#having something in common really helps though!!

[hvbris]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Violet looked at the orderly posted by the door and gulped. He really looked ready to fight. "You're right," she whispered, "let's not give him a reason to cause us any trouble." But trouble was all around them. The common room had never been so full, nor so chaotic. Between the screaming, the laughing, the running, and the dancing, Violet wanted to disappear into the wall. Away from this terrible place.

Yes, Theo was right, something felt very wrong. Her eyes widened. "Do you?" she asked right back, her eyes drifting to Cecil again, "do you think that Cecil..." She didn't finish her sentence, she didn't need to. If Cecil had killed the orderly he thought had insulted him, they would have his blood on their hands. It was their fake note that had driven him mad with anger.

She had faced monsters and cultists, she had been inside mines and abandoned warehouses... and yet, nothing could have prepared Violet for the sheer discord that was unfolding before her eyes. She could hear her heart, beating like drums in her ears, and every time she swallowed, it felt like swallowing a handful of rocks.

The arrival of the orderly didn't help. He collapsed and threw up all over the floor, and Violet glanced at Theo, eyebrows knitted together in worry. Whatever was happening in that corridor, it had rattled a man who was used to rather shocking things. Violet didn't like that. She didn't like that at all. Could it be the Hound from yesterday...? No. It couldn't be... right? Why would it attack an orderly?

The orders, howled by the orderly who emerged into the room, startled her. After a quick look at Theo, she followed his examples and scrambled to the floor, lying down on her stomach with her hands to the side. "Yesterday... I saw a Hound in my room," she confessed in a whisper (though the ward was so loud that no one else could have heard anyway), "I'm worried that... maybe it stayed in the ward. Maybe it attacked an orderly."

"I think we need to stay in sight of that guy," Theo said of the orderly still by the door, ready for a fight and not wanting to give him any excuse to decide to go after them or to send others after them. "We can't be accused of anything if so many people can see us," but it did leave them exposed to the other patients as the common room ended up full of people.

A patient repeated the scream "He's dead!" He shouted followed by what could only really be described as a mad cackle before he jumped onto one of the tables and proceeded to start to dance while he sang the phrase merrily. Some patients clapped to no particular beat, laughing along, some were crying and starting to argue with each other. The tension in the room was rapidly rising but it felt somehow better than whatever was in the corridor, someone was wailing and bawling with tears.

Mauve was right, two deaths was weird, troubling in fact. "I think so." He couldn't remember how much time passed between deaths in the ward but two in two days did feel excessive. "This one feels different, something is really wrong." His eyes shifted from the unpredictable patients and to the corridor door way, wanting to know what had happened and who was dead. "Do you think someone killed an orderly?" The whistles had stopped and the shouting carried on and the sheer panic from the other patients who had fled the corridor was out of character. Theo felt himself shaking and his heart racing, not at all comfortable in the situation but he made sure to stick beside Mauve. Whatever was coming they would handle together, right.

One of the orderlies came tumbling through the corridor doorway, distraught as he landed on his hands and knees and promptly threw up all over the floor, making several patients start hollering and laughing. Theo looked at the man and despite hating the orderlies, seeing him so disturbed was horribly unnerving. "This is bad," Theo whispered to her nervously.

"No one goes in that corridor! No one moves!" Ordered another orderly who emerged from the corridor behind the vomiting man. "All of you get down on the floor, lie down on your stomachs, hands to your sides and to yourselves. GET DOWN!" He ordered, pulling out a baton and turning it on with a terrible crackling and then a buzz. Patients started doing as they were told and Theo stole a quick glance to Mauve to encourage her to follow suit.

[castiwls]

coach (doesn't) always know best .ᐟ

Paring; coach!patrick x single mom!reader

Synopsis; Patrick continues to be a thorn in your side whether he means to or not. When you get a phone call claiming your son had hit another kid you had a damn good idea who had a hand in this.

Notes; part two to my coach one shot kinda? I think I'm gonna write more one shots which all link into a larger story? I'm not good with full series but I have an idea where I wanna take this. ALSO named the kid Noah to help make it easier

Masterlist | coach!au masterlist

You were pissed - scratch that seething. 

You’ve been having a good week. Work had been easy and thankfully so had your son, Noah had his moments even at eight he was still prone to random emotional outbursts which always left a slight pit in your stomach.

You’d never planned to be a single parent and sometimes you really wanted to need someone else to rant to whenever you fucked up. Though this time it wasn’t you who had fucked up.

“What made you think that was okay?” Your son watched from the kitchen table, his eyes wide with the guilt you knew was eating at him. He’d been quiet ever since you’d come to pick him up from school besides mumbling apologies he’d barely spoken something which left you uneasy. 

“I have always told you to never put your hands on someone else! If a kid is mean to you or your friends you go get a teacher.” A sigh left your lips as you paused in front of him. This was completely new ground. He was a good kid, the best which is why you’d been in utter disbelief when you’d gotten the phone call telling you to come pick him up.

You’d immediately assumed he must have been sick but his teacher had quickly curved that by telling you that your son had taken it upon himself to hit another kid at break. You knew the kid he’d hit was a brat - it was common knowledge - but that didn’t make a difference on how your son had acted. 

His little feet kicked idly as he stared at his hands. “I know he was being mean to your friend okay? And he shouldn’t have taken that toy but you shouldn’t have hit him.” You knelt your hand rubbing over his knee. 

“You're mad.” He mumbled reusing to look up. “I’m disappointed.” You corrected him. 

His cheated heaved as he took a breath, and you already knew he wasn’t far off crying. The disappointment was far worse than anger in his mind. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his hands pulling at his polo.

“I know you are. But why?” You couldn’t get your head around why he had hit this kid! Ever since he was young you’d discouraged hitting and he’d never attempted it since starting school. You were sure you’d curved the habit but now you were unsure. 

“Why did you hit him?”

Noah sniffled his shoulders slumping as you watched him, waiting. He knew he wasn’t getting out of this one. “He kept being mean to Conner and he wouldn’t do anything! He pushed him over yesterday and the teacher didn’t believe us.” Your jaw tightened slightly as he relayed the story. “That doesn’t mean you hit him.”

He nodded. “I mentioned it last night at practice, and Conner got upset, so Patrick asked what happened, and he said that a bully won't stop unless you show him you're just as strong.” He looked up, his big eyes wet, as he rubbed a fist across his ruddy cheeks. 

You hummed pulling him in for a hug.

You were gonna kill Patrick.

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

“You told my son to hit a boy.” 

Patrick grimaced leaning against his car as your voice carried down the phone. “Hello to you too.” He mumbled. 

“Patrick.” You snapped. 

“I didn’t tell him to hit the kid!”

“You told him to get him back! He’s eight! He doesn’t understand that ‘get him back’ doesn’t mean literally do the same thing.”

“I didn’t think he’d listen to me! I was just tryna make the kid feel better.” You scoffed mumbling under your breath. Shifting his grip on the phone he took another drag of his cigarette. “I’m sorry alright! I didn’t think he’d take it literally.”

He couldn’t lie part of him got a small kick out of it. The teachers weren’t doing anything and at least your son had the guts to stand up to the kid. Maybe he’d gone about it the wrong way but still, he doubted that kid would be trying anything again soon. 

“Get your ass over here right now.” Your tone was still harsh as you watched the window. “I want you to tell him what he did was wrong.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “Hey, I’m his tennis coach, not some sorta ethics teacher.” He stamped out the cigarette a small smirk pulling at his lips as memories of that last time he’d ended up at your door flashed through his mind. 

Hell, that had been the first time he’d managed to render you speechless…more than once. He’d taken great amusement in the way you’d refused to look at him for the full week after, almost as if you were embarrassed that he’d worn you down that fast.

“I think you just want an excuse to get me back into your house.” He heard your groan and his grin only widened. “Mhm. One time wasn’t enough?”

“I’m going to skin you alive Zweig.”

“I love when you talk like that. It’s kinda hot knowing you think about me…even if it is about my demise.”

A scowl formed on your face as your hand tightened over your phone. Damn him. 

“You’ll be here in 30 minutes or i will make sure you can’t have any children.”

He chuckled, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He could almost picture the look on your face, the way your jaw clenched as your eyes would darken just a smidge.

“Anything you say, Sweetheart.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

It only took one ring for you to open the door, a tight smile pulling at your lips as you let him in. “Just in time.” You mumbled not missing the way his eyes seemed to take an elevator sweep of your body.

Patrick grinned, hands shoved into his jeans as you closed the door. “Look’s like my future children are safe huh?”

“For now.” 

You turned heading towards the kitchen before yelling over your shoulder. “Take your shoes off.”

Patrick rolled his eyes before kicking his shoes off and following you through the entryway. Noah looked up from his plate, his eyes widening before a bright grin broke out when he noticed Patrick behind you. He raised his hand in greeting which Patrick returned with a smile of his own. 

“You remember how i spoke to you about what you did?” Noah’s gaze moved to you, his smile dulling slightly as he nodded. “Yeah.” You gestured to Patrick as you leaned against the counter. 

Patrick frowned something in his chest pulling at the way the normally lively boy seemed subdued almost as he listened to you. “Patricks gonna talk to you about the conversation you had alright?” You pushed off the counter sending Patrick a look which said ‘Don’t fuck this up’ before you paused by the doorway.

“You're not in trouble.” You reminded gently. Noah nodded, his shoulders relaxing when he registered that Patrick wasn’t there to yell at him. You smiled before turning to leave. “Wait. wait, wait, wait. You're not gonna…stay” He gestured to your son. 

“This is your problem.” You hummed watching as the man gaped at you. “You can solve this by telling him what you actually meant.” Patrick seemed to snap out of his shock. He’d caused this mess and now you were letting him talk to your son about it again! You were letting him parent your damn child!

He was not qualified for this. 

You sighed stepping closer as Noah watched you both. “I already laid the groundwork you just have to reinforce it. He’s gonna listen to you since it's you who he listened to the first time.” 

Before he could respond you’d already wandered away. He watched for a moment as you disappeared up the stairs before he turned back to the boy. Taking a small breath he clapped his hands before pulling out the chair next to him. 

“Alright kid, ready to talk?”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

Half an hour later you were growing angsty. They were still talking. You hadn’t heard any screaming yet, neither had Patrick come looking for you which you assumed was a good thing.

Though you were quickly running out of chores. You’d cleaned your room and his room before doing both bathrooms. It couldn't help to just go and check…right?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you quietly returned downstairs. The soft echo of voices reached your ears as you paused by the kitchen door, peering through the crack. Your lips parted in slight shock as you watched your son nodding eagerly at whatever his coach was saying. 

He was practically half-lent across the table as he listened. The room fell quiet for a moment before your son's voice filled the silence. “Mommies still mad.” He said, his lips pulling into a frown. “Your Mom’s not upset bud.” Patrick sighed resting a hand on the table. 

“She’s probably just shocked more than anything. Shocked and maybe disappointed but she's not mad.” He reassured, his tone softer than you’d ever heard. Something in your chest pulled as you watched the two. The way your son shifted ever closer filled you with a slight warmth.

Your ex wasn’t the best father, too caught up in his own company even when he had Noah to make an effort. You knew he was missing a male role model and you’d spent many nights kicking yourself for the downfall of your relationship.

He really trusted Patrick. You swallowed your hand curling over the door knob as your son got off his chair. You watched with bated breath as he stopped by Patrick's legs, his small voice mumbling. “Hug?”

Patrick seemed to freeze for a moment, his eyes glancing around the room. He didn’t seem to notice you before he looked back down to Noah’s pleading gaze. “Sure buddy.” He smiled helping the boy climb into his lap.

Patrick fumbled for a moment before figuring out the best way to hold him, his large hands rubbing over his back. “You know you're really lucky right?” Noah hummed pulling back slightly. “How?”

Patrick smiled. “Your mom really loves you. The fact she was so worried over this means that she really cares okay? I promise you she’s not mad.” Noah nodded. “She's not mad,” he repeated, the message finally seeming to sink in as he buried his head back into Patrick's chest. 

His hand continued to rub soothing patterns as he let himself enjoy the affection. It made his heart warm almost the way the little boy seemed to finally properly relax. “You really hit the jackpot.” He teased feeling Noah shift. 

“I’m pretty sure you got the best mom in the whole world.”

Noah giggled pulling back again. “I did!” He grinned. 

You stepped back, your head hitting the wall as their voices drifted into the background. Taking a breath you tried to suppress the smile pulling at your lips as the scene replayed over and over in your head. 

Patrick thought you were a good Mom. The thought was insane. The fact that you liked it was even wilder.

Taking a breath you pushed off the wall. You’d let them be for now.

[kpopsexstories]

NCT Dream Dating Ban #7: Jaemin Pt. 1

NCT Jaemin can’t date girls. As his gay friend you help him out with his sexual needs. (Part 1 of 2)

Content Warning! This is a 100% gay story. Check out this post for my straight smut and this post for more gay smut.

Pairing: Top NCT Jaemin x Bottom male reader

Content: Jaemin takes you on a ride to his favorite nature spot.

Type of Sex: NO SEX (there will be in Part 2)

Word Count: 3.3k

Previous parts in the NCT Dream 'Dating Ban' series: Jisung Pt. 1, Jisung Pt. 2, Haechan, Mark, Renjun Pt. 1, Renjun Pt. 2, Jeno Pt. 1, Jeno Pt. 2, Chenle.

Jisung may be your best friend, but among the boys of NCT Dream Jaemin comes a close second. The first time you met you opened up to each other and the rest is history. You've always gotten along exceptionally well, and you have a lot in common.

Jaemin gets you, sometimes even more so than Jisung. You can talk for hours. You care for each other and have always been physical in the most platonic of ways. You'd go as far as calling him a close friend. It's a friendship you value highly.

So it's really a shame that you haven't really spent any time with Jaemin at all, now that your week-long trip is approaching its last day. You've been too busy pleasuring the other boys, completely enthralled by their desperate need for intimate release, and their total devotion to your body as their sex toy.

It's time to redeem yourself for your errors. You need to make up for your neglect. And what better way to do that than by giving Jaemin the personal attention you've already given everyone else?

Every time you come to visit Jisung there's something you and Jaemin simply must do together. You've always done it. You simply cannot end this trip without doing it with him again, to keep the tradition alive.

What you need to do is… to hop on a bike and go to Jaemin's favorite lake outside the city.

You have so much to talk about. You've had sex with six of the seven members, a shocking reality that is quite crazy now that you think back on it. And though Jaemin has politely kept his distance while you've let the other boys use you for their sexual pleasure, you know that he must have questions.

You're dying to tell him all about your exploits of the past week. And maybe you need some answers too. How did all this even happen? Jaemin will surely laugh with you, and be excited on your behalf.

But first, you need to go tell Jisung that you're about to head out.

“I'll go down to get the bikes,” Jaemin says and starts walking out the apartment door.

You nod at him. “I'll be right behind you.”

You've already put on your jacket when you walk through the corridor of the dorm, in the direction of Jisung's room near the living room. The very same room you've been staying in throughout your visit. The room in which Jeno fucked you good and Chenle experienced a most insane orgasm under your care.

Not to mention Jisung himself, whom you've been sleeping with every night since you arrived. You sure have created a lot of memories together in his bed.

The freshest one as recently as half an hour ago. When you open the door, Jisung is still laying naked and spent on top of the sheets. He's exactly where you left him when you went to find Jaemin and suggest you do the traditional bike trip before it's too late.

Jisung is on his stomach playing on his phone, his cute ass out and limbs spread wide on the damp sheets.

“God, let me open the window,” you say and frown. You've only now realized what a dank smell and poor air quality you've created.

Jisung turns his head in your general direction.

“We're heading out straight away,” you say and take a second to admire the view of Seoul. It's a beautiful day, perfect for the lake.

“Okay,” Jisung says and smiles. He rolls on his side and exposes his slack dick. ”Have fun.”

“Thanks,” you say and playfully slap his ass when you pass the bed. “I'll see you tonight.”

And with that, you leave one friend behind to go on an adventure in nature with another.

*****

The tricky part is to get out of the city. You're always amazed by the sheer size of it, and though the apartment complex in which your friends live isn't in the heart of it, it takes you a good forty-five minutes of biking to finally leave it behind.

“I forgot how exhausting this is,” you shout when Jaemin begins to race ahead of you.

“You say that every time,” he jokes and laughs.

But when you reach the start of a countryside road, and the houses around you become more scarce and replaced by fields and trees, you suddenly feel energized. The skyscraper scenery you've been living in for a week is soon replaced by a lush forest.

The air is nice out here, not at all like the sweat and recycled oxygen you've been breathing back home. And Jaemin appears to be in a really good mood. He doesn't seem at all upset that you've largely been ignoring him, and you finally remember why this tradition means so much to you both.

In reality, he’s just happy to finally have you to himself. He’d rather just forget about everything else you've been doing.

As you ride side by side, you talk about everything and nothing at all. The Dream teams’ most recent tour, and the recording of their next album which is nearly done. Your life back home, and how you wish you could visit more often. And the many old inside jokes you have, which make you laugh and forget all about how tired your body is feeling.

It's like this very moment is what the whole week has been building up to. Everything else that has happened suddenly doesn't matter. You feel good, really good.

Sadly, when he isn’t hiding from reality like this, Jaemin doesn't feel the same way at all, and his happiness is just temporary.

Despite having been to the lake on numerous occasions in the past you've forgotten the way. Jaemin has to lead you, and he rides ahead when you turn off the road and onto a path that takes you deeper into the forest. He's been oddly quiet for ten minutes.

You're headed for his secret spot. His hide-out away from the city. The long journey is certainly worth it, because you know that once you reach it you'll be surrounded by a calm and soothing atmosphere in a serene location. It's not entirely lost on you that Jaemin has made you one of the few who have ever been to this place.

An hour and a half after you set off, Jaemin gets off his bike and starts walking. You follow close behind. The path is too faint and bumpy to bike on.

“Remember the first time you took me here?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Jaemin says. ”It was the second time I met you. We stayed here for hours just talking. You had just broken up with your ex and told me about him.”

“I think that's when I realized you'd be a good friend. I was heartbroken and really needed a break. You were there for me.”

“Does it still remind you of him?”

“Hah!” you exclaim. “Not at all. He feels like a lifetime ago. Now it just reminds me of you guys. I guess next time it will remind me of all your dicks.”

The joke is the first time either of you bring up the sex you've been having. You're eager to know what Jaemin makes of it all, especially Renjun's hint that the boys aren't as straight as their image makes them out to be. It's a topic you're dying to discuss with your friend, to learn if the sex you've been having is really just a consequence of the infamous dating ban. But as close as you feel to your friend you're actually worried about what he might think.

“Yeah,” Jaemin says and smiles faintly. At least he doesn't appear to disapprove of the fact that you've slept with all his friends. “You've been quite busy.”

“Mm,” you grunt. ”Are you okay with that?”

“I wish I'd seen you more.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you.”

“How?” Jaemin asks, but that's as far as your conversation goes on the matter. For now.

The path has ended and the small lake in the middle of nowhere – which looks more like a large pond – presents itself to you.

“Wow,” you exclaim. It's mid afternoon and as hot as it will get, and the air is completely still. “The water is so calm.”

“Like a mirror,” Jaemin reflects.

You look at him and smile. “The usual spot?”

Jaemin doesn't answer. Instead he leans his bike against a tree, points to the left side of the shore, and starts whacking his way through the bushes.

*****

‘The usual spot’ is a clearing right next to the body of water, where rocks and soil and refuse from the tree tops has tamed the otherwise tall grass along the shore. Jaemin has brought a backpack from which he pulls out a large blanket.

He lays it on the ground while you talk and laugh, about memories and the future and more of your inside jokes. He seems to be back to his usual self again.

You've never considered yourself a nature person the way Jaemin is, but the scents and sounds of the forest – and the fact that you finally get to spend time alone with your friend – do have an impact on you. You've always appreciated this spot, almost as much as Jaemin does.

When you sit down on the blanket and lean on an arm behind you, Jaemin sits beside you and leans into your lap. You hold him around the chest and close your eyes, soaking up the warm rays seeping through the leaves of the tree tops.

“I brought wine,” Jaemin says. “And some snacks.”

“Then get them out.”

“Wanna go for a swim first?”

Your eyes suddenly widen. “Fuck!”

“What?” he asks.

”We left so quickly. I forgot to bring my swimwear.”

He looks up at you and chuckles. The smirk on his face is unmistakable. You're suddenly both thinking the same thing.

*****

Water is splashing around you and you laugh out loud when you rush out of the lake to return to dry land. You're in your underwear, as is Jaemin who is playfully chasing you.

“I can't believe you said that to him!” you exclaim when you bend down to grab Jaemin's towel. You hastily dry your body before you pass the towel to him.

“He had it coming,” Jaemin says and smirks.

“Where's the wine?” you ask.

Jaemin takes his bag and pulls out the bottle, while you sit back down on the blanket. The wet underwear instantly soaks it but it doesn't matter. The sun feels good on your skin after the cold swim.

Jaemin takes a sip and sits down beside you. He hands you the bottle while you glance across the lake in silence.

“So,” you say. “Are the guys really all straight?”

Jaemin puts his arms around his knees and looks at you with a serious expression. Water is dripping down his body. You suddenly get the feeling you shouldn't have asked the question so bluntly.

“You'd love it if they weren't, wouldn't you?” he asks.

You laugh out loud in an attempt to keep the mood light. “Yeah, I would. I mean, I guess it doesn't really matter, I get to taste their dicks anyway.”

“I can't believe you've been doing that,” Jaemin says. He finally smiles faintly though, as if he does approve and it's all just a fun game.

“I promise you I didn't plan to. They all came on to me first. That's why I'm wondering. They blame the dating ban, but Renjun said there's no shortage of women in your lives.”

“Renjun's gay,” Jaemin points out.

“Yeah, I know. But the others. I mean, Chenle I can believe is just desperate, and maybe Mark. And Jisung I already know about, we have fooled around in the past and he's definitely bi. But Haechan, Jeno… you?”

Jaemin doesn't respond. He lies down on his back and uses his bag as a pillow. He stares at the tree tops and leave you hanging, while you glance at his gorgeous chest and stomach.

“You know, I'm actually jealous of Jisung for that,” he eventually says but doesn't turn to look at you.

The remark takes you by surprise. “Jealous of what?” you ask.

He's finally brave enough to face you. “You said you'd make it up to me that we haven't spent much time together, right?”

You look at him with suspicion. “Yeeaah…” you say slowly.

“It's not just the dating ban. At least not for all of us.”

You can feel the seriousness in the tone of his voice.

“Then… what is it?”

Jaemin looks up at you, straight into your eyes, then quickly turns away. It’s like he’s afraid of something.

“I love you,” he almost whispers.

Now that is a surprise! you think. You stare wide-eyed and bewildered at him, but he still refuses to look at you.

“I… I love you too.”

“No, not like that,” Jaemin exclaims and rolls toward you. He's suddenly very close, and you feel as though he simultaneously wants to kiss you and kill you.

Your mind – after this whole week of him keeping a distance – is finally starting to catch on. Jaemin is actually serious. He's probably not happy about any of what has been going on this week. And you can't believe the thought has never even crossed your mind, after all these years you've known each other.

“Wait,” you say and scratch your head. ”So, you are gay?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes and slaps your bare thigh. “That is what you take from this?” he says and chuckles. It's a nervous chuckle, but you still don't fully pick up on what he's trying to tell you.

“Yeah. I mean… What?”

You suddenly twist your face and tilt your head. Are you actually hearing what you think you're hearing?

“Don't make me say it again.”

As the reality of the situation sinks in, you begin to relax and turn on your side, facing your friend on one elbow. There's suddenly a strong current running between you, and Jaemin most likely wants to roll over and die.

“I'm sorry,” you say and look at him with a sad expression. “I just… I didn't know.”

“It's okay,” Jaemin says. “I mean, it's not like I've been very straight forward.”

“No, you haven't. But, I guess I understand why. For how long?”

Jaemin can't stand it any longer. He pulls himself up on his elbows and stares across the lake again. “Since the first time I took you to this place, and you told me about your ex,” he says and looks around. ”Did you really think I kept taking you here for no reason?”

“I thought you took me here because we're friends.”

“We are friends,” Jaemin says. “But I… I dunno. You're an amazing guy. And yes, Renjun is right.”

There's a lot to process, and you don't know what to say. You genuinely do love Jaemin, but while you have always been able to appreciate his sexy body and enjoy his mind and personality, the thought of there being anything romantic between you has never been on the table.

For the first time ever you wonder if there could be. And you're suddenly overcome with the horrible feeling that you might have hurt him. The eagerness and excitement you once felt about talking with your friend about your week of sexual exploits is gone.

Jaemin, however, suddenly feels a need to explain himself, and backtrack a little on his words. “I mean, it’s not like I love you like that anymore. It’s been years. I’ve always had a crush on you, and I still do I guess, but I accepted that you don’t feel the same way a long time ago.”

You’re not quite sure what to respond. No, the feeling isn’t mutual, but at the same time your relationship is different from that of the other boys. It's deeper, always has been.

“You're amazing too,” you say. ”I do love you too. Just not… in that way. I’m sorry.”

Jaemin appears surprisingly calm and relaxed. Maybe he's just happy he finally got it off his chest.

Or maybe he's just desperate to change the subject, to move on from the agony he's going through in this very moment. Regardless, he decides that now is a good time to joke.

“The dating ban does affect us all though,” he says and chuckles.

His sudden change of attitude makes you feel at ease, to the point that you even laugh out loud, a sound that echoes across the water.

“What, are you desperately horny too, looking for a pocket pussy to fuck?” you joke back. Oh no, I shouldn't have said that.

But Jaemin has spotted an opportunity. He knows that he's dropped a bomb shell on you. He's realized that you aren't going to jump at him, tell him you've always loved him too, and make romantic love to him by the lake the way he's dreamed of. The dream in which you become an official couple – at this very place which he's picked especially for you – is not going to happen. Deep inside he always knew that, and if anything the week has proved it once and for all.

Perhaps he's still hoping, clinging on to the idea that you might actually have feelings for him too. Or maybe the dating ban is real and affecting him just as much as it's been affecting the others, making him as horny and starved as they've been.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that he wants you, and that you've just brought up the possibility of sex, even if it might just have been a joke.

“Yes,” he says and rolls into your lap. He suddenly rubs his nose in your chest, and pushes his hip against yours.

Once again you're surprised by his actions. This day certainly is taking a lot of emotional turns.

For the entire time at the lake the thought of sex with Jaemin hasn't even crossed your mind. You'd given up on the idea of a seven-for-seven streak. Now, you're suddenly instilled with a glimmer of hope, though you know that it's a terrible idea.

“We shouldn’t…” you say.

“Why not?” he asks, almost begging.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We’re well past that.”

You look down on his adorable head. Jaemin may be a good friend, someone closer to you than the others. And he might be in love with you, for real, in which case having sex would be a big mistake.

But things have worked out great with Jisung. And now, when he's proclaimed his love and is caressing your skin in the sun by the romantic spot he's always taken you to, how can you resist? You feel a tingle between your legs and a boner growing, and if he wants this just as bad as you do, how can you say no to his advancements?

You feel his wet lips when he kisses your skin. “You promised to make it up to me, remember?” he says while they jump slowly across your chest.

“No,” you whisper.

“Please. Forget what I said. The dating ban is killing me.”

“Are you sure?”

He stops kissing you and looks up, straight into your eyes. “Yes. Please, let me fuck you.”

You know it's a bad idea, but you also know what you want. Jaemin is the last missing piece and he's offering himself to you. Maybe this can lead to something good? You'll never know if you don't try.

Part 2 will be posted Thursday Nov 14, 2024,

[ms-snape]

hi!! could i request a young!severus snape (in the maraurders era) where he gets drunk and is literally the oppositte of his usual self? — flirty, confident, a lot more touchy, a total tease ..

(no smut just an awkward severus turning into a flirty douche that makes your face redder then a tomato!)

Title: A Night To Remember

Warnings: a bit of angst, drunk sevvy

Words Count: 4000+

Masterlist

---

It had been a slow evening in the Slytherin common room. The usual murmur of students studying, reading, or gossiping had quieted by the time the moon had risen high in the sky, its silvery glow casting shadows on the stone walls. You sat in your usual spot, a large armchair near the fireplace, watching the flames flicker as you absentmindedly ran your fingers over the edge of a book, the pages untouched.

There was always something about the way Severus Snape acted that left you feeling like you were standing on the edge of a precipice, a foot hovering over a cliff with no way of knowing if you'd fall or fly.

You were dating Severus, though no one really knew. It wasn’t that you were ashamed—more like he was simply… private. Extremely private. And distant. Emotionally unavailable, most of the time. He was the type of person who kept his thoughts locked away, like a vault you couldn’t get into. And that was fine, really. You were used to it.

But lately, the space between you had started to feel wider. The rare moments when he would look at you with something softer in his eyes had become almost nonexistent. The little touches, the accidental brushing of hands in hallways, were reduced to nothing. And though you hadn’t spoken of it, it had been gnawing at you.

You shifted in your chair, eyes flicking to the door, waiting for him to appear. He was late—again.

But this time, when he finally walked through the door, it wasn’t the usual quiet, self-assured Snape you were used to. No, this Snape had a gleam in his eyes, a different kind of fire in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. His usually sharp features were flushed, and his step was slightly unsteady.

"Severus?" you called softly, standing up from your chair. Your heart skipped at the sight of him, at how uncharacteristically… disheveled he looked.

He stopped a few paces from you, blinking slowly as if he were trying to focus. The scent of firewhisky wafted from his robes, and your suspicion deepened. Severus Snape wasn’t the type to drink much—at least not in public, anyway. His reserved nature kept him far away from the rowdy gatherings and parties that other students indulged in.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice rougher than usual, but there was a playful edge to it. His lips curled into something almost like a smirk, but it didn’t feel cruel. In fact, it was… charming?

You tilted your head, trying to suppress the confusion rising in you. "You’ve been drinking," you observed, crossing your arms.

His eyes narrowed in a manner that was almost comical. "Really?" he asked, feigning surprise. "You think so?"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing the room slowly. “What happened? I thought you hated drinking."

"I do," he muttered, swaying a little on his feet. “But sometimes even I need… a break from my usual self."

You could hardly contain your smile. The snark, the biting wit—usually so prominent in Severus—was dulled. What was more striking, however, was that he wasn’t pulling away from you. His usual cold distance seemed to have disappeared, replaced by something warmer, though it was still unmistakably Severus. You saw him take another unsteady step toward you, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound ringing in the otherwise quiet room.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused. But then, before you could answer, he wobbled and caught himself on the edge of the table next to him, his hand resting there for balance. You stepped forward, instinctively reaching out to steady him.

Snape’s eyes flickered to your touch, then back to your face. His lips quirked in a smile that was almost… mischievous. "You’re so serious all the time," he said, his voice slow and deliberate, as though savoring the words. "Why are you so serious, Y/N?"

You frowned slightly at the question, unsure of how to respond. "I… I don’t know," you said, trying to be honest but also not entirely sure of what he meant. "Maybe because you’re so distant all the time."

Severus tilted his head as if your answer intrigued him. Then, unexpectedly, his hand moved from the table and reached toward your face. You froze, your breath catching as his fingers lightly brushed against your cheek. The touch was so unlike him, so tender, that your heart fluttered in your chest.

“You think I’m distant, huh?” he murmured, his eyes suddenly locking onto yours. “Maybe I’ve just been waiting for the right moment. You don’t always make it easy, Y/N. But… I’m trying.”

Your mind raced. Was this really Severus Snape? This flirty, playful version of him was so different from the man you were used to. There was no biting sarcasm, no dark, brooding intensity. Instead, it was like all the walls he had put up had crumbled in one fell swoop, leaving only… him.

He leaned a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. “But you know, I’m not used to this,” he confessed, his voice a hushed whisper, barely audible. “I’m not good at… well, this.” His fingers, now curled against your shoulder, gently traced the outline of your jaw. “But I think I’m figuring it out.”

You were stunned into silence, blinking at him in disbelief. For the first time in a long while, Severus wasn’t just the aloof, impenetrable figure you’d come to know. No, he was something else—something that made your pulse race and your chest tighten with a mixture of excitement and confusion.

“I—Severus, are you… drunk?” you asked, your voice barely more than a breath.

He smirked, a crooked, almost boyish expression. “Me? Drunk?” He gave a soft laugh, but there was no malice in it—just warmth. “Of course not. I’m perfectly in control.”

You gave him a skeptical look.

“Alright, maybe a little,” he admitted, his voice dropping into something playful, low. “But I do what I want tonight.”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I should trust you when you’re like this.”

Severus’s smirk grew wider. His hand slipped from your shoulder to rest against the back of your neck, his thumb gently rubbing the sensitive skin there. You gasped, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“Are you afraid of me, Y/N?” he asked softly, his face dangerously close to yours. There was a teasing note in his voice, but his eyes were filled with something far deeper—something you had never seen before.

“I—I don’t know what to think right now,” you confessed, caught between laughter and something else entirely. "You're acting so… different."

His lips curled up at the corners, his fingers now pressing more insistently against your neck as he leaned in just a little closer. “Good. I like surprising you.”

You swallowed, a lump forming in your throat at how incredibly close he was now. His breath was warm on your skin, his presence overwhelming. You felt the intensity of his gaze, the weight of the silence hanging between you. Then, before you could react, he did something that made your heart stop.

He kissed you.

It wasn’t a soft peck or an innocent brush of lips. No. It was a deep, urgent kiss, full of all the feelings he’d kept hidden for so long. His lips moved against yours with surprising gentleness, as if he were testing the waters, unsure but eager.

You froze for a moment, not sure if this was really happening, if this was the same Severus you knew. But then, instinct took over, and you kissed him back. His hand slid from your neck to the small of your back, pulling you in closer, deepening the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his chest was heaving with breath, his face flushed from the intensity of the moment. His eyes, wide and almost innocent in their shock, flickered between yours as though he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“I—I didn’t expect that,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark, disheveled hair.

You could barely suppress a laugh, still dazed from the kiss. “You didn’t expect to kiss me?” you teased, still in shock at how different he was acting. "Then why did you?"

Severus's smirk returned, but there was a softness to it now, a vulnerability that you rarely saw from him. "Because," he said, voice quiet but confident, "I’ve been wanting to for a long time.”

Your heart skipped in your chest at his words, the weight of them hanging in the air like something both fragile and precious.

“And now I’m not going to stop.” His voice was teasing again, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that you hadn’t expected to see tonight.

You smiled, finally feeling the distance between you both begin to shrink. “You’re incredible when you're like this,” you whispered, your hand reaching for his. “But I think you’ve had enough firewhiskey"

Severus gave you a half-hearted glare, clearly unbothered. "You always ruin the fun, Y/N," he muttered, though his smile was still there.

You leaned into him, your foreheads touching. “I think you’ve had more than enough fun for one night, Severus.”

With that, you both sank into the softness of the armchair, his arm draped over your shoulders as he let out a deep sigh, content in a way you had never seen him before.

And for the first time in ages, you didn’t feel the weight of his distance. Instead, you felt his warmth, his heart—a side of him you didn’t know he was capable of showing. The walls had come down, and for the first time, you could see Severus Snape for who he truly was.

And somehow, that was enough.

--

The early morning light filtered through the high, narrow windows of the Slytherin common room, casting long shadows across the stone floors. You awoke to a feeling of warmth, but it wasn’t the warmth of the sunlight creeping in—it was the sensation of something solid beside you, the familiar weight of Severus Snape’s presence.

You blinked, still groggy, trying to piece together what had happened. The night before was a blur, but you remembered enough: the firewhisky, the laughter, the kiss.

You glanced over at Severus, who was still sleeping beside you on the armchair, his head resting against the back, his face turned toward you. His dark hair fell across his forehead in a messy, unruly fashion—he looked almost boyish in his sleep, completely unlike the Snape you usually saw. There was a sense of vulnerability in his stillness, a quiet peace that you had never witnessed before.

You sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him. The events of the night before began to replay in your mind. The way he’d been so different, so open, so… tender. You could still feel the echo of his kiss on your lips, the warmth of his touch on your skin. The walls he’d built for years had come crashing down, revealing a side of him that you hadn’t even known existed.

But now that he was sober, would things change?

You hesitated for a moment, your stomach tightening at the thought of what might happen once he woke up and remembered. The Severus you knew didn’t let his guard down. He didn’t show emotion—especially not affection. It had always been an unspoken rule between you two that what existed between you was… complicated. You were never sure if he actually cared for you, or if he just needed someone to fill the space he left in his own heart.

But last night… last night was different.

You reached out and gently touched his shoulder, hesitant to wake him but unable to resist. He stirred slightly, letting out a soft grunt as his eyes fluttered open. They blinked in confusion at first, and then the haze of the night before seemed to clear, leaving only the cold, calculating Severus Snape you were more familiar with.

He sat up slowly, his hand instinctively reaching for the back of his head, smoothing down his disheveled hair. You watched him, heart in your throat, as his eyes flicked to you. There was a brief moment of silence—awkward, tense.

“Morning,” you said, your voice a little more hesitant than you’d intended. “How are you feeling?”

Severus didn’t answer immediately. He rubbed his temples, groaning softly as if trying to shake off the remnants of the firewhisky. Then he turned to face you fully, his gaze sharp, guarded.

“What happened last night?” he asked, his voice low and unsteady.

The bluntness of his question took you by surprise. You had expected some form of awkwardness, but this—this felt like something entirely different, like he was trying to distance himself from whatever had happened.

You bit your lip, searching for the right words. “You were... drunk and we… kissed,” you said softly, not daring to meet his eyes.

Severus raised an eyebrow, a flash of disbelief flickering in his expression. “Kissed?” He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly still processing the information. “I… don’t remember that.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of unease in your chest. "Yeah, well, you were drunk."

He frowned. "I don’t drink. I… I’m not used to that."

The words came out with a surprising mix of defensiveness and vulnerability. Severus wasn’t one to admit his weaknesses—his pride always kept him on the edge of everything, refusing to let anyone see him falter. You could sense his discomfort, even if he tried to mask it with his usual cool demeanor.

You decided to press a little more, not wanting him to slip back into his wall of indifference. “It was… nice, though. You were different. You were, uh, affectionate.”

His gaze faltered for a moment, and you saw a flicker of something in his dark eyes—something akin to regret, perhaps, or fear. He turned away, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I wasn’t myself last night. You know how it is… alcohol makes people act out of character.”

There it was again. The familiar defensiveness. Severus was shutting down, retreating into the fortress he had built around himself. You felt a pang in your chest as you watched him struggle with the remnants of his drunken vulnerability. You had seen the cracks in his armor, but now that they were being filled with cold stone once again, you didn’t know how to reach him.

“You don’t have to act like it didn’t happen,” you said, your voice steady but soft. “I’m not going to hold it against you.”

Severus let out a sharp exhale, glancing back at you with a look that was almost… apologetic. It was a fleeting expression, gone before you could truly process it. “You shouldn’t take me seriously when I’m drunk. It was… a lapse in judgment.”

A lapse in judgment.

The words stung more than you expected. You had hoped for something—anything—to acknowledge the sincerity you had seen in him, even if only for a moment. But instead, you were faced with his refusal to acknowledge what had happened. The distance between you felt like it had stretched even further in the light of day.

“I don’t think it was a lapse in judgment,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration. “Maybe you just don’t know how to be honest with yourself.”

Severus’s eyes hardened, and you saw the familiar walls rising once again, stone by stone. He shifted in his seat, his arms crossing tightly over his chest. “I don’t need your lectures, Y/N.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the rush of emotions threatening to spill over. You had never been good at hiding your feelings, especially when it came to Severus. And right now, you were feeling a mixture of confusion, disappointment, and—if you were being honest—hurt.

“I’m not lecturing you,” you said quietly, standing up from your seat. “I just thought that maybe… just maybe… you didn’t want to push me away anymore.”

Severus didn’t respond right away. He didn’t have to. His silence spoke volumes.

You turned away, heading toward the exit of the common room. The heavy feeling in your chest only grew stronger with every step. You didn’t know what you were expecting from Severus, but you certainly hadn’t anticipated this cold rejection. You thought he’d at least acknowledge what had happened between you—the connection you’d shared, however brief.

As your hand rested on the doorknob, you paused, glancing over your shoulder. Severus hadn’t moved, but his gaze was fixed on you. He was watching you with a strange mixture of longing and frustration, as though he didn’t quite know how to deal with the situation, how to deal with you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter than before, and there was something more in it—regret, maybe? “I didn’t mean…”

But before he could finish, you opened the door, stepping into the dimly lit corridor outside. You didn’t want to hear it. Not yet.

You needed space. You needed time to sort out the mess of feelings swirling inside you.

The heavy door clicked shut behind you with a soft finality, and you leaned against the stone wall for a moment, pressing your hand to your forehead. You felt the sting of tears in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

Severus Snape had always been difficult. Distant. But last night, for a brief moment, you had seen him—truly seen him. And now, in the light of day, it felt like it was slipping through your fingers.

Maybe you were just fooling yourself.

--

It had been days since the uncomfortable confrontation in the dungeon hall, and with every passing moment, you found yourself more certain of two things: Severus Snape was as impossible to understand as ever, and you were a fool to think you could make him change.

But that didn’t stop the ache in your chest, nor did it stop the steady pull of curiosity that kept drawing your eyes toward him whenever he passed in the halls. Severus was not a man you could predict. He wasn’t even a man you could know—at least, not in the way you wanted to.

The walls he’d built around himself were high and thick, and no matter how many cracks you thought you saw in them, they always closed up again. The kiss from that night seemed more like a fleeting dream than a reality—if you dared think about it at all.

And yet, here you were, standing outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room, feeling every ounce of uncertainty bubble up in your stomach. You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t seek him out again. That you’d let things settle and maybe, just maybe, find some semblance of peace. But the silence between you two had stretched long enough that it was starting to hurt.

You wanted closure—something to understand about him, something to break the wall of cold indifference he’d thrown up after that night.

A few quick steps brought you to the heavy iron door, and you hesitated for just a moment before entering. The familiar scent of damp stone and earth filled your nose as you made your way toward the shadowed corner of the common room where you knew he’d likely be, hunched over some book, as he often was.

The common room was nearly empty. A few first years sat in a cluster near the fireplace, whispering and giggling, but there was no sign of Severus. Maybe he wasn’t there after all. Your heart sank. Maybe you were too late.

But as you turned to leave, a voice from the shadows stopped you.

"Looking for someone?"

You froze, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. His voice—the same smooth, dark tone that always sent a shiver down your spine—was laced with that familiar coolness, but you could swear there was something else in it too. A weariness? A trace of something unspoken?

You didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, you stood there for a moment, gathering your thoughts. "I was," you said softly, turning slowly. "I thought… maybe we should talk."

Severus didn’t answer right away. He was seated in a darkened alcove at the far end of the room, his legs stretched out in front of him, his fingers wrapped around a heavy textbook. The faintest light from the fireplace caught the edge of his profile, casting sharp shadows across his face. For a brief moment, you saw the boy he’d once been, hidden behind the cold facade of the man he’d become.

His eyes flicked to you, and then back to the book in his lap. “We have nothing to talk about,” he said, though there was a hesitance in his tone that made you pause.

You folded your arms across your chest, steeling yourself. "I don’t believe that."

He raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not used to your persistence. “And what, pray tell, do you believe?” he asked, his voice slightly mocking, but not entirely unamused.

You stepped closer, your voice steady, though there was an underlying edge to it. "I believe you’re hiding something. Hiding yourself."

Severus's gaze narrowed at the words, and for a moment, you thought he might say something sharp—something cutting, something that would send you away. But instead, he sighed heavily, almost imperceptibly, as though the weight of your words was starting to settle on him. He closed the book in his lap with an audible thud and stood slowly, eyes fixed on you.

“I’ve already said everything there is to say, Y/N. I’m not someone you can fix—I don’t want to be someone you think you can ‘fix.’”

You swallowed hard. He was back to his defensive, distant self again. "I’m not trying to fix you," you said quietly. "I just… I don’t understand. You were different that night. You let me in—but now, it’s like none of it happened."

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Of course you’d think that. You think it was something more than what it was. I don’t need your pity, Y/N. I don’t need—" He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. "I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was a lapse of judgment."

You felt the sting of his words like a slap to your face, and something deep inside of you recoiled. “Stop saying that,” you said, your voice more insistent. “It wasn’t a lapse of judgment. I know it wasn’t.”

Severus’s eyes flashed dangerously. "And how would you know?" His voice dropped, becoming dangerously low. "You don’t know anything about me. You never have."

The anger in his words cut through you like a knife. But beneath the anger, you could hear something else. Fear. It was there, buried deep in the layers of his voice—fear of being known, of being seen for what he truly was.

“Maybe I don’t know everything,” you said, your voice softer now, more careful, "but I know you, Severus. I know what I saw. And I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen."

He took a step toward you, closing the space between you both. His eyes bore into yours, a flicker of something darker in them, but also something more tender, almost imperceptible, just beneath the surface. "You should forget it," he said, his words quiet but forceful. "It doesn’t matter. I’m not the type of person you think I am. I don’t want your pity or your sympathy. I don’t—"

You didn’t let him finish. Without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand on his arm. His body tensed, and he drew in a sharp breath, but you didn’t pull away.

"I don’t pity you, Severus," you said firmly, your hand remaining where it was. "I never have."

His gaze flickered down to your hand on his arm, and for a brief second, you thought he might push you away. But he didn’t. Instead, he took another breath and let it out slowly, his expression unreadable.

"You don’t understand," he muttered. "I’ve been alone for so long. And I’ve learned not to need anyone."

"I’m not asking you to need me," you whispered. "I’m asking you to stop pushing me away. I’m here… if you’d let me be."

For a long moment, there was no answer. Severus stood still, almost like a statue, his eyes fixed on the place where your hand still rested on his arm. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a long, almost imperceptible sigh.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said softly, his voice raw in a way you hadn’t expected. "I don’t know how to let someone in… and I don’t know if I ever will."

And in that moment, you realized something. This wasn’t about him rejecting you, or pushing you away. It wasn’t about him being cruel or distant. It was about him being scared. Scared of getting close to anyone. Scared of letting someone see the cracks in the armor he’d built so carefully around himself.

You withdrew your hand slowly, but you didn’t turn away. You stood there, just… present, watching him.

“I don’t expect you to change, Severus,” you said quietly. “I just… I just don’t want you to be alone.”

There was a long silence. Finally, Severus looked at you, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable.

"Maybe one day," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe."

And with that, he turned away, retreating into the shadows of the common room, leaving you standing there with the echo of his words lingering in the space between you.

[starlightsuffered]

Needy Boy Tries No Nut November (the end)

Info - challenge, nnn, needy Timothée, thigh riding, thigh job, thigh fuck

“It didn’t count,” he said with his arms crossed.

“What!” I asked in utter disbelief.

“It didn’t count, I didn’t mean to cum, it was a ruined orgasm, like having a wet dream, I couldn’t help it,” he said.

“Timothée Hal Chalamet, you weren’t sleeping, you were actively fucking me. You kept giving yourself little short cuts, just one thrust, then just three, then just trying to feel good.”

“Exactly, just those things, not cumming,” he said with his infuriating logic.

���Okay, say the first one isn’t legit, what about the next three rounds?”

“Ummmmmm, it was all one session technically so it’s under one umbrella,” he tried.

“Timothée,” I stamped.

“What?” He whined.

“I didn’t agree to a month without sex, I get needy too,” I said with my arms crossed.

“I can help you out, I can eat you out, help you with sex toys, you can ride my thigh,” he suggested.

“Arrrggg,” I screamed. “THOSE THINGS MAKE YOU CUM!”

“Well I just won’t this time,” he shrugged.

“Yeah because that worked soooooo well last time,” I said sarcastically. I stamped away.

“Mon amour,” he whined in my ear, circling his arms around me.

“Most people who try No nut November are trying to stop masturbating, not stop making love with their girlfriend,” I said, mad that I felt weepy.

“Baby, sweetie, lovely girl, I just want to try to push myself, you know I like to try new things,” he said, kissing up my neck.

“I’m just worried,” I whispered.

“About what?”

“If you are so adamant to spend a month without sex, then maybe you can do other things like……break up with me,” I mumbled the last bit. He turned me around and grabbed the front of my shirt. He kissed me fiercely.

“Never, never ever,” he gasped into my mouth. “You’re the love of my life.”

“Timmy, I love you so much,” I said, my hands running up his body and into his hair. I massaged his scalp as he kissed me. He moaned into my mouth.

“Let me take care of you, ride my thigh, I’ve got on the jeans you love,” he said temptingly.

“Oh okay, but you can’t cum Timmy, if this is something you really want, I’ll help you, but it’ll be nice to be taken care of, I’ve been horny since we woke up,” I said, hands going under his shirt.

“Saying things like that does NOT help,” he growled. Timothée led me over to the couch, he sat down. I pulled off my pants so I was only in my thong.

“Is that,” Timothée gulped. “Is that a new th-thong?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I wanted to see if it fit,” I said sheepishly.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, it doesn’t bother me,” he said shakily. I began to move, rubbing myself on his thigh.

“Ohhhh, Timmy, fuck, feels so dirty to do this. We’ve never done this before,” I shuddered. It was a bit sexy, him getting creative for me because he wasn’t allowed to cum.

I ran my hands up my body, lost in the feeling of his thigh. My clit being so intensely massaged made me insanely wet. I shut my eyes as I reimagined our best sessions. I grabbed my breasts and massaged them. I felt Timothée jiggle his leg. I didn’t know if he was needy or trying to help me or both.

“I’m gonna come, gonna come on your fucking jeans baby, you’re so sexy,” I cried out. I exploded with bliss. I screamed his name throughout our house. Finally, I opened my eyes.

Timothée looked at me with the darkest look of lust. He was ravenous. He was still for a second and then he dumped me on the couch, leaving me. I was so confused, until he was back, still dangerous looking. He ripped down his pants and poured lube on his cock.

“Stand up,” he said. I did as he said, though he wasn’t usually so demanding. He grabbed my hips roughly. He stuck his slick cock between my thighs. He was rutting like wild.

“Timmy, No nut November,” I reminded him.

“I’m not going to to!” He nearly screamed but he didn’t seem mad at me.

“It isn’t your cunt, so I’m fine,” he lied to himself.

“Baby, common,” I said trying weakly to push him away.

“I want it,” he whined.

“Sweetheart,” I said desperately.

“M’not gonna, not gonna I swear, just need a little pleasure, you’re so sexy,” he whimpered. However, I could tell he was needy from his other actions. He nuzzled his face into my neck. Then he was licking my face and neck all over.

“Shouldn’t you stop baby?”

“I’m okay,” he lied as he sucked on my collar bones. He pulled on my hair, and even his nails raked down my back, but my shirt was saving me from pain.

“I can’t, I don’t want to,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut, nearly praying he wouldn’t cum.

“Timmy, stop, if you don’t want to cum-“ I was stopped by him ripping my thong apart and shoving his cock inside me.

“Timothée,” I gulped.

“Oh I love your cuuuuunt. I swear I’ll die with my cock inside you because you’re so sexy. Baby, never leave me, I couldn’t live without you. My cock will shrivel up and die without your sweet, tender, beautiful pussy to take it over and over,” he wailed.

“You take my breath away!” I cried.

“Get ready, you’re gonna come so hard,” he tried to flip the script and I giggled. That ended up being what made him cum. He screamed as he came intensely. I also fell over the edge again. We panted together, gasping for air as we took in what happened.

“See, your cock needs me,” I purred.

“I, I just wanna be good,” he whined.

“You are good, who cares what your friends think about No nut November, I adore you, and I want you all the time like we usually do,” I said caressing his face.

“You mean it?” He asked.

“Of course, you’re more vocal about it, but my body is just as needy as you. I desperately want you all the time Angel.”

“We’re perfect together,” he sighed.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming @lovelyrocker

[overnightheartbeats]

Her smile couldn't be contained watching as he stood centimeters from her. Hiding how she felt and what she anticipated was not possible in any way or form. Laurel's eyes fluttered shut upon feeling those soft, lovely lips she had been hooked on from the start. "High praise, and you say I'm the one with the flirting skills," she teased, her hands cupping his face before pulling him in for a kiss of her own. The last two have been initiated by him, it was high time she give one to him. It's all she'd been thinking about for the last two weeks. "Hey, that night was great. No apology needed. I understand family, I just got it all mixed up. That's so sweet, being so close to your little sister." She zipped up her lips, "You're a great brother, and don't worry, I'll keep your secret." He had mentioned that last time, with that same sad tone. Chicago really was home, it seemed. "Well, for what it's worth, Austin is not that bad. It grows on you for sure, but don't say goodbye to Chicago. You never know where life could take you." Laurel was giddy at the thought of him meeting Julia and Aaron. Julia will be thrilled, especially when she was already such a big fan. "Wait, that's great! I love it, I'll let them know meeting you has made it to the itinerary."

It hadn't occurred to her that her answers had a deeper meaning somewhere in there, but she had said she was an open book. "I'll hold you to that," she said with a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. His question had thrown her off for a second. "Yeah. My mom, when she was still around. She was always going on and on about being a bit much, which is fine. It makes sense, I suppose. It helped me learned to tone it down." Though, she supposed toning it down was debatable. "Really? You'd learn with me. That would be so much fun, and we'd get a new skill out of it. Hopefully, some good food too." The thought was intriguing - her mind already trying to think of how could they make this work. Maybe borrowing her dad's kitchen, because the communal kitchen in the dorm buildings wouldn't cut it. "True, but it's all you at the end of the day. Pretty green eyes," and just like that - new nickname unlocked.

Laurel happily listened to him talk about his family. Usually, the family talk bummed her out, only reminding her of the odd mess she had. But, hearing him was a breath of fresh air. His family just sounded so sweet, full of love. Hearing that kind of love envelop him comforted her, especially when she thought back to the melancholy in his tone now. "Fooled me, or drew me in?" Wasn't it all about perspective? "Both of them like dancing, sounds like I need to thank them for their hard work teaching you. So, you're a snow over heat kind of guy?" Yet, he ended up here. How amusing. "That sounds so relaxing, cabin for holidays. You'll have to let me know how it goes. To Aspen? Unfortunately, no because you make it sound so fun. When we did vacations, my mom was always picking the places, and it was New York or Paris. I was also a kid, so it was a lot of following her around during shopping trips and then spending time with some random caretaker while they went out. Once it became my dad and I, then we tried visiting the Grand Canyon and sprained his ankle, so vacation cut short. But, his job keeps him busy too, so vacations are not too fun." He did try though, and that effort was everything to her. "Oh, true. Nerdy can be hot though, still doesn't matter if it's others' favorite hobby. Just yours. A self-help book, to teach others to flirt with you? No, thank you. I'll politely decline," she joked with a wink in his direction.

Something in common made her feel excited, eager to discover what else they could have in common. The possibilities seemed endless, which only made it better. "Random hobbies, huh? I mean, I'll try anything once really," that was said with a shrug. Her curiosity had a tendency to lead her to the most odd roads. "Are you trying to test my knowledge? Maybe so, or maybe I don't, but I could just throw random moves together and you wouldn't even know the difference. I'd have to dig the pom poms out of retirement," she laughed at the thought, though her attention was drawn back to his words. Laurel had never thought of silence that way, but there was no way to say that without it sounding pitiful. "The first one sounds familiar, but I guess I haven't had much of that second option. It could also be because I can never be quiet." Deflecting with jokes, a fine option. "You are just checking off all my boxes - cooking classes and stargazing, I am too lucky. I will be taking you up on that offer! I don't need the facts, just the company." His company, more specifically. "Yes, sounds like a plan. I still need to see these awesome blankets you hyped up earlier." They'd covered a decent amount of things already in the getting to know you trail, but she was quick to think of other things. "Okay, favorite color and what's one place, anywhere in the world, that you've always wanted to visit?"

Eli smiled and sighed as he chewed his lip before getting up off the chair to be centimeters away from her face. That almost mischievous childlike smile displayed as he brought her chin up with his fingertip and pressed a fleeting but warm kiss on her soft plump lips. "I don't think kissing you would ever disappoint me." He situated himself back on his chair and wrapped his ankles around the legs of the seat. "The saddle night was a good day. I'm sorry it got cut short. My little sister needed me and if you ever meet her, you'd see why. She and I are really close. She's my best friend. Just don't tell my brother and sister," he chuckled making his eyebrows crease. "Our little secret." The thought had crossed his mind once but ended up deciding that it was best if he didn't. "I wanted to but I think I'm going to stay or find some place to settle that would still be a flight away from them. I think I exhausted my time in Chicago." A sort of melancholy took over his voice saying that out loud. Her excitement was contagious and it made him nod. "I'd love to meet your best friends. That's a genuine feeling because I don't normally like to meet people." The bribery bit had him smile at her. He did wonder what she'd have up her sleeve.

"Don't worry about that. I don't deem you too much. Has anyone ever deemed you to be too much?" His curiosity had gotten him to ask the question. Otherwise he didn't think she'd have hesitancy over being known. "Realism isn't a bad thing. Though it's good to have a balance." he hummed and nodded. "We can learn together. I know a few things but the kitchen isn't really my forte. Eating is though. I wouldn't mind learning together and coming up with different recipes to try." It was a nice thought. Laurel and him in the kitchen making something and having fun. Not paying too much attention to the exact recipe just winging it at times. He smiled as they fluttered one quick time and shook his head. "I'll proudly take the title then. I don't know who to thank. Mom or dad could have had green eyes. Who knows."

"I fooled you with my subpar dancing skills. Mama P used to love to be twirled so every chance we got we used to twirl her. So she'd take us around the kitchen to dance. It was Papa P who used to teach us how to lead." The last time he skiied was last Christmas. The last holiday that was normal. "Not since last year. It was a family trip. I've got a picture of that time in my dorm. I love the snow. It's a magical place and would love to go back. Maybe rent a cabin and spend the holidays there." A dream he knew that couldn't be made reality since he didn't have the funds to actually do it. At least not yet. "Have you ever been?" He shrugged his shoulders and cleared his throat. "Some people deem readers dorky and nerdy. So, it is not everyone's favorite hobby." She was cute when she laughed and her eyes sparkled with that joy. "It has worked. You have charmed me. Maybe now you should write a self help book on how to flirt the right amount."

"A one person type huh? Seems like we've got that in common." The smile he threw her was one that was half amused. "Cheerleading and tennis? Consider me more than intrigued. Do you still remember your cheer routine?" He'd wait until later to let her know he was one of the few cheer guys at the bottom of the pyramid. She didn't need to know that right now. "Silence isn't all bad. It depends on the person you're with. If they're using silence as a means for punishment then yeah that is not good. But if you're sitting in silence with someone who makes it safe and warm then you'd find it's also very fun. As for stargazing we should go sometime? I can't say I'll be full of facts but maybe I'll end up surprising you." Just then their food arrived and he grabbed it. "Shall we head back to the room?"

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: This was requested by anon, yet i lost the og request. Here you go, darling. On another note, I feel I wrote Trey way too many times here lololol

Warnings: yandere content, power imbalance, threats, broken darling, gn!reader

Affection: Trey’s affection is subtle yet intense. He loves through small acts — cooking your favorite dishes, anticipating your needs before you voice them. His devotion borders on obsession, and he’ll be constantly near, gentle in tone but with a possessive undertone. In private, his affection grows insistent, almost overwhelming, as he ensures you’re constantly reminded of how “perfect” things are when you’re together. All you need is him.

Blood: Trey isn’t one to get messy — at least, not in an obvious way. If anyone becomes an obstacle, he’s skilled at handling things quietly, ensuring that any threats to his happiness with you “disappear” without leaving a trace. But if push comes to shove, he’s not above a more hands-on approach. After all, he’s just protecting what’s his in his perspective.

Cruelty: His cruelty is masked by kindness. While he wouldn’t openly mock you, he might gently tease, subtly reminding you of your “place” if you show defiance. He’d treat you well, showing restraint, but his words would carry subtle, cutting reminders that resistance is futile. And what can you do against him? Trey is well loved by the other students and they are more prone to believe him than they are with you.

Darling: His control is delicate but firm. He wouldn’t need to use overt force, but his expectations are clear. If you’re reluctant about something, he’ll patiently convince you / compromise with you so things can go his way, sweetly and persistently guiding you into compliance without direct coercion. Yet, he is not afraid of punishing you for misbehaving.

Exposed: Trey hides his darker tendencies well, even from you, only hinting at his possessive side when he feels your loyalty waver. He shows his heart in gentle ways — vulnerable moments late at night, sharing memories and telling bad jokes, comforting you, spoon feeding you sweets he just made. But he guards his obsessive side carefully, wanting to keep a polished image.

Fight: If you fight back, he’ll take it in stride, simply smiling and offering calm reminders that he only wants the best for you - he always wants the best for you, you know? Beneath the calm exterior, though, he’ll become a bit more strict, carefully watching for further resistance and ensuring it never becomes an issue. He tries again and again to find common ground with you because he loves you and values your opinions a lot, yet when you are being unreasonable, he can't help but make things his way.

Game: To Trey, this isn’t a game — it’s his life. He wants you fully in it, with no room for escape. Watching you try to leave is heartbreaking to him, though he’ll hide that pain behind a patient, almost disappointed expression, as if waiting for you to realize there’s nowhere else for you but with him.

Hell: The worst experience with Trey would be his quiet, eerie punishments. If you defy him, he’ll start limiting your freedom piece by piece, removing privileges like outside time or contact with others until you feel as trapped as he needs you to be. You want to act like he is just some kidnapper, so he shall treat you like a prisoner - things don't have to be this way, but you love to play the victim.

Ideals: Trey envisions a “perfect” domestic future where you both live happily ever after, maybe even settling down in a small, peaceful place. He wants a life with you where you’ll grow to “appreciate” him, living under his devoted, watchful care, like the cute lover he knows he can shape you to be.

Jealousy: He keeps his jealousy in check, hiding it behind a calm smile. He's not really that jealous, you can have your friends, your interests, but when you start putting this things before him, that's when he gets annoyed and jealous of everything that is stealing you from him. Anyone who gets too close will feel his silent wrath. Though, instead of lashing out publicly on others as Riddle would do, he’ll take more covert actions to make sure no one stands between you and him.

Kisses: Around you, Trey is tender and calm. He likes subtle, lingering touches, a hand on your back, brushing hair from your face, soft kisses on your forehead. There’s warmth in each gesture, but if you look closely, you’ll see the underlying possessiveness in his eyes.

Love letters: Trey’s courting is subtle, coming in the form of thoughtful gestures, acts of service, and quiet, charming words. He’d woo you over time, acting as the ideal friend and confidant, making you feel comfortable enough to trust him before his intentions grow clearer.

Mask: Trey’s friendly, laid-back demeanor hides his possessive nature well. Most people wouldn’t suspect anything; he’s excellent at keeping his darker urges under wraps. However, if you look closely, you might notice glimpses of his true, obsessive self when he thinks no one’s watching.

Naughty: If he needs to punish you, Trey prefers psychological methods. A quiet withdrawal, locking you in a room for a few hours, or restricting privileges—his punishments are subtle but effective, designed to make you feel remorseful and compliant without scaring you too openly.

Oppression: Trey would gradually limit your freedoms, convincing you it’s for your own good. At first, it might just be limiting certain people you interact with; later, it may extend to when and where you’re allowed to go. His rules tighten until there’s hardly any choice left but to depend on him.

Patience: Trey is endlessly patient, willing to wait as long as it takes for you to accept him. He views any resistance as temporary, believing that with enough time and care, he’ll win you over.

Quit: If you escaped, Trey would search tirelessly. You mean too much to him to let go, and he’d follow every lead until he found you, ready to start over as if nothing had happened. If he couldn’t find you, he would never fully move on, haunted by the loss and always watching for any sign of you.

Stigma: I see him having more of a possessive side that stemmed from a need to protect, perhaps from early experiences of people he cared about leaving - his siblings, in extention, Riddle. Now, he craves control over the one person he believes he can’t afford to lose, over his beloved darling.

Regret: He rarely feels regret. In his mind, his actions are justified by his love. If you suffered, it’s only because you didn’t understand that he’s doing this for both of you. Letting you go would feel like a betrayal to his heart.

Tears: Seeing you in distress is painful, but he’d take it as part of the process. He’d comfort you afterward, softening his tone, reminding you that he’s doing everything for your own good and that things will be easier once you accept him.

Unique: His approach is subtle and controlled. Rather than outward aggression, he uses manipulation and charm, making you feel secure while quietly drawing the walls in tighter around you until you have no choice but to rely on him. He is so much like a spider weaving its web.

Vice: His greatest weakness is his need for your acceptance, for your love. If you managed to feign affection, slowly gaining his trust, you might have a chance to manipulate him or even escape under his watchful eye.

Xoanon: Trey places you on a pedestal, thinking of you as his perfect match. His devotion runs deep, but it’s twisted by his possessiveness. He would go to great lengths to win you over, molding himself into whatever role you needed, all to ensure you remain by his side. He can be rough, he can be gentle, he can be anything you need.

Wit’s End: While Trey rarely lashes out, he would become harsher if truly provoked. Physical harm would be a last resort, and only if he felt it necessary to “teach” you a lesson. His punishments would be calm and methodical, just enough to remind you of his control. Yet they give you nightmares for many nights to come.

Yearn: He would watch you from afar, admiring your quirks and mannerisms, feeling everything you made him feel. It’s a slow burn, but once he realizes his feelings won’t fade, he begins crafting his plan, how he can guide you to come to him willingly, how he can make you depend on him.

Zenith: Breaking you isn't on his plans for you; he’d prefer for you to come around to him naturally. But if it took breaking you down to ensure your obedience, he would do it, promising himself that, in time, you’d come to “understand” his love. And if you broke beyond repair, then he can take care of you.

[artslovergirl]

art & patrick at mark rebellato academy

[headcanons]

notes: i really enjoyed writing this because i just genuinely adore these characters and this movie so much. there's so many interesting little details and nuances there that i could just talk about forever and ever. i truly hope i did them justice here lol (also writing this made me jealous of people that are good at writing character analysis' and thinkpieces bc wow it is hard!) but yeah enjoy!

wordcount: 3.4k

they met at age 12 during their first day at the mark rebellato academy in their now shared room. 

when art came in with a duffel bag (that looked comically big next to his scrawny kid body) patrick was already sitting on the bed he had claimed(the right side next to the door) all by himself, his parents didn't have a very tearful nor long goodbye as they sent their son off to boarding school.

in contrast art’s mom and grandma seemed keen to embarrass him in front of his new roommate with their cooing and hugging him goodbye. 

it wasn't even like his mom and him were really all that close though. she just seemed to want to squeeze in all the moments of a loving mother-son relationship into the small segments of time she actually spent with him.

the goodbye hug and small ruffle of his hair from his grandma felt a little more genuine. embarrassing all the same as he could feel the other dark haired boy try not to crack up at the display.

"mom. please." he pleaded with her as she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "i’m sorry, artie, but i need to make up for all the time i'm gonna miss with you!" yeah, he bets.

a few minutes later and a tear or two from his mother they did finally leave him be. as soon as he heard the door shut though, the awkward silence enveloping the room almost made him miss them. 

he threw his duffel bag on the left bed and sat down on the edge. he fidgeted with his bottom lip, a nervous habit he's had for as long as he could remember. 

the brunette boy shifted on the bed so he was now facing him. his mouth pulled into a toothy grin "so you're...artie?" 

art groaned and hid his head in his hands, slumped over his knees. "no, that's..just my moms nickname for me. sorry you had to see that." he says in a squeaky broken voice which didn't help the embarrassment he was already feeling.

the other boy just brushed right past all that and said "i’m patrick." and then as an afterthought, "zweig."

"uh." art leaned back up, still avoiding his gaze. it was weirdly intense. "yeah, i’m..art. um, donaldson." he said the last part like it was a question almost.

patrick began to swing his legs a little. it was clear to him that art was the quiet type even if they had just exchanged a few words so far, but luckily patrick didn't mind talking. it was something his father always hated about him. he almost talked enough for both of them which after a little while finally seemed to break the ice of art's shy exterior. 

art didnt know what he thought about patrick yet. he was pretty..confident that was for sure. even a little arrogant, maybe. art scolded himself internally for being so judgemental. it was quality he hated about himself, but seemingly couldn’t get rid of.

despite all of that he had to admit that patrick was easy to talk to. there was never an uncomfortable gap in conversation with him. which art liked since those kinds of things made him want to crawl out of his skin sometimes.

that first night he spent staying up with patrick, slowly realizing how much they had in common while simultaneously being complete opposites, is one of his fondest memories and probably always will be. he never experienced another connection that felt anything even close to that.

their room wasn't too small but with the way patrick would just constantly toss his clothes wherever he pleased it seemed a lot smaller. 

it's not like art was insanely neat or anything, he was still a teenage boy. patrick was just exceptionally messy.

"patrick, this shit is so gross, i told you to use the hamper." 

patrick groaned, "youre such a neatfreak, fuck off." 

at that response a pair of dirty boxers were thrown at his head, courtesy of art. "i don't want to see or smell your worn underwear. that doesn't make me a neatfreak." 

patrick just tossed it back in art’s direction, to which the blonde quickly scurried out of the way to dodge it like his life depended on it. 

"you know if tennis doesn't work out for you, you'll make a good housewife." patrick grinned mockingly.

“ha-ha.” art just rolled his eyes, stuck up his middle finger and let the door slam behind him with his racket bag slung over his shoulder. 

trying to get patrick to do anything was like trying to teach a cat to do a trick without any treats. borderline impossible. so by age 15 art finally gave up.

...until he realized a year later that patrick would clean his side of the room whenever they had a girl over so..

yeah, sometimes he did lie and tell patrick that a girl was coming over just so he would clean his side of the room. 

you can judge him all you want but you never had to room with patrick zweig

 and after the third time that trick stopped working anyway. art was never a good liar. or maybe patrick could just call his bullshit way too easily.

they didn't fight too often, it was more like they constantly got into little tiffs

except for that time where it got so out of hand that they duct-taped a line dividing their rooms into two sides. (i know this is giving sitcom i'm sorry but tell me i'm wrong)

eventually they kind of forgot what they even fought about in the first place but they were too lazy to take the tape off of the carpet, so it just stayed on there for like 2 years till it peeled off.

like i mentioned in my other post these two were BITCHES

they would def talk shit all the time. they were not even trying to be secret about it tbh. (see: them staring at anna crying at tashi's party)

they sat in the bleachers watching one of their classmates play a practice match

“dude, look at that forehand. it sucks.” art muttered. patrick nodded, “i know. no way she’ll even make it through the semester.” “i’ll be surprised if she makes it through this match without fracturing her wrist.” patrick snickered at art’s comment.

actual mean girls LMAO

and to be fair, they were fucking amazing at tennis, especially when they played together

so it's not like anyone could necessarily insult them back

but it also wasn't bullying or anything

they were just judgy and loved to talk shit

art had some decorum about it or felt bad about it sometimes. not patrick though. 

man has no shame. never did. as art so lovingly puts it “the part of his brain that feels shame withered away a long time ago.”

art wore glasses from ages 12 till 14 

he then switched to contact lenses because patrick said girls dont like guys with glasses and that they make him look nerdy

they weren't allowed to have any sort of electronics like computers or flip phones at the academy. not even mp3 players. 

now obviously patrick completely ignored that rule. he had like three flip phones under his bed in case his actual one ever got taken (it did)

he also smuggled in 2 mp3 players (one was for art, patrick is so kind… he did charge him 4 dollars for it though. that rich asshole. lmao)

honestly i would like to insert here what i think they would have listened to but..i was like..a baby when they wouldve been at the academy so..feel free to drop your music headcanons in the reblogs or comments 

they were only allowed one weekly call to their families from the communal landline.

neither patrick nor art were very fond of these calls so even though they weren't supposed to they would always go into the phone room together.

patricks mother always insisted on speaking in german with her son. he thought she only did it because it made her feel more connected to his father’s side of the family. not like it would fix their fucked up marriage though. 

“nein, mama, ich habe mein deutsch nicht vergessen.” (no, mom, i havent forgotten my german) he sighs. art sits on the floor next to him and flicks a rubber band at him. “ja, verstanden. ja, ich weiß.” (yes, understood. yes, i know.) he rolls his eyes. 

art understood a few of the basic words since patrick taught him some german after art asked how to correctly pronounce his last name. 

“..bis nächste woche. tschüss.” (talk to you next week. bye.) he hung up. his mom said i love you but he knew she didn't mean it so he didn't say it back. 

patrick groaned and stretched out his legs that were seemingly getting longer by the day (art secretly prayed for a growth spurt that would make him taller than patrick. right now he was still pretty short for a guy his age.) 

he handed the phone to art. “she always talks so much. it's like i'm not even on the other line.” patrick scowls. art just nodded. he knew that by now.

art called his grandma but his dad picked up instead. it was okay. talking to his dad felt a little like talking to some distant uncle that he only saw once a year, “how's it going, champ?” “good.” “great.” that kinda stuff

the phone call lasted 5 minutes. he stood up and hung the phone back on the receiver. 

“wanna smoke?” patrick asked already reaching for the two loose cigarettes stuffed into his jean shorts pocket.

art nodded. he didn't really like smoking, and he kind of only did it because patrick did. and whenever he did, all he could think about was how bad for him it was. 

he was always pretty conscious about that kinda stuff, it was a little drilled into him by his dad who was the most adamant about art becoming a tennis player since he used to be one when he was younger.

so sugar and fats (basically anything that tasted good) were pretty much banned in the donaldson household 

which kind of resulted in art subconsciously believing that anything that brought him joy or pleasure must be inherently bad for him or followed by a feeling of guilt and shame to make up for it.

needless to say art wasn't the best at indulging. he was a little jealous of how patrick never seemed to have any issue with that sort of thing.

patrick didn't care about maintaining a good diet or depriving himself of life's pleasures for the sake of tennis. he took what he wanted like life owed it to him. 

maybe that's why he smoked with patrick. to try and be more like him?

also because it gave him a nice sense of rebellion.

most things he did with patrick gave him that feeling.

at the academy they were the definition of ‘not sold separately’

if you saw one the other wasn't far behind

its not like they didn't have other friends. they did. they were pretty popular actually

but none of those friendships were anything like what art and patrick had.

especially when playing doubles.

it felt like they could communicate telepathically 

patrick knew when art was going for the ball before the other team even served and vice versa.

tennis felt different when they were playing together. better.

and it felt so easy, it felt like nothing they needed to work on. their friendship was the same. it was so easy, so natural.

after about a year or so of being friends they started being in sync. literally.

they cross their legs at the same time, they pick up their rackets at the same time, they adjust their forehand grip at the same time, they walk at the same pace, they sit down the same etc etc you get it

also that isn't really a headcanon, like this is canon in the movie. and it makes me SICK that they were still in sync in 2019. after not talking for 12 years. shut up that’s some soulmate shit

now let's talk about something else that is canon…the pushed together beds.

yes!

now, i think patrick is a person that is pretty open with his body in general in terms of like being physically affectionate. or just being physical. 

i don't know if art is, i think he's a little more reserved. (repressed if you will! i will!)

but patrick touching him so casually does fill a little tiny (gaping) void in him that yearns for touch.

he is a professional yearner as we all know

and patrick never had an issue satisfying those yearnings for him. (i think we saw that in the fact that patrick taught art how to jerk off ok next topic)

patrick would sling his arm around his shoulder, lay his long legs over arts lap, ruffle arts curls (“stop that, you're messing them up.” “no, i'm not they always look like this”),he would barge into their room after practice flopping his tall sweaty body on top of art to annoy him.

they were very physically affectionate it was just all under the guise of shoving and tripping each other and just general teenage boy roughhousing shenanigans. that counts as a love language to me ok!

art got used to patrick touching him very quick and even reciprocated sometimes 

also i do think that sometimes patrick would smack art’s ass as a joke. lol. (that's inspired by that video of the two doubles players doing that…do you guys know what i’m talking about)

OK SO!

the beds.

they were 16. patrick suggested it. “these beds are too fucking small.” he complained, laying on his staring at the smoke detector that he had covered with a shower cap so it wouldnt detect the smoke from his cigarettes. 

and to be fair…yeah. patrick stood at 1,80 cm right now and his feet were hanging over the edge of the bed.

art looked up from his book which he was only reading to impress a girl he had a crush on. patrick had told him to just pretend he read it but art said that was disingenuous and he wanted to know what she liked and why she liked it. 

“you know what we should do? we should push our beds together.” patrick sat up, grinning like he just had the best idea ever. 

arts features twisted up in thought. “isn't that a little close?” 

“nah, why, we still have our own beds. just more space.” patrick shrugged.

he glanced at their beds. “uhhh…i guess we can do that. the beds are a little cramped. although is that even allowed?” art began fidgeting with his lip like he usually did when he was in thought.

but patrick was already in the process of shoving his bed next to arts after which he let himself fall onto the two beds in a starfish position, with his gangly limbs almost stretching to every corner of the beds. “oh. great. and i’ll just curl up at the foot of the bed then?” art gave patrick a deadpan stare. 

“up to you.” patrick grinned in that specific way that really irked art. 

patrick did make some space for him once they actually went to sleep that night

even now they were two opposites making a whole

patrick always ran cold so he hogged all the blankets and art always ran hot so he immediately kicked them off of him as soon as he fell asleep 

that only made this new pushed together beds thing even better for patrick because he now got to have his own blanket AND steal arts every night

i wouldn't say they cuddled necessarily? i think it was more just like the regular amount of physical touching that happens when you sleep in the same bed

which is still pretty intimate to me idk about you guys

like their legs kind of thrown over each others, art’s arm occasionally draped over patricks chest (or literally on his face. art denies every time that he does it on purpose but patrick KNOWS he does it to annoy him. he knows.) 

one time art had a nightmare of being trapped under a rock only to wake up and find out that somehow patrick had rolled over in the middle of the night and was now laying COMPLETELY on top of art. right before he was about to push him off (because he was making art actively suffocate) patrick rolled over again and fell out of bed. he didn't even wake up from that. genuinely just slept on the floor that night. freak of nature that guy.

also patrick for sure twitches like a dog in his sleep

and i think it used to wake art up because he's a pretty light sleeper but eventually he just got used to it lol

when art went to stanford he never finished the last bite of anything he ate because he was so used to patrick being next to him and just stealing the last bite.

patrick really really wanted to get his ears pierced when he was 15. 

so naturally he asked art to do it for him.

you know…like how they did it in the parent trap. which if you asked them is a movie that they definitely haven't seen. ( but they did see it and art cried at the twins reuniting with their parents, oops.)

unfortunately for patrick art was very very squeamish with needles at that age (i think that mellowed down the older he got but he still refused to look whenever he got vaccinations or anything like that.) 

so now it was midnight, they were in their room sitting on the floor and arguing

“dude, just do it, stop being such a wuss. you're not even the one getting pierced.” patrick groaned, he had numbed his earlobe with ice but he could already feel a little bit of the feeling return to it, that's how long they had been sitting there with art squirming around because he hated even looking at the sewing needle.  

“that's worse though because i have to look at the needle going in your ear!” art argued

“ well, i can't do it myself.” patrick replied.

...

“are you wearing my shirt?” art squinted at him

“stop trying to change the subject.” 

“i told you to stop stealing my clothes. i don't want to do laundry that often.”

“can you focus?” patrick groaned

“dude.. okay, fine. just give me a second.” art took a deep breath.

“oh. my god. you're not performing open heart surgery.” 

“shut the fuck up.”

“you shut the fuck up.” 

and what do you know that response got art to get over his fear of needles for a second and stab that thing right through his best friends ear 

the little high pitched yelp patrick let out in surprise at that is something art didn't let him forget about for like two weeks after

it took about another hour for art to pierce patricks second ear and eventually they managed but then like a week later patrick forgot to put his earrings in and the piercings immediately grew shut

so all that drama was for nothing!

i think art has always kind of been the type of guy to want domesticity. 

i already posted about this somewhere but i kind of came to that conclusion because patrick said “he wants to spend time with his family” to tashi in the alley scene

patrick hadn’t spoken to art for like a decade at that point

and you could say it's a good guess but NO! 

patrick knows art like the back of his hand and patrick knows that art has always wanted a family and how much it probably kills him to miss out on time with them due to his career at that point in time (also just throwing this out there i think art always wanted to have a daughter more than a son, like that just makes sense to me. maybe bc i think his own relationship with his dad is so distant? idk!)

so yeah

also the sauna scene where patrick says that marriage isn't what he was for 

(to me) also implies that he is the opposite of art who was meant for marriage

anyway do i think that art shared his wishes for a family and marriage in the future with patrick? yes

do i think patrick jokingly made art promise to make him his best man? yeah

and furthermore do i think about the fact that patrick then had to read about arts wedding in some tabloid years later? yep!

i’m sure i could think of more in the future but that's all i've got for now! i hope this was coherent enough to enjoy because it’s not as proofread as my fics usually are lol! i just wanted to get these thoughts out there

if some of these seem familiar it might be because i took some of these from my twt!

i also have some more headcanons floating around on my tumblr that i didn't include here if you want to find those, or not, i'm not your mom! 

[theyarebothgunshot]

re: Avengers and kinship

I'm currently (hopefully for a long time) working at school in a group of 11ys and let me tell you, the moment they really started to trust me was when they found out I like Avengers and superheroes too. Next day I brought the stickers - tea anon

amazing, love this for you 😌

[sarahreesbrennan]

I think this is a lovely addition and I am so glad you feel that way. I hoped some people would! I knew not everybody would.

Under a cut to spare your dash, friends, some thoughts about villainy…

I don’t know that we differ in substance, though perhaps in style. I’d say that I agree with you… but it’s complicated.

Long Live Evil poses many questions about the nature of villainy, who is assigned villainy and who gets the sympathy and understanding. It’s about the experience of being assigned villainy, but also understanding the assignment.

Rae is absolutely going through something so awful. She is very understandably angry about it. Indeed, most of the main characters of Long Live Evil have been THROUGH it. That’s part of why they’re seen as villains - though this perception also exists on an axis of gender, class, race, sexuality, disability. These things affect how they’re perceived and how they’re treated and how they act, and there is almost no way to disentangle cause and effect.

‘Under the present brutal and primitive conditions on this planet, every person you meet should be regarded as one of the walking wounded. we have never seen a man or woman not slightly deranged by either anxiety or grief. we have never seen a totally sane human being.’ - Robert Anton Wilson

This world hurts people. And then it can be very harsh to hurt people. We’re blamed for our wounds.

I agree Rae is a more interesting protagonist to me. That’s why I picked her. But there are very, very popular protagonists in fiction I find absolutely dull as ditchwater. (Not saying I find Alice dull. I love Alice.) I’m still interested in why audiences like them, and as I would like to have many readers too, I think about why things are popular a lot. I learn rules… sometimes simply that I may break them.

You might think Rae’s plight would engender sympathy: and for some it does. For many it doesn’t. And I knew that would be the case. I’ve seen it happen in real life many times.

—Someone in my close circle of friends publicly made fun of me for my ‘terrible anger issues’ at a time I was literally too sick to walk and barely able to breathe. I know that person thinks she’s a good person who was good to me.

—this is a very common thing to happen to chronically ill people. Most of my mentees, especially my younger mentees, have been abandoned by many friends who would all confidently state that this is the patient’s fault for being a bad person.

—one woman I know had her ex accurately recount all her behaviour to his new girlfriend without adding the reason why she ceased intimacy, got irritable and didn’t help around the house.

Sick people are legitimately hard to be around sometimes, and they get blamed for being so because it’s easier to blame a person than a disease. Other people don’t want to be the villain, so they make you the villain.

And the making of a villain is an interesting thing to me.

Rae being sick and Rae being perceived as evil and embracing that perception are inextricable. As a society, we are not truly sympathetic to victims. I knew it would be this way, but I still found myself shocked by the way some readers responded to her - she’s so evil that bitch got Key killed, she’s not even evil enough so she’s something pathetic that can be dismissed, she’s cringe because she uses humour as a coping mechanism, everything is her fault, it’s disgusting how much this formerly emaciated by illness woman talks about her boobs. But then, did Katniss in the Hunger Games get as much sympathy for literally starving as Peeta did for having his feelings hurt? (Note: Peeta also had many legitimate problems and I really like both characters.) And then again, isn’t feeling any kind of way about a character a compliment?

This is one of the reasons Rae is a woman. Society is set up to dismiss women’s pain, and discourage empathy with them. (And yet at the same time, we can’t demand anybody likes any specific character, regardless of gender. We can only observe patterns.)

And listen, I am not equating being a gorgeous talented famous artist with being chronically ill, but there is a phenomenon my friend who’s a psychologist has observed, which is that audiences get tired of famous women after a certain number of years (seven at most) and begin to criticise their looks or say they’re annoying or problematic.

Anne Hathaway and Jennifer Lawrence, both relatively inoffensive women, just had to basically go away for a while, until audiences were ready to go ‘wait, is Anne Hathaway talented and beautiful?’ (Yes she has been the whole time.)

The only woman who I’ve seen not have to slink into oblivion for several years when the tide of public opinion turned is, actually, Taylor Swift - there’s a piece online called ‘Darling, Villain, Victor’ which covers this very well. I like Taylor’s songs because a lot of them are narratives. And it was interesting to me to see the way she engaged with the narrative - going ‘okay yes I eat men for breakfast but also they flee from me, I’m drowning in diamonds, I’m covered in snakes, I’m wearing the evil makeup but also the eyeliner is running down my face because I am HYSTERICAL’ - and people looked stupid for saying the thing she’d already said about herself, outsized. Someone who also does this is Dolly Parton. ‘Yes I am everything you say about me. Now what?’

I did find that inspiring. I did want to claim, for my vipers and myself, the beauty and freedom of that ‘Now what?’ Anger is how we survive. We will be blamed for anger and for survival. Okay. Now what?

Another inspiration is the Interview with the Vampire quote ‘evil is a point of view.’ Not one of the Time of Iron characters think of themselves as people who enjoy cruelty for cruelty’s sake. Sure, some glory in justified vengeance, but that’s okay, right…?

To be able to see yourself as the villain in someone else’s story is, in some ways, an act of radical empathy. It’s an early thing Key says that makes him fun to me - that he’s like oh yes, I am evil. He’s very clear-eyed about the fact that, say, many of the people at the glass blowers’ guild (relatively innocent pleasant individuals) were from their point of view flat out murdered by a homicidal maniac for no reason whatsoever. Still when he tells his story, Rae is sympathetic - and it is also the tale of an abused child and a pitilessly corrupt society.

Key isn’t human. And he’s not a sociopath. Key is a god. And actually, it’s considered morally acceptable for gods to raze cities or worlds for sinning, and even to kill their children. But if a god thought he was human and evil, then what? (Was Athena traumatised by her birth?)

Yet another inspiration for me is Congreve. ‘I love her with her faults. Nay, I love her for her faults.’ I did want the vipers to not just be misunderstood darlings but to commit crimes and have serious personality problems.

Does Rae deserve more sympathy than she gets? Sure. At the same time, I really wanted her to have hubris. I refer to Greek plays a lot - where the deus ex machina was invented, art designed for the audience to be rocked and purged by emotion - and it’s this classic failing, to be arrogant and think you can avoid destiny and get this outsize punishment for it. (And people haaate women to be arrogant, and I knew they would find that annoying about her.) Rae doesn’t want Key or Emer to be hurt, but they are both people of a lower class in her employ, whose lives she knows are only saved in the original narrative by another aristocratic woman - and she deliberately sets out to use them and that does put them in harm’s way. Emer is whipped. Key is whipped twice and killed. Rae is not corporally punished in the same way servants are. But then again, when death looms, what choice does she have? Is she the one ultimately responsible for hurting them? No. But does that mean she bears no responsibility at all, when she made a bargain with them? Do we get to hurt others just because we’re hurt? When is lashing out because of trauma okay, never or always? Well…

It’s tricky to discuss personality flaws, because some characters get more sympathy while others’ faults get magnified. I’ve seen Rae discussed as more privileged than Marius - Lord Marius Valerius, second-most powerful man in the kingdom, in possession of literal superpowers, and uh - very arrogant at times himself. (And I love Marius and he has many very legitimate problems!) They are both flawed people. Very few feel villainous to themselves. Very little of what the people we love do to others feels villainous to us. I will miss Octavian so much as an antagonist, because he was such a great one - never for a moment did he consider he was being anything but heroic, and I do think at bottom he was a very ordinary guy, with an absolutely normal capacity for empathy. Yet all that power and privilege and the empty assurance of others and fame ate him right up. He didn’t ever have to look through anyone else’s eyes, and see himself the villain.

But also, can you look at the abyss, and not be changed? Rae at the start of the story would not be capable of tossing a man off the battlements of a tower into a yawning ravine full of flame with a wild, mocking laugh. But she IS that person by the end - and some of us are with her! It’s a villain origin story, emphasis on origin.

So yes it’s wish fulfilment, and yes it’s about villainy, and about having different perceptions of villainy, and which sins and flaws are forgivable in which people... We all have different perceptions. I am posing the questions, but you may have a different answer than I - if either of us find any answers at all.

Still the questions are worth asking. I do believe that.

Truly, thank you for having sympathy with my viper queen.

I remember reading in one of your blog entries (years ago??) that in the new book you were writing, the main character's *sister* had cancer. Does that mean that Alice was originally the main character of Long Live Evil? Was she going to go into the book to save Rae, instead of Rae going in to save herself?

How extremely kind of you to remember!

No, that was actually a YA murder mystery that I wrote while ill, revised while recovering, and sent out into the world where it died on submission. (Which means we sent it out to about 12 editors and the editor either said no, or said yes and took it to acquisitions - a group of people at the publisher including sales and marketing - and acquisitions said no.)

One editor told me she really wanted and really tried to buy it. Another person who worked in publishing (and has since changed jobs, or I wouldn’t share this) said the response at her acquisitions was - if you like this writer, find the next her (implications about health and youth were made).

I was terrified my agent was going to ditch me too, but she said ‘We’ll sell that one day, for now let’s write the next thing.’

I remember another writer telling me she missed my work that wasn’t a tie-in, and I felt ashamed to tell her it wasn’t that I wasn’t writing other things - it was that I couldn’t publish them.

The tie-ins meanwhile were paying the bills (they still are tbh!) and I was and remain so grateful for them. But I also really loved writing them - especially my Sabrina tie-ins, you don’t forget the first, and it reminded me I want to write horror and poly one day - and how they got me to love and sympathise with so many fandoms.

I see the burnout of caregivers all around me, and I wanted to write the story of one. But maybe I also wanted to take a step back from cancer. I didn’t think I did, at the time. I had a whole lot of things I tried writing before Long Live Evil, and I think some of them were really good. One of my critique partners gave me a lipstick with the same name as someone in the murder mystery. There was a romance novel another critique partner said was her favourite thing I’d ever written. But none had someone with cancer at the heart of the story.

And even though Rae isn’t much like me, maybe I had to start there. You can’t make real magic using someone else’s liver. Maybe I had to wait to be brave enough to use my own liver.

I do get requests for advice on how to cope with rejection of your writing, and I always worried I didn’t have anything else to say, but I suppose my example says - if you can, (and I know it’s hard, you feel so terrible at writing and so useless) (and you love the work you’ve done so much and you don’t see a way forward to loving the next thing) (but still, if you possibly can) write the next thing.

Even if the first thing sells, you’ll want the next thing one day. Writing the next thing is more writing practise, so it’ll make you better. Write the next thing.

Ultimately I’m really glad Long Live Evil was my comeback book. I think it needed to be. It took the time it took.

But maybe it was a shade of that past book (where the heroine’s sister with cancer was six, so not much like any of the Time of Iron characters) that made me think of the YA version of this book, which I always had in my mind as something I was intentionally hewing away from - a more straightforward book, a book that might have sold better - in which shy reader Alice was the hero. She’s the one with the suggestive hero name - Alice through the looking glass - the heroine looks, and the more projectable-upon personality. She’d get called annoying less often (though still some, because she’s a girl), partly because she is (with love, Rae knows I’m right) a genuinely less annoying person. Much kinder, much sweeter, and much better at in-depth reading! Her sister being in trouble would’ve been a backstory, a catalyst point, and - you’re totally right - a great motivation for her to get the Flower. Saving a family member is a much more sympathetic and heroic motivation than saving yourself and one I do love (the Hunger Games, Labyrinth, Mahy’s the Changeover, and I write it a lot!). I think Snarky While Tragically Dying Rae would’ve been a pretty popular side character, too. I think it would’ve been a good book! Just not mine.

I love your question because I love thinking about POV, and all the decisions that are the building blocks of a story. To me, the Alice centric Time of Iron is a version that exists. As are several versions of the Lia centric Time of Iron. And versions centring other characters exist to me, too. (Eric, absolutely.)

Speaking of POV musing, I think Rahela the wicked stepsister featured more in the musical than the book. If the Time of Iron series ever became a TV show (and at this point in time I think I’d rather a movie because it wouldn’t… get cancelled…) and I got to write it (don’t know why I would…) I would start with the beginnings for three characters about to go on a journey to somewhere strange to them: Key in the Cauldron, Rae in the hospital, and Vasilisa in the icelands. There are so many possibilities! And I really wanted the sense that there were so many possibilities, too.

But I wanted the chronically ill one to be the centre of the story, and for it to be her villain origin story, and to ask a lot of questions (hence a lot of villains!) about who gets villainised and why. And I thought hers, to my mind, would be the most fun of all the possible stories.

So that’s the one I made. But Long Live Evil has a lot of origins. Thank you for remembering one of them! I don’t think I would’ve dared tell the story, if things hadn’t worked out for me (so far, fingers crossed).

And I also tell it to be clear my publisher was taking a RISK with me and Long Live Evil, and I really appreciate that, and I’m so happy it’s worked out for them (again so far, early days, fingers crossed, etc).

I hope some writers - whether in the process of submission, rejection or making the choices that are the building blocks of story - find this helpful, and some readers find it interesting.

Let this be one of the universes in which your story is told.

[residencyisstrange]

mouthwashing is one of those important pieces of media to me because it opens my eyes to different topics and perspectives

[sirenium]

It's okay to use contradictory labels. I know, I'm probably being redundant here. But I want to make sure anyone who hasn't heard it today gets to chance to hear it. You're valid. I don't care if you're a boy in whatever way, and you're also a lesbian, nor do I care if you're a girl in some way and also gay. I don't mind if you're omni, pan, bi, poly, or abro and a lesbian/gay. Are you aroace spec as well as mspec? Nice! Are you a mixture of all of these things? Something I missed? Cool!

Complicated identities are no less valid than identities that fit into boxes. And I will keep saying that, because there are still people in the world who insist on what you can and can't be (I swear I've said something like that word for word before, but sbsbs), whether it be your average homophobic grandpa or some exclusionist on twitter.💀

[anarkhebringer]

I woke up to this and am really thinking about this

[crimsononiarataki]

One thing a lot of people weren't aware of about the Oni was his meticulousness when it came to work. Another thing was the fact that he was damn near a workaholic but there wasn't anything stopping him from pushing, and pushing until he damn near collapsed, either. He found thing he liked, and he studied them however he could, from books on the subject matter, to courses in other nations. Word of mouth from a professional helped to an extent as well, but he preferred hands on, especially with things like stonework.

"Properly tempered metal works really well for various things, thickenin' the floor above the warehouses will be the purpose of what I plan on doin',"

Bamboo and stone could easily protect the warehouses from most of the weather, but he wanted to be doubly sure that the other male's livelihood wouldn't be interrupted due to weather in Inazuma. Those who lived in the nation of eternity since birth knew how to handle things, and people like the Oni could also smell when rain was going to happen, even before it hit. He was also able to discern when a storm was going to be a thunderstorm too, by the scent in the air. Balethunder zones smelt somewhat like a perpetual thunderstorm, but there was something else within those that made them a bit more uncomfortable. Though, since he wasn't normal they didn't really have much of an effect on him. He tended to describe them as having a slight tingle.

Since he'd already started making his way to his handcrafted bamboo gate, he wouldn't know that Diluc was watching him in any certain way at all. And even if he did it was doubtful he'd think anything of it. Especially since it had been some time since they were able to spend any time talking to one another in person. Sending letters was one thing speaking in person was something else entirely.

He was still referred to as a troublemaker, or a walking curse, a bad omen, that sort of thing. He never let it bring him down though. He knew he was none of those things, he was a hardworking Yokai trying to do his best to aid the people of Inazuma. Nothing more and nothing less. Perhaps it was a bit of joy in the work and also a lot more being that the taller male was very much a workaholic. He pushed, and pushed, and pushed some more to ensure that a job was completed within whatever time limit given. If he had to go a few nights without proper sleep that was fine. He knew Diluc wouldn't set an unrealistic time limit on the project. Luckily, flooring and digging didn't take long, nor did roofing.

"Alright, I feel it'll need to be taller. Usin' a local wood would help it blend in, though the location ifs pretty well hidden as it is. You'll see what I mean tomorrow."

After he left the common area and went upstairs, he'd be gone for a few minutes before returning, carrying a sketchbook and something to draw with. It would also be used to note things down without the need for a notebook, the pages were large enough that a couple could be used without making much of a dent in the amount of pages within the book itself.

"So I was thinkin' one of these sorts of designs for the stonework."

He'd open the book and flip a few pages before showing Diluc three different styles of stonework. None were overly simple but they were also not overly complicated, either. If the redhead didn't like any of them, he could easily draw up a few other ideas, or the Mondstadtian could tell him the sort of design he was envisioning for what would be visible, and he could figure something out with that.

Diluc listened intently as Itto outlined his plans, the Oni’s excitement spilling over in the details. It was clear Itto was skilled with his hands, not only because of his element but because he had genuinely pursued knowledge in crafting and construction. The Oni’s mix of pride and humility—an eagerness to take on a project outside his usual work—was almost contagious.

A subtle smile flickered on Diluc’s lips as he imagined Itto tearing up old floorboards with his usual gusto. “You’ve thought this through exceptionally well. The idea of layering metal with bamboo and stone… it’s inventive. And ideal for Inazuma’s climate. The floors will stay resilient against any weather, and the cooling effect of the materials should work better than anything I’d use back in Mondstadt.” His words were precise, analytical—part praise, part acknowledgment of Itto’s genuine talent.

Diluc felt something pull at him as he watched Itto, who had already started down the garden path. There was a sense of pride, admiration even, seeing Itto so invested in making this work. Diluc held that feeling in check, schooling his face to remain stoic, unwilling to show that undefined pull.

As they walked toward the small gate, Diluc’s gaze lingered for a moment on Itto’s back, tracing the easy, confident way he moved. The man who was regarded as a troublemaker for no reason, had always shown him nothing but loyalty and a hidden strength. There was a warmth in Itto’s spirit, a sense of joy in the work that Diluc envied, perhaps even admired.

At the mention of the estate’s land, he nodded, already imagining the future possibilities. “Fruit trees would be excellent. Some Mondstadt varieties should adapt well here. And a perimeter fence might be necessary, especially when the winery’s operational.”

They continued up to the Gang’s headquarters, and as Itto went to retrieve his sketchbook, Diluc allowed himself a moment of reflection. Itto was an anchor of sorts—unrelenting, unpretentious, with the kind of loyalty that didn’t ask for much in return. And though he’d never say it outright, Diluc knew he trusted Itto with this endeavor more than he would have with anyone else. This wasn’t simply a business project; it felt like a shared collaboration, one that bridged their past with an unspoken understanding.

[euclydya]

like no matter what there's always gotta be a hypersexual bitch in our rosters and that hypersexual bitch is me. hilarious but also why

[orpheusilver]

ok i guess im posting my dnd opinions today. alignment as a system is so fickle and debated because the average ttrpg player is not somebody who is interested in philosophical theory, let alone an in-depth discussion of morality, so defining both the good/evil and chaotic/lawful spectrums is fucking difficult because NOBODY here is equipped to answer questions like "what is evil?" let alone "what makes a person Inherently Evil or Inherently Good", and the fact that the average dnd group would need to satisfactorily ANSWER those questions in order to rules-lawyer certain spells/items/abilities is absolutely fucking ridiculous