#divider credit: @/strangergraphics

[maybejj]

social media au

╰┈➤ GOSSIP GIRL: Outer Banks - jj x pogue!reader

╰┈➤ FRACTURED TIES - jj x kook!reader, rafe & jj are brothers

╰┈➤ CRIMINAL LOVE - rafe cameron x college!reader

╰┈➤ TOO HOT TO HANDLE: OBX - jj x reader, rafe x reader

╰┈➤ SET ME FREE - jj x sarahs!twin!sister!reader

╰┈➤ TWIN FLAMES - baby!daddy!rafe x pogue!reader

irl stories

╰┈➤ The Beginning of Us - babydaddy!rafe x sweetheart!reader

blurbs/one shots

╰┈➤ this is my turf - barry x female!dealer!reader

╰┈➤ make him beg - ex!fiance!rage x ex!fiance!reader

[cybersunnie]

operation mistletoe

With a mistletoe, RAFE CAMERON can do just about anything.

includes fem!reader / soft!rafe / fluff / established relationship / brief conflict / petnames ("baby") / safe for minors to read! / wc 951

When you came home from work tired and in a pissy mood, all you wanted was some peace and quiet. 

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, had different plans. 

Rafe thought attacking you with tickles would be a good way to greet you. He had done it before. You laughed, the sound shrill and bouncing off the walls. And he got a laugh out of it, too. No harm, no foul. What could go wrong this time? Especially since it was the holiday season—all cheer and festive?

Everything, apparently. 

You knew he had good intentions when he pounced on you the moment you stepped inside, his fingers tickling your sides. But instead of letting out a chorus of laughter, you snapped at him. You could tell he was caught off guard, the grin on his face faltering as you told him to stop and muttered how annoying he was under your breath. The hurt that flashed across his face stung, but you didn’t take it back. You wished you had, though. 

Now, you were curled up on your bed.

Neither of you had spoken a word to each other after that, not even a glance, and you were sure it was killing him as much as it was killing you. Sure, it had only been ten minutes, but underneath all your anger was someone who just wanted her boyfriend.

You felt the bed dip behind you. Rafe cleared his throat.

“Baby?” 

You stared hard at the wall. It was nice to hear his voice. “What?”

As he moved closer, you felt the space between you shrink, the warmth of his body engulfing yours. Every part of you wanted to fall into him, into his embrace. Maybe you should.

“Look at me.”

“No,” you mumbled, not bothering to turn your head. The wall was more interesting to look at.

You heard Rafe fail to stifle his scoff. He was probably clenching his jaw, too. You were aware that you were being unreasonably stubborn. But you knew, for you, he would be patient—at least, he would try to be patient. Always.

“Don’t be like that,” he spoke gently. “C’mon, my arm’s gonna get tired.”

Good. You hoped his arm got tired. 

Wait, why would his arm get tired? What was he doing?

A frown formed on your face, and your ever-growing curiosity made you roll over.

You didn’t see anything out of the ordinary at first. But then your gaze followed up his raised arm, and you saw that he was holding a mistletoe above the two of you. Where did he—? Your eyes darted to the doorway of your bedroom. The mistletoe you had hung there weeks ago was gone. 

Oh, this motherfucker. He was clever, you would give him that.

With raised brows, he shook the mistletoe. “Y’know what that means.”

“Rafe,” you groaned, running your hands over your face.

“We have to kiss.”

You splayed your fingers to peek at him and saw his face was closer than before. For a split second, your mouth curved into a smile. You were in love with an idiot. 

“We don’t have to.”

He smirked. “Tradition says otherwise.” 

That made you sigh. He wasn’t going to give up, was he? 

Your hands dropped from your face, and you glanced at the mistletoe. It was just there, taunting you. Kiss, kiss, kiss! Still, you didn’t move. But Rafe inched closer, and you watched how his gaze skimmed over your features. He looked at you like you were everything he wanted and more. You were made for me, his eyes screamed. 

Your stubborn act buffered. You couldn’t resist any longer. You leaned in, too, your cheeks on fire.

He exhaled, almost like he was relieved you had relented, and locked his lips with yours. You had kissed him countless times before, yet he still had you burning as if it was your first. His free hand slipped to cup your jaw, his mouth moving with yours, communicating to you in a language only you two understood. This was more than just your boyfriend stealing a kiss from you while you were mad at him.

You were the first to part, your lips brushing his for one last taste before reeling away. When your eyes fluttered open, any lingering irritation there was gone.

Rafe lowered his raised arm, letting go of the mistletoe to hold your face. His nose bumped into yours as if he were going in for another, but he held back, sucking in a breath.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he muttered, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Really.”

You shook your head. 

“No, I’m sorry. I was in a bad mood, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” you said, your voice sweet and smooth like honey. “You’re not annoying.”

He squinted just the tiniest bit. “Nah, I can be pretty annoying.”

You gaped at him as if he had insulted you. It felt like he did. How dare he doubt your words. 

“That’s not true,” you insisted, wrapping your fingers around his wrist.

Seemingly unconvinced, Rafe hummed and tilted his head forward until his forehead touched yours. He had to be fishing for compliments. Then you saw his lips twitch as he fought back a grin. That told you enough. He was definitely fishing for compliments.

You narrowed your eyes. “You trying to pick a fight with me?”

“Fuck, no,” he breathed out, laughing.

And then Rafe kissed you again, a hand cradling the back of your head, and your lips melted against his. He moved to hover above you, his body caging you in, and chuckled into your mouth. You did the same. 

This was the peace and quiet you needed.

sunnie speaks! happy holidays my sweethearts! i had sm fun writing and i hope you enjoyed reading!!! 🎄🩵 let's chat about rafe cameron!

if you like my work, consider following @sunniefics to stay up to date on all my future fics!

[pinkrottenpony]

ethel cain ( aka hayden anhedönia ) † ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[midorimooon]

Keigo does a double-take the first time he sees you in red lipstick. 

It’s not a tame shade of red either. It’s vibrant, attention-grabbing, lustful…emphasizing the petals of your mouth that the most perverse thoughts bulldoze Keigo’s mind.  Compact mirror in hand, lipstick in the other, you look up. “Keigo?”

He taps his own lips, unable to look away from yours. “That’s new.”

You pout, unsure. “Trying a new color. I don’t think it looks good on me, though.”

Keigo begs to differ. So drawn to your lips, he takes your chin. “Look at me.”  It’s out of character for him to be this silent even when appraising your appearance. Usually, he pampers you with charming words and flattery, because you always look more than good to him. He’s your number one fan after all.

These red lips—leave him speechless. 

He can’t find the right words to say, because no word in existence could covey what it’s doing to him. How his pulse races, how every drop of blood travels south. And how badly he wants to ruin you, right here, right now. 

Instead, his touch ghosts your lower lip. He gulps, admiring how the lipstick bleeds onto his thumb. 

Your smile unfolds around his thumb, privy to what he’s asking for. You pucker your lips, sucking gently.

Immersed, Keigo’s jaw falls loose.

Slowly, you pull back with a faint laugh. “Almost time for you to head out?”

Keigo sighs. He’s due for a late-night patrol soon. It’s a shame he won’t be able to admire those red lips for longer. "Yeah, better get going."

“Wait.”

His confusion is short-lived when you take his face in your hands and reel him in for a deep kiss. 

You litter more kisses along his face, jaw, and sneaking a few to his neck. 

When you pull away, your lipstick has faded, partly smeared around the corners of your mouth. “Wanted to take it off before you left.”

Later that night, he touches base with another pro hero, who once-overs the red imprints all over Keigo's face. “Hawks...you didn't hook up with someone on patrol just now, right?"

Keigo grins wide, proud to display the marks you left on him. “Just a run-in with my number one fan.”

[agardenofbasil]

“you’re easy to love.” + pedri/ferran (ferran says it) thank you ❤️

A little angsty...

Ferran told them this is a bad idea. 

Somewhere out on the dance floor are their other teammates, who are finally letting loose after weeks of games and practices and media responsibilities. One weekend of rest before they have to gear up for the next La Liga matches. Hansi Flick warned them to be careful but otherwise, the world is theirs. And Ferran had every plan to be on the dancefloor with them, to think of anything until he saw Pedri at the bar. 

Ordering another drink. 

“This is a bad idea,” he warned Fermin, who ordered Pedri’s first drink and swore up and down that he’d keep an eye on him. Because Ferran remembers what happened in Berlin.

History has a way of repeating itself, Ferran thinks as he watches Pedri drain the glass.

“Everyone else has someone except me,” Pedri slurs.

“No. Half the team's single.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why don’t I have anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Ferran sighs. “Maybe because you stay  at home and play with your dog all day?”

Pedri makes a face. “Is that a euphemism?”

“That’s the truth.”

“Can I get another-”

“No,” Ferran cuts in, looking the bartender dead in the eye. “He’s had enough.”

Another face. “I can decide when I’ve had enough.”

“Pedri.” Ferran shakes his head at the bartender, who, having seen God, walks towards another patron.

Pedri folds his arms, but stumbles forward. Ferran catches him swiftly, straightening him up even though the midfielder is still mad. “You have it easy,” Pedri insists. “You can… be tall.”

Ferran tries not to laugh. “What?”

“You’re tall,” Pedri yells, eyes bright like it’s the first time he’s noticed his height. 

“That’s not-”

“You could get anyone you want! I message one girl on Instagram and I get ghosted after five messages. What gives?”

Ferran swallows the hard lump in his throat. “I can't get anyone I want,” he grits out. 

“Then it's me.”

“It's not.”

“Maybe I'm too hard to love.”

“Stop.”

“That has to be it, right?”

Here we go. Just like Berlin.

“Pedri, you’re not-”

“There has to be!”

It’s not fun anymore. Being here. It’s worse than Berlin, where Pedri was moping about his leg. This time, Ferran’s watching Pedri slide straight into the hell that is self-doubt. 

Wait. No. Pedri’s literally sliding.

The midfielder’s head thumps against Ferran’s chest.

“For fuck’s sake-”

“I’m always alone.”

Among the noise, Pedri’s words send a chill down Ferran’s spine.

“Do you really feel that way?” Ferran asks. Pedri doesn’t answer. “Can you hear me?”

Still no answer.

“Dumbass thought he could handle three drinks. Idiot. Dumbass.”

Silence.

“You’re easy to love.”

Nothing. 

“Loving you is so damn easy. I would know. Been doing it for years.”

Pedri mumbles, and his head digs heavily into Ferran’s sternum.

“What?”

“I said, can we go home?”

Ferran tightens his arm around Pedri's shoulder, the same way his chest tightens when Pedri’s phone lights up from another Instagram notification. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

...but good news, you get a full Ao3 version. Hope you enjoy. 🍃

[deltatxt]

Story Idea: Assassin’s Creed - Sugar Baby AU (EzioAltDes)

I got the idea for a Sugar Baby AU about four days ago, and it has rotted my brain spectacularly since. Below is a quick summary of the AU, but under the cut will be the background information, the main trio's occupation and backstories, and the actual outline.

Since it's about ~5k words total, I'll be more or less dividing them into sections (just like my Ego Sum Qui Sum work) for each chapter/mini-arc of the AU.

Feel free to use this idea and/or outline!

WARNING: This AU includes mentions of child death (Federico & Petruccio) and child abuse (implied with Altaïr, explicitly stated for Desmond). While not graphic, these themes are present. Additionally, IX. The Ultimate Test features Ezio struggling with his mental health. Please skip or click off if any of this makes you uncomfortable.

Summary:

Ezio Auditore is broke, exhausted, and entirely too stubborn for his own good. Between law school, commissions, and barely making ends meet, he doesn’t have time for handouts—especially not from two annoyingly rich bastards who think they can sweep in and take care of him.

Altaïr and Desmond, unfortunately, have other plans.

Ezio resists. He really does. But then it’s their coffee in his hands, their jacket around his shoulders, their apartment he keeps finding himself in. One day, he wakes up and realizes he hasn’t paid for a single meal in weeks. He should be horrified.

Instead, he just feels warm.

Or: Ezio tries to resist being spoiled. He fails spectacularly.

AU INFORMATION

If you end up using this, feel free to change the title, but I've been calling it "Spoiled Sweetly (to my blissful doom)"

Modern AU (No Assassins, Templars, or Isu/First Civ).

Altaïr and Desmond are already in an established relationship by the start of the story.

This story is meant to span from Ezio's sophomore year to the start of his junior year (2nd Year to 3rd Year of University).

For the sake of the AU, Bad Weather (the nightclub Desmond canonically tended to) is a luxury location where the rich and wealthy gather.

I placed a timeskip between parts IX and X!

BACKGROUNDS

Ezio's Background

Law student, 2nd-year/sophomore, barely scraping by.

To make ends meet, he takes on odd jobs and art commissions, inspired by how he painted targets in canon.

The Auditores aren't exactly wealthy, but they get by.

However, when Ezio was young, a violent incident (break-in? mass murder?) took the lives of his father and brothers, leaving his mother in shock.

With no financial stability, debt collectors, loan sharks, and all kinds of opportunists swarmed them.

Maria, who was a housewife, had no means to fight back, and Ezio and Claudia were too young to do anything. They lost everything.

Maria fell ill from grief, and Claudia followed soon after.

Ezio tried his best to take care of them—worked odd jobs, bargained, and more,

But it wasn't enough, and he was all alone.

He was placed in the foster system, bouncing between orphanages and bad homes until around 16.

He fought tooth and nail for an early emancipation, managing to also get lucky enough to get a university scholarship early, even with the sub-par orphanage-provided schooling.

After managing to save up and get his own apartment, he worked odd jobs with terrible pay and dealt with awful commission clients just to afford rent and groceries.

Altaïr's Background

Runs a VIP security service that caters to high-profile clients, former military, and the elite.

People find his personality generally unappealing or difficult to deal with, but he's in high demand because he's just that good at his job.

He was born into what was essentially a cult that worshipped god-like figures (inspired by the Isu/First Civ, though they don't exist here.)

The cult's leader, Rashid, took him under his wing after his father died.

He was raised under strict, militant discipline—trained from childhood to be ruthless, efficient, and detached, resulting in a variety of scars—including one on his lip.

At 13, he met Desmond Miles, a runaway escaping his father, William Miles.

In usual Desmond fashion, he challenged everything Altaïr had been taught, managing to shift his perspective on the world.

Somewhere along the lines, he ended up leaving the cult with Desmond.

Altaïr ended up landing a job as a bouncer at a bar where he gained a reputation for being brutally effective.

His skills eventually caught the attention of legitimate security services, leading to a job offer in private security.

Over time, he saved enough money and built enough connections to start his own security company.

He and Desmond had spent years making allies on the streets who desperately needed jobs, and so those were his first hires.

Desmond's Background

Highly successful bartender serving celebrity clients and high-profile figures with information dealing as a side job.

Extremely charismatic with a wide social network—a keeper of secrets too. People talk when they drink, and Desmond makes sure to note things down for later use.

Born into a private military family with high expectations—his family has a long line of sergeants.

As the only son of William Miles, a high-ranking officer, he was pushed to his limits from a young age.

He was trained relentlessly, sparred constantly, and lived under strict discipline.

At 13, a sparring match with a live blade went wrong, leaving him with a scar on his lips.

Deciding that was the final straw, he ran away, eventually crossing paths with Altaïr.

He landed a job as a waiter at a bar, the same one where Altaïr worked as a bouncer, and quickly worked his way up over the years, eventually becoming a bartender.

He steadily climbed the ranks, moving from small bars to high-end clubs—Altaïr always close behind, of course.

Eventually, get managed to get an exclusive event bartender gig, leading to more elite events and connections with the wealthy and the powerful.

As a bartender, he hears a lot of confessions, knows things he legally shouldn't, so if someone needs information or a connection, Desmond is the go-to guy.

OUTLINE

I. Coffee & Coincidences

Desmond and Altaïr are on a rare, private date at a cafe.

Ezio, meanwhile, was rushing to class, having stayed up to finish an essay that was due the night before.

It’s actually Desmond who bumps into Ezio, though the coffee spills on Altaïr’s coat.

Ezio stares for a moment because that coffee had been a luxury—a little reward for himself after surviving back-to-back lectures and all-nighters to finish a commission.

- He had spent minutes justifying the expense in his head before ordering - He didn’t have a budget for another one. - But that was his problem, not theirs.

Ezio starts apologizing, offering to cover the dry cleaning even if he knows he’ll have to cut on his already meager grocery budget to afford it.

But Desmond is amused at the notion,

- “You gonna foot the bill for that, pretty boy?” - “I spilled it,” Ezio shot back, crossing his arms. “I’ll pay for it.” - “You sure? Because this coat isn’t exactly cheap.” - Ezio scowled, “What, you think I can’t afford it?” - Desmond grinned. “Oh, I know you can’t afford it.” - Ezio's eye twitched. - Altaïr sighed.

Introductions happen (reluctantly on Ezio’s part). Ezio doesn’t recognize them at all, though that’s not a surprise.

Desmond waves the incident off, and when Ezio tries to protest, Altaïr steps in and tells him to let it go,

- Ezio was suspicious. - But he was also late for class. - “Fine,” he muttered, grabbing his bag. “But this isn’t over.” - Desmond chuckled. “Looking forward to it, baby.” 

The pet name doesn’t register as Ezio rushes out.

Desmond is entertained, Altaïr is unimpressed, and Ezio has unknowingly marked himself as their newest obsession.

II. "Accidental" Encounters

Ezio never believed in fate—life had never really given him any reason to,

But when he started running to Altaïr and Desmond again—and again, and again—he should have been suspicious.

Instead, he mostly just felt annoyed,

- “You again?” - Desmond smirked. “You sound happy to see me.” - “Forgive me," Ezio scoffed. "I’ve had a long day.”

He runs into Desmond at a cafe after getting groceries,

- Desmond subtly prods questions at him, though he doesn’t realize. - "You get all your meals from here?"

Then Altaïr is at the library while he’s studying a case for his Criminal Law class.

Then, at a bookstore, while Ezio was struggling to justify buying a secondhand law textbook (that still cost way too much!).

Then at the university gym (Altaïr was apparently an expert at hand-to-hand combat and had an irritating way of critiquing Ezio’s form).

Then at a vendor’s stall (Desmond buys a meal and smugly offers to split, the bastard).

Ezio isn’t stupid. He notices the pattern,

- “Are you two following me?” He finally demanded after yet another ‘coincidental’ meeting at a bus stop - Desmond snorted. “That’s an interesting accusation.” - Altaïr, frustratingly enough, didn’t even blink. “Do you really think we have the time for that?”

Ezio hesitates because it's not like they had a reason to stalk some broke law student. But it's still weird as hell.

Desmond just laughs and says it's fate, Ezio counters by saying he doesn’t believe in it, and Altaïr just cryptically says maybe he should.

If Ezio had been paying attention, he might have noticed the way Desmond leaned in slightly.

Or how Altaïr’s smirk held something more than just amusement.

But he wasn’t…

Oh well.

III. The Soft Sell

It starts small.

Desmond started showing up to the cafe (suspiciously always at the same time Ezio did), getting to the cashier first and conveniently ordering one extra coffee,

- “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ezio scoffed the first time Desmond held it out to him. “I can pay for my own coffee.” - Desmond raised a brow, “Then pay me back later.” - Ezio narrowed his eyes, “I will.” - “Sure, pretty boy,” Desmond drawled, sipping his own drink with far too much amusement. - Ezio grumbled but took the coffee.

Next, it was Altaïr at lunch in the library,

- Ezio just stared at him. “You can’t be serious.” - “You don’t eat enough,” Altaïr said, utterly unconcerned. - Ezio scoffed. “I eat plenty.” Altaïr didn’t even look up from his book. “You eat whatever is cheapest and smallest.” - Ezio bristled. “That’s not—” - Altaïr finally met his gaze, sharp and knowing. - Ezio clenched his jaw. - “This is not charity,” Altaïr said simply, pushing the food closer. “Eat.”

Ezio barely recovers before the next ‘coincidence’ happens.

This time, Ezio’s walking home from university—it was getting late, which was dangerous considering where Ezio lived.

Then a sleek black car pulled up beside him, the window rolling down,

- Desmond, grinning far too smugly, leaned against the steering wheel. “Need a ride?” - Ezio exhaled sharply through his nose. “I am perfectly capable of walking.” - Altaïr flatly scanned the dark, empty streets. “Sure.” - Ezio crossed his arms. “I don’t need saving.” - Desmond smirked. “Who said we were saving you?”

And it keeps on happening, over and over.

The thing is, Altaïr and Desmond never pushed or forced anything. They just… became a constant. A presence that became normal.

Ezio should have resisted harder, really, but every time he moved to argue, they would argue, deflect, or just plain ignore his protests,

- A well-timed reminder that he wasn’t eating enough. - A teasing remark to make it feel less like charity. - A casual offer for something he hadn’t even realized he’d need.

Yeah, Ezio was losing this metaphorical war.

IV. Desmond Plays the Long Game

Ezio had always been stubborn—it was both a blessing and a curse because it kept him going when most would have folded, but also made him terrible at accepting help.

He had a habit of brushing off kindness, of turning down offers even when he clearly needed them.

Desmond found it infuriatingly endearing.

So he did what he did best—he observed, learned, and most importantly, he waited.

He started picking up on the little things,

- The way Ezio tapped his fingers against the table when he was lost in thought - The absent-minded way he ran his hand through his hair and tugged when he was frustrated - The quiet sighs he let out when he was too tired to keep his guard up

Most people wouldn’t notice, but Desmond did, so he started to intervene.

Desmond starts dragging Ezio into late-night walks, started by a casual text at odd hours,

- Desmond: You up? - Ezio: Unfortunately.

They never have a destination in mind, sometimes ending up at a 24-hour cafe, other times, they just walk.

Ezio talks about anything and everything during these, and Desmond, ever dutiful, listens.

He gets attached, naturally, because underneath the exhaustion, beneath the snark and stubborn pride, Ezio was brilliant.

One night, after yet another exhausting day, Desmond invites him over to the one he usually tends to—Bad Weather,

- Desmond: Come by Bad Weather. You need a drink. - Ezio: I can’t afford Bad Weather. - Desmond: I didn’t say you had to. - There was a long pause before Ezio finally caved.

Desmond didn’t think he’d show, but Ezio just rolls his eyes and accepts the drink Desmond poured for him without thinking.

The bar’s full of rich and powerful people, so Ezio feels a little out of place,

- Ezio glanced around the bar, brows furrowing slightly, “I feel like I should be wearing a suit just to be here.” - Desmond chuckled. “Please. Half of the people here inherited their money and have no idea how to spend it. You actually work for a living. That’s worth more than their net worth combined.” - “That’s a dangerous mindset for someone who makes money off of these people.” - “I don’t take their money. They give it to me.”

Then, Desmond prods about law school, causing Ezio to start ranting,

- “So, tell me. How’s law school treating you?” - Ezio groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t even get me started.”

Desmond slides more drinks to Ezio as he talks. A few drinks in, and he was looser, his usual sharp edges softened.

Desmond keeps him talking about schoolwork, his workload, his art commissions.

He files every little detail away.

Then, casually—too casually, really—he asks,

- “What if you didn’t have to worry about money?"

Ezio laughs, thinking it's a joke,

- “What, are you offering to sponsor my education now?”

Desmond doesn’t correct him.

V. Altaïr Pushes Buttons

Altaïr, unlike Desmond, took the opposite approach.

He engaged Ezio in a battle of wits and endurance, a game neither of them would ever explicitly acknowledge but would play anyway.

And Altaïr, much to Ezio’s frustration, was really, really good at challenging him.

It starts subtly, with a few questions here and there,

- “Explain this case to me,” Altaïr said, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. - Ezio, naturally, rose to the occasion. “Which part?” - “All of it.”

Ezio would huff, but his eyes would spark as he picked the case apart piece by piece.

Altaïr would listen and absorb every detail, then poke holes into Ezio’s reasoning, questioning him and countering the logic.

Ezio thinks Altaïr’s just being difficult, but then he’d see the subtly curl of Altaïr’s lips when Ezio found a way to counter his arguments, something almost like approval flickering in his expression.

And Ezio thrived.

It becomes routine, the late-night debates over cases, philosophy, or even finer points of morally gray areas.

They argue for hours until he’s exhausted, slumped over a table but grinning,

- Altaïr, the smug bastard, always looked perfectly composed in contrast.

Somewhere in the mix, Altaïr starts pushing Ezio’s boundaries in other ways, too.

Sometimes, Altaïr would slip a casual Arabic phrase or word, and subconsciously, Ezio starts picking up on their meanings.

Ezio doesn’t realize he’d been absorbing it, just nodding along and responding until one day, when Desmond called him out,

- “Since when did you speak Arabic?” - Ezio blinked. “What?” - Desmond gestured lazily. “You just responded to Altaïr in Arabic. You even said it right.” - Ezio turned to Altaïr, eyes narrowing. “You planned this.” - Altaïr just looked at him, perfectly neutral. “Did I?”

Then there would be the meals, surprisingly enough.

A moment where Ezio forgets to eat—not intentionally, of course, but with everything going on, he just… forgot.

Then, suddenly, Altaïr places a plate of food in front of him,

- “I’m not hungry,” Ezio muttered, glancing back at his notes. - Altaïr didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just said, calmly, “Eat.” - Ezio scowled. “I said—” - But something in Altaïr’s tone made Ezio hesitate. - Altaïr simply watched him. Unmoving. Unyielding. - Ezio glared for a few more seconds. Then, with a quiet huff, he picked up the fork. - He ate.

VI. The Unravelling

With all that had been going on in the whirlwind of Ezio’s life, it made sense that he didn’t notice at first.

When Desmond paid for dinner, Ezio barely batted an eye now. Didn’t argue, didn’t reach for his wallet, didn’t even register the exchange until he was walking back home.

He brushed it off, told himself that it would just be this once.

But it happened again.

This time it was at the cafe he frequented—Ezio walked into the building where Desmond was already waiting, rubbing his temples after a brutal lecture, and Desmond just… slid a cup to him.

And Ezio automatically took it. Didn’t even realize until half of the cup was empty. Ezio opens his mouth, but Desmond beats him to it,

- “Don’t even start.” -Ezio narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t say anything.” -“You were going to.” - Ezio scoffed. “You don’t know that.” - Desmond raised a brow. - Ezio huffed. He took another sip, muttering under his breath. “Bastardo.” - Desmond just grinned. “Love you too.”

Then there was Altaïr.

Ezio hadn’t commuted anywhere by himself in weeks.

He just started expecting to see the familiar sleek, high-end car idling at the curb at the end of university.

One day, Ezio just reaches for the passenger door handle before even registering what he was doing.

It happens again while Ezio is studying.

Now, he expects Altaïr to have a snack or meal waiting for him every time he stops by the library.

Absentmindedly reaches out to the container before he even sits down because his stomach is growling.

But the breaking point happens on a cold night outside a restaurant.

All three had just finished dinner, Ezio halfway through a debate with Altaïr about some case study, while Desmond stepped away to handle the bill.

A cold wind rushes past, making Ezio shiver, then Altaïr shrugs off his coat—the same expensive one he had spilled coffee on when they met all those months ago—and drapes it over Ezio without a word.

Ezio barely reacted, only pulling the coat around himself tighter as he kept talking.

It wasn’t until they were halfway towards the car that it hit him—the already paid bill, the warm and heavy coat, the car waiting at the curb.

Oh.

- Ezio froze mid-step. - Desmond glanced over his shoulder, “You good?” - Ezio stared at the coat. Then at Desmond. Then at Altaïr. - “…I’m getting spoiled.” - Desmond smirked. “Finally noticed?” - Ezio opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked genuinely horrified. “No. No, no. I— I am not—” - Altaïr raised a brow. “You are.” - “I am not,” Ezio insisted. “This—this is just—you offered—” - Desmond snorted. “Uh-huh.” - Ezio turned to Altaïr, desperate. “Tell him he’s being ridiculous.” - Altaïr’s face was perfectly neutral. “He’s not.” - Ezio looked betrayed. “You—You are both ridiculous.”

Altaïr and Desmond exchange a knowing glance.

And that’s when Ezio realizes that they weren’t going to argue or fight him on this, not because he’s wrong but because—

- They were waiting. - Waiting for the inevitable. - Waiting for him to give in. - Waiting for him to realize there was no way out of this. - Ezio’s heart pounded. - He was losing.

VII. The Breaking Point

Ezio’s day had been shit.

It started with his exam results—he had worked hard, studied until his eyes burned, and poured hours into preparation.

But when the grades were posted, his score wasn’t what he expected.

It wasn’t a failure—not even close. In fact, he had done well,

But it wasn’t enough (not for his standards anyway).

Yet Ezio was still Ezio, so he clenched his jaw and decided not to think about it.

Then came the commission.

He had been counting on it—rent was due soon, and his budget was already spread thin,

But the client backed out with the excuse of finding another artist who could do it for cheaper, despite already agreeing to Ezio’s rate.

He swallowed down the frustration and sent a polite response, even though his hands ached to throw something,

And then, just to really twist the knife, his apartment’s heating broke.

The landlord? Useless. Maintenance? Busy. Earliest it could be repaired? Next week.

- Ezio sat on his bed, wrapped in his thin excuse for a blanket, and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. - Just for a second. - Just to breathe.

Then his phone buzzes, and as Ezio is staring blearily at the screen, he realizes it's Desmond,

Desmond: Dinner. No Arguments

Ezio hesitates, because he should say no. He should stay in, tough it out, and deal with it like he always did.

But he was cold, tired, and the thought of being in his freezing apartment all alone made something in his chest curl tight.

So he puts on a sweater and goes.

When he steps inside Bad Weather, it's the warmth that hits him first.

Not just the temperature, but the atmosphere—the low hum of conversation, the scent of food and liquor, the way Desmond looks up from behind the counter and immediately smiles,

- “Hey, gorgeous.” - Ezio scoffed, shaking off the cold. “Don’t start with me.” - Desmond just slid a plate across the counter. “Your usual.” - Ezio paused. Looked at the food. - Hot, fresh, and exactly what he would have ordered.

Ezio should argue. Insist on paying. But he’s too tired, too cold

So he sits and picks up the fork,

- “Altaïr’s here, by the way.” - Ezio barely had time to register that before a heavy warmth settled over his shoulders. - He stiffened and turned his head. - There Altaïr was, draping a thick, expensive-looking blanket around him like it was the most natural thing in the world. - Ezio blinked. “What—” - Altaïr said nothing, instead pressing the edges into place, making sure it was snug around him. - Ezio’s throat felt tight.

He wants to fight it. To push it off—to pretend

But he doesn’t. He just sinks into it, lets it happen.

Lets himself be taken care of.

VIII. Indulgence

Now that Ezio has finally caved, Altaïr and Desmond stop trying to be subtle at all.

Fancy clothes? Bought. Expensive sinners? Scheduled. “Random” gifts? Constant.

Ezio protests, of course, but it’s half-hearted at best now

One night, they catch him in a sweater Altaïr bought him and a watch Desmond picked out.

Another night, Ezio just steals Desmond’s drink and a piece of meat from Altaïr’s plate.

One minute he’s complaining about his old laptop—how the battery barely holds any charge, how the fan sounds like it’s dying, how he lost an entire legal brief because it crashed mid-save

Next thing he knows, he’s being dragged to some high-end electronics store by Altaïr and Desmond,

- “Guys,” Ezio protested, digging his heels in, “I don’t—” - Desmond just slung an arm around his shoulders like he was a particularly stubborn shopping cart. “Come on, baby, just look around.” - Ezio scowled. “I don’t need a new laptop.” - Altaïr, who was already heading to the premium section, didn’t even glance back. “Yes, you do.” - Ezio sputtered. “I already have a laptop!” - “You have a relic,” Desmond corrected. “That thing belongs in a museum.”

Before they can argue further, Altaïr just hands him a brand new laptop—top-of-the-line. Sleek. Expensive. The kind that costs more than three months’ worth of rent,

- “What the fuck.” - “Consider it an early graduation gift,” Altaïr said, tone utterly impassive. - Ezio was a sophomore. - He gripped the edges of the box like he was considering throwing the damn thing. “I hate you both.” - Desmond grinned, “Love you too, baby.” - Ezio groaned, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “You absolute bastards.” - Altaïr just sipped at his coffee.

Following that, they drag him to a designer boutique of all places.

Ezio, of course, takes one look at countless racks of stupidly expensive clothes and tries to turn around and leave immediately.

Desmond catches him by the back of his sweater,

“I am not doing this.” - Desmond just grinned, way too pleased with himself. “Pretty boy, you are doing this.” - “No.” - “Yes.” - “No.” - “Yes.” - Altaïr—who had been watching the exchange with all the patience of a saint—finally stepped in. “Ezio.” - Ezio gritted his teeth. He knew that tone. That specific tone meant ‘stop fighting and accept your fate.’ - Ezio narrowed his eyes. “You planned this.” - Desmond didn’t even have the decency to deny it. “Yeah, kinda.” - Ezio groaned. “I hate you both.”

He ends up with an armful of clothing anyway.

At some point, Desmond shoves a leather jacket into his hands, and it fits. It fits ridiculously well. Too well, even.

Because it made him feel like he belonged here, in a world of luxury and excess, with Desmond and Altaïr.

It made something in his chest twist,

- Desmond stepped closer, adjusting the collar and smoothing out the sleeves. His fingers lingered at Ezio’s wrists, his voice softer. “Just take the damn thing, baby.” - Ezio swallowed. - For once, he doesn’t argue.

IX. The Ultimate Test

Ezio doesn’t mean to push them away. Not really, but the thought, once it appeared, refused to leave his head.

But as he stares at his reflection, wearing new clothes and spotting the new laptop sitting on his bed, some unpleasant thoughts start to make themselves known.

A whisper at first, then a murmur, and now a constant, vicious snarl in his head.

- What the fuck are you doing, leeching off of two guys who are happily in a relationship? Clinging to them like you belong? - The thought was unbearable.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. But the thought won’t leave him alone.

They had each other before he even came into the picture. They would be fine without him. Have been fine without him.

So what the hell is he doing? Why is he letting them take care of him like some helpless pretty thing?

Ezio is just… there. Their charity case. Their idiot, stray law student that they’ve inexplicably decided to pamper, and for what? What does he bring to the table? What does he give them?

The answer is obvious.

Nothing.

So Ezio stops.

He decides, in the only way he knows how, that he’s going to prove to himself and them that he doesn’t need them. He digs in his heels and stubbornly refuses everything.

For the first three days, it isn't so bad.

Desmond swings by his apartment to pick him up for class. Ezio tells him he’s already on his way (A lie—he takes the subway and hates every second of it).

Altaïr hands him a coffee when they cross paths on the way to one of his odd jobs. Ezio shakes his head, feigning indifference. (The caffeine withdrawal headache kicks in two hours later.)

They try to buy him lunch, and he refuses.

They ask him about dinner, and he makes up some bullshit excuse.

Desmond and Altaïr watch him. They don’t push, but Ezio can feel their gazes, sharp and considering, like they’re waiting every time they just so happen to come across each other.

By the fourth day, Ezio is flagging.

The subway is miserable. The coffee withdrawal is worse. He’s eating the bare minimum—whatever he can scrounge from his apartment or afford on his own.

It’s familiar and lonely and stupid. So stupid.

But the thought of giving in—of crawling back with his tail between his legs—is unbearable.

By day five, he’s pushing through on sheer willpower alone.

He’s exhausted. His body aches. His assignments pile up. He doesn’t sleep because there’s too much to do, and the lack of proper food is starting to get to him.

But he can do this. He doesn’t need their money or their stupid fucking kindness. He doesn’t need—

He doesn’t mean to pull an all-nighter, but the legal brief he’s working on refuses to cooperate, and before he knows it, the sun is rising and he hasn’t slept at all.

He’s sluggish, thoughts slow, and the only thing keeping him upright is sheer force of will.

He goes to class running on fumes, doesn’t hear a single word of the lecture, and stumbles back to his apartment in a haze.

And then, somehow, Desmond is there,

- Ezio blinked, sluggish and barely comprehending as the door swung shut behind him. - Desmond is standing in the kitchen, completely at ease, a bag of takeout on the counter.

The smell of food hits him like a punch to the gut, stomach cramping angrily, all the while Desmond looks at him with knowing eyes,

- “Hey, baby.” Desmond’s voice is too soft. Too knowing. “Rough couple of days?” - Ezio stiffened, his grip on his bag tightening.  - Don’t fold. Don’t fold. - “I’m fine,” he rasped, pushing past him. “Don’t need—” - His stomach growls. Loudly. - Desmond snorts. “Yeah. Sure.”

Ezio’s vision blurs for a split second as he grits his teeth, exhaustion making his body sway, and then Desmond is there, steadying him and guiding him into a chair before he can protest,

- “Sit down,” Desmond murmured, nudging the takeout towards him. “Eat.” - Ezio swallowed. His throat felt tight. His hands clenched uselessly in his lap. - “I hate you,” he croaked out. - Desmond just smiled, brushing his knuckles against Ezio’s cheek. “I know. Eat, baby.” - Ezio picked up his fork with shaking hands and took a bite. - It’s over.

The first swallow nearly undoes him. The second makes his vision blur. The third—

Fuck.

Ezio makes a broken noise before shoving his sleeve against his eyes, before the tears can fully spill over.

But Desmond sees. Of course he does.

And suddenly there are arms wrapping around him, pulling him close, his head tucked against a broad chest, and—

- “Shh, sweetheart,” Desmond murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” - Ezio gripped the front of his hoodie with shaking hands, unable to stop the way his body folds in.  - He doesn’t sob, not quite, but the tears don’t stop, and when a second pair of arms wrap around him from behind, Ezio makes a choked sound - Altaïr’s voice is quiet, firm. “Enough of this, Ezio.” - Ezio swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I just—” - “You are not a burden,” Altaïr cuts him off. “You are not an inconvenience.” - Desmond tightened his hold. “You’re ours.”

It’s not fair how they make it so easy to fall apart.

They hold him, firm and unyielding, as Ezio lets the last few days break him.

When he stops shaking and the tears finally slow, he sags against them, wrung out and exhausted,

- Desmond pressed another kiss to his hair, voice warm with affection. “Better?” - Ezio sniffed, rubbing at his sore eyes. “No.” - Desmond snorted. “Liar.” - Altaïr hummed, a rare note of amusement in his voice. “We’ve let you suffer long enough.” - Ezio scowled weakly. “Didn’t let me do anything.” - Desmond flicked his ear. “Yea, okay, baby.” - Ezio groaned, but it’s softer now, the fight bleeding out of him. Fuck. He hates them. He hates them. - (He doesn’t. He never could.)

He isn’t getting rid of them, no matter how hard he tries,

- “You’re not getting rid of us,” Desmond murmured, his voice dropping into something quiet, something unshakable. “Stop trying.” - Ezio closed his eyes, breath stuttering. - “Okay,” he whispered.

Ezio doesn’t move for a long time.

He eats.

He lets them hold him.

He’s theirs.

X. Sweet Surrender

Ezio should feel victorious.

He thinks he’s entitled to feel some sort of sense of accomplishment. After all, he lasted longer than anyone (not that there are others to compare to).

A year ago, he had snarled at the mere suggestion of letting anyone, least of all two disgustingly rich bastards, take care of him.

Three months ago, he had been dead set on resisting.

Now?

Now Ezio’s sitting in the passenger seat of one of Altaïr’s many cars, wearing a jacket Desmond bought him, with a new phone in his pocket holding a cup of coffee he hadn’t paid for.

Desmond was in the driver’s seat, humming under his breath as he cruised comfortably through town towards their apartment (Because that was a thing now, Ezio having moved in over the summer).

Altaïr was nowhere to be seen, having gone into some high-end restaurant to pick up their food.

Takeout because Ezio had refused to go inside and sit at a table where the cheapest thing on the menu cost more than his entire (old) grocery budget,

- “…I’m getting spoiled,” Ezio muttered. - Desmond snorted. Didn’t even look at him. "You’re just now figuring that out?" - Ezio glared. “I didn’t say it was a good thing.” - "Didn't say you did." Desmond’s lips twitched, his smirk sharp enough to cut. “But you're sitting in Altaïr’s car, drinking my coffee, waiting for our boyfriend to bring you dinner." - Ezio choked. “You two are not my—” - "You’re wearing the jacket I bought you, with the phone Altaïr picked out, and you haven't paid for coffee in weeks." Desmond tossed his phone onto the dashboard, turning to him with an obnoxiously satisfied grin. "Face it, baby. You’re ours." - Ezio scowled. "I hate you." - Desmond reached out, smooth and lazy, like he’d done this a hundred times before, and tugged Ezio in by the collar of his jacket, pressing a kiss to his temple. - "Love you too, baby," he murmured against his skin.

He’s happier. Healthier. More comfortable in his skin than he’s ever been.

Ezio still insists on paying things when he can, still glares when Desmond or Altaïr swipe their cards before he gets the chance.

But nowadays he lets it happen, lets them take care of him.

There’s a moment, one lazy afternoon, where it truly sinks in.

He’s sprawled on the couch, half-asleep, head pillowed on Desmond’s lap while Altaïr sits at the other end, reading.

Desmond’s fingers are in his hair, absently combing through the strands, and Altaïr’s hand rests against his ankle, warm and grounding.

Ezio sighs, sinking further into their touch. He doesn’t fight it. Doesn’t argue.

He doesn’t need to.

Because, for once in his life, he doesn’t have to do it all alone.

Because he is theirs, and they are his, and that is more than enough.

Wow, this was long, haha. I went a little wild in IX. The Ultimate Test... I really like writing and reading angst, okay?

I have a few ideas for a spin-off and possibly a sequel, though nothing as concrete as this outline. Let me know if you'd like to see that too!

[kawoala]

HOWDY! welcome to meeya’s diner. while you figure out what to eat, what can i get you to drink?

𝐵𝒰𝑅𝒢𝐸𝑅𝒮 ; fandoms.

haikyuu!! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $.50

my hero academia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $.75

𝒮𝐼𝒟𝐸𝒮 ; situation.

send in any situation you want . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $.01

𝒟𝑅𝐼𝒩𝒦𝒮 ; relationship tropes.

best friends to lovers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . matsukawa issei.

enemies to lovers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . sugawara koushi.

strangers to lovers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . fumikage tokoyami.

nerd x jock . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . suna rintarou.

black cat x golden retriever . . . . . . . . . . . . . . shoyo hinata.

exes to lovers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . kenma kozume.

roommates to lovers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . kuroo tetsuro.

forced proximity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . tanaka ryuunosuke.

workplace romance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . atsumu miya.

rockstar x groupie . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . sakusa kiyoomi.

brothers best friend . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . iwaizumi hajime.

→ the back of the menu.

i. how to rq ; order a burger (a fandom/character), then pick the side (a situation—can be whatever you want) that comes with it. all that’s left is to pick a drink (a relationship trope). ALSO, lmk if you want it smau or traditional! ii. FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE. once a trope is chosen, the trope is closed ; it cannot be requested again. iii. will try to get them out as fast as possible!

[jils-things]

COMMISSION BY @beeholyshit WKWKWKWKWKKWKKDKKD BEST DECISION I EVER MADE 😭😭😭😭💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 WKWKKSKKKKK WHEN I TELL UUU I WON'T SHUT UP ABT NORTO.NS TROUBADOUR SKIN THIS IS THE MANIFESTATION OF IT😭😭💚💚💚💚💚 HES SO GORGEOUS IN GREEN EHEHEHEHHDRDHDHFGHFHD WAAAAAGHGGGHFGH

[velisle]

merry christmas! 🎄🎁✨ can you brainrot a little (or a lot…?) about darius in the answer to this ask? :3c

aww thank you for the sweet ask anon! ⁠♡

major spoilers, theories, yapping utc

ɪ. ⋆.˚🪞 ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ 🪽⋆ ˚｡

omg you don't know how badly i want to run my fingers through his hair. i mean look at this?!

no, do not get distracted by that stupid smile. focus. on. the. hair. it looks so SO fluffy. i just wanna mess it up and get it to cover his eyes or brush back his bangs and smoooch his forehead!!

also want to make him wear one of these ↑↑

he'd be the cutest boy in veli town.

moving on to the face... his cheeks are squishable material. meant to be pinched and pulled at as he does to ours. i need to nuzzle my cheek against his. wait that's almost like pet behaviour...

cybird give him a pouting sprite WHEN??

I think it's pretty much established we all want his fur coat for ourselves. he looks sm prettier without it anyway <3

ɪɪ. ‧₊˚ ☁️ ʜᴏʙʙɪᴇꜱ + ꜰᴏᴏᴅ🍦ּ ֶָ֢.

now this looks like hell to solve but i'm low-key considering getting a milk puzzle cus of him...

crack hc time: dari drinks a cup of milk every night before he goes to eep. i'd say he dips a few cookies in it too. but he doesn't like dry food such as biscuits... altho maybe it'd be bearable to eat since they'd be more soaked?

on his card it says that he likes food that's difficult to make or obtain. and in the recent jp event, he's stated that one of his favourite food is mille feuille glacé.

on the other hand, we also find out somewhat why he doesn't like potatoes: apparently he's eaten them so much (in his past presumably) that he's sick of them, and never wants to eat them again. yes he literally says this.

which leads me to my very self indulgent theories about his past. it's pretty clear he comes from a well-to-do family, such as he knows proper table manners (but purposefully ignores it), wears luxurious clothes, choice of weapon, had his birthday celebrated a great many times etc.

perhaps there was a figure who forced him to do things, such as eating potatoes (there'd be no reason for him to force himself to eat it unless there was nothing else left to eat) and confining to the rules of nobility. so maybe eating messily is his way of rebelling and showing he has more control over his life now?

ɪɪɪ. 𓍢ִ🦢⋆˚ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ 🩰 . ݁˖

he's clearly a two faced character. even if someone hadn't played ikevil, you could tell there's something fake and off-putting about him, his actions, the way he speaks. especially his voice.

there's often themes or analogies to a child made in his content when it comes to his behaviour. ex: pouting, tilting his head, resting his chin on a hand, pinching kate's cheeks, drooped head and shoulders when he's 'sad'.

like a child, he does things on a whim, simply because he wants to for his own pleasure. he doesn't care much for other's opinions.

quite a few times, you'll notice "rewards for good children" and "punishments for the bad ones" being brought up in his bond stories, voicelines, events, etc. I'm not sure if this will be lost in translation when it comes to EN server or if they'll go a different direction with it. again i feel like this all comes back to his past with his family.

he's lowkey giving yandere vibes like elbie and ellis too. has jokingly mentioned about wanting to send kate to germany on a couple occasion but bro, i don't think it's a joke anymore.

in regards to the way he keeps labelling non cursed people as "humans"... i think it could be because he's very alienated or distant with his own emotions. he's not able to put a name to the feelings kate makes him feel. warmth, compassion, love, so rawly human. he constantly speaks about humanity as a whole, as if he's excluded from the rest, as if he's not one of them.

anyway thank you to anon for giving me an excuse to ramble about my favourite :3

[emmemmelyn]

Hello!

My name is Emmelyn but you can call me Emme for short! I'm 26 years old. I discovered reality shifting and shifted for the first time on May 16, 2021. Not too long after I discovered the law of assumption but it wasn't until a few months later that I started applying what I learned about the law of assumption in my life and consciously manifesting.

I hope you enjoy your stay here♡

[maybejj]

CRIMINAL LOVE PART 1

♥︎ masterlist ♥︎

SOCIAL MEDIA AU AND IRL, 18+ MDNI

rafe cameron x college!reader

warnings: mentions of stabbing, mentions of drugs

summary: With your last semester of grad school breezing by, you felt like you could sleep through the next couple of months and still graduate at the top of your class. You only had to get through 3 more months until you walked across the stage and rightfully earned your Master in Criminal Justice degree. All your hard work would finally be paid off. Until your professor hits you with one last assignment that will make you question everything. The assignment? Prisoner Penpals from the State of North Carolina Correctional Facility. Your penpal? Rafe Cameron. His sentence? Life without parole. His crime? First degree murder.

Part 2

Notes: welcome to part 1 of criminal love! if you read closely I’ve thrown in a little easter egg from my gossip girl series, if you catch it let me know! these stories are not at all connected, just having some fun! also Barry from outer banks doesn’t have a last name so I kept the actors actual last name. i’m super excited for this story so let me know what you think so far! thank you for reading as always 🫶🏻

taglist: @marleymarleymarleymarley

[deeranon]

The Secret Language of Mondstat

I believe this flower fits you perfectly.

A rose?

Yes.

Do you know what a rose represents in Mondstat?

I don’t believe I do.

They represent the saying ‘as wine bottles are corked, so too my lips are sealed.’

I see.

Then I believe I do not deserve this rose.

But you do.

To me, you shall always deserve it.

@idkfitememate Furina thoughts are coming back to haunt me. I might just draw this post later.

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀⠀°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ twenty6 | afro-latina | navigation below

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝑴𝒀 𝑺𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑻𝑼𝑨𝑹𝒀 𓇢𓆸

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀about me | personal tags | selfships °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ masterlist | rules

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓇢𓆸 𝑪𝑼𝑹𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑳𝒀

ೃ watching — nothing at the moment.

ೃ reading — 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥. 𝘣𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳

ೃ listening — ateez & beyoncé

© 2024 do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost (sharing links to support is okay) anywhere. I only upload on tumblr, and you'll also find my work on AO3 under eiflawriting.

[mysticum-draconis]

𝕀𝕞-ℍ𝕠-ℍ𝕠-ℍ𝕠-𝕋𝕖𝕡

Happy 92nd anniversary to The Mummy (1932)!

I drew this in December last year, using the anniversary falling so near Christmas as an excuse to draw Im-Ho-Tep in a Santa hat, because why not? I love drawing the OG Monsters out of character 🎅

This also gave me a chance to try and make a “sketchy” piece of art, as I have a habit of turning all my drawings into marathon projects that take hours, and not just quick, efficient sketches. This drawing still took longer than I intended, as I decided to change some details last minute, but I managed to do the face and outline quicker than usual at least. I also got a chance to practice using my Lyra brush pens for once, which was nice.

“Im-Ho-Ho-Ho-Tep” came to me when I was about halfway through the drawing. I am still exceptionally pleased with myself for coming up with that, and was very smug at the time 😂

HB and 3B graphite and mechanical pencils and Lyra Aqua-brush duo pens on 160gsm paper.

Process photos below cut.

Please don’t use or repost here or on other websites without credit or permission, thanks 🙏

Divider: @/strangergraphics

[agardenofbasil]

Happy valentines ❤️ can I request ferranpedri and "i'll help you change" 🤭🫶

This is probably going to be extended and posted to Ao3 at some point. I hope you enjoy this little bit first.

Ferran knows something’s wrong by the 75th minute. 

Why is he still on the grass? Why isn't he asking to come off?

Probably for that stupid MVP recognition. Which, of course, Pedri nabs. Was there any other choice?

Pedri applauds his teammates. There's not a single trace of discomfort in his features, even when he takes his jacket off for the post-match interview. Yet, throughout it, the midfielder keeps his arm at an awkward elevation. 

Ferran has seen enough. He walks into the locker room and waits. 

Pedri is the last to come in. Everyone else is already in the showers or getting whatever post match treatment they need after Sevilla tried to break their legs. And no doubt de Jong and Lewan are trying to keep Fermín level headed. 

It's just him and Pedri. 

“Hey,” Pedri says breezily. 

“Your arm,” Ferran comments coolly. It's enough to make Pedri stop. 

“It's not bad. It'll be bruised tomorrow. That's all.”

“Can you move it?”

“Yeah.” But he winces while opening his bag.

Ferran gets up.

“I'm okay, Ferran.”

“You're not. I should've talked to the ref.”

Pedri shrugs. “He wouldn't have done anything.” When Pedri tries to take off his kit, his face mangles with pain. 

It's the final straw for Ferran. 

“I'll help you change.”

Pedri doesn't fight him. Just sits on the bench, tired from it all. “Okay.”

Ferran starts with his peds, unlacing and pulling them and Peri’s socks off. He unwraps his shin guards, taking care to put them into Pedri's bag. The right guard has his family’s names etched into them. 

There's only one name on the left guard. 

Ferran guides Pedri's arms up. “Hurts?”

“No. It's just my forearm.” 

Ferran grasps Pedri’s kit and pulls up. A quick glance at Pedri’s left arm reveals nothing, but Ferran knows better. Pedri doesn't bruise quickly; it will take hours for his tan skin to go that ugly shade of black and blue. And it's going to hurt. 

When he looks away from Pedri’s arm, he sees the midfielder is back to being rosy cheeked. “What? It's not like I haven't seen this before.”

“Saw it all last night, didn't you?”

The comment is so un-Pedri like that Ferran’s anger is nearly absolved. “Are you flirting with me in public?”

“Maybe.”

“Ass. I'm helping you change.”

Pedri runs his hand through Ferran’s hair. “Thank you.”

Ferran nods. The way Pedri pets him… Ferran’s no fucking knight in shining armor. Undressing Pedri is purely selfish on his part. He can only stay away for so long, can only go so long without needing Pedri’s heels digging into the small of his back, needing Pedri panting in his ear.

But then Pedri does this. Looks at him with gold eyes and nothing short of gunfire in the way it pierces through him. And then Ferran realizes he’s never bothered with the armor. Not when it’s Pedri.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

Pedri takes his chin. “You should help me shower too.”

Ferran grins. 

[tsukkilody]

a bit of clabbacchio's angsty lore ♡

note: heavy spoilers for jojo's bizarre adventure golden wind

they never considered dating, having feelings involved could only complicate stuff taking in mind their line of work and how dangerous it is, there were way more important things than a relationship to take care of.

they had some sort of fwb situation and only bruno was aware of it (and probably giorno too since he's very observant).

maybe it only was occasional sex to de stress from their frenetic lifestyle in the mafia, always hard and lustful eager for each other's bodies. but the moments after doing it, entangled between the other's arms, caressing their bare skin, too lost in the moment to properly think about how actually intimate it was, made them wonder how things could be if they found themselves in different circumstances as normal people, these thoughts always unspoken, always locked up in the deepest nooks of their heart.

then what the whole gang most feared happened...would it hurt even more if the two of them actually took a chance with each other before all of this? they'll never know, but the pain is unimaginable anyway.

even in shock claudia couldn't suppress the tears streaming down her eyes as she held abbacchio's dead body, there was the distant sound of narancia's screams but she couldn't make a word of what he was saying, the ringing in her ears too loud to acknowledge anything that was happening around her, she didn't take in how bruno told them that they had to keep moving forward, she just wanted to hold him and don't let go, she kissed his lips again and again, talking to him "leone...I love you, I've always loved you, damn... don't die ! you'll be okay ! we'll be okay !" pure denial. they had to drag her away from him.

it should have been me those were the only words resonating in her mind for a while after the incident.

sometimes claudia wears abbacchio's lipstick, she's afraid of wasting it and not having anything left, but she can't help it, makes her feel like he's close, like their lips are melting together once again.