#random drabble!

[silent-stories]

Eddie lives with the fear but also with the certainty that sooner or later you will decide to leave him.

He knows that one day you'll start to see him the way everyone else sees him, that you'll realize that you were wrong about him, that in the end, he really was a loser impossible to love.

It's what almost every important person in his life did, and when he realized that, after so many times, maybe he was the problem, he lost hope of finding someone who wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

Precisely for this reason every moment, every small action, every detail is so important to him and scares him at the same time.

Because he knows that one day you won't be there next to him in the morning to gently move the curls from his face and cook pancakes making a mess in the trailer kitchen.

He knows that you will stop waiting for him in the school hallway between lessons for a kiss and you will no longer be in his room every afternoon with a cigarette between your lips sitting on the floor in front of him, holding the guitar in his hands.

He knows you won't be at the Hideout to see his band play anymore and he won't be able to make those stupid jokes about groupies and what you guys will do in the backstage anymore. He knows you won't be there to hold his hand when he wants to bring his mother flowers and the cemetery will seem even more depressing without you by his side.

He knows he'll miss falling asleep reading a book while you lie with your head on his chest and waking up with his arms around your body, holding you close. He knows you will no longer play with his fingers during that boring math class, slipping rings off his fingers and trying them on yours every time.

He knows that one day the trailer will seem so empty without your laughter to fill the silence.

"Can I tell you something?" You ask sitting cross-legged on his bed, turning a small bottle of freshly applied black nail polish on Eddie's nails in your hands.

This is the moment you admit that you don't want to see him anymore, that you're breaking up with him. Eddie knows it.

He would like to say no. He wants to say he doesn't want to hear what you're about to say, but he knows he can't.

"All that you want."

"I think I'm in love with you."

Eddie's heart skips a beat. Maybe more than one. He tries to hide the smile on his lips, he can't find a way to do it and thinks the only way is to kiss you.

Maybe he was wrong. He had been wrong all along and you were not leaving him anytime soon.

When he kisses you you don't care that his nails are still freshly polished and will leave stains on your skin and you don't even care when his teeth collide with yours because he can't stop smiling.

The kiss was your answer, he didn't need to say he was in love with you too.

[imheretoreadafic]

Alfred steps into the cave after getting an alert that someone was in there. Bruce is halfway through tearing off his button up shirt.

Alfred raises a brow and asked in a measured voice, "I thought you were taking the night off to see the circus act, sir?"

Bruce freezes for a second before returning to frantically undress and get into his bat suit. "Uh, the ropes snapped. Two dead. Foul play suspected."

"Oh, goodness me, that's horrible."

"Yeah - oh! I need you to pick up the things on this list." Bruce shoved a crumpled piece of paper towards him. Alfred took it calmly, scanning the contents, pausing when all of the items were... for a child?

"Master Bruce," he begins calmly "why do you need children's clothes?"

Bruce paused for the slightest second, clearly hearing him and then deciding to ignore him and instead start putting on his gauntlets. "I'm not going to be home until late. I need to investigate the scene with Gordon."

"Master Bruce, why do you need a step stool?"

"And then we need to conduct interviews with each of the circus members - "

"Master Bruce, why do you need children's vitamin gummies?"

" - which will take a while because they're all, reasonably, very upset at the moment. Anyway, I'll be back by 6 am to make it to that meeting. I may need to do it without sleep, but it's fine." Bruce said as he started to move towards the Batmobile.

Alfred’s eye twitched. "Sir, why do you need these things? Sir? Si - BRUCE THOMAS WAYNE!" he snapped. Bruce froze and turned around slowly.

"Do you think ignoring me will make the fact that you're buying things for a child go away?!"

".... I was hoping it would.."

[zephyrchama]

A truly furious Lord Diavolo. It's not something you've ever seen, and it's not something he ever wants to show you.

Just being in the vicinity makes your skin crawl, your ears ring, your throat begins to constrict and it gets hard to breathe. Every cell in your body tells you to run but is too paralyzed to budge.

When he takes an angry step forward, when foot strikes the ground, he causes an earthquake. The floor shatters, the land shakes. Some may get swallowed up. Everyone is brought to their knees before him.

He remains level headed. Even in the throes of rage, Diavolo will remain logical. Even when those around him can't think, when his vast presence overwhelms his surroundings and causes their nervous system to shut down. All that those around him feel is fear, so strongly, as if it's the only feeling they have ever known and will ever know. The dark sky grows darker, a pitch black void of nothing.

Diavolo stands tall. You never really noticed how sharp his fangs are, his nails, his wings, the scathing look in his eye when he is immensely displeased. With his emotions in check, this is still but a fraction of the royal family's power.

[97latte]

i know everyone paints jisung to be the sub but imagine him being a dom… imagine he becomes so mean when you piss him off. and i mean like PISS him off. he would be all cold, ordering you around and not giving you an inch of what you want. think orgasm denial, throat fucking, you know what i mean. hands grabbing a fistful of your hair as he drags your around the bed. he would get that look in his eyes that told you how angry he was; not necessarily at you - but when jisung feels, he feels.

“what did you think would happen when you pissed me off, huh?”

“awww baby you look so cute begging”

“your sweet little pussy wants to cum? well, hold it in because you’re not allowed to.”

[hiraethwrote]

Satoru is such a baby when it comes to splinters.

Just imagine you’re standing in the kitchen when you suddenly feel the energy in the room shift — turning around to face Satoru, hunched and small with his bottom lip sticking out in a pout, hand stretched out in front of him to show you his wound.

“What am I looking at?” He shakes his hand furiously, having you approach him, grabbing his wrist to keep it still, and he instantly winces in pain. You squint, noticing the tiny, red dot in the dead centre of his palm — and he won’t tell you how he got the splinter burrowed in his hand, but you suspect he ran down the stairs three steps at a time, hand gliding over the railings and brushing over the chipped patch at the bottom of it (again). “I’ll get the tweezers,��� you sigh.

Coming back from the bathroom, Satoru is sat by the dining table, mentally preparing himself for the dramatic procedure you’re about to perform.

“Show me,” you speak softly, knowing he’s going to need the sympathy. He rests the back of his hand on the table, his eyes pinched together as he awaits the stinging feeling of you digging into his hand.

“That hurts!” He squeals, retracting his hand to his chest at the speed of light.

“I didn’t even touch you, baby,” you say with a low chuckle. “Give me your hand again,” and he begrudgingly puts it back in the table.

“Satoru?”

“Hmm?”

“You have to turn off your infinity.”

He peaks open one eye, taking in the scene of the tweezers hovering an inch above his hand. He flicks his attention to your face — one eyebrow quirked, a slightly taunting smirk on your lips, fighting back the laugh you were harbouring.

Clearing his throat, he shifts in his chair to settle in a more confident posture — straightening his back, wiping away his pout and flexing his muscles, all in order to seem like a tough guy.

The invisible pressure under the tweezers disappeared. You lean in closer to execute with precision, only for Satoru to cry out the second the cold metal grazes his sensitive skin, causing you to flinch away on pure instinct.

“Fiiiine,” you singsong, “we can just let the splinter disappear into your hand and travel your bloodstream.” The lie often told to children seems to work, having him chew the inside of his cheek while he thinks for a second, before he once again rests his hand in front of you. “Ready?” He nods weakly, squeezing his eyes shut again.

And with ease, you snatch a hold of the small splinter that was wedged in his flesh and pull it out.

He blinks a few times, looking at his hand, looking at you. “Thank you,” he mumbles shyly, a little embarrassed by how he acted as if it was the end of the world.

With a lighthearted laugh, you get up from your seat and place a kiss on his forehead. “Any time, darling,” you whisper against his hot skin, knowing it’ll probably only be three weeks before you’re sat at the table again, facing the same issue.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[random-twst-things]

Epel: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang a mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it

Vil: Epel, no

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: Mistlefoe

Vil: Mc/Y/N/Yuu, stop encouraging him

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: I'm not, I just threw in a creative name for his new tradition

Epel: Mistlefoe... Got a nice ring to it, I'll use it!

Vill: NO!

Dividers by/from @/cafekitsune

[randomfandomworks]

“I look into your eyes and I think back to the son of mine, you’re as old as he was when I left for war…”

Odysseus can’t help but smile as he gazes down to the baby boy cradled in his arms.

He’d spent years trying to get home, trying to see his family again. It had never occurred to him that his family may have grown in his absence.

His son, his boy, Telemachus, had grown into a wonderful man. More than that, a wonderful husband and father.

Odysseus had learned quickly about you, his sons betrothed, as he settled in back home.

He watched as his son reminded him of himself, hopelessly in love and devoted to his wife. A proud feeling swelling in his chest as he reminisced and caught the softness of his son's eyes on you.

His pride only grows as he watches his son become a father. A little baby boy that reminds Odysseus so much of the one he left behind all those years ago.

Odysseus watches his son hold his own boy, watches as he shares his immeasurable joy with you, listens as Penelope tells their grandson stories, and imagines what it must have been like after he’d gone.

Baby Telemachus being rocked to sleep with stories of adventures filling his head, growing and only knowing his father as myth, finding you and falling deeply into love just as his father before him had.

Now Odysseus’s grandson rests in the nursery where his son once laid. Now a grandfather, Odysseus rocks the boy to sleep the same way he had so few times with his own son.

And as he lays him in his crib to rest he’s grateful to not miss this. To be here to watch his son be a part of all the things he couldn’t.

For Telemachus to experience all the firsts with his boy that Odysseus missed with him.

[csainzoperator]

ferrari drivers and their reaction to you kissing them in the middle of a conversation ☆

warnings: kissing (obviously), skinship, suggestive jokes, slight nsfw, mentions of sex, mentions of food.

word count: 485

charles leclerc

♡ would be yapping about his new ice cream brand, LEC. he would be talking about it so passionately and lovingly that you cannot contain the amount of joy listening to him talk brings you.

♡ he would look at you weird, tilting his slightly, his eyebrows raised in question when you don't react to his words anymore.

♡ you would lean in and give his lips a soft peck, making him giggle. "what was that for?" he would question, gazing at you momentarily, his dimples on display, a soft shade of crimson on his cheeks.

♡ you shrug, "just because." his smile brightens, making your chest tighten with warmth. the type of warmth you feel when the summer breeze brushes through your hair, when you dip your sandy toes into the cold sea water, when you have hot chocolate on christmas night. you admire his smile, unknown to the one on your own face.

♡ he would caress your cheek softly, pulling you closer to him. he always felt so ALIVE when he touched you. so real. so full of uncontrollable love. he would kiss your lips, gently, like he was touching a something so fragile, so precious, so important. because you were all that. "just because." he would mutter against your lips, a shy smile adorning his face.

carlos sainz

♡ it was a summer break, you and carlos were in your small beach house in the south of france. he was making you both breakfast. you did try to help him (tried cracking an egg and got an egg shell inside the bowl), but he refused. he wanted to give you "queen treatment" because princess was too basic.

♡ you sat on the counter as you watched him work around in the kitchen. something about this act was so homely, so domestic. how automated it was, how it all came together so perfectly. how you were so used to it, but would never get tired of it. he was whisking up his world famous (as he would like to call it) pancakes.

♡ you would lean towards him, and he would question your loving stare "no i am not letting you help, mi vida." he would wear his stern gaze, hoping it would shut you up. helping him was far from what you wanted to do. you grab his face and kiss his plumply lips, making a 'muah' sound.

♡ although surprised by the sudden affection, he wouldn't waste a second in kissing you back. his lips would make their way downwards, leaving sloppy kisses down your neck. you had to shove him away playfully to make him stop.

♡ he would have a slight pout on his face, picking up his whisk again to work on his masterpiece. "why would you kiss me!? it was distracting, baby. now i'm not even hungry." he would whine, feeding you before letting the neighbours know what his name was through your, let's say, high pitched vocals.

an: i made this while listening to bollywood romantic songs i lowk died ok. js a lil drabble for my adorable followers! hope u love it <3

[wttcsms]

unlike most of the loud-mouthed, irritating people sae itoshi finds himself constantly surrounded by, he’s long since learned that you are not the type to openly express what you’re thinking about unless explicitly asked. 

so, for you, he finds himself asking into the quiet, sleepy darkness of your bedroom, “what are you thinking about?” 

“that starting tomorrow, i’m going to forget all about you.” you hum, propping yourself up by pressing your palm against the muscular plane of his chest. one of the straps of your silky camisole slips off your shoulder; it shouldn’t be as tantalizing to him as it is, but he thinks everything about you, everything you do, is designed to specifically tempt him. 

he focuses on the tiny strip of fabric, on the smooth expanse of your skin, before his eyes flit back up to your face; he meets your gaze, cocks an eyebrow. “oh?”

truth be told, sae’s not a witty person. everyone lets him get the final word in because he’s got this cold aura and seemingly disinterested expression that screams “i don’t give a fuck,” but he does care. to a certain extent. he doesn’t care about the arguments he has with people; he just cares about winning. when he calls you, and you pick up, even if it’s on the second to last ring before he gets sent straight to voicemail, he considers that a win. when you open the door for him before he can even knock, he considers that a win. 

when you admit that you’re thinking about him, even if it’s to say it’s because you plan on erasing him from your memory, he considers that a win. 

“wanna know why?” you ask him, and he nods. if you were anyone else, he wouldn’t even care. 

“‘cause i can’t handle being the girl that keeps having her ex spend the night.” you sit up fully now, removing your hand from his body. he misses your warmth the moment your touch leaves him. 

“easy fix. we can get back together, then.” the two of you are practically together anyway. he cooks you breakfast the morning after, and you still wear his boxers as pajamas. his body’s pretty sensitive to most sensations, especially early in the morning, but his feet have gotten used to hitting the cold hardwood floor of your bedroom when he wakes up before dawn to brush his teeth and get his day started. 

“too late. i've already blocked your number from my phone.” 

he almost laughs at that. instead, he takes your right wrist, his thumb gently pressed against your pulse point; he likes to apply just enough pressure so that he can feel every beat of your heart. “yeah? i can buy a new phone, get a new number.” 

“you make breakups difficult for no reason.” you tell him, but not yanking back your wrist. it’s why he feels bold enough to bring your fingers to his mouth, lightly kissing the tips of your fingers. 

“we broke up?” he peers up at you, your fingers still so close to his mouth that you can feel the way he breathes life into his words. annoying. he’s so annoying. the worst part is, you’re pretty sure he’s somehow convinced himself that you ending things was just you throwing a tantrum. he’s still treating you the same as he always does. 

“i broke up with you.” not like he needs the reminder. 

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” 

“you don’t have to agree. breakups don’t have to be mutual.” 

“i have a game next week. we’re going to be playing in france. i was thinking a day before the match, we could go visit the louvre, like you talked about.” he’s still going on casually, making plans like there was never a doubt in his mind that you’re going to show up to his game. you received the ticket he sent and somehow couldn’t bring yourself to toss it in the trash, right where it belongs, so it’s currently hiding in your nightstand drawer. 

“sae, i’m not going. i’m not your girlfriend.” 

well, you’re certainly his. he made sure to have you scream out a chorus of yours, yours, yours! to have it drilled into your pretty little head. 

“how do you know my name? i thought you forgot all about me.” he’s holding back a smile. 

“i’m forgetting all about you starting tomorrow.” you point out, and one corner of his mouth quirks up, a smug smirk on his face as he nods subtly to the alarm clock on your nightstand. 

“it is tomorrow.”

you blink, before staring at him curiously. “yeah.” you say slowly, having been bested by sae itoshi once again. “what do you think i should do now, then?” 

give him all your tomorrows for the rest of your life. 

he doesn’t say that, though. he just pulls you in for a long, deep kiss. when you say his name, breathlessly and full of longing, he takes the time to fix the strap of your camisole, knowing it’s futile since he'll be pulling it off your body soon, anyway. 

he wins.

[l0vebombing]

if each of the boys is aware of the others' existence, i can only imagine how much they'd hate the idea that someone else could have the chance to touch your body the same way they do.

sure, it'd be insanely hot to imagine fucking with all of them at the same time, of course it would, but i don't really believe there's any chance of that happening. just the mention of something like that would probably result in xavier fucking you against the window again, maybe even making you call one of your dear ‘friends’ just to make sure they know you're very much taken, even if your mind tends to wander into unconventional ideas that will never happen.

zayne would have to hold back from rolling his eyes at a suggestion like that. if you wanted someone else instead of him, he wouldn't stop you from chasing who you really loved. but sharing you, after you've already chosen him? not his style, and he'd rather believe you were just trying to get under his skin. still, that wouldn't stop him from reminding you that you shouldn't be so greedy when you can barely keep up with him alone.

rafayel would be so offended, seriously. frustrated, irritated, and all the negative feelings a person could possibly feel. he’d probably say something like, "oh, sure, let's invite a bunch of strangers to fuck my girl. because that's not at all awkward or problematic." it would definitely take you a while to calm him down. and even after apologizing, you wouldn't be off the hook— he's never been particularly rough in bed, but after such a suggestion, he'd feel compelled to show you that he's more than enough and far better than anyone else could ever be.

sylus' incredulous laugh would sweep his momentary anger under the rug, he'd rather pretend he misheard you. honestly, he'd also think you only brought it up to annoy him, because you must know he'd never agree to share you with anyone. you’d spend a good while sitting on his lap, the office door locked tightly, watching some old videos to refresh your memory as to why that idea was ridiculous. his hands would hold your wrists firmly, ensuring yours didn't wander lower than he'd allow for the next week.

suggesting that to caleb would be like asking for another decade of private captivity, without contact with anyone except him. depending on his mood at the moment, he might say he found your joke amusing— or he'd fuck the idea right out of your head. he waited so long to see you again, this time finally able to have you the way he wanted, no longer having to act like just some friend, and now you say something like that? ha. go to sleep— tomorrow's another day, and you'll have plenty of time locked inside his house to reflect on your words. but that only after the number of rounds you've gone through surpasses the number of positions you've tested.

[imheretoreadafic]

Alfred stood at the sink, scrubbing dishes with much more force than necessary. Bruce was doing horribly mentally lately. Near constant nightmares, preforming poorly in school, only talking when he was snapping at someone.

"I shouldn't have agreed to take care of him," He couldn't help but think. "I haven't the foggiest clue how to raise a child! He's better off if we never see each other again."

"Uhm, where does this go?" Alfred flinched and looked over his shoulder. Ten-year-old Bruce stood in the kitchen, holding a serving spoon.

Silently, Alfred nodded to the drawer, watching as the boy put it away and then reached to grab more clean dishes.

"What are you doing?" Alfred asked and Bruce paused, looking unsure.

"I, uhm... I figured we could watch the new episode of Gray Ghost together sooner if I helped you clean up... Am I in the way?"

"No," Alfred said softly. "No, I think you're just where you belong, my dear boy."

20 years later, Bruce sits at a desk, organizing physical copies of case files. 12 year old Dick was running circles around the man and he was exhausted.

"Oh who am i kidding?" He thinks to himself. "I can't keep up with Batman, Wayne Industries and Dick. I love the kid but I have no clue what I'm doing. He's better off if he forgot he ever even met me..."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Dick asked and jeez Bruce really was tired because he didn't even realize he was in the cave.

"Since when do you file things?" Bruce joked dryly and Dick rolled his eyes.

"I want to show you a routine I've been working on and I can't do that till you finish up." Dick explained, sounding exasperated.

Bruce blinked a few times.

"You're willing to file if it means I watch your routine?" He asked bluntly. Dick blushed and scowled like the angsty pre teen he was.

"Don't make it sound all mushy..." he grumbled, crossing his arms. That startled a laugh out of Bruce and Dick looked at him in surprise. "That's what gets you to laugh?! Not my hilarious jokes?!"

Snickering, Bruce replied, "What hilarious jokes?"

Dick gasped dramatically and turned around with a flourish. He put a hand to his head and exclaimed, "Well, if me and my jokes are just getting in your way, I guess I'll leave!"

Bruce laughed and stood up. Without a second thought, he grabbed the small boy and pulled him into his arms, planting a kiss on top of his head.

"You could never be in my way, chum."

[pizzaapeteer]

the guard dog couple M.R

His head cracks like a whip, keen ears alert picking up the smallest mention of your name leaving some unworthy bastards disgusting lips. And he’s on the move without logic, rolling his sleeves up, storming with heighten adrenaline like a ragging bull. His eyes narrowed with dark slits of primal power, “keep my gf’s name out your goddamn mouth-“ but before he can even throw an amped up punch, he’s tugged back by an disciplining force with a strangled grunt, his airway cut off by the strangling tie.

The grip on his tie still tight, that he has to take control of your hand just to get some wiggle room to breathe, and then he’s met with a searing hot kiss, a distraction so good his energy channels. His hands curving around your waist with a tight grip, like he can’t get enough of you, his thoughts of rage evaporating into something more carnal. pulling back you whisper, “why go over there when I’m right here.” With lips so plump and luscious from the onslaught of the assault, and he rolls his eyes but cracks a grin, responding, “god forbid a man defends his women.”

your head whips at the audacity the girl has to try and steal your man; your already on the move walking towards her like an electric live wire. “The fuck-“ before you can even spit out the most venomous curse at her a hand clamps down over your lips and your pulled back agaisnt a hard chest. “Baby hey, relax.” Your eyes stay narrowed, shooting icy glares at the girl, only making Mattheo laugh at your intimidation tactic - though it’s clearly working on the victim as she staggers back. “so feisty when your protective, but let’s put that to better use” he presses a kiss to your temple before he’s sweeping you up over his shoulder and carrying you away, with a playful smack to your ass, as you stubbornly protest how you had it under control.

⤷ navigation. ⤷ masterlist. �� ©️pizzaapeteer 2025.

[ironicallyyn]

The disappointment you face when you enter a new fandom and search for its yandere content but find none

[raindragon-20]

Remus doesn’t usually think about flowers.

But one afternoon, Sirius gently tucks a buttercup behind his ear during a walk. “Matches your eyes,” he says, grinning impossibly wide.

Remus rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move the flower for the rest of the day. He’s still wearing it when they curl up on the couch that evening.

Later, he presses the buttercup between the pages of his favorite book. He thinks… now he has a favorite flower.

[karinasbaby]

the concept of boxer black panther hybrid jake..

always confined between the walls of the gym, engulfed between the tightly knotted ropes from the posts of the boxing ring. he never knew or recognised anything besides roughness and the harsh reality of his nature. how his ancestors were all made to hunt and to prey— and years later he was still following their steps.

he was never gentle. never had the voice of a loving mother whispering for him as she caressed his cheek softly, never had the guiding hands of a father that helped him take his first steps. he’s been alone since he could remember, since he could function.

and he was used to it. he grew independent and isolated, he might’ve craved the unknown tenderness the world never offered him some time ago, but now he only wanted to become stronger.

so his fingers were calloused, his scars deep and dark on his body, his heart completely out of reach. and he believed that he was protected, that this was his destiny, to be so secluded away from everyone. he was safe.

but that was until you came along. with feather light touches, fingertips always grazing his scars that he hid beneath his hoodie with the utmost love. soft hands that held his wounded ones whenever you cleaned his bloodied knuckles and helped him to tie his wraps around his palm. your arms were open for him all the time, warm and comforting. and your eyes— they saw him.

they saw past the scary, dangerous panther that clawed at him from the inside. saw past the boxer that has ruthlessly punched and beat other people, you saw jake. the abandoned, lost soul that was never held with love.

he might’ve barely craved the affection he read about in between pages of dust-ridden books or the cliche movies he saw— but the moment he felt it, the moment your lips connected with his, carrying the epitome of the care and love he lost all his life, he fell so hard.

suddenly he couldn’t breathe without your body next to his, couldn’t live without your shadow next to his, he couldn’t sleep if he didn’t feel your heartbeat right above his.

it was like you cleared every single cloud from his foggy sky, you took every hurt from his wounded body and kissed it to heal. “you make me feel like i’m alive, babylove.” and he meant these words with his whole heart every time he whispered them to your skin.

[scealaiscoite]

.☽༊˚ a hundred assorted prompts

¹⁾ raspberry lip gloss

²⁾ pajama bottoms

³⁾ a silver lighter

⁴⁾ fresh honey

⁵⁾ flushed cheeks

⁶⁾ a fogged-up mirror

⁷⁾ the imprint of a belt buckle on skin

⁸⁾ helium balloons

⁹⁾ a broken cocktail glass

¹⁰⁾ old playing cards

¹¹⁾ chipped green nail polish

¹²⁾ a brown leather wallet

¹³⁾ bullet holes in a wooden wall

¹⁴⁾ seashells lined up along the curve of a spine

¹⁵⁾ beaded curtains

¹⁶⁾ pomegranate seeds

¹⁷⁾ a carabiner heavy with keys

¹⁸⁾ fresh-cut orchids in a pottery vase

¹⁹⁾ vending machine cigarettes

²⁰⁾ an out of date map

²¹⁾ a creaky wooden gate

²²⁾ a minifridge stocked with budweiser and paracetamol

²³⁾ snapdragons growing between pavement slabs

²⁴⁾ smudged yellow eyeshadow

²⁵⁾ slept-in braids

²⁶⁾ library books that’ll never be returned

²⁷⁾ a pink-tiled shower

²⁸⁾ a honeybee on a linen shirtsleeve

²⁹⁾ burnt popcorn

³⁰⁾ watching an eclipse from bed

³¹⁾ a black lace bralette

³²⁾ a tattered patchwork quilt

³³⁾ blue raspberry bubblegum

³⁴⁾ a rusted fishing rod and a dried-up lake

³⁶⁾ the taste of whiskey on someone else’s lips

³⁷⁾ rose-scented candles burned down to the wick

³⁸⁾ crescent-shaped coffee stains on a wooden tabletop 

³⁹⁾ odd socks 

⁴⁰⁾ a loose thread on a jumper sleeve

⁴¹⁾ warm sheets on cold skin

⁴²⁾ amber-tinged perfume

⁴³⁾ gold jewelry 

⁴⁴⁾  a calloused palm against a soft cheek 

⁴⁵⁾ a busted headlight

⁴⁶⁾ sunrise from a jail cell

⁴⁷⁾ hand tattoos that weave around fingers

⁴⁸⁾ coconut shampoo

⁴⁹⁾ a doorbell sounding in the middle of the night

⁵⁰⁾ ladybugs crawling across a headstone

⁵¹⁾ grass stains on blue jeans

⁵²⁾ a loaded saddlebag

⁵³⁾ a dusty wine cellar

⁵⁴⁾ a bikini top draped over a bedpost

⁵⁵⁾ snow in july

⁵⁶⁾ dirt-red mountaintops

⁵⁷⁾ goosebumps in a heatwave

⁵⁸⁾ an empty dinnertable

⁵⁹⁾ a fresh manicure and bruised knuckles

⁶⁰⁾ zombie movies

⁶¹⁾ bitten lips

⁶²⁾ dark eyes full of tears

⁶³⁾ a soft cast in summertime

⁶⁴⁾ stale coffee in paper cups

⁶⁵⁾ frozen peaches on a black eye

⁶⁶⁾ acrid smoke

⁶⁷⁾ bound hands

⁶⁸⁾ animal tracks

⁶⁹⁾ unwound vhs tapes

⁷⁰⁾ cartoon plasters

⁷¹⁾ lipstick marks on shirt collars

⁷²⁾ silver bangles

⁷³⁾ sharing a coat in a downpour

⁷⁴⁾ fields with grass at waist-height

⁷⁵⁾ daisy chains up to your forearm

⁷⁶⁾ rolled-up shirtsleeves

⁷⁷⁾ the smell of bleach in a dark room

⁷⁸⁾ a shared sleeping bag

⁷⁹⁾ a new haircut

⁸⁰⁾ swimsuit tanlines

⁸¹⁾ perfume clinging to a pillow

⁸²⁾ lollipops dangling between lips

⁸³⁾ a badly-timed grin

⁸⁴⁾ old books

⁸⁵⁾ tongues stained from slushies

⁸⁶⁾ waking up in a hailstorm

⁸⁷⁾ dying sunflowers

⁸⁸⁾ colourful sunglasses

⁸⁹⁾ the last pew

⁹⁰⁾ tall, rattling windows in a storm

⁹¹⁾ six missed calls

⁹²⁾ sticks of incense burned down to the last

⁹³⁾ bunk beds

⁹⁴⁾ matching sets

⁹⁵⁾ ruined mascara

⁹⁶⁾ a boxing ring

⁹⁷⁾ stained glass windows

⁹⁸⁾ fairy forts

⁹⁹⁾ a cluttered bedside table

¹⁰⁰⁾ a hangover in the evening