#like it’s one thing to sit in silence with other people but to just be completely alone gives me such a sinking feeling

[rafecameronssl4t]

Chosen p.t 2 || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader love island au

Summary: read part one here

Warnings: angst

Word count: 1,173

A/n: help i forgot i had this in my queue LOL mb!!!

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

You laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, Rafe’s absence a hollow ache beside you. You’d grown used to the warmth of his arm around you, the gentle rise and fall of his chest that lulled you to sleep each night. Without him, the bed felt colder, lonelier, and you couldn’t shake the memory of Kayla’s confident words as she chose him, as if she held a secret you didn’t.

Leah rubbed your arm in comfort, her eyes softening. “Yeah, must be tough after last night. The whole situation was shit. I don’t know what Kayla was thinking.” You managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Neither do I, honestly. Rafe said there was nothing to worry about, but then she just… picked him. It just doesn’t make sense.”

You caught Sofia’s gaze, and she gave you a small, reassuring nod. “Maybe it’s not as deep as it seems,” she offered. “Maybe she just picked him because he looks good on paper—he’s confident, attractive, all that. She probably just wanted attention.” You nodded, trying to take comfort in her words, but the unease still simmered.

You nodded, trying to find comfort in her words, but the uncertainty still twisted inside you. Rafe had reassured you last night, had looked you in the eyes and held your hand with that steady, familiar touch that always made you feel seen. But now, with the memory of Kayla confidently choosing him and the doubt simmering beneath, it was harder to trust that feeling.

Leah’s voice broke the silence, softer now. “Have you talked to him about it?” You sighed, closing your eyes briefly as if that might ease the knot in your chest. “He tried last night. But I… I couldn’t. I was too hurt, too angry. I didn’t even know if I could believe him.”

Sofia’s hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think he’s probably feeling the same, People make decisions that don’t always make sense because they’re worried about what everyone thinks.” You leaned your head back, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to steady your breathing.

Maybe they were right—maybe it was all just the game getting in your head, Kayla’s pick a calculated move, an attempt to create drama or stir things up. But the memory of Rafe looking away as Sophie announced your single status felt too raw to ignore.

~

Later that morning, as you sat in the makeup room, humming softly to yourself as you applied your skincare, a knock sounded at the door. The other girls exchanged glances, then called out, “Yeah, we’re dressed!” The door creaked open, and Rafe peeked in, his gaze instantly landing on you. He lingered in the doorway, holding a tray with coffee and breakfast.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his expression somewhere between hopeful and tentative. “Brought you breakfast.“ You blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. “Thanks,” you replied softly, surprised at how sincere he looked, how he seemed to truly want to make up for the night before. He set the tray down beside you and took a step back, as if unsure whether he should stay.

“Could we… talk?” he asked, his gaze flickering to the other girls, who quickly exchanged sympathetic glances. Leah gave you a small nod, then ushered everyone else out with a quiet, “Alright, let’s go, girls.” You sent her a grateful look as they slipped out, leaving you alone with Rafe.“Can I sit?” he asked, watching you closely, his eyes searching for any sign of welcome.

You nodded, and he pulled up a chair, watching you as you took a sip of coffee. It was exactly how you liked it, and that little detail twisted something in your chest. Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence thick with unspoken words. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to meet your eyes.

“I need you to believe me,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I swear, I didn’t think she’d actually pick me. I thought I’d made it clear I wasn’t interested.” You looked away, biting down on the emotions that threatened to spill over. “Rafe, you don’t understand. You were there, comforting me, telling me everything was fine… and then she chose you. It felt like a slap in the face.”

He nodded, his expression pained. “I know. And I’m so sorry. I tried to make it clear to her, but I should’ve done more. I shouldn’t have let her think there was even a chance. I just… I don’t want to lose you over this.” For the first time, his words began to chip away at your hurt. His eyes held that raw sincerity, the vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see.

And as much as you wanted to cling to the anger, to shield yourself from the fear of being hurt again, a part of you knew he was being honest. You bit your lip, studying his face as he spoke, trying to gauge his sincerity. He looked back at you, a hint of desperation in his gaze that you couldn’t ignore. “You have to believe me,” he continued, voice almost a whisper. “I don’t want anyone else. It’s just you.”

Your shoulders relaxed, the anger ebbing slightly, though the doubt was still there. “Okay, Rafe,” you said finally, your tone soft but uncertain. “But actions speak louder than words. If you really mean it, you’ll have to prove it.” He nodded earnestly, relief flickering in his eyes as he reached for your hand.

“I will,” he promised. “I’ll prove it every single day if I have to. Just… give me a chance.” You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, then smiled—a genuine, soft smile that reminded you of all the moments that had made you fall for him in the first place. “Finish your breakfast,” he murmured, nodding toward the tray. “I’ll be right here.”

[theminecraftbee]

Cleo sits next to Scott, her head in her hands, and says—

—“I really thought it’d be different this time.” BigB sighs. He kicks his foot. Ren is, at least, a sympathetic ear. He understands these things, or at least he understands that it’s hard to be alone. “I mean, I know you don’t trust those guys…”

“I don’t,” agrees Ren.

“But they reached out, man. And I thought, well,”—

—“I could always bury the hatchet, you know?” Cleo says. “It’s been what, how many games? How many years? And I can recognize when I’m as much of the problem as someone else.”

“You had a reason to be a problem. I love that you’re a problem,” Scott says supportively. Pearl snorts in the corner.

“I’m good at being a problem!” Cleo says

“I know, you are,” Scott agrees.

“But it’s like—I don’t know. Maybe I was ready to be done being angry! Maybe I…”—

—“…just wanted a change.”

BigB is quiet. He lets the thought sit in the air. Ren, normally a man determined to fill silences, at least understands the value of a dramatic pause; he doesn’t say anything yet.

Martyn, however, has grown a bit more impatient over the sessions. "What kind of change? You two have been weird about each other for years."

BigB is quiet a moment more. "Did you know that—Ren, did you know that you were the first and last person to show me trust?"

"Uh, thank you, dude," Ren says.

"But like, the thing is, people, they stabbed us then, man. And it's just..."—

—"...he didn't have to! That's what gets me! He could have like... said anything to me? I don't ask much! I offered him my hand! I said, sure man. I'm gonna forgive you, just this once. We can try again. And he just—he tried to kill you! Why?"

"I mean, Scott is one of the people with the most lives," Impulse says reasonably. "And he didn't betray you."

"That's not how teams work, Impulse," Cleo says. "You can't just get rid of the teammate you don't like. The team is only as strong..."—

—"...as weak as it's component parts."

Ren and Martyn stare.

"Jesus, BigB," Martyn says.

BigB looks away. "Yeah, um, well. I don't think that's that stupid. It's not about you two, really. And this is a death game, right? I didn't attack her. It's just... I wasn't going to, really. I wasn't..."—

—"...he was going to, that's the thing. He's always going to do... this!"

"Maybe that's what you get for reaching out to a traitor," Scott says lightly.

Impulse looks away. Pearl snorts again. Cleo sighs.

"Look, I have a long memory, but if I let that decide everything I do forever it would eat me. And people have their reasons. Impulse, look Scott in the eyes, he's not even the reason you have that reputation. Pearl, you're a part of the team. That's the thing. People can change. People..."—

—"...can't change, really." BigB shrugs. "She should know better by now."

"Uh, dude, should we know better?" Ren asks.

"Nah. I mean, Martyn's worse than I am," BigB says cheerfully.

"Martyn," Ren says, sounding vaguely disappointed. Martyn crosses his arms.

"What? You're the one who said I had evil in me. If you take in a snake, you can't be mad if it bites you. If you take in a scorpion..."—

—"...you can hope it learns not to sting you. I don't know. Maybe it's just in his nature."

Pearl makes a strange noise. "And what's in my nature?"

Cleo sighs. She steps over and throws an arm around Pearl's shoulder.

"As long as you don't bite me? I'm willing to learn." Pearl leans into Cleo's arm slightly. Cleo can't help but wonder, some days, how much of the way she flinches back again is her fault. BigB isn't the only one that Cleo hopes can change his nature. Otherwise...

"I'm not actually a traitor, despite what everyone claims," Impulse says, apropos of nothing.

"You know, you should pick better friends," Scott says.

"Nah," Cleo says. She doesn't elaborate. She just—

—breathes. BigB just breathes.

"It was never going to work, anyway," he says.

"Sometimes I wonder if everyone broke while I wasn't looking," Ren says quietly, sadly. BigB has no answer for that.

[p0orbaby]

It’s Called Free Fall

summary: therapy makes you realise a lot of things

warnings: none

a/n: there’s not actually any alexia in this, but she is mentioned

word count: 2.7k

-

The therapist’s office feels like it’s been curated for someone far more refined than you—someone who actually takes their therapy seriously, rather than as an ironic lifestyle choice. The walls are a pale, flat grey that veers perilously close to lifeless, and there’s this overwhelming sense of emptiness, like everything here exists for display rather than use. The chairs, two narrow-backed leather things angled just slightly towards each other, appear less like furniture and more like sculptures. You imagine some recent graduate from a New York art school positioned them just so, meticulously arranging each one to make sure it induced the precise mix of discomfort and luxury.

The table between you and Dr. Vargas is another matter entirely—a sleek slab of polished mahogany, thick enough that you could lean your entire weight on it without even a squeak of protest. Its surface is bare except for a single leather-bound notebook, a fountain pen and a ceramic dish, all aligned to a degree that feels almost militaristic. There’s not a single loose thread in the rug, not a fingerprint on the glass of the one window facing out onto a garden view that’s suspiciously verdant for the middle of winter.

Even the fern, perched in the corner like it’s waiting for its close-up, seems too green, too lush. It’s ridiculous, but it’s all part of the aesthetic, this carefully curated minimalism, the kind of cultivated restraint that says, “We don’t need embellishments. We’re here for the truth.” You’re here, supposedly, for honesty and revelation. But to you, it all feels a bit too staged, like a hotel that boasts a “homely charm” but is actually cold and sterile beneath the surface. You suspect Dr. Vargas might even mist the plant herself in some sacred ritual of maintenance, a sort of last-minute grounding exercise to fill the silence between clients.

You settle back in the chair, draping one leg over the other, and make a mental note to mention it next time you’re in some magazine interview. “Austere,” you’d say, “but in a chic way. I once caught my therapist hand-polishing the leaves of a houseplant.” You let yourself savour the image for a moment, glancing at the fern, which seems to return your gaze with silent judgement.

Dr. Vargas has her pen poised in that infuriatingly neutral way, a half-smile that somehow manages to be both welcoming and utterly unreadable. She’s mastered this look; the expression that says, I’m here for you while also suggesting she’s already a step ahead, already written your entire profile out in her head, neatly categorised into sub-headings like “Avoidant Tendencies” and “Control Issues.”

You begin with a sigh, throwing a glance at the ceiling in mock contemplation. “I’ve been thinking about another place. A chalet, maybe. Something in the mountains this time.” You pause, letting the idea sit, feigning like it’s just occurred to you. “Somewhere remote, where people can’t just… get to me”

You’re fully aware that she sees right through it. This isn’t her first rodeo; you’re sure she’s dealt with hundreds like you before, masters of diversion who fill sessions with banalities rather than facing anything real. But Dr. Vargas, in all her maddening professionalism, gives nothing away. She just tilts her head, the soft scratch of her pen against her notebook barely there as she writes something down.

“A place to escape,” she offers back to you in that maddeningly placid tone.

“Yes. Escape,” you echo, knowing full well the word holds no weight here. Escape from what, exactly? You let your leg bounce a little, as if the rhythm might lend some gravity to your words. “And there’s this new project I’m in talks with—A24, actually. They want me to do something�� serious. A proper rebrand. Gritty. Artistic.” You drawl out “artistic” with the faintest of smirks, like you’re amused at the thought of it all. A lifetime of playing these games, and you’re practically a pro by now.

Dr. Vargas’s face betrays not a flicker of interest or amusement. She simply nods, that little encouraging tilt of her head again, like she’s waiting for you to get to the real point, the heart of the matter. But you’re not giving in so easily.

“It could be big, you know,” you continue, lifting your chin a fraction. “And I’ve got Alexia, of course.” The name slips out, deliberately nonchalant, though you feel its weight instantly, like it’s left a mark on the air between you.

Dr. Vargas raises her eyebrows, ever so slightly. “Alexia,” she repeats, not quite a question, not quite a statement. Just… acknowledgment, and yet it still feels as if she’s plucked something out of you without you realising. You don’t like it, the way she turns your own words against you.

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging. “She’s… brilliant. On the field, off it. You know, she’s—” You trail off, allowing a smirk to play on your lips. “Not bad to look at, either”

She gives no reaction, doesn’t even break eye contact. You imagine her poker face would rival that of any seasoned card shark. But it’s her silence that presses at you, coaxing out more than you intend to reveal. It’s a trick she’s used before, and yet here you are, willingly falling into it.

“Honestly,” you continue, almost laughing as if sharing some private joke, “you should see her after a match. There’s this… intensity, this rawness. Shirt off, sweat-drenched, eyes still blazing from the game. It’s… invigorating.” You roll the word around like a fine wine, savouring it as you go. “It’s like the universe threw me a bone, just when I was getting bored”

Dr. Vargas finally moves, a slight shift of her head, her mouth curving up in a near-smile. “And yet, you’re here”

Her words drop between you like a carefully placed stone. You scoff, rolling your eyes, but there’s something in her expression—an almost imperceptible softness that somehow feels like an accusation. “Therapy’s a hobby,” you shrug, leaning back, as if the very idea of anything deeper is laughable. “I’m always in therapy, Doc. News flash”

“Yes,” she agrees smoothly, not missing a beat, “but you don’t usually bring her up”

“Come on,” you counter, with a smirk that’s designed to look careless, “I bring her up all the time”

“Not like this”

Her voice is calm, almost gentle, but her gaze sharpens, pinning you in place. You feel a spike of irritation, or maybe it’s something else. You cast a look towards the fern, now faintly silhouetted by the afternoon sun, its shadow long and narrow across the wall, an unasked-for third party in this strange little dance. The absurdity of the whole scene hits you, but before you can fully detach, she’s speaking again.

“You’re talking about her differently. More… openly.” There’s no edge to her tone, no overt judgment, yet it feels like she’s peeled back a layer, glimpsed a part of you you hadn’t meant to reveal.

In the moments that follow, you stub out your cigarette on the pristine ceramic dish Vargas keeps on the table, the one she’s claimed is “not for smoking” but never actually moved after that one session. You’ve taken it as tacit permission, though you know damn well it irritates her—just another way to test the boundaries in a room that prides itself on having none. That’s half the point of these sessions: see how far you can stretch them. How much she’ll let you say, or not say. And you’ve mastered the art of saying absolutely nothing, all while filling the space with empty words.

Dr. Vargas doesn’t speak, doesn’t press, which is almost worse than if she did. There’s just the persistent softness in her eyes, the quiet implication that she understands more than you’d prefer. You remember Alexia’s eyes looking at you like that once, right after you’d tried to make some grand point about the nature of relationships—one of those pseudo-philosophical tangents you like to go on. She’d just looked at you, with a kind of bemused patience that felt a little too genuine, a little too close to knowing you.

You roll your shoulders, shake off the memory. But it clings.

“Alright,” you say, letting the smoke spill out as you form the words. “Maybe I don’t do ‘love’ like everyone else. I’m not here for a candlelit dinner and a mortgage. I’m not,” you add with a quick laugh, “one of those people who turn into some sap over a nice couple’s holiday in Santorini”

Dr. Vargas gives a small nod, an acknowledgement rather than agreement, her expression neutral but open, giving you room to continue.

“But, yes. Fine.” You take another drag, a deliberate pause. “Maybe I… care about her. I care about her. She’s different, alright?”

“Different how?” she asks gently, with an infuriatingly patient tone.

You groan, shifting in your seat. “Come on, don’t make me quantify it. That’s your thing, not mine.” You know you’re stalling, using your usual deflections, but there’s an itch underneath it, a part of you that feels raw just acknowledging that Alexia is, in fact, ‘different.’

You can feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to take the bait you’ve laid out for yourself.

“Fine, you want specifics?” you sigh, feigning annoyance, though you know you’re the one who’s led the conversation here. “She… laughs at my worst jokes. Like, really laughs. Not in a polite way, but genuinely, like she thinks I’m the funniest person alive, even when I’m barely trying. It’s stupid, really, but it gets me”

“And how does that make you feel?” Vargas leans forward, like she’s zeroing in on something significant.

You chuckle, low and dismissive, waving the question off with your cigarette. “How do you think it makes me feel? It’s… fine. Nice. A bit strange, maybe. I’m not used to being seen like that.” You pause, the weight of that admission lingering in the air between you.

She doesn’t react, doesn’t push; she just lets the moment settle, knowing there’s more.

You sigh, smoke curling up around you, as your mind goes back to other little things—the way she has this weird ritual of picking all the green M&Ms out of the bag and tossing them to you, claiming they’re “bad luck.” How she insists on reading the morning news out loud, in that silly, exaggerated announcer voice, just to make you laugh while you pretend to read emails. Or how she makes you tea at exactly the right temperature, handing you the mug with a grin like she’s just given you a priceless gift. These are things that, on the surface, should be forgettable, the kind of mundane moments that fade. But they don’t, do they? Not with her.

Dr. Vargas’s voice interrupts your reverie, soft but insistent. “You’re smiling”

You realise she’s right; you’re smiling without even meaning to, and it’s a small, stupid smile, the kind that feels too open. You try to erase it, but it’s too late. The vulnerability’s already there, a quiet confession written across your face.

You roll your eyes, more at yourself than at her. “Alright, so what? So she’s… alright, she’s fun. She’s got that energy, you know, that lightness. It’s kind of… refreshing”

The words slip out unbidden, and you feel a pang of something resembling regret. Refreshing. A word that implies something else by omission—that most of your life, most people you’ve known, have been exhausting. The irony isn’t lost on you: someone so completely different from your own brand of detached sarcasm, from your carefully cultivated ennui, has managed to slip under the radar and wedge herself into your carefully controlled life.

Dr. Vargas watches, her silence pressing you forward.

“Look, I don’t think about it too much,” you say, trying to inject a casual note into your tone. “I don’t need to psychoanalyse every smile, every inside joke. I’m not here to have my relationship broken down into neat little psych terms”

“Maybe you should think about it,” Vargas says gently. “Maybe that’s why you’re here”

You scoff, but there’s a softness in the sound, a hint of resignation. Because she’s right, isn’t she? You came here because, as much as you don’t want to admit it, this thing with Alexia has started to matter, in a way that’s both terrifying and strangely compelling. You’ve always prided yourself on staying a step removed, on being a spectator in your own life, observing rather than fully engaging. But with her, you’re finding it harder to keep that distance.

“Fine,” you mutter, leaning back, letting your head rest against the chair, staring up at the ceiling as though the answers might be written there. “Maybe she’s… special”

The words feel strange in your mouth, too vulnerable, too open. You don’t say “special” often, especially not in this context. But there it is, a reluctant admission.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m in love with her,” you continue, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “She’s great—don’t get me wrong. She’s amazing in bed. I can’t remember the last time someone made me cum so much. And she’s got this thing about her, you know? Like this fire, this intensity. It’s like when she looks at me, she’s looking right through me. And yeah, I guess that’s… intoxicating. But that’s all it is. Right?”

Dr. Vargas nods, a small, subtle gesture. “Why does that scare you?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you watch the smoke dancing away from your cigarette, dissipating into the air, leaving nothing behind but a faint, lingering scent. You think about what it is you’re so afraid of—because there’s something there, something you can’t quite name, a sense that if you let this thing with Alexia continue, it might change you in ways you’re not ready for.

“Because I don’t do… attachment,” you say finally, the words coming out sharper than intended. “I’ve built a life that doesn’t depend on anyone else. And she’s… she’s a complication”

You can feel Vargas watching you, sensing the weight of what you’re not saying, the unspoken truth that this isn’t just about Alexia, that it’s about something deeper, a fear of vulnerability, of losing control. She doesn’t push, though; she just waits, letting the silence do the work for her.

After a long pause, you take a breath, letting your gaze drift to the fern by the window, its leaves glossy and perfect, so meticulously maintained it almost looks fake. You wonder if it’s ever felt the strain of trying to keep everything together, to present a flawless exterior while something more fragile lurks beneath the surface.

“You know,” you say, almost to yourself, “it’s funny. For the longest time, I thought love was just a distraction, a temporary fix for people who couldn’t handle being alone.” You take another drag from your cigarette, exhaling slowly. “But with her, it’s… it’s different. It’s like she makes everything brighter, sharper, like she’s tuned into some frequency I didn’t know existed”

Dr. Vargas doesn’t respond, just nods, letting you continue.

“And the worst part?” You chuckle, a self-deprecating sound. “The worst part is that she’s getting to me. She’s in my head, even when she’s not there. I find myself thinking about her in the middle of the day, wondering what she’s up to, if she’s thinking about me too”

There’s a fragility in the admission, a crack in the armour you’ve built around yourself. And it terrifies you, this sense of letting someone in, of letting them get close enough to matter.

You stub out your cigarette, watching the last curl of smoke dissipate into the air. It feels like a metaphor for something, though you’re not sure what.

Dr. Vargas gives you a small, knowing smile. “Maybe falling in love isn’t as bad as you think it will be,” she says gently.

You shrug, trying to play it off, but there’s a part of you that knows she’s right. Because for all your detachment, all your carefully cultivated distance, there’s something about Alexia that feels like home, like she’s a part of you you didn’t realise was missing.

“Maybe,” you say, the words soft, barely audible.

Love. The word lingers like an uninvited guest. You try to dismiss it, try to laugh it off, but it keeps creeping back in.

[retroaria]

hiiii >.< i saw ur event and RAN to make a request... could i request the dialogue “I do love you, you know…even if i’m shit at showing it.” with rinnie (i wouldve chosen him even if u didnt ask for it because it fits him SO well and i love him dearly) with a fem reader?? i hope i understood everything right and thank u in advance!!!!! take care (⁠ ⁠/⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠)⁠/⁠♪⁠♪

yaaaay rin brainrot!!! thank you sm for requesting!! :)

⋆.˚⟡ Rin Itoshi x fem!reader ⋆.˚⟡

a/n: so many people requested this one! this is very soft and fluffy, i hope you all enjoy :)

˗ˏˋ written for aria’s 1.5k follower event! ˎˊ˗

“Do I remind him? I feel like I shouldn’t have to but I also feel like he just isn’t the type to care about superficial things so maybe I should just-” you were cut off by a rather striking groan on the other end of the line.

“For the love of god, just tell him! He probably doesn’t even know it’s something you’d get so worked up about.” your best friend protested to you over the phone. “What’s the worst that’ll happen? If he feels bad then good, he should be a better boyfriend. And if he gets mad then RUN!”

“Oh my god you’re so dramatic, neither of those will happen. We’re both off today so I’m not gonna say anything, I just want to enjoy my day with him and not make it a big deal.” you sighed out, trying to be content despite the subtle stab to your heart. “I’ll text you later ok? Byeee!”

As soon as you hung up the phone you found yourself prancing out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, your eyes falling on the subtly slouched figure of your boyfriend standing over the kitchen counter. He was making a smoothie as he does every morning - strawberry, banana, protein powder - average boring Rin activities, unfortunately not appropriate for today’s occasion.

You’ve skillfully avoided much interaction with him since you both got out of bed, and at this moment you realized you aren’t sure if you could enter a normal conversation with him in your frantic state. Instead of blurting out the first thing that came to your mind which was, “TODAY IS KIND OF OUR ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY AND YOU TOTALLY HAVEN’T SAID ANYTHING ABOUT IT SO I FEEL LIKE MAYBE YOU HATE ME!”, you decided to go with something casual, so you say, “Mmm, protein powder”

“What…?” Rin turns around to face you and raises his eyebrow at you, looking more concerned than confused. It quickly dawned upon you that you were in fact not looking or sounding cool, calm and collected right now.

“It uh…looks like a yummy smoothie!” you hoped deep down that your girlish charms could save you from deepening the awkwardness of an awkward situation with the most awkward guy you know. You twirl around on your feet a bit with your hands behind your back, flashing him a warm smile.

“Are you having a stroke?” Rin asks, and he’s being fully serious by the way. Was everything impossible with this guy? You begin to ask yourself how you’ve managed to survive a full year of his cluelessness, but then you remember you should probably respond before he actually thinks you’re having a stroke.

“No Rin I’m not having a stroke I'm just trying to start a conversation, jeez.” you snap at him with an attitude that must’ve come from the punch of him not falling for your attempt at cute girlie gestures. Rin sighs and turns his attention back to the blender. Great, now you’re sitting in the kitchen with him in silence except the blender is obnoxiously loud which somehow makes it all the more awkward. Finally it stops and he pours the smoothie out into two cups, setting one down on the table in front of you as he leans back against the counter with his in hand.

Two cups? He never does that. Is this his way of showing he remembered? Is this one of many sweet little gestures he’ll deliver to you throughout the day before the big anniversary surprise? Your wishful thinking is practically bulldozed as Rin opens his mouth.

“There’s something wrong and you aren’t telling me.” he states, his deadpan expression felt like it was slicing you up into little pieces. Rin knew you well enough to know that you were holding out on him, and he was having a silent little panic attack of his own at the moment.

“Nope! Nothing, what could possibly be wrong?” you said nervously. A part of you knew that you could hide your feelings better than this, but the thought that he might pickup on your feelings and somehow read your mind kept you on your toes.

“Was I supposed to take you somewhere today?” he asks, tilting his head at you slightly.

“Like I said, it’s nothing!” you chuckle, it’s a weird chuckle though, definitely not soothing Rin’s worries at all.

He flashes you an odd look, his eyes are narrowed and he’s pouting slightly, almost like he literally is trying to read your mind. He chugs the rest of his smoothie and makes his way over to you. His expression turns back to his usual plain face and he lifts your chin slightly before placing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m going to the gym ok? I’ll be back in a few hours and then we can hang out, I promise.” he coos at you before grabbing his jacket and heading out the door.

He left before giving you anymore time to embarrass yourself with your incomprehensible ramblings - he’s a smart boy. That sweet moment coupled with the promise of quality time together was almost enough to make you forget whatever grudge you were holding against him. However, it wasn’t enough to fight off how shitty it feels to not have your boyfriend there on your anniversary.

You spent the next two hours frantically preparing yourself for Rin’s return. Rin spent the next two hours not going to the gym and driving around aimlessly because he totally lied about that as an excuse to think of a way to make it up to you. While he was blending his smoothie before, he let his eyes wander to the calendar you had hanging on your fridge door - today’s date was highlighted with little green heart. The pieces clicked in his head rather quickly, and instead of speaking up and saving you from your nervous ramblings, he took the opportunity to think up a surprise.

Rin is awful at surprises, not to mention he also isn’t the most creative guy. He ultimately decided it was pointless for him to think so hard about it when he could just go home and apologize. He swallowed his pride and stopped at a flower shop before making his way back, after all, who better to help him decide how the day should be spent than his partner in crime - you!

By the time you heard the front door of your apartment open you were barely half dressed and still losing your mind a bit. Somehow Rin’s two hour gym session turned into forty five minutes and your anxiety was at an all time high. You threw on the closest pieces of clothing you could find and walked out of your bedroom to see him standing in the hallway with a bouquet of flowers and a rather pouty look on his face.

“Hey…so uh, I saw the calendar before…I know I kind of forgot about our anniversary…and uh…I'm really sorry.” he said as he held the bouquet out towards you. His hand rubbed the back of his neck as he avoided your gaze. You took the flowers from his hands and let out a sigh of relief.

“I was so worried all morning you wouldn’t remember.” you said as you smelled the flowers with a content smile on your face.

“I was so worried you were going to kill me for forgetting.” Rin looked down at you, his pout still lingering as he relaxed a bit, seeing you weren’t so upset with him. “This is just the first year you know, I’ll have like fifty more chances to remember after this.” he chuckled.

“You think we’ll be together for that long?” your eyes widened and you beamed up at him.

“probably.” he said slyly, taking the bouquet from your hands and setting it on the table. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against him, his hands moving up to cup your face softly. “I do love you, you know…even if I'm shit at showing it.”

“I know, I love you too.” you cooed at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tender kiss.

dividers by: @toastray

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part8. a complete silence rule

MINORS DNI!

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you and Vi came to library for studying, but she can`t resist touching you

・❥・ genre: smut + kinda friends to lovers

・❥・ word count: 1.9k

✎ warnings: 18+, smut, dom!vi, oral sex, fingering, sex in public place

WHEN I NEEDED YOU masterlist

a week after Vi was discharged from the hospital, she returned to college. she wasn’t allowed to play yet, but she didn’t miss a single practice, even if it just meant warming up with the others and then sitting on the bench to watch. she recovered quickly, but if you hadn’t insisted, she would’ve tried to play on the first day back. the doctor had strictly forbidden it, and you made sure to keep an eye on her. though Vi was eager to return to her normal pace, full recovery required time, as the risks were still too high.

another bit of good news - Troy was no longer on the team or even at college. you saw him clearing out his locker as his parents and security escorted him away. when you asked your dad if he knew anything about it, he simply kissed your forehead and told you not to worry. either way, you didn’t mind; whatever your father had done, it had worked. truth be told, it even scared you a little, but Troy got what he deserved. naturally, all accusations were dropped, and your mom mentioned in confidence that your father had threatened Troy’s family, saying you’d press charges for assault and all the vile things their son had done. it was a relief to finally exhale; for a moment, it even felt like the air without your ex was lighter.

without Troy’s bullying, Josh finally left the team, free from the person who’d tormented him for years. he seemed to have started playing guitar in his garage. but the biggest surprise was that he’d found a partner. according to Trish, they met at the last match and hit it off, though homophobic Troy had always intimidated Josh, and for good reason. long story short, many people in his social circle felt better without him, and you were glad it was over.

after classes, you met Vi in the parking lot. she kissed you on the lips and wrapped her arms around your waist, letting her hands slide lower. smiling mid-kiss, she murmured, “maybe I should transfer to another school”

“and why’s that?” you teased, slipping your hands under her shirt, pushing her jacket aside, and pulling her closer, which made Vi bite your lip.

“I can’t focus on school or anything serious when you walk around looking so gorgeous and tempting,” she said, squeezing your hips and leaning you against the hood of her car.

“I can’t stand my loneliness, especially when you two are kissing so sweetly out here for all to see,” interrupted a voice. it was Trish, standing behind you with her arms crossed. “just a reminder, Vi, that I was the one who first told your new girlfriend how beautiful you are, so both of you owe me”

finally, you and Vi let go of each other and laughed. Vi took your hand and said, “and I’ll be forever grateful to you for it”

“ready to go?” you asked Trish, who was still grinning as she watched the two of you.

“I came to say I won’t be able to make it today. mom’s not feeling well, and I want to stay with her. do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” Trish said, looking a little apologetic.

“of course, no problem at all. send her my best and wish her a speedy recovery. if she’d like, I can bring over some of my mom’s special soup; it’s really delicious,” you replied understandingly.

“that would be wonderful. thank you, I’ll text you about tomorrow” Trish gave you a quick hug goodbye before hurrying home.

“where were you two going, and what’s been rescheduled for tomorrow?” Vi asked, curious.

“the library. we have a history test coming up, and Trish and I often go there to focus. there’s a total silence rule, so we can’t gossip or listen to music. it sounds odd, but we get distracted so easily that the library’s our only hope,” you explained.

“want me to go with you?” she looked into your eyes. “unless this is some kind of special friend ritual?”

“no, no, nothing like that, but are you sure you want to sit quietly for an hour with a history book?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

“yes, especially since I have the test too. I’m not playing right now, so the coach won’t be able to get me extra credit for athletic involvement,” Vi said a little sadly, clearly missing her usual active lifestyle. but you weren’t giving in - the doctor’s orders were law, especially for Vi, and she deserved the best care.

“alright, then, let’s go,” you decided to steer the topic away from sports to take her mind off it.

“why an hour, though?” Vi asked, referring to what you had mentioned earlier.

“well, it’s not strict or anything, just a rule Trish and I came up with: an hour of uninterrupted studying, then any break or distraction we want. it’s like a little motivation,” you shrugged with a smile.

“if it’s the rule, then let’s follow it,” Vi said as she opened the passenger door for you and got behind the wheel.

ten minutes later, you arrived. there weren’t many people there, so you took your and Trish’s usual seats near the bookshelves. as you’d told Vi, there was complete silence, only occasionally broken by the sound of turning pages. Vi sat next to you, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. when she turned back, she caught you staring at her hands, biting your lip, which made her smile and raise an eyebrow. you felt a bit embarrassed, but it wasn’t surprising - you never focused on Trish this way, yet with Vi nearby, you realized it might be a little harder to concentrate.

you quickly looked away, pulling out a sheet with the test questions. each question had a list of recommended books to review. pointing out a few titles to Vi, you both set off to find them. the history section had plenty of books, so it took a little time to gather what you needed.

Vi leaned over to you and very quietly asked where she should find a particular book, you pointed to the bottom shelf, and she nodded. running your eyes over the stand with books, you saw that a little higher is hidden a book, the author of which is your teacher, usually it is occupied by someone, but today was a good day. when you reached for her, Vi looked up and was very pleased with what she saw. the length of your skirt gave a good view of your underwear, which made Vi feel incredible desire and attraction. she carefully stood up and slowly ran her hand down your leg from your ankle to your thigh until her fingers were under your skirt. you almost didn't let go of the book from your surprise, your eyes became round and goosebumps ran through your body, you wanted to say something, but Vi only put her index finger to her lips. she took the book and placed it on the shelf, leaving her other hand on your butt, glancing over at you, she smiled at you, desire burning in her eyes, you felt incredibly attracted to her, so you moved a little closer. her lips covered yours, you tasted her as her warm tongue slipped between yours, Vi pulled you closer to you, squeezing your butt tighter, her other hand ending up under your shirt, her thumb gently caressing your skin as her lips kissed you.

she pulled away from you and leaned into your ear, saying “the rule of complete silence, remember?”. her fingers ran up the fabric of your panties under your skirt and she ran her hand down touching you. she smirked when she felt how wet you were, running a finger over your clit you rested your head on her shoulder holding back a moan. every movement seems very slow and you wanted more, you could feel the vibrations going through your body when her finger started stimulating your clit more actively, you held on to her with your hands so you wouldn't fall. she covered you with her lips again and you felt her finger enter you, a wave of pleasure covered your body, you immediately started to move on it, kissing her more passionately, your hips moving and your body getting heavier. she wasn't about to stop, her finger digging into you harder and harder as you struggled to hold back a scream. only the rustle of the books reminded you where you were now, you almost didn't care, you could feel your wetness running on her finger, you were so wet and excited that you didn't care if they could hear you now, you wanted her touch, you wanted to cum from her fingers, you wanted to show her what pleasure she brings you. when her second finger was inside you tightened your grip on her, and Vi sped up as much as possible, your legs were just shaking at this point. Vi's other hand pulled your bra down and squeezed your breasts, you threw your head back and surrendered to the feeling, you came so hard it made your head spin. holding you, she pulled her hand out of your panties and pressed you against the bookshelf, kissing you again. her lips moved to your neck and trailed down.

“what are you doing?” you said almost inaudibly in surprise.

Vi just looked up at you and answered “you said we had an hour”

goosebumps ran down your spine and she returned to your neck again, kneeling, Vi placed your leg over her shoulder and lifted your skirt, putting her index finger to her lips again to keep you quiet.

her fingers gently pulled your panties to the side, and she ran her tongue over your pussy, collecting a mess you had done earlier. your body was so heavy that you grabbed the shelf with one hand to keep from falling. her lips pressed against your wetness, she didn't tease like before, her tongue was immediately inside you, you opened your mouth again in a silent moan and ran a hand into her hair. Vi's hands wrapped around your ass, and she ate you out greedily as you held back a moan. she was sucking your clit and running her tongue which was giving you incredible pleasure, you were moving your hips to ride her face as she explored your most intimate place. the second orgasm didn't take long, you came from her tongue even faster than from her fingers. you didn't have any strength left, but how nice it was. she put your panties back in place and climbed on top of you.

“I see you liked it,” she said teasingly. you just bit your lip and nodded, straightening your skirt.

“maybe next time I can sit on your face properly” you winked at Vi and ran your finger over her lips which were still wet from you.

“no reason to wait, you can still stand so…” Vi smiled and took your things and led you by the hand out of the library to the questioning looks of the others.

[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! 

[joocomics]

ಬ different kind of normal

pairing: idol!taehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut — mdni! wc: 1.7k

contains: situationship, reunion sex, sub!reader, slight hint of dumbification, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, reader is emotional and cries during sex, not a happy ending (?)

a/n: this has been sitting in the drafts since august and it’s finally seeing the light of day. cannot believe such angsty smut is happening on joocomics, tbh i don’t think i’ll be writing anything similar anytime soon phew it was tricky and i realised that i need my happy endings. but i wanted to try smth new, i really hope you enjoy it </3 sometimes you just need a kim taehyun to numb your emotions

You go down the familiar stairs and walk into the bar. It’s loud, lit by the usual dim yellow-ish lights, the scent of alcohol and skin is covering every corner, wrapping around your silhouette.

Your eyes observe the place to search for him and it doesn’t take long to find him - he’s sitting on your usual spot which is distanced from every other table; it feels intimate and secluded.

None of the people who visit this bar know who he is, nor do they know you, and sitting on this specific table every time you see each other only enhances the feeling you get in these moments - like you and him are the only people existing in this place and time.

“Taehyun,” you greet him at once.

You haven’t said his name out loud in so long. You’re not allowed to talk about him to anyone; not that you want to anyway, you want to keep him to yourself though it feels nice to be able to roll it off your tongue again. It feels freeing, especially in his presence.

Maybe he missed hearing his name in your voice, because his eyes smile at the sound before he even turns to face you. The letters ring nicely, like his name is something he can feel caressing his skin when you’re the one saying it.

“You’re here.” He automatically leans forward after you sit down next to him; the usual gravitational force that always pulls you together is another thing he was anticipating to experience again.

His one arm goes over your shoulders and the sudden warmth enveloping you makes your knees weak. The truth is, they were already weak from the steps you had to take to reach your table, but now they feel like they’re about to melt.

Being so close to him months later feels like it’s your first date all over again. You hate it and love it all at the same time.

“I just ordered your favorite,” he says and you can hear the slight note of pride in his smooth voice.

His hair is covered from a black cap which he eventually takes off before running a hand through his hair; it grabs your attention with a new color that you haven’t seen him with in person before.

You point out the obvious fact about how he still remembers your order as you take a minute to observe the attractive features that make up the face you learned to love.

“Of course I do,” he simply replies, leaning in for a kiss.

The first kiss after three and a half months. It feels so exciting and electrifying, just like the very first one you had a year ago, but at the same time it feels familiar too - like you’re reminiscing on a comforting memory you haven’t looked back on for a while.

His hand slides up your thigh, then travels up your hip only to sneak in discreetly beneath your shirt, sending you pleasant shockwaves. Soon enough he breaks the kiss though, careful not to bring any unnecessary attention on you.

“Next month I’m gonna have a week off.” Taehyun speaks up after a moment of silence between the two of you. After a sip of his beer, he continues: “I was thinking that you can come visit me if you want.”

Yes… Yes. You do. You want to scream it out loud. But the only thing you do is breathe in, staring inside the cup of your cocktail; trying to force yourself to speak before your mind turns blank.

“You don’t need to worry about money,” he adds as he shifts his gaze to you, hopeful and anticipating of your response. “It’s all on me, baby.”

There it is - the reminder you needed before giving any answers. His money, his fame. His life that’s so unfitting to yours. The pink balloon you found yourself in for a moment as he shared about his plan, tempting you to naively build dreams about your one week together, it pops, and brings you back to the harsh reality.

“Tae…” You shake head, “no matter what we do or tell each other we can’t be normal.”

Taehyun’s brows furrow at your choice of word.

Normal.

“This has to end at some point, I don’t think we should complicate things any further… as we’ve already said before.” You exhale deeply after blurting out the things you’ve been practicing on your way here. He didn’t hear the sound that escaped your lips because of the music mixed with the chatter, but if he did, he’d have known that saying all of this cost you an immense amount of energy.

You don’t glance at him even once, but Taehyun on the other hand can’t stop staring at you like he’s in some sort of a bad dream that’ll end soon if he’s patient enough.

“Right, right…” He nods, finally able to force his eyes somewhere else. He peers down at his hands on the table that begin to tap nervously at the wooden surface, sharing almost the same rhythm as his heartbeat. “You’re right, that’s the wisest thing to do.”

You know it is, but hearing him agree turns out to be more painful than you expect.

For the best, this has to end soon, you remind yourself. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow.

“I missed you,” Taehyun rises your body temperature through raspy whispers and open mouthed kisses which he scatters onto your skin almost in a rush; as if you’re going to disappear from his hands if he dares to slow down. “Missed you so fuckin’ much...”

His soft lips trace a path from your neck down to your cleavage and soon enough he’s even lower, running his tongue against your stomach before kissing that area sensually too. The slight moisture slipping from the corners of his mouth in addition to the delicate sucks makes you shudder as he simultaneously tugs on your underwear.

“Missed this sweet pussy too,” he invites his fingers into your walls effortlessly. His gaze focuses upon your lips and how they open for a silent gasp as he glides through with ease because of your already collected arousal. “Did she miss me?”

While anticipating an answer, Taehyun swirls his tongue inside his mouth before letting a string of saliva fall right onto your clit; he smears it all over your folds, provoking your thighs to open even wider for him.

“Tae—“ You arch spine, emphasising your need for something more than this lingering rush that’s growing in a pace that’s not quite enough for how much you ache for his touch right now. “Please…”

“I think she did.” A lustful spark shimmers in his eyes as his hand maintains its delicate motions. The movements make you moan every time his fingertips reach your sensitive bundle of nerves before slipping back down again. “Say it.”

At once he meets your eyes as his frame eventually hovers over your naked flushed body.

Your hands relax on his broad shoulders as your focus fixates on his face. Hopefully there’s not as much pain into your eyes as there is in your heart in this moment. You don’t want him to know how much exactly you’re actually hurting.

“I missed you every day,” you whisper softly as your noses touch; your mouths search for each other, thirsty for the other’s taste even more now. When you feel his hand guiding his cock to your entrance your breathing catches, but you still manage to repeat it. “Of course, I missed you.”

The second he hears your words, Taehyun crashes his lips against your mouth. Because he cannot bare hearing this one more time or because he enjoys the sound of it too much - he’s not able to tell.

As he leads the kiss swiftly your legs wrap loosely around his hips and your warm walls immediately squeeze onto him as he quickens the pace, eager to make up for all the time you were away from each other.

“Fuck—“ He grunts at the growing pleasure that he reminisced about night after night before breathing out against your neck: “Finally… I swear to god nobody else can make me feel this way.”

His voice, husky and domineering despite his on going confessions, echoes in your fuzzy mind. Although you shouldn’t, you put in all the effort you can into memorising each word he says; you hold onto it tightly as the continuous thrusts gradually turn more rigid and sharp causing your nails to sink into his shoulder blades. However, as amazing the buzzing sweet wave inside you feels, you cannot suppress the sadness that’s about to overpower you first.

You swallow another failed attempt to fight back the bitter emotion, but you can feel it lingering everywhere - in your heart, inside your stomach, on your tongue once he slows down his hips to grip your face, and inside your throat that feels like it’s closing up.

“Why are you crying?”

Taehyun peers into your eyes that are sparkling at him with a bittersweet emotion which he hasn’t gotten used to seeing inside them. His gaze lowers to your puffy lips, trembling as they separate with hesitation.

“I… I don’t know what’s gotten to me, sorry,” your arms wrap tighter to pull him closer. His thumb caressing your wet cheek only makes it worse for you. “Please, k-keep going.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispers under his breath as he fulfills your wish by resuming his thrusts - more forcefully though to distract you from the sorrow, “I’ll make it go away now, okay? Focus on me, baby.”

You grasp his shoulders while the delight starts to numb your mind with each intense push of his cock. The hits against your sweet spot are fast and strong enough to weaken your memory right away.

“There you go,” Taehyun’s pants blend with your whimpers ringing beneath him as the tears on your skin begin to dry. “Such pretty eyes, look at me, love.”

Something about seeing you cry for the first time made his heart clench, and now his mind fogs up, leaving him with only one goal - to make you cum as many times as possible so you can’t think of anything for the rest of the night.

Right now, he’d erase every single thought from your brain if he knows he’s capable of doing so.

The moment he feels you’re tightening up Taehyun’s eyes open so he doesn’t miss out on one flinch of yours.

“Yeah, I’m here, baby,” he murmus, trying to keep moving forward while your peak lasts, causing you to quiver beneath his frame. “Let go, baby, I’m right here.”

Yes, he’s here, and tomorrow morning he’s still going to be here, but you’ll be gone, because this time if he tries to stop you like all the previous times, you’re not going to look back.

But for now, you and Taehyun are close as you’ve never been before.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Right again ▪ Tom Riddle x f!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Tom Riddle x f!reader (+ SPOILER x f!reader)

Summary: Tom, who always thought relationships were meaningless, changed his mind when he met y/n. He plans on telling her how he feels, however, it doesn't go as planned, and he finds himself to be right - again.

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: Fluff; angst; English is not my first language.

A/N: It wasn't supposed to be this long lmao. I will write the same plot with Mattheo, Draco, Lorenzo and Theo in the future - hopefully with a better title lol. PLEASE PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FLOP OR YOU WON'T SEE ME ON HERE AGAIN LOL. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tom Riddle was in his dorm, one of the only places in Hogwarts where he could be by himself, and where he could be doing the things he enjoyed the most - studying and reading, both in silence. But, despite being currently sitting on his desk - always perfectly arranged -, he was not currently reading a book or studying. Instead, he was doing something he never thought he would do and was feeling something he never thought he would feel: thinking about a girl, and being nervous about a girl. 

Contrary to Mattheo and his friends, Tom has never cared for relationships - he could barely bear being around Mattheo’s friends if serious, meaningful discussions or activities weren’t involved. Sure, he cared for Mattheo, more than he cared to admit, because they were of the same blood. And for Tom, blood was one of the things that mattered the most, alongside loyalty, knowledge and influence. 

And y/n. 

Tom had always thought Mattheo was the only person he could ever care for - after all, they needed to have some sort of loyalty towards each other if they wanted to have a chance to fight their father - but, just like he was surprised to learn he did not want to follow his father in his quest for tyranny, Tom was surprised to find himself caring for y/n. 

Just like he had never cared for friendship, Tom had never cared for love. He did not think it was a weakness as his father did, but he did think it was not as important as people made it out to be. And, also, why care for love when something terrible, something that would likely cost lives was being prepared? 

But then again, y/n challenged that idea. Despite being in the same house and the same year, it took Tom several years to properly notice her. He knew she was one of Mattheo’s close friends outside of his usual group, and that gave them occasions to spend time together. Strangely, Tom had first found her company more tolerable than the others - she seemed to understand his will for silence, deep conversations and his interests, seemed to have the same thirst for knowledge. She was kind as well, having what people called “a heart of gold”, always ready to help anybody in need. She was also warm and funny, two things she shared with Mattheo, and it usually didn’t take people enough to want to be her friend. Tom had considered y/n the closest thing he had to a friend, and he thought he would stay that way until, one day, he saw her and Mattheo sitting closer to each other than usual, and he felt something strange, something he didn’t expect to feel, and something he struggled to understand - jealousy. He didn’t think it was that at first, but it became obvious it indeed was jealousy when he found himself wishing that he was the one sitting next to her, and not Mattheo. 

From that moment, he kept thinking about y/n in ways he had never done before - how beautiful she was, how he loved her smile, how he wanted to hold her hand, to smell her addictive perfume, to be the person who mattered most to her… how he wanted to hold and kiss her. He had considered those thoughts as foolish at first and tried to not have them, but everytime he was with y/n, they came back running, and he sometimes had to restrain himself from sitting closer to her just to smell her perfume when they were in class, or to hold her hand when they were studying in the library. He didn’t have anybody to ask questions to - Mattheo would laugh at him - so, like he always did, Tom gave himself the answer: it was love. At first, he thought it was only temporary and it didn’t even cross his mind to tell her about it, but he was forced to admit that, instead of disappearing, those feelings became stronger with each day passing. The idea displeased him, and he tried to avoid y/n so these feelings would go away, but it was in vain, and only made him miss y/n - and made him love her more. But one day, as he was sitting on his desk busy thinking about her instead of studying, the idea of just telling her how he felt seemed right. Of course, the idea of rejection secretly terrified him, but he would accept simply being her friend. y/n deserved a loyal, sincere friend and that is what Tom was. All she had to do was give him a chance he could be the boyfriend - the word seemed so meaningless compared to what he felt - she deserved, a boyfriend who would be loyal, caring, sincere, and who would put her and her needs and safety first.  

Thus, he got her favorite flowers, and, having thought about what to say to her for hours, decided to go and ask her to have a moment of her time. And now the time had come. He grabbed the bouquet, and, trying to pull himself together, left his dorm. At that hour, y/n should be in the common room. With a bit of luck, she would be alone. Tom headed for the common room, which was nearly empty except for two first years laughing. He started looking for y/n, and his heart, which had started to beat faster with nervosity and hope, almost broke. 

y/n was indeed here, standing in a corner of the room - kissing Mattheo, who had a hand on her waist and the other in her hair. He broke the kiss, looked at her in a way Tom had never seen him and y/n had a smile before Mattheo pressed his lips on hers like he couldn’t help it. 

Tom took a step back, and the only thing that stopped him from dropping the bouquet was the noise he knew it would make. He turned around and quickly yet silently went back to his dorm - where the flowers finally met the ground. His back against the door, he almost wanted to laugh now. How could he have been so foolish? It should have been obvious to him from the start that y/n, warm and kind y/n, would prefere Mattheo, Mattheo would everybody loved or at least fond of, who had no problems making friends and be with people, Mattheo who had never been anything like their father. Mattheo, who people didn’t intimidate or rightfully found cold and strange. 

You’ve won, brother. 

As always, Tom Riddle found he had been right. Love was meaningless, and he should never have cared for it - should have never cared for her - in the first place. 

He was right, but for the first time in his life, he wished he wasn’t.

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Next projects

Masterlist

[ozwriterchick]

Back to Us - Chapter 2

Summary: Y'/n wakes after an accident to her Avengers team-mates. But something isn't quite right and only Steve and Tony can see it.

Characters/Relationships: Steve Rogers x Reader; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanoff; Other Avengers Characters

Content warnings: Mentions of an accident (no details yet); If I missed any, let me know

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word count: 1142 (approx.)

Tony & Steve stood close together outside the hospital room in silence for a few minutes.

“So, that was strange, right Tony?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I noticed somethings she said earlier too.  I think she’s got some kind of amnesia.  Let’s let the Doc do his tests and I’ll come back later this afternoon and talk to him to see what is going on.”

Back in the hospital room, the Doctor pulls a chair up and sits beside your bedside.  “Ok, let’s talk some more.  You’ve been in a coma for 10 days.  We’re going to send you off for an MRI, draw some blood and check the basics first and just make sure everything’s working the way it should. How does that sound?”

Y/n smiles at him tiredly “I’m getting really tired but I’ll try and stay awake for all the tests”

“Well, the MRI you’ll need to stay awake for cause there’ll be certain breathing exercises you’ll need to do during it, but that will all be told to you when you get to the imaging department.  And apart from that, we can always work around your naps, because you definitely need to rest as well.”

Later that day, you are back in your room after the first lot of tests have been completed.  Napping on and off while waiting for the next test and the results of the ones they have already completed.

The doctor comes into the room again with the computer that shows him the test results.  “Well, all of it looks good Y/n.  I can’t see anything concerning on the MRI and the blood tests have come back fine as well, so it looks like no permanent damage.”

“Well, that’s great news Doc” you said.

“Let’s do some memory test questions, okay?” As the Doctor asks this, Tony walks back into the room.

“Sorry doc, I just couldn’t stay away, but it looks like I got here just in time for the good stuff.  Hey Y/n, how are you feeling this afternoon?” he asked.

“Really tired tony.  But Doc has just said that the MRI and other tests have come back fine.  And hopefully if these memory questions go well, I can go home?” you look at the Doctor hopefully.

“Okay, first question – what is today’s date and do you know where you are?” the Doctor begins.

“Today is May 15th and I’m at Stark County Hospital” you proudly answer.

“Great, what is your full name, date of birth and parents names?” the doctor continues.

You smile because these are all easy questions in your opinion. “Easy.  My name is Y/fn Y/ln, Date of birth 22 June, my parents are Y/mn & Y/dn Y/ln”

“Alright, here comes the big one.  What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?”

“Well, I think I remember an impact, but I’m not sure if that’s a trick of my brain because I’ve been told there was an accident.  I do remember Steve, I mean Captain Rogers, Bucky, Nat and I were heading to a Hydra facility in Romania cause we had intel that there were some hostages being held there.”

“We split up, Nat and Cap went to the West and Bucky and I went to the East to make sure there weren’t any goons over and above the ones we anticipated would be guarding the facility.  Bucky and I dealt with the ones on our side and entered the building, clearing floors as we went.”

“We met Nat & Cap in the centre of the main floor, agreed they’d go up to the higher floors and Bucky and I would go down to the lower floors as we thought that’s likely where they’d hold the hostages.  The last thing I remember is being on maybe the 3rd floor down and entering a room with at least 6 people chained up to the walls, in cells.  Bucky started ripping the cell doors off their hinges so we could get into them, then there was a beeping and that’s about it. “

“Like I said, I think there was an explosion, but I’m not really sure if that’s just cause, you know..” you finished.

“Ok, get some more rest and I’ll be back later to see how you are.” The Doctor told you.  You nodded at him and Tony and closed your eyes.

“I’ll be right back Y/n” Tony smiles at you and you smile back, drifting into sleep.

Tony quickly caught up to the Doctor.  “Hey doc, so, what’s the latest?  That was particularly concerning to me?”

“She seems fine, there’s nothing wrong with any of her results.  What’s concerning you Tony?” he enquired.

“Well, that Hydra incident she says is the last thing she remembers, that was 4 years ago.  I was a bit worried today cause she didn’t seem to remember a few things, but this is the icing on the cake.” Tony conveyed his concern to your doctor.

“Hmmmm, well, I guess we’ll run some more tests and I’ll keep you posted.” The Doctor told Tony, also showing some concern now that he knew this further information.

Over the next couple of days, the doctor and his team ran further tests, but couldn’t work out why you were missing the memories, except for the bump on your head.

Tony and the doctor decided it was time to tell you so they sat down with you on the day you were to be discharged.

“So Y/n” the doctor began “We’ve run a whole heap of tests and everything looks great, however there is one thing we need to let you know.”

“Oh. “you were concerned that there was something that looked ok but wasn’t. “Alright, lay it on me.”

Tony took over “The other day when you first woke up you said a few things that concerned Steve and I.  Then when the doctor was doing the memory test questions, you mentioned the Hydra mission in Romania as the last thing you remembered.”

“Right, that was my last conscious memory that I can recall.” You said.

“Yeah, well the thing is…” Tony started “that mission was not the last mission you went on.”

“Oh, so there’s another mission in the middle that I don’t remember?  How much time am I missing” you can’t think of how long ago it was but surely it was only a few days or a week or two.

“You know what, let’s just leave it at a gap in your memories for now?” Tony asked.

“And we shouldn’t force anything, the more you force this kind of thing, the more the brain can subconsciously rebel against remembering.  We need the memories to come back naturally to give you the best chance of having full recollection of whatever is missing.”

You sat back and wondered just how much you were missing.

Tag List: @wolfbeanpotion @vioplay19 @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @crazyunsexycool @zaraomarrogers @bitchy-bi-trash

[desertduality]

Trustfall

Ao3

Just a little thing I wrote to explore the Jimmy and Scar dynamic. Set loosely after session two. Enjoy! <3

Night comes, and Scar can't hide from his feelings anymore. They catch up to him - like everything does, eventually. Scar can never run fast enough.

He's on another mountain, this one green and pink and bright, bordered by tall shoots of bamboo and topped with cherry blossom trees, decorated with growing wheat fields and pens that - sometimes - house sheep and cows. It's all so... alive. So beautiful. So fragile.

The beauty of it is not the surprising part. It's not even that he spent the better part of the day eating dirt or leaves or shovels. No, the strangest thing on the mountain is the people. The strangest thing about them is that they're there at all. With Scar. On purpose.

He can't quite figure it out. The why of it. Jimmy had made it look so easy to say he would stay, like he couldn't think of a million reasons not to. And then Lizzie, who he had invited, and then still been surprised to see her there when he got back. They do it without obligation. Scar had almost forgotten what that felt like.

Neither of them are tethered to him by fate or bound by an oath. They're just there, bright and silly and constant. He'd had something close to it, once, with the allies he'd jokingly called his family, but that had been... messy.

Jimmy and Lizzie make caring about him feel like something simple.

Tell me about your theme park idea, Lizzie had said, and he had. He'd braced himself for- for something. For dismissal. For a roll of the eyes.

A good theme park has three things. Lizzie had mused instead. We need rides, decorations, and a mascot. I think one of us here has real mascot energy.

Jimmy's face had lit up. Lizzie had built three birds at the entrance to their base, standing proudly. Scar stares at them now, shadowy figures in the dark. They're a team. And as much as Lizzie jokes and groans about what a handful the two of them are, they're still equals. They understand each other. Lizzie knows what it's like to be alone, overlooked. Jimmy knows what it's like to be seen as a burden, a joke.

Somehow, despite everything, they trust each other. It's terrifying.

"Stargazing?"

Scar jumps at the voice, a quiet yelp escaping his throat before he can stop it. He twists his torso to look, a jerky motion, and lays eyes on Jimmy, who seems a bit apologetic. "Ah, sorry-"

"Geez, Jimmy, oh my god," Scar says through wheezing breaths, hand pressed to his chest. "This is the life series, man, you can't sneak up on- on a man in thought!"

"Right, sorry, sorry," Jimmy continues, laughing a little bit. "Thought you heard me walk over."

Jimmy sits down next to him, clothes rumpled from bed. It's quiet, fireflies blinking and crickets chirping in the distance. The moon is nearly full, high in the sky. It's early enough in the game that a full nights sleep is still an option. And yet-

"Couldn't sleep?" Jimmy asks, tone light but genuine.

"Oh, you know," Scar says, humming. "Stomach ache. Dirt doesn't agree with me. Who knew?"

"Yeah, glad that one's over." Jimmy stretches his legs out in front of him. "Think I chipped a tooth. I'm billing Grian."

Scar laughs quietly, mindful of Lizzie snoring just a few yards away. That's another thing he's not quite used to: sleeping with others nearby. It's comforting. He's afraid he'll get used to it.

They sit in silence for a while, comfortable and secure. Their frankly absurd amount of bamboo rustles in the gentle wind, cherry blossom petals perpetually raining down around them. It's the kind of perfect peace that has Scar waiting on the other shoe to drop.

"...What was winning like?" Jimmy asks eventually, voice soft.

"...I don't know," Scar says. "It didn't really feel like winning. It was kind of just, like. Sad."

"Sad?"

"Yeah." Scar sighs, leaning back to look at the stars. "I thought it might make me feel better, to just- to prove that I could."

Jimmy hums like he's really listening, like he understands, and Scar... Something settles. Something that has been flinching for a very long time goes still.

"I was tired of being alone," he admits. "Still am. I end up that way a lot."

"Not this time," Jimmy says, a lopsided smile on his face. "Not on my watch."

He places a comforting hand on Scar's shoulder. Grounding. Real.

Oh, Scar thinks. This is what it's like to have something to lose.

"You sure it's not too early to say that?" Scar asks, half teasing. "You might be running for the hills a week from now. I'm not- I'm not an easy teammate."

"Hey, me neither, pal." Jimmy nudges him, smile a bit jagged at the edges. "I'm known for dying early. I've got issues with longevity."

"They make medicine for that."

"Wh- Scar!"

Scar doubles over, wheezing uncontrollably. Jimmy follows helplessly, in a way that almost sounds painful. It continues for a while, until Lizzie makes a small noise in her sleep, and the two of them choke back their laughter to something manageable, tapering back into silence. Scar feels... happy. He feels happy. It's...

"How about you?" Scar asks. "Anything you want to get off your chest? Just between us. And the giant parrot statues."

"Ehh, I don't know," Jimmy says playfully, eying the parrots suspiciously. "I don't know if I trust 'em."

"And me?"

"You?" Jimmy glances sideways at him, eyes light and honest. "Of course. We're the Bam Boys."

Trust is something that Scar had thought he'd killed a long time ago. Jimmy offers it anyway. It's like a lighthouse in a storm. The sun to a flower. Water in a desert.

Trust. Just this once, Scar vows not to break it.

"So," Scar says, like nothing just happened. "Anything?"

Jimmy exhales shakily, looking away, down at his hands. There's dirt under his fingernails. Scar waits.

"I don't want to die first," Jimmy says, a faint tone of embarrassment in his voice. "I know it's like, a thing, but I really..."

Canary, they call him. A creature whose purpose is to die.

Scar knows a thing or two about unwanted titles. He sometimes feels like the role of Villain is still branded onto his skin, with the way some people look at him.

I don't want to die, cries the Canary, but the miner only pays attention when the singing stops.

"You won't," Scar says, as close to a promise as he can get. "Not this time. Not on my watch."

Jimmy grins crookedly, something relieved at the corners of his eyes. "That right?"

"That's right."

They go back to bed.

[jasvtsc]

young!jensen x reader. ex-bf!jensen x reader.

discreet glances.

small smiles.

mouthing things you couldn’t say aloud.

secret touches under the table. 

your pinky finger rubbing his as he had his hand on your knee.

all of that? it turned into complete ignorance.

you were confused about what caused your breakup with jensen. you both were fine. everything was fine. up until one night, it wasn’t anymore. you came back home, where he was already waiting for you, his head hung low as he kept his hands clasped tightly together. you could see a small tremble in them as if he was holding back his sadness. or anger. you couldn’t tell. 

you dropped your bag and tilted your head to the side, slowly approaching him. you were quiet. he was quiet. the whole apartment was quiet except for the clock, slowly ticking in the background, and some white noise coming from the kitchen. you felt your heart slowly coming up your throat as he finally lifted his glossy green eyes to look at you. once so full of life and love, now replaced with sadness and heartbreak.

exactly 38 minutes and 16 seconds later, you and jensen broke up. he said it was distance and work. you both were young, freshly rising stars. you had your projects — most of them abroad, and he had his stuff here. it wouldn’t have worked, that’s what he said. dnd you just agreed. 'cause what else was there? if he didn’t want to fight for the two of you, why should you? two people make a relationship. not one.

so, once cheerful looks turned to avoidance of eye contact whenever your eyes met.

once quiet chuckles turned to sternness and ignoring each other.

once intimate touches turned into keeping distance as if one of you had some kind of disease.

you tried to move on. you tried. after spending countless hours crying yourself to sleep and wondering what you did wrong, you finally stepped out into the world again. slowly, you were regaining your spirit, that gleam in your eyes you lost due to the heartbreak. but most importantly, you finally let go of your past. of him. 

maybe one day your paths will cross again.

jensen also tried to get back on track. but the looming feeling of guilt and realisation that he had lost the best things in his entire life hung heavy on his shoulders. he knew he made a mistake. he should’ve never chosen his career over you. you were always supporting him, you were there for him and he went and dumped it cause what? a young heartthrob like him would lose fans if others found out he was in a relationship. he knew he should’ve never listened to his manager. but now? it was too late. you were gone. 

now, whenever he saw you, his eyes were full of longing.

his heart was crying for you.

he knew that he had to talk to you again. no matter if you hated him. he had to see you.

you were in your assigned place at some awards show. and you weren’t sure if it was just your luck or he did that on purpose, but jensen was sitting next to you. at first, you were thinking about changing your seat, but then again, there was no bad blood between the two of you. you could act like adults, right?

“baby, listen to me, i’m sorry— “ he started, turning his head to look at you with those green eyes that had so much depth to them. and again, you could see that love in them. fuck, you were crumbling. you weren’t over him as much as you thought that you were.

“hey, it’s okay. it’s fine. we’re fine.”

“we’re not, ‘kay? i regret my decision every single fucking minute of the day. i’m a fucking idiot. i should’ve never break your heart like that. i love you, baby. please, i— ” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “i’m sorry. about everything.”

you didn’t know what to do. your heart was yearning for him. you missed him, so much. but he broke your heart, there was no going back from that.

so, you sat in silence, just staring at each other as people around were clapping and cheering for the person on stage. but you didn’t care nor did jensen. his whole world was sitting right in front of him.

a/n: okay so yeah i wrote a little sth and tbh im not sure how i feel about it lmao i just hope that you enjoy it guys <3

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @figthoughts @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @titsout4nicholas

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Kinktober Day 29 - Masks/Costumes

A/N: Okay so this came about because of a conversation with @jhoneybees and a tiktok about imagining Elvis doing a Calvin Klein advert. This is basically set now, but imagine it's 1969 Elvis, don't ask me how that works it just does.

Pairing: 69!Elvis x photographer!reader

Word count: 2.1K

TWs: This concept is maybe too hot to think about for too long so be careful, masturbation, p in v sex, dirty photos, kinda public sex. There's a mask but honestly I just shoehorned it in there.

Kinktober masterlist

“So if you could just strip down to the underwear, and then make yourself comfortable on the chair. We’ve got some props in the box too.”

Elvis frowns a little at the word “props”, but does as he’s told. He’s nervous about this photoshoot. He never thought he would do anything like this, but here he is. He starts to strip, feeling self-conscious under the hot lights. He’s never really been a big fan of underwear but these new Calvin Klein boxer shorts are pretty comfortable. They don’t leave much to the imagination, though, and he sits awkwardly on the armchair, shuffling his legs about. 

“Can you put one of those masks on, please?”

He starts at the voice. Female, honeyed, with an air of authority. Looking up, he’s confronted by you and your camera. He’d been expecting the female set helpers but not a female photographer. Becoming even more aware of the way his dick looks in his pants, he crosses one leg over the other. He pulls a mask out of the box of props and puts it on over his eyes, feeling like this must look absolutely ridiculous but trying his best to be amenable. The lights are beating down on him and he feels like the entire room of people is staring at him. He’s usually happy to be looked at, encourages it almost, but this is different. He feels naked, exposed. 

“Um… uh… is this okay, honey?”

You sigh. “Uncross your legs. And stop calling me honey, Mr Presley.”

“Ah I-I’m sorry… Miss…” he stumbles awkwardly over the words. “Ya…um… ya don’t have ta call me Mr Presley. Elvis is fine.”

“Uncross your legs, Elvis.”

You watch as he slowly does as you tell him. Men calling you pet names annoys you on principle, but he’s much less cocky than you’d expected. There’s something endearing about the way he stumbles over his words and seems a little unsure of himself. 

“That’s great, thanks. We’ll take a few shots for the lighting now. Try to relax.”

Elvis tries his very best to relax, but he can’t help but feel a combination of terror and arousal. You’re gorgeous but he can’t seem to charm you like he usually would. You don’t seem interested. Maybe you’re just being professional, but it’s still off-putting. He puts a hand on each of the arms of the chair and tries to keep his expression neutral. You take a few shots and ask the lighting technicians to make one or two changes until you’re happy. Then you actually look at his face and realise he looks terrified. 

“Really try to relax, Elvis. You look like you’re about to be eaten by a grizzly bear.”

There’s a moment of silence and then he bursts out laughing. His whole face lights up as he belly-laughs and you grin back, taking a few photos of him looking natural. You take a quick look at them and decide you can do without the mask. It was something that the stylist had suggested for the shoot, and you’d wondered why anyone would want to cover up such a gorgeous face, but they’d done a relatively good job of persuading you. Some kind of eyes wide shut theme or something like that. But it doesn’t work, and you aren’t one to stick to things just for the sake of it. 

“That’s better! Get rid of the mask too, that’s not working for me.”

He smiles, pulling it off and throwing it onto the floor. “This working for you, honey?” He asks, cheekily, leaning back in the chair and spreading his legs wide. 

You find yourself biting your lip to stifle a moan. He looks damn hot. But you have to be professional. You’ve done plenty of these photoshoots with attractive men, and you haven’t lost your cool yet. 

“That’s great. Let’s have a few of you smiling like that and then a couple of serious ones.”

His brain works overtime as he follows your directions. Are you interested? He swears he saw you bite your lip just then, but your voice is even and professional and you’re not flirting back at all. 

You keep snapping away with the camera, directing him and the lighting people until you get what you want. Your eyes are drawn to his hands, the glittering rings and the length of his fingers… you clear your throat. Have to keep things professional. 

“You getting what you need, honey?” His eyes are sparkling and there’s a little smile playing about his lips. 

“What did I tell you about calling me honey? It’s not 1973.”

Elvis raises both eyebrows and then lets them fall again. Does he detect something different in your voice? The tiniest quiver?

“You didn’t answer my question. Are ya gettin’ what ya need?”

He runs his tongue over his lips and you have to work hard not to lose it completely. 

“Yes, thank you, Elvis.” 

Your eyes involuntarily shift to the bulge in his pants. Luckily the camera is against your face so he can’t see where you’re looking, but you just stare. It’s definitely been growing over the course of the photoshoot. 

“Just one or two more. Give me your sexiest look.”

You have no idea why you decided to play with fire like that, and you regret it immediately. He smoulders, blue eyes staring at you as he rests his chin in his hand. Your panties are definitely getting damp now. You take a few more photos and then bite your lip, hard. 

“That’s great. Thanks. That’s a wrap!” 

Elvis blinks. He doesn’t want this to be over. He’s having far too much fun.

“Could ya do one or two more? I’m not sure I gave ya my sexiest look…”

Your stomach flip-flops. If that wasn’t his sexiest look you’re not sure you want to see what is.

“Well, okay, maybe one or two more.”

The lighting technician sighs audibly. It’s well past lunch time. You look over at him. 

“Why don’t you go for lunch? The lights are fine.” You look around at the other one or two people in the room. “You can all go. We won’t be much longer.”

Elvis watches the scene with interest. You’re refusing to make eye contact with him and he swears you’re blushing. Everyone else is just happy to be allowed to go, grabbing their things and making their way out. It’s just you and him now, and the room is quiet.

Elvis breaks the silence. “We won’t be much longer, hm?” 

You look up, awkwardly, suddenly wondering just what you thought you were doing when you sent everyone else for lunch. 

“N-no, just…uh… one or two more shots.”

Elvis chuckles. “Relax, baby. You look like you’re about to be eaten by a grizzly bear. And I ain’t that big.” But I will eat ya, he thinks. 

The tension in the room defuses for a minute or two as you laugh along with him. You pick up your camera again. 

“Okay, come on then. Really give me your sexiest look this time.”

You can hear your heart beating in your ears and feel your whole body getting hot. He runs his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment, and then you watch as they spring open and he fixes you with the most intense stare. Propping his head up again on the back of his hand, elbow on the arm of the chair, without any kind of warning he puts a finger in his mouth and bites on the knuckle. You almost faint on the spot. 

“Fuck.”

His eyes widen and his lips curl into a smile. 

“What’s that, baby?” Noting that’s the second time he’s called you baby and got away with it.

“N-nothing. That’s good. You’re right, that is sexier than what you were doing before.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, your panties are ruined and you’re actively suppressing a moan. He can see the effect he’s having and he knows exactly when to strike. 

“Come closer.”

His voice is so syrupy you can’t help yourself, putting one foot in front of the other until you’re standing right in front of him. You shakily move your camera from your face. 

“I-I think I’ve got what I… um… need,” you babble, trying to keep your eyes on his face but finding them wandering down to his boxers again. 

“Nothing else ya need?” He teases, moving one of his hands to rest on his clothed dick. 

You swallow. “N-no, Elvis.”

“No?”

You just stare at him, unable to speak. 

“Nothing else ya want to take a photo of?” 

Part of him can’t believe he’s being this bold, but he finds himself staring right into your eyes as he rubs his dick through the boxers, letting out a little breathy sigh and biting his lip. 

The tension is unbearable. 

“What are you offering?” You whisper, your eyes darting down to his hand on his dick and back up again. 

He smirks. “Just sayin’ ya can take photos of whatever ya like.”

You step back and bring your camera back up to your face, snapping a photo of him with his hand so obviously touching himself through his pants. 

“Take it out,” you find yourself instructing him. 

He grunts, shifting the boxers down a little as he reaches inside them for his dick, pulling it out and stroking it a couple of times.

“Can you… move the boxers down… further?” Your mouth feels dry and you try desperately to swallow. 

He pulls them down a little more and you gulp, seeing his balls exposed under that big, thick shaft. You take a few more photos. Elvis’ chest heaves. 

“Touch yourself again.”

He does as he’s told, slowly moving his foreskin up and down, staring right into the camera as he does it. You adjust the lens, take more photos, squeeze your thighs together. 

Your hands shake as you move the camera away from your face. He looks so good. 

“You got what you need?” He asks, still lazily stroking himself. 

You shake your head, trying to put the camera down carefully before walking the couple of steps it takes to reach him. 

“No. I need your dick inside me.”

He groans, watching as you pull your pencil skirt up around your waist and position yourself on his lap, pulling your panties to the side and sinking down on his length. 

“Fuck,” you murmur, feeling him stretch you. 

“You okay, baby?” He asks, as you gasp at the feeling of him filling you up completely. 

You’re surprised at the tenderness, at the way he pulls you into a kiss when you tell him yes. Your arms snake around his neck and his fingers grip your hips, thrusting up into you from underneath. You lean your forehead against his, panting as you roll your hips too, both of you holding each other. 

“How long have we got?” He asks. 

“I don’t know,” you breathe, cursing yourself for not checking the time when you let everyone else go. “We better be quick.”

He nods, his grip on your hips getting tighter as he fucks you from underneath. You start to bounce on him, matching his pace, both of you moaning against one another’s skin. 

“Baby, you feel so good.”

You bounce faster, your fingers finding their way into his hair. “Fuck me harder,” you murmur. 

His hips snap up obediently, driving his dick even deeper inside you. He can feel himself getting close but he wants you to cum first. 

“You close?”

You nod, pulling one of his hands down between your legs. He doesn’t need any further instructions, his thumb rubbing your clit as he keeps pounding you. Your fingers grip and pull his hair as your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” 

Elvis grips you more tightly, feeling how close you are. His thumb rubs harder and faster and you feel yourself start to unravel. 

“I’m cumming… ohhhh….” 

He watches you as you arch backwards, riding him through your high, desperately wishing he could take a picture. Your walls squeezing him tightly push him over the edge too, and without thinking he cums inside you. 

“Fuck. Honey. I uh… are ya on the pill?”

You lean your sweaty forehead against his again, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck. 

You smirk. “Yeah. Don’t worry.” Pressing a kiss to his lips. “But what did I tell you about calling me honey?”

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978

[leanxooo]

L O S T P U P P Y — rick grimes x black!fem reader x daryl dixon

“is it so bad i just wanna be around you two?”

✷ : One day a unknown named girl shows up to the atlanta camp, when she gets settled; she takes a liking to daryl and rick, following them around like a lost puppy and they dont know why.

✷ : chapter one: lost puppy interlude [ see other chapters ]

cw: mentions of daddy issues, walkers, pet names ( pretty, darling, sweet girl, princess ) , rude!daryl at first, a little sexual content ( dry humping, dirty talk, kissing ), age gap ( reader is 19 - 20 and Rick and Daryl are 30 - 40 ).

xoxo note: in this apocalypse the haves phones and anything modern, don't like it? keep it pushing honey, also ntm on me! I haven't written in a while.

Silence. That was the only thing heard around the camp as the group watched the young girl walk up in a baby pink skims set with pink Asics and a black book bag with a purse on her side.

"Who the fuck-" Daryl started to say out of his mouth as the girl walked up breathing heavy, "holy shit bro" she said as everyone looked at her.

She looked behind her, wondering what everyone was looking at "what we looking at?" she asked confused "who are you" Rick asked as he put his hand on his gun.

"oop- lets chill... okay?" she said giggling nervously, "my name is y/n and I was just walking and I saw the camp." she shifted from side to side as everyone just stared at her.

"Well welcome to our camp, your more than welcome to stay pretty girl," Carol walked up and smiled at her "I'm Carol."

The young girl smiled at the older lady, "thank you Carol!"

Rick and Daryl silently watched the scene unfold, Daryl was looking the girl up almost drooling at the sight of her, her pretty brown legs, her slicked back ponytail, the way the skims fit her body.

"Daryl wipe ya mouth for me real quick!" t-dog and Glenn laughed together as Daryl muttered profanities under his breath and walked off.

The conversation between Carol and the girl continued, not even paying attention to the boys. "Well as of right now.. we don't have any tents and there's like three to a tent and there is only one tent that only has two people.." Carol rambled.

Y/n nodded her head and followed Carol to the tent, "you're going to have to share this with Rick and Daryl.. at least for right now till we go on another run" Carol said and motioned for y/n to follow her to a table where two boys were sitting.

"Y/n, this is Rick and Daryl your temporary roommates! their very sweet and respectful guys," carol spoke but y/n wasn't listening she was just staring at the two man before her.

She was already having unholy thoughts about Rick's beard tickling her legs as he-

Y/n's thoughts were interrupted by Carol when she whispered in y/n's ear, "you don't wanna get on Daryl's bad side so I suggest you stay out of his way and rick is going through something with his wife so don't be surprised if he's cold towards you." Y/n nodded her head and waved at the two.

"Its nice to meet you guys, Im y/n, I promise not to be your way" she smiled at the two, only Rick returned the smile.

Carol walked y/n back to the tent she would be staying in and left her alone, they ended up putting a cot in the tent next to two other cots.

Y/n sat up her side of the tent with pink and sparkly things, the blanket on her cot was pink and so was her pillow. She re-organized her bookbag and sat it in the corner.

She pulled out her phone and portable charger turning her phone on to watch TikTok, it was currently 10:40 and Carol called everyone out to eat.

Y/n walked out the tent with her same skims on but changed her Asics to her pink Kurt slides, she walked up to everyone sitting in a circle and sat next to a young boy.

"Hi I'm carl" the boy put his hand out to the girl, y/n reached her hand out and shook it. "I like your nails!" Carl smiled and held her hand for a bit as her admired her pink duck nails.

"Thank you! I do them myself" she smiled "foreal?" he asked, letting her hand go in the process.

She nodded her head and looked at everyone that was staring at her, "so y/n.." Andrea started "what's your story?"

Y/n looked around, "well I'm from Las Vegas.. I came to Atlanta to visit when the apocalypse started," Rick looked her up and down "how did you survive alone out there?" he asked.

"My dad is a cop, he taught me a few survival things" she giggled "he also had alot of guns." she stopped real quick, got up and ran to her tent.

Everyone was confused but she came back with her bookbag, she pulled out a pink hand gun.

"Why the fuck is it pink?' Daryl spoke "well first off.. I like pink and secondly I hate the color black so.."

"Your so interesting.." Andrea said "yea I get that alot" y/n said admiring the gun.

"How old are you y/n" t-dog asked as he ate the stew Carol made, "I'm 21, my birthday just passed." She smiled at him and he nodded his head.

AFTER AWHILE OF SITTING BY THE FIRE AND GETTING TO KNOW Y/N EVERYONE HEADED TO BED, dale let y/n use the bathroom in the RV to get ready for bed.

Y/n walked out the RV in hellokitty pants and a white cropped tee, she walked to where carols tent was and saw Carol was with her husband and daughter.

"Good night Carol, thank you for everything" y/n smiled and Carol smiled back but her smile quickly dropped after her husband gave her a stern look.

Y/n looked at him with a stank look, "the fuck be wrong" y/n thought. Before y/n left the tent she blew a small kiss at Carol and her daughter.

While y/n was walking to her tent she saw Rick's wife, who she learned was Lori and Rick's friend, shane sneaking into the woods.

"This is a weird ass place," she thought as she shook her head. Y/n walked to her tent saying her good nights to everyone.

She got into the tent and saw Daryl and Rick staring straight at her, "well shit, I got something on my face?" she giggled, Rick slowly shook his head.

"Oh-" she was going to say something but was interrupted, "what the fuck is your deal?" Daryl asked rudely but y/n only laughed.

"Fuck is you talking about?" she asked in the same tone. "You popped up outta' nowhere with ya' lil expensive clothes and ya bags."

Y/n rolled her eyes, Rick only watched the interaction from his cot, "you sure nobody sent you?" Daryl asked "nigga- who the fuck would have sent me?" y/n pulled her phone out of one of her purses and set it up, taking a scarf out of her black bag.

She pulled up her camera and tied the scarf around her fresh edges, "I mean I don't know-" Daryl stated sarcastically as he moved his hands in the air.

Y/n just laughed at him and turned her phone off to charge, "no one sent me dummy."

She layed in her cot and got under her cover, "goodnight boys." She smiled and rolled over.

"Oh and Daryl next time you wanna drool over me-" she turned around "dont do it when I'm around love."

[vinylfoxbooks]

November 11 - Adore | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 1,055

“How did you know that you loved Remus?” Regulus hums, poking at his food. A part of him hates this, hates that they were ever put through a situation where they’re awkward just sitting on a couch together eating. He hates that they have to put in effort to bridge the gap and have a peaceful relationship. But hating it doesn’t mean he won’t try. 

Sirius hums, looking up at him from where he was intently watching his own food, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean you- you risked everything for Remus. You risked our parents for him, how did you know that was something you… how did you know that the sacrifice was worth it?”

It’s a while before Sirius pulls together a response, long enough that Regulus almost regrets asking, before he sharply inhales and puts his plate down on the coffee table. He moves so he’s sitting cross-legged facing Regulus, “As long as I’ve known him, even before we were dating, I knew there was something special about him. I didn’t… I didn’t know what it was at that point, and it took me a long time to learn that I could like boys, which he and James were the ones to teach me that, but there was something that was… pulling me to him. I always wanted to sit next to him, I always wanted to know his opinions on something that I liked, and I always wanted his approval.” 

He takes a couple seconds to take a sip of water, giving Regulus the time to put his own dishes on the coffee table, before he clears his throat again, “Then we started dating and… I don’t know, I don’t think I loved him when we first got together but then… I just spent time with him, we were going on dates, we were more open with each other and-” Sirius smiles softly, looking down at his lap, “I can’t explain how it feels, loving him. It’s… warm, and comforting, and a little scary because I don’t know how to let people love me… It starts in my chest and just… warms my body. Also it… it wasn’t like a dawning realisation, but more one of those things where he said something and I thought, ‘Merlin, I love him’ and that was that.” They’re both silent for a moment, and Regulus takes the time to watch over his brother’s expression and body language, he acts like he’s comfortable, and he has a sweet smile on his face that Regulus only saw for the first time when he saw his brother with Remus. 

And then he takes a second to look over at the previous night. James had come over to the flat to spend some time with Remus and Sirius, and they had managed to coerce him out of his room, which Sirius was greatly confused at. Then, at the end of the night, Remus and Sirius ‘tucked in’ for the night early, leaving James and Regulus alone. While not common, this did happen sometimes, and James was quick to splay themself out over the couch that they now had to themself and grab the remote from the coffee table to put on a random show that they’ve both watched before. 

And James had asked him a question, something stupid, like they usually do to get him more comfortable around them, get him talking. And then they’d laugh at something that they said and warmth would bloom in Regulus’ chest. And the two would talk and they’d joke and James would sometimes make comments on the show after lapsing into silence, usually a stupid comment that would get Regulus to insult them. And it was comfortable, and it was warm. 

Regulus shakes his head to distract himself from his thoughts, “And how did you know that leaving mum and dad for him would be… worth it?” This is dangerous territory, Regulus knows this. While they’re both getting better with conversations like this, a lot of the time they end up screaming at each other when they get on the topic of Sirius leaving.

Sirius seems to know this too, because he takes a second to think of his words before speaking, “It wasn’t just Remus. You and I both know that I could’ve run to his, but I went to the Potter’s. Because Effie and Monty and James, their house, made me feel that same comfortable, but scary, warmth. That was love, watching Effie and Monty dance in the kitchen was love. And I figured that… if I felt the same thing with Remus as I did watching Effie and Monty then, that meant Remus and I could be Effie and Monty, right?”

He shakes his head, “I was scared, I was so scared, but I just held that warmth close to my chest. I didn’t really know if it would be worth it, if Remus and I would stay together, but I believed that it could be.” 

Regulus nods after a couple seconds, “I think I know what you’re talking about.” 

“Do you?” Sirius looks shocked for a moment, “For someone in particular or?” 

“Maybe,” the younger says after a second or two, “It’s… it’s for James, maybe?” He furrows his brows, “But that could also be because I know what you’re talking about at the Potters’ house.” 

“James?” Sirius says after a beat of silence, “How long?”

“I don’t know…” he shakes his head, “James and I hang out when you and Remus leave and they…”

“They adore you.” Sirius smiles softly, reaching out and offering a hand, but not touching Regulus. He takes his brother’s hand. The older shakes his head, “I don’t know how they’d feel about me telling you that and I don’t know if it’s more than just James being really affectionate towards everyone but… I know that you’re special to them.” And his words make Regulus’ chest fill with a comforting warmth… he smiles softly and Sirius seems to know what that means, “Take your time with it.” And Regulus just nods, thinking back on all the nights that the two of them were left alone. On the way that Regulus had a weird obsession with James since they properly met. 

“Thank you, Siri.” 

At that, Sirius pulls Regulus into a hug, “Anytime, Reg.”

[jaune-submissive-and-breedable]

When Blake took over the White Fang and convinced Jaune to work for her, to show how humans and faunus can get along, he thought that was a wonderful idea. Instead she makes him do these demeaning things, like he is the pet. And he won't complain, since people might take that as him being "racist". So he has to do stuff like wearing something revealing, letting her sit on his face like a throne, worshipping her perfect ass, etc. Go wild.

As he walked through the WF base corridors, Jaune contemplated his true worth in the organization. Despite his tactical genius and quick-witted planning, Blake and the other WF members treated him like a second-class citizen. Often talking down to him, ignoring his suggestions, and even treating him like a pet. While he was sure it was because he was human, he could wrap his head around some of the other issues he had within the white fang.

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

"Umm...Blake...isn't this outfit.....a bit too revealing?"

The outfit he wore comprised of small black shorts that clung to his groin creating a bulging outline of his cock, a small black bow tie around his neck, a pair of cufflinks around his wrists, and a pair of blondie bunny ears sat atop his head. All the while a deep crimson blush covered his face.

"You're fine. It's just something to help you fit in better" she assured him, discreetly licked her lips hungrily.

He shuffled a bit but ultimately believed her words. "If you say so..."

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

The new and revealing uniform was only the start. Soon after he got it, she began ordering him to perform various tasks for her like carrying some documents, massaging her feet, or rubbing her back. Simple and innocent tasks, but not very WF-related. Then she caught him off guard by asking him to massage her rear.

"Hmm...Just like that" she moaned

His large hand kneaded her pale cheeks like dough, rubbing and squeezing them gently with his fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He tried his best to avoid staring for too long as she decided to forgo pants, leaving her ass exposed save for a tiny thong that barely covered anything. Each time he spread her cheeks, he caught glimpses of her puckered asshole, twitching with arousal.

"I.....Is this....fine?" He asked a massive blush on his face.

"Yes, it is~" Blake purred. "But~..."

She partially turned around, lifting her upper body so she could look at him better. "It would be even better is you could kiss it"

Jaune nearly did a spit-take at her request. Asking her to repeat herself. she confirmed that she wanted him to literally kiss her ass. He was hesitant at first, but seeing her pleading amber eyes broke him. Swallowing his pride and nervousness, he leaned down and planted a quick kiss on one of her cheeks. Just as he was about to raise himself up, he felt Blake's hand swiftly push him back down. His mouth landing directly on her asshole.

He yelped in shock, his cry vibrating against her twitching hole. Looking upwards he saw Blake staring at him, lust in her eyes.

"you call that a kiss? You can do better than that~"

While he was sure she was teasing, Jaune felt threatening under-tones in her voice. Obeying her command, he puckered his lips once more and began kissing her asshole. Occasionally licking it with his tongue causing it to pucker up even more. Blake laid her down pleased with his actions, moaning and commenting on how good he was. they continued like this for 30 minutes until she let him up and kissed his cheek as thanks.

"What the heck Blake?!" he complained, the faunus rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Calm down, Jaune. It was in the heat of the moment you know. Besides, I know you liked it" She retorted. His silence and massive blush confirmed her suspicions.

"Well...um...Just.....don't do that again please" he begged, "it's kinda embarrassing"

She nodded and smirked, clearly unintending to obey his wishes.

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

Over time, Jaune and Blake's relationship became a bit more personal.

Jaune moaned as he leaned against the hallway wall. To his left, Blake leaned into him with a smile, her right hand reaching into his shorts and groping his cock.

"Blake..." he panted "Someone might..."

She ignored his warnings, instead licking her lips as she felt his pre-cum covering her hand. Her fingers delicately squeezed his length in a vice-like grip, using his pre for lube, she began stroking him off from within the confines of his shorts, his pre-cum creating a dark stain inside his shorts. Hearing his moans, she purred with delight, keeping at a steady pace as she felt his squirm from her grasp.

"Let them...." She purred, "As high leader, they would care if I play with my pet......I mean partner in public~"

Jaune raised an eye at her comment. *did she just say pet*

He wanted to ask, but her sudden increased grip caused him to cry out in shock and pleasure. She nearly came when he looked at her, his face covered in blush and panting like a dog. without warning, she wrapped her free hand around his head and pulled him into a deep kiss, moaning delightedly as he came into her hand. Blake pulled away and looked down, marveling at the volume of cum, most of it leaking from his shorts onto the ground.

"Wow...You cum more than a horse faunus" She complimented.

Raising her cum cover hand to her face, she took a quick lick, humming pleased with its taste. It was fairly sweet and kinda tart too, the diet she put him on worked wonders for his taste. She started walking away from the scene, giving her hand a tongue bath along the way.

"Also you should clean yourself up before someone finds you. It a shame if they saw you came on yourself." she teaseded

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

Jaune sighed, those, at least to him, were the most tame incomparison to some of the other tasks he's done. though he'd be lying if he said he didn't somewhat enjoy himself.

[koiiiso]

|A Thief’s Life|: Prologue.

Warnings: Violence, Language, Nudity, Zaun as a whole, and other factors.

Masterlist

AFAB READER/SEVIKA.

Reader is based upon Kay Vess(Star Wars Outlaws.)

A/N: This is my first time writing a fan-fiction, especially one like this so please bear with me.

You were standing, staring right at them. Two corpses laid in front of you, a female and a male. He wore an enforcer’s uniform, her rags of clothes were torn.

His blood stained your hands as the rage finally left you. You killed a man. And he killed her. In this place, the place that was supposed to be your new home. Her eyes once warm and empathetic, now bore empty, lifeless.

Wake up.

Wake up.

WAKE UP.

…

An alarm etched within the silence of the room. One eye opened, the other followed, the ceiling of your room, it was metallic, that of a bar’s spare room, yet it was your own.

You sit up, reaching for the alarm. The wails were that of necessity yet annoyance. Once you reach over and turn it off, the silence engulfed you, peace overtook the small room.

A soft pitter-patter interrupted your silence. The cat’s paws softly announced the arrival of your companion, Nix.

He’s been with you since you were that of a child, when you were either ignorant or naive, likely both.

You stand up, heading over to your dresser, now pulling out a fresh pair of pants and a white blouse. It was a standard outfit, nothing special or fancy, just something simple to work in.

You fold it up, placing it on the bed before walking into the bathroom. The shower was shitty but it was better than nothing. You managed to ‘borrow’ a nice pair of shampoo and conditioner from Topside.

You stripped down, setting the clothes in the hamper before stepping into the shower and turning on the water.

Cold.

Seems like you’ll never have warmth, never meant for it.

You shake your head in thought, that dream has forever plagued you, perhaps it always will.

Water sprayed down onto you, running down your chest, to your stomach, then legs, finally reaching the floor. That always seemed to be the water’s fate. Used for cleanliness and discarded just as quickly.

As you cleaned yourself, the sounds of the Undercity’s noise made their way into the room. The city waking up as you once did. A sigh escaped you, another long day awaiting you.

…

You finished your shower, now standing in front of your sink, staring at the mirror. You observed your features. Your hair was getting too long for your liking. You were starting to look like her.

You grab your razor.

Time to fuck up your hair.

The first area you aim for was your bangs, using a comb to brush it out and have one specific area for you to cut. You take the blade and start to create fiction to cut it, and soon enough, they were shorter.

Instead of cutting the back of your hair, you just pull it up. Moving on from your hair, you observe the scars that litter your naked form.

With a sigh you make your exit, heading to the bed to dress yourself. The basic outfit was practical enough. It fit, not too tight or too loose, it just fit.

Once dressed you head over to the bowl on the floor. Empty. And the culprit is right next to you.

Nix gently rubbed his chin against your leg, letting out a ‘meow’, a signal that he longed for food. With a grown you pour the rest of the cat food into the bowl, now noticing that barely any is left. Well now you have to do a gig for money. There weren’t many more merchants in Zaun, not since Shimmer was introduced into the scene, many of those who sold the things you frequently used your expenses on fell deep into the substance. It was sad but you wouldn’t blame them. It was an escape for them, one you vowed to not fall into.

The reason for the vow was two things. One, stay out of anything related to Silco and his people, death seemed to follow that man, he was a kingpin after all, a ruler in an unrelenting game. The second was because you didn’t truly trust the substance or yourself on it. Would you hurt Nix? You would never know.

You grab your jacket and messenger bag as Nix climbed into the bag. He went everywhere with you, even if there was food in his bowl.

The two of you head out the door and down the stairs, into the main bar area of the building. The bar was mainly for those older folks who couldn’t handle the flashing lights and such from The Last Drop and didn’t like the brothel’s bars within Zaun.

You head over to the counter, and standing before you was the dear man who was like a father to you, Joel. He was a young man when he started to rent out the room to you and your sister.

May Janna rest her soul.

Eventually you bought it with your savings, just to avoid rent.

Regardless of the past, you were here now, that you remind yourself.

Joel soon noticed you, passing a sandwich to you. “Hey, got a job listing for you,”

“Let’s hear it,” You nod, taking the sandwich into your hands, unwrapping it.

“They want you to steal some documents from The Last Drop, there is rumored to be an office with a safe inside. Steal the documents then come back, and I’ll give you the address for the drop off,” Joel informed.

“Steal from that place? What’s it pay?” You asked, bringing the sandwich up to your lips and taking a bite.

“A damn lot, enough to get you halfway to that goal of yours to leave Zaun,” Joel shrugged, now wiping down the countertop.

“I guess I’ll take it then,” You confirmed. “When do I go in and steal?” You take another bite, looking up to him.

“They didn’t specify a time,” He added.

Well then, you suppose you have a job.

If only you know exactly what you were getting into to.