#face looks a bit odd but it always does when I draw

[detective-piplup]

working on an au and got a decent Apollo idea down

complimentary sillies too

[rafesfavgirl]

with a broken heart — r. cameron

part 1. something a little more lighthearted to make up for breaking y'alls hearts :)

series: every few lifetimes

❝ i was grinning like i'm winning  i was hitting my marks 'cause i can do it with a broken heart ❞

pairing: ex-bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after getting your heart broken, you pack your bags and leave the obx, only to come face to face with rafe again, eight years later.

words: 2.4k+

warnings: rafe and reader are aged up (26/27), old flames, FLUFF

"now remember, this client's a big prospect," your boss says as you follow him out of the office car and into the building you were scoping out today. "i guarantee if you can close this deal, you'll be well on your way to becoming the next junior partner."

"hank, are you serious?" you stop in your tracks and he looks at you. 

when you first left the outer banks for new york, you went to nyu without a clue on what you wanted to do with the rest of your life. somewhere along the way, you graduated magna cum laude and pursued law school at columbia. your first year, hank took you on as an intern, and by the time you graduated, you had a job lined up for you at one of the biggest real estate agencies in the world. and though you knew how well you did your job, becoming junior partner as a second-year associate was way beyond where you thought you'd be—it was nothing short of a dream come true.

"don't think what you've done for this company has been lost on me, y/n," he tells you. "you're an asset. i knew it since that first summer i took you on as an intern."

a smile comes across your lips. "well, i can't disappoint," you say. "let's close this fucking deal."

"that's what i like to hear, come on," he continues leading you through the building, until the two of you reached a tall guy with a buzzcut wearing a navy blue suit scoping out the place.

"mr. cameron," you don't miss the familiar name when you and your boss stop behind him, your breath hitching when the guy turns around to greet you both. "this is-"

"y/n," your name rolls off rafe's tongue the same way it always did, your heart beating so hard you feared it'd jump out of your chest.

hank's eyes shift between the two of you, as he shakes rafe's hand. "you two know each other?"

"yeah," rafe nods, his eyes set on you—he couldn't believe that you were actually standing in front of him. a part of him thought that when you left the obx he'd never see you again. "we uh— we went to high school together."

"well that's wonderful," hank smiles. "no need for the awkward introduction then."

except— it was awkward. you didn't just go to high school together. you fell in love in high school. and two months before you chose to go to nyu, rafe broke your heart.

"y/n here will be the one walking you through the contract, and hopefully setting you up with one of our best architects," hank explains to him, while you continue trying to process the fact that he was actually here.

what were the odds that he was the client you needed to win over in order to make junior partner? 

—

"so, does that all sound good to you?" you finish going over the contract for the building and look at rafe.

the two of you hovered over a table in the empty space that you'd spread out all the documents on.

"yeah, y/n, it all sounds great." the smile he throws your way makes your stomach turn in the worst way—making you realize that the piece of your heart that never stopped beating for him still existed. "where do i sign?"

"uh— right here," you pick up your pen to draw x's on all the lines he had to sign on, before holding it out to him.

he takes it from you, and you watch as he leans over to sign on each and everyone of them, your eyes trailing over how well his suit fit him.

he must hit the gym at least four times a week, you thought. he's grown quite a bit since you last saw him.

"there you go," rafe hands the pen back out to you, and you take it from him with a smile.

"thank you," you say. "you won't regret it."

"oh, i know," he nods, eyes scanning over your face. "i'd never regret anything that involves you."

you feel the heat rise on your cheeks, but you keep it professional, gathering the files on the table back into your folder. "well then, i'll leave you with the contacts of our architects and if you have any further questions, you can reach out to hank or any of the other executives."

"yeah, okay," he replies, hiding his disappointment in the fact that you didn't tell him to contact you with any questions he may have.

"it was a pleasure doing business with you, mr. cameron," you hold out a hand to him for a handshake and he stares at it for a second, before reluctantly placing his hand in yours.

"it sure was," he smiles. "but you know you can just call me rafe, don't you?"

"this is how i address all my clients," you tell him. "it's just the professional thing to do."

"yeah, yeah, i get it," he nods. "guess i'm just not used to it coming from you."

you crack a smile at his somewhat nervous stance—you weren't used to seeing him this way. "it was nice to see you again, rafe. good luck with everything."

"yeah," he grins. "you too."

you turn to walk away, while rafe stays back, scratching the back of his head in contemplation before calling out to you. "hey y/n?"

"yeah?" you ask, stopping to look at him again.

"you got any plans tonight?"

"rafe, i-"

"oh, come on," he cuts you off, slowly closing the distance between you two. "there's no reason we can't be friends, right?"

wrong—there were many reasons. one being that you spent years piecing yourself back together after he decided to give up on you. 

"let's catch up," he persists, his blue eyes locking with yours. "get a drink with me tonight."

despite your head screaming no, you agree. "one drink," you say, causing a smile to spread across his face. "ten o'clock. meet me at the bar on fifth."

—

the second you walk into the bar, rafe rises from his stool at the counter and waves you over. he had gotten there 30 minutes early to make sure you weren't left waiting for him—you'd done enough of that.

"hey," he seems nervous when you reach him, wiping his hands on his slacks before reluctantly wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

you resist the urge to giggle—it was kinda entertaining to see this six-foot-two tall man get nervous around you—and briefly return his hug.

"have you been here long?" you ask, taking off your jacket and taking a seat in the empty stool beside him.

"nah, just about five minutes or so," he lies, shrugging and giving you a lopsided smile, as the bartender walks up to greet you both.

"anything i can get you?" she asks, eyes lingering on rafe for a little longer than you.

"just a glass of whiskey for me," rafe tells her. "neat."

"and i'll just have a glass of pinot noir," you say, when the girl turns to look at you. "thank you."

"and you can just put it on this," rafe reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, and you cut in. "rafe, you don't have to-"

"nonsense," he shakes his head at you and slides his black amex across to the bartender. "i invited you out. it's on me."

the bartender picks up his card, and gives him a smile. "rafe cameron. i'll remember that."

subtly, rafe rolls his eyes and you hold back a snicker. "please don't."

the bartender huffs as her eyes shifts between the two of you, but walks away without another word to get your drinks and charge rafe's card.

you kink a brow at him. "you get bartenders flirting with you a lot?"

"i guess it happens every now and then," he shrugs.

"it's definitely the buzz," you tell him, as a different bartender brings over your drinks and hands rafe back his card.

"thank you," he briefly acknowledges him, before turning his attention back on you, an amused smile on his face. "you think?"

"yeah," you nod, bringing your wine glass up to take a sip. "it makes you look older— more mature. it suits you."

he cracks a smile, a small chuckle slipping out from between his lips. "and being a lawyer suits you."

"you really think so?"

"yeah," he nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey. "you looked so cute all dressed up in your little suit," those words make the heat rise on your cheeks, and you hide it with your wine glass. "i've never seen you more in your element. what made you choose law?"

"well…" you trail off, wondering whether or not you should tell him the truth. oh, fuck it. "after we broke up, i found out got into nyu. i was so… mad and hurt over you ending it that i packed my bags and i left, without looking back. during the summers, i stayed here and worked internships with the school just so i'd have an excuse not to go home."

he listened intently, a look of indifference falling across his features. a part of him was hurt at hearing that he'd broken your heart so badly you felt the need to leave, but the other part was proud. you really did that. figured your shit out and made a life for yourself—just like he always knew you would.

"after my second year, i worked an internship with a property management company in brooklyn. we scoped out places all around the city, and i don't know… i kinda just fell in love with it. seeing how happy people got when we'd found them the right apartment or the right space for them to start their business just made me feel really good. so i declared real estate as my major junior year and decided on law school," you continued.

"doll, that's amazing," he smiled, blue eyes twinkling. "which law school did you go to?"

"columbia," you reply, his eyes only widening in amazement. no words could describe the amount of pride in his chest right now. "but enough about me. what about you?"

"oh— uh…" he started and set his whiskey down on the bar. "after you left, i went to rehab. went in and out of that place for about two or three years… i mean, you knew how bad it was— wasn't easy."

you frown upon hearing his struggles with rehab and relapsing, but nod along as he continues.

"been clean for about four years now though," he shrugs, as if it wasn't some big accomplishment.

"rafe, that's amazing," you tell him, setting your glass down on the bar. "good for you."

"i had to," he nodded. "not only for me, but for dad, too. he was starting to talk business and expanding the company, and i just… i couldn't let him down. especially not after i let you down."

you glance down, no longer being able to meet his eyes. you knew that your past together had to come up at one point, you just weren't ready for it. mainly because even after all this time, there was still that little piece of your heart that never stopped belonging to him. it would always be his. "rafe…"

"i hope i'm not being too forward when i ask you this but…" his hand reaches out to touch yours, and you look up at him. "are you seeing anyone?"

"no, i'm not," you shake your head. "after we broke up, i didn't really date much. and even when i did, nothing ever really stuck."

that was enough to have a smile crack across his his, eyes brighter than you'd seen them in a really long time. "guess that makes two of us."

"guess so," you shrug, thoughts running through your mind a hundred times a minute as you try to find a way to change the subject. you weren't ready for where this conversation was about to go. at least, not yet. "but, uh— tell me about cameron development, how's that going?"

he chuckles at your eagerness to change the subject, as you sipped on your wine, but goes with it. he'd break you down again. eventually.

—

after finishing your drinks at the bar, rafe offered to walk you home since your apartment was only about a block or two away, assuring you that he'd just get a cab back to his hotel afterward.

and while a part of you screamed at you to say no, that little piece of your heart that still beat for him won over, and you agreed.

"well, this is me," you say, stopping in front of your apartment complex and looking at him. "it was really nice to see you, rafe."

"so that's it?" he asks, catching you off guard. "this just ends here?"

he takes a step towards you, making your heart pitter-patter, as his eyes scanned your face.

"rafe-"

"don't you ever wonder…" he cuts you off, his gaze lingering on your lips for just a moment before his eyes shifted to meet yours. "what we could've been? what we could be?"

"i-"

"i know i fucked shit up with you, a'ight?" he said, hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

the gesture threatens to make your eyes flutter close at the feeling of his familiar touch, but you keep your composure.

"i was young and i was stupid, and i thought you deserved better," he continued. "but y/n, there isn't a day that has gone by in the last eight years that you haven't crossed my mind. i think about you all the time, just hoping for the day you'd finally come back to the banks."

your breath hitches at his confession, that tiny piece of your heart that held onto him, growing three sizes.

"i know i don't deserve a second chance, i know that," he told you. "but i'm not the guy i was back in high school. i'm clean now, and i've turned my life around. i can be that guy for you now. the one you needed me to be all those years ago."

"okay," you whisper.

"what?" he musn't have heard you right.

"i'd be lying to myself if i said i haven't thought about you either, rafe," you say.

a small chuckle falls from his lips, which spread into a smile. "seriously?"

you nod. "come pick me up at seven tomorrow. let's give it a chance."

part 3 coming soon!!

i'm rooting for them tbh

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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[frost-queen]

Elements in Harmony (Reader x Sokka)

Requested by: Anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @iixchloee

Summary: Reader is Zuko's sister. You and Sokka always argue and fight. You keep infuriating Sokka as you won't leave his head, something he can't stand. Certainly not from a fire nation girl. When one encounter leads to an almost kiss. It draws a line when some guy starts flirting with you, leading to Sokka to show you just how infuriating you are to him.

Appa roared deep, flapping his tail up. Aang petted his furred friend as Momo sat on his shoulder. Katara was poking in the fire to keep it going. Sokka arrived with new wood. His gaze fell upon you from afar. Near the cliff were you practising. Performing graceful moves without actually bending. Your performances calm and at peace. Anything but what Sokka was used to seeing a fire bender do.

Mostly their sequences were brutal and hard. Their fire filled with anger. You seemed odd among them. Anger wasn’t what filled your bending. It was a combination of being soft and tough at the same time. Something your uncle Iroh taught you when you were younger.

Sokka threw the wood on the ground, startling Katara. – “Hey.” – she called out annoyed.  – “Sure let us prepare the fire while princess fire nation over there is just dancing.” – Sokka outed gesturing at you. Katara sighed loud. – “Can you only ever complain?”

Sokka grumpily sat down on a log. Glaring your way. Aang approached them holding a bag open. – “We’ll need to stock more food.” – he held the bag upside down. A fruit fell out as Momo immediately jumped for it. Sokka shooed Momo away, picking up the last fruit. – “And that isn’t for you!” – he called out to Momo who flew above his head. Katara got up holding her hand out to Aang. – “I’ll go see if a town is nearby.” – she suggested.

“No, no.” – Sokka answered getting up as well. – “Let fire girl over there do something.” – he pointed at you from afar. – “Her name is Y/n.” – Katara answered crossing her arms. Sokka came closer to her. – “and I don’t care.” – he outed with a sarcastic smile. Sokka whistled loud catching your attention.

You stopped your practise, making your way over. Sokka snatched the bag from Aang’s hand, tossing it at you. You caught it  as he was aiming for your face. – “We need supplies.” – he said bothered. – “Please.” – you responded wanting him to ask nicely.

Sokka puffed loud. – “I didn’t know you had manners.” – Sokka answered. – “Unlike you I wasn’t raised in an igloo.” – you responded loud. – “Yet I’m not the one banished.” – Sokka fired back. – “Sokka!” – Katara called out, shocked at his rudeness. As a response you threw the empty bag at Sokka. It bumped against his chest as he moved his head back to not get hit in the face.

“Apologize right now!” – Katara insisted with a sisterly scowl. Sokka looked back to you, seeing how his words made you feel. Somehow he felt a bit guilty for being so cruel. Yet he didn’t act upon it. He took the bag in his hand. – “I’ll just go by myself.”  - he spoke turning away. Momo flew on top of Sokka’s head making him stop with a deep sigh. – “We’ll all go.” – Aang spoke to maintain the peace.

The four of you entered the woods in search for food, hoping you’d come by a village soon. You were walking behind Aang and Katara when you noticed Sokka falling in step with you. – “No bending.” – he simply said to you. You mimicked his words like a child, teasing him. – “Oh real mature princess.” – he responded.

 “I’m just lowering myself to your standards.” – you answered with a smile. Sokka stepped in front of you, making you stop all of the sudden. He was brazing, glaring down at you. Your words annoying him. Sokka was glaring at your eyes, his face inches away from yours. His gaze fell down to your lips. He caught himself stare at them, making him turn away.

You gasped breathlessly, slouching back as if you were about to pass out. Sokka caught up with his sister, wanting to be as far away from you as he could. Looking briefly over his shoulder to you, falling in line. Grunting soft, he hated how much you messed with his head. Your presence consuming his mind as if you never wanted to leave. No matter how many times he casted you out. It infuriated him.

You were from the fire nation. Zuko’s sister, the one chasing Aang. The one who caused his village pain. – “You know you can just be nice to her.” – Katara spoke looking briefly at her brother. Sokka sighed loud. – “She’s from the…” – he outed as Katara finished his words in a voice that mimicked his. – “fire nation.” – she then giggled at her own imitation of her brother.

“Not funny.” – Sokka said annoyed as it made Katara just giggle more. Sokka looked over his shoulder again, seeing you chat with Aang.

Katara nudged him hard in the side. Sokka tore his gaze away from you. Some twigs snapped underneath his shoes. – “Aang needs her.” – she told him. – “I know, I know.” – Sokka sighed out. – “Then…” – Katara began as Sokka shushed her. She glared at him a bit for cutting her off. – “Don’t shush me.” – she said annoyed, moving her hands to her hips. – “Stop talking.” – Sokka told her, his focus elsewhere.

Katara groaned loud as he covered up her mouth. It was the only thing he thought would shut her up. – “Why have we stopped?” – Aang asked confused. Sokka was looking at every direction, listening in to nature. His eyes widened when he saw a fireblast fly their way. It hit a tree trunk close to them. – “Fire nation!” – he yelled out. The four of you started to run as more fire benders came from out of the bushes. – “It’s an ambush.” – Katara outed, puffing loud. – “You think?” – Sokka responded to her sarcastically.

Aang swayed his stick across, sending an air blast at some fire benders.  Katara stopped a moment to bend some water out of a puddle nearby. Letting it whip against a fire bender. Sokka grunted as they couldn’t outrun them. They needed to stand and fight. He pulled out his weapon, standing ready.

A fire bender was coming your way as you deflected his fire blast by ducking down. You then kicked at him. He stumbled back making you punch his stomach a few times. Sokka ducked down a punching arm, punching the man in his stomach. He then pressed the back of his weapon on his back. The man dropped to his stomach with a loud oof. He saw fire blasts coming your way as you kept avoiding them with just manoeuvring.

“What are you doing?” – Sokka called out to you. You looked back at him confused. – “Bend!” – he outed, stating the obvious. You kicked a guy away from you. – “You told me not to bend!” – you shouted back at him. Sokka jumped back from a blast. – “Just do it!” – he insisted upon annoyed. Suddenly you smiled with a new set off attitude.

Performing a sequence you conjured fire, attacking your fellow fire nation soldiers. Aang jumped above your head, landing in front of you as he flashed a blast of air at them. You moved back assisting Katara. – “I got it.” – she breathed out. You nodded at her. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Sokka getting cornered.

You ran over to him just as a blast of fire was coming his way. Sokka’s eyes widened seeing the blast come his way from his side. You jumped in front of him, arms forwards, palms pressed together as you split the blast in two. The fire flared beside Sokka and you. Sokka blinked stunned at you. You then attacked with fire of your own. Sokka was staring at you, admiring you despite his infuriation with you.

He was so caught up with you, that he hardly saw the punching fist come his way. He jumped back, avoiding the hit just in time. He was about to knock the soldier on his head with his weapon as a blast of fire pushed him away. Sokka looked confused, till he turned his head. Seeing you in a position, one fist out, panting. You had once again protected him. Sokka smiled admiring at you till his expression turned to shock. You were hit by a blast, sending you rolling on the ground. – “Y/n!” – Sokka called out.

You came to a stop, panting loud. Forcing yourself to get back up. Just as you almost stood up straight, were you hit with another surprise blast. It was if the soldiers were turning their anger towards you. One of their own fighting against them. You got hit as the blast pushed you back.

You screamed when you felt a loss of ground under your feet. An in-sinking in the ground made you slide down the hill. Tumbling and rolling down, you met with the ground hard and fast. – “Y/n?” – Sokka called out concerned. He threw his boomerang at the soldier, hitting him in the head. His boomerang returned as he caught it. Running up to the way where he lost sight of you. – “Y/n?” – he panted out nearing where you last where.

Sokka felt the ground underneath his feet crumble away. A scream caught in his throat as he slid down, arms swaying around. On the ground, you groaned in pain. Slowly pulling yourself up by your elbows. Your eyes widened seeing Sokka slide down. At the bottom, he came to a sudden stop, his chest falling forwards. He fell forwards falling hard against your chest as your back smacked the ground again.

Sokka groaned soft when he set his hands beside you, trying to pull himself up. He lifted his head up, his gaze catching yours as he paused. Paused as his face was inches away from yours. Heart pounding loudly as you were captivated in his gaze. Sokka’s gaze went down to your lips  as it made you feel shy. He neared his head a bit as you sensed he had an urge to kiss you. Your gaze flashed up and down from his eyes to his lips and back. If Sokka was about to kiss you, you wouldn’t protest. Sokka felt himself fall deeper, drawing closer to you. What if he wanted to kiss you in this moment. Would it be that bad?

You were bringing your chin closer to him to decrease the distance. Sokka slowly closed his eyes, feeling his lips tingle with the urge. A gush of wind caught him off guard. His eyes flashed back open, suddenly aware of what he was doing. He rolled over, away from you just before Aang landed down. – “So here you are.” – Aang said. You were staring at the sky, panting loud. Feeling extremely hot that Sokka was this close to kissing you.

Katara had climbed down joining Aang. Sokka had gotten up, dusting some dirt off him. Aang decided to head back to Appa and search a town from above. All of you agreed, walking back to Appa. You climbed on Appa, sitting at the back. Avoiding eye contact with Sokka. Sokka was staring down at his own hands.

Katara looked from you to Sokka. – “Is something going on between the two of you?” – she asked. – “No.” – Sokka answered loud. You lowered your head on Appa’s saddle, watching the scenery you were leaving behind. Momo came landing on your head, laying himself down.

Appa roared loud as he descended. Aang had spotted a town. A small village at the edge of the earth kingdom. Appa landed as all of you climbed down. You held the empty bag following Aang into the village. There were many curious heads turning at your friends. They certainly stand out with their watertribe attire and air nomad clothing. You didn’t receive that much attention as you were earth kingdom clothing.

You had left your fire nation clothing long behind. The moment your father banished you after Zuko’s banishment, you gave them up. There was no hope in finding a new home when you wore enemy clothing. Zuko had been given an ultimatum to return. You never did. Not acceding his expectations and questioning the flaming fist of his way of ruling led to your banishment.

The youngest of your siblings, apart by just one year with your sister Azula. You saw more to fire bending then power and anger. Fire could be beautiful if one found a balance between them. Harmony. Your father found that a weakness. Soft. Not something he could have in his daughter.

You went over to a stall where they sold fruits. Sokka’s eyes fell upon a different stall, making his way over to it, without his friends knowing. You bargained with the owner for some of his best fruit. Katara wondered where her brother was, spotting him at a stall that sold herbs. She furrowed her brows, watching her brother buy a patch of leaves. He turned around holding a little patch as he suddenly noticed his sister watching.

Sokka cleared his throat from afar, moving the patch behind his back. It made Katara quirk her eyebrow up. He joined the others once more letting his sister know to stop staring to weirdly at him. – “Look Y/n a herb stall!” – Aang pointed out. You turned your head to look as well. – “You can make that delicious tea of yours again.” – Aang said pushing you towards it.

“Actually…” – Sokka started feeling the patch in his hand. No one heard him as Aang was too enthusiastic to show you the herbs. Aang pulled you to a stop after having pushed you all the way over. – “Anything you like?” – the owner asked as you looked at his products.

“Do you have any jasmine leaves?” – Aang asked for you. – “I certainly do boy.” – the owner answered. – “Actually I…” – Sokka began wanting to let you know he already bought the jasmine leaves. The owner presented Aang with a patch of jasmine leaves. Aang nudged you to accept them. – “Aang we really don’t need them.”  - you told him. – “Of course we do, you love jasmine tea.” – he encouraged you to take them.

“Your uncle taught you to make it.” – Aang added with a smile. – “Y/n I…” – Sokka spoke wanting to place a hand on your shoulder and reveal his patch to you. A new pair of hands grabbed the patch from the owner. – “I’ll pay for her.” – all of you turned your head to a boy. He smirked flashing a wink at you.

His wink baffled you as you weren’t used to that kind of attention. The boy tossed some coins in the owner’s hand. Sokka got shoved aside as the boy wanted to be closer to you. He held the patch up for you to accept. – “You really don’t have to…” – you said feeling a bit embarrassed someone paid for you.

“Nonsense.” – he grabbed your hand, facing your palm up, placing the patch in your hand. – “Anything should be paid for a pretty girl like you.” – he finished. Sokka puffed with a roll of his eyes. The boy slid his arm over your shoulder, moving you away from your friends. – “You look like a girl who likes tea.” – he spoke as Aang followed behind him. – “How does he know.” – he asked happily astonished that he had guessed. – “We literally stood by a herb cart.” – Sokka answered bothered.

The guy was leading you to a tea shop. His arm was still around you as Sokka found himself glaring at it. Katara and Aang clearly unbothered with Sokka’s concerns. – “Has anyone told you, your smile is like a blossom on a spring day?” – he said. It made you touch your lips shy. – “No.” – you answered. Sokka tensed his jaw. You were about to enter the tea shop when a pull on your wrist pulled you to a stop.

You slowly turned as Sokka had taken a hold of your wrist. Aang, Katara and the guy walked further in. – “Something wrong Sokka?” – you asked confused. – “Are you seriously following a guy like him? Just because he flashes a smile at you and gives you a compliment, you girls fall hard.”

You smiled teasingly. – “What’s so funny?” – Sokka expressed loud. – “Nothing.” – you answered with a shake of your head. – “You are cute when you are so worked up.” – you patted his cheek teasingly. The guy came standing behind you. – “Are you coming sugar?” – he asked placing a hand on your hip. Sokka saw it almost making him lose his mind. – “She’s not!” – Sokka stated clear, grabbing you by your wrist. – “Hey!” – the guy called out when Sokka dragged you away. – “Sokka… Sokka.” – you breathed out as he kept pulling you away.

He went into an alleyway, pushing you against the wall. Sokka groaned loud as you could only stare confused at him. He turned around, grabbing you by the waist as he pressed his lips on yours. Eyes wide with shock, you blinked startled at the touch of his lips on yours. He pulled away half angered at himself for kissing you.  – “Why are you so infuriating.” – he outed. Sokka noticed you were still holding his patch with herbs so he slapped them out of your hands.

“Hey!” – you called out as Sokka gave you his with some roughness. – “I bought these because I knew you liked them.” – he told you. – “I don’t know why I bought you them, because I shouldn’t. Certainly not for a fire nation girl!” – he went on. – “So why do I care for you. Why can’t I get you out of my head, and why did it bother me that, that guy was hitting on you!”

You smiled coming up to Sokka. – “Oh hush.” – you told him, grabbing him to kiss him. Sokka gladly accepted your kiss, holding you by your waist. – “You are cute when you get worked up over things.” – you told him, making him smile sheepishly. Sokka held you again, kissing you once more just because he could. Certainly now when he made peace with himself and simply let himself fall for you.

-------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[inf3ct3dd]

ellie headcanons ..!

warnings : literally none, perfectly sfw 😍😍

content: loser!ellie x reader, more ellie-focused than relationship focused (sorryyyy 😞😞)

authors note: i’ve literally never done headcanons omg 😓 this is js my random ramblings 🔥🔥🔥

pt. 2 ! taglist!!!! masterlist!!

- send you an excessive amount of reels. every 5 seconds. cute cats, random facts about space, stuff she thinks is funny, it all goes to you.

- definitely had a “rock collection” when she was little, but she was so ???? excessive with it??? like every time she saw a rock she picked it up. she walked so weird bc her pockets were just FULL OF ROCKS.

- also, was literally the grimiest kid ever. playing in ROLLING IN the mud, going snail hunting when it rained!!! she was the kid that would go in the bushes and mess w rolly pollies all the time for NO REASON.

- is weirdly good at fishing?? joel took her all the time, and shes a self proclaimed “fishing master”

- WAYYY clumsy. always running into a wall, tripping on air, or missing steps on the stairs (smh its cuz of that damn phone 😒😒)

- im so into the whole “adam sandler” fits cuz its so true. esp during the summer, its some stupid t shirt that says “master baiter” and a pair of old basketball shorts.

- speaking of t shirts, she’s def the type to own an absurd amount of dumb t shirts.

- gets all her clothes from like, walmart and goodwill. she does not CARE!!!

- cuts her own hair too 🤞🏽🤞🏽 shes soooo self sufficient 😍😍😍

- bites. she is such a biter.

- speaking of, i feel like she js has to have something in her mouth constantly. gum, random pieces of plastic, bottle caps, pens, anything 😞

- speaking of mouths (wow sierra so many connections!!!) she def had braces , but she hates wearing her retainer so her teeth are like ever-so-slightly fucked up

- is AMAZING at committing to the bit. she will drag it for DAYSSS if you don’t tell her to stop. once did a (awful) british accent for 4 days until you threw something at her and told her to shut the fuck up

- definitely not shy, just kind of…odd. she’ll talk to anyone that talks to her, she just doesn’t really approach people.

- weird obsession with pickles. has a pickle stuffed animal with a mustache and glasses that she bought from goodwill

- hangs up so much stuff on her walls!!!! tickets, old notes, cards, pictures of people, drawings, old tickets, literally anything she thinks looks cool

- obsessed with rollercoasters!!! she took you to the fair for your first date

- also like- very good at fair games. she’s so cocky about it too, you’ll go home with like 20 stuffed animals she won for you and she’ll carry ALL OF THEM with the stupidest smile on her face

- wears all of joels old contractor-workwear clothes during the colder months

- trys so hard to be “mysterious” but she’s never actually doing anything so she just does stuff like not telling you what movie she’s watching or what she’s eating

- also just texts you 24-7!!! like every time she’s doing something she’s like “i made a quesadilla” “i went to the store” “i took a shower” she just looooves keeping you updated

- tries to raise one eyebrow but ends up just squinting one eye. so funny 😞😞

- really good at solving rubix cubes???

- definitely had a fuck ass bob at one point

- GLASSES. that is all. glasses.

- listens to so much dad rock, midwest emo, indie, she LOVES male manipulator music!! but like she isn’t like thatttt shes so niceeee 😞😞

- mostly calls you babe/baby, she’ll call you really dumb pet names as a joke like “pookie” 😭😭

[jinistd]

𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘

p. hyunjin × fem!reader

g. smut & fluff

w. 4K

content warning: smut, explicit sexual content, unestablished relationship, smoking, hyunjin gets high, consensual, hyunjin is a service top, use of pet names (hyunjin calls reader kitten/kitty)

masterlist

“-y/n?” she hears Felix call from beside her. The younger had been yapping all period about the party tonight, and y/n didn’t mean to be rude, she really didn’t, but she couldn’t help her mind drifting off onto more important things! Said things being a certain someone that has been making appearance after appearance in her daily daydreaming. Now she's not exactly complaining per se, but she is a little confused as to why her friend has been plaguing her mind more frequently than usual. It could be anything really, from his soothing voice to his dark brown eyes that always held an emotion Y/N couldn’t quite decipher, to his big, veiny hands that always had Y/N's mind drifting to other things. Things like how they would look in hers, how they would look around her waist, or between her thighs-

“Y/N!” You are again pulled from your thoughts as Felix gently kicks your leg under the table, whisper-yelling so as to not draw too much attention to you. You look at him sheepishly, brows drawn together with a small, apologetic smile on your face. “I’m sorry Lixie, what were you saying?” The boy’s frown only deepens, inching closer to you.

Felix squints his eyes as if he’s trying to find something. “Are you ok? You’ve been zoning out lately. Like, more than usual.” He diagnoses, again leaning further into your space, and at this point, it probably looks very odd from an outside perspective.

Blinking, you wonder if you should tell Felix what you've been thinking about recently. Telling Felix would mean also telling Han indirectly, but that’s technically not a bad thing because Han has much better advice than Felix anyway. You decide that it wouldn’t hurt to tell your best friend.

You purse your lips, looking at the professor at the front of the classroom. “Felix, may I ask you something?” You start hesitantly, cheeks tingeing lightly as you keep your eyes away from the boy next to you. Felix raises a brow with a ghost of a smirk creeping its way onto his face, pulling away from you to lean back in his chair.

“Of course, Y/N! What’s got the puppy blushing?” The nickname only stirs your insides a little bit, nowhere near the sensation when Hyunjin calls you by the name. You gather yourself momentarily, piecing together your thoughts and looking around just to make sure no one is paying attention to you, which is unlikely for how far away you guys are from the rest of the class, and the amount of people. “How do you know if you like someone?” you finally let out, rushed, searching your friend's eyes for any minute reaction. It’s not like you doesn’t know you like Hyunjin, you're sure you do, but it seemed like the safest question to ask.

Felix's face shifts from surprise, brows raised, and mouth parted slightly, to smug almost instantaneously. “Oh? Does Y/N have a crush?” He asks, voice saccharinely sweet and teasing.

Leaning forward to shove his friend's shoulder half-heartedly, you whine, “Don’t tease! Just answer the question.” You sit back in your chair, watching as Felix feigns hurt for all of five seconds before he’s back to smiling at you. This time it’s downright maniacal, reminding you of the Cheshire cat, and you're just a bit terrified as the boy opens his mouth to say something. “It’s Hyunjin, isn’t it?”

The blush that was slowly fading has come back in full force, bright reds painting your cheeks as you freeze. Felix gasps, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Oh my god, It’s totally Hyunjin!” He concludes, giggling like a kid at Christmas as he stares at your panic-stricken face. “Lixie it’s not funny!” Huffing, he turns away from his friend and to his notebook, which is barren of the notes they should’ve been taking. Felix seems to catch onto the fact that you are genuinely worried about whatever is going on and decides to save the teasing for later.

“Y/N, I don't know exactly how you feel, but Hyunjin definitely wouldn’t turn you down if you asked him out.” He assures because really, the elder would probably leap at the chance to go on a date with you. I mean who wouldn’t? You may not know, but most of their friends had developed a crush on him at some point, all having gotten over it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

You seem confused by his statement as he tilts his head to the side, eyes asking Felix a question. “What do you mean?” you say softly, almost as if your scared to know the answer. And to this, Felix just kind of stares at you for a moment, trying to figure out if you are making a joke. But your face doesn’t change one bit, staying in a state of confusion. He looks to the side as if there's a camera before turning back to the still-confused Y/N.

“Y/N, do you really not know?” Felix asks slowly, letting the words settle in the air around you. Dark hair shifting as you shake your head, you let out a small ‘no’.

At this, Felix laughs lightly, disbelieving at just how oblivious you are. “Hyung looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. He has these heart eyes, you know? And have you seen him around other people? Bro could not care less about anyone but you, he doesn’t even try to hide it! He’s also really rude to people who try to flirt with him, like, he looks at them like he’s disgusted by their presence. Disgusted Y/N! Have you really never noticed? He’s so obvious about it too…” He trails off, realizing that you had gone silent as he ranted about their older friend's behavior.

When Felix looks over at you, your face is blank with surprise, eyes widened and your bottom lip falling. “He doesn’t do that…” Your voice is nowhere near convincing.

“Sure, he doesn’t.” Is all Felix says before changing the subject again, but you are hardly paying attention.

You are two seconds away from running out the front door of the house. You rarely go to parties, and every time you do, you're reminded as to why. It’s loud, so loud, there's people grinding on each other everywhere, and you lost Felix in the crowd, so you're all alone at a party where you don’t know anyone. Yay!

You're looking around the living room for anyone you may know, or just to not look like an idiot, but either works, and you're almost successful! You think you see Hyunjin sitting on the couch rolling a blunt on the table in front of him, but as soon as you're about to walk over, something—no someone— is blocking your view.

“Hey.” The stranger smirks down at you, the warped smile looking all types of wrong on his face. It makes him look creepy and gross, causing you to cringe at their closeness.

“Can I help you?” You force yourself to be polite, manners still thoroughly intact even in the undesirable circumstances. The boy only increases the disgustingness of his smirk, raking his eyes up and down your body.

You shift in your spot as you look away, uncomfortably folding your arms over your chest and trying your best to glance over the stranger’s shoulder in search of Hyunjin. But the older isn’t on the couch anymore. You deflate, only to suck in a breath at the feeling of an arm being wrapped around his shoulder.

“Hi Baby.” Hyunjin’s voice is a whisper in his ear, lips brushing against the skin. You flush as a shudder runs through your body, you turn to look up at Hyunjin in surprise, his eyes already burning into yours. “Jinnie?” You question softly. Your faces are so close together, you wonder if the taller can hear your heart racing at the proximity.

Hyunjin’s hand comes up to your face, caressing your jaw. “I was looking for you,” He giggles, leaning in closer to your face, inches away. And he makes it sound so real, as if he really was looking for you amidst the crowd, which after the information Felix had shared with you earlier today, has a good chance of being true. Suddenly, Hyunjin looks away from you, eyes set on the stranger who is still standing there, his gaze murderous.

“Can I help you?” The taller spits, standing to his full height and dropping his hand down to your waist to pull you into his body. The boy practically squeaks before scurrying off with his tail between his legs, leaving you two alone.

Your body immediately deflates, leaning yourself into Hyunjin’s comforting hold easily. “Hi Jinnie.” You mumble, turning your head back to look at the older.

Hyunjin softens at the sound of your voice, your eyes finally meeting again. “Hi Y/N-ah.” You preen at the name, your name always sounding different when Hyunjin says it, but to be fair everything sounds different when Hyunjin says it. Better in every way.

He leads the younger to the couch, right where he had been sitting before saving you. Hyunjin picks up the rolled blunt from the table and reaches for the lighter in his pocket.

“y/nnie.” He calls simply, letting the name permeate in the air. You tilt your head to the elder, looking up at him. You aren't sitting far apart at all, thighs touching as Hyunjin lays back against the couch with the new blunt resting in his mouth. His left-hand falls to your thigh, rubbing small and comforting circles into the rough material of your jeans.

It wasn’t comforting at all though, you immediately flush at the feeling of the elder's large hand on your thigh. It was a regular occurrence for Hyunjin to put his hands on you, but each time it set your body alight with nerves.

“Kitty,” God. This boy must want to kill you.

You choke, sputtering as you continue to stare at Hyunjin’s side profile. The elder takes a long drag, holding it for a few seconds and then exhaling. He turns to you. “You should try this.”

And you probably shouldn't, but when Hyunjin’s looking at you as if he's the only person in the room while asking you to do something that seems so mundane, how could you possibly say no? You're a weak woman.

So, you take the offered blunt and presses it to your lips, not really knowing what to do next. Hyunjin seems to understand your dilemma and takes mercy on you because you next hear instructions on how to smoke properly.

“Suck it like a straw, inhale, hold, exhale. Do it gently, or you’re gonna cough.” He smiles at you, teasing as you give him a quizzical expression and nods your head hesitantly.

You still cough. Violently. Your lungs burn as you hand the offensive object back to its original owner, who is now laughing. “Stop laughing!” You whine when you finally catch your breath, throat still burning. Hyunjin’s hand squeezes your thigh tighter as he laughs, head tilted back towards the ceiling. A shiver runs down your spine, Hyunjin is so hot.

“C’mere, kitty.” He grabs the back of your head and tilts your head manually. Stilling, you lay pliant in the others' grasp.

Hyunjin takes a long drag before leaning in, meeting eyes with you wide-eyed and confused. Your lips are parted slightly, just enough so that Hyunjin can lightly press his own against yours to let the smoke travel into your mouth.

The touch is gone as quick as it came.

Hyunjin's own eyes are lidded as he watches. “Suck, inhale, hold, exhale,” he murmurs quietly to you who follows his directions as best as you can, sucking it in like a straw, inhaling, holding, and exhaling.

This time it's much smoother, but the smoke travels from your mouth to Hyunjin’s in a puff, the older boy sucking up the last remnants of it in with confidence.

They're close, so close. You're practically on the other’s lap with how much you had compensated when Hyunjin pulled you in. The air between you is thick as Hyunjin brings the blunt back to his mouth, this time connecting your lips in a real kiss, letting the smoke cloud up around your mouths.

Your eyes flutter shut as they meet, Hyunjin's hand on the back of your head like a brand, heavy and hot. The one that moves to your thigh is no better, tugging on you just enough for you to get the hint that he wants you to sit in his lap. Again, you're a weak woman for Hyunjin, so you go without question.

You feel small like this, sitting in the lap of your friend. You moan against Hyunjin’s mouth as the older grips your waist, it’s not the strongest because the blunt is still between his fingers, but it's more than enough to leave you with the feeling of molten hot desire pooling in your gut.

“Jinnie…” He mumbles into Hyunjin's mouth, curling a fist into his jacket. When he opens his eyes, he sees the gaze the older has fixed on him, lust and want swirling in his dark, hooded eyes.

“Yes, Kitten?” The elder asks teasingly, leaning forward to nip at your plump lower lip. He’s reminded of the blunt in his hands though, pulling it away from your body and taking another hit.

Before he could exhale though, you connect your lips once again, holding onto the side of Hyunjin's face with one of his hands. The kiss is messy, saliva pooling in your mouth and spilling over the corners as Hyunjin kisses you back just as desperately.

But as you continue to share the blunt, your kisses and touches become languid and sweet, delving down into something less rushed. It's still filled with lust however, you're still minutely grinding up or down into each other in the middle of a party on a stranger's couch, but somehow it feels different.

You smile and giggle as you pull away, the weed hasn't hit either of you yet, but you feel light and airy as he stares at Hyunjin.

“Y/N-ah, you're so adorable.” Hyunjin coos, squeezing the side of your waist with no real force. You blush and giggle again, leaning back down to press a peck to the elder's lips. “Jinnie, do you maybe wanna…find a room?” You ask cautiously, making sure to hide yourself in Hyunjin’s neck as you do, hoping that it would serve as a covering.

The content smile on his face grows to a large grin as he cradles the back of your head. “Why don't we go back to my place? It’s only a few minutes from here.” He offers, placing a kiss to your head.

You don't know how the atmosphere changed so quickly. Just a minute ago you were practically cuddling on the couch with a side of kisses and grinding, but now the frottage has gotten out of hand and you're shaking against the elder.

“J-Jinnie! Please, please, please. I’ll be good! I’ll be so good, I swear…” You beg desperately, eyes watering with unshed tears as you stare up at Hyunjin through his lashes.

The older had been teasing you for so long. You just want him to do something to alleviate the ache of your cunt. Hyunjin has his thigh between your legs, pushing down harshly at times, or just simply letting you grind up against him.

He grins down at you. “Yeah? Does my kitty want more?” Hyunjin chides affectionately, his hand holding the side of your face as you relax into the touch.

“Yes.” The way you look is downright seductive. Your clothes aren't even off and your already drooling, hair messy as it lays over your head like a halo, and you're looking up at Hyunjin with these sinfully gorgeous eyes, wide and wanting, pooling with lust. He's sure he doesn't look any better though, just as effected as you in this whole endeavor.

Hyunjin finally lets up, taking his hands back and pulling himself away to take his shirt off. You whine at the loss, but it's soon quieted as you gasp upon seeing Hyunjin without a shirt.

“Jinnie you never told me you worked out…” And for some reason, you sound sad, as if you really were upset that Hyunjin never told you. He pulls off his pants too, letting both articles of clothing fall somewhere on his floor as he moves back to you.

“Baby, are you sure you're ready?” He asks, pausing with his hands on your waist. You thrash, “Jinnie if you don't fuck me right now.” He huffs, trying to sound intimidating but it just comes out as weak and breathless.

Hyunjin's eyes darken, hands working quickly as they rip off your pant and underwear down in one motion, tossing them on the floor and exposing his glistening cunt. “Or what? Hmm Y/N? What are you gonna do if I don't fuck you?” His grip tightens on your hips, blunt nails digging into the soft skin.

There's no bravado in your voice as he speaks, it's lost the longer Hyunjin stares at you with a gaze so hungry and primitive. “I’ll go find someone else.” It's said as a whisper, because it's the furthest thing from the truth—you don't want anyone else other than your Hyunjin to fuck you.

Hyunjin seems to think it's funny, for he tosses his head back in laughter, hands absentmindedly reaching for the fabric that's left on your body.

“We both know you wouldn't even dream of that. ‘Cause you're such a loyal kitten, yeah?” Hyunjin mutters the last part directly into your ear, hot breath hitting the shell and sending a shiver down your spine.

You squeak, Hyunjin's hands finding purchase under your shirt where your chest meets your torso. You nod your head fervently, eyes closing.

Hyunjin only chuckles, crowding into your space. “Yeah, that's right. You're my good girl, aren't you?” It's rhetorical, but you can't help the small, shaky ‘yes’s you let out as Hyunjin kisses down your neck. He pokes his tongue out, letting it taste the subtle saltiness of your skin. Hyunjin sucks harshly at your collarbone, you whimper at the feeling.

“Jinnie. please. Do something…” Your just so desperate. You've been kissing and touching for what feels like hours: Hyunjin has been teasing you for too long and now you're brimming with desire.

When the first tear spills down your cheek, Hyunjin finally takes mercy on you.

“Shh, baby let Jinnie take care of you.” Hyunjin mutters into the furnace that is your skin, pecking the side of your mouth before moving down your body and settling between your legs.

You feel your cunt throb with a fresh spurt of slick as Hyunjin breathes hotly against your folds, just looking. His hands are supporting the underside of your thighs, pushing them up and apart to get a better view.

“Fuck kitty, you're dripping.” And the worst part is that Hyunjin is right. You can feel your arousal as it runs down your legs, it's the dirtiest you've ever felt but you're much too turned on to care.

You're just about to whine for attention again when you feel something warm and hot licking over your clit.

Hyunjin doesn't waste time, sparing you no warning before he abruptly licks a thick stripe up your slit, lapping at the juices that coat your pussy. He groans at the taste, always knowing you would be sweet.

Unable to resist the urge to voice his opinions, Hyunjin speaks his mind. “You taste so good, Y/N.” He hums into you, your pussy clenching around nothing at the praise.

“Jinnie…” You whisper, broken and weak. When Hyunjin looks up at you, your eyes are closed, and your face is drawn up tightly.

Hyunjin sucks harshly at your clit, thighs twitching in his hold. “Ah!” You gasp, your hands instantly moving from their grip on the duvet to lightly grabbing at Hyunjin's hair.

Hyunjin can barely hold back the sounds he’s making, small groans and hums leaving his mouth and vibrating against your entrance as he moves to focus more on it.

Swirling his tongue around the soft hole, he lets your legs rest on his shoulders. You sound so heavenly like this, moaning and whimpering, so fucked out just after a few touches.

His hands massage the skin between your thighs and ass, going back to sucking your clit like candy. Above him, your hands tighten their grip, only serving to spur Hyunjin on.

He flicks his tongue over the swollen bud, pink and puffy with need over and over, making your stomach heave.

“Hyunjin! Ah—Jinnie, so s’good.” You babble, lips shiny and wet with saliva. Hyunjin moans at the sight of drool escaping your mouth and slowly dripping down your chin, feeling his dick throb in his boxers.

He licks into you as if he's been starved his entire life, tongue lapping hungrily over your clit as his nails dig into the soft flesh of your ass. Your legs shake on his shoulders as Hyunjin lets out a long hum, a gasp leaving your mouth at the vibrations. “Hyunjin!” You wail.

In response, Hyunjin presses a wide lick from your entrance to your clit, hooking his tongue around the bud and swirling it around in firm circles. You jolt, the feeling like no other as you moan helplessly.

“Such a good girl, your cunt’s so sweet.” He chuckles, voice gruff as he repeats the action. You are flushed a bright red, cheeks splotchy as tears run down them beautifully.

When your eyes meet, it's heavy, filled with emotion. Your voice is strained as you call for Hyunjin. “Jinnie.” You manage, letting one hand go from Hyunjin's hair in search of one of his own hands.

Hyunjin obliges immediately, slotting your hands together lovingly above your stomach. It's a stark contrast to the way he plunges his tongue back into your sopping entrance, licking up the slick that's now covering his mouth and chin.

He can feel you begin to spasm around him, plush thighs squeezing his head and neck. It’s so hot how you're so desperate, chasing your orgasm as Hyunjin continuously brings you further and further along.

“C’mon baby, be good and cum for Jinnie.” He can feel as you start to crumble, breath becoming much heavier as your eyes start to flutter, moans higher in pitch as you arch your back to push yourself further into Hyunjin's mouth. But it's the next line that really pushes him over the edge.

“Cum for me kitty.” Your mouth is frozen open in a silent scream, air caught in your lungs as your cumming on Hyunjin's face unabashedly. Your body shakes through the process, pussy clenching and unclenching around the elder's tongue in spasmed rhythms.

Hyunjin coaxes you through it all, letting you ride out your high by swallowing every last drop of your release. He doesn't stop until you push his head away with a trembling hand.

When Hyunjin comes up from his spot between your legs, he's met with your glassy eyes looking up at him with a sad look. “‘n/n what's wrong? Did I go too far? Was it too much?” He worries, words slipping from his mouth at a fast pace as his hands come up to cup your warm cheeks.

You shake your head. “Jin, you haven't come yet.” You mumble, pointing down to the very obvious boner he’s sporting. Hyunjin only laughs, thankful that he hadn't overstepped.

“It's okay pretty, I just wanted you to feel good.” Hyunjin assures, kissing your swollen lips sweetly. But it seems like it was the wrong thing to say because now your whining into his mouth.

Pulling away with wide eyes, Hyunjin gives you a curious look. “I want you to…” You look away, blushing furiously, and Hyunjin decides he will be having none of that, turning your head his way again.

“Want me to what?” He pushes, eyes now teasing and expectant. You wriggle in his grip, squirming under the heated gaze.

“‘Wan you to cum on me…” It's barely even a whisper, but Hyunjin still hears, breaking out into a large grin as you look away yet again.

Hyunjin lets go of your face, settling himself between the younger’s legs again. “Yeah? Is that what the kitty wants?” He drawls lowly, reaching into his boxers and releasing his cock from its restraints. He won’t last long at all, his cock is a violet red and it stands up tall, slapping against his stomach.

Gasping when you see the length, you can't help but imagine what it would look like to fit that inside you, what would it feel like. You always knew Hyunjin would be big, but this reaches new lengths.

Hyunjin sees the inner turmoil inside your mind. “Don't worry. Next time, I’ll open you up real nice for me.” He hums, wrapping his hand around the girth and sliding it against the wet surface of your still swollen pussy. Flinching at the sensation, you wince as the head of his cock rubs on his clit so deliciously.

Just as he had thought, it barely takes Hyunjin anything to come, the image of you biting his plump lips and looking up at him while your legs are spread so prettily is more than enough for him to be spilling over his hand with white, hot ropes squirting onto your folds with a loud groan.

He lays himself on top of you after that, careful of his weight but still cuddling into you. You were just so warm and soft. You can't blame him.

“I love you.” Hyunjin blurts into the hot skin of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight. You giggle in his arms, placing a shy kiss on Hyunjin's temple.

“I love you too.”

[mrshesh]

hi! do you have any general hcs for the cod:ghosts boys?

general headcanons - call of duty: ghost's

overview: general headcanons of the call of duty: ghost's boys!

pairing: none!

genre: fluff, pure tomfoolery

a/n: hi anon! i'm thrilled i finally got a request for these boys. i love them so much, it's getting a bit unhealthy. you're truly the best for requesting them! i hope you love it!

x logan walker

He sucks at puzzles. He’s smart and tactical, but puzzles are on another level of difficulty for him. 

He likes doodling a lot. If he has a pen and a surface to draw on, he will sketch a small smiley or a caterpillar. It has become such a habit that he doesn’t even think about it when he does it. It got so bad that once, Keegan called him out on it mid-doodle, leaving Logan embarrassed for a week. 

He loves the ocean, but beaches annoy him. He hates sand. (I firmly believe his hate for them is from Hesh throwing sand in his face as children.)

He has a picture of him and Hesh as kids in his wallet. He feels calmer when he looks at it, getting into the habit of peeking at it when stressed. 

He’s an avid Deftones enjoyer. He loves Beware and Diamond Eyes. 

He likes caramel-scented things, but he doesn’t like the taste of it. 

He has some insane dirt on Elias, and, of course, Hesh knows all of it. 

For some odd reason, he’s phenomenal at parallel parking. 

x david "hesh" walker

He loves movies. He can watch any genre! Horror? Great! Action? Love. Romance? Cute! Comedy? Perfect! He loves it all. Shows, however? Nope. 

He takes pride in his nails being clipped and filed at all times. He was a nailbiter in his teens, so he cares about his nails more than he should today. 

He can’t cook to save his life. 

Eminem is his go-to artist. He loves and respects many artists, but Eminem will always be at the top of his list. He loves Stan. 

He’s respectful in general.

He’s extremely secure and confident, yet he’s still pretty nervous when he talks to girls. 

He loves long car rides. Driving around in his car while listening to his favorite songs brings out a unique joy in him. 

He, unlike Logan, loves beaches! (He wasn’t the one who got sand thrown on him, so he’s thriving.) 

He hates coriander. 

x elias "scarecrow" walker

Unlike his son, Elias is great at puzzles! He’s disappointed Logan didn’t inherit that quality. He mourns it every day. 

He loves pickles. (Same.)

He manipulated himself into liking beer many years ago. 

People call him DILF all the time. It has happened too many times to count. He finds it funny, while Hesh and Logan are horrified every time. 

He doesn’t know how to put on chapstick. He puts it between his lips and swipes it back and forth, not on his lips. 

He got so much action when he was a teenager/young adult. He tells Logan and Hesh to “live a little” so they can experience that life, too. 

He doesn’t listen to music often, but when he does, he listens to either Korn or Chris Isaak. 

He adores Riley, sometimes stealing him from Hesh without warning. 

x keegan russ

He secretly enjoys ASMR. It helps him unwind and de-stress, but not sleep, surprisingly.

He’s excellent at the game Mafia. 

He has made way too many people giggle excitedly because of his voice. He finds it amusing but disturbing at the same time. He knows it’s attractive, but that many people? He has even made Elias giggle like a schoolgirl because of his vocal folds. 

Keegan strikes me as a Slipknot fan. He finds Killpop and Vermillion to be sexy. 

He loves grocery shopping. 

He talks to himself a lot. He’s antisocial and quiet around others, but when Keegan’s alone, he keeps having full-on conversations with himself. Merrick caught him doing it once - he never brought it up again. 

He enjoys lasagna a bit too much. 

He had a motorcycle phase as a young adult. It got so bad he learned how to do a wheelie on them, but his love for them has died down in the many years he’s been alive. 

He thinks wine is gross. 

x thomas merrick

He cannot stand bananas. Everything about them makes him gag. 

He gets such a rise out of being a bitch. He’s already annoying by default but strives to be even more insufferable for the fuck of it.

He, Alex, and Keegan smoke while being sentimental together at least once a month. (It’s always with Keegan and Alex - Elias, David, and Logan get left out.) 

He listens to underground metal like Sold Soul, and he thinks it makes him superior to everyone else. (And he gatekeeps it.)

He’s immune to pretty much all physical pain except for waxing. It’s enough to make him cry. 

He loved trains as a child.

His comfort song is Toxicity by System Of A Down. 

His appetite is insane. This man can eat a horse and still be hungry by the end of it. 

His calves are huge for some reason. 

[fourmoony]

Pumpkin patch date (25-what’s a kiss between two friends?) with sirius please💗

thanks for requesting!!! ♡︎

1.2k | cw: first kiss, mentions of alcohol and smoking

"There you are." You say as you throw yourself down on James' cushy couch with a huff.

Sirius has been wandering all night. Which is fine, except you don't know any of his old school friends (except James and Remus). It's an odd feeling, you've decided, to be as grown as you are and still equally embarrassed to be seen alone in front of a group of people. The final straw was running into Sirius' seriously pretty high school girl friend Mary (and her extremely pretty current girlfriend, Marlene) and fumbling over your words so bad that they offered you a glass of water to sober up. You haven't touched a drink all night.

Your best friend looks up, dimples popping under the weight of his grin. "Oh, hello, gorgeous." He throws an arm around the back of the sofa, folds his leg under him as he turns to give you his full attention.

The response your body and brain give makes you feel like a teenager. You feel lucky to have Sirius' attention in a room full of people like this - even if you had to go out of your way to get it. It's silly, to be so enthralled in Sirius. But he has that effect on people all the time. Baristas, bus drivers, cashiers at the shops. Anyone who's ever been on the receiving end of one of Sirius' signature grins has felt like the luckiest person alive, at some point.

"And where have you been?" He asks, fingers reaching forwards to play with yours.

You scoff, fighting a smile and turning to better face him. "Me? Where have I been, you ask?"

Sirius nods, all too pleased with himself. "Off with a bloke I had imagined. Gideon Prewett's had his eyes on you all night. Or, actually, that might be Fabian. Ask Jamie, I still can't tell them apart." He shrugs.

There's tiny bits of black glitter around Sirius' eyes; smudged, from his eyeliner, you assume. It draws out the pale grey of his eyes. He looks really pretty. Like someone that would have their painting hung in some grandiose museum. For, like, being historically beautiful.

With a snort, you roll your eyes. "Fat chance of that."

Sirius isn't stupid. He knows you've never had a boyfriend. He's never brought it up, never teased you about it. He just glosses over it like he does most things. For that, you're grateful.

But he frowns at your words, regardless, as he says, "Why?"

You're a little shell shocked as you stare back at him blankly. There's not really any reason for you not to talk to Gideon. Or Fabian, which ever one of them it is. But you don't have Sirius' confidence or sheer lack of care. So, you don't. You stay firmly rooted in your seat, unsure of how to tell your perfectly capable best friend that you're severely under-experienced for a party hook-up with one of his former classmates.

Sirius sighs when you don't answer.

"There has to be a first at some point."

You can't help but bristle at his words, even if they're meant to be encouraging. "I know."

Sirius' fingers poke at the side of your face where his hand is slung over the back of the couch. "Hey," He whispers, head dipped to meet your eyes, "Sorry."

You smile, lean towards his fingers as they turn less teasing and start a gentle path along your cheekbones. "I just want it to be with someone I know. Someone I trust. At least the first time, you know?" You hate the way it sounds. Like a damsel holding on to her last shred of innocence.

But Sirius nods, eyes genuine and understanding. Soft, lovely. Like he always is with you. It's like his chaos gets dialled down when he's with you. Like he can breathe, take a minute to just... exist.

"You trust me?" He asks, swallowing after.

You're not an idiot. You know he's about to offer himself as your first kiss and you hate that it makes flowers bloom between the cracks in your ribs. Your palms grow sweaty and your tongue darts out to lick your lips as if on instinct. "I trust you. But you can't kiss me."

Sirius' brows furrow. "Why not?"

You laugh, albeit a little awkwardly. "Because we're friends, Sirius."

And because you're scared you won't want to kiss anyone else ever again.

Sirius smirks. It's full of mischief and knowing he's likely to get his own way. "What's a little kiss between two friends, gorgeous?"

His fingers tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and you melt into him. So close that you can smell the beer he's been drinking, a little hint of cigarette smoke clinging to his hair. You want this. But maybe a little too much. Sirius is still grinning, very much able to read you like a book. But he waits for you to nod, to give him permission before he scooches closer to you.

"Okay." You whisper, suddenly shy.

If someone had told you as a teenager that you'd be at a party with what is possibly the world's most heartbreakingly beautiful man you've ever met, kissing him in front of a room full of people, you'd have cringed. It'd have been too much to handle. Too much want, too much fear.

But as much as everyone else often describes Sirius Black as Too Much, he's never been that way to you. Not even as his hand shifts to cup your jaw, pulling you so close that his breath fans over your face, warms the skin there. He's so gentle, respectful. It makes you want to sob. Because this is a kiss between two friends.

First, Sirius presses a kiss to the left of your mouth. His lips are gentle, soft. Your eyes flutter closed of their own accord and that's when he swoops. It feels odd, at first. You feel frozen, until Sirius runs his thumb against the underside of your jaw, adds a little pressure under your chin. He tilts your head back and all you can do is respond greedily. You need more of him, more of that pressure against your neck. More of his lips moving against yours with the perfect amount of force.

You sigh into it, one hand on his bicep and the other on his knee. Sirius smiles a little, leaning into you until you're pressed back into the arm of James' couch. It swallows you whole, the kiss. It's raw, beautiful, a little dirty, just like Sirius.

When he deems you've had enough (though, you'd disagree), he pulls away, pressing a doting kiss to your forehead before he retreats. His eyes scan your flushed face.

"See, not so bad." He shrugs as he pulls you into his side.

You rub your lips together, still tingling, and nod. "Yeah, not bad at all."

"Should we find James and ask which one of the Prewett twins has been eyeing you all night?" Sirius asks, though his voice doesn't sound as enthusiastic as it had, earlier.

"Sure. In a minute." You murmur.

Kissing Gideon or Fabian is the last thing you want to do, now. So you sit with Sirius, curled into his side, and watch his old classmates get progressively more drunk as the night goes on. Neither of you make a move to find James, and when he does appear, stumbling from side to side, murmuring something about fulfilling an old unrequited crush, you, nor Sirius, mention either of the Prewett twins.

[small-sinclair]

Hii! Hope this finds you well. I've been scrolling through you page and I love your work! Could I request the Sinclair brothers (separately) with a S/O thats touch-starved and wanting their attention often?

Ty <3

Hewos!

Touched starved S/o x Sinclair Brothers

Bo

When he feels your hand in his, he’s uncomfortable at first. He’s not used to someone wanted his touch, and feeling your hand in his made him unsure.

But when it was movie night and you two were on the couch, his mind changed. Bo looks down at you and his heart melts a bit. He sees you’re hugging his arm as you laid against his side, and he actually realizes two things. One, you’re touch and being close to him, wanting to be near him without fear or force, and letting him be himself… he realizes he’s in love with you. Two, your hand fits perfectly in his.

So, he welcomes your touch and hands. He welcomes the hugs and late night cuddles. He wants it now. He understands it.

Vincent

For a while, he doesn’t want you to touch him. He finds it odd and becomes a bit uncomfortable with it. He’ll ask you not to do it anymore until he’s ready.

When he is ready, that’s when he shows you his face. He’s scared when he does it, but when he feels your hands cupping his face, your eyes looking at him without fear, and a smile on your lips, he hugs you tightly. Your hands and embrace is the softest thing he’s ever felt. Even cold silk can’t compare to your skin.

He’ll hold your hand when you two go on walks, let’s you curl up to him while you sleep, bud he has a favorite one. It’s when you sit on his lap when he’s drawing, your head against his heart, sleeping so soundly right there.

Lester

He’s it just as touched starved as you. I loves feeling you near him, your hand in his or you hand on his lap while he’s driving. He loves hugging you and carrying you on his back! He loves feeling you near and being with him.

Lester always loves to rest his hands on your cheeks, whispering little praises to you. He loves seeing you smile.

He loves it when you sleep on his chest at night, you head on his shoulder. He’ll rub your back and breathe deeply so his heartbeat is slow enough to make you feel safe. He never wants you to leave him.

[moodymisty]

Would you consider to write of Morty x Pregnant reader?? It's ok if ignore this btw you're stories are wonderful💕

Author’s Note: beep boop here's a snippet

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tokophobia/pregnancy

It’s been months, and yet the news still feels unreal. If he thinks about it for too long, he almost feels like he’s split between a reality and an unreality; You belonging to the ladder.

'I, I’m pregnant, Mortarion.'

He had refused to believe at first. The Primarchs were sterile, surely. They were abominations created in a lab. Beings that spit in the face of humanity yet supposedly beyond them.

But sure enough, you gave him- verbatim - a speech received from the medicae; Pregnant, was once again the conclusion.

He continued to deny it at first, in his own head, and continued to act like nothing had changed.

But then your belly started to grow, and something in him changed. He remembers the exact moment, when your turned to speak to someone and the swell of your belly was recognizable, and Mortarion could no longer deny his reality. The reality.

You were pregnant. You were going to have a child, and he was their father.

Mortarion had left many things unfinished in his life- but he wanted to make good on this one. To be the father he had been denied.

“Go back and rest.”

Mortarion is blunt as you watch him write moments after walking in. You’ve been sick, sicker than most pregnant women, and he can only imagine the toll his accursed genes are doing to your body.

More than what he already does to you; the Barbaus made poisons that stir in him, pouring from his lungs in ragged breaths. Sometimes he wonders how you can tolerate him, let him touch you do this to you- and seem not the least bit disgusted by him.

“I love you, but I will go crazy if I’m locked up in there anymore.”

The look he gives you is less than approving.

"Can I at least have a few minutes here before I go back?" A refusal is on his lips, but he swallows it. You seem to take that as welcome enough and make yourself at home.

As much as he did want to send you back, it's been awhile since he's seen you up and about. Or in general. He's busy, and you're always in the quarters he rarely uses.

You walk past him to look out a large viewport, at the nothingness beyond it. Mortarion notices that your belly has gotten even larger. Resting, and you’ve taken to drawing in that time.

He wonders how the other primarchs will react when they find out. They don't even know you exist, let alone that you're about to have his child. In an odd, prideful, selfish way, he's excited to see their reactions; That he has something they don't.

"They starting moving, by the way." Mortarion looks at you, eyebrows raised. "A few nights ago they started wiggling. You were with your captains so I couldn't tell you right away."

Stepping closer you look at him, rubbing what he presumes is sleep from your eye.

"Do you want to feel?"

Of course he does. He would want nothing more, but he can't find the tongue to say those words. Not without tripping over himself. Instead he rises from his chair and kneels in front of you, reaching a hand out. Once it rests on your belly you put one over his own.

It takes a moment, before he feels them shifting. Something in him almost becomes, frightened. In the same way when he saw how big your belly was getting, this is another moment where he realizes that he isn't in an unreality- this is it.

"Come sit with me."

Mortarion moves to sit back at his desk and bring you to rest on his lap, where you lean comfortably into his chest.

You hum with the satisfaction of winning, and he rests a hand on your belly, before continuing his work.

[kararisa]

between you, me, and these bookshelves

synopsis: just the little things that happen in a little bookstore.

— featuring: albedo, ayato, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader (separate)

— cw: modern au, swearing, yn is an avid reader, use of childe's real name, none of the books i mention here are real lol

— author's notes: first headcanon post with multiple characters~ very self indulgent so hope you guys enjoy <3

Working at a bookstore isn't the most glamorous job in the world.

The pay is good for the amount of work you need to do, and most days nothing much happens.

But sometimes, there are just some events that happen between the bookstore's mahogany shelves that make your days just a bit more colorful.

Albedo

The bookstore has a chalkboard stand outside that details new releases, promotions, or events that the store has. Displayed on it are elaborate illustrations or hand-lettering, all of it done by the same person.

And he comes by every other weekend to re-do its contents.

You sometimes watch him as he draws, his nimble hands becoming dusted with colored chalk as he sketches on the blackboard, his light blond hair tied back as he furrows his brow, deep in concentration.

He’s caught you staring a handful of times, to which you turn away in hopes that he doesn’t bring it up. Thankfully he never does.

This week you watch as he colors in his artwork, a dragon and a young man with wings at the center soaring over rolling plains and sharp cliffs.

As the boy gets started with the lettering, you ask him a question.

“Do you really just come up with all this on the spot?”

The boy looks at you with curiosity in his eyes, “So you do talk. And here I was wondering if you just didn’t like talking to me.”

“Well, I don’t exactly know what we can really talk about. You’re a freelancer right?”

He smiles as he returns his attention back to his illustration, “You can say that. Well to answer your first question, I usually have a final outcome in mind before I start sketching. Your boss sends me a gist of what he wants and I draw it. Simple as that.”

You converse with him until he finishes, sprinkling in some questions about his work in between. As he packs up to leave, you ask him one last question.

“I never got your name, chalk boy.”

A silent question, but one that he still understands.

“It’s Albedo.”

The two of you end up striking up an easy conversation every time he visits, with you always watching him draw

If you express interest in his other works, he’ll let you browse his sketchbook 

One day while flipping through his drawings, you begin to see some familiar sights: a vending machine outside a nearby convenience store, a food stall, and the outside of the bookstore. Some pages have small doodles in pencil and ink, and some in color. Others have full illustrations.

The next page that you flip to, though, nearly takes your breath away. 

You find a colorful illustration of the bookstore, a blend of paint and ink. Sunlight streams through the glass walls and envelops the scene in a warm light. Boxes lay strewn on the floor, all of them brimming with books. And among the boxes stands you, a stack of books in hand as a small smile graces your face.

You look up when Albedo spots the page you’re on, “Ah, I hope you don’t mind that I sketched you a handful of times. I tend to draw what I find interesting.

“So is it alright if… I sketched you more often?”

Scaramouche

Scaramouche pisses you off most days.

He distracts you while you try to do your work, he steals the pen by the cash register whenever you need to use it, and worst of all, he always makes fun of whatever book you read.

No matter what genre it is, mystery, fantasy, or heaven forbid, romance, he'll always find something to tease you about.

But it’s odd. For someone who claims to hate every novel that you've taken interest in, you find yourself discussing with him each and every book you’ve read.

“Sure, Forest of Lies had a strong opening,” he starts, leaning back on his chair, “But did the princess seriously need to go through those arbitrary trials just to prove that she was determined to save her kingdom?”

“Fine, I thought it was stupid too,” you say, “But you have to admit, the characters are actually well-written and have interesting subplots. The knight having a backstory connected to the princess’ was a good twist.”

“But does anything really come from that twist? Or was it just there for shock value? When you get to the part where–”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, “Spoilers! I just got past the twist, asshole.”

“You should read faster then!” he says, going into the storage room to fetch some supplies, “Whatever, we’ll continue this when you finish the damn book.”

You’re about to continue reading when Scaramouche pops his head out and adds, “The next two novels in the series go downhill in quality from there. Trust me.”

“But this is a trilogy??”

“That’s the point!”

You realize that he had a point when you finally got to the second book.

Around halfway through reading the book, you catch him reading over your shoulder. You turn to look at him and he simply gives you a smug smile. You simply rolled your eyes and continued reading.

A couple of days go by after you finish the second book when he approaches you.

“What’s the occasion?” you say as Scaramouche hands you a book, a pen, a highlighter, and some book tabs.

It’s a novel on your wishlist, you notice; one that you had mentioned to him in passing. Small colored tabs stick out from the side of the book. Thumbing through the first few pages, you see that he underlined some passages, his neat writing occupying the margins, the blue highlighter bringing your attention to a handful of quotes. Just from reading the first sentence as well as Scaramouche’s comments, you could tell that you were going to enjoy reading this.

But you recall a casual remark he during one of your past conversations — he doesn’t typically annotate his books. Did he do this for you?

“Nothing. Just thought you should read a good book for once,” he answers, not quite looking at you.

“Excuse you, I read good books sometimes.”

“The last book you read, you kept ranting about how the writing wouldn’t just ‘let the characters fucking talk’. Your words, not mine.”

“And the last book you read, you literally couldn’t finish because you kept getting fed up with the protagonist doing nothing.”

He groans, “Are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

You give him an unimpressed look, setting the book and stationery aside, “This novel better be as good as you say it is.”

He was right. The book was actually good. You even ended up adding your own annotations alongside his — like having your own conversation amidst the pages of the book.

His comments, whether they be snarky, insightful, or analytical, definitely enhanced the experience. And thanks to that, you end up finishing the book in just two days.

Another one of your story discussions happens and, amidst the bickering, a book he mentions piques your interest.

After making fun of the ever-growing list of books he wants to read, to which he retorts by saying you’re not better off, an idea pops into your head and you search for the novel he’s looking for.

It’s in a genre you wouldn’t typically go reaching for, but this is the least you could do for him, right?

You spend the next week reading and annotating the book, using the highlighter and tabs Scaramouche had given you to highlight passages and give your comments.

The shocked look on his face when you gave him the copy of the book was definitely worth it.

“Just thought you should read a good book for once,” you say, sliding the book toward him.

“Huh. Don’t you hate this genre?”

“Surprisingly enough I actually liked the story; you have decent recommendations when you’re not being such a dick. So, are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

He rolls his eyes, snatching the book from the table, and mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’. 

You pretend not to see the blush that reaches his ears.

Ayato

It starts off as most days do, with a delivery of new books.

You open the box to find the newest releases as well as some bestsellers. One of the covers catches your eye, the title Child of the Roses emblazoned in front of an illustration of two women laying in a field of red roses — one of the books you’ve always wanted to get your hands on ever since the author announced the plot.

Sure you could purchase the book right now, but your budget for the month didn’t have a lot of wiggle room. And if you did wait until next month, you couldn’t exactly guarantee the availability of the book since it always manages to sell fast.

While you’re restocking the shelves, the door to the store opens, and in come a man and woman with pale blue hair. 

The girl starts looking around while the man walks up to you.

“Does your store happen to sell the book Traingazing?” the man asks. There’s an elegance in the way he carries himself — well-dressed, handsome, and dignified in the way he speaks, “It’s alright if you don’t.” 

You confirm its availability and lead him to the nearby shelves, “You lucked out today, sir. This is our last copy.”

He laughs. Fuck, even his laugh sounds expensive, “Lucky indeed. My sister and I have gone to five stores today just looking for it.”

The girl, his sister, you presume, comes up to you two with a small stack of books in hand, “Did you find it?”

The man holds up the book, its silver-edged pages gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the store, “Got their last copy, too.”

She sighs in relief, “Good. You can finally stop nagging me about you never being able to grab a copy before they sell out.”

“Says the one who dragged me to eight stores looking for a book you ended up hating.”

The siblings leave shortly after purchasing their books. 

The rest of the day passes by as normal. Rush hour usually comes around early afternoon to late evening, when students get out of school and people usually get off work. 

Unfortunately, your shift just about lines up with the store’s more chaotic hours.

You spot a familiar blue-haired man again later that evening while you’re in the middle of helping another customer. He’s browsing the shelves when he spots you.

“Can you help me with something? I’m looking for a gift for my sister.”

“Oh, the girl you were with this afternoon, right? What kind of books does she like?”

He describes the types of books she favors along with a handful of her favorite authors. You lead him to some nearby shelves, picking out some books and giving him a brief synopsis of each one. He listens intently to each of your suggestions, his lilac eyes focused on you.

As you’re finishing up, he spots a book behind you and grabs it from the shelf. You spot the familiar title, Child of the Roses. As usual, whenever you restock it, it’s the last one in stock. “You thinking of buying that one? It’s our last copy.”

The man reads the synopsis as you summarize the plot, “Seems like quite the interesting book if it got you so excited.”

You laugh at his remark, “Well, I’ve been wanting to read that book for a while now, but I never manage to get a copy before they sell out.”

He considers the book before saying, “Is that so?”

Your co-worker calls for you before you can respond, saying that they need help with manning the cash register.

After almost an hour of helping with scanning barcodes and packing books, the blue-haired man stands in front of the counter.

He holds up Child of the Roses, “If it’s alright, I’d like to make this a separate purchase.”

Figures he’d buy the book if the reviews and your excited ramblings are anything to go off of. While you were sad that the chance to purchase the novel had once again slipped away, at least you could be reassured that it would be in good hands.

After giving him the book and the receipt, he simply hands them both back to you, “You were quite passionate when you described the book to me. I thought I should buy it for you before someone else gets it.”

This has to be a dream, “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I mean don’t get me wrong! I’m grateful, but don’t you want to read this, too?”

A smile graces his face, “Of course. You helped me find what I was looking for this afternoon, so this is the least I can do for you.”

When you finally get home and settle down for the evening, you open the book, intending to get through just one chapter.

That’s when you find a calling card in between the pages of the index and the first chapter, the name Kamisato Ayato in immaculate handwriting on one side along with his number.

On the back was a message: I’m actually currently reading Child of the Roses, so I have no need for another copy. But if you’d like, we could go out sometime and read it together. What do you say?

Childe

Most days there's not really much to do aside from the usual talking to customers, restocking the shelves, and helping close up shop. 

So sometimes you read just to pass the time. 

You’re just finishing up a chapter when the door to the store opens.

Ajax, you learn his name, is a massive flirt. Instead of talking to you like a normal person, he instantly says the cheesiest pickup line you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t need glasses,” he says, leaning on the counter, “ ‘cause I can clearly see that we were meant to be.”

It’s way too early for this shit, “... sir are you going to buy a book or not?”

He tips his head back and laughs, “C’mon! You have to admit that one was good.”

And he’s come by the store every so often ever since.

He’s quite the chatterbox too, talking about anything he can think of whenever you scan his items at the counter.

You learn he’s an older brother when he asks you for book recommendations for his younger siblings. His attentiveness to his siblings’ taste in literature never fails to put a smile on your face.

You also learn that he’s very knowledgeable in literature.

He comments on one of the books you’re reading during one of his visits, talking about his favorite scenes as well as discussing the characters with you.

A week of nearly daily visits turns into a month, with you getting used to his corny pick-up lines and little conversations.

But then it suddenly stops. A week passes without Ajax’s visits.

You don’t think too much of it until that one week turned into three. 

He was under no obligation to come back every day, of course. He was a customer, at the end of the day, and there was never any guarantee that he wouldn’t suddenly stop visiting the bookstore nearly every day.

But you couldn’t help feeling dejected at the thought of just never seeing him again.

Then, on one unassuming Monday afternoon, a familiar face returns to the store.

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Ajax winks at you, “Mind if you help me look for a book?”

You smile, doing your best to hide your surprise, “Good to see you’re still doing well.”

He gives a vague description of what he’s looking for: a sci-fi series that’s appropriate for his little brother Teucer, the third book to a series his sister Tonia is currently reading, and “whatever you think is good” for him.

Walking over to the shelves, you could feel his eyes on you as you started picking out the books for his siblings. A soft smile is on his face when you turn to face him, becoming wider when your eyes meet his.

“You were gone for a while,” you say, unsure of how to continue. His life is none of your business and like hell were you going to admit that you missed him.

He sighs, “Yeah. Work has been a lot these past few weeks, but now that it’s loosened up I can finally start seeing my favorite person more often.”

“Your favorite person huh?”

“Getting the chance to talk to you is the highlight of my visits. Of course you’d be my favorite person.”

He leans in close to you, “Y’know, I just realized that I’ve lost my number. So can I have yours?”

You roll your eyes, still smiling, “You could have just asked for my number like a normal person.”

Ajax laughs, and you find yourself wishing you could listen to it every day.

[awyeahitssam]

Harry giggles. His limbs feel lighter than usual, almost as if bubbles are making them float a bit. He can still control them, but it's a vague, interesting sort of control. Fun.

Harry lets sleep take him. The world whirls around him in sparks of disorienting colours, and Harry watches with a broad smile. It should make him dizzy, but he feels in the middle of something fantastic—a watercolour painting come to life. It's brilliant. Elating.

It stops as suddenly as it starts. Voldemort stares at him from across a desk. "Harry Potter," he sounds almost surprised.

Harry blinks at him. He still feels light, like he is floating, but also distantly sad. "Are you okay?" he asks thoughtlessly.

Confusion masks itself behind anger. Voldemort masks everything behind anger. "Pardon?"

"I’d never felt as good as I did a moment ago," Harry confesses, drawing closer to the Dark Lord. Red eyes track him suspiciously. Harry's chest aches. "But now, looking at you… it makes me so sad."

Thoughtlessly, Harry reaches out, and Voldemort lets him. It’s how Harry knows this can’t be real. That it’s just a silly, drunken dream. Their fingers intertwine, though Voldemort’s hand remains stiff and cold in his gentle grip.

"Aren’t you lonely?" Harry wonders. "Is that yours I feel pressing in, or my own? Even without you," Harry smiles, crooked and small, brushing an irreverent thumb over his scar, "I’m sure it’d be there. People always isolate the freak."

Voldemort’s hand twitches in Harry’s, and he hums, focus dropping from red eyes to trace the long fingers with his own.

"Everybody’s frightened of you. You isolate yourself from friendship, from love, from time itself... don’t you want, Voldemort? I can feel that you do—you’re never satisfied, are you? Will it ever be enough? The world at your feet, no attachments, nobody to challenge you—is that your dream, or your nightmare?"

"You’re speaking nonsense, boy," Voldemort says, but it comes out odd. Stilted. "You presume much."

"Is it presumption when I feel you?" Harry asks genuinely, brows drawing together, hand lifting to press over his heart. Voldemort is dragged with him, pulled a bit over the desk, and Harry blinks in surprise before realizing he still has a grip on the other’s hand. He lets go slowly, and Voldemort pulls back with a scowl.

"You are drunk," the wizard snaps with disgust. "You know nothing of what Lord Voldemort feels."

Harry finds the words… annoying.

"You feel so loudly, though," he returns sharply, moving forward, sliding onto Voldemort’s desk. Ink spills over—Voldemort hisses in annoyance and the stain is gone with a thought—dreams are a magic of their own—Voldemort’s forehead is cold and smooth. Harry bears the man's mark. He presses his scarred head to the smooth. Long, clawed fingers are wrapped around his wrist. His throat.

"Right here, always pressing in," Harry continues, heedless of his position, precarious as it is. "You feel so much it hurts, Voldemort. You hate so much. You’re never just happy. And I was, am, could be. So just take some, won’t you?"

Red eyes are narrow, intent, fascinated as they dart over Harry’s face, trying to gather his meaning. "How do you propose I do that?"

"How does one normally take pleasure?" Harry wonders. Voldemort grimaces, pulling away quickly, and it takes Harry’s bubbling mind a moment to put what he said to context.

"No," he chokes on a laugh, "I’m not asking you to—to snog. To fuck. Just open yourself up. You’re so good at taking, usually, but all you’re doing is giving. Don’t you want to feel like this? Light? Thrilled?"

"You don’t even know what you sound like, do you?" The question is rhetorical. Voldemort’s hand tightens over his throat, until Harry’s breathing grows thinner. "You wish for me to let your happiness pass my Occlumency, as though you have not just slipped through yourself. As if you have no method to make Lord Voldemort feel your pleasure; as if you want to give Lord Voldemort pleasure at all."

Harry touches the hand on his neck, slowly tightening with Voldemort’s rant, and a spark lights his fingers. Voldemort’s hand spasms before it drops. Harry takes a deep breath, glaring balefully. His light-hearted air has faded.

"Perhaps I would give you pleasure so your misery would be all the worse for it," he bites out. The world is fuzzy, but no longer from alcohol. From being choked. Even in his dreams, his life is threatened by this man.

"A pretty plot," says Voldemort. There is something very condescending in his voice; he is clearly looking down on Harry. Doubting him. It’s nothing new, but it makes the sting of anger grow in him. "Very well. If you can conjure happiness as you peer into the face of your death, Harry Potter, then do. Make me feel it, if you can."

Harry’s nails bite into his palm and release. He takes a breath and lets his eyes flutter closed. He focuses.

Happiness. What does it feel like? Like floating, as he was moments ago, or like getting an anticipated hug—not his first, not all the ones he flinched away from, but a hug from Hermione when they’ve almost just died. An arm around Ron’s waist as the boy drapes one around his shoulder. Laughing, hysterical and joyous, by the fireplace. Finding his wand. Finding out he was escaping the Dursleys. Happiness is a brief thing, drenched in the shadows of his life. Happiness is contentment, even if it is a momentary thing. It is the pleasure of a perfectly prepared cuppa; from—nonono, not going there.

Harry wraps the sensations up, one by one, like he’s re-wrapping hard candy, and throws them at Voldemort. Into Voldemort. All but one—his favourite one, his happiest one. That, he grasps, and it’s actual candy in his hand, a sweet that he looks down to, and then unwraps, and he’s moving forward, intent eyes raising, and Voldemort is already gasping, a bit, at the suddenness of it all—of pleasure.

Harry’s lips curl and he pushes the candy into the slightly agape mouth of the Dark Lord a bit cruelly, shoving it deep. He pulls back quickly, before sharp teeth can gnash on his fingers, and watches on as Voldemort experiences pleasure. As Voldemort softens, and sighs, relaxation in every hard line of him, mouth sucking almost greedily around the treasure that Harry has placed within it. Now he’s drunk on it, Harry thinks, horribly pleased to see Voldemort this way.

It’s not real, but still, he hovers on Voldemort’s desk and observes the pink brushing his cheekbones with fascination. He observes the way red eyes roll back a bit, and the way a long, pale throat swallows convulsively down on a slowly dissolving candy until there is nothing left.

Lashless eyes open, dark and suddenly staring. Red barely peeks out from behind the dilation of his pupil, and Harry’s smile is a smug thing.

“There’s your pleasure,” Harry whispers to him, like a secret. “I hope you enjoyed yourself. It can only get worse from here.”

“Worse?” murmurs Voldemort, staring at Harry intently. “You think there is worse you can do, Harry, then give me that and take it back?”

Belonging, thinks Harry, quite suddenly. He’d given Voldemort his favourite thing, the thing that he had been looking for, for a very long time. Longing, and peace, and laughter, and a burgeoning happiness that had very rarely managed to emanate past its conception. He had given Voldemort, too, his desperate hope for things to get better—and then he’d made them get better—and now Voldemort had lost it all.

Suddenly, impossibly, Harry’s eyes are liquid. I’m cruel, thinks Harry, gaze falling from red. There is nothing so cruel as what he has done, and he had done it so carelessly, so happily, so smugly, because he had felt slighted. Had felt wronged by this man who had ceaselessly wronged him.

Slowly, Harry looks back up at Voldemort, who is watching his tears with an expression of keen interest. 

“Has it made you sad to give your enemy your pleasure, Harry Potter?” Voldemort asks, gripping his wrist and drawing him near enough that Harry barely keeps his bottom on the desk rather than Voldemort’s lap.

“It makes me sad to treat you with such cruelty,” Harry corrects, “when I know you will never allow yourself to experience such pleasure again.”

“Would I not?” breathes Voldemort, eyes still dark instead of bright.

“You won’t,” whispers Harry. “It'd require you to trust someone. To have faith in them. And that, I know you’re incapable of, because you are a man but don’t see yourself as one, and gods do not have friends, nor equals.”

“Equals?” Voldemort’s breath brushes Harry’s brow, his stinging scar. “But what if Lord Voldemort were to draw you from the depths, Harry? Raise you from the pale mortality until you, too, are exalted? Then you may give Lord Voldemort what he so deserves; give me pleasure, Harry Potter,” Voldemort enunciates awfully. “Give me it all.”

I wrote this one of the first times I ever drank, and just expanded upon it a bit. I'm honestly really fond of finding these little things I've forgotten.

[thethingswedotomorrow]

Aziraphale and Crowley are both idiots, with a severe lack of common sense on any given day.

But these idiots were both tasked with watching and guiding the new humans God had created, for better or for worse. What they didn't realize was just how unprepared they both were for this task.

Before being sent out to Eden, they were BOTH given a crash course on the newest creatures, (humans??) roaming around the garden. Just the essentials, don't poke here, this does that, avoid this bit, this part leaks, etc.

Aziraphale's lesson was much more formal, only highlighting the parts of the humans that were deemed 'essential' by the Archangels

Having to sit through Gabriel explaining the purpose of a tongue for hours was enough to make anyone zone out, let alone a principality who had just been told that the place he was being sent to would be full of creatures that were filled with an odd combination of liquid at all times. Good Lord, how was he meant to protect these humans when they could explode at any time?

Aziraphale had checked out mentally by the time they started covering exactly what the eyebrows were for

Hell decided to take a more hands-on approach.

By hands-on, they meant having Dagon draw what they assumed a human might vaguely look like, and then explaining the best ways to torture the squiggly bits

Crowley spent most of the class trying to decide whether the drawing looked more like a horse or a soggy blanket crumpled into a pile

(Crowley had only recently learned about the 'horse' idea, and he was decidedly not impressed by them.)

(He could get behind this blanket idea, however. He'd have to check that one out in a few years.)

So once they'd both reached the Garden, and checked the place out for themselves, they both came to the same conclusion.

They had some SERIOUS questions about what was going on here

Naturally (and reluctantly for one of them), they gravitated towards each other. They both knew asking either of their sides would imply that they didn't pay attention to the classes. And neither of them wanted to have a repeat lesson, thank you.

"Ah, yes, hello, Crawley was it?"

"Obviously, still me. Be odd for me to be someone else, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, well. I was wondering..if you had..perhaps....noticed anything about these humans?"

"Noticed what? They're awfully boring. Told me 'get up there and make some trouble', but all they do is sleep and eat things and walk around. Made 'em trip a few times, but it got old by the 5th time around honestly."

"Well I don't think they're meant to do much more. If they were, then they would have. As is God's plan. Oh there is no need for dramatics Crawley."

It was at that point Crawley sighed VERY aggressively, flopped down onto a rather soft looking patch of grass, and looked up at Aziraphale.

"Was there a point here, Angel, or have you just come to preach?"

"I do wonder, however, if God was perhaps made aware of the issues in the hardware, as it were."

"What are you on about?"

"Yesterday, I saw Eve walking around, admiring all the plants and such. They really are truly beautiful, you know. Have you seen them yet?"

"Nah, haven't gotten over there yet. Mostly been hanging around on the rocks, very warm there. Why? What'd she do?"

"Well, she walked up to the flowers, and..then she just..sort of...." Aziraphale trails off, very hesitant about how to describe the situation.

"Sort of what?" Now Crowley is curious. Always been his downfall, that sort of thing.

"She just... she stuck her face into them."

"She WHAT?"

"Exactly! Stuck her face into them, no warning or anything. That poor, poor woman could have been killed. Who knows what those flowers will do to her tongue."

"HER WHAT?"

It was at this point that they both realized that they may not have gotten the same education on the humans and their anatomy.

"So, they aren't actually going to explode? Oh thank God."

"Well, I mean they could, I suppose. If you poked them enough, or shook them up really hard. Y'think we should try that?"

"Crawley, no."

Between both of them, they gathered enough information about the humans to have a general idea of what they should and shouldn't do to help them survive

(Crowley might enjoy watching them trip, but he's a Demon, not a monster. There'd be no point going and killing them right after they launch the whole program.)

It turned out that what they had gathered between Heaven and Hell was quite literally the bare minimum of human physiology.

They stuck together from then on, determined to find out everything they could about the humans.

The first time Eve sneezed after smelling the flowers, Aziraphale jumped up so quickly that he broke the rock he was using as a seat clean in half

Crawley and Aziraphale stood perfectly still on the wall, waiting for something else to happen.

All Eve did was sniff a bit and walk away.

Aziraphale turned to Crowley, eyes wide and full of terror. They both stared at each other for a few minutes before they both silently sat down, contemplating what they had assumed was a very near-miss explosion.

The next day, when Adam stepped into the pool of water at the edge of the Garden, the angel and demon watched with the utmost attention.

"D'ya think they can breathe in there?"

"In the water?"

"Yeah, those slimy things at the bottom seem to be doin' just fine without coming up top. Maybe the humans can do that too."

"Crawley, those are fish. The humans need the air to live. I think."

"Fiiiiiish? Fsh. Fiisssshhh. Nah, don't like that. Slimy things works better, who names these things? Was it you?"

"I'm afraid that was not my department, unfortunately. I like to think I would have gone with a different choice than 'fish', if I had any say in the names."

"Mm. He's been down there for a bit, yeah?"

"Who? Oh, him. Has he? Oh. Oh Lord, he has. Adam? Adam?"

One small miracle later, the humans and the non-humans had both learned that they did need the air to live.

The day Eve and Adam laughed together was a good day.

'What're they even laughin' at?" Crowley wiggles/walks* his way over to where Aziraphale is sat on the edge of the wall, watching the humans.

*He's still figuring out the whole leg thing, far too complicated if you ask him

"If I had to guess, I'd say they're laughing at the state of Adam."

"How'd he even get like that? Last I saw, he was running around near that pond, how's that happen? They were on your watch, Angel."

"Ah, while you went to look at the plants, he fell. Apparently when dirt and water mix, it becomes very sticky. Mud, I believe it's called."

"Blegh. Way to go Angel, I left for five minutes and you let him get all mud-ed. Looks awful, don't see why they're laughin'. They've always got somethin' stuck to em."

Despite his words, Crowley couldn't help but smile at the humans. Something so ridiculous and they stood there laughing at it, having all the time in the world to explore and find out new things.

Aziraphale noticed this, and smiled as well. Mostly because of the humans and how fond he was already of them

But also, at Crowley and a new type fondness for him, as well.

(Though it would take many, many years for him to admit that)

Crowley and Aziraphale sat and laughed, watching these new humans bumble around and laugh, being happy to just exist and discover everything there was to discover. If Crowley snuck glances at the angel while he was laughing, he'd never admit it.

Maybe tomorrow, Crowley thought, he'd see what the deal was with that big apple tree.

[crazyk-imagine]

I Have to Follow my Heart

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Addams Witch!reader

Characters: Addams Witch!reader, Xavier Thorpe, Wednesday Addams, Joseph Crackstone

Briefly mentioned: Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams, Uncle Fester, Thing, Enid Sinclar, Bianca Barclay, Eugene Otinger, Tyler Galpin aka the hyde, Marilyn Thornhill (Laurel Gates)

Warnings: Supernatural fight, reader has visions, powers, mentions of Uncle Fester’s electricity powers, sacrificing oneself (more or less), bits and pieces of the last episode, the battle between Joseph Crackston and Wednesday, Xavier gets reader a phone, friends going through a tough time, Xavier and reader going through the motions of Wednesday’s theory

Word Count: 2,032

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At times I wished I had the same emotionless expression as my “cousin.” One might ask why I put air quotes around the word, it’ simple. 

Her uncle Fester happened to stumble upon myself and mother’s violin when I was merely three months old during one of his “adventures”. 

As I previously said, I wish I could copy her expression, especially now. You slam your journal shut, turning to look at your clock. 

You grab your jacket and exit the room, making your way towards Xavier’s art shed. Your mind is blank but thoughts float around your mind, you wonder what it is he wanted to talk to you about. 

With Wednesday firmly believing that he is the hyde, it makes you more weary of being alone with him… in the woods but if you can talk to him in his safe space so he doesn’t “totally freak out” as Enid would say, you believe it would do you good. 

“Do you believe me?” Xavier spins around to look at you. 

You gulp, this is not where you saw this going right after entering the shed. “I don’t- I don’t know,” you say, giving him your honest answer. 

“What do you mean you don’t know? It’s either you believe that I’m not the monster or you agree with your cousin,” he hisses out the word you’ve grown accustomed to calling the pigtailed girl. 

You ignore his gaze and opt to look at the floor. “I- I,” the thought you had written down in your journal crosses your mind. 

“I don’t think you’d do all these things, but you have to admit the evidence she has does make it highly possible for you to be the hyde.” 

He furrows his brows, face slowly becoming more void of emotion. “If you really believe that I’m the monster then why are you here?” 

You raise your head. “I- I needed to see it for myself.” 

“See what?” He asks with a tired tone. 

“I- what’s that?” You point over to the sketchbook with a flower bookmark sticking out of it. 

“That- that’s nothing. Why is that important now?” He’d never admit it out loud, but he was always impressed with how your attention could be drawn elsewhere within a second, even if it isn’t the most appropriate time for this to happen. 

You ignore him and walk over towards it, opening the page to find a drawing of yourself playing your deceased mothers’ violin. You reach for the flower and find yourself thrown into a vision. 

How odd, Wednesday’s the one who usually experiences these, at least from what you can remember. It is also weird how whenever she would have one, you would pass out. 

Eugene’s screams flood your mind. 

The cave where the monster hides is on fire. 

The hyde’s wide and red rimmed eyes. 

Red boots… red boots? 

-

You wake up, blinking as your eyes adjust to the moonlit room. “How did I get here?” 

The numerous footsteps echoing throughout the hallway draw you out of bed. 

You open the door and listen to the scared and panicked shrieks of the other students, rushing over towards the railing you find the red aura of the siren song on the lower floors. 

Crackstone. 

Your head snaps over towards the side. You furrow your brows at the sight of a pale dressed Wednesday, not your cousin but- “Goody?” 

She nods. “You must help her.” 

“Help who?” 

“The key.” 

You remember the pigtailed girl mentioning this to you, you know exactly who she’s referring to. “Where is she?” 

“I am going to her now, but you must guide her.” 

“Guide her? Guide her how?” 

“His black heart will end it… I must go to her now.” She starts to disappear. 

“No, Goody. Wait!” You sigh and look down. 

Bianca’s head snaps up. 

You block her song and search for a window. At times like this, you’re happy you’ve climbed the walls of the school.  

 -

You stand on the edge of the roof just before the upper hallway where you can see Bianca and a few others. You don’t feel good, something’s going on with the black-haired girl, the urge to scream is on the tip of your tongue but you fight it as you protect the students. 

You place a temporary shield around the area, preventing the fire from reaching any of the students and jump down. “Crackstone!” 

He turns to you, the evil look in his eye should send shivers down your spine but you don’t let it, not wanting him to harm anyone. 

“Another one. How nice.” The revived Joseph Crackstone taunts you. 

“Don’t you think this is a bit much?” 

He aims his magical staff at you, luckily you are able to block it. “I am ridding the earth of you abominations!” 

“You’re an abomination too!” 

“Lies!” 

“Your descendant raised you, brought you back from the dead!” 

You spin around, avoiding his magic. “You have magic! You are now the very thing you despise yourself! How can you get rid of what keeps your heart beating at this very moment!” 

“I am doing what should have been done years ago.” 

“You’re going to die, and your magic will not be able to save you.” You raise your hand, trying to telepathically pull the staff away from him. 

“Stay away from her.” 

Why does this voice sound so familiar? 

The arrow flies past your head, in front of the resurrected man, only for him to use his magic and flip it. 

You cannot let it hit him or anyone else and put yourself before him to stop it. You spin around, landing on your back unable to catch your breath. 

Xavier runs towards you, lifting your upper body off the ground. 

“Get the others out of here,” you tell him once you can breathe again. 

“What?” He furrows his brows, mouth curling in disbelief. 

“You need to get the other students out of here. We cannot lose anyone else.” 

“I don’t-” 

“I have to help her,” you whisper. 

He helps you up, “I don’t like this idea.” 

“Good thing,” you snap the arrow and chuck it onto the ground. “You aren’t going to be here to see the rest of it… be careful.” 

“You, too.” You push him away when you sense Joseph aiming the damn staff at you. 

You stand beside Wednesday. “We have to aim for his-” 

“Heart, yes,” she cuts you off. “I didn’t realize you were aware.” 

“Let’s say, seeing the dead does have its perks at times. I expect no tears from you at my funeral.” 

“Don’t-” 

Xavier turns at her shout, his heart drops. 

You run at him as Bianca stabs the man in the back. You rub your hands together, thankful for Fester teaching you how to use his trick now more than ever. You hold him in place and call out for her. “Now, Wednesday!” 

She lifts the sword and stabs him in his black heart. 

You can’t remove your hands from him, not until he fully disappears even then you fall, eyes closing. 

The hands on your shoulders and whoever’s attempting to do CPR bring you out of your quick reenergize nap. 

You open your eyes and give three a tired smile. 

The artist helps you sit up and continues to hold you even as Wednesday wraps her arms around you. 

You smile and kiss the top of her head, letting her know it’s over (you hope, unless Nevermore isn’t done with you all). 

She forces herself off you, letting Bianca and Xavier help you up. 

You nod to the siren. “Let’s go find the others.” 

-

The four of you walk out of the school, searching for the waiting party. 

You lean against the boy throughout the entire walk. 

He hasn’t said a word to you, and you don’t know what you could say to him other than, “I’m sorry.” 

Enid rushes over to hug your cousin, giving you a moment to talk to him. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I believed you were the very thing that would terrorize the school when I shouldn’t have. I should have followed my heart.” 

“I think I can forgive you. I mean, you did take an arrow to the shoulder for me.” 

“And I would do it again if it meant I had your trust.” 

He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt over my trust.” 

“I should have listened to you.” 

The corner of his lip’s tugs upward, “yeah, maybe. But now that you’ve saved the school, I think I can understand where you were coming from.” 

“No, don’t do that.” 

“What?” 

“Don’t just brush it off, I know what I did wasn’t the nicest or most respectful thing to do when I’ve known you and have been your friend for three years. I know you; I have for years, and I shouldn’t have let someone else’s theories get into my head to ruin that trust.” 

He nods, tucking the hair blocking his view behind his ear. “I’ll take that into consideration.” 

Your lips twitch, “that’s all I ask.” 

Enid rushes over to you, hugging you not nearly as tightly as your cousin but enough to let you know how much she cares about you.

 -

You leave Wednesday to finish her novel while Thing finishes packing for her. You wonder around, waiting until it’s time to leave. 

“The feeling of eyes on me brings a chill up my spine and not in the fun way,” you think. “That would be a good thought to right down when I return to my room.” 

You turn, facing the stairs to find him watching you which may be creepy to some, but you find it to be rather sweet. 

He waves and leans against the railing. 

You walk up the stairs, wanting to talk to him before your dragged out of here. “Are your parents coming to pick you up?” 

He shrugs, “probably not… I got you something.” 

“Really?” You raise a brow. 

“It’s not much but it’ll be faster than the letters." He lifts the lid off the box, showing you your new phone. 

“Don’t expect a call,” you inform him, not wanting to hurt his feeling. You must really care about him if you’re taking his feelings into consideration. 

“I’m not.” 

You squint your eyes at him, “seems you know me well.” 

“That and,” he tucks his hair behind his ears. “I know you don’t like new things… at least, until you get the hang of them.” 

“I guess we’ll have to see about this then.” 

“I believe in you.” 

“I trust that you’ll have a normal summer?” 

“It might be fun if I get a phone call.” 

“Don’t push it.” 

He smiles, having a feeling that you’ll learn to use the phone faster to call him. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine. I’ve decided to let it heal on its own.” 

“No magic?” 

“I believe it would be wise to save my energy. I have a feeling we’re just getting started with Nevermore and all it has to offer.” You take the phone out of the box and hold it. “How do you use this dark box you call a phone?” 

He chuckles, taking it from you, “why are you calling it a dark box exactly?” 

“It’s painfully obvious.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that. I already programmed my phone number in here. What exactly you were looking for?” 

“I want to send you my aunt Morticia and Uncle Gomez’ address. I will be staying with Wednesday and her family this summer; we believe it would be wise if we stay together.” 

“Okay,” he shows you how to use the phone. 

“I cannot guarantee I’ll be able to remember all of this.” 

“As long as you can turn it on and remember to charge it, you’ll be alright,” he assures you. 

“Do you know if you’re ability can work over the phone?” 

He shrugs. “I’ve never tried before.” 

“Perhaps it could be our summer activity?” 

He nods, not at all hiding his smile when you said, “our activity”. It seems as though there’s a chance for him to ask you out in the near future. “Maybe.”

[yorshie]

Congrats! The trashpile is getting bigger and bigger omg.

I would love to see Raph with 24 and 31, a lot of Romance for big red bc he deserves it

Thank you for requesting for Blurb Day, and yes, though now we've relocated to Donnie's garbage truck so we have plenty of room! We're gonna wage war against his electrical wiring. :3

You are absolutely right Big Red Does Deserve Romance! He deserves a chance to be soft! He deserves to be cared for! *is hauled off my soapbox*

"C'mon, Raphie, please?" Your voice whined over the speakerphone, and Raph smiled softly at the nickname he still wasn't quite used to. "Both my roommates are gone for the month, we'll have the whole apartment to ourselves!"

"I'm suppose to be inviting you to dinner, you know? That's what this call is for."

"Mikey never gets done cooking until late, we've got plenty of time! Come over now and I'll come back with you when it's time, please?" You cooed once more, drawing out the word like you didn't know you'd already convinced him.

His fingers drummed carefully over the handle of his water jug, casting a look out of his gym area to make sure everyone else was still occupied. Mikey had turned up the radio in the kitchen, Leo and Donnie were no where to be seen.

With a little self-deprecating huff, conscious he was whipped, he gave in to your request. "Alright, sweetheart, it's a deal. But I'm only doing this cuz you're cute."

He heard the muffled 'Yes!' you tried to hide before you chirped, "see you soon!"

He ended the call, shoulders rolling to relieve the soreness that had creeped in after ending his workout, and quickly left the Lair before anyone could ask where he was headed.

He was thankful you always left the living room window unlocked for him, though the fit was usually a bit tight and he always felt like he was either giving someone on the outside a good show or he was two seconds from falling flat on his face. The way your eyes lit up to see him was worth it, however, and the way you pressed yourself against him while giving a greeting never failed to cause his heart to give a heavy thump.

He might have balked a little bit though, at the sheer amount of pampering items laid out on the coffee table in front of the tv. He spied the usual bottles you kept for your 'girlie nights', as he liked to call them, and turned a wide eyed, worried look towards you.

You snorted, the sound at odds to the way you buried your face against him. "Cut the look Raph, it's just the two of us, remember? No need to be shy." You reached up on tiptoes, and he dipped automatically, let you press smooches against his nearest cheekbone before the sensation caught his attention and he returned your affection with a proper kiss.

He tried to deepen it, tried to entice you with a slide of his tongue over your lower lip, but you drew back with a tsk. "Nu uh, big boy, you're getting pampered tonight, no matter what. I'll let you kiss me after we've taken off the charcoal mask."

He tilted his head back out of reach with a pout, but you only tugged on the tails of his mask, leading him over to the couch and forcing him to sit.

He tried once more to distract you, curling an arm around your waist and scooping you up against his plastron. He took a moment to scrub his snout against your neck, breathing in your scent, thankful that, while you'd remembered to turn up your heat, you'd also worn something that allowed him to take advantage of the natural warmth you put off.

He was almost convinced he had succeeded, and the two of you could maybe just cuddle, kiss, and watch a movie, when the tick of a bottle opening sounded near the left side of his head, and he sighed roughly.

"Fine, fine, get it over with, but," he caught your wrist, his grip soft despite the way it swallowed your whole hand, and asked, "we can cuddle afterwards?"

You smiled, and he was caught in the happiness blooming across your face. You leaned forward, pressed your mouth to his once more in a lingering kiss, before you slid his mask off his face. "Course we can, Red. I'll keep you warm, no worries." You pecked him once more. "And besides, you'll feel good, you know you will."

Inside, Raph silently hoped his brothers would be too distracted to notice how he smelled, but a larger part of him simply relaxed, taking comfort from the way your hands glided softly over his face, the care you took when touching him.

And, unfortunately, the charcoal mask did feel pretty good.

[delicrieux]

𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫, 7. year one: up to mid october, 1972

pairing for this chapter—f!lestrange!reader x sirius black warnings for this chapter—sum swear & sirius being a prat word count—2.5k

a short awaited confrontation and a new friend.

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | ttp masterlist | < back | next >

over the course of the month, it seems that the sight of you has become repulsive to sirius. he could not bear to look at you for more than it took to notice you in the crowd or to recognize your voice echoing before the body belonging to it reached him. he’d flee, usually, and refrain, in a completely un-sirius fashion, from making a gigantic scene. this would have been odd to you if only the pain of seeing his hastily retreating back wasn’t too much.

don’t be so harsh with me please, you’d want to tell him, i’ve done nothing but love you.

instead, “what. is. with. you,” and each word punctuated with an angry smack to his forearm. he glares, and he wiggles out the way of your unrelenting pursuit to beat him into submission. his friends watch frozen, stuck somewhere between amusement and desire to pull sirius back into the safe confines of the gryffindor tower. you will not allow them. not this time, at least, “you stuck up, insufferable—“

“piss off,” he nurses his bruises, though you aren’t strong enough to leave any.

you falter in your step, but the anger doesn’t die. he must know how his look wounds. he must. “piss off?” you parrot, and it rings much smaller and fainter than his had, “piss off? that’s all i get from you?”

“expect something different?” he bites, and bites, and bites, and he maims and mars until there is a thread between your hands and his heart thin as ivory wire. his eyes appraise and they dance and they hate, “why don’t you run back to your regulus.”

ah. there it is. the venom.

“sirius-“ james starts, and both of your glares cut him into two.

“shut up,” the both of you, again, together. you mirror his dark look and try to decide which words of the infinite welling quickly are most fitting. they sink with and through you; an anger and a hurt not meant to be felt by someone so inexperienced. when you and sirius argue, it is never as dire, even if it feels like it was. sirius never starts rows he cannot win, even if it’s him that loses most in the end, “family matter.”

james looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else but in the windy courtyard, shadowed by the cold arches of a loggia. peter, cheeks and ears burning, nervously rubs his hands together to dispel the cold. remus, already, is further ways down and watching, waiting for the rest to catch up. you won’t let them, not yet, not till you say your piece and abandon first, because father said the last word is always the winner.

you speak in french because you know he hates to hear it, because it reminds of home and you know he can’t stand home like he can’t stand you now, and it will hurt him, and it will make you happy, “regulus was right about you. you’ve become unthinkably cruel.”

he curls his lip, and it is with so much spite that it makes your teeth ache. his body rolls into itself, ready to explode and spit up his scorn all over your face. the insult must teeter on his tongue. you're more than ready for it. but something cracks and something flips and he reels back a bit, a show of restraint you thought him absent of.

"yeah, regulus, regulus always knows best, doesn't he?" your french mimicked in his mouth is dense, like syrup, "regulus, darling, regulus," a sneer that draws his lip to the high planes of his cheekbones, and a head tilting movement that is patronizing and obscene. it reminds you of his mother, "your regulus, isn't he the fucking best."

"he's not mine," you state tartly.

"hard to believe when he follows after you like a dog," he bites, and bites, and bites, but even through the layers upon layers, the soreness permeates and leaves you stricken into a stupor that only sirius can create, "listens and does everything you say. can't he think for himself. attached to your shoulder like some blithering pest."

you blink back the anger in your eyes. you are not going to cry, you tell yourself. if you do, then he will win, but he always does.

the boys stare at you. you don't know what to say. the feeling of it is tight and burns like an ulcer, "what has gotten into you? why do you hate me? i haven't-" your lips work through their turmoil, "-i haven't done anything to you."

he waves you off, dismissive. his hands tremble with some unspoken rage. "stop bothering me and go back to regulus. he's probably already looking for you."

the end of the conversation hangs heavily between you. sirius sniffs, and turns away in that blasé manner he always has with him, as if all life were a joke. his posture is too stiff and his features are too cold and he joins remus first as james and peter linger. you shake.

"i, uhm," james begins, but your glare silences him again. slowly, carefully, he nudges peter, "c'mon."

they leave, but james looks back. you miss it, head hung in defeat. your emotions threaten to burst free and splinter all over the stone. you think, in a hurry, how could you ever cover them up – with your hands, your body? is it the aftermath already, where everything is too obvious for pretence?

when it rains, it pours. it always has and you suspect it always will.

*

naturally, you are inconsolable. what a great big joke. no broom closet nor dusty cavern of the castle is familiar enough to hide in, and you cloak, despite its expanse, can hardly protect from sore eyes. the loo it is, locked in some stall and hiccupping. marzipan had mentioned finding a hufflepuff crying not a week in. she thought it amusing, and you did, too – who could ever abate decency and sob in the loo? what a terrible ploy for attention, had the girl expected consolation? no such could ever be found in marzipan, why, she said, and she said it proudly, she laughed quite loud and the crying stopped.

you would die on the spot if someone found you. it would feel like uncovering a horrible secret, being exposed in such a way. aren’t you a grown up? your birthday is soon, on a cold october night. grownups always breathe fine – besides your ditzy aunts – but you find there not being enough air. so much space and so little of it.

you fan yourself, and you heave, and in a tantrum you tussle out your cloak and throw it onto the gleaming white tiles.  your cheeks burn and there’s an ache in the apex of your head. crying like this, over a boy, no less? sirius, of all? rabastan would point and laugh, point and laugh, point and laugh.

there’s a knock on your stall’s door and you nearly topple over in a scurry to silence yourself.

“hi, sorry,” the voice is unfamiliar, but it sounds kind, “are you alright?”

perfect, not only have you embarrassed yourself, you’ve aroused the suspicion of an idiot. there’s a gentle creak on the wood, as if a weight has settled. an ear, perhaps, pressed onto the surface, but for what?

you will your shaky hands to settle by your stomach. the fingers pinch and pool on the woollen fabric of your sweater. you gulp, but it gets stuck, and the silence stretches, so still.

“i-yes,” you manage. this won’t do, the tears cling to your mouth, “i’m, i'm okay.”

“do you need some water?”

if you weren’t so distraught, you’d delight at the curtsy. stupidity must be contagious because you shake your head.

“no, no,” you say after a pause.

“a tissue perhaps?”

“i'm fine,” seems you have managed to locate your wits. from some hellish depths, no doubt. swiftly, you retrieve your cloak, “thank you.”

“’s no worries,” the voice pipes. it belongs to a girl, you think, who doesn't budge, and, instead, waits. it seems your dramatics have riled someone. even the staff would scold your sorry condition, all snot and tears and shaking limbs – quite undignified, "can you tell me why you're crying?"

oh, merlin, how wonderful, the prodding and the poking and the horrible sympathy. are you so pitiable? perhaps. in this state. it's still hard to believe a complete stranger has found themselves so comfortable, "if i say i'm not crying will you go?"

the girl laughs, light and tittering. for a moment, it startles you, too, "not very likely."

the air remains stagnant, as if it's thick and spinning. the echoes of your sniffles bounce along the walls. you could tell her to piss off. you've heard it enough in the span of the last hour.

"i had a fight with my friend," you say eventually, "i think he hates me."

"did you do something to make him hate you?"

your forehead grazes the stall door. it leaves a cold spot and it makes you wince, "no."

"hmm," there is a sound of shuffling and more creaking, "well, then i wouldn't be very worried. he sounds like a dick, and what you need friends like that for?"

a great deal, actually. what did you think you were doing these years, clinging to his arm and curling into his bed when it rains? "what am i supposed to do?"

"beat him up, i imagine, and sort his sorry arse out."

you snort, though not very amused, "tried that."

"good start," you imagine her nodding and crossing her arms, "now, if i were you, i'd hex him into tomorrow and we'll never hear from him again."

"sounds wicked," you lament. the thought has crossed your mind, but revenge crumbles into some mushy, pitiful mess if you think on it too long.

"positively evil," she agrees. the silence returns, but it's comfortable, "i’ve got parchment in case you wanna practice curses."

a corner of your mouth quirks. your chest aches, but it's no longer full and painful, "that's alright, thank you."

"always wanted to be an accomplice," you hear the smile in her voice, "no trouble at all."

a final stretch of quiet. it allows you to breathe, really breathe, and pull yourself into order, as it were. it's no pretty sight, the state of you, but it no longer compares to how you first came in, a crying mess. when you open the stall, and face the girl for the first time, a kind face greets you. her brown skin is flush, hair twisted into two plaited horns that are gathered into a half bun, the rest pinned around her head. your nose twitches, itchy.

she grins, "there you are. no longer crying."

the cold from the running faucet burns against your cheeks. the face that peers back at you from the mirror is dishevelled. red-rimmed eyes and wet splotches all over. you grimace, "look like a sordid mess."

"well, yes, but, like a normal sordid mess. like, almost pretty normal," she stands behind. a red lion's emblem is embroidered into her uniform. she tilts her head, "like, i look way worse when i do it. at least you cry prettily."

"oh, you think so?" you turn to her, "no one's ever said that."

her nose wrinkles, but the mirth isn't gone from her eyes, "well, don't suppose you make a habit of sobbing in front of others. lest you wouldn't have barricaded yourself in the stall."

you hum, "quite the excellent point."

she flashes her teeth and nods proudly, "of course, got many," there's a slight silence where she appraises you, "you're lestrange, right? i've seen you in my classes," she asks as though she knows, and extends her hand for you to shake, "i'm dorcas. meadowes. gryffindor.”

“slytherin,” you respond, but shake her hand anyway.

“can tell,” dorcas says, that same lilt of a smile on her lips, “you wear it with pride.”

yes, of course, because that is what lestrange do. her family name is unrecognizable, but you don't think to wonder on it much further. her eyes are friendly and warm, and she takes to fixing the wayward strands of your hair while you dab a bit of tissue paper to your nose. a few seconds go by, and she glances at you from under the hair fallen onto her forehead, "i still have parchment, and we could still get you those curses down."

"haven't the ink to draw any, unfortunately," you reply.

"hm. next time then," dorcas decides for herself, and makes for the door, "think a walk to the kitchens might be in order?" she leaves her invitation open-ended, her gaze expectant, "could use a warm cinnamon bun."

you wonder about her, dorcas meadowes, with the shiny dark eyes and plaits and how well she talks to strange girls who cry in bathroom stalls. "alright," you accept, the smile on your face not as strained, nor sad, nor angry, "lead the way."

[higgyisobsessed]

rescue corps but they're CATS!!!! PLOT TWIST I'm also just putting funny little notes about them because I love them all

Pom - the face of Dandori, the self-insert. canonically from a planet known for its Dandori Prowess

Collin - people said he looked weird in the trailer but he turned out to be the most regular and put-together of the whole corps. odd jobs, communications, the voice of reason. builds little robot gadgets in his spare time

Shepherd - feels the weight of legacy and leadership, full of fear but perseveres nonetheless, the dog trainer, has a good eye for those with potential for the team

Russ - the inventor who makes materials for structures and gadgets with the help of raw materials. super rich guy whose mom throws the rescue corps a party after every successful mission. always wears his lab coat under his space suit. oh yeah he also invented bombs and wants you to blow stuff up whenever there is any sign of a slight inconvenience (after drawing this I later learned his eyebrows are GREEN)

Dingo - the "lone wolf" who feels terrible guilt over leaving behind his crewmate. kinda lazy and obnoxious, but very skilled when he does get involved. also will single handedly win night missions with the power of blowing stuff up and punching. He drinks random glowing green goo bc it was just sitting on the table and it didn't look like anyone else was going to have it.

Yonny - doctor that loves experimenting without putting the proposal through an ethics check first. uses Dingo (apparently knew each other as friends in childhood) as an unknowing guinea pig. collin has to tell him to stop the breeding experiment program he started on the rescue mission. nicknames for everybody. nobody ever quite knows what he is thinking. the most likely to commit war crimes

Bernard - the speed limit is a SUGGESTION, he is rescuing people as the pilot with endless ENTHUSIASM and OPTIMISM! Inspiring speech for everything. Was turned into a leaf zombie and cured, so he's a bit purple now. Short king. Makes friends so easily you won't know what hit you. Thinks of the 20+ rescued castaways on the ship as one big happy family.

anyways I love Pikmin 4 and this game is everything to me