#this was supposed to only take one week to write

[zyafics]

omg hi!! hope ur doing well i love ur writing btw, (play fake is one of my fav fics ive EVER read!!)

could u do a fic where rafe and reader are like best friends, and they’ve always both kinda liked each other but they dont really act upon it, until rafe gets a buzzcut and reader starts acting like real shy and clumsy around him bcs she’s shocked abt how he could get even MORE attractive, and then he gets linda confused so he asks her why she’s acting so different and then she tells him? make it as smutty and fluffy as u want! 🫶🫶

first off, ily 🥹 and omg, YES!! i've been thinking about this ever since i got your req in my inbox, so here's my very earnest attempt at doing it justice 🩷

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pairing rafe cameron x bsf!female reader

reader type kook, spontaneous, loves adventure, hates silence, loves noises, doesn't exactly like her reality, and friends with topper and kelce, but is only close to rafe!

content (5.3k words) 18+, fluff, smut, soft!rafe to reader only, protected p in v, f receiving oral, lots of banter!, nicknames used: baby and wildflower.

dedication to @mintforadollar for helping me with the nickname and for @erwinsvow for her lovely fic, which i drew inspiration from and i've been obsessing over for the past two weeks <3

lıllılı Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"I want to run away."

It takes a moment for Rafe to register your confession and his response is a drowsy laugh. "Buy a guy dinner first."

You let out a groan, slumping against your wrinkled sheets and abundant pillows spread across your bed. "I'm being serious, Rafe. I'm tired of this house. It's too empty and quiet. I can't stand it. At night, I think I can hear my skin buzzing."

Rafe is accustomed to your sporadic calls regarding whatever issues you had with the world. Last week, it was about the insufficient amount of family portraits that frame the halls of your mansion.

"Maybe you just need to change your sheets."

"Stop!" You chastise. Rafe chokes up with another beat of laughter, low and rich with the deep timbre of his voice. The sound temporarily draws you away from your rant, igniting a small ember in your stomach. You brush away those tingly thoughts. "You're not listening to me."

"I think I'm listening to you perfectly fine, wildflower." He reassures, the solemnity of his tone takes you off the edge. Rafe shuffles on the other line, moving to a sitting position against his headboard. "What do you want? Do you want me to come pick you up?"

You cower from his offer, tucking one of your pillows under your chin. "You don't have to..."

"Don't get all shy with me now. You can't act this way when you're waking me up in the dead of night to report about your getaway plans."

"I feel bad."

Rafe sighs, getting off his bed. He knows the outcome of this conversation and rather prepares himself for the short drive. "I'm heading over."

"I could walk."

"It's freezing outside."

"Your house is down the block. I can survive."

"I'm already out the door. Just stay put." Rafe announces and before he's about to disconnect the call, he adds. "I'm serious."

He arrives in record time. Honking his truck with no regards for the nearby neighbors and you pad downstairs with a bag, descending down the driveway to the passenger side of his truck. A little shiver travels down your spine at the cool North Carolina weather.

"God, what did I tell you?" He scolds, noticing your lack of outwear, and reaches for the blanket in the backseats he keeps just for you. He throws it at your face, suffocating your air with a fluffy white fleece. You roll your eyes, covering your shoulders with it as Rafe reverses. "Where do you want to go?"

"Thought I'm supposed to buy you a meal first."

He doesn't bother entertaining your retort with a glance and flicks the side of your head with his fingers. You giggle. "We're not running away."

"Who said you're included in this adventure? I remember it being a one-person job."

Rafe scoffs. "You can't run away. You'd miss me too much."

"No, you'd miss me too much." You tease back, watching his lips pull to an upward curve at your words. It makes your heart flutters, knowing you always manage to get this side of Rafe. To the rest of Outer Banks, Rafe is seen as a precarious, self-absorbed playboy, but to you, he's your best friend.

And a little more.

The truck parks on the roadside of Tannyhill, the silhouettes of the estate surrounded by shadowy oak trees and a deep reflection of the moon on their waterfront view. Rafe doesn't make a move to leave, nor turn off the engine, before he turns to you.

"You okay?" He asks gravely, all humor stripped off his handsome features. You feel the air of your lungs stolen, at the amount of attention he's paying you, and the atmospheric change turns you to a bashful version of yourself.

"Fine." You answer, looking to your lap. "You know..."

Despite your house being a near-identical model to Rafe's, you hate yours. It's nothing about the architecture but rather the emptiness of the hallways. The cold floors sweep with minimalist decors. The echoes in the chambers where you can hear every little whirl in the air conditioner and creaks in the pipes. You'd rather be at Tannyhill.

Rafe doesn't say anything for the next few moments, observing you, before conceding a sigh. "Tell you what. I'll take you out on the Druthers tomorrow. We'll go bright and early, sail out for a couple of hours, watch the sunrise and it'll be something."

You lift your head, eyes lit up. "Is this our escape?"

"We gotta come back, though."

You frown but the offer remains enticing. It's better than nothing.

"Okay, deal." You nod, holding out your pinkie finger. Rafe scoffs at your gesture, but nonetheless, returns it. "Don't look so glum. You get to hang out with me."

"You do realize we have about three hours of sleep?"

You glance at the clock on his dashboard. He's right. But, you don't want to hold it off till another day. "I can go by myself. Just give me the keys for tomorrow."

He rolls his eyes, as if he would even consider that suggestion, and shakes his head. "I'm coming with you."

"Aren't you afraid you won't get your beauty sleep?"

"Shut up and get in the house."

You laugh and hop out of his truck. When you enter through his bedroom, you throw your bag to a random corner and stroll over to his closet in search for one of Rafe's tees to sleep in.

When you settle on something, you strip out of your clothes—in the middle of his bedroom, just as Rafe enters—and exchange it for his shirt. He had little regard for your act, having grown accustomed to you changing in front of him and vice versa. 

All Rafe does is pull off his own shirt, because he likes to sleep naked, and turns back to you. Unlike him, you're never going to get used to seeing him naked—the defined muscles of his chest, the toned planes of his abs, all those hours spent at the gym are clearly not wasted.

You flush, realizing you're ogling him longer than appropriate, and lift your gaze to find a smirk curving his lips. "Oh, shut it," you push his shoulders, causing him to laugh. He takes the opportunity to capture your hand, pulling the both of you onto his mattress, and you yelp.

Rafe changes your position so you're facing him, an arm sprawls over your waist, and there's about a couple of inches of space between the two of you. Here, in the low streams of the moonlight glistening through the veiled curtains and the faint aroma of his cologne on his pillows, you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

You say nothing. He says nothing, You stare into his cerulean eyes, knowing all this little emotions you're feeling all over—the light pricks on your skin where he touches you, the lapse in your breathing from how attentive he is, and the sharp incline of your heart rate pulsing through your veins—is because of him.

His voice is low when he says, "you know you're my best friend, right?"

You couldn't find it in you to answer. You just nod.

Rafe swallows hard, not having the ability to string together the next sentence. Instead, all he does is nod along, leaning forward to place a light kiss on your forehead, before falling asleep.

The next morning, just an hour before the sunrise, Rafe and you head to the ports to board the Druthers. Despite the lack of adequate sleep, you were giddily and strumming with high energy. He holds out his hand to guide you up the stairs, afraid your enthusiasm would cause you to miss a step. 

When the Druthers is far enough from shore, it pulls to a halt, gently bobbing on the ocean waves of the tame morning. You settle on the deck and Rafe slides into the spot next to you. Here, you have the perfect view of the sun slowly rising from the horizon, painting the sky in a palette of red, orange and yellow.

You're grinning. You're feeling much better, especially after your melodramatic episode. Your head rests on Rafe's chest, observing the skyline until the sun reaches its acme, while he watches you. Something about you, happy, content, and with him brings a warmth no one can replicate.

"We have to go swimming." You announce suddenly, twisting your head to look at him with excitement bubbling on your features, doe eyes pleading with a want.

His expression is flat, trying to contain his emotions. "It's seven in the morning."

"So? When has that stopped me before?"

"It's freezing cold."

"That's your excuse for everything." You scoff, before tilting your head in a challenge. "Are you scared of a little water, Rafe Cameron?"

There's a twinkle in your eyes, something about the way you talk to him, he would never allow from anyone else. It's just you. He had to look away, pretending to shake his head from the idea but knowing, at the end, he lost.

With a long dip into the ocean, you swim around the Druthers with light splashes thrown in his face, causing Rafe to chase after you for your little stunt. When the pair of you returned to the boat, dripping wet on the floor deck, laughter exchanging at the break of dawn.

"You cheated!" You accuse, grinning.

"I did not. You're just slow."

When you change out of your bikini and Rafe changes out of his swim trunks, you return to the cockpit where Rafe dons a new attire: khaki pants, a polo shirt, and his backward baseball cap. The air shifts, a more solemn expression on his face.

"You had enough now, wildflower?" He tips his head to your direction, as you approach him. "Ready to return back to the real world?"

You groan. "What's so special about that place?"

"Nothing that matters to you," he declares, "but I have a couple of errands I have to run today. I have to get back, but I won't leave until you're feeling better."

"Hm." You consider your satisfaction. Standing before Rafe, you watch as his lips curl in amusement at the way you're mauling through the finer details. The itinerary of your day and whether it was enough. When your eyes lock with his, you offer him a sweet smile, albeit a little reluctant.

"What?"

You don't answer him, reaching for his hat and taking it off his head, before plopping it over your own as a keepsake souvenir. "Now, I am."

—

After spending your afternoon with Topper and Kelce at the Country Club, distracting them from their tee time with your commentary about their swings, Rafe finally arrives to join you.

But it's different.

When Rafe said he had a couple of errands to run, you didn't ask for their specifics. He just said he'll join you later and you were content with that assumption.

You should've prepared yourself.

Rafe got a new haircut; a buzz that took away his dirty blond locks and a clean fade on the sides. For some reason, it makes your heart accelerate. Your breath shortens. Rafe has always been attractive before but now, you couldn't even look at him.

When he tries to approach you in greeting, you dip out of the way and return to Topper and Kelce. However, in the middle of your path, you nearly tripped over some hazardously-abandoned golf club one of the boys threw out, but Rafe caught you. A hand on your elbow, his brows drawn together in concern.

"You good?" He asks. You can't help but let your eyes stray up to his hairline, finding it voided of the curtain bangs it previously occupies and the strands you like to mess with. Your gaze instantly drops to the ground.

"I'm–I'm fine." You stutter, heat rising to your cheeks from the embarrassing fact that you couldn't even make a clean getaway. Rafe helps you find your balance and you slip out of his grasp as you excuse yourself back to the other Kooks.

That's how the rest of the evening went. Through another round of golf and a dinner at the restaurant inside the Country Club, you try to ignore Rafe to the best of your abilities. It was a difficult task but a necessary one. Your emotions were fuzzy and harder to control. You couldn't even look at your best friend without flushing or revealing everything on your face.

You thought you could wait it out till you get home.

"Come on, wildflower." Rafe grabs your wrist, just as you're about to join Topper in his car, and you turn to face his contempt expression. Annoyance written over his features. "I'm driving you home."

"No, it's fine. Top said he can give me a ride—"

"We live nearby each other. There's no point for Top to do all that. Right?" Rafe cuts a hard look to the blond in the driver seat, to whom easily backs off with two hands raised in surrender. Coward. Rafe turns back to you. "Let's go."

You end up in the passenger seat of his truck. On the long drive back to Figure Eight, you were uncharacteristically quiet. Often, you would fidget with the stereo, messing with Rafe's presets on country and rap stations, to which he always has to swat your hands away. Today, you sat obediently in your seat, hands tucked between your thighs, looking anywhere but Rafe.

"You're not going to listen to music?" He asks, trying to cut the silence. You shake your head.

"I'm not feeling it."

You try to count the seconds. You try to distract yourself by looking out the window and listening to the chirps of crickets coming out, but all you can focus on is the sound of yours and Rafe's breathing. The acute awareness of something in the air. The amount of space between the two of you. The way something deep in you changed about him.

It isn't his fault. Whatsoever. It's all yours. All those times spent at Tannyhill, stealing his shirts to wear to sleep, cuddling up in his bed after sneaking out of your estate, running around with Rafe doing god-knows-what. You developed something for him. A crush. An inkling.

You always told yourself you could control it. It's natural for best friends to like each other at one point. It'll fade away eventually.

But, unfortunately for you, that isn't the case. it got worse. It grew more desperate. With each inching territory into something else means a larger consequence it can have on your friendship.

You can't lose him.

"Hey." Rafe calls out, his voice softens considerably from the aggression he used with Topper a while back. You don't turn to face him, despite that being his sole objective, and you respond back with a light hum. "Am I driving you home or Tannyhill?"

To you, those are the same things. Home is where Tannyhill is, where Rafe is. But, you knew what he was referring to.

"Tannyhill." You answer in a chipped tone. "I forgot my bag."

"Of course, you did." He teases, trying to break the tension with some lightheartedness. It doesn't work. You don't answer, too lost in resisting the urge to look at him.

Rafe sighs when you refuse to acknowledge him and turns back to the road. That's when you spare a glance from the corner of your peripheral; just a small peek.

And there he is: Rafe with the fresh shave that is such a strange yet welcomed sight. It brings out a clearer definition of his handsome features, the planes of his sharp profile, the cut of his jawline and the wrinkles around his eyes you always adore. It's too much for you.

You can't let him know that.

He's your best friend.

When he reaches Tannyhill, you leap out of the moving vehicle and race up the porch. You take the hidden key from under the mat and turn the lock, slipping into the familiar foyer and up the large stairwell.

Racing against an internal clock, once you enter the bedroom, you search for your bag, but you can't seem to pinpoint its location. When you manage to miraculously find it underneath the covers, you throw it over your shoulders and sprint to the exit.

Only for Rafe to block it.

"Why are you in such a rush?" He asks, his brows furrowed together as he examines you. You quickly drop your gaze to the ground, pretending to be interested in the patterns on the marble.

"I just..." You stammer for an excuse. "I just got to get home."

"Why? You hate your house."

"I don't hate it." You lie. The conversation tips into an awkward tension—the exact thing you were trying to avoid. You think you need to spend a day, or two, or a whole week, to collect yourself and force yourself back to normal. Back to when you can look at him without revealing everything on your face.

"God, what is it? You don't like it?" Rafe laughs with an ounce of nervousness and the sound takes you back. You look up, finding him running a hand over his buzzcut. "It's my hair, isn't it?"

He didn't know why he decided to buzz it off. He just did. He didn't care if his father didn't approve or if Wheezie would make fun of him for the sudden change in appearance. That didn't matter to him.

But your opinions did.

"What?" Your lips part. Were you that obvious? "I never said that."

"You didn't need to. This entire evening, you've barely looked at me."

He's right.

"I was busy."

"Playing golf with Top? You hate that shit." He retorts, dropping his hand to his side, clenching them into whiten knuckles. "And when we were at the restaurant. You were sitting with Kelce. Why the fuck were you sitting with him instead of me?"

You swallow hard. Your throat is tightening with all the words you can't reveal.

"Maybe I just want to change it up. I am friends with them too—"

"But you're my friend first."

You scoff. "Possessive much?"

"Very." He answers nonchalantly. Your heart skips a beat. He can't say that; it's not fair. "And knowing you for so long, I know what you're telling me is complete and total bullshit."

His hand slides under your jaw, lifting your gaze to meet his, and you can't help but feel your walls crumbling. You're afraid. You're so afraid.

"Come on, wildflower." He murmurs softly, swiping his thumb across your cheek. "Tell me the truth."

You have always been able to do that. In ways. When Rafe asks something of you, you're always able to tell him straight. It's one of the qualities he likes about you. Now is the first time you're going against your nature. Because it's too close, too real, that it can change everything.

Your throat grows dry and you lick your bottom lip, causing Rafe to glance down.

"I..." You begin, trying to string together a coherent sentence that won't damage everything. He raises a brow, waiting. "Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you."

You close your eyes after the confession. Your heart is in his hands.

All the air in the room stills, as if the air conditioner turns off and you're all left with a tense, palpable silence. You can't bear it. At least, at your house, you can blast your speakers on full-volume to create some level of noise and block it out. Here, all you can hear is the thumping of your heart in your ears.

"Say something." You urge.

"Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you too."

Your heart drops. You think he doesn't understand. He thinks you can't stand him physically, especially after his haircut, and this is a similar sentiment shared by him about you.

He doesn't feel the same way.

"Oh."

You open your eyes, trying hard not to cry. You can feel them swelling with hot tears but you blink fast, trying to not let Rafe see.

He immediately recognizes the look, drawing back his hand. That’s not what he meant. "Don't cry."

You're not doing a good job at hiding anything today. "No, it's okay," you say with a crack voice, "you don't have to—"

"No, fuck," he swears, "what I mean is that, sometimes, when you look at me, I just—" He couldn't explain himself, not in time, not in the way he wants, that he covers your eyes, flooding your vision with darkness and heightening every other sense.

Rafe releases a deep exhale, collecting himself. "Those eyes..." He mumbles, the resonance of his voice so close, it's as if he's right beside you. You feel his breathing fanning against the curve of your neck, raising goosebumps. "They drive me fucking insane."

Then, he kisses your neck.

The act jolts you by surprise.

"Everything about you drives me insane." He confesses against your heated skin, the vibration of his words sending straight tingles through your body. "I can't go a day without thinking about you. About wanting you."

Not just as a best friend, but as a whole. Everything about you he needs. In his life; forever. Sometimes, he can't believe you exist.

You're overwhelmed with all these new emotions. Your heart is swelling. "Rafe..."

"You're my best friend, right?" He muses, delivering kisses up the column of your throat to the underside of your jaw, and making his way closer to your lips. "But you're also the only one for me."

Before he gets to your mouth, you grab his wrist, the one holding you blindfolded. He stops in place—afraid this is your time to reject him.

"Rafe." You breathe out. "Can I see you?"

He slowly removes his hand, allowing your vision to flood back with his presence. This time, the sight of Rafe doesn't push you into overdrive. There's a new sense of clarity and calm, an elated comfort you don't share with anyone else.

You take your time drinking him in. From his face, to his lips, to the fresh haircut you're feeling entirely too grateful for. You do it all without fear.

"What?" He demands, his insecurities skyrocketing through the roof. "Don't like it?"

"I love you."

His heart lunges in his chest. He couldn't believe the words coming from your lips. When it completely registers that this is not some sweet, wet dream he's going to wake up from, his hands reach forward to cup either side of your face and he finally kisses you.

His force pushes you back against his bed and you land on the mattress with a soft thump. You laugh into his mouth and Rafe grins against your lips.

"Eager, much?"

"I wanted to hear you say that for so long." He admits, his hand travels down your waist to grab your hips and pull you closer. Rafe deepens the kiss, swallowing the little sounds you're making, until you have to pull away to catch your breath.

You can't believe this is happening.

"I didn't know you were such a good kisser."

"Yeah? You wanna know what else I'm good at?"

Your eyes drop to his pants, seeing the subtle outline of his erection straining against his zipper, and he chuckles lowly. "You want it tonight?"

You nod timidly. Your eyes dropping to your lap again, but this time, Rafe doesn't allow you to do such things.

He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to his. "Don't do that, baby. You know how I feel about you getting shy from asking what you want. Use your words."

The new nickname is making you lightheaded. You can't believe this is real. "I want you, Rafe."

Sweetest goddamn words he ever heard.

He tips his head to your clothes. "Take it off."

"You first."

He laughs at your competitiveness, always trying to challenge him, but he doesn't resist. He pushes himself off the mattress, pulling off his shirt and removing his pants. All that is left is his boxer-briefs, which reveals the outline of his bulge. "Your turn."

You take off your shirt and your shorts and decide, last minute, to go the extra mile and unclasp your bra too. It falls over your shoulders and you throw it out onto the floor.

Rafe takes his time, staring at your tits. He has seen you naked before, the consequence of your intimate relationship that pushes the boundaries into blurred lines and the inevitable collision of morning showers in his ensuite and drunken exchanges after parties.

But this time, it's different. This time, it's a sight that's intentional—just for him.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?"

You gawk at him, the words send a thrill down your spine. "Do you know how long I waited for this?" You gesture back to him, at his naked frame, and he smirks.

"You got an eyeful last night."

"Oh, shut up," you use your leg to kick him, but Rafe catches your ankle in the process. Your eyes widen as he uses the opportunity to spread your legs apart, sinking between your thighs. His gaze finds your soaked panties.

His thumb traces across your panties, drawing out your wetness against the fabric and collecting your arousal. You whimper, aching into his touch.

"Rafe, please." You beg. His eyes lifts to find yours in a self-satisfied grin. He loves knowing you're this desperate for him, only him, that his fingers hook under the band of your panties.

"Lift your hips for me." He commands and you obey. He pulls off your panties and hauls you to the ledge of his bed. With that, his fingers caress your wet slit, drawing out a low moan from you. "Fuck."

He has imagined that sound a thousand times over, but it's incomparable to the real thing. To know you're feeling this way because of him. He feels himself growing harder, straining against the thin fabric and begging to be inside of you.

But he wants to pleasure you first.

Rafe lowers himself and covers your clit with his mouth. He proceeds to suck, his fingers grazing your entrance before plunging a thick digit inside.

You tip your head against the mattress, reveling in the feel of his tongue against your swollen nub, the way he thrusts into you with a steady pace and the additive finger. Your legs drape over his shoulders, closing him in.

"Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet," Rafe mumbles against you, the vibration of his words stirring something inside of you. "I can't believe I haven't been tasting you every single fucking night."

You draw out with a breathy moan, feeling yourself clench at his words. "We have all the time now."

"I bet I can make you come on my face fast, though."

You don't get a chance to entertain the response before Rafe sucks harder, pumping inside of you with a determined speed that causes you to arch off the mattress and claw at his sheets.

"Shit," you whimper, squeezing your thighs together at the intense pleasure, forcing Rafe to use his free hand to push your legs apart. You feel your climax rapidly approaching. "Oh, god, oh, god."

You come on his face, as promised, and you slump back against the bed, catching your breath. Rafe removes his hand from your cunt, the emptiness causes a little whine.

"What?" He looks at you.

"Nothing," you mumble, "I just want you inside me."

He laughs. "God, you're needy," he teases, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. "Don't worry, baby, you'll get it soon."

He goes to his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Just as he's about to tear it open, he glances down at you, extending the small square. "Want to do it?"

You nod, pushing yourself upright and taking it from his hands. You rip it open, as Rafe removes his boxers, and his cock springs free, red and swollen with a bit of precum. You smile, glancing up at him with your doe eyes. "Is that because of me?"

"Shut up."

You giggle, rolling the latex over his length, taking your time to admire his size. He's big and perfect, the tip of his cock dripping with his precum that you almost wish you could take him inside your mouth instead. However, despite the recent orgasm, your body wants him inside.

"Lay back." He commands thickly. "Spread your legs."

You do as he says, throbbing from the control he has in the room. Rafe sinks his knees into his mattress, approaching you as he pushes your thighs apart and lines his tip against your entrance, causing your breath to shorten.

"Come on, wildflower, breathe with me."

You nod shakily, closing your eyes for a moment to inhale a calming breath before he plunges deep inside you, filling you to the hilt. A gasp escapes you, his girth stretching you out, but it soon fades into a pleasure unlike any others.

"God, you feel good," he mumbles, lowering himself to your mouth and capturing your lips into a hot kiss. Your hand drapes over his shoulders as he begins to thrust inside of you. "Too fucking good."

You feel perfect. All of this is too perfect. The way you press against him, your fingernails scraping his back, the way your pussy grips him with the ideal amount of pressure, and the way your lips sync with his as if you were made for him.

The air fills with your whimpers and mewls, increasing in volume with each thrusts that enters and leaves you, while Rafe is heaving in breathy grunts and moans. He pushes your legs back, forcing the new position to grant him deeper access into your sweet cunt.

He's hitting new spots you didn't know were possible. It's making your eyes roll to the back of your head, your cries coming out with desperate pleas, that he had to cover your mouth with his to swallow all the noises.

When you feel yourself reaching a familiar high, the buzz tingling between your legs, you grip his shoulders tight. Rafe feels your walls fluttering around him, and he quickened his pace, sweat breaking across his forehead.

Your breath is heavy, your heart is racing, and as you ascend into your peak, you moan out Rafe's name with such euphoric satisfaction, he comes with you, emptying into the condom.

When he finishes, he falls into the space next to you. His breathing is rough, trying to catch his own breath, that you can't help but turn your gaze to his, examining him under this new light.

Rafe catches you staring, the way your eyes lift to his hairline, and he reassures with a soft brush against your jaw. "It'll grow back, I promise."

"it's not that." You declare, dropping your gaze down to his face. You still can't believe the embarrassment you still feel by how attractive he is. "I like it."

"You do?"

"Why else would I hide from you?"

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with a ghost of a smile on his lips. His hand drops to your waist, pulling you closer to him until you're skin-to-skin, your breasts pressing against his chest.

"You couldn't tell me the whole time?" He mumbles, kissing your nose. You giggle.

"If I did, we wouldn't be here having sex."

He takes a moment to consider your words, before finding some merit in them. "Fair." He declares, just as his eyes find yours again. This time, he can look at you, knowing you're his. "I guess next time I get a new haircut, I can propose, huh?"

Your heart drops. Your smile fades from surprise. "What?"

He laughs at your expression. "You think I'm letting you go after this? It's either us or nothing."

Maybe reality isn’t too bad. 

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[sinofwriting]

Wine - Charles Leclerc

Words: 1,120 Summary: Charles wakes up to an empty bed. Note(s): Slight NSFW, Angst, I was trying to write something else and then this popped into my brain. So everyone say thank you Sin’s brain, now please write what you actually were supposed to write.

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

He wakes to an empty bed and the good mood that the restful sleep had put him in is gone, replaced with confusion. Charles always woke up first. He could count on one hand in the three years they had been dating when she had woken up before him. This was the fourth time.

Getting up, he lets out a groan as he stretches. A yawn that nearly makes his jaw pop escapes him as he moves out of the bedroom, journeying to find where his girlfriend is.

“Baby,” he whines and she jumps at the sound of his voice. “You aren’t in bed.” She doesn’t say anything and he frowns, coming closer and his heart stops as his eyes adjust and focus on her, her face stained with tears, lip trembling. “Oh, baby. What happened?” He breathes, kneeling on the carpet in front of her. “I,” She starts, only for the tears to start falling again. His stomach twists. “It’s okay.” She shakes her head. “Cha,” she pauses, swallowing thickly. “I’m pregnant.”

He stares at her with wide eyes, the joy he is supposed to hear at those words unable to form at the sight of her tears and downtrodden expression. Instead, it’s pain, heartbreaking pain. It comes and hits him so fast that tears sprang to his eyes.

Those words were supposed to be said with happy disbelief. Maybe after he watched her pee on a stick or as they sat in a doctor's office, or him coming home to her and she’s unable to not stop herself from saying it before anything else. They aren’t supposed to be said like this.

And god, he wanted kids, she wanted kids, they wanted kids, didn’t they? When they got together, when they got serious, they talked about it. About wanting kids. About him wanting three, about her not wanting more than that because Monaco was just too small to raise more than that in. Had that changed for her? Had it changed her and she just never said? Had he not noticed? Had he mistaken the longing look in her eyes when they met Chiara? Had it actually been disgust? Had they not come home and she demanded him to try and fuck a baby into her, despite her birth control? Had they not in the afterglow talked about babies, the names they liked, the crib she was and liked?

“Are we,” He clears his throat, taking a deep breath. “Are you upset about it?” She nods quickly and a few tears slip from his eyes. “Charles.” Her voice breaks around his name. “We had wine last night, I drank wine last night. What if,” she’s sobbing now. “What if it hurt the baby?” Horrible relief fills him and he’s gathering in his arms, tears spilling down his face as he presses kisses to her head. “No.” He breathes. “No, it will be okay, mon amour. I’ll get you an appointment with the doctor today, yeah? Make sure that they are okay?” She nods, sniffling. “Okay.”

He doesn’t know how long he holds her for before he can finally let her go a little bit.

“Hi, baby.” He whispers, wiping away the tear tracks on her face with his fingers. “Hi Cha.” He smiles at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Can you tell me again?” He asks, voice still a whisper. “Can you, please?” She looks at him, a smile on her face for the first time this morning. “Cha, I’m pregnant.” His eyes close at the words, lips forming a grin. The joy that he hadn’t been able to feel early, coursing through him.

“I’m so happy.” He breathes hours later when they are in bed, back from the doctors that had told them the baby was okay, nothing to worry about as she was only ten weeks along. She beams at him, fingers dancing over his pecs as she straddles his lower stomach. “It is good news.” “The best.”

He privately wishes she had his ring on her finger and his last name, but that could happen next week. He had the ring already anyway, his plans for next month somewhat ruined, but that was fine, this was better than that anyway.

“How did you know?” He asks. The doctor hadn’t, probably because of how panicked he had been on the phone when demanding an appointment and explaining why. Her fingers stop moving and she’s not looking him in the eye anymore. “Mon amour,” “My phone.” He looks at her confused and she must be able to feel it since she’s looking at his chest, not his face because she continues. “I woke up to go to the bathroom and when I came back, my phone, it had a notification asking me if I had gotten my period yet. I hadn’t even realized I was late. So, I went to the kitchen, drank two glasses of water and took a test.” His eyebrows furrow. “You left to go buy a test?” He couldn’t imagine sleeping through the sound of her leaving the apartment to get a test. Her fingers dig a little into his chest, but he doesn’t even flinch and she looks at him, nervous. “I already had one in the bathroom.” Charles’ jaw drops. “What?” She shifts back on him, “it’s just since Chiara, we’ve been so much more active! I wanted to be prepared in case.”

His hands that have been resting on the bed, occasionally before he asked how she knew, running up and down her calves, land on her hips, gripping them tight as he moves her until she’s properly straddling him. “We were trying to make a baby.” He reminds of her. “Practicing.” She corrects. “We were practicing making a baby.” One of his eyebrows raises and he tightens his grip on her hips, forcing her to grind on his hardening cock. “Really? Because I remember a lot of you begging me to cum inside of you, to give you a baby, my baby.” “Cha.” She whines. “What baby?” He murmurs, sitting up to press their lips together. “I did it, didn’t I? Give you my baby.” “You are impossible.” She whispers before returning his kiss with a kiss of her own. “But yes. You did give me a baby.” He groans, thrusting up as best as he can. “Promise me,” he begins as he presses kisses to her jaw. “That next time you’ll tell me. You’ll tell me that you bought a test. I,” he groans again. “I want to know.” She nods, frantic. “Yes, yes. I promise. I promise I’ll tell you.” “Good. Now take off your clothes. I want to start practicing for baby number two.”

@cixrosie @badbatch-simp24 @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @ironspdy @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @kimmiB13 @alessioayla @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @elliegrey2803 @tallrock35 @casperlikej

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader

[puck-luck]

forced proximity with jack even though you guys are enemies… so you guys say 👀

lucky lift | jack hughes

warnings: elevator sex, enemies to FWB, secret pining on jack’s side, hj, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, teasing/general dirty talk (aka i just like writing dialogue) pairing: jack hughes x reader summary: the one when you hook up with your work enemy on a whim wc: 1468

“Don’t fucking look at me like that,” You hiss. “You know I don’t like this any more than you do.”

To top off a shitty day, in which you had woken up late, spilled coffee on the shirt that you had been waiting to wear all week, and tripped up the stairs in full view of everyone in the office, you were now stuck– nay, you were trapped, cornered, imprisoned– in the elevator with none other than Jack Hughes.

You and Jack had been working at this company for the same amount of time, both of you hired in the same week, trained by the same people, and working on the same projects. You hated each other. You supposed you hated Jack first, but it was only because he made everything so competitive. He claimed he couldn’t help it when your work bestie brought it up to him (much to your chagrin), “because he was an athlete when he was younger.”

In an ideal world, this “athlete” could pry open the doors of the elevator so you could make an escape. Instead, he’s staring at you with an amused smirk on his face while you do all the work.

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Jack scoffs. 

“Maybe I do hate it more than you,” You bite back. “You seem awfully content over there to watch me do all the work.”

“I called for help,” Jack reminds you. “They said two hours. To me. I don’t remember you offering to call.”

“I didn’t have service,” You say through gritted teeth. 

“Get a better provider,” Jack says in the same tone. 

“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?”

“I think you’re really easy to piss off.” Jack’s smile pulls at the sides of his lips in a way that’s almost endearing, but you also want to wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze.

“I think you–”

“I also think the stain on your shirt from your coffee has gotten worse with the sweat from all your efforts to escape,” Jack interrupts. “Maybe you should take it off.”

The initial surprise that came with his statement turns to anger at his arrogance. “Excuse me?” You exclaim, stalking over to him and whacking his arm. “You’re coming onto me? As if you couldn’t make this situation any worse?”

“We might as well have fun with it,” Jack says with a shrug, shying away from your violent slaps. 

“I don’t even like you,” You point out. “You don’t even like me.”

Jack reaches a hand up and cups your cheek, silencing you. “Does it matter?” 

The weight of his hand against your face and the pure honesty of his tone causes your stomach to turn. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought of him like that before, but it was rare. It was during the monthly meetings Jack led, when he had to wear more business professional clothing, and he always decided to roll up his sleeves post-meeting and lose the jacket. You usually caught him in the break room brewing his own coffee, focused and straight-faced like he was about to reenter the meeting rather than celebrate its end. 

“No,” You decide. 

You allow him to pull you in, pressing your lips together in a surprisingly gentle kiss. You never thought Jack was the kind to savor something, but here you were. He’s slow with his movements, his fingers trailing over your curves and ridges like he’s trying to map your body. 

“You’re going too slow,” You complain, palming the front of his dress pants. You fit your hand on his bulge, rubbing over it until he lets out a moan. “Let’s speed things up.”

“I want to enjoy this,” Jack mumbles and you can barely hear him.

“You will,” You tell him, unzipping his pants and reaching into his boxers. You circle your hand around his dick, pumping him from base to tip, using his precum to make the glide smoother. 

“No,” Jack groans and tilts his head back. “I want to enjoy this.”

You pause your movements. “What do you mean?”

“I–” Jack bucks his hips up into your hand, your grip loose around him while you wait for him to explain. “You’re just so pretty when you’re mad at me.”

“Oh,” You breathe out. 

“And you’re mad at me all the time,” Jack whines. He pushes you against the wall of the elevator, leaning in to leave kisses along your neck. He sucks at the underside of your jaw, leaving a cool circle of saliva when he trails his lips lower. “Wanted to fuck you for so long now, Y/N.”

He presses his hips into your body, your hand still trapped in his pants. You remove it as his hands cover the back of your thighs and he lifts you up, you immediately circling your legs around his waist. He uses one hand to push his pants down, his belt clinking against the floor as the fabric pools around his feet. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth and causing him to groan. Jack pulls your skirt up and moves your panties to the side, movements quick now that he admitted his secret to you.

He presses himself inside of you, feeding his cock into your tight, wet cunt. 

“Feels so good,” Jack whispers. “So tight, baby. So wet.”

“Fuck me, Jack,” You tell him, voice strong. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Gonna,” Jack agrees with a moan, rolling his hips sensually. 

Jack steps forward until he can hold you up against the wall and push one leg so your ankle rests on his shoulder. He turns and gives your ankle a kiss, then bows his head to watch himself enter you to a rhythm that only he knows. Jack moves like he’s drunk on the feeling of you, soft noises falling from his lips like he’s trying not to be too loud. You can almost feel the elevator shaking with his movements.

“Not gonna last,” Jack chokes out, clutching at your waist. 

“Gonna come in me?” You tease, nipping at Jack’s earlobe.

Jack lets out a high keen, his mouth falling open and his eyelids fluttering shut as your entrance flutters around him, causing him to come undone inside of you. His breaths come out as stuttered as his thrusts do, his come warm inside you and leaking out when he draws himself out of you. 

Jack keeps you pressed against the wall of the elevator, but lowers himself to his knees.

“Gonna clean you up,” Jack promises. Your thighs rest on his shoulders, your ankles crossed behind his back. His hands pull at your ass cheeks, kneading them. 

“J,” You whimper when Jack attaches his lips to your entrance. He moans against your hole, flicking his tongue against your hole like a dog drinking from a bowl of water. He nuzzles his face into your cunt and brings a hand around to rub your clit in quick circles.

“Y’look so good,” Jack praises, his eyes so big and blue from where they look up at you. “You gonna come? Gonna mix us together, give me something to really enjoy?”

“Oh,” You exclaim, your fingers lacing into Jack’s hair. Your hips buck against his face and he slips a finger into your hole, pushing it in and out of you and curling it as he laps at your clit. “Fuck, Jack, just like that.”

Miraculously, he listens to you and only intensifies his actions, pumping a second finger into you.

You choke on a wail as you come on his fingers, the climax causing your head to fall back against the wall of the elevator with force. Jack stifles a laugh, but continues to lick at your come (and his own) until you’re removing your hands from his hair and trying to get your feet back on solid ground.

“You know, I like you like this,” Jack teases, fixing your panties for you and moving your skirt back to its original position. He pulls his own pants up when he rises, tucking himself away and buckling his belt with his very talented fingers. “All fucked out.”

“If anything, I’m the one who fucked you,” You bite back. “You came first and you ate your own come out of me."

“Mmm, next time I’ll leave it inside of you,” Jack says with a short kiss to your neck, adjusting the collar of your blouse. His hand ghosts over your neck and he feels the way your breath hitches. “Maybe we should get to the office early one day and I’ll bend you over my desk. You’ll have to walk around all day, feeling my come drip out of you. You’ll be begging me to clean you up then.”

note: ugh office enemies is a trope that i need in my life. if i'm going to be a slave to the work force i am going to fuck my hot enemy jack hughes whenever i can!

#puck-luck's fics #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #nhl smut #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #andy writes anything🍄

[pomefioredove]

In my bones I know that Rook is the type of guy who loves to go exploring be it forest or man-made structures. With that in mind I have an idea for a fic:

MC!Reader & Rook Hunt making weekend dates out of exploring the unknown places on Sage Island. It's their little ritual that they take great joy in! From the restricted sections of Crowley's office to a small abandoned island off the coast they enjoy taking in sights meant for no-one else.

ROOK REQUEST!!! thank you I love him so muchhh... the fact that archeology becomes an interest of his is so adorable to me <3 rook baby let me take you out and tell you about the incan empire and dead languages and

summary: weekend dates with rook type of post: fic characters: rook additional info: romantic, established relationship, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, french warning, fluffy and cute <3

"One thousand words, one thousand, can you believe that?" you ask, twirling a perfectly-sharpened pencil between your fingers. It had yet to even graze the surface of the paper in your lap.

What a waste of wood.

You slump, leaning against the rough bark of an oak tree. A movement in the foliage overhead sends a deluge of leaves onto your lap, coloring the white of the empty paper with vibrant shades of green.

Rook emerges from the verdure above with a graceful plunk at your side.

"Five hundred each, chéri," he says, picking a leaf out of your hair and ignoring the ones on the notebook.

You tilt your head to the side, watching as he scales the tree again. "Yes, but I was under the impression we'd do it together,"

"Ah, a marvelous idea!" his voice calls out from overhead. "But that can wait for later, non? Come up and see this robin's nest I've uncovered!"

You chuckle. Even with the deadline looming nearer, you couldn't help but indulge him.

Crowley's words still rung fresh in your mind: "Five hundred words on the evil of trespassing. Each!"

Admittedly, seeing the man actually get angry was both amusing and unsettling. You supposed digging around the secret chamber behind his office was pushing it, but how could you resist Rook's charming smile when he said he'd found a trap door and wished to explore it together?

How were you supposed to know that passage would end up in Crowley's office, anyway?

"Mm?" Rook's head pokes out from the leaves again. "Are you coming, Trickster?"

You had begun to fill out that nickname quite nicely.

You set aside the pencil and paper (still untouched) in favor of scaling the lowest branches of the tree. You'd become quite the climber since meeting Rook.

"Ah, the way you so carelessly toss aside your obligations, as if freeing yourself from the shackles of the modern world!" Rook sings, offering a hand to help you onto the branch he's sat atop.

You can't help a smile as he guides you onto the thick part of the branch in front of him. "It was rather symbolic, wasn't it?"

"Chéri, if only I had the time, I would write a poem for every little thing you do," he sighs dreamily. "Come, miel, join me in being wild."

He cups your chin and guides your gaze to a curve where two branches meet, only an arm's-length away. Nestled in the heart of it is a small, delicate, cup-shaped nest, filled with baby blue eggs.

"Tr��s magnifique," he comments, his voice breathless and soft. "The miracle of life. A sign that spring has returned once more, putting Monsieur L'Hiver to rest."

"They are beautiful... will they hatch soon?"

"Ah, that depends on how you define "soon". Robins incubate for but two weeks," he says. "Soon for us, but half a lifetime for them..."

His ensuing sigh is soft and contented, almost distracting you from the feeling of his arms finding their way around your waist, and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Mm... I could stay here all day. Have you slept in a tree before, chéri?"

You've learned by now not to take such comments as jokes, although you're sure he already knows what the answer is.

You smile, your sweet tone tinged with the faintest hint of mischief. "No, not recently,"

"It has been a long time for me. Sometimes I fear I've become too domesticated... c'est bien I have you to bring out the wild animal in me again, hm?"

He chuckles to himself before promptly burying his face in the crook of your neck again, breathing you in.

You lean back into him, earning a little squeeze from his arms. Perhaps you could stay here all day, if not for...

"The essay..." you murmur.

Rook laughs again. "It can wait. I will gladly chance the ire of our headmage and my housewarden..." he clicks his tongue. "Taking risks for you is a delight I cannot help but indulge in."

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #rook hunt x reader #queued

[moonstruckme]

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

congrats on 5k, mae!! can i request lily with the academic rivals trope? please and thank you! 🤍

Thanks for requesting my love!

Lily Evans x fem!reader ♡ 608 words

“Now,” Professor Trelawney’s voice is low and grandiose, her hands gesturing seemingly aimlessly around the smoke emanating from her candlestick, “tell me, what do you see?” 

Your hand goes up, but Trelawney’s eyes go elsewhere. You look to your left, and Lily’s hand is also raised high. 

“Miss Evans?” 

Lily brushes a piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s rising in a spiral,” she says, “which symbolizes change and new beginnings.” 

Trelawney’s mouth flattens into a pitying line, and slender brows come down over Lily’s green eyes as your professor turns to you. “What do you see?” 

“It looks like there’s a shape in the smoke.” You squint a little, making a show of concentration. “I can’t quite make it out, but it looks like maybe…some sort of animal?” 

“Yes!” The older woman’s eyes light up. “Yes, it appears to be the crow! A bad omen.” You see Lily roll her eyes, and you pinch your lips shut to contain a smile. “Be cautious as you proceed through the week, children,” Trelawney says as you all start to grab your bags. “There are dreadful tidings on the wind!” 

“That is such bullocks,” Lily rants once you’re in the corridor, her bag slung over one shoulder. “How could you possibly see a shape in that mess? I didn’t see anything.” 

“Me neither,” you say smugly, grinning when she looks towards you, brows again descending over those fierce eyes of hers. “It’s Trelawney,” you laugh. “It’s not about what’s there, it’s about what she wants to be there. And she always wants shapes.” 

“My god.” Lily shakes her head. Her lips are pursed in that way they get when she’s trying not to smile. “You’re awful.” 

“Oh, come on.” You bump her hip with yours, the fabric of her skirt brushing your thigh. “You don’t take that class any more seriously than I do.” 

She rolls her eyes. “No, but I try to have some measure of—of integrity.” 

Your laugh comes out breathy with surprise. “Excuse me!” Lily smiles, and you take her by the arm, swinging the both of you around so her back is against the wall and your chest is a few inches from hers. “What are you trying to say about me, Evans?”

“Nothing,” she laughs, a faint blush rising to her freckled cheeks. “Only that some of us prefer to get top marks with our morals intact—” Your mouth falls open, incredulous, and she takes your face between her hands, kissing the tip of your nose with a cloying sweetness. “—and others—” She giggles as you chase her despite her hold on your face, nipping at her bottom lip. “—are more willing to compromise theirs.” 

You grin. “Generous of you to assume I had any to begin with.” 

“Oh, hush.” Lily kisses you one more time, soft and sweet, and uses the diversion of your weakening knees to slip from between you and the wall. “Come on, we’re going to be late for class.” 

You scoff but let her take your hand, pulling you down the now empty corridor. “I suppose I shouldn’t care, seeing as I’ve already compromised my morals.” 

“Mm, but I think you can be salvaged yet.” You know by your girlfriend’s grin what she’s going to say, and your nose wrinkles in anticipation. “I’m going to get higher marks than you anyway, love. There’s no need for these underhanded tactics.” 

Her smile widens when you narrow your eyes at her, squeezing her fingers between yours in challenge. “Oh, you’d like it if I gave up, wouldn’t you? Sorry, no luck this time. I’m going to beat your ass fair in square.” 

#mae's 5k #lily evans #lily evans x you #lily evans x reader #lily evans x fem!reader #lily evans x y/n #lily evans x self insert #lily evans fanfiction #lily evans fanfic #lily evans fic #lily evans fluff #academic rivals to lovers #lily evans imagine #lily evans scenario #lily evans drabble #lily evans blurb #lily evans one shot #lily evans oneshot #marauders girls #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #marauders era #hp marauders #marauders valkyries

[screamingdollxd]

Jeff the Killer x Prophet! Reader

Just to explain this little bit, i based this off of a story i have. Basically you, dear reader, receive visions, but must be unconscious to see them. Meaning that at random, you’ll fall unconscious while you see the vision, and well, when you wake up varies, and it’s a total mystery.

Sorry this is so short btw!! I didn’t have time to read over it either, but i’ll prolly rewrite it later when i get the time :D!!

Enjoy!! ^_< -★

Story info

Sfw

Gender Neutral reader

CW: fainting, faint religious hints (the whole prophet thing), mentions of death

I DO TAKE REQUESTS, ANY TYPE, JUST KEEP IN MIND I REFUSE TO WRITE CONTENT WITH BEN OR ANY OTHER CHARACTER WHO DIED A MINOR/CANNOT AGE. I’LL GET TO THE REQUESTS AS SOON AS I CAN BUT I HAVE A VERY BUSY SCHEDULE. DONT BE SHY!! <3!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Since you met him, he’d grown accustomed to the nights when you’d stay wide awake, rocking back and forth to fruitlessly soothe the anxious waves drowning your lungs, causing your mind to grow fuzzy and your heart to beat quicker than lightning.

But he would never grow used to the way you would simply grow completely still at random intervals throughout the week, only for your eyes to roll back into your head while your body grew limp, slumping against whatever furniture you were using or even crashing to the floor.

The first time it happened? He laughed it off at first. You were a bit of a trickster, and often pulled some worrisome pranks on everyone, including him.

He was just so used to you playing around, that for a while he thought nothing of it. In fact, when it happened in front of him for the first time and you crashed down to the kitchen floor, he left you there, assuming you’d be bouncing back up within minutes and back to annoy the others.

Then minutes turned to hours

And hours turned to a full day

When he came back downstairs the next evening, only to find you lying against the cold floor, unconscious right where you fell the day prior, he became far more anxious. He lost so much already. Sure, he didn’t exactly love your company at all times, but you were probably one of the few people he felt he could be truly himself with, even with him being as unhinged and expressive as he was. He’d messed up the first time, he wasn’t going to let himself mess things up again.

Over his shoulder you went, and up to the infirmary you were carried. The way your body seemed frozen and ice cold gave him a nauseous feeling in the bottom of his throat, you weren’t supposed to be that cold— but you were laying on the cold, tiled floors of the manor for hours and hours on end.

Once you reached the infirmary he all but busted down the door, placing you on one of the exam tables while Ann and Jack fussed in the background before realizing it was useless and that you needed to be treated.

Jeff couldn’t explain it well, he tried but all he could inform them of was that you fell to the floor last night, that he thought you were joking since you always pull some questionable pranks on others residents, and that he simply went back upstairs to his room believed you’d be up and bothering someone else in a little bit.

He became impatient as the two doctors scanned you over for major injuries, but left you asleep on the table. This frustrated him further, nobody was giving him the answers he obviously deserved.

His eyes seemed to widen a little bit (you would think it wasn’t possible) to hear that this was a normal occurrence for you. That you simply got these visions out of nowhere, but that your body would be forced unconscious until you’d seen the entirety of the vision sent for you. A prophet of sorts. Hence why you were taken in as a proxy, you didn’t have as much physical strength as the others, but what you didn’t have, you made up for it by providing valuable insight into the future.

Jeff looked back to your unconscious figure and huffed slightly, feeling a little shaky.

He thought you died, if he were to be honest

Without another word, he left the infirmary and walked back down the hall to go back to his room.

He started to entertain the idea of having Smile look after you when nobody else was nearby.

Just because it’d be a pain if one of their most valuable assets died and nobody stopped it

He opened his door and closed it roughly, groaning and lying down on his bed, the old frame squeaking quite a bit.

Just because it’d be inconvenient to have to dig a grave and have a funeral.

He pulled the blankets over his eyes and attempted to get a bit of sleep

Just because he didn’t want to admit he’d be hurt if you weren’t around anymore.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x you #creepypasta fanfic #writing #my writing #requests #reqs open #fanfic #fluff? #fluff #angst? #light angst #angst #jeffery woods #x male reader #x female reader #gender neutral reader #nonbinary reader

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day Five: Doing Each Other's Makeup

chose one of the bonus prompts for today, mainly bc I had an image in my head I needed to write lol.

Cirrus spends some quality time with Rain and lets him do her makeup.

Mushy May is put together by the lovely @forlorn-crows, and the divider was made by the very kind @ghuleh-recs

Cirrus isn't exactly sure what to expect when Rain corrals her into his room one afternoon, a glint in his eye that usually means the water ghoul's up to no good. He gestures towards his bed, all of his shark plushies suspiciously pushed aside.

"Lemme do your makeup, breeze?" he asks. "'M bored."

She laughs, wrapping her hand around Rain's wrist and pulling him a little closer. Now that there's only a few feet between them, she notices how shimmery silver his eyelids are, the way his eyes are lined with a deep black, the dusky purple tint of his lips. "Sure, guppy. You want me on the bed?"

He nods, turning to his bathroom counter, collecting a variety of things in his arms, and Cirrus hops up onto Rain's bed, reclining against the pillows as he comes back.

Her eyes go wide as Rain hops up onto the bed after her, swinging one long leg over her body, settling his weight between his knees and her hips. He chuckles at her expression, leaning down to nose at her temple. "I could go bug Dewey if you don't want to do this. He always looks pretty when I get to doll him up."

Cirrus smirks at the memory that jumps into her mind, shakes her head. "I know you'd like to see Dew all painted up, but I'm absolutely down. I don't let you do this often enough."

He smiles, noses at her temple again, straightening as he sorts through the cosmetics in his hands. "Alright. Eyes shut."

"Aye, aye, captain," Cirrus says, shutting her eyes as she lets Rain work. The end of a brush, soft and fluffy, works over one eyelid. He spreads something over it that feels almost dusty, chalky. She wonders what color he's chosen.

Cirrus hears the tap of the brush against the edge of the eyeshadow palette Rain's holding before the brush returns, making gentle circles in the crease of her eyelid. "Anything in particular bring this on?" she asks.

Rain doesn't answer for a moment, focused on blending out whatever color he's just applied. "Spur of the moment, I suppose."

"Nothing wrong with that," she hums as she hears Rain selecting another brush. This time the eyeshadow almost feels gritty against her skin. Something shimmery or glitter, then. She really hopes it's not glitter, because she'll be finding little flecks on her skin for weeks after this.

He keeps humming, something that trails into one of the slower sections of Helvetesfönster. Rain grabs another brush, this one finer tipped, and drags it along the edge of each eyelid, a single smooth stroke. "Alright, you can open your eyes," he says.

Cirrus blinks rapidly, staring up at Rain as the brush gets closer to her now open eye. She squirms a little underneath him.

"Lay still," Rain says, brow furrowed as he focuses, a fine-tipped brush in one hand, and a small glass container in another. "I really don't want to get this in your eye."

Cirrus barks a laugh as she tries to stay still. Her long, navy hair spools behind her on the pillow, staring up at the water ghoul. "Have you considered not putting it in my eye?"

"It's eyeliner, breeze, it goes in your lashline," Rain says, humming as he rests some of his weight on her hips. "I can skip it, if it'll make you more comfortable."

"I can suck it up, I'm a ghoul, I've done worse," Cirrus jokes. She takes a breath, hands resting over her ribs. Rain shifts the brush to his other hand, pushing a few black waves back behind his finned ear.

"Alright," Rain says softly. "I'm serious though, lay still. Don't blink"

Cirrus settles, holding as still as she can as Rain drags the tip of the brush against her lower lash line. The product is waxy and feels foreign, and she fights every urge she has to blink. Rain hums as he works, and Cirrus likes seeing him like this. It's not often she gets to see his focused expression up close. Normally it's just from her platform, watching down as he plays. This is nice.

She tells him as much, and Rain pulls the brush away before cackling. "You were just complaining about the eyeliner, breeze," he laughs. Cirrus can't help but laugh along. She reaches up and tucks an escaped strand of hair behind his ear.

"You know I like doing this with you, right?" she hums. "Get to spend some time gettin' pampered by my guppy."

Rain flushes and he smiles, crinkling his nose. "Love you, breeze."

"You too, gup. Can't wait to see what you made of me."

He hums, that focused expression slipping back onto his face, and gets back to work. He carefully applies lipstick, and Cirrus can't quite catch the color of the tube at this angle, but she presses her lips together when he asks. Rain rears back, taking in his work.

"How'd it turn out?" she asks, seeing the gears starting to turn full speed in Rain's head.

"You wanna see?" Rain sticks out a hand, and Cirrus takes it, letting the water ghoul pull her upright. He takes her by the shoulders, gently turning her to face the mirror over his dresser.

Rain's good at this, Cirrus knows this. It's still a surprise when she sees herself, what he's done. There's copper on her eyes, shimmery and catching the light, blended out from the corner of her eye, lined with a dark, dark blue that's almost black. It compliments her hair, and she turns just to admire the way the light makes it shine. Her lips are a dark red, with some sort of shine that almost looks gold.

"It's very pretty, guppy," She says, smiling wide, fangs bright white against the red. She cranes her head back to press a kiss to his cheek, and laughs when he blushes so bright she can barely see the lipstick print on his skin.

#did i finish this at 2 am last night #perhaps lmao #and yes this was inspired by that one picture of the girl doing the other girls makeup lmao #anyways rain and cirrus are best friends and i will die on that hill lol #(if you cant tell i'm tagging this to put in the queue for tomorrow morning it is still very late lol) #dot's writing #mushy may 2024 #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #cirrus ghoulette #rain ghoul

[luniidae]

~ Stubborn ~

Chapter X

Note: Damn, it's been an eternity since the last chapter and I'm sorry for that. The last few months have been exhausting and it was hard for me to write, so... I don't know if I'm satisfied or not but hey, I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless 🖤

____________________________________

Raphael accepted to teach Luvia how to use her power, on one condition only: since the blood magic practice required a lot of energy, she would have to eat properly and daily again. Because despite her fancy appearance, Luvia has been weakened by all those days spent in her bedroom, barely eating anything. Her eyes weren't as shiny as usual, just like her skin.

Luvia used to be pale, but this time, she looked sick. Sick and exhausted. But she was determined to make everything she could to prove him she was strong enough to endure this new step in her magical education. She wanted to be the only owner of her body again, to be something, someone.

"What are they doing here ?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

About a week later, Luvia seemed to be in a better shape. Her face had regained color and the dark circles under her eyes had completly disappeared, almost as if nothing wrong ever happened. She looked ready.

One day, Raphael and her headed to the training room where the young woman used to practice magic with Korilla, the Cambion had brought five debtors with him.

"As indicated by its name, blood magic requires blood, and you'll make a use of theirs", he made a gesture to designate the miserable beings who followed him.

"But I can use mine", she replied with a hint of challenge in her eyes. Raphael chuckled.

"Oh no, you can't. Not yet. Don't be so eager ... You have to start from the beginning if you want to be as efficient as possible"

Luvia looked a bit annoyed by his response, but she couldn't really protest.

"One more thing before we begin though"

Raphael headed to the young woman

"Here, you'd need these", he handed her a pack of rings which were claw shaped,

"Your supposed claws are too short, so I had these made to fill this little... Inconvenience", he added almost coldly while he was taking one of her hands to put the rings at the end of her fingers.

Luvia's sudden transformation had a few side effects on her, including her nails which will never become claws. She felt a bit hurt by the way he talked about it, as if the fact that she would never be what she was supposed to be wasn't that important. His tone seemed almost reproving and it hurt her. It was his fault if she was in this state, his fault if her "claws" wasn't enough. She wanted to tell him but she remained calm.

"Be careful, they're very sharp", he warned her.

"Say that to them..." She answered with a bold look, giving a nod towards the debtors behind him.

"Do not play this game with me, Luvia ...", Raphael stared at her with a calm yet menacing look, "Now, let's get started"

He grabbed one of the debtors - an elf - and brought her before Luvia who suddenly looked a bit confused.

"... Is there anything wrong?", he asked.

The young woman hesitated for a second, then she finally spoke

"Have I ... To kill them ?"

"Well, it is up to you, but no, you don't have to"

"How am I supposed to do then?"

Raphael raised an eyebrow and sighed.

"Be creative, Luvia. Feel free to scrape them, cut them, stab them, slice their throat, disembowel them even if you want. But remember this: you only need blood, not a slaughter"

The Dracanist had never hurt anyone before, beside her Lackey, but that was different... It was to protect herself.

The miserable woman sounded lost, she weren't really looking at Luvia, as if she couldn't see her.

"They're all doomed, Luvia. They're nothing but an empty shell, so do not hesitate. You won't have this luxury when you'll face more.... "Conscious" creatures", the devil said, stopping the track of her thoughts. Raphael was standing a few meters away, his arms crossed on his chest. 

Luvia took a step forward, grabbing the debtor's wrist delicately, making her shiver 

"Now, make it bleed"

His tone was clear. This was not a suggestion, but a command.

Slowly, gently even, Luvia made her index run along the woman's wrist. She stopped for a few seconds as she saw their flesh being cut as much easy as a piece of paper. Those claws were really sharp...

A scarlet line appeared on their pale flesh, and a few drops of blood fell on the floor, the uncomfortable drip resonating in the silence of the room. Luvia gulped as she couldn't tell how she was feeling at this very moment. It was a mix of disgust and fascination.

Her eyes began to glow with a scarlet sparkle while wisps of blood swirled around her head.. Her power was now awoken.

"What am I supposed to do now ?" She asked again, looking at Raphael.

"You're not controlling anything right now, you need to focus on a specific intention. This a mind game but it is not that different from your usual use of magic"

He took a few steps forward and reached her, looking down at the debtor's arms.

Luvia could feel the familiar sensation of the power within her, but it felt slightly different. She could feel her veins shivering of excitement and her blood boil, it wasn't unpleasant at all. It was warm and comforting, like a discreet yet friendly embrace. The swirls of blood started to crackle and glow as the Dracanist tried to concentrate. But she couldn't do anything with such a poor amount of blood. She needed more... She looked up at the elf, her eyes staring at everywhere and anywhere at the same time. Luvia couldn't help but feel sorry for her. They never have done anything to her and she didn't want to hurt them either but she needed to.

"Go on", the devil said, "You won't make any progress if you're so hesitating, unless..."

He paused for a second, "... Unless that is too much for your sensitive soul", he smirked, his chin resting on one of his fists.

She glared at him. He knew which button to press to make her react, he knew how strong her spirit of contradiction was and how she could be stubborn. And it worked.

However, she also noticed that Raphael used to keep his human form whenever they met recently. It was very unusual since he didn't need to hide his true form from anyone here. But she didn't dare to ask him why... Anyways, she wanted to show him he was wrong about her, and she took the debtor's other wrist firmly, having no idea that she was doing exactly what he expected from her.

Luvia frowned, hit right in her self-esteem. After everything she went through, after the horns, after Haarlep... Being called "sensitive" sounded like an insult in Raphael's mouth. She was mad at him for what he had done, for letting what happened to her happen. But she was even more mad at herself, because despite all of this, she was enjoying the moment and his presence. She has always liked spending time with him, but in those particular circumstances, she felt really dumb...

She took a deep breath, her gaze whispering a silent apology to the poor creature in front of her. She cut the elf's flesh again, confidently and stronger this time, and the crimson liquid flowed out her parted skin.

The bloody wirls became more intense and she could feel the power withing her increase. Luvia started playing with those bloody ribbons, making them dance around her hands and her fingers. She made them spark, crackle, flying away. She kept playing with these for several long minutes, forgetting about her victim, about Raphael, about everything. All this energy, this power, around her, this blood, it felt like.... Home. Like a faraway heritage she never knew yet hidden deep inside, waiting to be revealed.... And used.

Although Luvia thought only a few minutes had passed, her trance had actually lasted a little longer. After a moment, the debtor suddenly collapsed on the floor in a loud sound. Back to her, the Dracanist stepped back in astonishment.

"What happened to her ?!" Luvia exclaimed.

"Out of resources already.... Fine, next one", the Cambion said as he was turning on his heels, about to reach another guineapig 

"Why, what ? What do you mean ?"

Raphael raised an eyebrow.

"You know what happened, we studied it. Do not tell me you forgot everything already..."

"But I... I didn't imagine it would look like this", she admitted.

The debtor was laying down on the floor, completely dry and paler than ever, almost grey or blue. The elf seemed like "absorbed" from the inside and her eyes were nothing but dark holes now. The vision was disturbing since she now looked like an old corpse with an expression of terror. 

"Did I... Kill her ?", she asked, an uncertain echoe in her voice.

"You used her, that is different", he brought her a dwarf this time, he looked more agitated than the previous subject... 

"And you need another one. He's shorter but he's a tough one", he taped his shoulder and took a step back.

As if she had already forgotten about the poor elf, Luvia was surprised to feel more comfortable despite the troubled look of the new debtor. She almost..... Liked that ? She tried to shake off this feeling but she couldn't ignore this sense of satisfaction than was running through her body, to see the fear in their eyes, the apprehension of an inevitable moment... She felt more confident, but the young woman was still hesitating though.

"You want to try something else, don't you?", Raphael asked with a smirk, perfectly knowing the answer.

Luvia looked back at him, a hint of anticipation in her eyes. The sight and the smell of blood were intoxicating, almost natural to her, she wanted more of it and soon, the urge to take it would be stronger than the will to spare them.

”You know...", the devil started,"I said there was no need for a slaughter because I wasn't disposed to send anyone to clean the mess after. But i wouldn’t mind a little bloody show...”, he said nonchalantly 

"I...I don't know...", She said.

"Why come on, Luvia. We both know it is a matter of time before you finally accept this part of yourself"

The young woman raised an eyebrow.

"What do you know about myself anyway?" 

Raphael chuckled.

"Oh dear, you are like an open book. You are not very good at hiding your emotions, and looking into those crimson eyes of yours are enough to know that you're denying the truth, your thirst for blood. You are just too afraid to admit it.... Let me help you"

The Cambion snapped his fingers and the dwarf was now hanging up by his feet, screaming in panic like a pig. 

Luvia frowned since the sound of the debtor was really annoying.

The dwarf was gesticulating in all directions in a vain attempt to free himself. Luvia wondered if he was aware of what was happening and what was going to happen to him. She could almost have felt compassion if seeing him in this state had not awakened something else in her: a primal, voracious instinct, a hunter's instinct that was just waiting to blossom.

Killing prey that didn't flee or resist wasn't stimulating. That had been the case with the elf. Static, submissive, it didn't take much effort or pleasure to settle her score. On the other hand, a prey fighting for its life... This is a very interesting spectacle. Luvia was doing her best not to let this new sensation overwhelm her, but deep down she wanted to see him run, flee from her, hoping to escape her.

She imagined catching up with him and pouncing on him like a displacer beast. She would have pierced his flesh, would have marked him alive, taken his vital essence to increase her power... Luvia shook her head to clear her thoughts.

"Come on, it's never good to repress your true nature", said Raphael playfully, "Or are you really not ready for this training", he added with a hint of challenge.

It's true that Luvia wasn't supposed to start this early. After all, despite her grown up appearance, she was barely 15 years old. Perhaps she should have waited before confronting herself with the tumults of her deep nature. But Luvia didn't care...

Everything always went too fast in her life anyway, today wouldn't be an exception. She glared at Raphael, and with a violent slash of her claws, slit the throat of the poor dwarf who began to bleed out in grotesque suffocation, his eyes bulging, gesticulating even more. Once again, the reddish liquid began to glow upon contact with Luvia, enveloping her in a scarlet swirl... The more she wielded this power of hers, the more her brain felt "anesthetized", making her incapable of feeling the slightest scruple or feeling of empathy towards the poor wretches she mutilated. She almost ended up getting a taste for it.

However, despite her efforts, she was unable to maintain the flow of her magical energy. Once her victim ran out of blood and died, the scarlet swirls would disappear. She concentrated harder, cutting into the pulpits in various ways, in various places, in the hope that it would make a difference. In vain. And soon, the ground was littered with corpses bathing in their own blood.

“That will be enough for today, Luvia” Raphael told her, slowly approaching her and struggling to avoid the pools of blood.

“No, I can do it!” retorted the young woman in a determined but slightly panicked tone. If there was one thing that Luvia had trouble dealing with, especially at her young age, it was frustration, and she couldn't stand the idea of ​​being interrupted in her progress.

“I said, that’s enough”, insisted the Cambion firmly, slightly annoyed to see her once again challenging his authority.

"But I was almost there! I only need a few more. Two or three at most! It's not as if the corridors were empty of them!", she replied in an almost authoritarian and flippant tone.

Raphael didn't know what to answer at the moment, taken aback by the bitterness of her words. His eyes widened for a brief moment then seemed to soften. The subject had never been broached until now... To tell the truth, he had never intended to do so, which did not seem to be the case for Luvia who was struggling more and more to keep her calm.

"It would be so easy, huh?", she continued in a sarcastic tone, "To just... Do it again and... And... Leave me...."

Her voice cracked and her fists clenched so tightly that her hands were quickly covered in her own blood. Blood which crackled only very faintly. She was doing everything possible not to let her emotions carry her away, but her breathing quickened and keeping her teary eyes wide open didn't stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks without the slightest effort. Luvia couldn't finish her sentence.

It was too painful for her, but there seemed to be something else. With what she had endured recently, and added to that a first approach to blood magic that was intense to say the least, it was logical that the young Dracanist was somewhat "disturbed", and her vision became blurred.

Her face, which had previously displayed an expression of anger and pain, was suddenly very expressionless, almost lifeless, with a hint of worry. Her eyes finally rolled back as the muscles in her legs gave out. Raphael barely had time to catch her before she hit the ground.

The Devil had acted without thinking, which surprised him. Ordinarily, he probably wouldn't have lifted a finger and let her fall on the floor. He carried her out of the room and ordered other debtors to clean up the place while he took her back to his room, just like he did a few weeks ago, when he took her from the Boudoir. She seemed so peaceful, and yet there was a real storm brewing beneath the surface. The next few months, maybe even the next few years, would not be easy for her...

Luvia woke up in her room two or three hours later, her vision blurry and her head heavy, trying to put her mind in order. She briefly remembered the last events, her training with Raphael and her inability to control her power. She felt ridiculous, useless, she wanted to succeed on the first try, but she was far too ambitious... Or...

She noticed a plate next to her bed, full of fruits and pastries...

"For my stubborn little mouse"

The note said.

........ Yes, stubborn.....

To be continued...

BONUS:

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fantasy #video games #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #bg3 oc #bg3 raphael #bg3 fanart #bg3 house of hope #bg3 fanfiction

[canisalbus]

just a quick ask to tell u it makes me super happy seeing the detail u go into when pointing out stuff u like about other people's art of ur ocs :3 it's so rare to see but it's so so motivating!! <3

Thank you! I don't take any interest for my art for granted, and if someone goes through the trouble of drawing my characters for me, I feel like trying to write a proper response is the least I can do. For a visually oriented person, receiving gift/fan art is a huge deal, it means someone considered my goobers worth their time and effort, they've probably been thinking about them more than a little and found them inspiring in a way or another, and I find that terribly flattering. It's extremely fun and interesting to see other people's takes on them. And I've drawn stuff for people as well, I know how nice and rewarding it feels to receive a response that is longer than a word or two. Positive comments like that can linger in people's minds for a long time, at least for me they do.

#this comes with a big serious disadvantage though #it often takes me a long time to write that response #my social batteries are extremely small and a lot of the time by the time I go online I feel too worn out to engage with people properly #I'm autistic anxious and severely depressed my spoons are in short supply at the best of times #I've always had really hard time putting my thoughts into words in a way that I find satisfactory #so I keep putting off reblogging gift art #because most of the time my brain is too smushed to formulate that meaningful comment I want to give #maybe that sounds dumb and fake #but this is something I've struggled with for years and I feel extremely guilty for keeping people waiting like that #often weeks sometimes months even #and potentially making them feel underappreciated and unnoticed #I'm also genuinely very scatterbrained and unorganized and I miss and forget things I'm supposed to do all the time #not to mention that I tend to have trouble keeping track of my mentions and dms and asks I'm only one person #so if you've ever drawn something for me and I didn't/haven't responded yet #please know it's not personal it's entirely my fault I'm kind of a mess #and chances are I'm still very much attempting to get back to you #feel free to remind me if you feel like I might have not noticed your post I really don't mind at all it often helps me a lot #and please if you can don't delete the post even if it seems like I didn't see it #because again sometimes it takes me a long time to respond #thank you to everyone who has stayed endlessly patient with me though I appreciate it #sorry this spiraled into a list of apologies and excuses this is actually something that bothers me a lot #because it's largely a mental health thing but easily comes off as ungratefulness #I'm trying to work on that #answered #anonymous

[jokeringcutio]

Snippet 18+ content underneath the cut. You've been warned:

“Excuse me, but what is going on?” you asked, eyes wide in disbelief. What did they want from you?

But then Arthur flipped the covers open, the blanket aside, to reveal that he was wearing a shirt with nothing underneath. Naked flesh, bare thighs. A proud and leaking shaft protruded out of a bush of greying dark hair. His cock, you thought alarmed.

“Will you help me willingly?” he then asked, voice smooth and gentle, his eyes finally upon you.

~ I have yet to find the plot / and a title. It'll come. Like the reader and Arthur come in nearly all four chapters now. It is insane. Like:

#send in kink wishes for this fic I might write them into it #Breeding kink fic because spring is upon us #Arthur harrow x reader #moon knight fandom #ethan hawke lovers #Loads of smut #Ammit is involved don't worry #You get 2 for the price of one #All the nurses are in on it #I actually start to like those ladiessss #Lots of mundane moments as well #Starts out strangers to friends to lovers I suppose #noncon to dubcon to consensual #Female Reader absolutely hungers for this man #It only takes her 3 or 4 weeks to be all wet for this man #proceeds from painful sex to fluff #But I can add things while I am still writing so if you think you might like

[zodiacsea]

ANOTHER coworker i love is leaving AND i have a bunch of shit i need to get finished at work before i go to vegas next week and not enough time to do it AND the zipper on my favorite jeans broke AND i woke up half an hour late this morning i actually want to go home and curl up in a ball forever. thanks

#漫言 #i want to be at home and i want to be playing video games and/or writing transgender vampire smut. is that so much to ask. #i have so much to do this weekend too tho. i need to pack for vegas and i need to shop for my family bc this is my last weekend at home unti #new years lol #and i prob need to go thrifting so i have things to wear in vegas in the first placd #a friend was supposed to be visiting this week but wasn’t able to last minute and i’m upset abt that #and like. this fucking thing i have to do at work i’ve only done one other time and it made me want to tear my hair out #on top of the other thing making me want to tear my hair out #and ramza isn’t coming with me to az for christmas AGAIN and that’s not its fault it’s bc of work but #i’m still upset abt that too. idk. i want to go home and take a fucking nap.

[goldensunset]

one of my professors is really based… we were like ‘so is the final project still due friday’ and she was like ‘…in theory. the only reason i’ve put it down as being due so early is because we’re technically not allowed to make things due in the last week of class because we’re supposed to be encouraging you all to study for finals. but you see, i am well within my right to give extensions ;-)’ let’s go sisterrrrrr

#1. ​i have never heard of that rule 2. i have lots of stuff due finals week 3. i might straight up have something due next week anyway #4. i doubt the administration is really going to check professors’ syllabi #so i personally don’t see the need for her to worry about that but like #how funny that she’s so open about being willing to bend that rule #she’s like i really only need it by finals although you’d be better off getting it done earlier so you can get feedback #but also like depending on the type of project we do not all of us even have to take the written final #like i’m just gonna do a paper so i don’t think she’ll make me do another writing project #also she’s like ‘ok some of you turned in this one assignment (that she already was incredibly lax with the due date for) #but you didn’t really meet the actual criteria of the assignment or you failed to turn it in entirely #but you can still turn it in now if you want or you can just make up for it by doing a really good job in that area of your final project #and i’ll give you a grade on that assignment anyway bc it’s really supposed to be a part of the larger final project anyway’ #like that is how chill and based she is with this #peach rambles #she’s a strict grader but like. it’s all totally fair criticism #she wants a demonstration of knowledge and good writing from us more than anything. more than being on time #so like i gotta lock in on this paper but it’s nice to know it’s going to someone fair who cares

[im2tired4usernames]

They stole any possible joy of motherhood I could have possibly wanted they stole my entire childhood they stole my teenage years my twenties and they continue to steal my future they won't be happy untill they've taken my whole life

#i hope your in fuckin hell you ugly cultist bitch i hope your getting what you deserve dad i hope karma hits you #i hope all your children grow up to hate you #quiverfull parents are monsters and they all deserve a place in hell #i hope my next life is that is a thing i get freedom and respect in my life #i hope they get a say in their life snd are well loved well rested and happy #im tired of being alive im so fuckin tired of my life #i cant die because there's wo many people who depend on me but fuck life sucks and it really is 100 because of my parents #i wish my future was actually reachable #i wish people would stop using me #i love my siblings i love spending time and caring for them #but i look at all my other siblings and my dad who fits in dates multiple times a week #who get jobs that pay that they enjoy they get hobbies they are responsible for themselves and only themselves they are starting families #they're getting to experience what it's like to be allowed to be a teen a 20 something a fuckin human person they go to concerts they sleep #when theyre tired they use their money for their own bills and wants and needs they get to go do things with they're partners as often as #they'd like to they get to EXPERIENCE LIFE WHILE I TAKE ON ALL THE RESPONSIBILITY #i want to be able to move in with my partner go in dates do things with friends get married write books draw get a job #i want to grow and change #they get to experience young adult life i get the adult responsibility but not the life experience or world knowledge or wisdom #I'm supposed to be the friendless sexless constant caretaker whos hobbies are dishes and vacuuming #that being said i cant make a future if no one is willing to make a move i cant be the only person trying to grow up #this includes my partner my siblings my dad they all need to make steps for our goals or we'll be stuck in a stagnant bullshit of 'someday' #constantly daydreamin about a future that'll never come i need to start making steps for it and i need other people to start making steps to #gwt ready to start growing up I'm not goin to let people keep holding me back forever my life is goin to fucking change or I'm goin to die

[myname-isnia]

Idk why I thought the new year would suddenly bring immense change to me as a person, it was such a childish belief, I can’t believe I let myself fall for it. The years go by but I remain the messed up anxious wreck who starts crying the second she’s left alone with her thoughts. The new year won’t change anything, nothing will

#just look at me #I could very possibly graduate from school in half a year and I still don’t know what I want to do with my life #I can’t take the slightest bit of criticism or else I’ll feel like shit for a week #I need to be staring at a screen at all hours of the day because if I don’t distract myself I will break down #I’m so obsessed with pleasing people that when I can’t fulfill the simplest of requests I want to die #indulging in hobbies. things that are supposed to be enjoyable. feels like hell for me #through all my years of creating there is only one piece I can honestly say I like and am proud of #and I haven’t even touched writing since because I’m scared of not being able to reach that high again #art comes a little easier but I’m only capable of one or two pieces a month #I don’t have anyone irl whom I trust. I’m so lonely that I literally have imaginary friends. at 17 #and I still haven’t figured out my gender or what pronouns I prefer. I don’t even like the name I picked for myself #I could go on forever #I don’t know how anyone puts up with me. I know I wouldn’t if I had the choice #I keep going on and on about how I want to get better. I don’t want to be so miserable all the time #but I just don’t know how #I try to be kinder with myself and I’ve been pretty successful at it but.. it doesn’t help #I can be soft and gentle all I want. it won’t make everything else go away #so there’s nothing left for me to do but cry all alone in my apartment at 2 a.m #I guess

[savrenim]

Deeply Upset at my car for Deciding To Have Problems Again when my budget is so tight

#my tires have been totally fine for YEARS #then last week I needed to replace one bc there was a HUGE FUCKING STAPLE IN IT #and now this week I am probably going to need to replace another bc it alone appears to be ancient and have a crack #hate that my choices once more are 'dip into my emergency funds' #or 'spend the time I was supposed to be spending on prepping for the move and my new job taking tutoring gigs' #like #AAAAAAAARGH #on the one hand I can make this work that's what emergency savings are for #on the other hand it Really Fucking Sucks #there were so many personal things that I wanted to do! #like actually get back to some of my writing! #and instead if I don't want to dip into savings for this I am going to have to give up my only chunk of free time this summer

[storybook-souls]

have spent all weekend holed up in a cabin working on my novel and while it’s been very creatively fulfilling i’m left feeling very very [emotion] about the whole thing overall

#on the one hand every time i spend time writing it's so validating to get to go. 'oh i DO love this. i really really do.' #'i haven't just tricked myself into thinking i like doing this i really do feel like this is the thing i could do Forever' #but there IS a. 'hey am i actually any GOOD at this????' 'is it supposed to be easier than this? feel less like pulling teeth?' #'should the characters feel more real by now? am i as funny as i think i am? do i have the courage to take the swings i need to? #do i really control the plot as well as i need to? are my ideas really even anything at all?' #and then the third thing is. 'jesus christ it's really hard to write a novel when you have a full time job.' #especially when you're also running 4 dnd games and actually working 45ish hours a week and have to #maintain your own apartment and life and try to have some sliver of a social life and have family obligations #and are trying to get more sleep and have recently gotten back into reading books-- #i got a lot done!!!! but not as much as i maybe HOPED to #this draft is like. not quite halfway done and i STILL don't know exactly what i'm doing with some of the #later chapters and while i think this draft is BETTER than draft 1 (obviously) it still like. needs a lot of work #and i'm so Tired....i feel GOOD but i'm so Tired and i have to go back to WORK on tuesday.... #i. :( i know these things take time and that's okay i can be okay with it but it's just. really daunting to look down that road #and to know that i could only get as far as i did bc i set aside two whole days for it and WHEN am i gonna get that again #instead i'm just gonna have to go back to fitting it in around all the everything else which is. sigh #but i can do it! i literally can and i'm going to. #and i'm very glad i had this weekend it DID do the main thing i needed it to which is that it made me figure out #HOW to do a proper second draft. so now i can keep going #fcm #my writing