#sorry if this makes no sense i don’t have my glasses rn

[mibuchis]

drew this last night then funnily enough i, myself fell asleep and didn’t post it lol. just a quick little doodle anyways bc the idea of doing a full personal piece while finishing my coursework makes my head want to explode lol

#sorry if this makes no sense i don’t have my glasses rn #also the tablets i’m taking cuz i’m sick are making me tired af #but anyways… love them for life #knb #kuroko no basket #mayumibu #mayuzumi chihiro #mibuchi reo #me subjecting you all to my random af rarepair again

[marleyybluu]

Glasses

Husband!Oscar x black!wife!reader

Word count: 2k

Content warning: fluffy fluffy, Oscar is a stubborn husband, a little sexy flirtatiousness at the end, just your typical married couple and we love it, reader is hot for Oscar and his glasses (I mean I would be too tf)

A/N: bare in mind that i don’t have glasses idk how the process goes lmao I just made shit up so sorry if it’s not accurate I guess. Who cares we’re in make believe land rn

Sorry for typos && bad translations if any

(I know these aren’t glasses glasses but… you get it lmao)

"Mama..." Rafa says poking your arm, you look down at him and smile. "Yes?"

"Why is Dad making that face?" He asks pointing over to Oscar who's holding his phone down in his lap with his head tilted up slightly so that he can see the screen better. You shook your head. That old bastard was a stubborn one. You have noticed for months now that Spooky is squinting to read everything, he's holding things at certain angles just the see the words correctly. He even has the kids reading things for him when he flat-out can't make out any of the words.

And of course, you've confronted him about it, saying if he wanted you could schedule an appointment with an optometrist and get his vision checked but he tells you— "No, mamita, I'm fine."

Stubborn Jack ass.

You roll your eyes and sigh dramatically. "Mi hijo, maybe you can talk some sense into your big-headed father. Because he won't listen to me." You say loud enough for your husband to hear. He grumbles and looks over at you, so tempted to say something disrespectful but your son is there. You wiggle your eyebrows taunting him.

"Papa, I think you need gafas."(glasses)

Spooky breathes heavily like a dragon, you swear smoke comes out of his nose too. "Mira, baby, let me just take you to check your eyes. If I'm wrong I'll eat my words and do anything you want."

His ears perk up at the offer. "Anything?"

And you knew what that tone meant. Spooky had been asking for another baby sooner rather than later but you constantly rebuttal with the fact that your third child, Emilia, was only a year old and you refused to have two under two. "Yes, anything." You reply confidently knowing you'd win this battle. He says it's a deal and you smile proudly keeping a reminder to make his appointment later.

-- --

In the days leading up to the appointment, he swore up and down that you'd be wrong, that you'll soon be walking around with a round belly all over again and he couldn't wait to see it. You remain quiet and shrug, occasionally giggling at how cocky he was about this.

After dropping the kids off at your mom's, you two head over to the Optometrist. You're pleasantly greeted by the woman at the front desk who asks you who the appointment is for. Oscar finds himself a seat and huffs like a child. You roll your eyes and mention his name. "I'm assuming you made the appointment." She smiles light-heartedly. "That obvious?"

"Trust me, I've got one at home whose chain I have to pull to even get him to the doctor. They're all like that."

You giggle and look over your shoulder at him as he pouts and looks at his new shoes. The receptionist says she'll let the doctor know you two were there and be back to guide you to a room. You take a seat next to Oscar who immediately puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing at your supple flesh. "So, what do you think the next baby will be? I hope it's a boy, I can't lie."

"Will you shut the fuck up? You are not winning this bet, Diaz."

He looks around before trailing his hand up your dress, your eyes widen when his fingers brush over your panties. "Who you talkin' to like that? Don't let this bet get you fucked up."

You swallow your attitude and shrink in the chair, he removes his hand and gently kisses your temple. Maybe he'd get another baby out of you regardless.

It wasn't long before you two were called in. Once in the room, Oscar was told to sit in the chair that was hooked up to everything while you sat in the extra chair not too far from them. He starts by asking Oscar about his medical history; and if anyone in his family has problems with their vision but he says, "Not as far as I know."

You watch as he's asked to read the chart across the room and he instinctively squints, you cover your mouth to stop your giggles.

Even with the act of squinting he ends up getting a lot of them wrong.

He's tested furthermore and, honestly, it was not looking too good. He was struggling so much that it was truly getting to him, his nails scape at the jeans over his knee caps-- taps them once in a while whenever he lets out a frustrated sigh. You were beginning to feel bad for him, wanting to whisper the letters to him so he didn't feel so... shitty.

The lights in the room turn on and the optometrist sits in his chair. "Mr. Diaz, unfortunately, I do think you'll need some prescription glasses. You are more farsighted in your right eye than you are in your left. The left eye seems to be fine for now. So, I will put in an order for a pair of lenses and when they're ready we'll give you a call to pick out the frames."

Oscar sighs, he sounds so defeated. You two thank the doctor and make your way out of the office building and back to the car. He sucks his teeth while buckling his seatbelt, he crosses his arms and waits for you to put the car in drive but you don't budge. "Why are you acting like this?"

He shrugs. "Let's just go."

"No. What are you upset about?"

"I'm old."

There was a moment of silence, took you a a minute to realize he was serious. "I'm old, mama. I can't see shit, I'm tired, I'm cranky. I'm fucking old. Next thing you know I can't play with my kids, can't play Fútbol con Rafa, dios mio." (Soccer with Rafa, my God)

He was genuinely spiralling. "Papito, I hate to break it to you but we're supposed to get old." You say to him but it (obviously) doesn't help.

"Lo sé, mi amor, pero, they still have to make it to middle school and high school, I gotta see them through college."

"Who says you won't? Mi marido, (my husband) we will be there for all of their events, for all the big changes. We will still be there when they all leave the nest to create their own, and when they come back to visit." You reassure. "I'll still be next to you in a rocking chair. We are not going anywhere, anytime soon. Entiendes? No hay prisa." (Understand? No rush)

He nods, still pouting. You lean over and plant a loving kiss on his lips. "If you ask me you will make a sexy Abuelo. Glasses and all."

"En serio?" A little bit of confidence coming back to him.

"Sí, papi chulo." You purr pulling him in for another kiss. "You know we have a lot of time before we got to get the kids." He grumbles his lips travelling down your neck. "Let's go before you get us in trouble in this parking lot."

He shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

You laugh. "I know, I don't want to relive it."

-- --

Days passed and Oscar finally got the call to pick up his lenses and choose the frames, you offered to go with him but he said he wanted to surprise you. You'd been waiting all day excited to see what would walk through the door.

You sighed flipping through the selections on Prime, the house was quiet with the kids either distracted or sleeping and you were bored-- until you heard the car door slam shut and his keys jingle right outside the door. The door swings open but he doesn't enter, not yet. He calls out for you and when you answer all too eagerly he chuckles at your excitement. "You been waitin' on this all day?" He asks.

"Yes, hurry the fuck up." You rush. He appears from behind the door and stands with his arms slightly open. "Cómo me veo?" (How do I look?) He asks. Your eyes widen and your jaw slacks. They were simple black frame glasses, they weren't obnoxiously thick or oddly small, and they were good enough to fit him. You sit up on your knees and lean over the back of the couch. "You look... good. Muy guapo, papito." You slur feeling a heat spread in your lower belly. His eyebrows raise in surprise, he knows that look anywhere.

"Quierida..."

"Oscar... " You had the filthiest line ready for him to hear until a pair of footsteps descended from the steps. "Whoooooa! Elliana, Mira! Papa got glasses!" Rafa announces rushing down the stairs to get a better look and shortly another set of little feet made their way over. The two children were so interested in what was on their father's face and how different he looked. "Can you see better?" Elliana asks and he smiles giving her a sweet kiss on her head. "Sí, mi corazón. Thanks for asking."

Rafa turns to you. "Mama, doesn't Dad's glasses look cool?"

Their eyes were on you but you could feel the taunting nature of your husband's eyes. "Yeah... mhm, he looks... they look-k good." You stammer causing Oscar to smirk.

He had seemingly found an upper hand on you with these glasses and he wasn't afraid to use it over the next week. He had them on even when he didn't need them to see that look on your face— the lust, the adoration— your pupils seem to expand whenever you see him in those spectacles. He just looked fucking hot.

It was the best when he walked around in his grey sweats, alone, with no shirt. Just his tattoos and glasses to complete his look and you ate it up every time. You tug on your bottom lip as you paint the picture in your mind. But why imagine, when you can just go see. The house was quiet, all the kids were sound asleep, you shifted out of bed as carefully as you could to not wake Emilia. Once you are successful you grab the baby monitor and creep downstairs, the television is off and the whole first floor is dark-- the only form of light shines through the windows courtesy of the moon. 

"Why the fuck would you do that!?" 

Ah yes, of course, he was in his habitat. The basement. You sneak your way down to see that the ceiling light is off and he just has the ones around his monitors on, though they are bright enough for her to see where she's going. His back is turned and he's so zoned in that your presence goes unnoticed for quite some time. You cross your arms and dramatically clear your throat to let him know you're here. "Yall give me a minute, wifey is here." You can hear the collective; "Hi wifey!" "Hola señiorita!" "What's good Mrs. Spooky?" 

You smile and greet them right back before he mutes his mic. "What's up?" He spins his chair to give you his full attention. "Emilia's awake?" 

You shake your head. "No, she's still sleeping. Just came to hang out." Your eyes ogle the print in his sweats. He follows your line of sight and chuckles. "You sure?"

"Mhm." You swing your leg over his legs and perch yourself on his lap. "I mention how fucking good you look in these glasses?" You purr leaning in. "They havin' an effect on you, ma. That I can see." He hums ghosting your lips with his. "And that's why you should listen to your esposa (wife)more." 

Your lips finally meet and it's not long before you two are practically nibbling at each other with a mutual desperation to end the sexual tension that's been created over time. "Let me hop off the game-" 

"No, it's okay. They can't see you right?" You smirk gnawing at his jaw. "No, they can't."

You reach between your bodies and slide your hand into his sweats. Oscar reaches up to adjust his glasses and when they begin to fog up he cleans them off and reaches to put them on his desk when you stop him. 

"The glasses stay on, Diaz." 

if you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one🤙🏾

🏷️: @darqchilddaydreamz @educatorsareslutstoo @realhotgurlshit @bigenergy777

#fluff #spooky fanfic #marleywrites #marleysfanfictions #on my block fanfiction #spooky #on my block #spooky x black!reader #husband!oscar #oscar diaz x black!reader

[talaok]

Hey, I have this huge exam next week, it’s the biggest exam of my life so far and I’m stressed af. I consider myself a chill person but I’m feeling beyond anxious all the time and I have never felt this stressed in my life. It’s so hard to take care of myself rn like I don’t feel like eating but I have to because I’m nauseous and then I can’t find anything I’d like to eat and it makes me more anxious IT’S A VICIOUS CYCLE I SWEAR AND APPARENTLY I HAVE TO EAT EVERY FOUR HOURS EVERY DAY BC I’M A HUMAN??

anyway, sorry for oversharing. I was gonna ask if you could write sth with pedro taking care of stressed reader, making sure she eats and is hydrated, filing up her coffee, cuddling with her when she has crying sessions wiping her tears and telling her everything’s gonna be okay and he’s gonna be there for her with every step no matter what. I literally crave comfort right now, and I’d be so grateful if you could write something 🥹

I love how caring and kind you are with asks, thank you so so so much for being here. Love you 💕💕💕💕

pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

a/n: Im so so sorry love, im one hundred percent sure youll do great, but in the meantime, i hope this will make you feel a little bit better, love you💗💗 (this ask did skip the line bc if i posted it two weeks from now it wouldn't have made any sense)

He didn't know how or when, but all of a sudden, all you did was study.

And at first, he didn't really think anything of it, you'd told him about the exam and about how important it was, so he understood, but what he didn't expect, was just how much you'd be studying.

You raised your head only to answer him, and even when you did, it was monosyllabic.

"Have you eaten anything?"

"no"

"did you drink any water today?"

"not really"

And no matter how many times he'd tell you how bad for you that was, the next time he asked, the answers were always the same. And that's exactly why by the second day, he had stopped asking and instead, started doing.

He had conceived a whole plan of attack.

For the days when he, unfortunately, had to go to work, he left two full water bottles and a glass on your desk, and an already cooked lunch in the fridge, so that all you needed to do was heat it up in the microwave.

But on the days when he didn't have to go to work, he took it upon himself to become your personal assistant, and your worst nightmare altogether.

No matter how much you complained, he forced you to take a break at least every two hours, he made sure you were drinking the water he poured into your glass, he made you coffee every time you asked, (always only after having reminded you that you didn't need more coffee but more sleep) and finally, he cooked or ordered all of your favorite foods in the hopes that it would make you feel more like eating (which never seemed to work).

Today, thankfully, he got to stay home, so for the thousand time, he walked into the studio to check in on you.

"hey there" he smiled, watching you half-heartedly wave at him before returning your full attention to your book "I brought you a snack," he said, placing the apple slices on your desk and making a soft laugh flee your mouth.

He had turned into a soccer mom, but god it felt good to hear you laugh again.

He got behind you to start gently massaging what he was sure must have been sore shoulders.

"how's it going?"

"bad" you grumbled, relaxing the tiniest bit at his touch

"I'm sorry" he murmured, leaning down to kiss the crown of your head "you wanna take a break?"

"It's not been two hours yet"

"I know, but I think it would be good for you" he explained "We could take a walk maybe"

You sighed, closing your eyes "I can't"

"sweetheart" he cooed, crouching down to be at your level and turning your chair towards him "you're gonna burn yourself out if you continue like this"

"I know but..." you glanced back at your notes "I can't fail this exam"

"and you're not gonna" he immediately reassured you

He watched something happen behind your eyes, 

"not if I keep taking breaks"

"baby-" he murmured, taking your hand in his and watching as your mouth curved downwards for the quickest moment 

"I just-I'm so anxious," you said, your voice breaking "I-I can't fail- I just can't"

"hey hey hey" he cooed, his eyes looking for yours "Sweetheart, it's ok"

And that was the moment you couldn't hold it anymore, all the stress and fear you'd been bottling up for days started spilling from your eyes.

"n-no it's not, I-I... I don't even know, I just..." you sobbed, and when you looked at him, he swore he heard his heart break " I feel like shit"

"sugar..." he murmured, wasting no time wrapping his arms around you "I'm so sorry baby," he spoke gently to your ear as his hands stroked your hair and back 

You hid your face in his chest as you cried all you had to cry.

"it's all gonna be alright sweetheart, I promise"

But at that, for some reason, you only started to cry harder.

"ok this is it, hold onto me"

And you had just the time to frown, before he had picked you up and walked out of the room and into the living room.

"w-what are you doing?"

"forcing you to take a break"

"I could have walked" A small smile appeared on your lips, and with it, a small wave of relief washed over Pedro's body.

"You've done enough today" he explained, sitting down on the couch with you, and in less than a moment, your whole body had clung to his.

Your left leg was draped over his, and your head was on his chest, as he held you close with both his arms.

"y/n, you're not gonna fail" he started gently "You're the smartest person I've ever met"

"That's not true" you muttered, your words muffled by his body

"yes it is" he insisted "And baby I promise you, that everything is gonna be alright" he swore, slowly running a hand through your hair "and that no matter what, I'm gonna be here for you, ok?"

It took a moment for you to respond, but after a few beats of silence, a muffled "ok" made its way to Pedro's ears.

"yeah?" he asked, again, encouraging you to meet his gaze.

"yeah" you sniffled, as you finally looked up

"Feeling better?"

"yes" you nodded "Thank you"

He tightened his hug, as he bent down, to ghost your mouth "I love you baby" he kissed you "Whatever you need, I'm always gonna be here for you"

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x gn reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #fluff #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fanfic #the last of us #narcos #pedro pascal fandom

[sinsandsweetness]

i have stepdad!rick brainrot rn, i’d love one where he punishes the reader for being out past curfew, rick sitting by the door watching another boy drop her off

i’m so excited to see where you go with this omg <33

cw- stepdad!rick, dub con? kinda toxic tbh but… it’s fictional so… all for funsies <3 oh and um… not proofread (is it ever anymore?)

The porch light is on and you know you’re screwed. Walking up the creaky steps to the front door and gently turning the handle. Your stepdads figure, standing at the counter sorting some papers. He glances over at the sound of the door latching behind you.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” His gaze goes back to the stack of papers he’s sorting.

You place your bag on the stool next to him and go for the fridge. Grabbing a glass of water and taking a sip before answering.

“We lost track of time, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s 1 in the morning. Curfew is 11.”

“I’m an adult. I don’t have a curfew that’s ridiculous.” You almost laugh.

“You live under my roof don’t you?”

He’s fully focused on you now. Standing there. No papers in hand.

You want to scowl back. But you’re already in trouble. And being a brat won’t help your situation. Not when Rick is already coming in at you. Backing you into the corner cabinet. Your ass hitting the cool marble as he approaches. Cornered.

“Answer.” He demands. Annoyed. No. Angry.

“Yes. I do.” You day through a clenched teeth. He’s still in his work clothes. The police uniform that Deanna gave him way back when they first arrived here. When he first met your mom. When he first took notice of you.

“Who were you with?”

“A friend.”

He breaths out what you assume is a laugh. An unimpressed huff of air and the smallest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips.

“A friend, hm. Don’t know many friends that touch eachother like that.”

He must have seen you. Watched the boy drop you off from his spot on his chair under the living room window. Watched you kiss the boy goodbye after he opened the car door for you. No doubt catching the way his hand grabbed your ass when he pulled you in for another.

Though Rick seems exceptionally calm if he had seen.

“I’m sorry.” It’s not sincere. And Rick can hear it too.

“About the boy? Or about being out past curfew. Curfew that’s been set in place for all of Alexandria by the way. Not just you.”

“Since when?” This is news to you.

“Since one of your friends fucked up and got three of our people killed.”

There was an incident. A recent one. Only a few days ago actually. Some pretty heavy drinking was involved. Shitty decisions were made and it cost the community three precious lives. An open gate in this world will do that.

“I didn’t realize. No one told me.” You’re telling the truth. He must sense it because his jaw relaxes slightly.

But he moves in even closer. If that was possible. You feel trapped. A heavy weight pulling you further into the counter space between his hands. Ricks strong arms framing your entrapment.

“You missed the meeting,” he leans in, though it doesn’t feel particularly intimate. More intimidating than anything. “I wondered why that was. Wouldn’t have to do with some… friend would it?”

You shake your head. Your heartbeat is off the walls and you want him to close the gap between you so desperately. You want him to bend his own house rules and make a fucking mess out of you right here on the counter. Right here in the kitchen where your mother could walk in at any moment.

Right where he refuses to touch you out of his own moral agenda. Outside it didn’t matter. But in this house, touching you was rare.

He’s so close it hurts. His nose almost brushing your cheek. The stubble on his jaw scratches your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. Lips so warm against your ear. Brushing the gold metal hanging from your lobe.

“I don’t believe you.”

His voice is quiet. Soft and deep. But It makes you shiver as if he’s just yelled at you.

“I-I…“

“Shhh,” he cuts you off. He’s smirking against your cheek. Though nothing about his demeanour is funny. You’re in trouble. That’s all you know.

“You broke the rules. And you lied to me-“

“I’m sorry-“

“Sweetheart, if you interrupt me one more time, your ass is gonna be sore for a week.”

You gulp. Fuck. Ok.

“You’re not getting away with just a slap on the wrist this time. Not tonight, baby.”

He kisses your lips. Gentle and warm. And you’re more than eager to kiss him back. To make it up to him. Anything. Everything. All for him.

It’s not like the boy from outside means anything. He’s nothing compared to the man you live with. The one that sleeps down the hall from you every night. Tempting you with just the smell of his skin and the blue in his eyes.

Your arms wrap around his neck to pull him in close.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper against his mouth between kisses. Muffled and faded into the moans that can’t seem to stay put.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it this time, sweetheart.”

You tug on his hair. Hoping he’ll just let you give him your body as a form of repentance. But it won’t be enough. He needs to punish you himself. To show you some real discipline.

“What are you gonna do?” You ask finally, pulling away for a moment. Just for show really. Giving your most innocent doe eyed act in hopes of even a smidge of pity from the officer.

He doesn’t buy it for a second.

He smiles and your heart skips a beat. You know by the look on his face that you’re in for a night. A week. Maybe longer.

You realize quickly that it isn’t a matter of what he was going to do to you. It was a matter of what he would refuse to do to you. No matter how hard you begged.

And judging by the arousal already seeping through your panties, he’d have you begging on your knees in no time.

—

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee @virtualreader @lust4lovee @fanngirl19 @movidita @cavillsgirl105 @dylanisstilladumbass @dixonslvr @aangelbabysworld @raininhell @gvf23 @iamacowboi @dqllgarden

(lmk if I missed you or if you no longer want to be tagged)

#Rick x reader #stepdad!rick x reader #Rick grimes x reader #Rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #Rick x you #rick x y/n #rick x fem!reader #twd smut #rick grimes smut #stepdad!rick #Rick daydream

[abyssruler]

DOTTORE REQUEST TIME!!!!!!

i may be projecting a bit here but what abt….. a reader who is ill but has an intense phobia of anything medical related, sort of like a hurt/comfort situation? i am physically licking your blog rn. 🕺

an apple a day

dottore x gn!reader

a sick person with intense fear of anything medical related and a doctor with a bit too much homicidal tendencies are locked in a room together. it goes about as well as you would expect — which is to say, not at all. exceptions can be made, however, such as when the sick person is the homicidal doctor’s significant other.

fluff(?), soft dottore, mentioned death and unethical methods (among other stuff) but this is a dottore fic it’s practically a staple

anon, i’m sorry, i know you said hurt/comfort but i am physically unable to write dottore in any genre other than crack, comedy, dark, or spicy stuff. i did try my best tho!

He doesn’t like it when you rebel against him, even less when you get sick. It’s hard to decipher the expression he has on at the moment, but you’ll settle for exasperated.

“I don’t want it!” you yell, cowering in the corner of your bed and raising the blanket up to your mouth.

Dottore stands beside your bed with a pill and a glass of water in both hands. He’s been at it for hours, trying to convince you to drink the medicine he personally made to suit your tastes after you said you didn’t like how bitter medicine always tasted.

“It’s either this or an injection. My patience is running thin, pet.” His voice held the promise of being true to his words. No matter how much it should make you see sense, all you could think about was how that pill would get stuck in your throat and then you’d be subjected to the awful and bitter aftertaste of it, even though he already said it shouldn’t taste that bad.

A shiver runs through you, feeling cold even with two layers of blankets settled on top of you. Your head feels like it’s about to explode, your nose stuffed and throat dry. You know you should just suck it up and drink the pill, but even the thought of doing so makes anxiety creep to your chest. It’s irrational and stupid, Dottore said as much, and he’s right, but as much as you want to be able to just get on with it so you can finally get some much needed sleep, you just can’t. You physically can’t. It feels like your insides are going to twist itself every time you imagine going through with it.

“Or would you prefer one of my segments do this in my place?” He asks, threatens, more like. He knows how rough his younger selves are compared to him, knows that you realize exactly what having them here in his stead would mean. The younger ones would give you a warning just to be nice, a sentiment they don’t offer anyone else, before pinning you down the bed and plunging a needle through your skin to get it over with. Perhaps the older ones would be more gentle with you considering how you feel about it all, but they’re still far less patient than Dottore himself.

You groan in displeasure, feeling stubborn tears well in your eyes at how unfair he’s being. Throwing your blanket over your head, you close your eyes and try and blink the tears away, sniffling as your nose became more runny than it did before. Hiding yourself under the blankets isn’t going to solve anything — it certainly won’t instantly heal your sickness — but it does show how displeased you are with him.

Dottore hums at your behavior. You’re lucky he treasures you as much as he does, else you would have ended up as extra parts in a machine. Anyone else who dared to treat him like this would have met a slow, painful death, and that’s only if he decides they should be granted the luxury of it.

The side of your bed dips with the weight of another person. “What will I have to do to get you to drink your medicine, hm?”

You peek your head from beneath the covers, finding him staring at you, the impatience gone from his eyes. You purse your lips, “I don’t want the pill.”

“And what it is that you want?”

You startle at the question. Thinking for a moment, you recall a memory from your childhood, back in the days when all they had you drink for medicine was—

“Syrup,” you say, blinking up at him almost hopefully. “Something easy to swallow and doesn’t taste bad.”

He reaches a hand to idly twirl a strand of your hair in his finger. “Any other requests?”

“Um, raspberry flavored maybe?”

“Shall I add any sedatives?”

You glare, narrowing your eyes at him in warning. “The last time you did that, I was delirious for a week.”

He grins, showcasing rows of sharp teeth and sounding utterly unapologetic as he says, “Apologies.”

“I mean it. Don’t add anything suspicious to it, okay?” You grab his hand, squeezing it threateningly despite the state you’re in. He gazes down at you with amusement.

“Of course, whatever my pet wants.”

“And stop calling me your pet, people will think it’s some weird kink.”

Dottore’s lips twist, an almost teasing lilt to it — or as teasing as he can be. “Isn’t it, though?”

“I’m gonna blow my nose on you.”

He laughs.

#this is based on my experience as a kid when the nurses had to hold me down to the bed and pinch my nose to get me to drink my medicine #a ​very nice traumatizing memory i look back on with fondness #is dottore ooc here? probably. but you know what they say. love changes a person #<- me trying to justify writing a character ooc #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #gn reader

[viktheviking1]

"At any rate, I’ve got some more investigating to do. I will take out my trusty looking glass and figure out who sent me this.”

“Don’t you mean magnifying glass? A looking glass is a mirror. You’re the one who taught me that.” Via chuckled.

“Yes, well, it makes much more sense for it to be about a magnifying glass, doesn’t it? Something you use to look through?” He laughed back, “Alright, I’ll leave you to whatever it was you were doing . . . online . . . It’s not p*rn is it?”

“DAD!!! NO!!!” She shouted in disbelief.

“Alright, alright! I’m sorry for asking. But just so you know I strongly recommend-” He started.

“UGH! Dad. No. Get out.” She said the magical boundary words that he would always respect.

“Yes, of course. Love you, sweetie!” He called back as he left the room.

Read more of The Pompous and the Prick here:

#octavia helluva #helluva octavia #octavia helluva boss #helluva boss octavia #octavia goetia #helluvaboss #stolas #stolas helluva boss #helluvaboss stolas #stolas goetia #stolitz #helluva stolas #helluva boss stolas #helluva fanfic #helluva fanfiction #helluba boss #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva boss fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #wattpad fanfiction #fanfic wattpad #quotev fanfic #fanfiction.net #quotev #ao3 link #viktheviking #vikthevikingauthor #the pompous and the prick #pompous and the prick

[just-a-tiny-goldfish]

I need more petty drama in fanfiction okay?

I wanna read about how you and deku have a freaking argument that ends in you being like “FINE” and walking out that door and he’s equally pissed off so (even though he’s in his own freaking house💀) he walks right out that door after you too and does his little jumpy jump into the freaking sky messing up your freaking hair 🤬 making you even more pissed off than you already where(and he def did that on purpose too)- after walking around a while you’ve calmed down but your petty af so there’s no way your gunna go back to dekus place no way 🙄 who cares that his home is way more lavish then yours! f him 👊🏽 So once you’ve finally settled yourself in for the night in your OWN home-KNOCK KNOCK who’s that at your balcony ( cause god forbid he knows how a door works) it’s freaking Deku😤 like bro we don’t wanna see you!!! So what we do? Look him straight in the eyes and close them curtains-can’t see him cant see the problem😌 problem solved right? Except when you get up in the morning to go open up them curtains who’s there? Deku. Man did not leave at all after you shut them curtains and now he’s leaning against those glass doors drool all over them dead asleep 💀 and okay-okay it’s not been a horribly cold night but you can see the morning dew in his hair making his curls tighten up just a little and maybe a few bruises from a villain fight he had the day before and he deff looks like he needs a shower and no way his neck is okay sleeping at that angl-OkAY! Okay, you feel guilty. BUT you got pride so there’s no way you’re gunna act TOO guilty so you open up that sliding door and he just flops in and the first thing out if you mouth is “Take a shower you stink”- LOOK I just know no matter the argument he Will probs try to apologize completely for both of you so at some point in his blubbering you’re gunna have to be like “ yeah I fucked up too…sorry🙄🫥” and he’s like “🥺 yeah I know 🙄🫶🏽” shut up b

I want bakugou to snap at you meaner then he intended and haha no sir you can’t snap at ME like that but you’re the ‘bigger’ person here so you understand and are going to give him a chance to make up 👏🏽 except, this is bakugou. And the reason he probs snapped at you was because he was already riled up so you being the ‘bigger’ person rn is not working-you’re there like “where’s my apology” arms crossed and all that good shit, and he’s like I said what I said 👹 and fine he wants to play petty you can also play petty. Your silent treatment begins. You turn around and walk right out of that room- and you know what? I dont think he would ‘care’( he deff would he’s in his feels). I think y’all’s argument could actually go on for tops 3 days (y’all can hold out 😮‍💨) but I think throughout this silent treatment your doing he’s not really acting like your doing it? Make sense? Like he will talk at you and stuff (honestly aggravating you more- just fueling the fire) but he’s not saying very sweet things cause he’s trying to get a reaction I think eventually he’s gunna say something a litte too mean and really hurt your feelings ( he just wants a reaction he dosnt mean it 🥺) and maybe you start to tear up and ‘oh no’ shit. Cause he was expecting you to snap at him not cry and now he feels like shit. And your like fuck this and turn to walk out and just-“Sorry” and there It is. He’s finally apologizing but at what cost? 👏🏽🙄 at that point your upset not angry you just kinda let the tears keep falling cause, c’mon? It’s been a few stressful days. (This literally could have been fixed in less then 30 min smh) and your just sobbing at that point and he’s coming up behind you hugging you and just apologizing over and over and being all like ‘I didn’t mean it’ cause Jesus did he fuck up. And your all like ‘you were so mean 🥺😞’ and yeah his hearts breaking, cause, yes, he can be mean and he knows this, let’s just say he’s deff not gunna be forgetting this anytime soon you might have accepted his apology but that didn’t make him feel any less guilty. He probs thought you were going to leave him for good😬

#I COULD GO ON FOR DEKU I HAD TO PUT A STOP SOMWHERE #I wanna do one for todo too I think he would b a easily jelly bf #bakugou hits me in the soft spot sometimes #deku x reader #izuku x reader #bakugou x reader

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Okay bestie hear me out ….. I’m literally a genius btw okay so I been thinking and like hear me out (this is a long one I’m so sorry I’m in dumb horny himbo mode rn)

Steve rogers landed a brand deal with Coke with special edition red white and blue cans with a picture of him on the front each label with 4 or 5 different versions of the same label just him in different poses. After the events of endgame when getting his affairs in order so he can properly retire the title of captain America and give it to Sam , his brand deal is something that needs to be taken care of. New contracts are signed and old ones are reviewed and with little difficulty he’s able to prematurely end his contract. The problem is there’s a warehouse filled with Steve’s captain America branded coke products. And as efforts not to waste any when liquidating Steve gets sent a pretty large portion of the overstock, As in a giant pallet shows up and his and Bucky’s front door each month for like 6 months filled with glass bottles, plastic bottles , cans , etc.. The problem is as a result of not having sweets for a pretty damn long time Bucky is addicted to sugar so when Steve comes home from one of his last few trips to tie up loose ends making his retirement official. And sees Bucky in their bedroom through the crack of the door soda cans flooding both nightstands and in the center of the bed is Bucky swollen mumbling to himself he’s gonna pop while still drinking more soda pitching a tent while doing so and …. Anyways I’m sure you could probably take that and run with it and write much better than I could but I’m just a whore for soda bloated Bucky and Steve being sensitive to words like pop, burst , explode (obv not in a literal sense just more as vocal additives)

I CAN HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR.

JESUS CHRIST.

This. I love this. This hits so many spots. Just, yes.

It starts basically as soon as Bucky is back in the future and is at least a little bit of himself - it being the incessant munching on candy. Bucky had a sweet tooth back in the day, too, but of all the things HYDRA did to him, they also must’ve done something to mess with his taste buds because his sweet tooth is unsatiable now. He preferred sweets before, but now he’s obsessed with sweets. Candy. Ice cream. Soda pop. Pastries. Even sweet dishes of real, not fake snacks or desserts, like orange chicken or teriyaki flavored… anything, really.

If it’s sweet, he’ll eat it.

It’s a conversation Steve and Bucky have had too many times where Steve watches Bucky snack on sugar after dinner before bed until his own stomach is turning; he doesn’t understand how Bucky can deal with that much sweetness-

"You're gonna rot your teeth, Buck," Steve tells him.

The light of the TV flickers over Bucky’s (admittedly softer, softer than he was in Romania) frame. He’s clothed in his pajamas, nice and relaxed. "Nn, 'm not!" Bucky says around a mouthful of sticky toffy, "'m'uh supersoldier-" he mumbles as if Steve could forget "-my teeth can't rot!"

“I don’t know… you might be pushing it, Buck,” Steve says, giving him shit because it’s their nature. Not because he really means it. He doesn’t actually want Bucky to stop eating sweets. Bucky deserves to have whatever the hell he wants. Steve is more than weak for his boyfriend. Still. It’s a lot.

And still… he might rot his teeth. You never know. Stranger things have happened in their lives.

Bucky just shrugs and moves his metal arm from where it was laying across his soft middle to pick at the toffy now stuck between his teeth.

Steve sighs, pretending to be put out.

Warning for stucky belly kink, obviously. Also, including bloating, dirty talk about popping/bursting without it actually happening, etc.

That’s as far as that conversation ever gets with Steve teasing Bucky for his sugar addiction, though. Nothing much comes of it until… the closer Steve gets to really, actually being retired the more and more Bucky is having sweets (and the softer he’s getting (which Steve doesn’t mind, not at all)). Now it’s the same amount of candy plus more of the fucking soda that Steve wishes he never let Tony talk him into. The money goes to good causes, Steve’s seen the contracts with his own eyes, but it never gets easier to see himself in full uniform across the side of a Coke can. A propaganda pawn. Again. At least it’s for a good cause this time. Charity money.

Although, as he moves over toward total retirement, Coke is trying to get rid of the outdated cans. Steve is sure customers wouldn’t mind having the “old” Cap on their bottles for a little longer, but still, he’ll take it. Whatever he can do to help the world welcome Sam. It’s a good thing. He isn’t Cap anymore. Sam is. And you know what…

Steve should convince Sam to do it.

That’d be funny.

Steve shakes his head, pulling himself out of the idea of pranking Sam to spot the latest pallet of soda they’ve been delivered out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t turn to look at it. He wants to go inside. He does not want to inspect the pallet to see how much soda pop they have left still. More than they’ll ever drink. Correction. Way more than Steve will ever drink because Bucky is a whole different beast. Bucky’s sweet tooth is a whole different beast.

Steve walks through the front door without looking back.

“Buck?” Steve calls into their seemingly empty home. It’s early evening. Bucky surely hasn’t gone to bed yet. Could he have? Steve walks farther into their dim house, through the extry way, and into the living room. He stops in his tracks.

Huh.

There’s a good amount of those stupid Captain America Coke cans and bottles littering the coffee table. And by a good amount, Steve means there’s enough of them to cover the whole surface. The whole coffee table. Some of them are standing upright in neat rows and others have clearly fallen over, causing chaos in the same way dominos do. The coffee table is a sea of soda containers. Plus, there are even more bottles and cans lying empty and abandoned on the floor. And there are even more bottles and cans on the couch. Some of the bottles are glass and some are plastic; some are individual bottles and a few are 2-liter sharing-sized bottles. There are aluminum cans everywhere, too.

All of the containers are empty. Together, they would have - when full - held more than enough pop for anyone, no matter the side of the person’s sweet tooth.

Steve raises an eyebrow. It’s a lot.

He steps forward a little and ends up kicking a can. It crashes into more cans and bottles a few inches away.

Jesus.

It’s. a. lot. of. soda.

The amount of which only cumulatively grows as Steve follows the trail of glass bottles and plastic bottles and aluminum cans. They lead out from the living room toward the bedroom like a strange, gluttonous trail of rose petals.

With every new can or bottle or whatever fucking container, Steve’s heart races faster in his chest, and his imagination does another and another backflip. What is going to be waiting for him at the end of this trail? He almost can’t imagine it. There’s too much to imagine. Too much soda.

Before Steve even walks through the crack between the bedroom door and the doorframe, he knows Bucky is inside. He doesn’t see him - he hears him. From within the bedroom, Bucky releases a loud, deep burp that ends in a moan. The moan is so pleased and satisfied sounding with just the hint of too-much, too-good agony that Steve feels himself chub up in his pants. He knows that sound. He’s heard it plenty; he’s caused it plenty. Heat rises to his cheeks.

Before he slips through the crack in the door, Steve pauses to really imagine what Bucky will look like. Looking at the discarded bottles and cans all around his feet… it feels like there’s enough soda gone missing to fill a bathtub or more. Maybe even a bathtub and a few kiddie pools. Steve knows Bucky’s body well. Soft and plush. His fingers twitch just thinking about touching his padded frame. Luscious with sweet fat. The serum has done its best to keep him from getting stretch marks, but a few have slipped through… on his chubby belly and hips. The image of what Bucky’s body might look like after having so much soda poured into it… it’s too much for Steve. Heat hits him over the back of the head. What is waiting for him? What does he look like? How many more empty bottles are littering their bedroom?

Fuck.

Steve’s dick twitches.

How many more full bottles are in their bedroom?

Steve trembles in place when the sounds of Bucky’s gulping finally filters back into his ears. Getting past the thundering arousal in his head.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Uurp. Ah!

The sound of his chugging and ending belch and satisfied gasp assaults Steve. Jesus.

It gets better, though.

Impossibly, it gets better.

Steve’s still standing outside their bedroom when Bucky must finish his latest bottle, tossing it aside only for it to knock into other bottles and cans, tumbling against each other with that all too recognizable sound of empty plastic and aluminum colliding.

Steve can’t stand it.

He barges into the room as fast as he can.

And there he is.

There he is.

Bucky is lying back in a careless, completely indulgent fashion. He’s reclined against a pile of pillows, with pure pleasure written across his face - his expression is dopey enough that it looks like he’s been chugging beers rather than sodas. Like he’s managed to get himself drunk. He probably is drunk, Steve realizes, all that sugar making him go out of his mind. Bucky doesn’t react to Steve at first. He just keeps lying there. His eyes are so heavily lidded that they are barely, barely open at all. He’s not paying enough attention to see what’s in front of him. All he cares about is touching himself and grabbing another. His flesh and blood hand is rubbing his impossibly round gut. It sticks out in front of him like a cartoon. It doesn’t look real. It’s so round. It’s a fucking done. The few stretch marks on his sides are stretched taut and they look angry with how red they are. He looks like he might pop if he isn’t careful - Steve whimpers at his own thought. Bucky doesn’t pay him any mind. He keeps rubbing himself, letting out all these sounds. Sighs. Moans. More burps. And over it all, those sounds of pleasure, Steve swears he can hear the sound of all that pop fizzing inside him from the other side of the room. All that carbonation must be so bubbly and sloshy inside him - if he’s even got any of it left inside of him, when Bucky burps again Steve considers how long he’s been at this and how much he’s clearly making room for more… it’s probably all gone flat in there. That huge gut. How else would he have fit so much inside him?

Steve shivers.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s other hand is not rubbing his gut (even though it looks like he could use another hand), his metal hand is blindly feeling around for more.

More soda.

He finds more. This bottle is a 2-liter. He cracks it open and starts chugging like it’s nothing, like he’s still thirsty, and Steve moans in tandem with him. Bucky’s moan is muffled by the flow of soda going down his throat. So it’s mostly Steve’s sound in the quiet room. His moan gets Bucky’s attention. He can tell from the way he blossoms - he knows he’s being watched now and he’s putting on a fucking show. Always a slut for showing off. He doesn’t just keep rubbing his swelling gut, he caresses it now. Plus, he squirms a little, trying to arch his back and spread his legs, but it doesn’t do anything for him - his belly is so heavy that his back is already as arched as it can be, pulled forward by the weight. And his legs can’t get any farther apart, they were already making all the room possible for his swollen gut. His body is already doing everything it can to make sure Bucky can get more inside him.

More. More. More.

Steve is pulled like a magnet to Bucky. He makes it through the litter around their bed and crawls up onto the mattress. Before he’s even touching Bucky, he can feel the heat coming off of him. His poor skin is so red. He’s so sweaty. He’s so full. He’s trembling and clearly can’t stop it. It’s pushed his limits. He’s really fucking pushed his limits. And he’s still pushing. Still gulping. Still swelling. Fucking Christ. It makes Steve so hard. The gluttony. The need he has to get everything he can. Pure greed.

It’s impossibly fucking hot.

And it just gets hotter when Bucky is done.

His moan is almost a wail when he finally, finally is done, and he drops the bottle. He must be so full. He looks so full. Overfull. His lips are wet with drool and some overflowed pop, dripping down his fat chin. His pink, pink tongue laps at the mess, trying to clean himself up a little as he pants heavily. It doesn’t work. He’s still a mess. He can’t catch his breath. Steve can hear it. He can hear the way his body is fighting to keep all of that sweet, sugary liquid inside him, sloshing and bubbling and gurgling, and he can hear how much Bucky’s lung capacity has been reduced. His gut is taking up all the space in his body and stretching his body even bigger. So. full.

“‘M gonna-” Bucky heaves in a breath between his whimpered words, sweating “-pop.”

Steve’s hands shake violently where they hover over the bright red, hot skin of his globe-shaped gut. Steve wants to touch him more than anything. But he can’t. He can’t. Bucky is too much.

Steve whimpers, too.

“I…” Bucky struggles, rocking just a little bit from side to side, his heavy, full body wobbling. God. He looks massive. Like he’s trying to turn himself into a sphere and has gotten impressively close. “I really…” he whines, “ohhh, I really think ‘m gonna burst,” Bucky forces out, barely able to breathe, let alone talk. He’s so full. He moans. “F-full. Shit. I’m s’full.”

“Weren’t you full like a fucking hour ago?” Steve’s mouth is dry, staring at him. Vibrating in place.

He can’t take this.

He lays a hand on that gut.

Then, immediately follows the first with his second hand.

It-

It feels like heaven.

Steve can feel Bucky’s poor, poor, stretched abs trying to keep his body together. Twitching. He can feel the soda pop too - fizzing inside him. He’s feverish and glistening with sweat.

He’s overworked.

“Oh, oh, ohh,” Bucky moans with every exhale. His gut sloshes with heavy breaths. Steve can hear and feel it. Bucky’s eyes have rolled to the back of his head. His hands are over the top of Steve’s now, making sure his hands stay pressed to his gut. He can hardly keep himself together, so he needs Steve’s help. “Steeeve,” he whines.

“What-what do you want me to do? I-” Steve pauses, dizzy, “I didn’t inflate you with soda.” Just at the word ‘soda’ Bucky lets go of an agonized but hungry moan. Steve’s dick twitches. “You did, Buck,” Steve insists, pressing just a tiny bit on Bucky’s belly, impossibly tight but still liquid, sloshing around in him.

“Uunnngh,” Bucky makes a needy sound, out of breath.

“You, God, you got yourself so fucking full-”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky moans.

“-That you’re about to…” he can’t say it. There’s something about it. Something about how greedy Bucky has to be to drink so much that he thinks it’s about to be over for him, that Steve can’t give voice to. It turns him on too much to say. God, he’s so hard. He can't think. There are so many other things he can say… swollen. Full. Bloated. Fat. Heavy. Round. Big. Fucking insanely massive… but he can’t. Not that.

It’s a good thing Bucky has no such reservations.

“‘M gonna pop,” he cries out, “I’m, ‘m gonna burst, Stevie. I don’t- I don’t, oh, God, I dunno how I got it all in me. I just-” he whines, “I was just so thirsty. And it tastes so good. I can’t help myself around sugaaar! You shouldn’t’ve left me alone with it! What am I supposed to do but drink it!? Now ‘m gonna explode, oh, God, ohh, fuck ‘m gonna explode... s’ all your fault!”

Steve-

There’s no elegant way to say it.

Steve just comes in his pants. Entirely untouched.

Bucky can’t just say shit like that. That he’s gonna burst. He’s gonna pop. He’s gonna explode. He can’t control himself - he’s too gluttonous, too greedy - and now he’s gotten too big. Too big to handle. Too swollen. Unable to take the pressure inside. Unable to be so full.

So. full.

It’s too much for Steve, he shivers and shakes through his orgasm, whimpering, “you’re so big, s’ tight, gonna fuckin’ explode. You’re so big. You’re gonna pop. Burst. Gonna-” until he’s done.

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #bloating #soda bloat #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #chubby bucky

[luvring]

OK SO GURL !

Not really theorie but mainly ideas i got here and here only based with my love for a good old mercenary ( aka protector ) x alchemist ( aka 0 chance of survival alone )

So my brain is thinking and thinking and like that one flower scene about how they are pretty although they don’t last long, but at least they leave quite an impression. What if this could be used for his dynamic with mc ? As like, him trying to give a good impression for mc to have a pleasant time, making them able to live normaly for a moment and enjoy life but deep down that just a facade. He tries to but something is here and because it can’t be real he just tries to at least put a font for them because he wants mc to enjoy life ?

That way too much of analysis for a simple interaction about flower but really the «  you seemed like you need some luck » what luck ma boi ? What do you have in mind ?

So hear me out hear me out, Leander who have a little thing for mc and knowing their situation, wants to help them because sure people deserve nice to get better but especially THEM. Like, the softness and desperation with wich they hold his hand when he offered them and like how the « make happy » instinct kicked in. Or like even at the bar when at first it’s letting mc touch him to feel better but in a way he enjoy their touch too, he too appreciate the confort (sorry but leaning into their palm ??? I know alcohol was here but still !)

Anywhoozie know that like… if you ask i will doodle him !

OHH I get it. like it relates to how he can't cure u but he can give u a sense of normalcy in it all...love the line "if you need a reprieve from what haunts you, come find me." I SEE THE VISION!!! + tangent but the flower scene's important for sure i agree. lilies meaning purity, innocence, rebirth... does the disappearance mean those things are fleeting or are they more meant to relate to who he is in some way yknow.

i think/hope he can help us but also my rose tinted glasses and i don't care if he can't bro i'm twirling my hair anyways 😂😘🫶 there might b smth w mc's physical reaction to touching him maybe...like ofc it has to do w being Touchstarved. but i guess i found the wording of their head feeling like it's stuffed w cotton or how hard their heart was pounding after touching his face interesting. filled w cotton isnt rlly the description id go for. the imagery + connotation is... anyways

AND OMGGG LEANDER DOODLE...u could draw like..mc/an oc giving Him a flower... or erm. not sure. maybe him w a cute headband. u know the fuzzy ones u wear to wash ur face and keep hair out of the way. sorry thats really specific im wearing one rn

#🧾nia.answers #<3 dreamtydraw #what i said is most likely a Stretch btw. #but theres most definitely a catch about him so. might as well look at what i can #or maybe hes just perfect. my babygirl 🫶 #also when he points out his gold pin + mcs knuckles match #RLLY SUCH A SMALL THING but then again. a small thing #why mention it. yknow #or again. hes perfect and wanted to lighten the mood 🙂😘🫶

[twicearoundthebend]

okay. I have a confession to make. I tried to read lord of the rings like several times. got halfway through the first book, it’s good it’s just dense and I keep stopping to attempt to paint the scenery and getting distracted and discouraged. please please no spoilers but give me motivation to try read it again!

I’m rereading rn and totally get the struggle with how dense it is, there’s a lot of information! For me, I just rewatched the movies which I think helps because I have an idea of where the stories going/who more of the people are. Every couple chapters I give my brain a break and read something that takes less effort (rn it’s Percy Jackson, which I’ve read like 6 times). Giving your brain time to process helps!

I also follow the wonderful artist @frodo-with-glasses who illustrates random scenes from lotr. Seeing art from the chapter I’m on has made me want to keep reading!

I would absolutely recommend the books. The dialogue is delightful, and the world that’s created feels real. As you read, more history is given and all the pieces that were super confusing start to make sense. The heart of the book is that ordinary people can do extraordinary things- that no matter who you are, you are significant. And that’s really fucking comforting. The importance of friendship, of compassion, of listening, the connections between individuals! The characters drive the narrative, and the more you learn about them the more you’ll want to read. I think once you get through the first book (the first half of fellowship) the story picks up a little as there’s more characters to follow. It is slow paced, and information isn’t given all at once, but that’s the way it is for the characters as well. The hobbits don’t know where they’re going, what the history of their quest is, and you learn alongside them. You’re put into the world with these characters, and you get to go on the journey with them.

Sorry for the super long answer, but I hope I helped! Also, if you want someone to discuss chapters with or answer any questions about parts that are dense/confusing, I’m always happy to talk about these books!!

#lotr #faithfromanewperspective #ask and you shall receive

[tonberry-yoda]

Hey there! :DD

I saw your requests are open and I was wondering if I could get an (romantic or platonic, it’s up to you) Overwatch Matchup? Headcanons, or a small drabble if you prefer (cooking or shopping together?)

Sorry, this is gonna be all over the place, but:

I’m a demigirl and gay asf (women iykwim). A bit taller and kinda chubby? My hair is pretty short and I have a tendency to impulsively dye it with wash out colours. I’m also an audhd kid lmao. Born and raised in Austria, so I’m fluent in german as well as english (I know a tiny bit of spanish too!)

I live for cute things!!! It’s round and soft? I need it!But I come of as kinda scary because I dress more punk/alt, which is a shame because I’m touch starved and want a hug real bad. I also have a very strange sense of humor, which I’d need a partner who wouldn’t mind that.

I love vocaloids and goth music and I think that sums up my personality perfectly haha (my favorite musician rn is Shilpa Ray!!!) I listen to music pretty much 24/7.

Ideally, I’d like someone who’s fun to be around, yet still respecting of my boundaries. My love languages are gift-giving, parallel play and physical touch and I’d need a partner who would be excited about randomly getting leaves or just memes from me. I love baking and cooking for people I care about!! I also draw a lot, alongside other creative things like sculpting, photography, cosplay and writing. I tend to stim when really excited and if someone joined me in doing that, it’d actually make me want to marry them or keep them in a glass terrarium to observe their activities. I also just LOVE shopping, even if I don’t end up buying anything.

To sum it up: scary looking chubby girl with a love for cute things and way too many hobbies who makes too many jokes for their own good

I hope that’s alright? Also no pressure to write this at all!!

(Btw I love your writing style!!! <3)

hi there!!! this was perfect!! it was super easy for me to pick a character for you!! and seriously, thanks for asking for an overwatch matchup because i do not do enough overwatch requests lol. alright im rambling, now onto your character!

the character I chose for you is...

MEI!!

like women you say??

LIKE CUTE THINGS YOU SAY???

this is the cutest woman in town!

plus y'all are both a lil chubby making cuddling THE BEST

like cuddles are the absolute best with this girl!

she will 100% help you dye your hair

round and soft you say???

here's your new girlfriend!!

she doesnt mind if you come off as a little scary, if anything, she's obsessed with the dynamic of the both of you

she's super cute and wears just soft outfits and you look all grunge and punk

it's awesome

she likes the music you listen to, but it definitely isn't her go to, so just know that she will be putting on lofi and you will be groaning in the background, waiting for the aux back lmaooo

she LOVES to laugh

she doesnt mind a weirder sense of humor because she definitely has a goofy one

like those really random gen z memes are her shit

send her those at 3am and she will be laughing for hours lmfao

SHE NEEDS PHYSICAL TOUCH AS MUCH AS YOU DO

i mean, she is cold all the time, so warm cuddles are what she needs the most

expect a lot of random hugs from out of nowhere

she loves baking and cooking just as much as you do (that's what your mini fic below is gonna be about tee hee)

please tell her about your hobbies

she loves to see you excited

and please ask about hers

she loves talking to you for hours <3

she thinks it is sweet when you stim, so she will grab your hands and jump in the air with you when you're both excited

definitely not bothered by your adhd at all

she will help you when you need it most

she will 10000% go shopping with you and even end up buying you stuff even when you say she doesnt have to

and you will do the same lmaooo

just know that she loves you with all her heart and couldnt ask for a better girlfriend/partner!! <333

NOW FOR THE MINI FIC TEE HEE

MINI FIC

You giggled and watched Mei as she was fully focused on icing the cake you two had made together. Her tongue was slightly sticking out to help her focus and she had a dot of white icing on her nose.

She pulled back for a second to look the cake over and you needed to help get rid of that icing that was annoying you so much. You kissed her on the nose and licked off the icing making her giggle. "Ew, don't lick me!" She said jokingly, lightly pushing you away.

"You had icing on your nose." You said, taking the piping tool from her to finish up the details on the cake.

"Did I really?" She asked, her face going a bit red.

"Yeah, but it was cute." You stopped icing for a second to give her a kiss on the cheek, making her smile.

"You know, I think this is the best cake we've made yet," she said, putting her hands on her hips proudly. "What do you think, babe?"

"Oh, definitely!" You finished icing the cake, satisfied with your work and stood to admire it for a moment before taking a picture.

"Are we gonna eat the crap outta this thing?" Mei asked, already grabbing a fork.

"Oh hell yeah we are!"

~~~~~

matchup rules --- pinned post

@tonberry-yoda

#i really hope you like it! #mei is such a cutie and it just fit perfectly #writing #fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #<3 #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch 2 x reader #ow #ow2 #ow x reader #ow2 x reader #mei #mei overwatch #mei x reader #mei overwatch x reader

[weirdo09]

u were in the dream i had last night🧍

at first you were adam torres from degrassi but then at some point when we were falling down a hill you became you (ik it doesn’t make sense but dream logic) and yeah we fell in a pond and kicked some kids of the swings and bcz i don’t know what u look like my brain gave u glasses and made u taller than me and yeah u were pretty fun so idk yeah just felt the need to inform u since everyone else was fictional

(sorry for the unreadableness of this i woke up like 2 minutes ago and have probably the flu rn)

😱

#asks

[the-kipsabian]

Crush anon here I went through a stint when I was younger of losing some people back to back tho it was months / a year apart and I’ve lost a couple people a few years apart here recently one I just lost a few weeks back another just a few months ago

Grief is never ever easy but it’s much harder when you don’t experience it for a while and then suddenly you’re hit with it so quickly so much at once

The regrets are very very real and valid and I understand the connection disconnection thing felt that way about my paw he was good to me most of the time but was terrible to my mother and bad mouthed my dead nana his ex wife fairly often and she was my entire universe tbh so made for a very mixed relationship with him

Fond memories of eating out with him or going to the library

But then horrible ones of him bad mouthing my nana and him not being allowed at her funeral and him being horrid to my mom who despite my admittedly terrible relationship I still felt so much anger seeing her treated so wrongly

Point is people are complicated grief will be complicated often the more complicated the relationship with the person before they died the more complication with the grief is what I’ve found

I find myself feeling a mixture of hating not visiting my grandma in the nursing home more vs remembering times she blamed me for things that weren’t my fault or had meltdowns over small things and not necessarily feeling glad I didn’t visit more I will always regret not visiting more but it sorta in a way removes the rose tinted glasses I had as a kid before I realized and was told some of the stuff she was doing to me was wrong

I’m so sorry for such back to back losses I could never begin to imagine your exact feelings everyone grieves and feels differently and being numb is sometimes a way we can feel whether it be because we’re not ready to feel properly or we feel like we can’t because we have to remain strong for anyone else or whether it just happens

It’s okay like I said people are complicated and therefore grief will be as well and all that matters is we find what works for us and we work through it at safely and at our own pace

Sometimes it will be all at once other times it will be much more sporadic and sometimes even if it’s all at once there can still be smaller times or even bigger times we have random breaks and everything

It’s all okay, I hope you’ll be alright and I hope this makes sense and helps you somehow

I often use my own experiences to try to help others so <3

yeah its. its a lot rn. my grandpa passed away on thursday and my grandma last night so thats. yeah

the thing for me is, apart from getting hit with all of this rapid fire after not experiencing loss in years, its just.. i didnt really have a relationship in the recent years with either of them. mostly cause my grandpa wasnt really a great person and my grandma was secluded and didnt really like me so like.. yeah. i have a lot of guilt of not trying to mend any relationships like that and just having the rest of the family to handle them, but ive been living with the regrets and could-have-beens the past few days a lot and. its just a lot. especially since now theres two people like that and two relationships that are no more that i somehow need to try to deal with

idk like i said in the tags its a very complicated thing for me. im trying to do this at my own pace but its just.. odd to me. and i know its normal but i also feel guilty about it. about a lot of things, like said. i'll be fine eventually, probably cause thats just how life is and since these relationships werent that good or close.. but it still hurts. idk man

thank you tho, i do really appreciate you reaching out 💜

#im not gonna talk about this a lot im just. processing tonight #its been a difficult few days to say the least #death // #anonymous #thank you for asking! <3

[badluvkii]

tjings i associate with ateez new album songs bc of my synesthesia

ive only processed the unit songs so far because it takes a while to get a full image

matz : matz was one i saw more witu pattern more than objects / a scene before but i always had a metallic silver of the pattern , then i associated it with broken metal , like if a car got in a crash and left debris and crashed glass and stuff , black tar concrete . i didn’t see a color other than grey , silver , black for a while but i started recently to see specifically seonghwa with blood red and hongjoong in dark purple almost indigo . i usually have a flash of pink in a lot of ateez songs wjen hongjoong sings tho, not every song tho , it’s pretty rare that happens but hongjoong is very hot pink in cyberpunk . the pattern is thick and sharp and metallic silver . could cut u probably if it was a real object . it’s like a demolition site , danger , car chases and like racing . it’s so cool honestly

it’s you : i saw it like the end of the perfume mv , which is good in my opinion bc perfume is my song of the year . it’s purple and pink with a bit of blue . i saw flowers and bright lights . the song is in a dark environment, pretty sure it’s nigjt . it has vibes of when you’re drunk in another country at night at bars that are well decorated with flowers and lights and pretty . cool air , i feel my skin is cool wjen i hear it , good for me because i love that specific temperature due to my skin being sensitive to heat . i can see streetligjts like memories wjen i go out at night after meeting family wjen i travel to both of my home countries to see my family and go out drinking by my own after . happy vibes . i know it’s a seductive song but it gives me good vibes like i’m tipsy and tbh i’m usually horny when i’m tipsy so it makes sense lmao . i have a few good rated 18+ memories i associate , bc i like to party , that i’m not gonna go into bc this is family friendly lnao but not as much as i’ve experienced in my life only a few wholesome 18+ memories bc i don’t particularly see it as THAT sexual . it gives perfume vibes too i can see water too like a late night pool party ?? i don’t see perfume the way the mv depicts it but i LOVE perfume’s mv . this is perfume . the pattern is more pastel than i see the image , thin circular shapes with only sharp bits at the end . almost like vines . i mainly see pastel pink and a little of pastel purple with it

youth : it’s the hardest one i have thougjt about . it reminds me of a highshcool night when you get out of school and go to a field with your best friend and just sit there and have a deep and fun conversation. it’s a sunset (? is that the orange one?) oh well it’s light orange sky fading to yellow and the sun is going down . the grass is green but have a deeper colour like lower saturation . but there is a massive grass area with no trees in front and behind there is a large tree area like a forest . you can see the sky perfectly there’s no things obstructing your vision . i’m familiar with it and it gives me a warm nostalgia. rn i’m listening and it’s cold winter below freezing and it makes me feel warmer . i see it as orange and yellow and i also associate it with seeing sunflowers and smelling freshly cut grass (which i love) . it’s like a slightly later feild picnic with your best friend in the whole world , full with ur fav snacks. the pattern is very hard to see in all honesty but it expands outwards softly like a non-agressive firework and flows as the song goes , it moves with the song , that’s why it’s so hard to see

everything : sadly , i haven’t experienced how this feels because i don’t have the money to do this which sucks hard bc i’m jongho biased . i see it like the romcom movies in an american bar (i’m not american so i’m guessing i’m sorry if it’s inaccurate but i’ve seen stuff like this in movies) where they have the singers (jongho) in suits and playing the pianos and there’s sparkly walls by almost tinsel like things on them and the whole room is dazzling , the singers eyes are sparkling and the sparkles in the champagne are glistening while the soft warm toned ligjts hit it . all of the people inside are rich people in gorgeous black and white dresses with pearls and silks and the men have tailored suits made of rich velvet all sat on tables , mainly two-tables for couples . it’s a romantic night . i see everything like black and white , but a warm tone in it too?? (like bendy and the ink machine color pallete but the beige is more of a warm goldish-tone) . this migjt me bwinf jongho ulted and i love him so much it’s like almost a fanfic lmao but it’s like the feeling of you’re the singer’s lover and you’re watching their performance in adoration . yeah it migjt just be me being jongho biased and the love i feel is how much he means to me but it gives me that emotional feeling . the pattern is like cursive writing and old architecture structures kind of look to it . it’s intricate and detailed , it’s really beautiful

[s-brant]

i… am.. broken. what was THAT oh my god my heart. i wanted to cry like 6 different times while reading what the hell. where do i even start omfg

THAT MAN IS IN LOVE 😭😭😭 my god.. giving her the money after she told her she needed money to pay rent.. why am i crying 😭😭 he’s so sweet i’m not okay. i’m so glad her and alanis were able to talk things through and get their sense of closure. and then my poor baby thinking she left him for good after leaving to talk to alanis like 😭 this chapter killed me. this did it for me i’m so serious. they were making LOVE they weren’t making some porno. “say my name” BOYYYY i’ll say ur name as many times are u want. the gun play was so hot i’m gonna VOMIT

AND THE ENVELOPEKDJDJ he said silly girl 😭 fuck i’ve been waiting for that moment. since the very beginning he cared for her deep down without even realizing it. also when he took his glove off to hold hands w her under the table on her lap to ground her from ripping zayn’s head off. like come ONNNN you killed me. i’m dead. idk who’s typing this rn cuz i’m dead. done. gone. i will need 3-5 business days to recover cuz u actually broke me i cannot do this.

THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO BAd i am so 😭 my babies deserve the world. SPEAKING OF BABIES????? no ik for a fact he’s a softie and is gonna love the shit out of that unborn child and treat her like glass even if he ends up not seeming to not want it.

idk wtf i wrote here but u must know. this chapter might be my fav im sorry i say that every time u post a new chapter but i’m so serious. she’s dead. i am she

you’re such a good writer this is so insane. you’re insane you psycho talented woman

HIIIIII SORRY FOR ALMOST MAKING U CRY SO MANY TIMES!!

oh harry is absolutely in love with her, like no doubt. he’s such a sweetie underneath it all and it’s so nice to be able to show that in him now. i know 🥺 he really thought she was done w him. him giving her the envelope was something i’ve been waiting soooo long to reveal, it felt so great to write it finally!

and 😵‍💫 speaking of babies, i don’t necessarily know if harry is even ready to be a father to a child considering he can’t even emotionally handle telling the woman he loves that he loves her, but we shall have to see about that lmao.

thank you for everything 🥰🥺

#asks #slvt4keepdriving

[mackenzielovee]

letters to you: eight - rafe cameron

summary: one word can't describe the immensity of feelings had with you

warnings: swearing, mentions of anxiety/insecurity

wc: 5k

a/n: hi <3 i'm slightly drunk rn but let me know your thoughts and i hope you enjoy, i love this part for so many reasons and again im sorry for the little cliffhanger. xoxo !

series masterlist

You’re seated on the couch, back in your pajamas, with a full wine glass sitting in front of you when you hear Rafe come in. He closes the door so softly, you wonder if it’s just your mind deceiving you because you’re so desperate for him to return. You’d replayed the scene in your head on a loop since he left, unable to figure out what it means or where it came from.

You take a deep breath when you see him appear in the living room out of the corner of your eye. Taking a page out of his book, you slowly drag your eyes up to look at him. Somehow, he looks like he’s aged ten years since he’s been gone. His eyes are sad, his shoulders drooped, and you can smell how many cigarettes he must have smoked while he was gone. In his right hand, he grasps a bouquet of flowers, but makes no effort to hand them over.

“I messed up before I left, didn’t I?” he asks quietly.

You’re honest when you say, “I don’t know.”

“Y/N, I–”

“Do you think we rushed this a little bit?” you blurt, unable to stop the thought from escaping you.

“What?” his voice is barely audible now.

“I’m just asking if you think we rushed this.”

You shy down on the couch, unable to get away from his intense stare.

“No,” he says, “I like how things are with us.”

“But I upset you,” you finally say, “You were frustrated with me when you left. I don’t know what to do with that.”

“I wasn’t–” Rafe stops himself, running his free hand across his face, “It wasn’t you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just have some shit I’m still working through, and the circumstances kind of brought it out. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I’m sorry, honey.”

You stand up, letting your blanket fall. Just as he always does, Rafe’s not shy about taking you all in. His eyes are careful, as if memorizing every curve, every scar, every mark that makes you, you.

“Well, it’s okay, Rafe,” you say, taking one daring step toward him, “As long as you know you don’t have to work through all that alone.”

He nods, but you can tell he’s hesitant by the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows.

“I know,” he says, his voice low.

“Good.”

He watches you take the few extra steps, and before he can help it, he wraps his left arm around you and pulls you in. His right arm falls to his side, flowers still in his hand but practically forgotten. You mold yourself into his body, hoping to squeeze some sort of reassurance into him.

“It won’t happen again,” he whispers into your hair.

You just nod, and when you pull back, he holds up the flowers. He presents you with a boyish smirk you’ve never seen on him before, a sense of shyness behind it. He’s usually so confident and collected; this side of him seems to be new.

“They’re beautiful,” you smile, “You didn’t have to. Thank you.”

“Yes I did. Should’ve last week, too.”

You grin but roll your eyes, standing up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. He accepts it, then pulls the box of baking soda from his jacket pocket.

“Teach me?” he asks, an expectant smile crossing his face.

“Of course,” you laugh, “Let me take care of the flowers.”

He nods but leans down to silently request one more kiss. You give it to him, then he hands the flowers off to you and lets you step away.

He shrugs off his jacket while you hunt down a vase in the back of one of Rafe’s cabinets, probably old and never used. You fill it and stick the flowers in, just in time to spin around and find Rafe standing exactly five inches from you.

“Jeez,” you call out, free hand rising to your heart as an attempt to calm it.

“Sorry,” he laughs, “Just– just can’t seem to get enough of you being here. In my kitchen, on my couch, on my balcony.”

“In your wallet,” you add, teasing him.

He grins, “I want more pictures of you.”

“Maybe in your next letter,” you joke, knowing you won’t be confident enough to actually follow through on the statement, “It’s your turn to write, by the way.”

“I know,” he replies with a smirk.

He leans in just enough that his nose brushes yours, and that’s when you pull back. You laugh as he groans, throwing his head back.

“It’s time to learn,” you lecture him.

He just nods and follows you over, where you steal a kiss anyway before you get started.

Rafe pays attention for about five minutes before his hands start roaming and his lips attach to your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he can reach. You giggle when he does it, trying not to let him get to you too much but also knowing that he’s so far under your skin, going back to UNC is going to hurt worse than it ever has before.

Once you have the dough perfected, he fishes two spoons out of the drawer and gathers up a bunch of it, handing one off to you. He pulls himself off of you and leans against the counter as he eats, never removing his eyes from you.

As happy as you are and as much as your mind is telling you to just be in the moment, a part of you wants to know absolutely every single piece of him. The good, the bad, and whatever ugly part he seems to be working so hard to hide.

“You told me once that I could talk to you, do you remember that?” you ask, “That nobody would see my letters but you. So, if I needed to vent, you were open to it.”

He nods slowly, halting his eating, “I remember. I meant it.”

“Well, I want to say the same to you, now,” you continue.

“Y/N–”

“You don’t have to tell me. I would never force you to do that. If you want to, though, I’m here.”

Something flashes in his eyes; it’s as if he wants to say a million things all at once. You just wait, allowing him to process what you’ve said and decide how he wants to proceed.

“I’ve made some mistakes,” he says eventually, “But that’s not who I am anymore. I’m better – I’m trying to be better.”

You nod, trying to get the most out of such a cryptic statement. He steps over to the sink and rinses off the remainder of the dough, neither of you really in the mood to eat it anymore. When he turns back to you, you’re rooted in the same spot.

“Nobody’s perfect in high school, Rafe,” you say quietly, “Nobody’s perfect at any point.”

“You’re pretty close,” he says, letting a smirk tease the ends of his lips.

You laugh and shake your head, ignoring the way your entire body seems to run warm at his admission. Now, you’re sure he’s done talking about it. He’s acting playful again; stepping over and wrapping both of his arms around your waist.

“What’d I say yesterday about this emotional shit?” he teases, “I just want to be with you while I can. Let’s not dredge up my past just for the hell of it.”

“I’m sorry,” you say immediately, “I just wanted you to know–”

“I appreciate that, honey, I do. Really. You’re a better person than I know what to do with, to be honest.”

You shake your head slightly, “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Rafe’s expression melts into something entirely different from your words, but he regains himself quickly and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon, let’s get these in the oven.”

Saturday night consists of wine and whiskey, pizza, snickerdoodles, and about a million kisses. Some painfully slow, some so quick and desperate you swear you might die if you ever stop. You’re amazed at the fact that Rafe never tries to make it something more, he never tries to push you or make you uncomfortable. Really, he leans back and lets you choose the pace, taking over only when you relinquish control to him.

After a particularly long makeout session, you collapse on Rafe’s chest and turn your attention to the TV, where almost an entire episode of I Love Lucy has played through. Rafe’s palm is pressed into your back, stroking lightly every so often. Once the episode ends, he starts to squirm under you, and you know immediately what it means.

“Sit outside with me,” he says as you move to sit up.

“Okay,” you agree, picking up your wine glass while Rafe picks up his whiskey.

He slides the glass door open and lets you walk out first, taking a seat at his table. He lights up a cigarette as soon as he closes the patio door, then moves across the balcony to get to his seat. You look out, although there’s not too much to see. A road with a few cars passing by, the water off in the distance.

He clears his throat and draws your eyes away from the view, instead over to him. You watch him pull his cigarette from between his lips, letting them fall into their natural smirk as he looks at you.

“What time do you have to go tomorrow?”

The thought of getting back on that ferry without him makes your heart sink.

“Noon.”

He frowns, “Are you sure you have to go?”

Despite the topic, you smile. He gives you a soft smile when he sees yours, but something in his eyes looks sad. The loneliness is already returning, and for a moment, you swear you’re going to be lonely, too.

“I have class on Monday,” you say quietly, “I have to be there.”

He sits up straight, seemingly forgotten about the cigarette between his fingers.

“Honey, I’m joking. I’d never let you skip class to stay.”

You nod, knowing he has to work anyway, and both of your lives will return to normal. Just as last week, the thought of not knowing when you’ll see him again makes your heart ache. Not to mention the fact that a label hadn’t been put on this – a fact you’re trying not to think too hard on. The fact doesn’t necessarily bother you; you know you’re special to Rafe and you certainly know he’s special to you, but the pressure of figuring out what to tell Emma is weighing on you. As strange as you find her relationship with Ethan, you know that it would be considered more normal than your situation with Rafe.

He chuckles lightly, bringing you out of your trance. Your eyes meet his blue ones, which never leave you as he takes a drag.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Y/N?” he asks, a cocky grin on his face.

“Nothing,” you tell him, ignoring the heat that flows through your body at getting caught.

“Mhm,” he hums, amused, “You have no poker face, you know that?”

You furrow your eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

He laughs and relaxes in his chair, staring at you for another long few seconds before he speaks again.

“You hold every single emotion right on that beautiful face of yours. You’re trying to figure something out, I just don’t know what.”

You tuck your bottom lip in between your teeth and look down at the table, hoping somehow, the answer will be written there. Rafe keeps his gaze locked on you, never faltering or changing for one second.

“I’m trying–” you stop, reassess what you’re going to say, “I’m trying to figure out what I’m supposed to call this.”

You can practically hear him swallow as you finish your sentence, cigarette halting in midair as he takes it in. You don’t have the courage to look up at him, so you rely on what you can see out of the corner of your eye.

“This?” he requests clarification with a slight crack in his voice.

“Yes, this–” you almost whisper, “Us.”

He nods slowly, gradually unfreezing his limbs and functioning as normal again. When you do finally steal a gaze, he looks as if you’ve never said anything in the first place. The cigarette rises to his lips and he inhales, staring off the balcony as he thinks. You watch as the smoke comes pouring out of his mouth and nose a few seconds later, and that’s when he turns to look directly at you.

“Is Christian the guy you kissed on New Year’s Eve?”

You blink a few times as you try to process that subject change. Something spins in your stomach at the thought of Rafe not wanting to answer the question.

“What?” you ask, not even bothering to hide your confusion.

He laughs lightly, “Humor me. Is he the guy you kissed or not?”

“Yes.”

He nods, seemingly unaffected by the confirmation. You sit back in your chair and tuck your bottom lip between your teeth again, trying somehow to rid your body of the anxiety that seems to be rising up.

“Well,” he starts, tossing the rest of his cigarette off the balcony as he speaks, “I think I might die if I ever find out you kissed him again. Although, it’s not really fair of me to say that unless I do something about it, right?”

You’re not sure what game he’s playing, but at least it’s leading somewhere. That’s enough to get you to look up at him.

“I suppose not,” you say quietly.

“What would you like me to do about it, Y/N?”

Quite frankly, you have no idea how to answer that question. You can tell by the smirk on his face that he just wants you to say it, but you’re not sure you can. Just the thought that someone wants to be with you the way he does still hasn’t completely resonated yet. The thought of saying any word merely associated with the term relationship to Rafe Cameron has you teetering on the edge of insanity.

“I don’t know,” you reply, clearing your throat when your voice comes out barely audible.

He grins, “I’ve spent the last two days kissing the hell out of you, surprised every single time when you take control. It’s the words you always shy away from. Why?”

“I–” you stop yourself from claiming you don’t know when you look up and see his expression, daring you to lie. You stop and take a deep breath, releasing it before continuing, “I’ve never done this before, Rafe. I’m as inexperienced as they come. So, I don’t know the right things to say or when to know what to do. I have zero idea what’s happening right now, in fact. I just don’t want to go back to school confused. Or sad, if I’ve misread this and this is all it’s going to be. That’s okay, by the way, if that’s what you want, I just need to know. I need to–”

“Y/N,” he says, standing from his chair, “Take a breath, honey.”

You exhale, “Sorry.”

His laugh is short, quiet, and one of your favorite sounds to date. He kneels down in front of you and places both hands on top of your knees to steady himself. Your eyes gloss over each one of his features, wanting nothing more than to reach out and stroke a finger across his sharp jaw.

“I want you to be mine,” he tells you, “I want to be yours. In whatever way we do that is up to you. We’ll go at your pace. You don’t have to worry about me being here with anyone else, and I’ll try not to break Christian’s fucking arm next time I see him.”

You laugh, “Rafe. He’s nice.”

“He’s nice,” Rafe mocks, “Y/N, you really are new at this, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Go easy on me,” you whisper.

“I will, honey. You know I will. I’m yours. Tell me you’re mine.”

You smile and lean forward in your seat, sure that your poker face is already giving you away.

“I’m yours,” you say, your mouth hovering about three inches from his.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, “Can I take you inside now?”

“I would like that.”

He grins and holds his hand out to help you stand once he does, tugging you toward the sliding door. He pulls it open and guides you inside, wasting no time pulling you back to him for a kiss. This one feels different – they all feel different to you, Rafe communicates through his kisses, you’re sure – and you completely melt as he holds you up.

Without even realizing he’s inching you back, Rafe stops when he reaches the threshold of his bedroom.

“What’s mine stays in my room,” he explains, pulling back to look at you, brushing the pad of his thumb over your puffy bottom lip, “Your pace. Always at your pace, honey.”

You nod then, guiding your arms around his neck to pull him back down to you.

“Okay,” you say, “My pace.”

He smiles against your lips, “That’s right, beautiful girl. Come on.”

It has to easily be hours before you two finally stop kissing each other. You don’t mind the fact that he smoked right before he kissed you; in fact, you feel as if you can taste more of his whiskey than the smoke. He holds you on his lap, then guides you to lay down in the bed, but he never once moves to take it further. You set the rhythm, he follows it. After so long, your lips swollen to perfection, Rafe collapses beside you and wastes no time pulling you into his side.

“You okay?” he asks.

You bite your lip, “You really want me to stay in here?”

He laughs and pulls you even closer, his lips meeting your temple. You wonder how he can do that, given how tingly your lips still feel.

“More than anything else in the world, really,” he answers.

You smile and cuddle into him, using your angle to look around his room. It’s pretty normal; a TV, a dresser, curtains, more books. One thing you do notice, though, is that he has no pictures up. Nothing that makes it personal. Nothing that claims it as his own.

“I like your room.”

Another laugh from him, and you’re sure you have to be the funniest person in the world.

“Thank you,” he says, “Want me to tell you something personal?”

“Always.”

“You’re the first girl to be in this room.”

You can feel your heart plummet to your feet, and before you even fully digest his words, your head shoots up to look at him. Out of all the things he could’ve said to you right then, that is not one you ever would’ve thought of.

“I am?”

He nods, a sadness in his eyes that you can’t seem to properly place. You’re not sure if it’s really there.

“Yes.”

You move closer to him, pressing your body against his. He welcomes it, letting out a content sigh as you do so. You can feel the sleep ready to take over your body, comforted by the admission that you’re sleeping on a bed that’s only ever been occupied by Rafe himself.

“Rafe?”

“Hm?”

“Can I tell you the adjective I thought of to describe how I feel with you?”

You don’t have to look up at him, you can just hear the smile on his face as he replies.

“Sure.”

You smile against his chest and let the word slip out before both of you wind up falling asleep.

“Intoxicated.”

When your eyes open, you smile immediately. The simple sight of sunlight streaming in through Rafe’s window, illuminating his room, has you beaming. You can feel his arm lazily wrapped around your torso, but can tell there’s a bit of space in between the two of you because you can’t feel his body heat on your back.

You turn around gently, careful to keep his arm on you, and take him in. His lips are parted only slightly, barely, and his hair is sitting in ten different directions. You’re sure that’s partially because of sleeping, but also because you’d been running your fingers through it nonstop while kissing him. The sunlight hits his tan skin perfectly, and for a moment, you’d swear he’s glowing. You refuse to look away. You don’t want to miss even the smallest of movements; you want to memorize how he looks right now and carry it with you everywhere. Forever.

“Assigning me another adjective?”

His raspy voice hits you directly in the heart, but you try not to let it show.

You laugh, grin wide, “Yes, actually.”

His eyes remain closed, but his lips get pushed together as he tries to suppress his smile.

“Don’t leave me in suspense, honey.”

You shimmy closer before you can help it, smile widening when you feel his hand travel from your waist up your back to pull you in.

“Alluring.”

“Alluring,” he repeats, “Wow. Imagine what my adjective will be after I take a shower.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, focusing back on him just in time to watch those blue eyes flutter open to greet the day. He smiles then, and up close, you can see the way his eyes crinkle when he does so. Devastatingly handsome, that’s what you’re sure he’d look like after a shower.

“Hi,” you whisper.

He laughs, “Hi. Did you sleep okay?”

“Very okay.”

“Me too,” he says, “I want to take you to breakfast before I have to put you on the ferry. Will you let me do that?”

You nod, letting his desires outweigh your fear of being seen on the island. You’re sure none of the members of the Club will be out getting breakfast anywhere, considering they all do brunch at the Club every Sunday.

“It’s allowed,” you tease.

“Good. Are you going to let me kiss you, or do you want to brush first?”

You smile at how well he seems to have already caught on to you, and you’re sure he’s not at all surprised when you sit up.

“I’ll be two minutes,” you promise.

He groans, “Make it one.”

You hurry off to the guest room bathroom and scrub your teeth, every nerve in your body firing with anticipation. It’s only been about seven hours since you kissed him last, and yet, it feels like way too long. Especially with him being so close all night.

When you reach his room again, you stop in the doorway when he's no longer in bed. You’re not sure what to do; if you should get back in bed and wait or move to the living room. He emerges from the bathroom then, hair still messy as ever, and laughs lightly when he sees you in the doorway.

“I brushed, too,” he says, “C’mere.”

He pulls you just inside his room and presses you against the wall beside his door, wasting no time pressing his lips to yours. It’s agonizingly slow at first, his kiss, just wanting to savor the feeling of each other so close. When he pulls away after a minute, you groan.

“Rafe,” you whine.

“Shit, I–” he drops his head back, “Fuck. Go get ready for breakfast. Stay a second longer and I won’t stop.”

You giggle and peck his lips quickly before hurrying off to the guest room, only so happy to hurry through a shower and get dressed before shoving all of your belongings back into your duffle bag. Just before you zip it up, your eye catches on the note you’d saved from Rafe that he had taped to the fridge. You smile when the idea comes to you, and when you hear Rafe’s shower running, you hurry into the kitchen to find paper and a pen.

“Okay, are you sure you’ve got everything?” he asks as he shrugs on his jacket by the door.

“Yeah, think so,” you say, “I’ll double check. Wait here.”

He just nods. You escape back into the kitchen and slide your note under his magnet, hoping it will make him smile the way his did for you. Quickly, you read over it for flaws.

Rafe,

I miss you already. Crazy, because you’re just in the shower. I kind of mean more so when I leave the island. Don’t forget it’s your turn to write.

Eat your cookies and think of me every time. I’ll definitely be thinking of you all week.

Yours,

Y/N

You’re so sure he’ll love the way you sign off the note that you almost want to hand it to him now just so you can see the expression on his face. Holding back, you walk back into the entryway and reach for his hand.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready.”

Rafe guides you out of his truck and into the restaurant with a sad smile painted across his features. You know why; he has to take you to the port after this and watch you go back to school. Away from him.

He only releases your hand when the two of you are seated, but at that point, you’re under the grasp of his stare. His intense, breath-hitching stare.

“Have I told you you’re beautiful yet?” he asks you.

“About a thousand times,” you mutter.

He grins, “Today.”

“Oh,” you chuckle, “I don’t think so.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful, honey.”

Your insides are doing cartwheels, and when the waitress approaches the table, you can’t think straight enough to even understand what you’re supposed to say. Rafe orders you both coffee and asks for a minute on the food. You know he did that for you – he’ll be having pancakes for sure.

“Would you hold it against me if I said I don’t want to go back to school?” you ask.

“Of course not,” he replies, “Is it because of us? Or something different?”

“A little,” you admit, “I just feel different when I’m with you. Less guarded, kind of.”

He nods, “What about Emma?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance, when really, you’d been unable to admit much about your feelings with respect to your relationship with Emma.

“She’s my best friend. She just–” you sigh and start over, “Emma has a certain way that things should go. I’ve never fit that, but she’s always loved me anyway. There are just things I can’t tell her, because, I don’t know, she’d think I was a prude, or–”

“Holy shit! Rafe?”

You freeze at the male voice behind you, sounding closer than ever. Rafe’s eyes leave yours, widening slightly when he sees whoever it is. You’re not sure what to do, a new twinge of anxiety settling in.

“Wow, man, it’s been a minute. I thought we were going to see you last weekend for sure, you never miss–”

“Kelce, please,” Rafe stops him, “I’m having breakfast with my girl. Don’t.”

You turn at the admission, ignoring the way your body reacts to the words my and girl in reference to you. You take in the guy who Rafe seems to know; he’s tall and handsome, a smile already plastered across his face. When he sees you, however, it drops a bit. You try not to take that to mean anything, but your mind goes crazy with insecurities on what that could mean.

“Um,” Kelce clears his throat, “Sorry, I–”

“Can we catch up some other time?” Rafe’s voice is turning urgent, and you’re struggling to keep up with all of this.

You look up at Kelce again and find that he’s already staring at you. Not in a way that makes you feel he’s being inappropriate, more that he’s analyzing you.

“Yeah, Cameron, sure. I just–” Kelce looks at you again and finally gives into whatever thought is bothering him, “Man, she looks so much like Ava.”

Your face falls at that, having no idea what this means. When you look at Rafe, his jaw is clenched so hard you swear it might break.

“Kelce,” he seethes.

“Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Kelce facepalms, “Dude, really. I’m sorry. It just took me by surprise–”

“I’ll shoot you a text sometime this week,” Rafe says, dismissing him with a wave.

“Okay, sure,” Kelce looks over at you, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to compare you to her, she was–”

“Kelce, don’t make me drag you away from this table.”

You can’t form even a small it’s okay when he smiles timidly at you before walking off, because suddenly, you can’t find the words for anything. You had no idea what just happened, and you’d said nothing throughout the entire thing. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry and your chest suddenly tight.

“Y/N, look at me,” Rafe says quietly.

You do as instructed, but you do it slowly. When your eyes meet his, your guard is up. His seems to be down.

“Who was that?” you ask weakly.

“Y/N,” he repeats, “I need you to relax.”

“Who is Ava?” you continue your questions, acting as if he never spoke.

He opens his mouth, but the waitress stops in front of the table with coffee, and he clamps it shut. You give her a small thank you and applaud yourself for having the courage to speak up that time.

“I can’t tell you about Ava here, honey. Please.”

You suck in a deep breath, “She looks just like me. Is she an ex-girlfriend or something?”

When he doesn’t answer right away, you let out a small, incredulous laugh and busy yourself with dumping creamer into your coffee. A part of you knows you’re just being insecure, but Rafe’s weirdness surrounding the entire subject is throwing you off even further. He’s not the type of guy who hides from things, he owns his shit. At least you thought he did.

“Y/N, please,” he begs.

You just shake your head, “Consider it forgotten.”

He knows you’re lying and so do you. You slide him the dish with the creamer containers, keeping the sugar for yourself.

“Please,” he repeats, “Please trust me.”

You swallow and look up at him from your coffee, extending your hand and silently asking for his own.

“I do.”

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