat-like boy shook his head, his jewellery jingling softly. "I'm just passing through for the festivities and collecting treats. Scaring some people, too. That’s loads of fun. And it's always nice to see my friends let loose." 

Floyd had a vague memory surface. "Ohh... you must be that RSA boy who's friends with Sea Turtle and Goldfishie." 

"'Sea Turtle' and 'Goldfishie', hey? Those are good names for my green and red friends. Cats are known for liking fish." He leaned forward, his grin growing. “Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Floyd nodded, “Floyd Leech. It's nice to meet you, too.” He looked curiously at the boy beside him, taking in his shaggy hair, piercings, and impish smile.

"You're not what I expected.” Floyd smiled, "But you seem fun, Catfish. I didn't think Goldfishie would get along with someone so... interesting."

Che'nya's eyes lit up slightly. "Catfish? Heh heh heh, most people call me Che'nya, but I guess that works. And I’ve heard some… interesting stories about you, too."

He stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back with his arms behind his head as he sighed. "But yeah, I don't think Riddle could shake me if he tried." 

"I'm almost jealous." Floyd tipped his head slightly. "Most of the time, Goldfishie likes to swim away before I can play with him."

Che'nya laughed, "Well, if you're wondering, he 'swam off' that way." He pointed off to the side. “Just don’t be rough with him. I don’t like people mistreating my friends.”

Floyd looked off into the crowd where he had pointed, and let out a small laugh. “Alright, good to know. Maybe I’ll find him later, if I feel like it”, he smiled and sat back. “And Goldfishie’s stronger than he looks, but I guess you’d know that.”

Che’nya nodded, then leaned closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I bet we could do something that would really surprise him.” 

Floyd turned slightly towards Che’nya, and flashed a smile. “Yeah, we probably could. I think we should talk more in the future, Catfish. You seem pretty fun.” 

Che’nya grinned, “You seem pretty fun, too.”

"Well,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I think I’m going to go and find some more treats… and play some more tricks tonight. I'll catch you around, Floyd." 

With a haunting giggle echoing in his ears, Floyd watched as the boy beside him faded into nothingness, just the same way he had arrived. 

What a weird guy.

Floyd unwrapped the candy he had pocketed earlier, then popped it into his mouth. Maybe this party was worth staying at after all.

[ghostly-omens]

Anyway Quackity was one of the people on DSMP who was most involved in and invested in lore. Las Nevadas and the Butcher Army and the Red Banquet and everything with L'Manberg. He clearly loved telling the story he wanted to tell and playing on a roleplay server.

But a lot of creators have pointed out that the most fun they had on the server was when they were doing improv, when they were reacting to things that happened and building the story naturally that way. When things got scripted, when creators had to come up with and write and execute their lore basically on their own, when it stopped being playing and started being acting, that's when you got players disengaging and losing interest and motivation. By the end, literally every bit of lore was scripted. Most of it was prerecorded just so it could end up telling a complete story, instead of starting a dozen plot threads that had to be abandoned when the other people involved didn't answer your DMs or the big lore day that was meant to move the whole server's story along didn't happen. The last big, whole-server lore event only happened because Technoblade was dying. Communication was so bad that was the only thing that could get everyone to get organised enough for a single day of lore, a story event that had been set up for months.

And so when Quackity comes up with his own server, he wants it to have a strong roleplay element (if that's what the other creators involved end up wanting). Quackity loved his roleplaying on DSMP. But he wants it to be fun for the creators as well as for the fans, and the way lore was fun on DSMP was for it to be improv, not for it to be creators acting out a script. But things got scripted because once they set up a story, it had to escalate in a specific way in order for it to be narratively satisfying, which made it less fun. A single arc is fine, but things just won't work for more than that without at least a loose script. By the end DSMP wasn't roleplay, it was acting. Some creators managed to tell satisfying stories, but it wasn't the same as when it was a bunch of friends messing around doing Hamilton Breaking Bad improv because it was fun. The DSMP, for a good chunk of its life, was not fun to play on. So people didn't.

But how do you set up satisfying, coherent stories over a long period of time while also maintaining the fun roleplay element? Someone needs to guide them and develop them, but it can't be the creators on a server if you're going to keep the fun roleplay element.

Hence the admins, and their role not just maintaining the server, but in developing and guiding the story. Their role is basically a GM, in tabletop roleplaying terms, and the creators get to be player characters roleplaying in reaction to that. Creators don't know much more than we do; how many times have creators said they don't get told shit, have they been told to log on and been faced with huge big developments they didn't see coming and have to figure out how to roleplay that? QSMP works kind of like Dungeons and Dragons but in Minecraft. Keeps the story consistent and escalating, without the need for creators to sacrifice their own enjoyment of their content.

I don't know how stuff like Karmaland works, maybe Quackity got it from there. But as a former Dream SMP fan, I see Quackity taking the best part of DSMP and finding a way to make it work for something a lot more sustainable and ambitious, keeping it fun and enjoyable for both fans and creators.