#there’s other books but i don’t those are like red flags

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

id lovee to hear ur rankings of the comic book men from appearing to be the most normal to something is obviously wrong w them (if that makes sense... like,,,, who is and isnt an obv red flag)

ur writing keeps me fed :3

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐒…

!!! GN reader, manipulation, gaslighting, mentions of stalker-ish picture-taking, mentions of schizophrenia and anxiety, poor treatment of mental illness, mentions of violent behaviors, murderous Bucky Barnes, Tim Drake (he’s just a problem), mentions of suicidal tendencies, can be translated as platonic or romantic.

EAAAAATT!!!!! EEEEAAAAATTTT!!!!!!!!! EAT MY WRITING!!!! CONSUME IT!!!!!!!!!!!

Remember, this is from least to most, meaning we’ll talk about the seemingly well-adjusted folks first and gradually move up to the, “okay, what the fuck is wrong with him” peeps.

Wally West: The way he’s playing everyone like a fiddle is downright disrespectful. He’s filled to the brim with green flags, easily appearing as one of the safest guys on the planet. Even when you start to suspect something, you have to constantly second guess yourself, because come on… it’s Wally. What the fuck can he do wrong? Don’t even bother voicing any of your concerns. No one — and I mean no one — will believe you. Having problems with Wally West? The embodiment of a warm summer evening? Damn, that sounds like a you problem. Poor Wally, having to deal with a crazy weirdo.

Dick Grayson: He’s got an amazing personality and pretty privilege working for him. At this rate, the masses manipulate themselves. Only those who are extremely perceptive will pick up on the cold glint in his eyes, and even then, the mystique only adds to his charm. By the time you realize he’s been hiding a darker side, it’s too late. Everyone’s too captivated by how endearing Dick is to hear you out. Even those who know him personally — who know about his struggles and rough patches — think you’re full of shit. Dick’s an emotionally mature man, so why don’t you just talk it out with him?

Steve Rogers: This is a bit unfair, considering the leverage he’s granted as Captain America, but hey… work what you got. While it may seem obvious to you that he’s way too overbearing and protective, good luck trying to get other people on your side. Everyone else thinks it’s a part of his 40s charm. Social norms were just different back then; why can’t you be more appreciative of his old-fashioned care? Besides, you’re probably overreacting. Is it really that bad? Steve is the leader of the Avengers, so maybe you’re just taking his authoritative demeanor the wrong way.

Clark Kent: I’m gonna be so for real, any man from a fuckass state like Kansas is going to come with some personality quirks. People will probably give him the benefit of the doubt by default. Just a farm boy trying to navigate the big city and can’t even hurt a fly. Sure, he can be odd at times, but nothing makes him an inherently bad guy. This is the same man that helps old people cross the street, for god’s sake! He most definitely means well, it’s just a matter of setting boundaries with him. What’s the worst he can do?

Remy LeBeau: Despite what differing opinions may say about The Gambit, Remy seems like he’s got his head on his shoulders. His “red flags” are more on the blurry side. Do you count excessive flirting as a red flag? What about hiding behind charisma and a fake ego instead of going to therapy? Some people may say yes, others no. But in terms of glaring red flags, Remy’s relatively clean. We’ve all got our issues, no? Being a thief doesn’t make you a psycho. That being said, due to Remy’s shifty past, people may be more inclined to listen should you ever express that something’s wrong.

Peter Parker: Honestly… he’s a bit of a weirdo. Nothing obvious at first, but the longer you know him, the more behaviors you may pick up on that make you go, “oh… well… that’s weird”. Take his Polaroid obsession, for example. He’s got at least one photo in every jacket pocket, dozens in his wallet, and a fuck ton in his desk. Poor guy accidentally spilled them all over the ground once, which naturally sparked rumors. But Peter’s a sweetheart. Clingy, but still a sweetheart. Maybe he’s just a little messed up due to everything he’s lost in his life.

Bruce Wayne: Okay. Red flags in the playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne? Absolutely unheard of. He’s an absolute angel. According to all of the stan accounts out there, he could do nothing wrong. But red flags in the real Bruce Wayne? Where do we even begin. Distrusting as fuck, paranoid, argumentative, the occasional fit of violence, a known manipulator and liar… want me to keep going, because I can. It’s very hard to rank Bruce due to the ginormous contrast between general public opinion and those who actually know him, so he goes smack in the middle. Billionaire Bruce Wayne would never be a horrible person to you, but the real Bruce Wayne 100% would.

Jaime Reyes: Because of how mental illness is stigmatized, Jaime’s unfortunately labeled to be dangerous. But it’s not really his fault. That damn scarab has him muttering to himself like a crackhead, and naturally assumptions will be made. When actually given a chance, people will learn that Jaime’s a nice kid. He just probably struggles with schizophrenia or really bad anxiety. Yes, his paranoia can get bad, but again; mental illness. He’s never proven himself to a threat, despite what others may think. He just needs help (but there’s no way to combat the manipulation of Khaji Da. Jaime lost that battle the moment he became Blue Beetle).

Hal Jordan: Oh, yeah. He’s got red flags alright. But they’re mostly normal ones, like his ego and horrendous stubborn streak. Lots of guys out there are like that, and are they considered freaks? No. Well, not all of them. However, it is a bit concerning that he’s willing to throw hands at the drop of a hat. Bro’s one major freak out away from catching assault charges like they’re Pokémon. But if it’s any consolation, it should be noted that he hasn’t gotten into major legal trouble. On Earth. Yet. Some call him rough around the edges, others call him a severely troubled individual. Either way, he definitely needs to seek professional help.

Scott Summers: MAJOR red flags. He’s an overbearing control freak that really needs to work on his… well… his everything. Emotional intelligence, temper, daddy issues… yeah, no. He’s an amazing leader, but probably someone you should steer clear from otherwise. Most wouldn’t be surprised if you two were having issues. It’s not like he wears all of his problems on his sleeve; the iceberg goes much deeper than that. Though he sure as hell doesn’t present himself as a well-adjusted member of society. Proceed at your own risk. Don’t say you weren’t warned, because you probably were.

Bucky Barnes: This is the opposite of Captain America’s case. His reputation as the Winter Soldier kind of skews the perception of him to be a walking red flag. And you know, he really is. Bucky is extremely dangerous. Down to snap necks anytime, anywhere, no amount of charm or endearing quirks will make people feel fully safe around him. His history of violence did not stop post-brainwashing. And it’s not like he’s hiding it, either. There’s this crazed gleam in his eyes that just screams “fuck around and find out,” no matter what his mood is. Who in their right mind would involve themself with THE Winter Soldier?! Yeah, no shit you’re having issues with him. He is an issue.

Tim Drake: Bro is the epitome of “you’re scaring the hoes.” He could be walking down the street — face neutral, hands in his pockets — and total strangers will get the sense that something is deeply wrong with him. The aura around him exudes the reddest of flags. Yes, his face and intelligence are attractive, but even those who have fallen for his pretty boy swag can’t help but sigh dreamily and think, “he really needs to be institutionalized.” Disturbing humor. Creepy staring. Mood swings. Suicidal tendencies. Sadomasochism to the max. The list goes on and on and on. If Dead Dove: Do Not Eat was a person, it’d be him. What were you expecting? It’s Tim fucking Drake.

[lilgynt]

my room is becoming so much more of a red flag like that’s a power drill on my bed frame i just slept with and then my bedside desk is literally over filling with books (night bitch sharp objects two separate books by camus catcher in the rye and then like. four books on hannibal and that’s only bc the others are already read or in my bag) and i unironically have three copies of silence of the lambs

[torpublishinggroup]

"Warning Signs Your Machines Are Trying to Kill You!" by TJ Klune

(Legally, I’m required to tell you that when smart phones first became popular, I bought one and then asked for the address of the app store because I thought it was a physical location I had to go to in order to download apps and not something already on your phone. Also, I was recently told I speak like an old person so as a warning, there will not be any slang you youths typically hear, especially on Tumblr. Any slang I’ve learned in the last five years has been against my will. I still don’t know what FOMO means, and I don’t care.)

1. Oh no! You and your family are trying to enjoy a movie night, but Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) wants a sacrifice at the altar of their god, BeeZos. Should this happen, do not attempt to give Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) a cantaloupe with googly-eyes on it and say that it is your baby. Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) knows the difference between fruit and children. Instead, ask the machine to order dog food, and it will forget about eating humans for a little while.

2. If you own a very fancy vehicle that can drive itself, always make sure to carry a brick. That way, when the car locks you inside and attempts to drive you off a cliff into a gas station, you can break the window using the brick. You will then have to jump out, but make sure you do so in time so you can watch the wicked-ass explosion when the car hits the gas station, and you can revel in your victory over your car.

3. This one will hurt. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Chances are, you’re reading this on your phone right this second. To be safe, after you’ve finished reading this post and have clicked on the affiliated links to purchase my books, you should throw your phone into a volcano and then move to South Dakota where there are no machines, only wind and cows. That way, when everyone else gets the 5GZombieVirus that people on Twitter (I’m not calling it the other thing, shut up) seem to think is real, you’ll be safe with your cows on a windy day.

4. Get rid of your air fryer. Don’t ask me why, just do it. Red flags all around. Danger, danger.

5. Do you know of the Clapper? That thing first launched in the late 20th century (I wrote it that way to make me feel old) where the commercials showed cranky old people unable to reach their light switches, so they got a thing called a Clapper that turns your lights on and off when you clap? Guess what? Those will be the first things to try and kill you. If you love your gram-gram, save her from the Clapper. When she asks why you are destroying it with an ax, tell gram-gram it’s because you love her.

6. Do you live in a smart home? The kind where everything is connected to the internet, including your refrigerator? The refrigerator that holds your perishable foods? And oh, would you look at that: how many ice cubes have you kicked under it rather than picking them up when they fall to the floor? A dozen? A million? The refrigerator remembers. And it will spoil your food in seconds. What then? What are you going to eat? Canned food? Not if the refrigerator falls on top of you!

Unfortunately for you, this is where it must end. I hope this has given you enough information to help you survive the inevitable. If you do not heed my warnings, well. Who cares. I’m not in charge of you. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come complaining to me when gram-gram gets the clap.

[nightpool]

If you are an auditor, and you call up the chief financial officer of the company you are auditing and ask “hey when is a convenient time for me to come to your office to review the books,” and he replies “no, no office, parking lot,” and you say “okay I’ll drive to your office and you’ll come down—” and he says “oh no, not our parking lot, a different parking lot,” and you meet him in a parking lot 40 miles from his office, and he hands you printouts of the financial statements and drives away, how should you begin your audit? Which of the financial statements is most likely to contain red flags or discrepancies to be addressed? I feel like the answer is “the parking lot”? If I were auditing those financial statements, most of my questions would not be about technical accounting matters but “why are we meeting in a parking lot again?”

Here is a story about the CFO of the Detroit Riverfront Conservancy, William Smith, who was arrested last week for allegedly stealing $40 million from the nonprofit:

"Mr. Smith’s grip on the nonprofit’s finances was so tight that even the nonprofit’s accountant, charged with tracking spending, could not log into one of the group’s bank accounts. Only Mr. Smith had the password. He gave her the bank statements on paper and met her only four times a year, in the parking lot of a Honey Baked Ham store 40 miles from the office. […]

"Brian Mittendorf, a professor who studies nonprofit accounting at Ohio State University, said that the conservancy’s official documents show that it took steps to safeguard its finances — including oversight from its board of directors and annual audits.

"‘All these things sound as if it’s an organization with a pretty robust review in place. On the other hand, only one person can access the money, and provides paper copies in a Honey Baked Ham parking lot?’ Mr. Mittendorf said. ‘Those sound like the opposite of a robust governance mechanism.’"

As it happens, Smith allegedly altered the bank statements by “[removing] the payments to himself and [replacing] them with fake payments to other vendors.” I still don’t fully understand the parking lot, though? Like you can meet the accountant in your office to hand over the doctored paper financial statements; just unplug your computer first. I just feel like meeting in the parking lot sends a pretty strong message of “I AM DOING CRIME” that you might want to avoid, if you are doing crime.

[freebreadmoon]

is there anyway you can write a cute, fluffy little story for Walker Scobell?

YES OMG I HAVENT BEEN ACTIVE BC I HAVE MIDTERMS

warnings: fluff, reader plays annabeth (i love leah dont come for me), no use of y/n, reader and walker aren’t dating but are obvi crushing

requests are open!!

You and Walker were filming a buzzfeed puppy interview, sitting in the middle of the floor.

Walker sat with his legs crisscrossed, smiling wide at the brown spotted dog that nuzzled his leg. “Is it on? Oh, hi, I’m Walker Scobell, and I play Percy Jackson.”

“Hi,” you introduced yourself, “I play Annabeth Chase,” you picked up the fluffy fured black one that was by your foot, “and your watching buzzfeed!” You put a thumbs up at the camera, earning a laugh from the boy beside you.

“Wait I wanted to say it, I’m literally the main character—“

“But I’m the best character. Walker, you can say it at Vanity Fair.” He rolled his eyes at you, smiling slightly.

“Okay, moving on! um…what’s the question? What was your favorite scene to film…um…oh thats a hard one. I’m gonna say…either the fight with the Ares kids in capture the flag, or falling out of the arch. The harness thing was annoying to put on, but the other parts were fun.” Walker was only half paying attention, preoccupied by the dogs.

“I think the tunnel of love scene, or the one where Annabeth pushes Percy in the water, ‘cause I got to push Walker really hard.” You glanced at him, watching the smile curl onto his face.

“Yeah. We did like 15 takes of that because she kept laughing.” Walker laughed, shaking his head. “Actually, she laughed a lot. We had to retake lots of stuff ‘cause of her, especially the tunnel of love scene. The boat flipped and she wouldn’t stop laughing.” He shifted closer to you, messing with the puppy you’re holding.

“Oh! the next question…what’s your opinion on each other? Um…walker is the best blonde dude ever i think. like he’s literally my kid i swear, and he was honestly the best choice for percy. i think he’s the reason i even got to be annabeth, im really greatful for him. Aryan is super sweet and cool, he’s my best best friend, we do the stupidest things together, and I can’t imagine a world we aren’t honorary siblings.” You scratched behind a puppy’s ear, letting it lick you.

“Well I was just gonna say you’re awesome but…I guess I think we make a great team on-screen as well as off-screen. She’s a true friend. If it weren't for her, I don't know what I'd do, y'know? She’s like my very own real life Annabeth." He glanced up at you subtly, wanting to gauge your reaction, smiling in victory when he noticed the red tint to your cheeks.

“The…the next one says, how do you feel about fan support? is it overwhelming? Well, my answer is yes, sometimes. Especially with people who are really like into the book to the point where they hated the casting over looks.” You had started to speak a lot quieter as Walker drifted closer, trying to get the puppy off your lap.

“I don’t think much of it.” Walker shurgs. “Only really the edits that I see anyway, those are fun.” He smiles encouragingly at you , finally meeting your eyes.

“…Yeah. The edits.” You smile at him, referring to the ship edits. You’d talked about it in multiple interviews, and you had a favorites folder for them on Tiktok. You raised an eyebrow at Walker, who continued to move closer until his head was on your lap, giggling softly and starting pet his hair like you did the puppys fur.

“Okay, last question…have there been any memorable moments on set? Um…probably when i first met her. I just got the feeling she was gonna be Annabeth, she gave me this ‘what is he doing?’ Look, and it just clicked.” He stayed with his head on your lap, turning so his head is on your stomach when puppies come and attack him with licks.

“They think you’re one of them!” You push him off a little so the puppies can get to him. “And my answer…um…I think when Walker gave me the piece of banana that was in my hair in the show. He kinda just tied it in and left my set trailer, and it stuck. So if you guys wondered what the weird blue fabric in Annabeth’s hair was, it was not in fact a design choice, it was a Percy choice.” You turn so the camera can see the small braid in your hair with the bandanna piece at the end.

“And Percy’s got one too, if you look hard enough.” He lifts one of his feet, showing the vans he wore during filming, and the flimsy piece of bandanna tied through his top shoe hole. You shake your head, laughing at his insistence in staying with his head in your lap.

While you layed on his bed, you scrolled through your fyp, stopping when you see the familiar scene of you two in the buzzfeed room, with his head in your lap. Nodding your head to the song in the edit as you scrolled through the comments.

“IRL percabeth?” He questioned from beside you. You looked at him, not realizing he had started paying attention to you, jumping to get your phone from him.

“No, I’m commenting! And reposting!” He laughed, rolling away from you. You got off the bed behind him, giving up taking the phone and blinking when he simply commented ‘real’.

“Well, so much for ‘it’ll blow over’.” You rolled your eyes, knowing the dating allegations will only get worse after this. Walker smiled triumphantly, waiting for the responses to come in.

taglist: @persassyxo @diorlorenzo @ilovewalkerscobell @paytonthereader @platypusbearrr @kissatelier @riptidelor

[berzahoes]

manifestation, baby! | tom blyth

summary: fans find out tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes (and she definitely manifested her life)

an: the way i thought about this idea and quickly wrote it down so i didn’t forget it. i used to have an app that made those fake tweets but i’m just tired to make fake profiles 😭 maybe i’ll change it later idk

for the purpose of this imagine, let’s pretend tbosas book was published between 2017-2019

liked by zeglerslove, 444_bri and 35,377 others

tomblythxsnow apparently tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviews books and she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes and she literally manifested her future 😭

lucymygf WHATTT WHATS HER CHANNEL NAME

tomblythxsnow it’s yn’s book corner. she hasn’t posted since 2019 ngl i need her to review a little life because that book destroyed me

nat76_ omg i used to watch her videos!! i’m still subscribed to her 😭 i remember only buying and reading the books she liked because i wanted to be her so bad

j4ckaszlol “if someone ever makes a movie adaptation of this book and casts someone attractive to play snow then i am sorry for the person i become” REALLLLL

graybairdsmockingjay dude the part where she said “i’m calling it now whoever plays young snow will be my boyfriend. movie studios always cast someone attractive as the younger version of a character!” MY JAW DROPPED SHE NEEDS TO TELL ME HER WAYS

“guess what rachel just sent me.” you heard tom say when he arrived to your shared apartment.

“wedding invitations?!” you gasped as you almost stood up from the sofa since you were watching reruns of criminal minds, but tom stopped you.

“no, it’s better!” tom sat beside you and showed you his phone. “why didn’t you tell me you had a youtube channel?” on his phone screen was your review of the ballad of songbirds and snakes, which had become a very popular video over the past couple of days.

you hid your face with a pillow and groaned. “don’t remind me. i just wanted to talk about my books and my family didn’t care. don’t watch it! it’s embarrassing!”

“i think it’s cute. aw look, your dog made a cameo!” he pointed at your old dog you used to have that walked into the frame.

“indi! no, come sit right here. oh . . . and she’s walking away. okay, anyways.” your younger self said in the video

“indi? why Indi?” tom asked you even though you were still hiding from embarrassment.

“after indiana jones. my dad and i loved those movies and he gifted me indi as a birthday present.” you confessed.

“love, don’t be embarrassed. i think it’s cute that you manifested your life according to the comments on instagram,” tom paused the video then cuddled up to you. “i won’t watch it if you don’t want me to.”

“it’s fine, i just didn’t think anyone would find it. we can watch it together.” you uncovered yourself and sat down properly to watch the video with tom. before he pressed the play button and together you watch your younger self review the book.

“i’ve read all the hunger games books at least four times and this one did not disappoint. but i do hope whoever ends up being cast as young snow is someone hot. i’m sorry it’s the rules! and they will be my boyfriend, i’m calling dibs.”

tom smirked at you. “if only younger you could see you now.”

“she would definitely think ‘wow, how did we pull this beautiful man?’ then be confused as to why the hunger games and fnaf is trending in 2023.”

liked by tomblyth, rachelzegler and 1,377,389 others

ynlovesbooks told ya. love you tomblyth ❤️

rachelzegler she is THAT girl

ynlovesbooks no u

everdeenx12 bestie he’s EVIL

ynlovesbooks he’s a walking red flag but my favorite color is red 😍

chamaletproblems pls tell me how you did this

ynlovesbooks i figured out who they were casting and kept him hostage until he agreed to be my bf

tomblyth true

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hi! Spencer Reid x reader where reader is kind of panicking because she’s worried Spencer will get tired of her and find someone that’s more like him personality wise? But then Spence reassures her that he loves her and only her? 🎀🚬🤍🤎

fem bimbo!plus size reader, wc: 589.

a/n: no i am not going to let bimbo reader sleep, but also i've been posting so much aaron recently, which is funny because i've been so obsessed with spencer recently. thank you for your request!

cw! angst :(

“I guess opposites really do attract huh?”

It was just a joke. A harmless, well meaning joke that completely spun your world off of its axis.

You were aware of the differences between you and your boyfriend, but you never felt bad about it, nor did he ever make you think that you weren't good enough for him. You would have liked to think that your differences was what made Spencer fall in love with you; but now you’re not too sure.

Yeah, sure, you needed help with understanding certain things, and your processing was a bit slower than others, but that didn’t make you stupid or annoying… right? 

What if you talked too much? What about that time that you kept interrupting Spencer while he was reading? Did you irritate him? Did he think about breaking up with you? You’d never had thoughts like these before because you never had a reason to. You always felt secure in your relationship with Spencer, like you were his equal. 

Spencer wasn’t used to your silence, it was unusual and quite frankly it raised the red flags in his mind. He was so used to your rambling about anything and everything that the quietness of his apartment was making him itch. 

“Sweetheart?” He called out softly.

It was almost as if his words scared you, your body jumping at the sound of him breaking the serene atmosphere of his almost dark academia-esque apartment. 

“Yes?” Your voice was hushed and meek and Spencer absolutely hated it.

He set his book down on the side table where he uncurled his legs and patted the spot on the couch next to him. “C’mere.” You looked almost hesitant to move, but nonetheless you got up and sat down. 

He grabbed your hand and held it firmly, but you didn’t make any effort to hold it back. It made Spencer nervous; did he do something?

“Sweetheart,” He reiterated. “Is something wrong?”

“Am I too much?” Your panic was quick to build. “What do you mean?” Spencer’s brows were furrowed inquisitively. “Like - like do I talk a lot? Or - or are my clothes too colorful? Do I ask too many questions?” Your speech fired out rapidly, almost as if you didn’t say what you wanted to know you may never do.

“Hey, hey, hey… no, no, stop.” Spencer was quick to shush you, opting to hold your face instead of your hand. “Did someone tell you that?” You shook your head, “No, yes? I don’t know. It - it was just because of that stupid joke Morgan had made.”

Ah, he remembers now.

“The one about opposites attracting?” You nod feebly. “And it got me thinking… what if I’m - what if I’m not a good match for you? You might want someone that’s similar to you,  one that knows how to play chess and understands all those super cool facts you know.” 

“Honey,” Spencer interrupts with a light laugh. “No.”

He wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at the sheer fact that he couldn’t imagine ever wanting someone else.

“I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you. I - I do admit that we are different, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I like that you aren’t like me. It’s comforting, and I just… I just love everything about you. I love you.”

“You promise?” You asked wetly with a pout. His lithe thumbs swipe at the tears trickling down your cheeks as he nodded, “Of course.”

“I love you too, Spencie.” 

There you were. His girl.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[lottiecrabie]

anatomy – matty healy

matty is supposed to tutor you in biology, but there’s another subject you’re much more interested in…

or tutor!au <3

tags: 18+, oral sex, unprotected sex, dry humping, dom/sub undertones, choking, cumplay, virgin!matty, freaky little loser guy

6802 words

You sit on top of the sheets of your bed, ankles crossed. You pop your bubblegum, flipping boredly through your Cosmo. Lipsticks, perfectly preened women, and the top ten sex tips flip in front of your eyes. You halt at the horoscope, indulgently checking yours. You’re not superstitious: it’s just that anything is better than this godforsaken lesson. 

“And, you see, the specific shape of the active site of an enzyme enables it to function,” Matty drawls on, unfaltered by your clear disinterest. Maybe he doesn’t see; his nose is pulled tightly in his book. “It’s— It’s really a simple understanding of 'lock and key'. You can think of enzyme activity as molecular collisions resulting in the formation of enzyme-substrate complexes.” All the terms blur together in your mind. In one ear, transformed and decorated by the pretty pink things on your page, then out the other. 

You almost feel bad for Matty, pushed into your room by your parents with pleading, desperate eyes to make you learn something. He sits at your desk while you distract yourself with whatever is more interesting which, as it so happens, is almost everything. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t say much to you other than hey and a string of jargon you don’t care to understand. It’s not like your bitchy, unimpressed stare is very welcoming. 

Matty has this nervous, twitchy energy about him. He stutters through half of his sentences, pushing his glasses up his nose, searching for the fixed point in his book he lost. He swallows thickly, starts again. An awkward, limby thing. 

Really, it’s a shame he wears all those nerdy shirts and drowning clothes, as well as those horrendous thick, square glasses. If you assess him objectively enough, he could be quite pretty. He’s lean, with a cutting jaw, and adorable curly hair. Girls would look away a flutter of red flags if it meant birthing kids with those traits. 

You sigh, pushing the Cosmo off your bed, rolling to your belly. You rest your chin on your crossed arms, eyeing Matty. He gives you a look at the shifting noise, rounding his eyes as they fall on the stripe of skin your loose lounging shorts have revealed in the crossfire. It’s barely a few centimeters of your asscheeks, but Matty blushes all the same, flipping back to his book as though burned. You smirk. Interesting.

“Matty,” you trail lightly, the cadence of a song. 

You found your bright new, shining distraction. Your smile is vicious and dangerous, ready to bite, to gnaw to the bone. 

Matty looks up at you, incertain. You rarely address him during your tutoring lessons. You’re not even sure you’ve said his name before, at least not to him. “I’m bored with biology,” you declare, artfully pouty and dejected. 

“Oh,” he says. He swallows thickly. Flips through his book. His nervous tics make him all the more tantalizing to you. Some cruel need to toughen him up. “Um—”

You lick your teeth, grinning. “I want to study anatomy.”

Matty laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “That’s not in the syllabus.” There’s something about his total misunderstanding of your line that makes the need frizzle inside of you. An innocent little thing, to pick and devour through. 

You sit up, resting your weight on your heels. Your knees part suggestively, the loose shorts riding up your thighs. Your crop top sits up your ribs. Belly button piercing winks at him. Matty takes in the sight, face pale. You grin, victorious.  

“I didn’t mean that anatomy,” you say, teasing. You rest a hand loosely on your leg, purposefully dragging his stare down to it. Your pink nails flash against your skin. 

“Oh.” He swallows thickly, hypnotized by the soft flesh of your thighs. “I—” He shakes his head, as if to draw himself out of the daydream. “I, um—” He repeats, then laughs, “What?”

You sigh, kneeling up and getting off the bed. Your bare feet wiggle in the fuzzy, pink carpet. You prowl to him, predator-like. His breath hitches in his throat, right where you want it. 

“Matty,” you sing, and he chokes at the sound. Just his name drives him wild— good to know. You get close enough to lean on the desk, to tower over him. He blinks up at you, robbed of speech. You flutter your eyelashes at him. “Are you a virgin?” 

His lips part in surprise, but he doesn’t answer. Not that he needs to; the fucking sight of him is enough to know. It’s about the fun of watching him stumble, stutter, push his little glasses up his nose, telltale signs you revel in. 

You sit on the desk, bunching his careful notes. You trail two fingers up his shoulder, that awful cheap plaid. You almost resent the feel of it on your skin, if not for the way he shivers. 

You pout mockingly at him, stopping where the collar of his shirt meets the skin of his neck. “Are you gonna answer me?” 

“Yeah— yes.” You run your fingertips on his neck, a grazing touch that has him staring up at you in devotion. You smirk. 

“Have you ever been touched like this?” You run your thumb to the other side of his neck, a strong path. You want him to feel it, until your hand stretches over his throat, possessive. 

He swallows under your palm, Adam’s apple bobbing on your fortune-telling palm lines. “No,” he admits quietly. You feel it resonate more than you hear it. 

You hum, silently thrilled. “And have you ever been kissed?” You whisper. 

Matty stares up at you. He waits a second, two— takes his time. “No.” You smirk. You pick your gum between two fingers, pressing it into the corner of his notes. Perfect. 

It’s a little awkward, of course, because you’re perched on the desk and he’s sitting all the way down on his chair, gripping its arms. But, still, you bend down and kiss him square on the mouth. 

He gasps against you, freezing there. You’re undeterred; you kiss and kiss him, smearing your strawberry lipgloss, until he snaps into action and kisses you back. It’s a rhythmless, artless thing.

He doesn’t know how to kiss. 

What he lacks in technique, he makes up in eagerness, opening his mouth and licking a wet tongue into yours. You giggle a little, taste the Sour Patch kids he nervously ate from his bag between two scientific words you purposefully didn’t remember. You press at his throat, just so he’s as breathless as you are. He moans against your lips, panting. 

Matty doesn’t dare touch. His body is fixed to the desk chair, letting himself be kissed, taking only what you are willing to offer. He sits there like you are breathing life into his mouth, eating and eating and never asking for more. It’s what makes you want to give him more. 

You pull away from him, straightening like a queen taking her throne. Under you, the pages wrinkle and ruffle, and he doesn’t even care. His lips are swollen and pink, shiny from the lipgloss. Breaths puff out from there, pulling attention. 

“You’re kinda pretty,” you admit lowly, like a secret he should know. 

“Thanks,” Matty flushes. 

You release his throat, wiping your pink gloss off his lips. They part instinctively. You smile, slipping your thumb inside. He sucks the strawberry, warm tongue on your fingerprint. Power loosens your head.

“Do you want me?” You ask, as though his mouth drooling around your thumb wasn’t indication enough. You want the words; you want the worship. 

“Yeth,” he says, choking on your finger. You smile, taking it out and drying it on his cheek.

You don’t make a big show of taking your shirt off. Your hands are at the hem of your baby tee, then it’s off your shoulders, thrown on the pink carpet. Matty whines, surprised and overwhelmed, throwing a furtive glance at the cracked door of your bedroom. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, taking his hand. Soft and weak; he hasn’t worked a day in his life. It’s slack between your fingers. He lets you puppeteer it to your breasts, lets you grope yourself with him as an instrument. 

He makes another small noise from the back of his throat, staring at the fucking sight like he can’t quite believe it truly is his own hand. “God,” he mutters to himself, and it’s exactly how you feel. 

“Say thank you,” you taunt him, because you know he will. 

Like clockwork, Matty revels, “Thank you.” Growing bold, he rubs a thumb over your hard nipple, a tough callus you didn’t expect on the tip of it. It makes you moan; a crack in your spotless armor, but he doesn’t even notice. Too preoccupied with playing with your tits, pawing at it greedily. 

“Can I—” He flushes, shaking his head. 

“What?”

“Can I lick them?” A drop of heat strikes through you. You clench your thighs, arching your back into his readied palm. 

“Yes.” He leans in before you’ve finished the s, sucking your abandoned nipple into his mouth. He licks and rubs and pinches, raw skill pulling at your sensitive skin. You bite back groans, breathing harshly. Your chest rises and falls into his mouth, but he’s just as diligent. 

You rake a long-nailed hand into his hair, scratching his scalp with every particularly delicious lick. He moans at that, vibrating on your sensitive nipples. 

He sticks his tongue out, panting like a dog, dipping down to the valley of your tits and pressing a kiss, then climbing up a new breast. He bites gently, and you jump, surprised by his boldness. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. You don’t like this little switch-up in power. He’s supposed to be purring for you, enthrallment shining in his eyes. You tug on his hair, making him look at you. 

Matty stares up, dutiful. He doesn’t care about the power game; hasn’t even realized you were slipping. He takes what you give. 

You soothe away the sting of his hair. “Pretty boy,” you coo. Matty beams at that. “I want to hear you scream.”

With this, you jump off the desk, and kneel under it. 

“Oh,” Matty says, eyes wide as he watches you fumble with his pants. You unbutton and unzip, fast and knowledgeable, dipping into his boxers— “Wait.”

You look up at him, inches from your goal. You cock your head, frowning. “What?”

“Just—” He pants, staring at you. “Just give me a second.”

You hum, grazing a finger on the faint happy trail of his stomach. His belly sucks in. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” he says. “Yes. I don’t know.” He laughs. His hands still grip the armrests, white-knuckled. “Why are you doing this?” 

You shrug. “I want to.” You tip your head, kissing his soft hand. “Do you want me to?” 

“Well, yeah.”

You grin. “Relax.” Finally, your hand slips under his underwear, and you wrap around his hard length. He gasps, cold fingers against hot skin, fingers against him. 

His hips jump into your fist as you draw him out. Another nervous glance to the door, still half-opened. Your parents are somewhere in the house, pretending not to exist. You lick your lips.

You lightly scratch your pink nails against him. You run a thumb on his tip, smearing precum. He hisses, turning into a moan as you slowly drag your hand down. He’s frozen and tense, almost afraid of moving, as if that would make you go away. 

“Teach me,” you say. 

He blinks at you, dazed. “Huh?” 

Your eyes vaguely look up to the desk you hide under, biology notes in his scratchy writing laying wrinkled. “Biology. My parents are paying you for a reason, aren’t they?” 

“Oh—” He flushes, embarrassed. Pushes his glasses up. “Right, right.” His hands let go of the armrests, searching through the pages. You choose this moment to kiss the tip of his cock. He whimpers, shutting his eyes in pleasure. “Fuck.” You giggle, all too happy. 

He struggles to find where you disturbed him, biting his lip in comical concentration. You tease him, enjoying all the little breaths he chokes on, the soft sounds he tries to hide. Your hand pumps up and down, twisting at the wrist. 

You wonder how often he’s done this on himself, who he imagined between his legs. 

From now, it’ll be you. You’ll make sure of it. 

“Um, right, so,” Matty starts, out of breath. “In some reactions,” he continues arduously, “one substrate is broken down into multiple products. And—” Devilishly, you lick a stripe up his length. He groans, twitching on your tongue. “Shit,” he mutters. It’s funny coming from him; the swear rings wrong, like a costume. 

He drags his stare down, pulling away from his notes to watch you. You indulge him, parting your lips and wrapping them around his tip. You suck on it gently. His face wrinkles, a moan breaking from him. You pull your head down, swallowing him. He clutches at his papers, scrunching them himself. 

“Oh, God,” Matty says, trying to catch his breath as you bob your head. “I’m— Shit.” 

You let go of him with a wet pop, stroking him quickly. “Shh,” you tease him. “My parents.” Again, he throws a nervous look towards the door. 

Saliva and lipgloss and precum already lube him, but you keep your hand at his base as you spit on his cock. You drag it down his length. Matty’s eyes snap towards you. “Do that again.” He wants to see you.

You smirk, tilting your head to leave wet kisses up his cock, then lick his tip. You spit on it, and a low groan resonates from him. His hips rise up into your hand, but you push them down with your claws. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers from the back of his throat, melting on the chair. He likes it messy. You grin, peppering little kisses over his cock, smearing him in strawberry lipgloss. 

“What’s the other thing?” 

“Huh?” He blinks, tying himself back to reality. “Right, um, substrates. It’s—” Again, you choose this moment to push him down your throat. He loses speech, mumbling incoherent syllables, some broken version of your name. 

Though your head bobs quickly, pulling further and further down his length, twisting a stroking hand all the same, you pinch your nails at his hip. He jumps, struck out of the daze of pleasure, blinking down at you. 

“Yeah, it’s— The other reactions are—” You let go of his hip, pinching your own nipple instead. Matty whines, losing his train of thought. “You’re not being fair.”

You laugh, spitting him out to catch your breath. You grope yourself and he watches, not sure which hand to focus on. His cheeks are tinted red, maybe from effort, or adrenaline, or shyness. It’s cute enough to bite. 

Wonder shines in his eyes. He can’t believe this is happening; he’s eternally grateful, as he should be. As they all should have been, those faceless men you’ve blown in the bathrooms of parties for attention and a momentary stop to complete boredom. They stayed quiet, almost afraid to make noise, to show they enjoyed it, until they shook and spilled inside your mouth. Matty’s not afraid to moan. 

Your brain rushes, sticky happy. You pant on his cock, trailing a finger down your stomach, then dipping in your shorts. Matty’s eyes widen, straightening to catch a glimpse. You smile, catching a pool of your arousal. 

You come back up, fingers sticky and wet with your slick, and smear it on his cock. Matty scrunches his face, whimpering, shaking under your hands. 

“You’re trying to kill me.”

“Only because it’s easy,” you mock, jerking and twisting your two hands in rhythm, wet sounds ringing in the room. 

You free his cock, gripping the armrests of the chair instead. You wrap your mouth around it, and bend down until your nose touches the faint smatterings of dark hair on his belly. You gag on him, and he strangles the edge of the desk trying to kill his moans. 

You pump him in your mouth quickly, feeling him twitch and rise to meet you. He remembers himself, falling down on the chair dutifully, not even burying a needy hand in your hair, as though afraid that would be asking for too much. 

You drag up, making him hit the inside of your cheek, before releasing him. You spit the precum on him, blinking up through teary eyes. He doesn’t have any words, red swollen lip bitten raw. 

“I taste great,” you say, and then offer up your still-wet fingers to him. He’s eager, sucking them into his mouth. He bobs, imitating you, and the sight and feel makes hot desire drip inside of you. 

You want to squeeze him until he pops. 

You take his hand, pulling it into your hair. He grips instinctively, pushing it out of your face. “Don’t push,” you warn, serious. He nods frantically, and you trust him to mean it. 

You take him into your mouth for what you know is the final time. You’re certain he won’t last long, droopy and moaning and twitching, hissing every time your tongue runs on him. You bob with skill and precision still. He tugs at your hair, both hands in now, trembling in the mess of it. He never pushes, or fucks his hips up; trusts you to undo him yourself. 

He swears and curses and whimpers, head falling down and back, vacillating between the sky and your red, puffy face. The sink is heard from faraway, but you don’t think he can even hear it. 

“I'm dreaming,” he whispers to himself, sounding wild. “I’m gonna wake up. I’m gonna be— I’m gonna—” Matty cries, slapping a hand over his mouth, and comes down your throat. He shakes, loud moans hidden in his palm, eyes shut and forehead wrinkled. 

He lets go of your hair with a fucked-out sigh, panting. His eyes never leave you, disbelief written all over it. You pull him out of your throat, and smile at him. 

You’re about to swallow when he touches your arm, unsure of where he’s allowed to now. “Wait, can you—” He grows embarrassed, blushing. “Can you open your mouth?”

You part your lips, showing off his white cum still sitting on your tongue. He whimpers at the sight, fingers digging into your arm. His breathing turns irregular, cheeks reddening, eyes darkening. He’s so strange. 

Still, you stick your tongue out, putting his load in evidence, making a spectacle of it. He looks tortured, enthralled. 

You stay long enough that you feel it run down, long white rope hanging from your tongue, then dropping on your breast. 

“Fuck,” Matty whispers to himself. Seemingly without thinking, he runs his thumb on your breast, catching his cum and sucking it between his lips. 

You smile, slurping the cum back into your mouth, and swallowing it. You flash your red tongue at him. “All clean.”

“Thank you,” Matty says. “I— I’m not sure why you did that, but— I, you know, appreciate it.” He’s so polite. You’d laugh if he wouldn’t snap back into that little head box of his. 

“I’m very thankful for all those lessons,” you wink.

“No, you’re not.” 

“No, I’m not.” Matty’s finger rubs the skin of your arm, that strangely tough callus, and it has you leaning into his touch. “Though, this has been my favorite lesson.” 

“God, I couldn’t even get a word out.”

“Hence why.”

Matty snorts and he offers you a hand. You grab it to manœuvre out from under the desk. You push your sweaty hair out of your face, then wipe the leftover stickiness from your breasts. 

Matty, of course, follows the movement to your tits. He swallows. “Do you, um,” he pushes his glasses up. “Do you want, like, something back?” 

You arch an eyebrow, incapable of holding a small giggle this time. “Do you know how?”

He stares into your eyes. “I could try.”

And, again, there’s just something about his eagerness, his willingness, his open devotion, that has you saying, “Yeah, I guess you could try.”

You tiptoe to your bedroom door, looking left and right into the hallway, before quietly shutting it. You turn around to a displeased Matty. “Oh, so you get to have it closed?” 

“‘S more fun when you’re struggling,” you shrug, devilish. You run to the bed, falling on the pillows, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “Come here, pretty boy.” He practically trips out of his chair to find you. He’s three steps in when you stop him. “Take your clothes off.”

He grows shy under your gaze. Staying in place, fingers shaking, he starts to unbutton his plaid shirt. He kicks off his sneakers and his baggy jeans until he stands there in his boxers. He’s as scrawny as you imagined him to be. You smile. 

Matty crosses his arms. “Can I see you, too?” He whispers.

You shimmy your shorts off your legs and throw it beyond the bed. Matty’s stare stutters on your pink thong, wet patch where your desire pooled. 

You draw a hand towards him and he takes it, falling over you on the bed. He doesn’t waste time, giving you a sloppy kiss before mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, your tits. He laps at them first and you wonder if he’s trying to get the last lingering taste of his cum. He catches a nipple next and sucks it. 

Gaspy moans leave your lips. You part your legs instinctively and he buries between them, already hardening. His cock hits your thigh and he sucks and pinches and plays until you start thinking he might really be able to try. 

Your hands descend down his back, freckled under your nails. You grip his small waist, pushing at his hip, the hem of his boxers. Matty understands, leaving you long enough to kick them off. He pants in front of you, leaning back already, wet, swollen mouth parted. 

Matty lays over you again and his hard cock presses into your need. You scratch your nails up his back and he jerks, bucking into you. A moan leaves both your mouths. He tries again, artless, just off your clit. 

“Oh,” he whispers, mostly to himself. He does it again, building and building heat inside of you, yet never relieving. 

You huff. You sneak a hand between your bodies, moving your thong aside until he slips under it. 

Another boy would have taken the opportunity, would have buried inside before you even had time to nod, but Matty doesn’t even think of it. 

He humps your wet cunt, tucked tight under your underwear, hem pressing his length. Matty moans every time, quickening, desperate. He tilts his hand to better see as his cock bulges the cloth, a wet patch forming where his precum stains. 

“Fuck.”

And it’s better; he’s faster, and firmer, and mostly there. He follows your little puffs of shameful breaths, staying where they transform into slack moans. Pleasure starts waking up inside your belly, sickly warm. 

But you’ve had boys hump at you before, had them bucking between your legs. You know it’s not what will get you off. You need your mind stimulated, to be so thoroughly hot and desperate you finally let yourself go. 

You pinch the nape of his neck, making him look at you. A slack, messy smirk lays on your lips. You tease, “Have you ever thought of me during our tutoring sessions?” 

Matty’s hips stutter. He looks away. “Like…”

“Yeah, like, on my knees.”

Matty blushes. “Well, yeah.” 

You grin, too pleased. A deadly smile, hunting. “When?”

“I don’t know…” He mutters. You scowl to yourself, and maybe he senses that, because his chin grazes your shoulder and he admits shamefully, “When you ate that popsicle. And you licked and you slurped and you sucked and, just— I’m a guy. I had visions.” 

“I had visions.” You imitate, mocking. You tsk, “You're such a nerd.” You roll your hips back against him and a whimper buries in the skin of your shoulder. “Was it how you imagined?”

“Better.” He nods fervently. “So much fucking better. I actually died, I think. Still unsure whether I’m dead or not.” Pride and power makes your head loose, makes pleasure ripple through your flesh. 

You claw at his skin, warning dangerously, “Tell anyone and you will be.” All it does is make him moan, bucking faster against you. Your toes curl. You breathe in his ear, “Tell me more.” 

“I, uh— Shit.” The tip of his cock burrows in your underwear as he slides, wet and slick from you. He shivers over you. “I’d think about— bending you over the desk.” 

Your smile ghosts your face, grazing his soft, fresh cheek. “Really?”

“Just, you know, when you wouldn’t listen. And you’d pop that chewing gum, and you’d ignore me, and you’d be mean.”

You smirk, clicking your tongue. “So you wanted to, what, toughen me up? Take your revenge?”

His cheeks redden. “No.” His lips brush your shoulders, and he kisses, opposite. “I don’t know. I wanted you to pay attention.” He licks your neck. “I wanted to make you scream.” Mouths at your jaw. “I wanted to fuck you. Or for you to fuck me— I wanted you.”

You can’t believe you’re now the one blushing. You pant, glad he’s buried in your throat, that he can’t see. A moan slips from you as he nips gently at your skin. Your eyes roll in your skull. 

“You like when I’m mean to you?” You tease meanly, out of breath. You scratch his back, burying your hand in his hair, and tugging until he looks you in the eyes. “Gets you all bothered?” 

Matty shivers, whining, “Fuck, please—” 

You push him onto his back, rolling over. Two hands press into his chest, and you might very well concave his ribcage. You stare him down, divine. “You wanted me to fuck you?” 

His messy, unbrushed hair falls around his head like a halo. He’s sweet enough to make your head spin. He watches you openly behind the glass of his specs, breathing, “Yes.”

You trail your fingernails on his hard cock, down to his base. “And now?”

Devoting, “Yes.”

A rush of thrill fills you. You kneel up, shimmying your underwear off. Matty gasps at the sight, raking a hungry gaze up and down your body. He holds the sheets of your bed with white-knuckled fingers. 

You waste no time, rocking your cunt against his tip once, twice, before slowly lowering yourself on him. You inhale at the stretch. Matty’s eyes shut, whining. “Look at me,” you order, and he listens. 

His eyes flash open. He blinks at you as you bottom out. His head rolls, shaking. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” You go to move up, but he holds your hip down. He takes deep breaths. “Can we— Just, this is—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, taking his hand and placing it over the regular beating of your heart. He thumbs your nipple while he’s there, breathing in sync with your pulse. You slowly roll your hips on him. 

Matty moans, gripping the flesh of your thigh. You let him adjust to the feel of it, rocking softly, dragging your clit on his pelvis. You bite your lip raw as pleasure blooms inside of you. Your thighs ache to go faster, harder, but you maintain the delicate pace for him. Just that has him shaking under you, and you once again grip his hand over your heart to ground him. 

“Sorry,” he says with an embarrassed laugh. “Fuck,” is immediately added when you circle your hips, his eyes rolling. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you order. “What are the other reactions?” You say, attempting to drag him out of his anxiety-filled head. He frowns at you. “Of enzymes.”

His lips part. “I didn’t know you knew that term.” 

You roll your eyes, then your hips, euphoria fizzling under your skin. “I listen to you.” His unconvinced look betrays him. “Sometimes.”

“They’re, um— Shit. They come together to create one— fuck, one larger molecule or—” You finally rock faster, angling your hips to have him bury inside you right where you need him. You moan, chest rising and falling quickly. Your legs grow desperate; you chase that sickly pleasure. 

“Yeah?” You encourage him on, seeing his own pleasure resonate in his face. He bites his lip, pawing uselessly at your thigh. “Or?” You’re out of breath. 

“Or swap pieces,” he finally finishes between two moans. Chuckles, “Actually, pretty much all biological reactions you can think of probably—” Your hips fall harsher on him and he loses his train of thought, overwhelmed. You smile, setting a wild pace, completely unfair. 

“Probably what?” You say, teasing, “I’m always thinking about biological reactions.”

“Don’t tease,” he pouts, and you slow down your thrusts just to spite him. He whines, pressing his short fingernails into the skin of your thigh. 

“Come on.” You make him look you in the eyes, mocking, “Educate me.”

“They all have enzymes,” Matty finally finishes. You reward him by reaching down and pinching his nipple. He whimpers, cursing your name. “Why have you suddenly decided to be a good student?” 

“‘Cause you’re adorable when you’re struggling to find words,” you answer honestly. You hold your weight up on the hand pressed into his chest, angling your hips until your clit rubs and rubs his pelvis. Your eyes roll, fucking him quicker. “Fuck. I love when I can make you all stupid for me.” The power in changing up his DNA composition, making a smart boy incapable of remembering all the jargon you yourself don’t know, is addictive. Undoing him block by block until he’s putty in your hands. Matty just moans, not arguing. 

Sweat pearls his forehead. The white sheets make him angelic. He breathes your name, fluttering his eyelashes at you. “Can I try on top?” Maybe it’s because he looks so reverent, so innocent, that you nod. 

Matty doesn’t push you and roll you over, instead staying there, as though waiting for it to just magically happen. You giggle to yourself, unmounting him and falling back on the mattress, legs parted. He swallows thickly, laying over you. 

His glasses fall down his nose and you laugh, grabbing them and carefully placing them on your nightstand. He blinks, adjusting to the blurry sight. 

His hand shakes as he grabs himself and lines up. He misses once, twice, until you rest a soothing hand on his and guide him. Matty moans in your hair as he slides in. He stays in your wet heat for a second, catching his breath, before he thrusts. 

And it’s bad, of course. He doesn’t have any rhythm, bucking blindly inside of you. It’s a strange pace, irregular and powerless. He certainly can’t find any type of mindnumbing spot. Pleasure simmers lowly in your belly, heat turned off almost to nothing if it weren’t for the pretty moans that bury straight in your ear. 

You grab his hip, making Matty look at you. “Start slow,” you instruct, guiding him. He follows the movements of your hand, rocking back and forth, slow but regular. “There,” you nod, arching your back. “Just, tilt—” He repositions himself, eager to learn, and you shudder. You call his name, syrupy with moans. 

He’s a fast learner, following diligently the guidings of your gripping hand. He fucks into you slowly, but surely. Your toes curl. Pleasure wakes up again, coiling in your belly. “Like this?” He breathes. You nod, encouraging him on. 

“It’s like I’m tutoring you,” you remark, chuckling to yourself. Matty snorts. “I like being the smart one for once.”

Matty frowns. “You’re always smart.” He says it without thinking, because he means it. Something wet chokes your throat, tugs at your lips. “You just don’t listen.”

“Would you like me to?” You say, tone taunting. A self-destroying instinct, telling you to hurt, to ruin. “Make me your little pet? Be all obedient? Have me sucking your cock while you tell me all about biology?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Do you want me to do that?” All your bullets don’t land. He’s unconcerned on what he wants. You huff.

Instead of reckoning, you order, “Faster, now.” Matty nods against your cheek. He obeys, thrusting quicker. You let go of his hip, climbing up his back just to rake your nails down it. His hips snap faster, harsher, endeavored. You grin, licking his jaw, kissing the bone. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers, catching your lips and kissing you. You wrap your arms around his neck, trapping him there as he ruts between your legs. You swallow all the sounds he makes, kill the swears you think of saying. Euphoria washes you. 

He leaves your lips just to smack wet kisses over your face, again and again. On your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids, your chin. He mouths down your throat, starts sucking and nipping at the side. You bury a hand into his hair, pushing him further down. “Not the neck,” you explain, breathy. 

Matty finds the side of your tits and he buries there, sucking at your skin. You arch into his mouth, pleasure rushing up your side at the pinpricks of pain. He moans against you, bucking faster. Your mind spins and spins. “Matty.” Again, he speeds up, harsh and wild. “Fucking hell, Matty.” 

You tug at his hair and he releases you, lips wet and swollen. He pants over you, eyes dazed with pleasure. A new wave of heat strikes you just from the sight of him, unmade and wild. You sneak a hand between your bodies. You find your clit easily, rubbing. 

Matty’s head drops to watch you. He whines, seeing where he disappears inside of you, over and over, where your pink nails swipe at you. 

He leans his weight on one arm, joining his own hand with yours. You’re surprised at the act, at the willingness of involving himself in the complicated business of your pleasure. Your fingers stop, resting up on your stomach. 

He paws blindly at your cunt, just a little off where you need him. You grip his wrist, angling him at the right place, gently circling and swiping with his finger. The callus presses on your clit and it’s a delicious sensation. You roll your eyes, crying out, then slapping your palm over your mouth. Matty grins proudly, continuing to rub at you. 

“This is good, right?” He whispers, pretty eyes all vulnerable on you. 

You nod frantically. “Yes. It’s good.” You melt on the sheets, parting your legs further. “It’s really good.” His cheeks flush at the compliment. You wrap your hand around his throat, resting there with silent ownership. “Did you ever think it’d be me?” 

Matty chokes on a laugh and a moan. “No. I never thought you’d ever even give me a look.” 

You hum, pleased with the answer. He realizes it’s a privilege. You grin, pressing your fingers on the sides of his neck. His hips stutter, then snap even faster, a broken cry leaving him. His lips part in quiet ecstasy. His eyes shut,  rapid movement behind his eyelids. 

You grin at him. “Say thank you, pretty boy.” 

You release him, at least giving him a chance. He falls into your shoulder, taking deep inhales, shaking. “Thank you,” he says, mumbly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You rake through his hair, soothing. “Aw, fuck, I’m gonna—” He twitches inside of you. 

“Not inside!” You shout. Matty gasps, thrusting out of you. He cries as he comes on your navel and cunt. He catches his breath, blinking himself back to this reality, still shaking. 

“Sorry,” he says, shortwinded. A pang of disappointment hits you. It’s not like you’ve ever come with someone else before, but it had felt really close this time. 

At least Matty tried. 

Matty watches his cum painted over your skin, catching your piercing, mixing with the slick of your cunt. He moans to himself, then bends down between your thighs. 

You rest on your elbows, frowning. “What—” He licks a stripe over your cunt, tasting both your juices. Euphoria strikes through you. Your back hits the mattress as you fall back, legs shaking. “Matty.” He hums, faraway, licking and licking to clean you all up. You bury a hand in his hair, grounding him in place. 

He finds your clit, rubbing it with the tip of his tongue, circling then sucking it. You jolt on the bed, biting back a scream. You frown to yourself, tugging on his hair, fire boiling inside your stomach. What the fuck. 

He laps at you, moaning every time your nails scratch his scalp, the sound vibrating against you. A hand wraps around your thigh, keeping you open for him. He devours you eagerly, hungrily, until you’re a mess melting into his mouth. 

“God, Matty,” you cry. You have to actually hold back another one with a slap of your hand, shocked at yourself as you scream into your palm. 

Matty stops, breathing harshly, and you throw a glance down in question. He climbs up your stomach, lapping at your skin, cleaning the last of his cum. You whimper at the dirty sight, desire drumming down your limbs. 

He throws you a hot look. Tongue out, full of white cum. He goes back between your legs and buries it in your cunt, fucking it in. You jump, cursing to the ceiling. Matty laughs, greedily tasting you. 

You roll your hips into his face, hitting the tip of his nose on your clit. Every strike has ecstasy resonating in your bones. You feel light on your bones. 

His lips wrap around your clit. He sucks, grazing a tongue, swiping and circling like you showed him. You recognize the same pattern, recognize the rhythm. Of course he’s a fast learner. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, choked by your hand. You raise your hips into his mouth, silently begging. Your legs shake, desperate. Pressure pushes at your belly. Your eyes roll. “Don’t stop.”

He mumbles something in your cunt, probably a promise or a praise, dutifully not stopping. He laps and eats and fucks until your brain melts into your skull, dripping down your spine. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m—” Your head shakes fervently. “Just stay— Shit, Matty, just— I—” The pressure snaps and you come on his readied tongue, screaming. Hot white flashes in your vision. Relief washes you, dipping to every crevices, relaxing you. He moans against your cunt. 

Matty continues to lick you, mission-bound, until your lungs are on fire and you physically push him away. He smiles up at you, chin sticky and wet and red. He wipes it, kneeling. 

“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” You say, shortwinded, shocked to your bones. You stare at him like he’s grown a second head. 

It’s the first time someone other than your knowing hand made you come. And it’s fucking Matty Healy. You blink at him. 

“What?” He laughs, falling beside you on the bed. 

You gesture vaguely downwards. “That.”

“Oh,” he blushes. Shrugs. “I don’t know. I researched it once.”

“You— Oh, my God.” You stare at the ceiling in disbelief. “Oh, my God. You’re such a nerd.”

Matty grins, cheekily proud. He gently grazes the bruise he left on your breast, the splotch of red that will darken, be a leftover trace of him. 

“Thanks,” he says simply. 

“You’re welcome.” You shift your legs, feeling the wetness still between them. “Thanks to you too, I guess.” He grins, hiding in the white pillows. 

He gives you a look. “Will you listen when I tutor you now?” 

You smirk mischievously. “Maybe if you have my fingers in your mouth.”

“Oh,” Matty says, eyes wide. “Will you— Will this happen again?”

You make a noncommittal shrug, though a more definite answer hums in your heart. “Maybe if you’re really good.” You smile to yourself. “Or really boring, and I need to shut you up.”

“You can shut me up any day.”

“I know.” You linger in that moment for just a second more, eyes locked together, smiles tickling your lips. Then you sit up, reaching for your underwear. “Session’s almost done.” 

Matty nods, lips thin. “Right.” He pats the nightstand for his glasses.  

You dress yourselves, wiping away sweat and cum, brushing wild strands. You give an awkward goodbye, incertain, and Matty slips from the room. You don’t follow him to the door. You never do. 

Downstairs, you hear your parents thank him and give him a crisp 50 dollar bill. You giggle to yourself and fall on the bed, bone-deep exhausted. 

[sooshihu]

charles leclerc x reader ~ instagram au

prompt: the great looking driver we all know and love creates controversy with his new and surprisingly young girlfriend

warnings: age gap

january 5 2024

yourusername shared a story

yourbestfriend liked your story

user liked your story

charles_leclerc started following you

charles_leclerc liked your story

user liked your story

user liked your story

wagsf1

liked by user, user and others

wagsf1 !charles leclerc has been spotted with an unknown girl outside of a club in monaco!

after this picture was taken he allegedly drove off in his new ferrari with the girl

comments

user she does look like his type that’s for sure

user YALL I FOUND HER SHE LITERALLY JUST TURNED 18 LAST NIGHT

user im sorry WHAT

user mr leclerc going younger and younger i see

user didn’t he like break up with his girlfriend like 3 weeks ago?😭

user our fav walking red flag🥰

user oh to be her…

and 457 more

february 2 2024

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername 💦☀️🌊🤍

comments

yourbestfriend 😍

user @charles_leclerc mr hitting on fresh 18s that you?🥰

user that’s deff charles’ yacht

user my guess is she’s going after his money to pay off those student loans

yourusername how did you know🤭

and 54 more

f1gossip

liked by user, user and others

f1gossip charles leclerc with his supposed new and very young girlfriend😉 let us know your view on this couple!

comments

user still think she’s after the money

user why you all hating we don’t know anything about her yet💀

user fr like calm down😭

user she can’t be mature enough for him she’s just a kid

user he wouldn’t be with her if she wasn’t

user i saw her instagram she doesn’t look like the bitch yall make her out to be just saying

and 374 more

april 2 2024

yourusername added a story

charles_leclerc liked your story

charles_leclerc replied to your story:

je t'aime, magnifique❤️ (i love you, gorgeous)

april 25 2024

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc and others

yourusername joy of missing out 🤍 enjoy the little moments you share with only yourself

comments

charles_leclerc 🤍

user it’s over he commented a heart on her post they’re offcial😔

user am i the only one who LOVES her vibe?😍

user deff not! she seems like a very nice and humble person to me i don’t know why she was getting so much hate

user “she’s just 18 blah blah blah” it’s not your relationship leave her alone

yourusername i love you

user the age gap is kinda wild tho

user hair care routine??

may 3 2024

charles_leclerc added a story

user liked your story

user liked your story

yourusername replied to your story: ❤️

yourusername replied to your story: ❤️

yourusername replied to your story: ❤️

yourusername replied to your story: ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername added a story

may 19 2024

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and others

yourusername haters be hating because they don’t wake up next to charles leclerc like i do

comments

user WERE YOU SILENT OR SILENCED DEAR HATERS

charles_leclerc wouldn’t want it any other way🤭

user THE CAPTION SHUT UP I LOVE HER

user do you see his smile? and yall still think she can’t make him happy cause she’s ‘too young’💀

user Something About You - Eyedress, Dent May ~ 0:44

user the amount of things i’d do to wake up next to either of them is concerning

user every book girlie dreaming about their age gap trope

and 487 others

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_leclerc she’s gotta pay off those student loans somehow, am i right?

(last pic is me proudly taking all of the pics above)

comments

user charles simping for yn is so real omg

user love how they’re making fun of the gold digger rumours😭

user charles.jpg when?

user i just know it would be full of yn pls

scuderiaferrari after the loans are payed off we suggest buying her a ferrari of her own 👀

user the unseriousness of their hard launch captions are highlights of my day

user she’s living our dream fr

user can’t decide if i wanna be him or her

and 1,592 others

[cozage]

Congratulations on hitting 2k🎉🎉

I really love your writing and I’d love to see how you think the op boys would react to their s/o getting jealous you could maybe do ace law and luffy?

Characters: gn reader x Ace, Law, Luffy Cw: Put your rose-colored glasses on, folks. Because we got some red flags (cough cough Law)  Total word count: 1.6k

Jealous Reader

Ace

Ace is just being fun. He’s just too oblivious to realize the other people are flirting. He doesn’t notice the soft touches across his torso, or how they lean in closer to him every time they laugh. But you do. 

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” he said halfway through the night. “We can go, if you want.”

“Wouldn’t want to take you away from your fan club,” you spat back, venom in your words. But he either didn’t notice or he pretended not to.

“Yeah, they’re funny aren’t they?” He laughed. “They all buy me drinks whenever I tell a new story. Hospitality here is amazing!”

“Right.” You got up to leave. “Have fun with that.”

“What?” his brows furled together in confusion. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the ship.” And with that, you slammed the door closed. 

A few seconds later, he’s racing after you into the crowded street.

This man has no idea what he did wrong, but he’s trying to make it right. 

He abandons everyone in that bar without even a goodbye, and as his fingers lace through yours, you can’t help but feel a little better about that. 

He kisses your cheek and follows you closely, not wanting you to get away from him. He knows you all need to talk, but he also knows this crowded street isn’t the place to do it. 

When you all get back to your room, you try to break away from him, but he pulls you into an embrace, strong warm arms wrapping around you. 

“You’re the only one I have eyes for, you know that right?” he said, rubbing your back lightly. 

“Didn’t feel like it tonight,” you mumbled harshly. 

“Well you are.” He tilted your face up so he could cover it with kisses. “I just use those people to get free drinks.”

“I know,” you whispered, leaving your head against his chest to hear his heartbeat. “Doesn’t make it any easier to watch though.”

“Okay.” Ace kissed the top of your head. “Won’t do it anymore.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Of course!” He kissed your lips now, gently reminding you that he was all yours. “Your feelings aren’t worth some free booze.”

Law

Of course this woman was some fancy doctor. Of course Law had read her book. All her books. And now he had been gone from your all’s table for almost thirty minutes to talk to her. 

She wasn’t just polite. She was friendly. Overly friendly. You had watched as she had scooted closer and closer to your boyfriend, minimizing the gap between their bodies. 

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You got up from your seat and ignored the snickering of Shachi and Penguin from the table. 

“Law, dear.” You gave a strained smile to him and the woman. “I hate to rush you, but we’re kind of on a schedule.”

Law stood, still staring at the woman. “Wow! The time really flew by. Thanks for letting me pick your brain.”

“Oh doctor,” the woman cooed, a seductive smile on her face. “The pleasure was all mine. Feel free to find me any time you want to have a…chat”

“Thanks for being patient,” Law said as the two of you walked away. “It’s not often I-”

“Let’s go,” you said to the others as you walked past the table, not pausing for a moment. “The captain made us late.”

You don’t use “Captain” often. And based on your tone, Law had to guess he was in trouble. 

The snickers from Shachi and Penguin weren’t helping either. They had surely watched you become more and more irritated as time went on, so they had a pretty good idea of what was going on,  

“Can you give me some pointers? Any warnings?” Law mumbled to his crewmates, desperate to get a read on your emotions. 

“You don’t know what you did?” Penguin asked as Shachi burst into laughter, causing all three of them to receive a glaring look from you

When you got back to the Polar Tang, you made a beeline for your bedroom. Law didn’t follow. He assumed you needed a bit to cool off. Plus he wanted to check out another book from the woman he had just met. 

After a few hours, Law rubbed his drooping eyes, and finally decided to see you again. He still had no idea why you were so upset. 

You were asleep in the bed, but you had built a pillow divider between his side in yours. He rolled his eyes and quickly pulled the pillows away, curling into you. 

You tried to push him away, proving you weren’t asleep, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“Can you tell me why you have such an attitude?”He was irritated, and you laughed at the irony. You were the one who was supposed to be irritated, not him. 

“Why don’t you go ask that famous doctor since you care about her more than-”

He scoffed, cutting you off. “You can’t be serious.”

You stared at him for a long moment, and then turned away from him, pouting at his words. 

“I’ve read her books, that’s all. Can you stop acting like a child with this petty jealousy?”

His words tipped you over the edge. “I’ll stop acting like a child when you treat me like an equal!” you yelled. You rose to your feet and quickly strode out the door, slamming it behind you. 

Oh, he really fucked up now. His tongue was always getting him in trouble.

He scoured the Polar Tang, searching for you. He finally found you on the couch and curled up next to you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “That was really insensitive of me to say. If the situation were reversed, I would be upset too. I’ll do better in the future, okay?”

You gave him a slight nod, and he quickly shambled you both back to the bed to get some much-needed sleep. 

Luffy

“Oh, Hancock is coming, right?!” Luffy asked. “I like her!”

“And we all know how she feels about you,” you mumbled under your breath. Your comment sparked laughter from Nami, causing Luffy’s attention to drift over to you. 

“What’s funny?” He asked. “I want to be in on the joke!”

“Nothing,” you grumbled. You could see Boa Hancock’s ship in the ocean, and your stomach churned with dread. “Sanji, do you need any help in the kitchen?”

Working with Sanji had been a bad idea. Boa Hancock was beautiful. And while you could hear her fawning over your boyfriend on the deck, Sanji fawned over her in the kitchen 

It was only thirty minutes before you gave up and retreated to your room. You were in a bad mood, but this was a celebration, and you didn’t want to ruin it. 

Luffy entered the kitchen looking for two things: Meat and you. “Sanji! Y/N-hey, where are they?”

Sanji shrugged. “Said they weren’t feeling well. Not sure.”

Luffy headed to your all’s room. Now that he thought about it, you had been off. You hadn’t been chatty or smiled most of the day, and he was starting to get worried you were really sick. 

As you heard the turn of the doorknob, you quickly wiped away your stray tears. But your eyes were still red and puffy. 

“Oh man!” Luffy sat down next to you on the bed, staring at your face. “Your allergies are terrible! You should’ve told me, we could’ve moved to another season ecosystem!”

His idiocy made you let out a garbled laugh, trying to hide your true feelings about the party. 

“It’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. But your bottom lip trembled, giving you away.

“You’ve been crying.” He stated it as a fact, not a question. He knew you too well for you to hide your tears for long. He smushed your cheeks together and held your face so you couldn’t avoid his gaze any longer. “Did Sanji make you cry?”

“No.” You tried to pull away from his grip, but he clamped down on your cheeks so you couldn’t escape. He wouldn’t let you leave his gaze until he figured out what was wrong. 

While you were here alone with him, all your worries felt so silly. Luffy didn’t even realize Hancock was in love with him. If you brought it up now, you’d be causing a big scene. 

“It’s stupid,” you whispered, but he only frowned at you. He opened his mouth to say something. 

“Luffy!” Hancock called from behind the door, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you in there? Should I come in?”

You rolled your eyes at her voice. Of course she came to find him. He had been gone for too long, and he was the only reason she was here. 

You tried to hide your disdain for the empress, but Luffy caught it, and his eyes widened. “You don’t like her!” he whispered. 

“Luffy, can we not do this right now?” you hissed, and the door opened. 

“Oh!” Hancock blushed seeing you and Luffy so close, but she glared daggers at you. “I didn’t realize you were with someone, Luffy.”

Luffy’s eyes slid between you and her, trying to figure it out. He was so close to the revelation, but he just couldn’t get there. 

The three of you rejoined the party reluctantly, but Luffy kept you close to him for the rest of the night. 

He’s always been a physical touch person, and tonight you were grateful for it. He was always holding your hand or had his arm wrapped around you. He stayed close, and even though you got death stares from Hancock, at least you had Luffy by your side to make it more manageable. 

[eraenaa]

Still Casual?

Part two of Casual

Rafe Cameron x Reader Tag List

Synopsis: You promised yourself that you’re never going to settle for casual ever again— promised yourself you would never be another casualty of Rafe Cameron.

Warnings: ¿Groveling?, Mentions of Substance Use, P in V Sex, Oral Sex (F & M receiving {69}), Very Slight use of Force, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 4,681

It was forthcoming; the warning signs were clear and loud, and red flags were waving, but you ignored them and proceeded without caution. Now, you must reap the consequence of living for the hope of it all. You returned home quickly after seeing such a scene at Rafe’s party. It was pathetic, but you kept looking at your phone in hopes that he would leave a message or even call you, wondering why you didn’t come. But why would he? He was preoccupied and entertained by a new ever-lovely jewel— what need would he have of you? You couldn’t even let yourself cry— you couldn’t even mourn because what is there to mourn? You could not grieve something that was casual. It would be foolish of you to do so. 

Now, you lay in your room trying to convince yourself that it was not as deep as you had believed it to be. That it should not affect you this greatly. Convincing yourself to be numb as your heart beats betrayal. You have betrayed yourself because you desired more— regretted your actions because you had settled for casual. 

You hesitated to call your friends and tell them what had happened, fearing they say, “I told you so” and “I warned you,” but they were gracious enough to keep those thoughts to themselves, suggesting you should visit them in the city and keep your mind off Rafe, which was difficult to do whilst on the island. It was a spontaneous decision, but with one message to your parents telling them that you’ll be going to New York and that you’ll need to borrow their jet and them replying with a thumbs up, you were quick to go wheels up and fly away from the outer banks.

“So, is it over now? Did you break it off with him?” Your friends asked as you gathered for brunch in the city. You frowned at their question, “What’s there to break off? We weren’t anything,” You mumbled. “Exactly, you weren’t anything! Why, then, are you so wounded?” Your friend, who was notorious for being frank and a tad insensitive, asked. You stayed quiet, not wanting to word out that you had optimism that your dalliance with Rafe would turn into something more. “You know what you should do?” Your friend asked, and you waited for them to finish their thought. “Give him a taste of his own medicine— the last time I was there, weren’t there two guys fighting for your attention? Use them and flaunt to Rafe this casualness he’s insisting on,” They suggested, and you scrunched up your nose in disagreement. 

“I’m not gonna do that! I… I’m not gonna use some innocent guy as a tool in the hopes of making Rafe jealous! That’s just mean and petty; besides, it might not even work.” You reasoned. “I just don’t want casual anymore. I want an actual relationship.” You sighed and locked eyes with your two closest friends. “You know what you have to do, don’t you?’ They asked, and you dejectedly nodded your head. “It’s just… if I end our arrangement, it means it’ll be the end of all that great sex,” you solemnly said, making your friends laugh at your admittance. “Oh, come on, it can’t be that great,” your friend scoffed in doubt, but you shook your head. “It is…I— the other night, he made me come seven times…seven! I could barely walk the next day,” you whispered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you recalled that memory. 

“Really? Seven times?” Your friend asked, intrigued, and you nodded your head, seeing the slight bewilderment in their eyes. “No! That’s beside the point! You deserve someone better— like those guys in those movies and books you love! Not this… frat bro who uses women as his cock warmer!” You sighed and nodded your head in agreement. “I knew you moving to North Carolina was a mistake,” Your friend sighed, “You’re too good for that place— it’s practically Florida!” Your friends said it with disgust, and you laughed at their snobbiness. You spent a week in the city, your friends trying hard to preoccupy your mind and show that you deserved better than Rafe. That you should never settle again— that tens or even hundreds of guys would treat you better than he would. Taking you to bars and parties from Brooklyn to the Upper East Side just to find a guy that would take your mind off of Rafe, none did the job. 

You went back to the Outer Banks feeling a bit better, your friends finally convincing you to remove any casual attachments because, knowing you, you would stay for more and be subjected to being one of Rafe’s playthings as long as he’d hold you in his arms. You were about to message him, asking him to meet you by the beach to halt your affairs with him and end your casual relationship. But before you could even type out the message, the doorbell rang, and you heard the hushed voice of the housemaid talking with Rafe. You furrowed your brows but stayed in your spot, not wanting to check if it was actually Rafe because if he saw you now, you would have no choice but to halt and cut ties. 

“Where were you? I’ve been calling you since last week, and you’ve been ignoring my calls and messages.” Your back was against him as he found you in the dining room. Your knees felt weak as you heard the deep baritone of his voice and the distinct smell of his cologne. You gathered the courage to face him, “I was in New York,” You reasoned and tried hard not to show hesitancy on your face. “Is that why you missed my party? I was waiting for you, and I even got that expensive ass wine you like because you don’t drink beer,” Rafe asked, walking towards you; his voice held confusion and, dare you say, sadness or hurt because you ceased contact with him for almost two weeks. 

You backed away towards the table and shook your head, willing yourself to stay strong and not grow soft by his charms or be attracted by his look; it was impossibly hard to do so. “No… I… went to your party,” You said, watching as Rafe’s brows shit in surprise, him inching towards you. “And, uhm… whilst I was there, I realized something.” You added and backed yourself toward the dining room table, nowhere to go as Rafe stood inches from you. “What?” He asked, trying to capture your gaze, but you were staring at the floor. You took a deep breath before the words left your lips, uncertain and fearing how he would react. Surely, he won’t react badly, right? You were just casual; he won’t be throwing a fit because you decided to end your dalliance. It won’t affect him; it won’t anger or sadden him. And the thought of him being unaffected wounded you.  

“I…I realized I don’t want this. I don’t want casual.” You explained. There was a beat of silence, and you finally lifted your gaze to see the confusion in Rafe’s blue eyes. “What… I don’t understand. I— you wanted this,” He said, and you watched the concussion in his eyes hide slight anger. “I thought I did. I thought I could do casual, but Rafe…” You sighed and stepped aside to put distance between the two of you. “Rafe, I’m a relationship type of girl; I like— I need commitment.” You explained. Rafe scoffed and shook his head, following you in the direction where you had walked off. “What is this? Some type of ultimatum? Now what? You’re trapping me in a relationship?” He spat, and you frowned at his words. 

“No, I’m doing the opposite! Rafe, I want commitment; I want an actual relationship, and I am completely aware that that is the last thing you want, which is why I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” You reasoned, growing frightened as the rage in his eyes was peeking through. “So what? You’re breaking up with me?” He gritted out, walking towards you, but you shook your head and walked further from him. “No, to break up with you meant we were in a relationship. You made it perfectly clear to me and to everyone that we weren’t,” The anger went quiet on his face, confusion covering it once more. “Nothing but a pastime— purely physical,” You sighed, reciting the words he thought you did not hear him say. You hear his heavy sigh, and an excuse was ready to be uttered from his lips. “I don’t wanna be your hobby anymore,” 

You walked off and heard him follow you towards the front door. “Baby, no— I,” You shook your head and felt proud of yourself as his little endearment did not waver your judgment. Continuing to open the door and motioned for him to leave. “I’ll see you around, Rafe,” You tried to smile and gently pushed him out of your home, out of your life.

Two days passed since your last encounter with Rafe, and you finally decided to leave the solace of your home and venture to… anywhere. You knew you could not go about the country club for a round of tennis, knowing Rafe often frequents there for a round of golf. And you could not as well accept the invitation of Weezy and Sarah to hang out in their home. So you headed to the beach, to a cafe that had an incomparable view of the ocean. 

You were sitting by the window, your gaze shifting between the book you had brought and the crash of waves. Your quiet and focus were disrupted by the sound of a chair scraping and a presence appearing beside you. “That’s a good book,” You turned to your right in confusion, only to be met with blue eyes and a charming smirk on a familiar face. “You haven’t read, let alone heard of this book, Rafe,” you sighed, scooting further from him to keep your distance. 

Rafe clenched his jaw as he felt you inch further from him. Gathering your things to leave. “How long are you gonna keep up with this, huh? Come on, you may not want casual, but you cannot lie and say you don’t want me as well,” Rafe followed you out as you hurriedly walked away from him. You sighed and shook your head, mumbling “Wanted,” as a correction for Rafe’s statement. “What?” He asked and took hold of your hand as you started to walk off once more. “Wanted. It’s in the past; I no longer want casual, and I no longer want you. Just leave this be, Rafe.” You tried to act civil, and respectful. Trying to maintain civility and not burn a bridge that, in all honesty, you would very much like to keep. 

You feel his hold on your hand tighten slightly and see the rage in his eye, trying hard to be suppressed. “You have tens of girls waiting to be your next casualty, Rafe. Let’s leave this be… it has run its course. I don’t want meaningless hookups, and it’s clear that that is all you could give me.” Rafe’s jaw clenched as the truth slipped from your lips. “Bye, Rafe,” You said once more and started to walk away from him. “What do I have to do for us to go back to the way it was?” He called after a while; you wanted to groan as he followed you once more. “Come on, baby. I’ll give you a ride home, and we can talk about it… please,” You were starting to grow frustrated as his hands placed themselves on your waist again; it was shameful that it quickly brought back the need in you. 

“No, I’ll walk. And Rafe…you can’t have to do anything for us to go back to the way that it was— I don’t want to go back to the way that it was. I have explained it to you thrice now. I don’t want casual!” You were practically screaming, and you hated that you lost composure. You wanted to go about this whole situation maturely, but Rafe was a test of your patience. “God, you’re so hot when you’re angry.” Was all he said, a teasing twinkle in his eyes and a smirk returned to his lips. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, turning away from him as you were now desperate to leave. But Rafe never relinquished his hold of you, only pulling you close and smashed your lips. You kept your jaw clenched as he eagerly tried to solicit a reaction from you— kissed you fervently as he was desperate that you would reciprocate his kiss. You hear him groan and let out a frustrated sigh as he parted for air. “Enough, Rafe. It’s done; we’re through with this.” You sternly said and wiped your lips of him.

A week has passed since Rafe kissed you. And you would admit, you were feeling withdrawals. You were missing him. Missing the way he held you close in sleep, with him burying his face in the crook of your neck or in your hair, and the way his arms would wrap around you so tightly yet so comfortingly. You missed how he would kiss your lips first thing in the morning and last thing in the night. You missed how he would bring pints you ice cream after taking Weezy to the ice cream parlor. You missed how he made you feel wanted— how he made you feel like you were the only one to bring him such blinding pleasure when you laid. You missed how you thought that you were made for him and how he was made for you. You missed Rafe. But not wholly enough to settle to be one of his girls once more. 

You were having a rare family dinner, and your parents finally came back from their trip and decided to stay home for at least a week and it went by quickly, with this being their last night and them flying off first thing tomorrow morning. You tried not to appear sullen— to actually enjoy their company, but it was difficult as Rafe was the constant thought in your head. You were seated in the dining room, your parents discussing their next trips and asked about your recent venture to New York, when the doorbell rang. You oddly felt your heart spike as you heard shuffling when your maid went to see who the visitor was. You licked your lips as you heard the far-off sound of Rafe calling for you, your maid entering the dining room and whispering that he came here for you. You excused yourself from your parents and hastily went to the front door, horrid to see the state Rafe was in. 

His eyes were bloodshot, and his form more rigid. There was a thing sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he smelt of booze, and your eyes did not miss the smidge of white powder on the side of his nose. He was fucking high. 

“Hi, baby… you look so pretty,” He slurred as he stumbled closer to you. You were mortified that he could be seen by your parents, especially in such a state. “Oh, you’re wearing one… one of those going out dresses,” he mumbled again, his hand going to your waist and feeling the fabric of your dress. “Are you on a fucking date? What? You fucking replaced me already, huh? Is that it?” He was no longer mumbling; his mellow state turned to rage, and you looked back down the hall, fearing your parents heard. “Rafe, shh… my parents are here; they cannot see you like this.” You tried to push him out, but he resisted, now more determined to step foot further into your house. “Like what? Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you ended it?” You stared up at him with him with a deep frown. You hear your parents call for you, and you feel your stomach twist in fear. 

You weighed your options; you could not let your parents see Rafe, but you could not push him out of your home and leave him in such a state. So you had no choice but to guide him towards your room once more. “Hm… I knew you couldn’t resist me. I missed you so much; I missed the way you would scr—“ You shushed him and made him sit on your bed, “I’ll be back— I still have dinner with my parents.” You said and hoped your mother and father would not grow suspicious of your absence. 

Your emotions were mixed as Rafe wrapped his strong arms around your waist as you stood before him. He nuzzled his face on your torso and hummed in satisfaction. “I missed you, baby… tell me you missed me too,” He mumbled against your frame. You tried to push him away, but he would only whine and hold you tighter. You had the faintest clue on how to handle him in a drunken and high state— he never was neither of those things whilst you two had your arrangements. “Rafe, please, my parents are getting suspicious. I’ll come back in a while.” You looked down at Rafe, who looked up to you with such vulnerability in his eyes that you had never seen. “I promise I’ll be back,” you sighed and kissed his cheek as a reassurance. Rafe finally relinquished his hold, and you ran back to the dining room and prayed your parents wouldn’t ask too many questions. 

Dinner somehow lasted for hours. Your parents were insistent on doing some bonding after many months away, playing board games, and even watching one of your favorite childhood movies. It was nice, you admit, to spend more time with your parents, but the thought of Rafe trying to sober up in your room and that he might be caught caused you to shrink in fear and panic. 

It was nearing midnight when you finally returned to your room, and you saw Rafe newly showered and waiting for you by the foot of your bed. “Do you want water?” You asked as you saw that he had sobered up. “No, I’m fine,” He said, but he could not meet your eyes. There was a moment of tense and awkward silence between the two of you. “You should… you should probably go,” You sighed and moved to the other side of your room to remove the earrings you adorned. 

Rafe did not utter a word, and you bit your lip as you turned to him. “Why?” He asked after a quiet moment. “Why did you end it?” He asked, and you felt exhaustion wash over you. “Rafe, I told you, I realized I don’t want casual, and that is all you are capable of. I’m not going to force myself and my wish for commitment upon you.” Rafe shook his head, “No. You were perfectly fine with our arrangement— what the fuck changed?” You licked your lips and thought twice if you should share with him your moment of realization. “I went to your party.” You stated and took your seat next to him. You saw from the side of your eye that Rafe had a frown on his face as he tried to take hold of your hand. “I went to your party and saw you making out with another girl… and there I realized that I can’t be casual. I can’t be the chill girl who settles for sharing someone they really like.” 

“You really like me?” Rafe asked, ignoring all your other statements. You couldn’t help but laugh as a boyish grin spread across his lips. “Liked, is the key word here,” You say with a small smile, but the grin on his lips faltered. 

“I don’t want casual.” Rafe suddenly announced and humorlessly laughed with a shake of your head. “You’re just saying that because you want us to fuck again,” There was a sting in your heart as you said the words. “No,” He denied, and you shook your head, standing up to put distance between the two of you. “Can you fucking stop walking away from me!” He gritted out and pulled you to sit beside him once more. “I never saw this as casual, okay?” You scoffed at his lie. “It’s true!” He defended, “Rafe, I heard you with your friends— you told me on three occasions what we are. I saw you making out with a girl! You saw me as nothing but casual!” 

“I don’t think you know what casual really is,” Rafe sighed and cupped your cheek; you tried to shift his hold, but you grew weak as you missed the way his large, calloused palm cupped your cheek. “If we were just casual, I wouldn’t have spent every moment of my free time with you. I wouldn’t be staying with you after we had sex and hold you ‘till we fall asleep. If we were casual, I wouldn’t attempt to cook you breakfast or go with you to those bookstores for hours just to hold the things you wanted to buy… I wouldn’t have told you about my issues with my dad, let alone let you meet my family! Baby, it was never casual.” You chewed on your lips as you felt your heart flutter, but your mind was battling with it. “You were kissing another girl— you bragged to your friends that I was nothing but a pastime.” 

“Those were mistakes. Topper was giving me a hard time— kept teasing me of how whipped I was with you and… I just wasn’t ready to admit it,” You bit your tongue as you felt the want to let a small smile slip your lips. “And at the party?” You instead asked, reminding yourself of the reason why you had the epiphany that you and Rafe could not work out. “It was a bigger mistake,” Rafe sighed, and you feel his thumb caressing your cheek, straying to touch your lips. “But it only made me realize more clearly that all I want to kiss and hold— the only one I want is you,” You leaned in closer to his touch. Ignoring the fact that your friends would be dismayed by your actions because you faltered by his words and his touch. “Do you believe me?” He asked as his face was inching closer to yours. You could not utter a word, but instead, you just moved to kiss his lips that you had desperately missed. 

“Rafe,” You mewled as his lips moved to your neck and his hand gripped your bosom. “You missed me, haven’t you, baby? Admit it, pretty girl,” Rafe hummed and nipped your skin but quickly soothed it with his tongue. You feel his ringed hand grips your thigh, his hand trailing up higher and higher. “Say it, pretty baby, tell me how much you’ve missed me,” Rafe practically growled. “Oh god, I missed you— so much,” You finally uttered and moved to straddle and push him down on the bed. You heard Rafe chuckle as it was your turn to pepper kisses on his neck. You feel his strong hands grip the flesh of your ass, and he guides you to grind upon him. “Let me prove to you that you’re the only one I want— will ever want, for that matter.” You gasped as Rafe barbarically ripped off your dress. “Rafe, that was couture,” You distractedly said as the fine dress was torn. “Baby, I don’t fucking care, I’ll buy you a new one.” He said and caught your lips as his hands fondled your exposed breasts, and your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt. 

Your hands trailed the skin of his exposed chest, feeling the contours of his impressive physique, and your hands hesitated and hovered over his trousers. You looked Rafe into his blue eyes, “All yours, baby, I’m all fucking yours,” He growled and harshly kissed your lips as your hand slipped into his trousers and grasped his length that was already hard and throbbing. Rafe had no patience and slipped off his pants himself, smirking as you marveled at his length and your mouth practically salivated at the sight of him. 

“Tell me what you want, baby. Use your words,” Rafe whispered and nipped the lobe of your ear, making you whimper. “You… I want you,” You sighed as his fingers played with the sensitive buds of your breast. “Hm… what else?” Rafe urged, wanting to hear you foul and lewd— wanting you to utter your desires. “I… want… I want to suck you off and then fuck me after,” You whispered, staring into once clear blue eyes that now turned dark with lust and want. You gasped as Rafe altered your position. Him lying on your bed with your cunt hovering over his face. His hands guide you to lower yourself for your sex to meet his lips and your lips to meet his length. 

You could not hold in the moan as his hands forced you to shift all of your weight atop him, and his hand gripped your hair whilst your tongue traced the length of his pulsating member. “Rafe… oh fuck,” You cried as his tongue darted in and out of you, and you finally gathered the courage to take him into your mouth. You had difficulty before; you had quite a sensitive gag reflex, and Rafe’s massive length tested that. “Such a good girl taking me in the pretty mouth… so fucking good, baby.” Rafe praised against your cunt and granted as your cunt grounded itself on his face in search of further friction. Rafe felt the back of your throat squeeze him, and he feared he might spill himself in your mouth; that could not be. He needed to feel you around him before he could let himself feel such pleasurable release. 

You tried to catch your breath as Rafe repositioned you once more, you straddling him again. You buried your head in the crook of his neck as you sank down on his length. You hear Rafe wince in pleasure and pain as you sink into his cock and as you bit down on his shoulder blade. “So fucking tight… all fucking mine,” Rafe gritted as he was finally fully sheathed into you. “Rafe,” You called as you felt tears threatening to spill at the sensation of him being buried deep inside. “This is what you wanted, huh? You wanted to be fucked by me— only me,” You mindlessly nod your head as you feel him brush over a spot that muddle your mind and made your senses only feel pleasure. Rafe buried his face between your heaving chest and inhaled the scent of you deeply. Your hands scratched his back, making tingles reach the bottom of his spine, spurring him closer to climax. 

And though Rafe was desperate for release— he was addicted to the feel of your clinging and clenching around him, to the sweet moans that spewed out of your plump lips, and the tears of pleasure that cascaded down your cheeks. He wanted to savor you in such a state for a few moments more, even if it meant he denied himself the pleasure he had been seeking for the past two weeks. “Rafe… I’m— fuck, Ra…” You could not even finish or properly word out your sentence as pleasure consumed you. “Fucking hell,” Rafe gritted and tilted his head back as he felt your release trigger his own. 

You breathed heavily as you waited for him to spill himself inside you. Trying to compose your mind and control your breathing. You took his face between your hands, looking deeply into his eyes. “Still casual?” You breathlessly asked. Rafe shook his head and gripped your waist tightly. “Never casual.”

[impishjesters]

I have this idea floating around in my brain for a while about a reader who likes to draw and because they have a crush on Jax they draw him. Jax eventually steals their notebook and probably teases them about it lol.

Jax x Crushing!Reader

warning(s): innuendos, bullying/teasing, Jax note(s): Look it's me and Jax, there's gonna be innuendos or some spicy wording and bullying. It's like a packaged deal or something. A/N: If you see me mixing Angel Dust's speech into Jax, no you didn't. If you didn't notice, I don't know how to tease and not be an asshole, so pretty on the brand I guess.

Caine had given you a sketchbook upon request, it was a little different than an actual sketchbook but it did the job regardless. Ever since your arrival, your fingers have been itching to draw, there were so many new sights and so much new inspiration.

There were so many things, so why did it seem like the doodles of Jax ended up on almost every page?

Easy, you had a crush on the apathetic, mischievous jerk named Jax.

Why? Well, now that’s the million-dollar question. He’s not inherently awful, no, that’s a lie, he’s an asshole. You don’t really have a good read on him yet but he’s funny! That’s gotta be redeemable, right? However, his jokes are usually backhanded and often involve being mean at the expense of others.

Okay so he’s a walking red flag but there’s something about him that has you crushing on the purple bastard.

Looking down at the sketchbook on your lap shows another two pages filled with sketches of random things, though most of the page is filled with Jax. You had taken to sketching things back in the real world to remind yourself of home, but eventually, those sketches would involve Jax doing mundane things.

Thing’s like sitting at a table eating real food, though you took creative measures when drawing an open mouth on him, it still looked off but it was serene and domestic. Then there’s the little sketch at the bottom of the page of Jax leaning against a window and staring outside. You’d manage to nab the pose and angle when he was leaning against one of the many random geometrical-shaped things in the main room and later added in a window.

It was embarrassing that almost more than half of the pages in the book involved Jax to some degree. Some pages weren’t even subtle, the whole page taking up a detailed portrait version of the male. Sometimes you even got creative and put him in different clothing.

Thumbing through the pages you saw there weren’t that many empty pages left. You’d need to ask Caine for another one and figure out what to do with this one. It couldn’t be left out in the open, you knew Jax had keys to everyone’s room and wouldn’t put it past him to go snooping. He’d already questioned you about the sketchbook before.

You’d been so focused on the sketchbook that you hadn’t noticed the man of the hour walking up. Jax noticed your intense focus and peeked over to see the infamous sketchbook on your lap, and with practiced ease managed to yoink it right off your lap.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? You finally showing me what you keep your nose buried into?”

A yelp left you, stumbling to get on your feet you rushed to him and began swatting at the book and of course, he’d keep raising it just out of reach. “You took it! I didn’t say you could look at that!”

“Nah, pretty sure you said I could look at it.” He continued to lower and raise the book as you jumped to grab it. Sure he was curious before, but with a reaction like that? How could he not be even more curious? What kind of seedy shit were you drawing? Or perhaps some spicy nonfamily-friendly content?

Jax ignored your frantic words and opened the book to a random page, he was going to tease you about whatever dumb stuff you drew since you always had your nose in it but all he saw were sketches of himself.

A normal person might get embarrassed and hand the book back, but he’s not a normal person. It’s a little freaky, he won’t lie. A glance downwards shows him you’ve gone silent in front of him, simply staring down while he invades the privacy that was your sketchbook.

Your face is red and you look like you’re going to cry any second.

He’s a jerk, he was going to fuck with you, and he still is, but for the moment he’s taking in all the creative little pieces involving his face. Ya know, he never really thought much about how he’d look in other clothes. Gotta say he looks pretty snazzy in something that isn’t these shitty overalls.

“You know if I didn’t know any better,” his fingers still flip through the pages as he steps closer, circling you. “I’d say you like me.”

“I don’t.”

The reply is rushed and he rolls his eyes at the blatant lie, he’ll humor you this time. “Oh yeah? Does that mean you’ve got sketchbooks for everyone else too? Cause I’m pretty sure this is the only one I’ve seen you with.” He taps a doodle on the cover that gives away it’s the same notebook he always sees you with.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, you knew he was a jerk but this felt like too much. You just wanted your sketchbook back and to run away to your room, maybe pin something in front of the door that would render even the key useless.

His eyes roll the second he sees a tear, he’s not really seeing the problem here. You’ve got a book full of creepy—okay not completely creepy, he’s a good model so good on you for seeing that—sketches of him and he’s truthfully honored. It’s clear that you didn’t do this with everyone, so he’s honored to be your little model. Besides, it’s not like you actually have a crush on him, right?

Minutes tick by of him simply eyeing you, you’re still crying and it’s starting to get a little ugly and snotty, ugh. But you aren’t trying to further deny his little comment about you liking him. He’ll have to have a little talk about that later, what you could possibly see in him because he knows that you aren’t a sadist—oh, are you a masochist? That’d explain a lot.

Jax sighs and closes the book but doesn’t hand it over, simply putting the free hand on his hip. “You know if you wanted to see my face all you gotta do is ask. I’ll gladly show you this handsome face any day toots.”

Of all the things you thought he’d say, that wasn’t it. “H-huh..?” You embarrassingly wipe away the tears and snot before looking up at him.

“You heard me. Ya know I love this face too, very handsome. Maybe we can get Caine to put up some artwork in the tent of yours truly.” Jax wouldn’t consider himself vain, but you did have a way of making him look more, dare he say, attractive.

“I-I don’t… I don’t understand…” Was he still making fun of you?

He rolls his eyes before playfully hitting your head with the book. “Jeez, and here I thought you were smart.” Jax leaned over like he was speaking to a child and pushed the book to your chest. “I’m saying, the next time you wanna draw me I’ll give you a front-row seat. Maybe even take it to the bedroom so we won’t be disturbed.”

You push the book into his face to cover up that growing smirk and blush furiously. “Wh-what?! N-no I-I don’t…!” It’s hard to tell if he’s being serious or not in his offer to model for you, especially with the bedroom comment.

“C’mon, clearly you got taste. I mean that book is filled with sketches of me. I’ll commend you on your immaculate taste.” Jax taps the book before playfully bopping your nose. “At least let me give you the pleasure of seeing me close up. I’ve never been a model before so you might have to get a little hands-on to get me the way you want me.”

As the innuendos continue your face feels like it’s getting impossibly red and warm. Somehow this is worse than him telling you a sketchbook full of his face is creepy, in fact, you’d almost prefer it because your poor little heart can’t take anymore. You let out a yell and it stops his tangent but that stupid smirk of his never disappears.

“Offer still stands. You know where to find me.” Jax turns away but not before throwing a little wink over his shoulder. He still plans on pestering you about what you see in him, but for now, he’ll cut you some slack. You’re about as red as Ragatha’s hair and as much as he loves to see it, he didn’t plan to get this sidetracked when he saw you on your own.

He’s got a sucker to prank.

[sinnabum45]

Regrets and Apology

Link to help Palestine and other resources! 🇵🇸

[Plain text: Links to help Palestine and other resources! (palestine flag). End plain text.]

[Image description: Black and white digital comic of Ace Attorney characters Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth.

Page one: Phoenix is facing away from the viewer with a speech bubble: “I was angry that [red text] you didn’t even bother telling me [end red text], or anyone, that you were suffering so much…” A memory of a tired Miles looking to the side saying, “I’m tired, Wright. I feel as if… something inside of me has died.” Phoenix’s hand is holding Miles’ crumpled resignation letter. Phoenix: “But the truth was that [red text] you did. [end red text] You did tell me and [red text] I left you to deal with it alone. I even hurt you. [end red text] I just… Couldn’t take the fact that [red text] I could’ve helped you, but I didn’t. [end red text] Finding a reason to blame you was a lot easier than facing the fact that [red text] I couldn’t save you [end red text] from your past.” Phoenix is on the far left of the page with an angry expression. Pearl is holding onto his arm and looking back at Miles. She has a worried expression. Miles is on the far right of the page. He is holding his right arm with his left hand and looking down with a hurt expression. Page one end.

Page two: Present Phoenix is smiling sadly, facing away from the viewer at Miles. Phoenix: “haha Pretty pathetic, huh?” Miles reacts with an uncomfortable shift while looking at Phoenix. They look away from each other in silence. Miles, facing away from viewer: “You’re not pathetic, Wright.” Phoenix twitches with a guilty expression. A memory of Miles sitting at his desk with crumpled paper all over the desk. He is crying with a blank expression while holding a pen over a sheet of paper. Miles: “I was too deep in my own pain that [red text] I justified disregarding everyone and everything else… I was a coward and ran away without saying a word. [end red text] How can one not feel grief from such selfishness?” Page two end.

Page three: Miles, facing away from the viewer, looks down. Miles “… Wright, I’m sorry for running away. I’m sorry for abandoning everything I used to be… For abandoning you.” Phoenix is surprised. Phoenix then puts his hand on Miles’ shoulder and Miles looks up at him. Phoenix: “I’m sorry for abandoning you, too, Edgeworth… And I’m sorry for saying those horrible things to you.” Page three end.

Page four: Phoenix starts to lean closer to Miles with tears in his eyes. Miles’ expression stiffens. Phoenix: “ I… I don’t want to lose you again.” Phoenix is right in front of Miles’ face and a tear falls. Phoenix: “I’m glad you came back, Edgeworth.” Phoenix hugs Miles and they start crying. Phoenix: “ I missed you…” Page four end.

Page five: Doodles of different scenarios. Top left: Miles is holding Phoenix’s arm while looking away and blushing. Phoenix is shocked, but smiling. Miles: “W-Wright… Would you like to have dinner together?” Phoenix: “HUH?! Oh- um… Yeah!!” Top right: Miles is looking away and holding his right arm. He looks pained. Phoenix is looking at Miles with a worried expression. Miles’ thought: “How could I have done that? He must be so disappointed in me… It’d be better if I wasn’t here.” Phoenix’s thought: “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re stronger than you think, Edgeworth.” Bottom left: Phoenix is facing the viewer with a scared expression, sweating. Miles is glaring at Phoenix from behind with a menacing aura around him. Text: “Hyping himself up to talk to Phoenix [arrow pointing at Miles]” Bottom right: Phoenix is wearing his beanie with a stubble. He is talking on the phone with a smile on his face and his eyes are closed. Trucy is next to him happily yelling something. There is a split to where Miles is. Miles holding his book and smiling while talking to Phoenix on the phone. Box text “They’re not perfect, but they’re trying.” End description]

This is supposed to be a part 2 of the comic where Miles spirals. You don't have to read that one to understand this one, but I'll link it if you want to see it! (TW// suicide ideation, graphic depiction of suicide attempt) Link to the comic

Some of my opinions/thoughts below! I tried my best to make it make sense-- 🙇🏻‍♀️

There was supposed to be a whole scene where Miles calls Phoenix, they talk over the phone for a bit, and decide to meet up. I didn't know what they'd say and I didn't the energy, so I skipped to their conversation-- 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

Also, I was skimming through case 1-5 again and I noticed that Miles was actually very open and communicative about what he was feeling and going through. Even Phoenix (and everyone tbh) noticed how badly Miles was suffering. They saw it with their own eyes, too. I hear a lot of people in the fandom talk about how Miles doesn't communicate his feelings at all, so I was surprised to see that.

Although it doesn't excuse Miles hurting his friends, it made me understand more of why Miles probably felt alone and had to deal with his problems himself. It'd be hard to trust people/ask for help when they've either betrayed you in some of the worst ways possible, ignored you, minimized your feelings, or is a literal child. I love Lana, but imo she was probably one of the worst person at the time to be the one telling Miles to trust people. From Miles' POV she just betrayed and traumatized him, so I find it hard to think that Miles could listen to her about trust even if he wanted to.

Even with Phoenix. They're not close at this time and so far, no fault on Phoenix, Miles hasn't had many good experiences with Phoenix in adulthood. Yes, Phoenix solved DL-6, which Miles seems really grateful for, but he leaves Miles to deal with the aftermath alone. Of course, it's hard to know how to help someone suffering with trauma. (I really don't like the whole "saving" Miles from his trauma, cuz you can't just do that?? Like they both say that... 🤨) Regardless, Miles didn't really have anyone he felt like he could trust there. At least according to the games, Phoenix drops everything because Maya left. He didn't get in contact with Miles until case 1-5. Throughout the OG trilogy, Phoenix thinks a lot of things, but rarely says them out loud to comfort/reassure his friends. It's common for people to be uncomfortable with having to verbally comfort others so they choose to not say anything at all, but that will have its consequences, too.

I like to think that they did apologize to each other or something. Phoenix seems to put in more effort to verbally show his concern and comforts Miles. He even thought about "hugging it out" with Miles when he thought that Miles would need it. That scene was so cute 🥺

I get that realistically, a lot of people struggle with proper communication, but people have the ability to learn and grow, so I want to portray these characters with that in mind. They don't have to be perfect, but they don't have to be completely toxic either. I like it when characters like each other (romantically or platonically) and actually show it. Which I do notice that AA portrays a lot! I do think the characters could be a bit harsh to each other for no reason, too, but that's just me cuz I'm sensitive-- 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ lol I haven't gotten into AJAA yet, but I did see some scenes. I love how Miles and Phoenix could just have random conversations now. They seem so much more comfortable with each other than the earlier games. I want to see more of how the all of the characters' relationships changed over time throughout the games! 😆🤲 (Might take forever cuz my brain is already bursting with just part of the 1st trilogy)

If you have read until here, thank you for your time! As always, I love seeing people's interpretations/thoughts, so that's why I want to share mine, too. If you want to share your thoughts on this post, feel free to do so! Just please be respectful 👍

[ladytabletop]

A Breakdown of WotC’s OGL 1.1

Here’s some things to consider:

If you created any 5e stuff under OGL 1.0, you can’t keep creating it and the agreement that protected you from copyright lawsuits is “unauthorized”.

But LT, they can’t copyright mechanics!

Yes and no. They can’t copyright a d20. They can’t copyright a character having ability scores, or skills, or rounds of combat. But they can copyright the way it’s presented, and they can copyright the whole framework of all those individual mechanics. So no, scrubbing mentions of 5e out of your work isn’t going to protect you necessarily. Case in point:

This doesn’t just affect indie creators.

So yeah. Pathfinder in jeopardy, folks. And in case you thought the new OGL wasn’t explicitly trying to spite Paizo:

You cannot opt out of the new OGL.

If you create anything other than a print or digital ttrpg book, you cannot sell anything affiliated with DnD. Non-commercial use only.

So nice of them to give creators time to get their products updated:

Jan 13. That’s in 8 days, if you’re counting. I personally have a dozen products that would need to be submitted to the new OGL in that time frame, or changed so much that they don’t violate it. It’s over 1000 pages. To comply with the OGL, I would have to list every single thing that was covered by the original OGL and distinguish it from my original content.

I have a day job. Most creators in this industry have day jobs. This is an unreasonably short amount of time to get into compliance (which I don’t recommend anyway, for reasons we’ll discuss shortly).

Tiers of the Commercial License

So, that Expert Tier: Paizo is gonna fall in that. And if they want a custom deal that doesn’t force them to turn over 25% of their profits to WotC, WotC has to initiate it and set the terms.

Here’s the big kicker. Community surveillance. They’re relying on reporting of people who don’t register stuff. It’s meant to scare folks into compliance, most likely, and it will work. Most small creators couldn’t afford the legal fees if WotC decided to sue, and so have to decide if it’s worth the risk to keep selling without registering. The reason this is a big red flag is because they own, in perpetuity, your stuff. And they can change or revoke the agreement whenever they want.

They covered crowdfunding too:

TL;DR: The new OGL 1.1 is bad for creators and in line with WotC’s goal of wringing profits from DnD.

Source

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Could I get an interaction between Riddle and Gidel please?

I imagine that maybe Gidel sneaks off while Fellow is busy schmoozing the other students during a croquet match or something and finds the kitchens and proceeds to just devour the beautiful strawberry tart in the fridge with his hands. But then, poor Gidel gets caught red-handed (lol) and with stuffed cheeks by none other than Riddle himself? Thank you!

Riddle and Fellow duke it out in a passive aggressive croquet game :DD

So tell me, do you wanna go?

Gidel had never been to a party before. When Fellow told him that they’d been invited to one, his little heart vibrated with excitement. He had heard many stories about the dancing, the music, the chatter, the games, the food—and longed to live those tales.

“You don’t have to do anything, Giddie. Leave the schmoozin’ to me and just enjoy yourself,” Fellow had told him.

And so here they were now, in a lavish rose garden.

Gidel was seated toward the front--a guest of honor, according to the dorm leader--but he was too short to properly reach the table, so the students had stacked a few books to boost him higher. He kicked his feet back and forth, taking in the liveliness around him.

Gidel was used to crowds (they were where he and Fellow often found their victims), but there was a fresh energy to this one. The conversation was giddy and effervescent, like the sugary drinks that came in metal cans and tickled his nose when it went down.

Above his head were strings of little flags and lanterns, and the tablecloths were so clean and free of holes. Few of the chairs and silverware matched, like the patterns in his clothes and the few items he owned. Such a thing, he had learned, was a source of shame and ridicule. "People don't like things that stick out. They look at 'cha dirty if you are," Fellow would grumble. Yet no one here seemed to be bothered by it. They lounged casually in those chairs that didn't match and drank tea from cups that had completely different designs.

More food than Gidel had ever seen in his life appeared as if by magic. It was served on tiered stands and in fancy pots. Finger sandwiches, elaborate cookies, cupcakes, clotted cream, jams, scones, and tea in various shades. An older boy in a hat and glasses had even ferried in a massive upside down cake, wider at the top and tapering into a narrow bottom. It defied all laws of gravity and had live sparklers stuck into the top. The server caught the curious glint in Gidel's eyes and offered a crooked grin.

Not the look of someone seeking revenge for almost being turned into a puppet. but the look of a mischievous older brother.

"Haha, excited to dig in? I'll cut you an extra big slice then," Trey whispered, "but remember to brush your teeth well afterwards. We'll get started after they finish up the croquet game."

Gidel followed his gaze to the open lawn.

Several students had gathered there, each grasping a live flamingo. Fellow casually leaned on his, talking in an animated manner with a short redhead in a crown. Riddle was angling his mallet on a curled up hedgehog--the ball--to force it through a series of grounded hoops.

He swung. His ball rocketed, clearing five hoops. The other player's jaws dropped. Fellow’s, most of all.

Riddle smirked. "Naturally."

“What the heck, how are you that good?!” Fellow demanded. He looked again, just to make sure that he was seeing things correctly.

Yup, that ball had still cleared 5 hoops.

“These are the results of much studying and practice. I do not lose.” His cold stare cut right to two boys—one with a diamond painted on his face, and the other, a heart. “Unlike some people, I do not sneak off of campus on school nights to seek thrills at an amusement park.”

Ace coughed into a fist and refused to meet his dorm leader’s eyes.

“Ehhhh~ No way, Riddle-kun! Who would do that? Sooo irresponsible of them!”

“D-Diamond-senpai, upperclassmen shouldn’t blatantly dodge responsibility like this…” Deuce muttered.

Riddle rapped his mallet against an open palm like a gavel tapping patiently before a sentencing. "In any case, Fellow-san… Would you care to go next as one of our esteemed guests? And to be clear, I will be keeping a close eye on you. There will be no foul play on my watch.”

Fellow gulped, but kept his cool. "Sure thing. Let’s have an honest and fair game, gentlemen!”

"Go easy on the poor guy, Riddle," Trey called to him. He left the table and wandered onto the field, clapping his friend on the back.

“I don’t see why I should,” Riddle retorted. He sounded vaguely irritated, but there was the trace of a held back laugh in his words.

Gidel smiled to himself. It was nice, the two’s camaraderie.

The sky was clear, the sun was shining, and the birds were singing. The roses were in full bloom.

It was a lovely day.

Gidel practically melted in his seat. He could stay at this party forever.

Bright blue fluttered in his vision. A tickling sensation filled his nose, and he rubbed at it to dispel the feeling. Had a piece of the sky fallen onto him?

Flap, flap.

A butterfly lazily floated off of Gidel.

The boy sat up straighter.

It was mesmerizing, that butterfly. With the sunlight streaming through it's papery cerulean wings, it almost resembled stained glass.

Pretty...

Gidel extended his arms out toward it, attempting to cup the bug in his palms. It evaded, dipping in the air and heading toward the Heartslabyul dorm.

He hopped out of his seat and trailed after the butterfly, waving his arms in an attempt to coax it back. But no--it vanished inside, and Gidel, like a foolish child being lured to a candy house in the woods, followed.

Gidel didn't pay any mind to where the butterfly led him. He only knew that he wanted to catch it, and so he would tread wherever it went.

Soon enough, he had wandered into the kitchen, fumbling around for the butterfly in the dark. For a heartbeat, the creature landed on a handle and rested there. Gidel pounced--but missed, and the butterfly, startled, hurriedly flew away.

He tried to go after it, but his sleeves, ensnared in the handle, caught and tugged something open. Cold light spilled out from the inside of a box, and Gidel knew this was called a refrigerator.

He peered in, wondering if the older brother from before had stored more goodies inside. Indeed, there were more sweet treats stashed away. Tall trifles, wobbling jellies, and...

Gidel's eyes fixated on a beautiful strawberry tart. Its crust, golden and ruffled like intricate lace. The custard filling, thick and creamy. Glistening red fruit had been sliced thin and meticulously laid out, the strawberries shaping into a blossoming rose.

His mouth watered.

He reached for the tart.

Before Gidel realized what he was doing, he had plunged his fingers into the innards. Scooping out custard and strawberries by the handful, he deposited them in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, then went back for more.

So sweet, so delicious. He wanted more and more.

He broke off a chunk of the shell and bit into it. It was tough and crumbly. Gidel decided that he liked it better after dunking it in custard and eating it with a slice of strawberry.

Right as he had assembled a piece, a person appeared from the hallway. They stood in the doorway to the kitchen, their figure shadowed. Gidel squinted.

Whoever it was, they were short and wore a crown on their head.

The kitchen lights flickered on.

Riddle Rosehearts came into view. He wore a stern expression as he approached, steps brisk and sharp. "So this is where you ran off to. You had your guardian so worried he dropped his flamingo to look for--"

He skidded to a stop, staring at the mess of juices and crumbs at the feet of the fridge. Gidel crouched nearby, hands and clothes sticky and red or covered in traces of his crime.

Rage hit him like truck--speedy and sudden. Rules, broken? Decorum, ignored? His entire face turned crimson, steam threatening to pour from his ears.

Riddle's voice came, low and menacing. "You ate the strawberry tart meant for the unbirthday party and you made this mess?"

He advanced on the boy, raising his scepter.

Gidel blanched. Trembling terribly, he shrank into his oversized clothes like a turtle retreating into its shell. Warm wetness prickled his eyes. He whimpered without a single sound.

Riddle's scepter froze, as did his resolve. The fire that was his anger came in and out like the flame of a candle exposed to wind.

A sad little child. Scolded for having eaten a forbidden tart. Apologizing, sobbing, begging to not be punished.

Now who does that remind you of?

A dull pain radiated from the recesses of his heart. The plant called Pity had germinated, its roots opening a home for itself in his chest.

You aren't in the right here.

Riddle sucked in a breath through his teeth.

Like his therapist had advised him to do, he started at 10 and slowly counted down from it. Slowly, slowly, his fury subsided, like air being released from a balloon. Anger management magic.

When he spoke again, he was softer, gentler.

“… You are forgiven."

He wasn't used to it.

Riddle awkwardly offered a hand. “Come. Let’s get you cleaned up in the washroom. We can’t have you returning to the unbirthday party in this state.”

Gidel stared inquisitively at it. At him. The stranger with the temper, the stranger now asking for his trust.

But he had tried, hadn’t he? Tried, and succeeded in controlling his anger.

A moment’s hesitation, and Gidel slipped his strawberry-stained sleeve into Riddle’s palm. He nodded to the dorm leader.

Let’s go.

To where everyone is waiting for us.

[scaranation]

hi hi !! could you write an ANGST with Dottore and Zhongli where we break up with them? maybe in dottore we break up because we can't bear(?) his experiments anymore and in Zhongli one we feel not enough/that he loves someone else (maybe Guizhong?)

Gn reader or Fem!reader(if u write for fem. sorry if u do not,i couldnt find rules and im really really sorry ! :( ... )

p.s will there be To love another 3rd part? it's my fav fanfic ever !!

love your work ♡♡

hihihi i know this is like super late but this prompt is literally so good 😭 also im thinking of writing another part to that fic, but i just dont know where to take it so ive been procrastinating haha

dottore’s part is kinda ooc bcs let’s be real if he’s that whipped for reader he wouldn’t let them break up with him, but im going to pretend that he’s not as much of a red flag as he actually is 🤭🤭

༊*·˚ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅

Pairing: Dottore x GN!reader, Zhongli x GN!reader (separate)

Content: Angst, no comfort. Mentions of canon typical violence, assumed past Guizhong x Zhongli

DOTTORE

“It seems my beloved has finally thought to visit me.”

You cringed from the overpowering metallic scent as you stepped into your boyfriend’s laboratory, trying hard not to look at the borderline gruesome sights on the clinical beds.

Dottore cleaned the blood off a bone saw he was holding, setting the instrument down carefully before walking towards you - eyes lit up, but holding a gleam different to the maniacal one he usually possessed.

“How was your day, my love?” His voice was humorous. He seemed to be in a good mood, humming lightly while opening the door for you.

“It was fine.” You sighed as you felt the weight of Dottore’s harbinger coat settle across your shoulders, registering the touch of his hand as he pulled you into him and away from the Snezhnayan cold.

“Has that coworker of yours still been bothering you?”

“… Don’t try pretending.”

“Whatever could you be talking about?” The Doctor’s grip on you tightened.

“I wouldn’t wish death on anyone, even if they annoyed me to that extent.” You sighed, finally tilting your head to stare into the planes of your lover’s mask.

“Oh, they’re not dead. Rather, they’ve been subject to some biological modifications of an experimental kind - would you like to see?”

You gritted your teeth.

“I’m hungry, don’t make me lose my appetite.”

“Good thing I have a nice place booked for dinner, my love.”

His compliance was almost uncanny.

-

Normal couples gazed affectionately into each other’s eyes over meat and wine, fingers fondly interlaced over the dining table. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to return Dottore’s adoring scarlet gaze, and his hold on your hand felt more like a death trap.

“Is the food to your liking?” He asked. He hadn’t touched any of the vegetables on his plate, only biting into the steak.

“Yes. You should eat greens, too.” You commented.

“Mm. Why don’t you feed me, then?” Dottore only tilted his head, smiling eagerly. Recently, a fear of you being turned into one of the harbinger’s countless experiments had taken hold, and it was this same fear that drove you to play right how he wanted. And so, lifting your fork, you fed him with all the patience you could muster - staring into those deep red eyes, feeling like nothing more than prey. Those eyes would’ve been the last thing many others had seen before their death, the end of their lives marked by that sadistic grin. You almost shuddered at the thought.

Normal couples slept under starry nights reflected in their star crossed hearts as they cuddled close under soft sheets. Normality was such a strange concept, you decided. Despite the fact that you were doing just what normal couples should, the situation was still absurd. However, your fear of becoming another one of the harbinger’s lab rats wasn’t unfounded. You mulled over this fact, almost snorting at the juxtaposition. Here you were - wondering if the man who cradled you in his arms would strap you down to a table in the name of research.

“My love, are you still awake?” You felt Dottore’s breath ghost over your neck, his face pressing into your nape. With a rustle, he readjusted the blanket over your shoulders.

“Yeah, I can’t sleep.”

“Nightmares, perhaps? I have a pill you can use for those.”

“No, just… thinking.” You squirmed in Dottore’s hold. His comment only reignited your spiralling train of thought, pushing you further to the point of resolve.

If he could kill his clones - literal versions of himself - then what would stop him from doing the same to you? Even if you remained alive, would you have to continue to tolerate being exposed to such grotesque horrors?

It was simply better to break things off, before you no longer had the option to.

Breakfast.

The first meal of the day, and the last meal you’d share with your boyfriend.

“Dottore.”

“Yes?” The Doctor’s head jerked up immediately from where he was chewing. You could feel the undivided weight of all his attention sinking into you, and for a moment, you faltered. He was notorious for paying little mind to anyone else, and yet, he treated you with the utmost attentiveness. You steeled your resolve.

“I think… we should break up.”

Silence. Then, the grating scrape of cutlery against crockery.

“Why.”

Not a question, more of a demand. You gulped.

“Do you want me to be honest with you?”

“Yes. Is it something I did?”

“I can’t bear your experiments anymore, Dottore. They’ve gone too far, and I don’t think I can stomach living normally with you as if I don’t know the kind of things you do. Even worse, every day I’m wary that I might be your next test subject - whenever I walk into your lab, I wonder when I’ll be the one under your needles. It’s exhausting.”

Another beat of silence. You could see Dottore’s chest rising and falling at an increasingly fast pace, his jaw tensing.

“I would never, ever do that to you. It’s ridiculous that you’d even think that, and as for your prior reason… I can arrange for you to come to the lab less often…”

“So you’re just going to cover my eyes and act like you’re not doing anything with those experiments? I just can’t be ignorant here, nor can I trust you. If you can get rid of your clones so easily, then what am I? What value do I hold-“

“Those creations do not even compare to you.” Dottore finally snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. You flinched, and he felt as though his lung capacity had been halved. His head spun in tandem with the rapid tightening of his heart, his mouth twisting into a scowl.

It hurt Dottore, realising that you didn’t trust him. That all those fond, intimate memories together were just you acting out of fear - or at least, the most recent ones were. It hurt, beyond anything Dottore thought he could inflict on his patients. And even worse, you were frightened of him. The light shaking of your shoulders and the way you flinched were enough indication.

The Doctor enjoyed seeing his victims become terrified, but that same terror on you almost made him feel like he’d been the one stabbed with a scalpel. Foolishly, he’d fallen victim to his own maniacal research tendencies.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just meant to say… that you can trust me.” Dottore raised his hand towards you to cup your cheek, wincing when you avoided the action.

“I tried to, I really did. But I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

“My love, please.”

The second harbinger was begging. What a strange sight.

“Let me go, Dottore.” You murmured shakily. You saw hesitation, hurt, and anger flit through those vermilion eyes you’d used to love. But that love you held for him had only smouldered into disgust and fear.

“… Then go. Get out of my sight.” Dottore hissed, his teeth clenching at the wary expression on your face.

It was painful, how you walked out without a second glance.

“My love…” Dottore whispered. He stared at the closed door, almost expecting you to return. He repeated the phrase, over and over to himself - his face contorting into an expression he himself couldn’t name. Was there truly an emotion as human as this? It was a twisted, unimaginable feeling the Doctor couldn’t categorise. The syllables came off his quivering lips, as though by uttering them he could make you come back.

But the truth was, your not-so-normal relationship was over. Perhaps, Dottore would return to the normality of his heartless experiments, and you’d return to the normality of a better fate than one you’d endure by his side.

He only regretted not being able to hold you more.

ZHONGLI

There were only two letters between you and your lover, but those two letters seemed to stretch wider every day - ‘I’, and ‘M’. The seemingly infinite synapse between mere ‘mortal’, and ‘immortal’.

Zhongli was undeniably a mortal vessel, but he as a being was not. He’d lived eons before you, loved and hated thousands. He’d experienced things you couldn’t even fathom, and yet, you couldn’t comprehend how he treated you as though your fleeting existence was the centre of his much larger world.

Whenever you looked into Zhongli’s amber eyes, heard his deep laugh, or felt his gentle caress, you could only feel insignificant. After all, he used to be a literal god. You couldn’t help the guilt that gnawed at your conscience, couldn’t stamp out the incessant feeling that he was too good for you, that you couldn’t compare to whatever lovers he’d had in the past.

“How’s the tea, darling?” Zhongli prompted. He sat with his back to the window, basking in an almost ethereal glow.

“Ah, I have yet to try it.” You shook yourself out of your thoughts to raise the cup in front of you. Zhongli only smiled warmly, but the gesture made your hand shake a little. You’d planned to break up with him today, and yet the way he still stared lovingly at you - full of infinite trust - made you feel terrible.

But how many others had he also treated this way? In his life, those others were probably far more special than you, possessing talents far more worthy of a god’s attention.

Suddenly, a shattering sound pierced your ears, and a scalding warmth set into your thigh. You looked down in a daze, before snapping out of it upon realising that you’d dropped the teacup.

“Are you okay?” Zhongli was at your side in an instant, mopping up the spilled tea and collecting the broken fragments of the cup.

“Yeah.” You gritted your teeth again. How dare someone as insignificant as you make Rex Lapis get down on his knees to clean the mess you’d made. It simply made you feel as though you didn’t deserve such a wonderful man at all.

“You’ve been distracted lately. Is there anything I should know about?” Zhongli asked slowly.

“No. Well, yes.” You stammered. You hadn’t planned this out very well, and your heart squeezed tighter.

“Go ahead. You know you can tell me anything, darling.”

A warm hand came to rest against your cheek. You closed your eyes, feeling tears build and slip down your face.

Zhongli wiped at your tears, holding your hands in your lap as he looked up at you worriedly - his thumbs tracing comforting circles on your knuckles. He thought of saying something, before deciding against it. He knew it was better to let you speak first.

“Let’s break up.” You blurted, feeling Zhongli’s fingers come to a complete stop.

“We can work through this, tell me why first. Has something been upsetting you?”

Your tears fell harder. He still showed you so much kindness, never jumping to any conclusions.

“I feel like I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, it makes me feel guilty that someone like me can have you.” You sobbed.

“Darling, you know it makes me happy to just spend time with you. That in itself is fair exchange, no?”

“But what makes that so special? You’ve lived for so long, you could’ve done this with anyone else, and you probably have. Who am I in comparison to someone like Guizhong?”

Through your blurred vision, you could still see Zhongli’s form kneeled by your side. He seemed to be choosing his next words carefully.

“You and her are both special, in your own way. Why don’t you calm down a little first? I can pour you some more tea.”

“I’m so selfish, Zhongli. I really don’t think I can stay with you.”

“Do you really want to leave that badly?”

Your heart twisted. You didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay in his warm embrace, his soft understanding gaze. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“… Yes.”

“Very well then. You know I won’t stop you, because I just want what’s best for you.”

The light grip on your hands released, and as you stood up everything seemed to spin.

“Thank you… for everything.” You murmured, stealing one last glance at the man you loved - before leaving.

Zhongli remained where he was for some time. In his life, many things came to an end, but this hurt a little more. When Guizhong had left him, it was due to her passing - the youthful Rex Lapis had found someone to blame, to ventilate his grief. But the most crude fact in this situation was that you were still alive, and had chosen to leave him of your own volition. Zhongli himself had made this happen.

However, an archon’s most prized trait was impartiality. Therefore, Zhongli knew that he had to maintain indifference. He refused to let himself chase after you, or force you into anything. It was only unfair, if an immortal were to impose such a fate onto a mortal.

And so, he could only watch as you faded from his life, like the cyclic ebb of waves on an ocean shore.