#just be nice to her Ace she just wants a friend

[its10pm]

Michael Afton Headcanons

Just a fun headcanon dump to get into the writing mood :) These are super random though. I think I'm possessed.

Mike is a huge pirate fan. He wanted to be a pirate until he was 8 (which is when he wanted to be an astronaut).

His favorite food is lasagna (his mom's is the best).

He's super tall and has always been super tall. The coach ran him down to play basketball his sophomore year of high school.

He's been working for his dad since he was seven. By the time he's in high school, he can basically run any shift by himself.

His best classes in high school are gym, physics and art class.

He would eat at least two full boxes of pizza per day, if he were allowed to.

He's really good at all of their arcade games. His highest score is in Pac-Man, though.

He's super scared of heights.

He went to a British primary school in London before his dad moved back to Utah when he was 6.

He "learned" how to play the electric guitar when he was fourteen. "Learned" is doing a lot of heavy lifting, because he can only read tab and really only learned riffs and some easy AC/DC songs.

Somehow, he's still able to impress people, even though he is clearly just abusing a whammy bar.

He plays basketball, football and baseball. He likes sports because he means he's home less.

He really likes cars a lot. He suped up his truck's engine when he was 16 and has almost wrecked it in races with other high schoolers multiple times. But car stuff is how he bonds with William, Henry and Ralph.

He's been smoking since he was 11. William doesn't really care, as long as he doesn't steal his.

He spends a lot of time taking over house activities for his mom, when she's too tired to get out of bed. This has made him a pretty good cook, though.

He's kind of a cool guy in school, but he's sort of seen as a 'bad kid' and a 'huge asshole', so he's definitely got a smaller group of friends. This is fine, because he's kind of a loner anyway.

He gets pretty good grades, except for in English class (he has dyslexia).

He has a pretty huge crush on Maria Rodriguez. He embarrasses himself to try and impress her a lot.

When he was thirteen, he broke his arm wrestling the school security guard to impress a girl. His friends have not let him live this down.

When he was fifteen, he drove into the school's gym while trying to show his friends a sick car trick over the weekend. His father has yet to let him live this down.

He and William fight a lot. I mean, most of the time. But they're kind of similar people, with similar senses of humor and some overlapping interests, so sometimes they can have friendly conversations with each other.

Mike likes gossiping with his Aunt Vangie (Henry's wife) and his mom.

When he was fourteen, he made up a game of throwing up lawn darts and having the neighborhood kids catch them. This was stopped after a few too many close calls.

He also made a game of rolling kids down hills in tractor tires. This was only stopped after he got bored of it.

He's the kind of guy that punches wholes in the dry wall.

He used to BMX, but Chip is way better at it, so he gave that dream up because he hates being one-upped by his own posse.

He doodles sometimes in class. He likes to impress girls by drawing them. He also likes trying the Fazbear band. A lot.

Foxy is his favorite animatronic. He ships him with Chica.

He rough-houses with Evan and Elizabeth. A lot.

This includes farting on their heads and forces them to smell his arm pit.

He cackles.

He's a cool guy, so he sneaks out to go to parties a lot.

Sometimes this means stealing William's nice cars, which he will always end up regretting.

He likes watching soaps with his mom.

He's the best of all his siblings of picking up his room.

His room is full of posters of hot supermodels and Playboy models, by the way.

He's given all of the animatronics personalities. Bonnie's is the malevolent, in his view.

He's very violent and gets into physical fights with others a lot.

Big undiagnosed bipolar disorder energy.

He chews gum all the time. Literally all the time. It's very annoying.

He had a Mormon baby blessing, but he was never baptized.

He gets invited to church activities sometimes. People almost always regret it.

He dresses in the more general, 80s rock 'n' roll, hair metal style, but he is a goth rock lover.

His middle name is James.

He smokes weed sometimes. But he mostly just drinks.

His mom's parents live in Virgin. He doesn't visit them that often, even though they're kind of close, because William is embarrassed to be associated with them. He is the oldest of their grandchildren, though. (Teen pregnancy things.)

He was sent to a pretty extensive psychiatric programme in Draper after killing Evan.

He graduated high school early.

[m1d-45]

the corner of 1st and 9th

summary: you've given a little too much information to your favorite barista... not that it matters, when he already knows.

word count: 3k

-> warnings: stalking . he is unwell guys

-> gn reader (you/yours) is a hot drink enjoyer . mb

taglist: @samarill || @sarienic || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

reasons to NOT think that he is stalking you:

you tap your pen on the corner of your paper, eyes glancing between your writing and the clock. there’s no sound but the intermittent ac and the chatter of voices from the common room, a group of your dormmate’s friends that you’re not keen on interacting with. it’s a reminder of the fact that you’re assuredly spending too much time locked up in your room thinking about this, but you can’t stop. you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, about him.

thoma was a normal barista at an innocuous cafe. and he was definitely, assuredly not stalking you… right?

you go there fairly often

the estate was a dimly unpopular cafe set right near your dorms, perfectly on the way to most of your classes and not too far out of the way if you wanted a quick bite. despite clearly being a family business, it had managed to partner with the university, and accepted the meal plan you were forced to buy. given its proximity to you and the fact that the other options got rather repetitive, you frequented the small shop. it was never too crowded, so it wasn’t impossible to assume that you were one of the few regulars.

there were exactly two consistent baristas that worked there, with the occasional new face only ever showing for a few days. there was no set uniform, as far as you could tell. one was a young girl, likely another student, who constantly yawned and always had to push up her sleeves to work the register. she didn’t talk much; the one time you had complimented her sweater, she looked at you like you were a raccoon that had waltzed in and tried to pay with cash.

the other was the object of your paranoia: thoma, a chatty redhead who always seemed to drag out the conversation longer than he had to. he didn’t wear a name tag, but did introduce himself after you gave your name for your order, like you were meeting as friends and not in a mercantile exchange. when he handed you your receipt, there was a doodle of a dog in a suit at the bottom wishing you a good day.

your schedule was rather uneven, what with waxing and waning stress and assignments and the various misaligned tests you had to take. but still, you had credits to burn and their menu was solid, so you came back whenever you wanted.

2. he’s just being nice

thoma was an occasionally odd guy, but not overtly strange. he smiled and said hello and goodbye in the regular tone someone in customer service would, provided they were either really enthusiastic about their job or desperately trying not to get fired. he wore a plain black tee and jeans and despite the silver tags around his neck, never really screamed ex-military. he seemed rather young to be deployed anyway…

regardless, he was still just a normal guy. it was normal to memorize someone’s order if they came back so often, right? normal. it was normal to ask why you looked tired, or what had happened if you were in a better mood, or to wish you luck if you were about to head to class.

he was a normal, nice guy. he never made a big deal if you came in near closing time—in your defense, their hours seemed to shift from week to week—and still recited your usual back to you in case it had changed.

it never did. his smile was proud whenever you said so.

he was forgiving, from what you could see. whenever another staff member made a mistake, or if a customer dropped something, or if a funny looking bird flew by the window and he spilled whatever he was holding, he was quick to laugh it off. he laughed a lot, actually. rarely was any visit when he was working devoid of it, whether loud and excited or quietly amused. when he wasn’t, he wore an easygoing grin, the kind that implicitly forgave you for tripping over your words or the rug by the front door. he worked quickly and quietly and sometimes you’d find you were given a discount “just because.”

3. you’re probably overthinking things.

the problem had started around the same time midterms did.

the attendees at the tables grew sparser, busy studying or sleeping or praying. there were days when you’d walk in and be the only one there, aside from whoever was at the counter that day. when you walked in, you had just enough time to see the deep frown etched on thoma’s face before it slipped away, customer service smile back on his face.

you debated over whether to ask the entire time you waited. it was the polite thing to do, wasn’t it? it wasn’t as if you were friends, but still. if someone’s sad, you ask why. that’s the normal thing to do..

he still called your name, despite you being the only one there. how did this place stay afloat? surely there was some bigger chain willing to pay the rent. the middle of a college campus was the best spot for a place selling caffeine..

now that you thought about it, why was this place so quiet?

you shook it off and went to pick up your drink, finding a small pastry there instead. you blinked, looking up to correct him, but he was already looking at you with the same smile as always.

“they’re going to go out of date soon,” he explained, “and we over-ordered, anyway. take as many as you want!”

…odd. this didn’t look like a new building. did they not know business slowed around this time?

but not too far out of order. you took the freebie, waited a few minutes longer for your drink, and went on your day.

reasons TO think he is stalking you:

he knows where you are

you, like everyone else, had assignments due, and tests to get to. your free time dwindled to a select few naps, and your, like everyone else’s, trips to the cafe slowed to a stop.

and yet, the next time you visited, he knew.

he knew.

you dragged yourself through the doors on a spur of whim, determined to reward yourself for making it through the past few weeks. god, you were tired. you blinked the exhaustion from your eyes long enough to find the barista on shift; thoma, as usual, greeted you with a smile.

“welcome back! same as usual?”

you nodded, digging through your wallet, but instead of punching in your order as usual, he reached behind him, setting down a to-go cup in front of you.

it was still steaming.

you froze, the sight settling into your exhausted mind, unable to even force your hands to pay.

why the fuck did thoma know you were coming back today?

you didn’t even know you were coming. this was an impulse, an idea you barely thought through.

after what you can only assume is too long, he lets out a laugh. not nervous, or uncomfortable, but the same casual laugh as when he spills something while someone’s watching. your eyes find his, easygoing and bright.

“i hope you’re not too surprised,” he starts, like you’re not keenly aware of every beat of your heart. “i just figured you should get some rest as soon as possible.”

is it worse, you wonder, if he just made the same drink every day until you came back and simply got lucky? that’s the only answer that doesn’t involve you calling student services, but even that makes your skin crawl. you pay as fast as you can and grab the drink, rushing the rest of the trip back to your dorm.

it went cold on your desk, too unnerving to ever take a sip of.

2. he knows your schedule

it took… a lot of mental energy to force yourself back to the estate. you didn’t even want to go, not really, but the other options nearby either didn’t take school credits or simply tasted worse. you didn’t know what it was, but it was always off. too strong, too weak, with an odd aftertaste. it was a different problem every time, one that wore down your resistance.

nothing was better than a (technically not) free pick-me-up. you had all these credits anyway, you might as well use them on something you actually liked, right?

it’s not like you were known for making good decisions, okay? maybe… maybe it was just a fluke? maybe you could ask him about it. there’s even a chance that it’s not him working the counter!

…yeah, not a chance. a quick glance inside shows the same bright copper hair as always… though the girl is at the register this time, and he’s in the back. there’s only a handful of other people inside, so you’re probably fine.

you walked in, the bell ringing, a few patrons looking up on instinct. the girl at the register does the same right as thoma abandoned the order he was working on, tapping her on the shoulder. “sayu, let me handle this one, okay?”

great. sayu, apparently, looks at you with what you can only describe as pity, shrugging and returning to the back counter. you stood a bit further from the counter than normal, but thoma still continued to smile.

“hey there! your usual?”

he looked so normal. you couldn’t ignore how pleasant his smile was, how easily he waved like he wasn’t the reason you stayed up until the sun rose, unable to look away from the cup on your desk. it almost annoyed you, knowing he probably didn’t even think about it. so you grabbed that irritation, twisted it into words, and pushed it through your teeth; “how did you know when i was going to come here?”

for a moment, his smile faltered. his laugh was quieter, nervous, nothing like before. he shrugged, pushing up the bandana around his forehead, green eyes avoiding yours. “ah, lucky guess?”

you’re a lot of things. stupid is.. probably on that list, given your presence here, but you’re not stupid enough to believe him about that. to his credit, he seems to recognize that, shoulders slumping with a sigh.

“okay, that’s a lie. i’m sorry.” he shakes his head, as if chiding himself for trying. “one of my friends happened to see you, and he said you looked upset. i thought you might appreciate the thought…?”

yeah, you might, if that wasn’t a fucking insane thing to do.

he looks sheepish enough, or as much as one can when it’s clear he doesn’t actually feel bad for what he did.

“…don’t do it again. it’s weird.”

it’s comical, how much he brightens, standing straighter like a flower finally put in the sun. “of course! if you don’t mind the wait, then i’m not complaining.”

that should have been it. you paid, you waited, and though sayu is the one that makes your drink it’s thoma that called you up to the counter. it’s a constant, at this point, same as your order and the chipper grin as he handed you your drink instead of leaving it there, a wax bag in his other hand.

“take this as an apology,” he explains, “i really didn’t mean to unnerve you.”

sure. you’re willing to believe that, if only for the sake of normalcy. you took both, the warmth easing your tense hands.

he lingered. he always did. he stood, and waited, and when he had enough of your staring, he spoke. “if there’s anything else i can do, just let me know. i could even give you my notes to study, if you want! i know you’ve got a test coming up.”

you’re learning to hate his smile. it’s so easy, his words soft and fluid with a genuine curiosity that sent chills across your skin.

there’s the possibility that he just also attends school. you’re aware of that. you swallowed your fear and managed the breath to ask what you really, really didn’t want to know. “do you also have ms yae?”

if you had access to a time machine… well, you’d stop yourself from ever stepping foot in the estate to begin with. but if you couldn’t do that, you’d come back to that instant, and keep yourself from ever asking such a stupid question.

some things were better unsaid. never did you understand that more than when thoma replied, eyes as sharp as a blade of grass.

“of course not. but you do, don’t you?”

you put your pen down, the ink from your anxious tapping now covering most of the upper corner of the page.

you hate it. you hate it. you hate that you wrote his name willingly, you hate that you’re so shaken by something you could have easily avoided, you hate that your life has taken such a turn.

you should have just stayed gone. you’ve stopped now, but now he knew you were stuck here for this semester. leaving mid-term would wreak havoc on your transcript, let alone your grades or schedule or however you were supposed to find another college to attend on such short notice.

you refocus on your list. objectively speaking, there’s more reasons to think this is normal, but the downside of lists like this is that they failed to fully capture the way your heart had dropped that day.

it was a month ago. a month, and you haven’t been able to stop looking over your shoulder whenever you went outside. you should really just call someone…

would student services be open at this hour?

you dig through the school’s website for a bit, but only find an address and a phone number for the department head. what “department” this falls under, you’re not sure, and you’re not keen on making a call less than an hour before midnight, so you don’t ask either. no dice. not for a few hours, at least. it’s just you, not really alone in your dorm, both because of the phantoms in your periphery and the fact that the walls are thin, letting you hear the cheers and disappointment of whatever game they’re playing in the common room.

it’s a bit of an anchor. the world is still going to turn, after all, and you need to be ready to meet it; you need to rest. being on edge for so long is wearing you down, and the weight on your shoulders will only grow if you keep sitting here. after a moment to consider the paper, you rip the list of your worries into short shreds, dumping the remains into the trash. you stand, stretch, and begin to tidy up, plugging in your phone and reaching for your water bottle, only to find it empty. you must have forgotten to refill it in your panic.. you look to the door, mentally weighing the benefits of going out and refilling it. there’s people in the common room, and you’re not too keen on being looked at right now, but it’s not as if they’re the ones plaguing you. it’s a common room for a reason, and filling it now will reduce the number of things to do tomorrow morning.

in search of a blessing for your future self, you unlock and open your door, the voices getting louder. some are familiar, but you shelve the memories. you have a mission. you unscrew the cap as you walk, aiming for the small kitchenette against the wall. archons willing, you won’t even have to interact with anybody. you walk, avoiding their eyes and even doing a rather good job at it, in your opinion. you fill your bottle, lingering just long enough to get the cap on without spilling anything, and turn to leave.

in a moment of weakness, you glance at the tv. there’s some sort of pvp game going on, with both players and bystanders crowded around the lone couch, most watching the ebb and flow of victory in earnest.

most, except one. on the floor, hands neatly in his lap, is the last person you want to see. he’s missing his bandana, but he still has that same smile, one gloved hand raised in a familiar wave.

you don’t think about what he’s said or done. you don’t think about the fact that you definitely should have told your roommates not to let him in. no, all you can think about is the fact that he now knows where you live, right down to the suite number.

it takes a lot of effort to drag your eyes away, pulling your feet into the dorm. you don’t want to think about how much effort it will take to leave tomorrow.

you don’t want to think about what could be waiting for you.

[goldfish-fhr]

[yunmeng-jiang]

workin on my first scum villain fic!!

[shima-draws]

So my roommate is also into One Piece. I’m not sure if he’s watched any of the anime, I know for sure he’s watched the live action, but earlier tonight he came upstairs and watched a few episodes with me while waiting for a food delivery, and then he got hooked, and then he sat and watched MORE episodes with me without really knowing what was going on. But it was still wildly entertaining to him, esp since I’m right in the middle of one of the (arguably) best arcs rn, and now he wants to finish the arc with me LOL. NOBODY is immune to One Piece propaganda. Or Bon-chan 🥰

[horrorwebs]

why are men literally the fucking worst

[tempestclerics]

.

[gonmyson]

Guys I think I’m probably autistic and I don’t know what to do about it

[autism-corner]

big tragedy

[gepm251-blog]

Still haven't cried cause I don't think I'm even heartbroken,

gave up on you as soon as the tenth time was truly over,

to find that your name is the only part that's true,

whatever girl it was four years and I remember two.

And the two were my first love and my first broken heart,

that one should always cherish even if they hurt.

But every pain and every joy was just your master plan,

and the gods do not take pride just cause I did not run,

For dumping my iron shield of goodness on the battlefield

Was what my people truly and dearly clearly wished for me

For the battle that you made of me was not of glory,

Just of nonsense, paper griefs and a tattered story.

To keep my eyes on you must have been your joy and terror,

So now I cry for my past self and her wasted effort.

Still haven't cried the revelation came a bit too late,

My affection and my trust not even in the waste,

But I'm rewriting every second with the pen of truth,

As I've healed from my depression I'm no more a fool.

[innerfare]

You’re Jealous

 Summary: You get jealous of someone else in his life.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Slight Angst // Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy:

He never told you Boa Hancock was in love with him, and when you find out, you have to remove yourself from the situation before you have an emotional outburst and start something with the Pirate Empress. The problem is, you don’t even know which emotion will spill out of you. Finding out the world’s most beautiful woman, and a powerful Warlord, no less, is desperate to marry Luffy is a whirlwind, to say the least. Luffy can seem clueless at times, but his emotional intelligence is through the roof, and he picks up on what has you upset almost straight away. He knows to give you some space, and when he senses you’re ready, he approaches you with a handful of wildflowers he picked. He doesn’t really say much, just pulls you into a hug, presses a few kisses into your cheek and temple, and says in your ear, “you’re my girl.” 

Zoro:

He didn’t mention Perona was also at Mihawk’s castle for those two years until a few months after the crew gets together. He tells a story that features her, and you realize there was a woman keeping him company. Your heart drops into your stomach. Zoro insists he didn’t mention her because he didn’t think she was relevant; the only thing Perona did those two years was annoy him. He’s actually the one who won’t let it go, not you (even though you are pretty jealous). Whereas you’d prefer not to talk about it, Zoro is wracked with guilt because he’d never considered the whole thing in a relationship context. Him fretting constantly over it actually heals your jealousy because you realize you’ve never seen him panic over the prospect of hurting anyone else’s feelings. 

Sanji:

Even with a third eye, Pudding is stunning. And Sanji almost married her. It was before you two were together, but listening to the stories from Whole Cake, hearing how close he came to marrying another woman, knowing she really did fall in love with his kind heart and wonderful cooking, turns you into a little green monster. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous of a woman you’ve never met before, a woman Sanji chose not to marry, but you can’t help it. Sanji is completely shocked that you would feel jealous over his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Pudding, though after thinking about it some more, he does realize why you might be jealous that he had a fiancé. His solution is to bring you a bouquet of roses and walk you through the dark details of his life, telling you things he’s never outright told anyone, so you understand the special place you have in his life. 

Ace:

He collects people without trying, and often times, without realizing, either. Ace thinks he’s just making friends, but you see the way the women he laughs and shares drinks with are drawn to him like plants to the sun. He promises them freedom and adventure (and he has a very nice laugh), and you can see how it excites them. You don’t really mind it, knowing Ace well enough to see the way he holds those women at arm’s length, even if he seems close with them (such is the magic of Fire First Ace). But Yamato makes you jealous. It’s not hearing the way they laughed together but hearing the way they fought that gets to you. You know how Ace lives to fight and even just roughhouse, you know how he’s a rough and tumble guy, and you worry you’re not tough enough. Should you be punching his arm when he makes a joke? Should you be trying to trip him out on deck? What should you be doing? When you finally come clean with Ace about what’s been bothering you, he actually laughs. “If I wanted to be with someone who gives me hell, I’d be sleeping in Marco’s cabin every night. Besides,” he says, scooping you up in his arms, “I like being able to manhandle you.” 

Sabo:

Sabo is a flirt, and you knew that going into your relationship. It actually doesn’t bother you when he flashes that charming smile of his at someone else or swoops in to save a damsel in distress (a speciality of his) and even serves to entertain, especially on the rare occasions his flirtations are rebuked. What does bother you, though, is his tight relationship with Koala. You know it’s ridiculous to be envious, you know Koala would sooner saw off her arm than kiss the man she considers her irksome big brother, but they’ve known each other since they were little kids, and Koala has been through so much with Sabo that the pair have such a close bond. It’s not the angry kind of jealousy that bubbles up in you when Koala mentions something about Sabo’s past that she assumes you know but you don’t, just the sad kind that you try to keep to yourself. Surprisingly, Sabo notices, though you don’t realize until he hugs you from behind and mumbles in your ear that he’s glad you’re the only one who knows he has a skincare routine, his silly words diffusing your mood and acting as the exact affirmation you needed. If it’s not enough, though, he’ll happily prove his loyalty to you by challenging Koala to a karate match, though.  

Law:

Dr. Law and Dr. Robin sure do get along well- so well, in fact, you can’t help but wonder if they are better suited to each other than you and him. Even if they didn’t have such good chemistry, it would be impossible not to feel a touch of jealousy toward the archeologist. She’s intelligent, beautiful, fiercely loyal, a member of the Straw Hats, and has an impressive bounty that she earned even before she became a pirate. Needless to say, you find yourself brooding when the Robin brings him a beer and sits down beside him to discuss the immune systems of fishmen, a topic both are rather interested in. Of course, you’re interested in that, too, thus the reason Law realizes something is wrong when you don’t participate in the conversation. He ends up excusing the two of you and taking you to bed, worrying you had too much to drink, the thought you may be jealous never once occurring to him. You end up not saying anything (many thing in your relationship with Law being unspoken) and just sleeping it off, the fact that he excused the two of you proof enough of his loyalty. 

Kid:

He doesn’t ever talk about his first love, Victoria. In fact, you didn’t even know she existed until Killer got drunk one night and began speaking of his dearly departed. What he didn’t mention was that Kid, too, had been in love with her. It only comes up the next night when you mention it to Wire, who mentions it was the death of his first love, Victoria, that put Kid on the war path and united the first four members of the Kid Pirates. Realizing Wire messed up, Heat chimes in to say, “he’d do the same for you.” But you’re not convinced, mainly because Kid never told you any of this. It tears you apart, leaves you tossing and turning for nights on end, until you finally burst into Kid’s workshop one night ranting about how he doesn’t trust you and holds you at arm’s length. “Heat says you’d do the same for me, but-” Kid cuts you off and says, “I wouldn’t do the same, I’d do worse. Much, much worse.” And from the wicked gleam in his eye, you’re inclined to believe him. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[ltleflrt]

Figuring out I'm on the ace spectrum was so difficult because I have always been a horny bitch. I knew what sex was at a fairly young age, because I'd asked my mom and she's one of those good parents who'll answer questions like those, and as I grew older and would ask more complex questions, her answers would evolve along with my curiosity and understanding of the world. And I remember having fantasies as young as 9 or 10 years old, even if they were hella vague and nothing close to what sex actually is lol

So as I became a teenager, and all my friends' focus turned from playing with dolls to flirting with boys, I automatically thought I was attracted to boys. And I paid more attention to Cute Boys than I did to Cute Girls, because girls were just nice to look at while boys were People To Have Crushes On. Because of heteronormativity. Looking back on it now, I know there were girls I liked to stare at just as intently as boys, although less often because I wasn't trying to pay attention. And I certainly didn't fantasize about girls because I started reading romance novels in 5th grade, so I was fantasizing about male romantic partners because that was the fiction I was consuming. I didn't even realize fantasizing about girls was possible until I was 17, and I had a few "am I a lesbian" internal crises for years because of it.

So when I did start having sex, I had A LOT OF IT with SO MANY different guys, and eventually a couple of women once I started accepting that bisexuality was real. But it was never really fulfilling. Not like my fantasies were. Not like my books were. I was slutty because sex was fun, I was horny, there were plenty of options so I kept searching for that satisfaction I was craving.

Getting married was a relief (even though it turns out I'm aro-spec too lol) because I was tired of hunting, and even if sex with my husband was meh, at least I had someone around to scratch that itch if I had it, and he didn't mind if I occasionally took care of things on my own because I'd read an especially hot scene in a romance.

I learned about asexuality in my early 20s, but I brushed it off. Couldn't be me, I'm far too horny for that. But I think that comes from the fact that everything you hear about Aces is attached to sex-repulsion or sex-indifference. I wasn't either of those things. I was horny all the dang time. I was fantasizing about sex all the dang time. I figured actual sex was meh because my imagination was so vivid that real life could never match up. Which could be true to an extent, but I think not as much as popular opinion would have us believe. If fantasy was really that much better for everyone, then I think we'd have less incels and unplanned pregnancies than we do.

In my 30s I finally saw people talking about The Spectrum, and I started examining my past, and I figured out I wasn't really attracted to anyone I had sex with. I do occasionally find someone attractive; there are men and women and enbies who make my skin feel tight and give me a little wave of lightheadedness lol... but it's always always the fantasy that gets me really going. If given the opportunity I wouldn't have sex with any of those people. Thank you, but no thank you, I'd rather just imagine it than physically participate in the act with them.

(Ok I might go down on them, but that's less about wanting sex, and more about being able to add them to my Tally. Hell yeah I want to brag about making *insert hot person* have an orgasm. There's PRIDE in that kind of accomplishment lol)

I have a lot of respect for aces that are not horny. I understand it even if I don't share the sentiment. And I feel like most of them understand me even if they don't share the sentiment. There's a solidarity between us.

Until I go into a fandom tag for a character that the aces have glommed onto because they're canonically ace or headcanoned as ace. Good lord, the non-horny aces can turn into downright vicious bastards if a horny ace sexualizes their blorbo.

This post is for them.

Horny aces exist. Please look up "autochorissexual, lithosexual, and aegosexual."

Refer to those definitions in regards to romantic attraction as well as sexual attraction.

Some aces may not fall into one of those definitions, because asexuality is a spectrum, but they may still be horny.

Horny aces are not disrespecting you by enjoying being horny on main. We promise we'll wash the stickiness off our hands before we hold your hands in queer solidarity.

And most importantly: Your blorbo is fictional and does not need to be defended from icky sexuality. They exist in an infinite multiverse, so your blorbo and my blorbo are not the same, even if they appear to be on the surface.

AND:

This post is also for the people who are confused about themselves because they're horny but don't actually feel attraction. You're not crazy, you're not wishy washy, you're not "waiting for the right person to come along" (unless you are, in which case I hope you find them). You're just a thin strip of color on a massive rainbow that holds more unique shades than anyone can perceive at a glance.

You're valid. You're one of us too.

And don't be mean to the non-horny aces. Tag your smut so they can avoid it. (But actually so I can find it lol)

[velarisdusk]

Unveiled Pleasures

Day 4: Virgin | Rhysand x Reader word count: 4.3k author’s note: this was not a kink i thought i had but during planning, the thought of rhys getting a dark look in his eyes, losing himself and going feral when he finds out…… yum :) ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

A blizzard rages outside, snow swirling in the darkness. It’s been relentless; for two days, its winds clawed at windows and howled through the night. Snow accumulates in thick drifts outside, burying Velaris in a frosty silence. Inside the townhouse, the warmth of the fireplace provides a cozy, safe haven.

You and Rhysand are curled up together on the couch, wrapped in a heavy blanket. The house is quiet; Amren is back at her apartment, Cassian is in Illyria (Gods help him, you can’t imagine the storm there), Azriel’s away on reconnaissance, and Mor winnowed to the cabin last night, claiming she needed some “alone time.” But you had a feeling she just wanted to leave the two of you here, together. 

You’ve known each other for centuries, since you were all young and reckless, before the world became complicated. Over the years, you’ve become more than friends — you’ve become constant in each other’s lives, someone to rely on through war, heartbreak, and everything in between. For a while, there was something between you — something unspoken but undeniably there. The way his hands lingered when he touched you, or how you’d catch him looking at you a little too long.

But whatever it was, it never grew beyond that. Time passed, and eventually, it seemed like he’d moved on. You told yourself you had, too. You never let it become a big deal, never let it interfere with the easy friendship you shared. It was just… there, hovering in the background, a feeling you’d long since learned to live with. And now was no different, chatting and playing card games on the couch, sharing a blanket by the fireplace. You would’ve thought it cliche if not for the fact that you’d been in this exact scenario more times than you could count — and nothing had happened.

Nothing will happen. 

“Place feels off,” you muse absently, shuffling the two cards in your hand as you consider your next move.

Rhysand chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Off how? Too quiet without Cass?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Well, yeah, that… but also just calmer.” You glance up at him, noticing the way the firelight casts soft shadows across his face. “We’re usually out doing something or surrounded by other people. Just not used to this much quiet, I guess.”

He nods thoughtfully, drawing a card from the deck and placing it face up next to the 10 of clubs. Ace of hearts. “That’s true,” he agrees, glancing at the cards on the blanket. “But it’s a nice change of pace, don’t you think? A well-deserved one.”

You eye your own cards — 10 of spades and ace of clubs — two pair. You toss two peppermints into the makeshift betting pool. “Raise. It’s definitely safer,” you say with a shrug.

Rhys matches your bet, tossing in two more mints. “Safer? From what? Drunk fae trying to chat you up? Or Cassian making an ass of himself with every female in sight?” His brow quirks up as a grin spreads across his face. 

You burst out laughing, the image of Cassian’s failed attempts at flirtation all too vivid. “Both, actually,” you manage between fits of laughter, shaking your head. “That last time at Rita’s… that was something.”

Leaning back against the couch, he shakes his head with a mischievous grin. “Do you remember that awful line Cass used on that poor girl? Something about his sword and–”

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “Oh gods, don’t remind me. He really thought he was being clever.”

Rhys chuckles, rubbing his jaw. “He always thinks he’s clever. Like this—” He suddenly leans toward you, his voice dropping into a ridiculous impression of Cassian’s deep tone. “You ever heard the phrase, ‘bigger the sword, bigger the—'”

You both dissolve into laughter before he can finish, your sides aching from how ridiculous it sounds.

He grins, gaze still playful as he mimics Cassian again, this time reaching out and gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “But then he’d get all serious,” Rhys murmurs, his voice dropping lower, soft and teasing now. “He’d do this… look into her eyes and say, ‘I could spend hours just watching the way you blush, imagining what else I could do to make you look like that.’”

The sudden shift in his tone and the warmth of his hand against your cheek make your breath catch. You freeze, the playful atmosphere suddenly charged. He holds your gaze, the firelight flickering in his violet eyes, and for a moment, it’s hard to remember this is supposed to be a joke. 

You laugh, but it’s quieter now, more nervous. “Cassian really said that?” you ask, but it’s hardly louder than a whisper. 

Rhys doesn’t drop his hand, his thumb absentmindedly brushing your skin as he looks at you. “Well,” he says softly, his smile softer now, uncertain. “Maybe not like that… but, I guess… something like it.” You feel your face grow warm, a quiet tension slipping between you. His eyes search yours, and something unspoken passes between you both — something neither of you can ignore anymore. 

His voice is quieter when he speaks again, as though he’s only just noticing the change himself. “You okay?”

The question feels loaded like there’s more behind it than just casual concern. You nod, but your voice is stuck in your throat. You can’t tear your gaze away from his. He’s still so close. Rhys leans in slightly, his thumb moving to brush along your jawline now, the motion slower, more deliberate than before. His eyes flicker over your features, lingering on your lips for just a second too long. 

You swallow, heart pounding. “Just… surprised.”

“Surprised?” His brow lifts slightly, but his tone is softer, more serious now. “By what?”

By the way his touch sends a ripple of heat through you, by how your heart races under the intensity of his gaze. You don’t say that though. Instead, you let out a shaky laugh, trying to play it off. “That you’re taking this Cass impression so seriously.”

Rhys huffs a quiet laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His fingers pause for a second, lingering on your neck. He doesn’t move away. “I’m not, really… just… You’re looking at me differently,” he says softly, almost like he’s noticing it for the first time. The room feels suddenly smaller, the crackling fire and storm outside fading into the background. 

You hold his gaze, your heart pounding. There’s a question in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel the pull between you growing stronger. You’re both so close now, the warmth of his skin against yours more pronounced. 

Without breaking eye contact, Rhys’ hand gently slides down to rest at the back of your neck, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze drops to your lips, and for a moment, time seems to stretch.

He leans in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. His lips brush against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s a slow exploration, a testing of the waters. When you don’t move away, his kiss deepens, his lips melding with yours as the warmth between you ignites into something more intense. 

As the kiss between you and Rhysand grows more heated, the heat becomes almost unbearable. Clothes are shed in a frenzy of passion, and you find yourself in your undergarments, sinking to your knees on the plush carpet before him. The firelight flickers across the room, casting a warm glow that dances over both of you. You start to reach for the waistband of his boxer briefs, but suddenly, uncertainty creeps in. Your hands falter, and you pull back just enough to look up at him, a mixture of nervousness and determination in your eyes.

“I’m not really sure what to do,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s my first time.”

Rhysand’s eyes widen, his expression shifting from surprise to an intense, almost reverent focus. He takes a moment to process your confession, clearly stunned.

He speaks softly, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “After all these centuries, you’re still–”

He pauses, searching for the right words. “You’re still a virgin?” His gaze sharpens, the intensity of his stare turning into something more primal. 

When your only response is a nod, a slow, hungry smile spreads across his lips. “Gods, that’s incredible,” he breathes, his voice low and tinged with a dark thrill. Leaning in, his breath warms your ear. “You have no idea how much that turns me on. The thought of being the first one to touch you like this…” His hand slides over your head, fingers threading through your hair with a possessive caress. “The first to make you feel things you’ve never…” He inhales deeply, his nose brushing against your neck, “–felt before…”

Rhysand pulls back slightly, his hand gently gripping your chin, and he tilts your face up to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this… Guiding you through it, showing you everything…” His eyes flash with a mix of hunger and satisfaction. He traces his thumb over your lips, his touch charged. 

“Not everything; I’ve read romance novels,” you clarify, shifting your weight back onto your calves.

Rhysand’s lips twitch and he lets out the barest breath of a scoff, shaking his head as if in awe. His eyes flicker with a dark amusement as his hand trails from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fingers toying with your hair. “Romance novels,” he repeats, his tone light, but the glint in his eyes betrays something darker. His thumb brushes your cheek, and his lips curve into a slow, teasing smile. “Well, then… you’re practically an expert, aren’t you?”

You feel the weight of his gaze as you fumble for a response, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “Well, I mean–”

Rhysand cuts you off, his voice edged with raw desire. “I’m going to show you everything you need to know.” His grip on your hair tightens just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours with a possessive intensity. “Just focus on me and let me take control,” he murmurs, his voice low. “If you need anything, you speak up, alright?” The intensity in his gaze makes you feel like you’re melting.

You nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement, and his gaze doesn’t waver. His fingers trail lightly over your collarbone and down to the swell of your chest, his touch a teasing whisper against your skin. With a deep breath, you lean forward, your hands cautiously pulling down his underwear, and Rhysand’s breath hitches slightly as you expose him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand resting lightly on your head, guiding you as you lower yourself, taking him into your mouth.

The room is filled with the soft sounds of your movements and his encouraging murmurs. As you cautiously take him into your mouth, you focus on finding a rhythm, the unfamiliar texture and warmth making your pulse race. Your hands rest lightly on his thighs, feeling the tension in his muscles as you move. Each gentle stroke is executed with trepidation and eagerness, guided by Rhysand’s soft, approving sounds.

Rhysand’s hands gently cradle your head, his grip firm but tender. “Damn,” he groans, his tone laced with surprise. “You’re a natural.” His praise sends a shiver through you, mingling with the heat of your desire. Though he guides you slightly, his touch remains light and encouraging. His voice drops to a low murmur, filled with adoration. “That’s it, just like that,” he urges, his breath hitching as you experiment with different motions. His nails gently graze your scalp, and he lets out a soft, appreciative groan when you press a flat tongue to the underside of his cock. “You feel so good, baby. Just keep going, you’re making me lose my mind.”

Every word from him makes you more determined to continue, your movements growing more confident as his reactions heighten your arousal. “You can take me deeper, I know you can,” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent. “You’re doing so well, you got it,” and his hips start bucking into your mouth. Your own breathing becomes shallow as your throat constricts around him, the new sensation is overwhelming yet intoxicating.

With a low groan of approval, Rhysand suddenly shifts, his hands coming to rest of your shoulders. “Hold on a moment,” he says, helping you up from the floor, and guiding you back onto the couch with him, a dark hungry glint in his eyes. 

A hand reaches under you, deftly unclipping your bra with a single, smooth motion. He moves the other to the waistband of your underwear, and he slides both off of you tantalizingly slowly. He discards them with a casual flick, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable under his intense, appreciative gaze. 

“Go on, let’s get you a bit more comfortable,” he says, adjusting you with deliberate care so you’re sprawled out comfortably across the couch. His gaze smolders with hunger as he moves between your legs, his breath fanning over your inner thigh. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable as he begins to tease, his tongue a tantalizing caress that makes you gasp and shiver. The sounds of his enjoyment mingling with yours create a symphony of shared desire, each touch sending waves of sensation through your body. 

Just as his tongue delves deeper, the sensation blurs your senses, making the room seem to spin and float. The combination of his skilled tongue and the disorienting rush of winnowing overwhelms you with a euphoric intensity. When your vision clears, you find yourself in Rhysand’s bedroom, his tongue still lavishing attention on you. He takes his time to savor every part of you. His movements are masterful, each flick and stroke of his tongue tailored to make you writhe in pleasure. He alternates between gentle, teasing laps, and more focused, firm strokes, finding the rhythm that has you gripping the sheets. 

His hands are relentless, roaming your body, occasionally tracing the curves of your thighs or the sensitive skin of your hips. He clasps your hands tightly, anchoring you as his deep, guttural moans vibrate through you, heightening every sensation and leaving you squirming with need. 

Amidst the physical pleasure, Rhysand begins to invade your mind with a barrage of filthy, electrifying thoughts. His voice, though unspoken, reverberates in your mind like a seductive whisper. “It’s going to feel so good when I fuck you,” he promises. “Picture how good it’s going to feel when I’m buried deep inside you, how you’ll be trembling under me.” The mental imagery is a pleasant surprise — he shows you vivid scenes of him thrusting into you with relentless vigor, making you gasp and shiver. “It’ll feel so much better than your fingers, darling.”

“Can you see it? Feel it?” he sends into your mind, his thoughts a sultry whisper caressing your consciousness. “Feel me pushing into you, filling you completely. Every thrust, every stroke… I want you to feel every inch of me, how your body will mold perfectly around my cock.” The intensity of his words only drove your arousal to a fever pitch, leaving you moaning and writhing with an urgent need. 

His thoughts also weave images of you coming undone, of him making you see the stars with his touch. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t know what to do with yourself. I’ll have you screaming my name, begging for more.” The raw, possessive desire only drives you closer to the edge, each thought and image adding to the pleasure building rapidly within you. “You’re my sweet little virgin now,” his voice growls in your mind. “But not for long. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging for my cock every chance you get. You’ll be a little whore for me won’t you? Needing to be filled again and again.”

When your climax finally crashes over you, it’s intense and all-consuming, leaving you gasping and trembling. Rhysand’s mental presence remains, a constant, darkly, satisfying presence as you ride out your orgasm. 

After you’ve come down from your high, Rhysand pulls back slightly, his gaze dark and hungry. He leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks softly. “See how easy that was? You’re going to be amazing, just like that. “

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, his cock slick and hot against your folds. As he aligns himself, his voice is thick with desire “Feel how hard I am for you? Feel how much I want you? I’m going to fuck you so good, make you feel things you never imagined. You ready for me, sweetheart?” He looks up from where the tip of his cock lines up with your entrance, eyes locking onto yours with a burning intensity.

You meet his gaze, your voice trembling slightly but filled with determination. “I… I want you, Rhysand. I need you.” Your breath hitches as you look up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes matched by a fierce desire. “Please, don’t hold back.”

Rhysand’s smile turns predatory, his eyes alight with satisfaction. He maintains eye contact as he pushes inside, inch by inch, savoring every second of your tight, untried body struggling to accommodate him. “Does it hurt?” his voice drips with mockery and satisfaction when you squeeze your eyes shut. “Does it hurt having this pussy stretched out for the first time?” He watches your reactions intently, delighting in them as your expressions shift from nervous anticipation to surprised pleasure, your brows furrowing with the intensity of it all. 

He cradles the back of your head, tilting it down toward where your bodies are joined. “Look at that,” he breathes, his tone full of wonder. “Look at how you wrap around me. So… fucking tight — it’s like you’re sucking me in.”

The mewl you let out would be embarrassing if not for the overwhelming pleasure and mind-numbing stretch of his cock inside you. “Rhysand, please,” you whisper, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to steady yourself.

“Please, what? What do you want me to do, darling?” his voice is a lazy drawl, as though he has all the time in the world to tease you, to make you beg for more. His hips are still, the need to move evident in the tense muscles beneath your hands, but he holds back, watching you writhe beneath him.

“Please, Rhys, just move,” you whine, your body yearning for more, the slow stretch making you desperate. “Just want you… Want you to move.”

“Move?” He raises a brow at you, feigning confusion. “Move where? Move off of you?” He starts to pull out, slowly, torturously, and for a moment, the sensation feels good — until the realization hits that he’ll leave you empty. Without thinking, you wrap your legs around him, arms clinging to his neck to keep him in place.  

He chuckles darkly, a low, amused sound. “You’ll have to be more specific, I need to hear what you want, or…” He pulls out further, the head of his cock barely inside you now.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “Rhys, fuck me, please.”

The glint in his eyes is dangerous, primal. He leans down, brushing his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He thrusts back into you, slow but deep, filling you completely. “You feel that?” he murmurs against your neck. “You’ve never had anyone touch you like this before, have you? I’m the first… and I’ll be the only one to make you feel this way. Your fingers don’t even reach this deep, huh? You can’t even pleasure yourself the way that I will.” His words are gentle, but the power behind them is undeniable. “So pure, so untouched. You’re mine now. I’m going to make sure no one else gets to fuck you like this.”

The way he speaks, the deliberate pace of his thrusts as he starts to push in and out of you, has you melting beneath him, pleasure and helpless surrender pooling in your belly. Every inch of him fills you perfectly.

“You’ve no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, his thrusts growing harder, deeper. “Look at how you take me, so well. So fucking tight and sweet, like you were made for this,” he growls, his breath puffing against your skin as he thrusts again, deeper this time. “You feel that, darling? That’s me, stretching you open, shaping this pretty pussy so it’ll only ever fit me.”

A gasp tears from your lips, your body overtaken by the sensation of him inside you, deeper than anything you could have imagined. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your legs trembling as you try to keep up with the rhythm he’s setting. “Rhys,” you whimper, your voice soft and breathless. “It’s so… so much.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss, a dance of tongues and lips, exchanging breath ang longing. When he pulls back, his voice is a low rumble. “It’s going to be more, sweetheart. So much more. You can take it though, I know you can.”

You shudder at his words, the physical and mental onslaught of pleasure overwhelming. “Rhys, I–” you gasp, struggling to speak as your mind spins. “I’ve never– fuck! I didn’t know it could feel this good.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he purrs, his pace quickening slightly, making you moan with every deep stroke. “You’ve never been fucked before. You didn’t know what you were missing, did you?”

Your breath catches, your hands fisting in the sheets as his words sink in. The sensation of being filled, stretched, and dominated by him is getting to be too much. “Rhys, please,” you whisper, “please, don’t stop.”

His lips curve into a wicked smile. “I’m not stopping. Not until I’ve ruined you for anyone else.” He thrusts into you harder now, making your body jolt with each sound of skin against skin. “No one else is ever going to fuck you like this. You’ll always want me. You’ll always need me.”

The pleasure building inside you is almost too much, the sensation of his cock slamming in and out of your tight heat. “It feels so good!” you cry out, your pretty noises spurring his desire. “I– I can’t… believe how good it–”

“You like that, don’t you?” he growls, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You like the way I stretch you out. The way your body squeezes me like it’s never going to let go.” He moves faster, his thrusts becoming rougher, more demanding. “Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how much you love it.”

Your head is spinning, your body trembling as the pleasure builds. “I love it,” you gasp, your voice high and breathless. “I love the way you feel inside me, Rhysand.”

His eyes harden, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “That’s right. You love being fucked by me, don’t you? You love the way I make you feel, the way I take your virgin cunt.” His hand slides down your body, gripping your hip to keep his unrelenting pace. “And I’m going to keep fucking you until you’re screaming my name, until you can’t think of anything else but how good my cock feels inside you. So innocent… But not anymore, darling, you’re going to want this every single time you see me.”

Your muscles shake as you respond wantonly. “I want more, I want you to fuck me harder.” Rhysand groans, flipping you over without pulling you off his cock. His hands grip your hips as he pulls you closer, his cock slamming into you with renewed force.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he growls, his voice rough with lust. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for. But I’ll give it to you, if that’s what you want?” He glances at you for confirmation, though he already knows what he’ll see.You’ll look back at him with a blissful nod, your eyes heavy and barely open. You cry out as his pace turns punishing, far beyond what you’d imagined during those restless nights spent desperately rubbing your clit to thoughts of him. You can barely catch your breath as he fucks you for all you’re worth. 

“That’s it,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as he pulls you up, holding you flush against his chest. His hands wander over you, the swell of your breasts, the soft skin of your neck. “You’re going to come for me again, aren’t you? I can feel it. You’re so close. You’re going to come all over my cock, aren’t you?”

You can’t speak, your voice lost to pleasure. “Rhys, please,” you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge. “I’m so so close.”

He teases your ear lobe between his teeth as he whispers, “Come for me, go on. Show me how good it feels to have your virgin cunt fucked for the first time.”

“Feels so good, feels so–”

With a final thrust, you fall apart, your body convulsing as your orgasm rips through you. Rhysand’s name is a broken moan on your lips as the pleasure floods through you. Rhysand watches you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his pace never slowing. “That’s it,” he coaxes you through it. “That’s my girl. You’re mine now, sweetheart. Only mine.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @90angiex

[loojii]

I love your designs so much! They are so cute!

Can we know more about the other girlies you posted a while ago? I just can't get enough of them! We didn't get to know who is the one with the wheelchair and the others.

But you don't have to draw anything I'm just curious about all of them and who are they supposed to be with as couples because they are so beautiful and cute!!

All of these were sketches I made very quick, none of the designs are "final" (as far as random fan ocs can be final). Other things can change too and most of these come from me and my friend talking way too much about twst lol. From left to right >>

Elisa Trey's high school sweetheart (everything about that man says he has a long distant girlfriend and their relationship is super healthy). Their parents are great friends blablabla. Not that exciting Gwendolynn friend for Jack who has a huge crush on him because she falls for any guy thats nice to her. Super cliché that a girl who's really into cute stuff likes the big bad boy (on first glance). I'm super original. Talking about original; I originally named her Sally but later on realized that Jack Skeletons girls is also named Sally. So maybe change her name later on again idk. Nailah Came from the joke that the only girl that could handle Sebek is a deaf one and then me and my friend thought about it more and it's very adorable come on. Sebek being very intrigued and learning sign language. And she just thinks he's a very handsome normal man who totaly does not shout. His lips are very read-able.

Anna In the game Ace mentions he had a girlfriend he ghosted after like dating for two weeks. I just made a design for that girl. Like to think she's still bitter that her first boyfriend ghosted her like that and made up a rumor he likes feet so no girl in their high school wanted to talk to him. Tomboy tsundere type who tries her best at school and get's angry easily. Jean-Marie named after one of the bells of Notre Dame (eyy). She is pretty weird and developed an obsession with the chapel from the Nobel Bell College and that evolved into an obsession with Rollo. She likes to photograph Rollo the chapel.

Most of these are just fun ideas, don't take them too serious :)

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter five. best friends and naked babies

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pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 1.4k + texts!

warnings ⇢ fatphobia, insecurities, daddy issues, ward cameron 😒

authors note ⇢ genuinely love this series. it’s my current fav tbh. anyway, hope you guys are enjoying! love yall fr <3 EDIT: also forgot to mention that im rewatching love island thanks to @judesgfirl cause of her new series mentioning it lol yall should go read it, im already in love!

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“So are you and Rafe friends now?” It’s Sarah who speaks, making you flinch slightly. Kiara was sprawled on the blonde's bed, legs up and blowing random sounds through her fluttering lips. You had been at her vanity, looking at the expensive makeup she has. All high end.

The original plan was to give you a makeover with said high end makeup but her bed had been too comfortable and the AC felt too nice. Before you knew it, you all were sprawled tiredly around her room and were scrolling through your phones as a soft song played through Sarah’s phone.

“Uhm… sorta?” Is your plain response. This makes her push up on her elbows, staring through you with an intense look. “I mean… yeah, we’re friends… sorta.”

“My brother doesn’t have friends.” She admits freely, leaning back on her bed frame. “He has people he drinks with that later turn into people he fights when he has drinks with them.”

“So I should avoid drinking with him?” You hope the joke lands. It doesn’t. The look on her face is a dead serious one. You sigh loudly. “Look, we’re not friends. He’s helping me.”

“Helping you?” It’s Kiara who speaks up this time, her phone landing on her chest as she looks at you from her awkward upside down angle.

You shrug, feeling that familiar shame bubbling up in your chest. “Yeah, he’s helping me.”

“How so? Context, babe, context.” Sarah’s perked up, no doubt wanting to know more about your friendship with Rafe. Although, you believe you’re much less than whatever a friend is considered.

Trying to avoid the topic, you add, “he’s not my friend. Scar hated it when I told others that we were friends. People knew it. She just hated having it said aloud.”

“And you think Rafe’s going to be the same way?” It’s Kiara who asks this, clearly dumbfounded, now lying on her stomach to watch you from her position.

“Wouldn’t he? He’s popular. He’s hot. People kiss his ass. That’s what Scarlett is.”

Kiara’s about to speak up when Sarah interrupts her. “Wait, is that why you didn’t want to eat lunch with me last week?”

Biting your bottom lip, you nod. Sarah Cameron is a name that everyone knows. That everyone respects. Or that everyone kisses ass to, at least. You and Sarah Cameron at the same table would lead to more ridicule. You’re her friend in secret, not out loud.

“That’s insane,” Sarah sighs. “We’re friends, __. I don’t care who knows it. You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever known at that stupid school.”

“Says no one ever.” You let out an awkward laugh. The compliment makes you feel a sense of pride but you’re not used to it, making you want to crawl into a hole and hide.

“Says me.” Kiara adds. “And JJ. And Pope. And Cleo.”

“And John B.” Sarah jumps back in. “He thinks everyone works for the government but not you.”

This makes you laugh, shaking your head with amusement. The last time you all hung out at the chateau, John B had smoked and was going on and on about the government and its evil doings. You were too high to really pay any attention to his rambles, busy on Pope trying to do a sexy dance for the group.

“So, are you saying that I can go around saying you’re my bestie?” There’s a joking air to your tone as you say this. Her response catches you off guard.

“Yes, you can. Because I’ve been going around saying it. Now I look like a chump. I was parading us while you were denying us.” She dramatically clutches onto her chest and drops herself onto her bed and on Kiara who laughs and tries shoving her off.

Kiara gives up on pushing her off so she looks up at you from her awkward angle. “Look, you’re one of us, remember? Scarlett survivor.”

“Scarlett survivor.” Sarah chimes in and holds her fist out to you. You look up from her fist and up to the bright and hopeful smile on her face. For the first time, a girl is smiling at you and she holds no malice. It’s not a fake smile. It’s not forced. It’s genuine and full of adoration.

Awkwardly, you lift your own hand up, fist out and pounding hers. “Scarlett survivor.”

“Not available. Come back another time.” Rafe’s rougher voice sounds muffled through his side of the door. You bang on it again.

“Let me in!” You sing playfully as you tug and jiggle his door handle. There's a sigh from behind his door before a familiar click is heard.

You’re smiling up at him when he opens the door up, leaning against the doorframe, blocking the view of his room with his bigger frame. “What do you want?” You’re about to frown but you refuse to do it, suddenly worried about how you look after his comment. “Why are you making that face? You look constipated.”

“I’m trying not to frown.” You answer as you bring your hand up to your mouth, covering it shyly.

With a sigh, he pushes up off the doorframe and lets his door open wider. You’re about to take a peek into his room when his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling it off of your face. “I said it was cute.”

“On Flo.” But he doesn’t respond as he pulls you into his room and closes the door behind him.

His room is empty. Void of any personality. Beige and simple. The type of look that your mother decorated the guest rooms which are never used since she refuses family from coming over. Stiff. Uncomfortable.

“Didn’t take you for a beige man.” Are the words that come out of you. Regrettable words but you can’t take them back now.

“I love beige. Beige is my favorite color.” His words are monotonous, watching you as you walk across his room, taking it all in.

You scoff out a small laugh, “beige isn’t a color. That’s a tint.”

“Beige is my favorite tint.” A laugh bubbles out of you at his words. You’re never sure when Rafe’s cracking a joke with you but he’s funny, without trying.

You turn to him from the opposite side of his king size bed. Far too big a bed in your opinion but voicing that doesn’t seem like a great choice at that very moment.

“My room is the same way.” You decide to be open with him. It’s a weird feeling, bearing yourself to someone but Rafe’s never looked at you in the way most men look at you. With a sneer of disgust. “It doesn’t feel like home. There’s no need to decorate a space, or make it yours, if you don’t feel that sense of belonging.”

There’s an intense look on his face that you don’t want to keep being on the receiving end of. Instead of continuing your conversation, you plop down onto his bed and tap on a key of his laptop, igniting it. “We’re watching Love Island. The girls fell asleep halfway.” You’re typing the familiar show onto his screen, clicking the episode you were on.

It takes one pat on the bed by your hand for him to follow suit, laying on his stomach and eyes on the screen. It's quiet between you two as the familiar narrator recaps the last scene. Your shoulders are touching, room dark but lighting your face as you watch intently. You’re engrossed in the episode when he speaks.

“Ward got rid of my stuff.” His voice isn’t soft but it’s not as loud and confident as it usually is. “My first year of college. We fought. The biggest fight we’d ever had. I had taken my essentials. Anything I left behind… he destroyed it. Said I wasn’t allowed back and anything he destroyed was his to begin with.”

There’s a pit in your stomach as he recounts the story. Your heart aches. You’re angry for him. Sad for him. There were rumors, as there is in the Outer Banks, but you never believed it to be true. Yet, there was always something off about their family appearances. You believed your mother to be insane and gossip fueled when she uttered words to you at the Kook events you were forced into. But this settles it for you. Ward Cameron is undeserving of the life he has. And it hits you. Why Rafe wants the championship ring that your step-father has in his office. He wants his fathers recognition. His fathers approval.

The look on his face as he watches the show tells you he doesn’t want to keep talking. Instead, you tangle your arm around his bicep, laying your head gently on his shoulder. The tension in him visibly slips away. You pretend not to notice as you keep watching the dating show in silence.

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[csuzlipofa]

So it was a bet?

Daniela x fem!reader

You were surprised when the popular girl from school started talking to you, but everything makes sense now.

pt.2

Warnings: -

Angst

Daniela Avanzini had always lived for the thrill of a challenge. Whether it was acing her exams, or effortlessly charming her way through any situation, she thrived on the attention and praise that came with being the golden girl of the school. Her closest friends—Sophia, Lara, Manon, Megan, and Yoonchae—were the only ones who truly knew her. Or at least, they thought they did.

It was during one of their usual Friday hangouts at Sophia’s house that the spark of her latest challenge was ignited.

“Alright, Dani,” Megan said with a smirk as she leaned back in her chair, twirling a soda can between her fingers. “You’re always going on about how no one can resist you. Prove it.”

Daniela raised an eyebrow. “Prove what?”

Lara chimed in, flipping through the yearbook on the coffee table. “Make someone fall for you. But not just anyone.”

The room grew quiet as they all leaned in, waiting for the reveal. Megan slid the yearbook across the table, stopping on a page where your quiet photo stared back.

You were a ghost in the halls, keeping to yourself, slipping by unnoticed. You weren’t like the other girls who clung to Daniela’s every word. You were distant, untouchable—a complete mystery.

“Her?” Daniela asked, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah,” Megan said, grinning. “Y/N. Bet you can’t crack that shell.”

“You have to make her fall for you,” Sophia added. “Dates, holding hands, the whole thing. And she can’t know it’s a game.”

Daniela hesitated, her cocky smile faltering for just a moment. Manon noticed and spoke up. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

“I’ll do it,” Daniela said abruptly, her voice confident and unwavering. The thrill of the challenge was too much to resist, and deep down, she told herself it was harmless.

The next Monday, you were sitting at your usual spot in the back of the library. You were tucked away in the far corner, headphones in and sketching in your notebook. You liked the solitude, the quiet escape from the chaos of the school halls.

“Hey,” a voice interrupted.

You glanced up, startled, to see Daniela standing before you. Her brown eyes sparkled with an almost disarming warmth, and her smile could have stopped time.

“Hi,” you said cautiously, pulling out one earbud

“I’ve seen you around,” she said, pulling out a chair without waiting for permission. “What are you doing?” she asked with curiosity.

You hesitated, confused why she was talking to you. “Just sketching.”

“Cool,” she said casually. “I was wondering if you’d want to help me with English sometime. I could really use someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Her words left you stunned. Why would Daniela, the most popular girl in school, need your help? But her smile was so genuine, her presence so magnetic, that you found yourself nodding.

“Sure,” you said softly.

And that was how it began.

The first study session turned into a second, then a third. Daniela started showing up at your locker in the mornings, her charm never faltering. She’d tease you gently about your quiet nature, buy you coffee, and even invite you to sit with her friends at lunch—though you always declined.

For the first time, you felt seen. Her attention was intoxicating, her laughter infectious.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you asked one afternoon as the two of you walked home together.

Daniela shrugged, her smile playful. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re interesting.”

That answer left you both confused and flattered. You couldn’t deny the way your heart skipped when she was near, even if it scared you.

But Daniela wasn’t prepared for the way you’d worm your way into her heart. What started as a bet—a stupid, cruel game—began to feel like something else. She noticed the way your eyes lit up when you talked about things you were passionate about. She noticed how you chewed your lip when you were nervous, how your laugh was soft and genuine.

Her friends noticed the change, too.

“You’re getting too attached,” Lara warned one day during lunch.

“I’m fine,” Daniela snapped, though her stomach twisted.

“You’re falling for her, aren’t you?” Yoonchae asked softly.

Daniela didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to.

Everything fell apart one rainy afternoon.

You’d left your jacket behind in the cafeteria, and when you went back to retrieve it, you overheard voices.

“She’s totally in love with you now,” Megan said, laughing. “You’ve got this in the bag, Dani.”

“Yeah,” Lara added. “The quiet ones always fall the hardest.”

You froze, your heart pounding.

Daniela’s voice was quieter. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

“So what? It’s fun watching this whole thing.” Megan said with a laugh.

Daniela stayed quiet.

You couldn’t listen anymore. Grabbing your jacket, you bolted from the cafeteria, they noticed you, the sound of their laughter echoing in your ears as you left.

Daniela found you the next day, sitting alone in the empty art room. Your shoulders were hunched, and you wouldn’t look at her when she walked in.

“Y/N,” she said softly.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Please,” she begged, stepping closer. “Let me explain.”

“What’s there to explain?” you snapped, finally looking up. Tears brimmed in your eyes, and your voice was sharp with pain. “It was a bet. A joke. I was just some game to you.”

“It started that way,” Daniela admitted, her voice cracking. “But it’s not anymore. I swear, it’s not.”

“How can I believe you?” you demanded, standing up. “How can I trust anything you say?”

“Because I’ve changed,” she said desperately. “You changed me. I don’t care about the bet, or what anyone thinks. I just care about you.”

You shook your head, stepping back. “I can’t do this, Daniela. I can’t be your charity case or your guilt trip.”

“It’s not like that—”

“Then what is it?” you shouted, tears streaming down your face. “What am I to you?”

Daniela was silent, guilt began to eat her up.

“That’s what I thought,” you said bitterly before walking away, leaving her standing there alone.

The weeks that followed were agonizing for both of you. Daniela tried reaching out, but you ignored her calls and texts. At school, you avoided her gaze, even as she watched you with a pain she couldn’t hide.

She had broken something precious, and no amount of apologies could fix it.

And for you, trusting someone again felt impossible. The quiet that you once cherished now felt suffocating, filled with the echoes of what could have been.