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pricesgirl · 3 months ago

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Mary Janes - headcanons

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

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pre relationship

Jinx loved winding Y/N up, especially when it came to her precious, meticulously organized notes. She’d scribble crude doodles over the margins, sometimes even between Y/N’s perfect lines of text. Y/N’s skin would burn, and of course that only made Jinx do it more.

Y/N kept a literal clipboard—like, a real, physical clipboard—where she documented every single time Jinx pissed her off. We’re talking dates, times, categorized offenses, and passive-aggressive annotations in red pen. “Disrupted lecture with unsolicited kazoo solo,” “Graffiti in locker again (phallus-shaped??),” “Stole highlighter, replaced with crayon.”

Jinx had a habit of stealing Y/N’s favorite pens—not out of necessity, but pure, unfiltered spite. She knew Y/N would spiral, tearing through her bag like a woman possessed over her precious 0.38 Pilot G-2s.

It started with silent theft. Then escalated. Soon, Y/N started finding ransom notes tucked neatly into her notebooks: “If you ever want to see your gel pen again, meet me behind the vending machines. Come alone.” One time, Jinx even taped a note to her desk that read: “He misses you.” —with a single black G-2 dangling from a noose made of floss.

Jinx once slightly rearranged all of Y/N’s meticulously color-coded folders—blue tabs where the yellow ones should be, highlighters swapped just enough to sow chaos. It was surgical. Precise. Cruel.

Y/N noticed immediately. Of course she did. She didn’t sleep until every single tab was back in place. She even double-checked the ink flow in her pens. Twice. The next morning, there was a sticky note on her desk. “ur cute when you meltdown <3” In glitter gel pen. Y/N almost set her whole binder on fire.

All those graffiti hearts and messy scrawls splattered across Y/N’s locker? Lowkey love notes in disguise. Jinx would never admit it—not out loud—but half the time, they weren’t even insults. Just inside jokes, twisted quotes from books she knew Y/N liked, little phrases she’d overheard her say and pretended not to care about.

Y/N once rewrote an entire group lab report after Jinx, of course, decided to draw a massive dick in the margins. It wasn’t even subtle. Full-on masterpiece. Y/N, seething but in her quiet, meticulous way, submitted both versions to the professor with a passive-aggressive note: "Please disregard the vandalism. Some of us take this seriously."

Jinx once accidentally spilled acid on Y/N’s lab project. Y/N retaliated by submitting a formal complaint to the science department. Jinx then broke into the chem room at night and rearranged everything. The teacher blamed Y/N for it.

They’d glare across the room, roll their eyes whenever the other spoke, purposefully bump shoulders in the hallway. Everyone thought they were one more insult away from an all-out brawl. The sexual tension was vile.

Y/N accidentally tripped Jinx in the hallway once—after finding “Y/N is a giant nerd <3” scratched into the bathroom stall. Jinx retaliated by putting googly eyes on everything in Y/N’s locker. Even the apples. (apples ofc she is a teachers pet after all)

Y/N hated how aware she was of Jinx’s presence. How loud her laugh was. How her socks never matched. How her eyeliner smudged just right. She definitely didn’t sneak glances in class. That’d be ridiculous.

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early relationship

Y/N secretly keeps track of all the weird things Jinx does—like the times she stares at her reflection in the cafeteria window like she’s plotting world domination or when she argues with a teacher just to watch their face turn red. Y/N doesn’t mean to. She just... likes knowing what she’s up to.

Jinx starts sharing her earbuds casually, but Y/N flinches the first few times, not because she doesn’t want to—because she wants to too much. Sitting close, knees touching, music low, pretending it’s no big deal while both their hearts are screaming.

Now Jinx's doodles are hearts stabbed with arrows, tiny cartoons of Y/N blushing, or stick figures holding hands. Y/N acts annoyed, but she quietly starts collecting them in the back of her binder.

Jinx starts leaving her stuff behind. A hoodie here, a beanie there. At first, Y/N folds them up and gives them back. Then she keeps them. Then she starts wearing them. Jinx nearly passes out the first time she sees Y/N in her oversized jacket.

Y/N starts cleaning Jinx’s room every time she’s over. Jinx makes fun of her for it… while watching her with the most pathetically fond smile. She lets her do it. Pretends she hates it. Loves it.

Y/N threatens to go full academic weapon on anyone who calls Jinx crazy. Jinx brushes it off with a laugh but clutches that memory like it’s gold.

Jinx starts carrying gum 'cause Y/N doesn’t like the taste of smoke (She acts like it’s for herself, spoiler alert it's not)

Jinx one time hands over a USB drive labeled “music for nerds who pretend not to like me.” Y/N burns her a CD in return, painfully curated with care, and includes a handwritten tracklist. Jinx listens to it every night before bed.

Jinx teaches Y/N how to play one of her favorite video games Y/N is terrible at it (to start with). Jinx is so smug about it—until Y/N stays up all night practicing in secret and finally beats her. Jinx demands a rematch. Y/N kisses her senseless.

Jinx brings her weird little offerings. A bottlecap shaped like a heart. A sticker that says “Certified geek.” A leaf that looks like it has freckles. Y/N saves every single one in a shoebox under her bed and labels it: Jinx’s chaos treasure pile.

Y/N learns how to do Jinx’s eyeliner. Very carefully. Very gently. Jinx fidgets at first, but the intimacy of it makes her go quiet, soft. Y/N’s hands tremble just a little, but the lines come out sharp. Perfect. Jinx won’t let anyone else touch her face after that.

Y/N starts carrying hand sanitizer Jinx likes the smell of. It’s this ridiculous artificial cherry scent that Y/N would never pick for herself—but Jinx once said it “smells like stolen candy and bad decisions.” And now Y/N keeps it clipped to her bag. Jinx notices. She always notices.

Jinx starts humming Y/N’s favorite study songs when she’s anxious. Not full singing—just little hums, off-tune and rough around the edges. But Y/N hears it from across the room and it grounds her. Every time.

The first time they share an umbrella, Jinx lets Y/N take all the coverage. Her shoulder gets soaked, her hair plastered to her forehead, but she keeps her hand steady. Y/N notices halfway through and tries to shift it, but Jinx just shrugs. “I like storms.”

Jinx marks the ceiling above Y/N’s bed with a tiny dot of glowing paint (like those glow in the dark starts but kinds personalised) so even in the dark, even when they’re apart, there’s one little point of light for Y/N to look at and feel like someone’s with her.

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college years

After all of Y/N’s early classes—no matter how early—Jinx is always waiting outside the lecture hall. She’s propped against the wall, hoodie half-zipped, headphones in (shitty wired ones on their last leg), holding a cup of coffee.

Jinx draws on Y/N’s wrists when she’s anxious. Little stars, eyes, crooked hearts. She uses one of Y/N’s fine-tip pens, whispering dumb commentary as she sketches. “This one’s a battle scar. From surviving Intro to Macroeconomics.”

Jinx paints a constellation mural on the ceiling of their shared dorm room. She claims it’s random. (It’s not). It’s the night sky from the night at the party, the night Y/N took the joint from Jinx for the first time.

“It’s not that bad.” She doesn’t say anything. She’s just staring at the joint like it might bite her. But I see it. I see the hesitation, the way her fingers twitch like she wants to take it, just to see what it feels like. I blow out a puff of smoke, letting it hang between us. “You’re curious, aren’t you?” I almost dare her to say no. (Remember this :3)

They keep a shared folder on Google Drive labeled “Defcon Love” It has playlists, memes, research notes, and one single doc that just says “we’re gonna be okay.” Y/N added that during finals. Jinx never deleted it.

Jinx steals Y/N’s scarves. Constantly. Even when it’s not cold. Wears them like sashes or belts or headbands. Y/N starts pretending she doesn’t notice, just so she can lean in and gently tug them back.

Jinx collects old band tees, and Y/N secretly loves wearing them. Sometimes Y/N borrows one of Jinx’s oversized, faded band shirts, and Jinx will make a show of being “offended” that Y/N’s wearing it. In reality, she adores seeing Y/N in her clothes, the fact that Y/N doesn’t even care about the band but still wears it with pride.

“What do you think?” Y/N asks, trying to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “What the hell are you doing wearing that?” Jinx says, pushing herself up on her elbows. “That’s my shirt. Not a fashion statement.” Y/N raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “I like it. It’s comfy. Don’t you have like, five more of these anyway?” Jinx snorts, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a deep personal connection to every single one of them, okay? They’re not just... shirts.”

They have late-night karaoke sessions in their dorm room. Sometimes it’s just them and a cheap microphone, singing off-key to cheesy songs. Y/N laughs too hard at how badly they’re singing, but Jinx just stares at her like she’s the most beautiful thing in the room. “Sing louder,” Jinx demands, and Y/N always does.

They have a favorite spot on campus—a quiet corner in the library or a bench under a cherry blossom tree—and it’s theirs.

Jinx buys a ridiculously massive plush shark for their bed, and it’s there just to annoy Y/N (who secretly loves it and ends up snuggling with it when Jinx isn’t around).

They make sandwiches together in their dorm kitchen at night. It’s never anything fancy, just whatever’s left in the fridge, but Jinx has this way of making it feel special. She’ll always add a little extra something—an extra slice of cheese or a dash of hot sauce—and then look at Y/N, grinning like she just won the Nobel Prize in Sandwich Making.

Jinx demands chaotic movie nights, and Y/N is just along for the ride (begrudgingly, lovingly) Movie night is sacred.

Jinx will kick open their dorm door like she’s storming a castle, armed with snacks that should honestly be illegal together. “Tonight’s feature,” she announces, eyes wild, “is a documentary about competitive cheese rolling and a zombie shark rom-com. Double feature. Let’s rot our brains, baby.” Y/N doesn’t get a say. She never does. She sighs, mutters something about “cinematic integrity,” and curls up beside Jinx anyway. She’ll complain the entire time and still stay for the credits.

Late at night, they'll sit on the edge of the bed, with nothing but the glow of Y/N’s desk lamp illuminating the room. Jinx talks about her wild ideas for the future, while Y/N listens quietly, fingers tracing the edge of her coffee mug. Y/N’s heart aches in the best way. No matter where they’re going, she knows she’ll go with Jinx. (they're soulmates fr)

Y/N is all about her carefully planned self-care routines—bath bombs, herbal salts, a candle lit just so, maybe a book propped up on a towel nearby. It's her quiet, sacred time to unwind after a day of overstimulation and deadlines.

One night, Y/N's mid-soak, totally zoned out, and Jinx flings the door open (with absolutely no shame), tosses in a rubber duck she picked up at a gas station, and chirps, "You rang, milady?"—already stripping like she absolutely belongs in this scenario. (She does) At first, Y/N groans, rolls her eyes, muttering something about “boundaries,” but then Jinx sits on the edge of the tub, fingers combing through Y/N’s wet hair with surprising gentleness, her voice soft and teasing: “You smell like a lavender-scented nerd.”

Y/N scoffs under her breath, but her face is already flushed—not from the heat. “You’re insufferable,” she says, voice quieter than before. Jinx doesn’t reply. She just tilts her head, leans in that extra inch like she’s testing gravity. Like she’s not quite sure who’s gonna move first. And then—Y/N does. It’s slow, warm, barely more than a brush at first. But Jinx chases it with another, then another, her lips curved like she’s been waiting for this exact moment. (She has)

Y/N helps Jinx dye her hair—and it becomes their little ritual Jinx insists she can do it herself, like she always has. But Y/N is already pulling on gloves, laying out old towels and sectioning Jinx’s hair with careful fingers. There's blue dye smeared across her knuckles, streaking her wrists, and Jinx won't stop grinning at how serious Y/N looks about it. "You’re acting like it’s brain surgery," Jinx teases, legs swinging off the edge of the sink.

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domestic/married life

Y/N leaves notes on the fridge that say things like “Don’t forget your keys today <3” or “Remember to breathe.” Jinx leaves ones that say “stole your juice lol xoxo” or just a doodle of a raccoon in a trench coat.

Jinx talks in her sleep. Y/N answers. It started as a weird joke. Jinx would mumble nonsense in her sleep, and Y/N would respond like they were having a full-on conversation. It became a tradition. Now, even half-asleep, Y/N will murmur a dry "That’s not how gravity works, love" when Jinx mumbles about rocket boots and cat gods.

Jinx never sits on the couch like a normal person. It’s either upside down, sideways, hanging off the edge, or sprawled across Y/N like a cat. If Y/N’s reading, Jinx is curled around her like she’s part of the furniture.

Y/N cooks. Jinx taste-tests (and steals bites). Jinx is always hovering behind her, arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder, whispering “Is it ready yet?” even when it’s not even in the oven.

Their fights are short-lived and soft (like yk chap 12 where they barely could be apart for a day). They’re both stubborn in their own ways, but neither can stay mad for long. Y/N needs space when she’s upset—Jinx needs closeness. They meet halfway: Jinx gives Y/N a few minutes, then shows up with a quiet apology and a silly drawing or a coffee. Y/N always forgives her with a kiss to the forehead.

Rainy days are their favorite. Y/N lights candles and reads by the window. Jinx pulls her into a big blanket cocoon on the couch, playing old movies or doodling in a sketchbook. They stay like that for hours, legs tangled, the world feeling so small and safe.

Their periods sync up, and it’s a disaster. They don't realize at first—just find themselves bickering over everything, craving junk food at the same time, and getting irrationally emotional. Y/N tries to push through the cramps; Jinx dramatically sprawls across her. "You’re impossible." "Yeah, you love it. Now scoot closer."

Jinx impulsively adopts Beans first—a scrappy, chaotic little orange tabby she finds at an adoption event. She names him Beans immediately because "he’s shaped like a bean, look at him, toots. He’s literally a bean." Y/N tries to argue for a more "normal" name but secretly finds it endearing.

A few weeks later, Y/N adopts Nova—a sleek black cat with huge eyes and a quiet, observant demeanor. Nova is calm, elegant, and a little spooky, which Y/N adores.

Beans is absolute chaos, climbing on every surface, knocking over Jinx’s paint supplies, getting his paws in Y/N’s textbooks. Nova is stoic and patient, often seen silently judging Beans’ antics from a safe distance. (reminiscent of a certain pair :3)

There’s an entire shared photo album on their phones labeled “The Beans & Nova Saga.” It’s filled with chaotic pictures—Beans with socks on his head, Nova staring judgmentally at an unfinished art project, and both cats curled up together when they think no one’s watching. (the babies omg)

They have lazy Sunday mornings filled with pancakes and kissing. Jinx of course burns the first few pancakes. Y/N pretends to be mad, but kisses her flour-dusted nose anyway.

They fall asleep holding hands every night. Even when they’re exhausted. Even if Jinx is passed out halfway across the bed, her hand somehow still finds Y/N’s under the blankets.

Jinx starts a tiny garden for Y/N. She has no idea what she’s doing and most of the plants are crooked as hell, but she plants a whole section of wildflowers "because they reminded me of you. Kinda messy. Kinda perfect."

Y/N keeps a scrapbook of all their milestones. Shit like ticket stubs. Old keys. Restaurant napkins with doodles. She hides it under their bed, but Jinx finds it one night and cries quietly into Y/N’s shoulder.

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authors note: hiii, so i've never actually written headcanons before so i have no idea if these are shit or not but they were so fun to do (and yes there will be a part two for the nfsw ones) :3

and tysm to the lovely @dreamyraincloud for helping me conjure some ideas <3

#dude i can't let mary janes go omg #lowkey wanna do oneshots for each of these #jinx arcane #jinx league of legends #powder arcane #jinx x reader #jinx smut #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x you #jinx x female reader #jinx x female reader smut #jinx x fem!reader smut #arcane x reader #jinx headcanon #headcanon #jinx #arcane #mary janes

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everestgale · 7 months ago

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Whatever you're trying to do right now, you don't have to do it alone.

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Happy New Year's Eve, Slay the Princess community!

A long, long message and credits to the designs are under the cut.

[Please excuse any awkward sentences, weird repetitions, and grammatical mistakes, I've been awake for 20 hours or so]

I cannot describe how much joy I feel right now, finally getting this drawing done. I feel nothing but joy when I think about Slay the Princess, and I feel nothing but pure adoration when I think about and spend time in this community. This game and this community truly brought a lot of happiness to me and made this otherwise unremarkable, maybe even depressing, year that much brighter. I wish I had more and better words to describe what I'm feeling right now! Genuinely, I don't have words to describe how much gratitude I feel right now.

And so for my final piece of 2024, I wanted to make a thank you drawing to this community and hopefully express the fraction of love and gratitude I feel right now. And I decided to make that drawing a group photo of 30 different Heroes! It ended up being 29 Heroes and one Opportunist, but I promise there is a reason for that-

If I had more time and energy, I would've included even more people, there are so many skilled artists, writers, and wonderful people in general who ended up excluded, especially due to this drawing being a voice-centered piece. But I'm glad I at least get to highlight some of the wonderful creators and artists in this community! Please check them out and support their work! They are all amazing <3

If you wanted to know who is the author behind each design, I made an annotated version! Sorry if the text is too small, I tried my best to write it as large as I could T-T

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Now onto the message to the people in the drawing:

First! I sincerely apologize if I missed some details with your Hero design, or if I used an outdated version of it. I wanted to keep this a surprise, and for some of these, I had to dive into the depths of Tumblr to find (hopefully) relevant references. And yes, if you've received a DM from me about your Hero in the past few weeks or so, this project was the reason why! And if you've received an anonymous ask about your Hero, there is a quite good chance it was from me, too <3

And second! I have a message for each and every one of you:

@acethekenku: Your designs are so well-made and awesome! Especially adore your Broken and Contrarian, there's something about them that just immediately catches my eye! Your Contrarian's fashion and DIY skills are also immaculate :]

@artificial-radiance: Your art is absolutely wonderful, whether it's Slay the Princess, Destiny 2, or sonas! I wish I had a better word to describe your art, but the best I got is "delicious" /lh

@beartitled: I adore your StP comics! I adore your drawings of male!Princesses! I adore your non-StP work! Everything you make is so charming, and it's always a joy to see your work <3

@bubblybloob: One of my favorite fanart memes, to this day, is your old "I do not control the speed at which princesses die" meme. I still go re-read it sometimes when I'm not feeling great, it always puts a smile on my face (yes, this is my kind of humor). Though, your new voice designs are SO creative and unique! Love the fluffy Para and the prophetic cage Skeptic especially, but they are all so good <3

@coldranger: Your lads! So simple and yet so well-designed and expressive! That roadrunner Hunted you shared yesterday is so adorable, I can't with him! It is always wonderful to see more of your drawings. Also thanks for gushing with me over mod Owl's designs <3

@cookiealchemieart: I recently mentioned that you are one of my first Tumblr follows, and it's for a good reason! You made a lot of wonderful illustrations, and your three fan princesses are some of my favorites of all the ones I've seen before! And your voice designs, gosh, I am hugging your Contrarian-

@dampfur: Your art is unbelievably charming! And when I saw your Burned Bridges post with redesigns for Cold and Smittten, I absolutely fell in love with them. I will use this space to gush about just how simple and yet adorable and recognizable they are!

@glitchh1337: Always love seeing what you are up to on Discord! Whether it's design concepts for voices or little pixel art animations, they are all wonderful :]

@justcherryqwq: Your animations!!! Cherry, your animations are pure gold. The way you draw voices as little guys flying around the scene/the Long Quiet is just too perfect. I am also grabbing and petting your Paranoid, gently, of course!

@occatorcreator: You have one of the most unique voice designs/representations I've ever seen! Especially in that one post where you drew voices taking over Long Quiet's body, the way you drew the "possession" is just... so unique, so cool! I wish I had better words!

@orcatnip: I cannot describe how much delight your sketches bring me whenever they show up on my dash! And the way you wrote about voices appearing as fractures in Long Quiet's soul! Oh! Genuinely obsessed!!!

@pareidolla: Your voice designs are very pretty and very adorable! As you can see, I immediately had to try drawing your current iteration of Hero because he is SO PRETTY! I couldn't help myself. Sorry if I was too hasty in my decision to include an in-progress design, but I wanted you to be included here-

@remaking-machine: Rema!!! Your voices!!! They are so precious and charming! Love your Cheated, love your Hero, love your Skeptic! You were one of the first people I found & followed on Tumblr, and it's been such a joy to see what you're up to <3 [Also, I still would like a tray of Hero cookies-]

@salty-an-disco: Your writing, at least from what I've seen of it, is awesome! I genuinely wish I had the attention span to read your Heathens AU because whenever I see you talk about it, or draw anything for it, I love it a lot! Hopefully one day I will, but for now, I am here to admire your art :]

@sorry-not-feeling-it-right-now: Hey, who let this bird-fox into this gathering of Heroes-

Jokes aside, I am absolutely obsessed with your voice designs, and I really, really wanted to include you in this drawing, despite the fact that you are still working on your Hero design. Thank you for letting me include your Opportunist in this drawing, I cannot WAIT to see your Hero design <3

@tai-janai: Your drawings are so delightful, and I love the way you draw your voices! Your voice shipping sketches are also so adorable, and your HeA-inspired ParaHero sketch sometimes decides to show up in my head and not pay any rent (I love it a lot)!

@voiceofthebroken: Remember how I mentioned that your Cheated post inspired one of my upcoming projects? Yes, it was this one. You are responsible for this /lh

Don't want to repeat myself too much from the ask I sent yesterday, but I will once again say that I love your voice designs, and I will once again compliment your Cheated and Hunted. They are precious! <3

@wysteriaisapenguin: Your art is so charming and so recognizable! Your most recent HeA drawing is absolutely stealing my heart in a way that I cannot describe!!! I also really like your Hero design, he was an absolute joy to draw <3

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Oh look, there's more, too!

@sonjalikestodraw: Sonja! Oh Sonja, everything you make is just SO PERFECT, your pieces are always so stellar and carefully crafted, and your voice designs are so thoughtful and so iconic, I love it every time you make a post with a little write-up of your design notes! It's always such a joy to read!!

0th: To say that your designs and your writing inspired my own would be saying nothing at all, they were some of the first I've seen! They will always have a special place in my heart as "the designs" that greatly contributed to my own final designs! And your Swap AU still is one of my favorites in the whole fandom, love all the unique designs you made for it!! Noble my beloved <3

@itsonlypolite: The way your voices ingrained themselves in my brain, I cannot describe it! Your designs are truly some of the most unique, most recognizable designs in the fandom. You deserve every single positive comment and compliment on your art and designs!!! I also love how you reply to people's asks with little drawings of your own. It's so charming and welcoming <3 It's also always pure joy talking to you!

@cammie-yammie: I am very glad that I got over my anxiety and started talking more and hanging out in your thread! I love your art, always so charming, so distinctly you, just such joy to look at, and I'm glad I got to engage with it more, and with you as a person!!! Damn, these sentences are confusing lol Long story short, love your art, love talking to you, and it's just pure joy either way <3

@lavb-b: I am not kidding when I say that your Businessman animation rewired something in my brain, whenever I watch it, I cannot stop myself from laughing, even though at this point I've seen it like 20+ times already. Besides that, your art in general is just such high-quality work, and I love talking to you on the Discord server! Welcoming you with open arms to EG's Yap Central Station /lh

@phantasmatoucan (mod Owl): OWL HOW DO YOU KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS- You have no idea how obsessed I am with your art, you have SUCH a distinct, awesome style, and the way you designed your voices brings me so, so much joy. And not only are you a skilled artist with amazing voice designs, but you are also just such a positive person, too!!! How is this possible!!! What's your secret!!!

@hello-universe-lovers: Your reblog comments always make me happy, and I absolutely love chatting with you!!! The little interaction you wrote between our Cheateds brought me so much joy as I was finishing this project <3 And even besides that, your art is so charming, and also apparently you are a wizard who draws everything with your finger- I cannot understand such witchcraft /lh

@neverpathia: You are the reason I QPR-ship ParaHero! You got these birds in my brain, and I can't get them out, how dare you (/lh). Jokes aside, I really like your writing, especially the way you write voices, and your art is also very pretty, I love it a lot! It's also such a joy to have you hang out in my art thread, thanks for doing that :]

@disarraydoodlez: Jam! And Kiri! Your art is so iconic, Kiri's desire for perfection never goes unnoticed, and Jam's chaotic silly ideas are always such a highlight (I'm still waiting for you to finish that one Den idea. The one we kept laughing about for like 30 minutes. That one). Thanks for inviting me to the PotC one-shot, I had a lot of fun playing it, and I'm glad we still hang out and chat sometime! Love everything you make, regardless of the fandom, and I can't wait to see what you both will make next <3

@s3viien (they mostly exist on BSky, check them out there!): Sev! My partner in crime! One of my biggest cheerleaders, you have no idea how much how dearly I appreciate it. I love sharing all my random ideas with you, and I love hearing about all of yours! Your art, your videos, and your music are all PEAK, and I'm always happy to see what you've been up to! To our friendship for as long as it lasts <3

@inkedout: And last but certainly and absolutely not least, Ink, my friend, you are one of the big reasons why I feel as comfortable writing all of this right now as I am right now. I cannot put into words just how much I appreciate you as a friend!! it is always such a joy to talk to you, whether it's about StP, or ATR, or a different fandom, or just life in general! I love seeing all your art, your OCs, and anything else you might have <3

Also voice shipping. There are certain ships, you probably know which ones, that are now stuck in my head because of you. I blame you /lh

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I believe that should be all I have to say! Happy New Year's Eve again, and I will see you all in 2025!

#slay the princess #stp #slay the princess fanart #stp fanart #stp voices #stp hero #voice of the hero #stp opportunist #voice of the opportunist #<- he shouldn't be here but he is #art #fanart #other people's voices #eg chatting

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tinytennisskirt · 1 year ago

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Rumours

Art x Fem!Reader

Summary: You hate hookup culture, so your roommate Tashi sets you up with her boyfriend’s best friend. A nasty rumour interferes with the date and confusion ensues, but there’s still time to fix things so the night isn’t a complete waste. It can still be cute and romantic.

Warnings: written in my notes app and unedited- miscommunication trope, mentions of sex and certain foreplay, one kiss.

So you’d managed to find yourself scheduled for a date with Art Donaldson, college tennis player. It was of course, the work of your best friend and roommate Tashi Duncan. She’d set it all up- all it took was one night of margaritas and sitting upside down on your bed, feet up against the wall, saying, “I’m kind of tired of being alone. I want to do things, I want to go on dates and I want to fall in love and out of it without the pressure for make out and hookup culture. It’s so tiring to sit here night after night.”

And Tashi was immediately on it. She whipped out her phone and was texting someone and you didn’t hear about it until the next day, sober. She’d set you up for a date with one of her friends. You weren’t involved in her passion for tennis and you were relatively new to this place, so you hadn’t met Art before. But he sounded nice enough. Tashi described him as a bit taller than her, but she stood at 5’10, so that meant he had to be around 6ft. Blonde, curly-ish waves and big ears. You’d chuckled a little at that.

Tashi didn’t warn you about anything, she was excited and set the date up for 7pm. Art would swing by your dorm and come get you and you’d go for dinner, practically a blind date. Or a vision-impaired date.

You carried out your class of the day, excited. Tashi said she’d lay out your perfect outfit while you were in classes after she got back from tennis with Patrick. You’d met Patrick, of course, he was over quite a bit. He was best friends with Art, you knew that much. It was funny he was never around.

When your partner for an assignment, Mary, who was one of your class friends- asked why you looked so eager to get out of class, you apologized. She laughed, “It’s okay, we are already ahead on the project, you’re allowed to slack a little.” You apologized again.

“I promise I’m invested,” you chuckled. “I have a date tonight is all. I haven’t been on a date in… forever.”

Mary tilted her head with intrigue, “Oooh, where to?”

“Some restaurant called The Bistro?” You answered. “Apparently it’s not much of a Bistro and just a nice place to eat and get a drink.”

“I love it there! They have great garlic bread but I don’t recommend for a first date,” she laughed and shut the book you two were annotating. You smiled. “Who with? Is it the cute barista guy from the campus coffee shop who was totally eyeing you yesterday? Please say it is.”

You shook your head, “You know my roommate Tashi? She set me up with one of her tennis friends- Art Donaldson?” You noticed Mary’s smile fall. No. What? “What is it?” You pressed immediately.

Mary shook her head, “I’m sure it’s fine. I just know you- that’s all.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that I know you hate hookup culture with a passion. I know you. And I also know things about Art… he has a reputation.” She cringed away like you were going to explode. You weren’t. You found the anticipation in your stomach was fading slowly.

“Oh…”

“But it’s just a rumour… I’ve heard from a few girls he’s only good for sex.” She waved her hands around like mad. “It could be totally a lie but I’ve heard it from… quite a few girls. Too many. Just be aware.”

You clicked your tongue. It figured. “Thank you. I had no idea.”

Mary apologized to you and gave you the rest of her energy drink because she felt so bad about breaking it to you- which you both laughed about. It was a bit funny, but the idea of going out with someone sex-oriented was something that you weren’t interested in. You weren’t about that- After being used in that way before you promised you wouldn’t put yourself in that position again. But rumours were rumours.

Despite everything, a date was a date. You’d get free dinner out of it, hopefully. Maybe. And you could always call Tashi to come get you. You went back to the dorm and Tashi had laid out something velvety and pretty for you with a small sweater and some black heels. She’d done well. You did your hair and makeup nicely and the clock continued to tick as you thought this over. Did you really want this?

The knock on the door snapped you out of you staring yourself down in the mirror. The time to contemplate was up and it was too late. You could just… not answer the door? Maybe he’d go away after a bit. But you were hungry and ramen compared to restaurant food did not seem so appealing. You hated what you were doing with every fibre of your being, but you opened the door with a smile.

He stood there in a sweater and nice pants, hair blonder than you’d imagined, and a toothy grin on his face. He looked sweet. That was your first impression. You didn’t notice the way his jaw went slack a little the moment you opened the door because as pretty as Art imagined you’d be, you were prettier.

“Hi,” you said.

“Hey,” he replied, extending his hand. “I’m Art. You must be y/n.” It wasn’t often anyone asked to shake your hand like this. You shook it gently. “Tashi told me a lot about you but I didn’t know you’d be so…” he stopped himself and smiled at his feet. “I am too forward already.”

“You’re doing fine,” I smiled. I tried to put my prejudice aside. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you as well.”

He smiled a crooked smile. Almost like a smirk, but I hoped it wasn’t a smirk. You could like a crooked smile a whole lot better. The two of you made introductions and began to walk through the dorm and outside. “I’ve been having car trouble lately. The back seats are a bit of a mess, it’s where my put the parts I’m working on.” He said before opening the passenger side door for you. He was nice. Sweet even. You didn’t mind the backseat was a mess.

“Thank you,” you said, slipping into the car. The car smelled like a mix of cinnamon and apples and a bit like a car, but good enough. The conversation on the way there consisted of talking about music. He liked the same stuff you did, apparent by the amount of cds he had in his glovebox. He was funny, too. You liked that. He was cracking jokes effortlessly and looked at you a bit much for someone who was driving but eventually you got there and sat down and ordered.

“So what’s tennis like?” You asked, folding your hands on the table. “A question from an outsider.”

“Competitive,” he replied. “But I’ve been at it since I was a kid, me and Patrick- you’ve met Patrick, which now I come to think he has mentioned you as well- me and Patrick went to the same tennis academy.”

You nodded, “So it’s been your life.”

He smiled, taking a sip of his drink, “Yeah. I’d say I’m pretty good but I would like an outsiders perspective, you know.” He smiled even wider and it only got more crooked. You smiled back. He was inviting you to watch him play. “What’s your thing? Your life?” He asked.

You grinned, “Maybe writing. Or reading? It’s boring, but-“

“It’s not boring,” Art interrupted. “I like reading in my downtime. I just finished The Turn of The Screw.”

“For fun?”

“For fun,” he laughed. He had a nice laugh and a smooth voice. Mary’s voice echoed around your head, repeating the ghosts of his past. He was almost too good to be true. He read for fun? A sports-oriented man who read for fun? You leaned on your fist. He looked you in the eyes, trying to read you, almost angling his head as if it would help him see into your mind. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” you nodded, smiling a little bit embarrassedly. But you straightened your posture out. “You read for fun as a boy in college, it’s rare. I like it.”

He looked down at his plate, almost sheepishly. You didn’t know he was hiding the flush in his cheeks that went from ear to ear. The conversation carried on and he was still sweet. The food arrived and you talked about school and life before it and you were really beginning to see past the rumours.

Near the end of dinner you used the washroom quickly. You fixed up your blush and powder. He was nice. He was really nice and really sweet and he was full of compliments in subtle ways, about the small things. But you couldn’t stop thinking about what Mary had said. Who was to say that-

Your thoughts met an abrupt end as a girl in the bathroom of the restaurant tapped your arm. She was tall, thin, with hair like red velvet. You nstantly recognized her from my first class of the day, she was a girl who raised her hand often. “Hey!” She greeted me, wrapping slender arms around your neck in a hug you weren’t expecting. She smelled strongly of whiskey. Oh…

“Hi…” you said warily, patting her on the back as she pulled away. “How are you?”

She smiled a drunken smile. “I’m good! But I have to tell you something- I saw who you’re out with and I just wanted to come and warn you- he’s a player and I heard he’s only in the game for a fuck.” She giggled but shushed herself immediately after and leaned against the wall.

The pit feeling in your stomach made it churn. Things were really going well with Art, you were fractions away from letting it all go. He read for fun, for fucks sake. You bit your lip- “How do you know?” You asked. It wasn’t as if a drunk girl would give a great answer but maybe enough of one.

She pointed at you, “A friend of a friend went out with him… steak I think. And he was all nice-“ she hiccuped. You braced yourself. Art was still out there… maybe. Why couldn’t things just be easy? You felt the fight or flight kick in. “But after he expected his dick sucked or whatever-“

Your stomach dropped again. Fuck! Why couldn’t men be nicer? Easier? More full of love and not lust. You stood in this bathroom believing in a drunk redhead and you hated it. You pulled out your phone and wanted to call Tashi. But this was Tashi’s friend so suspicions that he was a boy who used women and it just felt wrong. You sighed a deep, long sigh. “He expected it?”

“Yeah! He was all pushy.” She said. “Anyways I gotta go, just had to tell you.”

“Wait-“

She stumbled away. You inhaled again, so deep you ran out of capacity. You were not the kind of girl who valued men like that or kept them around. Was it so hard to just be loved and cherished? For fucks sake, fucks sake! You were gripping the edge of the sink so hard, your knuckles were white. He was so cute, he really was. Blonde curls, crooked smile, the way he spoke and he was so charming.

You walked out of the bathroom and back to the table, Art smiled as you sat back down. “Hey, you okay?” He asked. “I was thinking of getting dessert… do you want to share or… I’m happy to get you one for yourself.”

You pressed your tongue to your cheek, “Art… I think I’m going to cut our night short.” You started, looking down, away from him. It was a bit too late, you’d seen his face fall, his smile slip away into softly opened lips.

“Oh,” he nodded, pulling out his wallet. You stopped him too quickly, nearly putting a hand on his and immediately yanking your hand back.

“No-“ you said. “I’ll pay, I’m sorry I wasted your time.” Anything to get away from someone whose rumours had followed you to the restaurant. There was a time

He shook his head, “It’s okay, really. I-uh…”He shook his head again. You hated the feeling in your stomach as it rose and fell again and again. “I’m sorry.” He said.

You wondered why. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” The rumours were too much. He raised his hand for the bill. “I’m just… I…” you found yourself unable to lie and say you felt sick. He looked at you, eyes meeting eyes with nothing else to look at but how blue they were, with a bit of brown on the left eye. But he wasn’t company you wanted to keep. “I’m sorry.” And you paid with your card when the waiter came. He looked away from you and you messaged Tashi to come get you.

He stood with you outside, the wind tousled your hair. You looked over at him looking out over the parking lot bathed in purple light from the restaurant sign. You looked away. He looked over at you, but you didn’t see it until he took a deep breath. “Was it something I said?” He asked. You looked at him, not turning your body, but your head. “I’m sorry for asking, I know how it sounds, but part of me isn’t going to let this go unless I know if it was my fault.”

You looked at your feet in your pretty shoes. “It wasn’t anything you said,” you replied. The silence amongst the nearby whoosh of traffic was unbearable. Your eyes met. You hated being terrified of being used- girls like Tashi embraced it for the experience but you were tired. And maybe if you were more naive or not so set on a high standard then you wouldn’t be leaving before dessert. You wished you weren’t terrified of it. And you wished you were tired. Art nodded. More silence.

What an awkward first date. You wished you hadn’t left the dorm in the first place. The wind moved his hair around. His hands stayed in his pockets. “Should have let me pay,” he chuckled quietly. “I have to go back to my dorm to tell Patrick not only did I fuck up a date with a pretty girl but she paid too. You know you’d be saving me from him if you stayed? You know him…”

His little attempts at bringing levity made you smile and you hated it. “I’m sorry,” was all you said. It felt like all you could say. He smiled a bit back at you. Tashi pulled up in her jeep and you waved at him. He waved back. A silent goodbye.

The door wasn’t even closed and Tashi was speaking, “Why? What did he do?”

You didn’t know she’d be unhappy. “I heard things about him? A girl pulled me aside in the bathroom to warn me- I was told a few things about him today and it threw me off, I can’t-“

“Art is the sweetest guy I know, you couldn’t even finish your meal? I get that you know what you want but I went out of my way to try and get you what you wanted and… I’m so sorry but that’s not right. What you did. You could have stuck it out.” She spoke a mile a minute.

“I heard he’s only in it for sex!” You said, defending yourself. You and Tashi didn’t fight, you had to voice it or else she wouldn’t understand.

“What?”

“Mary told me- and then the redhead girl from my morning class at the restaurant told me-“

“Mary Sinclair?” Tashi said. “Call her right now.”

“Hm?” Her words were whizzing out of her mouth and they were sharp. She was genuinely never like this with you. She was only like this when she knew she was in the right.

“Call Mary Sinclair,” she repeated. She started driving away. “I’m sorry I’m yelling- please.” You listened because Tashi was so firm.

“Hey,” Mary started when she picked up. “How was your date?”

Tashi grabbed the phone from you- “Hey Mary, this is Tashi. Just calling to ask- You said something about Art Donaldson?”

She stuttered on the other line. You narrowed your eyebrows. This was fast. This was very strange and out of character for how you and Tashi treated each other. Tashi looked over at you, driving with one hand. “Yeah, I mean. I know he sleeps with girls on the first date. And I know he’s a player of sorts- I was only warning- I heard from a friend of a friend.”

“Which Art Donaldson?” Tashi followed up, her tone still strong. Straight to the point. You were honestly afraid she’d crash putting all her effort into the power of her voice.

Mary clicked her tongue, “Tennis player? Tall, wears a lot of sweaters. Brown hair, big nose, kinda long-“ and you perked up. “He’s roommates or… friends with that blonde guy.”

Oh fuck. What did that mean? You had a feeling but you hated what it truly meant. You looked at Tashi, who arched her eyebrow at you. “Who spread those rumours?” She followed up. “I mean- who told you that?”

“I heard them from Tessi,” she replied. You immediately knew who that was. That was bathroom redhead girl. Oh my god. “Why? What’s going on?”

Tashi spoke through her teeth, “Who did she hear them from?”

“Some girl he went out with three months ago. I forget, she’s a friend of Tessi’s I think and her name is… Val?”

“Fuck!” Tashi said aloud. You were caught up in how fast this was unfolding and the moving car and Art. Who was Art? “Thanks Mary!” She hung up and put my phone back in my lap. “I’m sorry, y/n, this is not fair to you or to Art.”

“I’m- what the fuck?”

“They’re talking about Patrick. Someone is confused, they’re talking about Patrick, Val is his ex… before me. She hates his guts, she thinks he played her. He didn’t, he just… wanted me. Someone along the line mistook him for Art, got their names mixed up- you’re right for trusting your gut.”

You just blinked. Tashi veered a little harshly. “Patrick? They think Art is Patrick? Somehow? That’s so- how? They’re so different.”

“I don’t know either- I’m sorry I’m yelling- Patrick is the so-called player, not Art.” And your stomach dropped lower than it had before. And your heart instantly gushed. He was not a dick, he wasn’t a player, he was just everything you hated to like- he was charming, kind, he read for fun, he was complimentative and funny and you had just fucked him over after what was a good date, inner thoughts aside. And he even asked you stay, god he thought he did something wrong. You felt ache in your fingertips.

“Tashi, can we beat Art back?”

Tashi pressed her hand to her forehead, “Boys dorms?”

“Please,” you said. Suddenly it was urgent. The whirlwind picked you up again. Tashi who was already driving a little recklessly turned her jeep onto campus grounds as fast as she could. You feared a little for your life. You had just done something awful to what was the perfect guy and it was all under false notions, your prejudice, your fear of someone being two-faced or fake and not being genuine.

“You can’t get in without a keycard, you have to catch him before he gets in and that’s his car parked right there in the lot,” she veered over to the entrance and saw Art walking down the side of the building. He was sweet and quite perfect and you ruined everything. She could have called Patrick who she knew was hanging out there, she could have helped but there wasn’t another thought in your mind. You ditched your bag in her car and got out of the jeep just to have your ankle immediately bend when your high-heeled feet hit the ground. What a misunderstanding, it burned in your chest and fingertips like an ache. The pain in your ankle was momentary only because you needed to move. You kicked the shoes away and ran, barefoot on the grass, across it to the sidewalk, feet hitting the rough hard ground. You had never felt faster. You didn’t call his name, you didn’t want to make him turn.

You ran and you ran and he was at the door, reaching for his key card. This was a great mistake- this was a crazy mistake. You almost ran into him, you stopped just before and he turned his head, eyes widening a bit. Your curled hair had grown in volume from the wind, your nose was pink, your breaths were heavy and harsh and you were barefoot.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. He met your eyes. You couldn’t catch your breath, your lungs burned and your heart beat a mile a minute. “Art, I’m so sorry.” You pressed your hand to your stomach. “Something happened, some misunderstanding and I- I let it determine how I felt about you and truth is you were lovely but the false information I’d been given overshadowed it and I-“ you huffed. “God, I’m saying I fucked up. Aside from that you were perfect and I really liked talking to you.”

He folded his arms. You immediately felt small. Stupid. “Art, I’m sorry. Someone told me you were a player and I am not- I’m not about that. I don’t like people like that, not for myself. I let someone tell me that was who you were but they were confused and they were talking about Patrick! Tashi told me his ex… spreads rumours.” You breathed out heavily. “I’m so sorry, I really should have asked you about it or something. Or even asked the girls who told me. They were confused and they didn’t even know it. I was scared that you were some dick like the others but you’re not. And I’m sorry. And you’re letting me ramble and honestly it’s fine because I could just talk about how sorry I am forever.”

“She does spread rumours like that but Patrick… he couldn’t be me,” Art said. He said it with a straight face, but what he said was a little funny. I smiled. And I wanted him to smile too. “I liked talking to you too. I thought it was going really well, honestly.”

“I was just scared, I promise. I believed it. I believed it to keep myself safe and I’m baring my insecurities in the open right now with little to no filter- just- I didn’t get the feeling you were like that whatsoever, but I was told…”

He nodded, “I know. I’m sorry someone told you that, but it’s definitely not me.” He kept his arms folded. The ache manifested into your whole chest. You’d been such a dick. You hurt someone kind because of a rumour. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your face flushed hot. Scalding. You must have turned entirely pink. “I really- I just wanted to tell you I was sorry and why and what happened before you went inside. I am really sorry, Art. It was really a lovely night things aside. I am frankly mortified and upset I acted the way I did and I just… I wanted you to know how sorry I am.” You expressed, your hands gesturing all the important parts. He kept his lips straight. You felt judged. I guess that’s how he felt. “Look, I’m going to go. I really didn’t mean to make you feel like you did something wrong. It wasn’t you at all. I’m sorry I completely misjudged you. I’m going to go now, back to my… um… dorm.” Your flush burned your skin. “Thank you for listening.”

“You know you’d be saving me from Patrick if you stayed?” He said. His arms unfolded and his small smile was back. Very small. But there. You clutched your stomach and swallowed hard. Your heart still beat a mile a minute.

“Art-“

“It’s okay. People get mixed up between me and Patrick all the time. And although I didn’t like the no-reason-pay-and-leave, I still like you. I think you’re really sweet and pretty and you just ran across the residence lawn barefoot just to apologize with a million words because you felt that bad. I think that makes up for the judgment. Plus… it makes sense. I heard what Tashi told Patrick about what you’re looking for in a guy, it makes sense that you’d ditch.”

You breathed out hard. “She said she wouldn’t tell…”

“You’re sweet. And you were protecting your peace.” He said. He looked at his feet. “And I get it and I like you.”

“I like you too.” You huffed. “Can we-“

“Start from scratch?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. He smiled a crooked smile and the weight was partially lifted. You still felt awful, but less so. He understood.

He stuck his hand out to you and you shook it. His crooked smile was in full bloom. You blushed. “Art. Not Patrick.” He said.

“Y/n,” you replied. “Do you want to get out of here? This is me asking you out. Again.” You clarified. He laughed a little.

“Yeah I’d be honoured, but I pick the spot… again.” He agreed. You nodded. And nobody spoke for a moment, you just smiled. And his blue eyes weren’t so down-looking. “Do you need shoes?”

“Depends on where we’re going…” you said. “Thank you though. For understanding.”

“You’re too pretty for me to care about what some other girl said about someone else,” he said. “You don’t need shoes, come on.”

And you walked off together, starting up some new unrelated conversation. He took you to play tennis, he kicked your ass but you were also barefoot and in a dress. You ended up laughing hysterically and he was everything you wanted and more. And the events of a few hours ago faded out like nothing. It became a thing of the past and all you both knew now was badly swung tennis rackets and bare feet on the court, laughter, harmony. And it was nearly 2am when he walked you back to your dorm. He carried your shoes that you found by the sidewalk.

“That was fun,” you said outside your door. “Thank you again for forgiving me.”

“Thank you for running across residence to apologize,” he replied. You smiled. So did he. “Don’t let anyone mix me up again? I’m going to talk to someone about that…”

You laughed, “I’ll fix it for sure.”

“Thank you.” He put his hands in his pocket then immediately took them out. “I want to see you again.”

“I’d like that,” you answered. Your eyes met properly. “Very much.”

“Me too,” he said. “And you looked beautiful tonight. Even with your hair all messed up.” You’d been whining about it on the court. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Or I guess today.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said. His eyes fell downward. You could tell he stared at your lips. Despite all you stood for, tonight was enough to warrant it. You grinned in the silence and he matched it with his smirk-like smile. And it was mutual, the kiss. Both of you leaned in, meeting in the middle. Soft. Easy. Simple. And quick. Just his hand on your cheek, pushing your hair behind your ear before pulling away. “Goodnight.” You said. Your body felt warm.

He grinned, a little bit of a twinkle in his eye. “Goodnight.”

Rumours were just that- rumours. And they’d gone to die, at least for you and Art. You took off your makeup, got into your Panama’s, completely debriefing with Tashi as you did. She had been trying to get to the bottom of it since she got back, it turned out. There was going to be nothing in the way anymore, all pre-conceived notions thrown out the window.

You smiled as you fell asleep with the promise of being called tomorrow. Nothing else mattered.

- masterlist

#art donaldson #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fluff #challengers x y/n #challengers fic #challengers #Patrick Zweig #art x y/n

407 notes · View notes

glowettee · 6 months ago

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digital notes guide part 1/5: setting up your aesthetic note-taking system 🎀

posted by: glowettee

hey study angels! ♡ mindyyy heree

omg so many of you have been asking about my digital notes setup, and i'm so excited to share all my secrets! this is going to be a 5-part series on creating the most aesthetic and effective digital notes ever. i'm going to start with the basics! this is super exciting because digital notes are literally unlimited, no wasting paper, and no perfect handwriting required.

♡ choosing your digital notebook

because the right foundation changes everything:

notion (my personal fave):

amazing for linking different pages

super customizable layouts

can embed literally everything

aesthetic cover images

databases for tracking progress

easy table of contents

goodnotes:

perfect for iPad users

feels like writing on paper

pretty digital stickers

custom paper templates

easy organization system

beautiful handwriting options

onenote:

works across all devices

infinite canvas (so dreamy!)

easy subject dividers

voice recording option

drawing capabilities

♡ essential digital tools

make sure you have these ready:

hardware needs:

reliable device (laptop/tablet)

stylus if using tablet (worth the investment!)

external keyboard (for faster typing)

good lighting for screen

comfortable study space

backup charging cables

software must-haves:

note-taking app of choice

cloud storage system

screenshot tool

pdf annotator

calendar app

backup system

♡ creating your aesthetic setup

because pretty notes = happy studying:

color scheme selection:

choose 3-4 main colors

pick 2-3 accent colors

create highlight palette

save hex codes

make color meaning system

maintain consistency

font selection:

main text font (i use garamond)

heading font (something cute!)

emphasis font

quote font

size hierarchy

spacing rules

♡ basic organization system

keep everything findable:

folder structure:

semester folders

subject folders

unit folders

topic folders

resource folders

revision folders

naming convention:

date_subject_topic

use consistent formatting

add emoji indicators

number sequence system

status markers

importance levels

♡ template creation

work smarter not harder:

essential templates:

lecture notes template

reading notes template

study guide template

revision notes template

project planner template

weekly overview template

template elements:

header section (date, subject, topic)

learning objectives area

main content space

summary section

question bank area

revision checklist

setting up your digital note system might take time, but it's so worth it! think of it like creating your perfect study sanctuary - every detail matters!

the next post will be getting into actually taking notes during class (and making them both pretty and effective!). for now, focus on setting up your perfect system.

pro tip: don't get too caught up in making everything perfect from the start. your system will evolve as you use it, just like how my notes looked completely different freshman year!

xoxo, mindy 🎀

152 notes · View notes

yvesol · 17 days ago

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codes & codons - PART 1

(SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X READER)

PLOT:

in the dead of the night, your computer’s webcam glows red—he watches you from another realm made up of binary roots, hoping that he will one day get to taste the sweetness of your lips instead of the static that stings his tongue.

or: the sentient horror game character au

MASTERLIST // READ IT ON AO3

—

He was never programmed to say your name. Or that he’d find you in the real world.

Bravery was never your strongest feat. From the formative age of you-don’t-remember to your adulthood, you have remained a consistent anxiety-stricken and nervous coward. Heart palpitations, cold sweat, and fidgeting were all more like familiar habits than coping mechanisms whenever anything concerning happened in your life. Including now, where you were a blubbering mess on the phone.

“You don't–” hiccup “--get it, Gaz, the presentation is in two weeks, and I’m finding a mistake in the code now of all times.” You were heaving, trying to make sense of what your computer screen was showing you: Ghost, the video game character you oh so lovingly programmed, was saying something completely different than what he was supposed to.

As someone deeply engrossed in what they did, you always wore your work ethic like a badge of honor, turning you into a nocturnal tornado on the computer, typing away codes for different projects, and spending hours trying to find tiny errors. You were a victim of your own discipline, constantly sleep-deprived and delirious during the day. You were sure you must’ve unknowingly changed something while working the night away. Maybe you mistook Transcendent for another project and wrote something else in its code.

“He was supposed to say that he’d wait for the player. H–how did he even say my name…I don’t understand what’s going on–”

“Hey, listen to me–”

“No, Gaz, it’s so weird. I can see my name on the screen. I never put it in the program–”

“Listen to me! Calm down. You won’t be able to think if you panic so much. Take a few deep breaths first, alright? With me, now, come on, one…” You did as your friend said, finding solace in his soothing voice.

Gaz was a fellow programmer and the only one who understood you better than yourself. A true friend when you always needed one. Even though he wasn’t much of a gamer, He helped develop the main codes for the game, even giving you input for the story so you could make it more interesting. He was integral to you in every aspect of your life.

“I’ll drop by your place and take a look, okay?” he reassured. There are contrasts in every duo, complementing figures. Where you lacked organization with your messy notes, there Gaz stayed meticulous with his carefully annotated textbooks, and where Gaz lacked concern about random things like bills and apartment maintenance, you stood tall with your list of worries.

“You can’t come over tomorrow. I have to go to like, three interviews back to back. I’ll be out all day,” you say as you wipe away your snot and tears. You're finally done with your wailing now that there’s some comfort for your frenzied mind. “It’s okay. Just text me your apartment’s passcode and I’ll let myself in.”

If you agree, send him your passcode. You could feel the onset of a wave of productivity. Having Gaz in your life truly was convenient.

You look back at your computer and sigh, the only words that are displayed sending chills down your spine and static in your ears.

“I will find you.”

It felt like each and every pixel of his skull mask-covered face was mocking you.

And when you finally shut your eyes and fall into the thick cocoon of sleep, does he take a good look at you.

He takes his first breath as the webcam glows red.

–

Kate Laswell, the head of talent acquisition at 141 Games, was staring at you through her clear glass coffee cup as you chewed your wrinkled lip, waiting for her question. “I am quite impressed by your resume. Working full time while handling a side project like Transcendent must’ve been difficult.” The woman was trying to warm you up to her presence, even going as far as to conduct the interview at the coffee shop in the company building.

‘I had the idea for the longest time, and I was just so tired of waiting for the right moment to settle down and work, so I grabbed my computer and started. I’m exhausted, but I feel accomplished.” You prayed that your answer didn’t make you out to be a neglectful and distracted employee but rather a dedicated programmer.

Kate smiled at your answer, crows’ feet deepening beside her eyes as she placed your resume on the coffee table. “I could easily look at your file and figure out what Transcendent is about, but I want your perspective on it. Tell me about the game: the plot, your inspiration, how you came up with the codes. All of it.” She placed one leg on top of the other as she leaned forward a little, making the sunlight hit her brown hair in such a way that you could see the little canities sprouting.

“Well, it’s a choose-your-own-adventure game where your choices can either give you a good ending or a bad ending. Your job as the player is to free yourself from being haunted by your dead ex-boyfriend. So you go on a journey to learn how to exorcise him. It’s scary if you get the bad ending and sentimental if you get the good ending.”

Kate hums, her eyes watching you like you’re the most interesting person ever, a program so unique that it cannot be replicated by anyone, even if they have the codes for it. “Tell me more.”

The interview goes better than you thought. You were interviewed by three of the most famous game development companies, but something in your heart just pulled you to 141 Games. Kate’s enthusiasm to learn not just about your magnum opus but also about your other projects made you feel validated for your craft. Also, she was the only one who didn’t force you to hand over your game to the company if you chose to work there.

Your apartment looks the exact same way as it did before you left–notebooks about programming languages strewn on your coffee table notes about Transcendent stuck on your refrigerator using some of the many magnets Gaz gets you from his business trips, and your computer screensaver displaying the time and date.

The only thing out of place was a box of donuts waiting for you on your kitchen counter. You find a note from Gaz next to it–he called them emotional support donuts. Nothing could be more fitting for the glazed confection that sent a rush of dopamine with every bite.

With the last of the donuts in your mouth, you walked over to your computer to check if he had fixed the code, only to find an email notification from him. Surprised that he didn’t just send you a text; you read the email anyway.

Sender: [email protected]

Time: 3:15 pm

there is nothing wrong with the code

i think you stay up too much

What a weird message. No mention of any curiosity over how your interviews went.

Jealousy. You rubbed your temples to get rid of that thought. You had enough on your plate with job offers, new projects, and the university presentation.

He could’ve just called you, but you digressed from texting him. The haiku-esque email made you think of it as another one of his playful moments.

Sender: [email protected]

Time: 6:36 pm

Hi Gaz,

Thank you for the donuts :) they were delish. And thanks for looking at the code anyway. Though I doubt what you’re saying is true. I think I’d remember if the dialogues in my own game had been changed. Also what’s with the weird texting style? are you making fun of me for the code thing?

Love,

Your best friend.

You then open Transcendent to check whether Gaz was right or not. There was already one mistake in the game; there was no way there weren’t more mistakes.

The familiar music starts, and you start the playthrough as usual, making notes for the presentation you have to give at a local university next week. It was all going swell when you found another strange dialogue. Where Ghost was supposed to mention that he would never leave the player, he says something else.

“1 @m com1ng. Wa1t f0r m3. Just 0ne mor#”

You whipped your phone out of your pocket as fast as you could and dialed straight for Gaz, hoping that he would pick up in a ring or two. You swore that the dialogue didn’t say that the day before. Your mind was running through every logical explanation for the situation as you waited for Gaz to pick up. You sat with bated breath, hoping that it was your friend who might’ve accidentally messed up this part of the program, too, but to your disappointment, he hadn’t picked up at all.

Which is fine, you could just message him and then continue playing the game in the meantime.

You found a few more mistakes in the dialogue, mainly numbers replacing letters, and sometimes, his figure wouldn’t show up in some scenes at all. You chalked up the latter to the game, not being able to load everything on time.

You were enveloped in gooseflesh as you thought about how much work had just suddenly piled on your shoulders right before one of the most important days in your career. After all, people already had low expectations for an indie gamer like you; you couldn’t afford to make things worse for yourself.

You decide to go on the gaming forum you’re usually active on and look up Transcendent, hoping to find out whether other people have had similar issues with the game. Still, to your surprise, the only comments you find are theories about Ghost’s past and more praise about your game.

You push your blue light glasses back up the bridge of your nose before stretching and opening up the codes for the game again. Your mind reeled over how one singular mistake could progress into multiple, checking for potential bugs, but the program was spotless. Clean as a whistle, as straightforward as typing out ‘print: hello world.’

<!DOCTYPE html>

<head>

<title>Dialogue</title>

</head>

<body>

<p id="dialogue">Player: "You have to move on."</p>

<button onclick="document.getElementById('dialogue').textContent = 'Ghost: \"I could never leave you”.\"'">Continue</button>

</body>

</html>

Frustrated, you shut your computer. You still had to decide which place you wanted to work at, and there simply weren’t enough hours in the day to fuss over a single problem.

Gaz’s cryptic emails continued for the next few days till he ceased all contact. He wouldn’t pick up when you’d try to call him, and your texts to him refused to go through, with only a small error symbol appearing when you’d text him a simple greeting.

“I haven’t seen ‘im either. Rent was supposed to be paid three days ago, and he’s not responding to my calls or texts. Didn’t say anything about not being able to pay on time. The house is locked too. If you find him, then let me know, or I’ll have to call the police.” His landlord seemed more frustrated about not being able to collect rent than about Gaz’s safety. With a nervous nod, you went back to your apartment to continue working on your presentation.

You bit your nails and thought about going to the police, but it wasn’t the first time Gaz had gone AWOL and returned as if nothing had happened. It just never happened for longer than four days.

But you couldn’t let all these thoughts get in the way. With the university presentation and new job opportunities, your hands were tied, not to mention all the new side projects you were handling. For now, you’d just have to shut the concerned side of your brain and make it through the fog.

You don’t see Gaz at your university guest lecture as he had promised before; so much for moral support. Surprisingly, Ghost doesn’t act up during your demo playthrough: there are no weird dialogues, and his character loads properly during different scenes. The program almost acts like a well-behaved dog.

Your mind splinters when you watch a sci-fi movie about a robot gaining self-awareness. But you’re quick to remind yourself that sentience is not possible. It’s probably all those energy drinks you chug down like water.

You can’t help but reel at the different possibilities about his disappearance. Maybe he has finally settled down and gotten a partner, though he’d never leave you in the dark about it. He could also be very sick, probably came down with something extremely contagious–but the landlord said he hadn’t heard from him in days.

Or maybe he’s jealous and resents you for not crediting him.

You try to email him for the tenth time to see if he’s okay, and hours later, you finally get a reply.

From: [email protected]

Time: 1:41 am

not c0ming b4ck

You try hard not to bite off the inside of your cheek, though its cushioning is the only way you can stop yourself from grinding your teeth. The man has fallen off the face of the Earth, and this is the only reply you get? You try sending a follow-up email, but all you get is an error saying that it never went through.

You try again five times. Same result. You make a decision to go to the police if he doesn’t reply in three more days.

–

The coffee in the styrofoam cup is hot enough to turn your palms soft and red. It’s the least of your worries now that you know your friend has been missing for a week. A random junior officer was kind enough to hand over the warm caffeinated drink when he noticed your jittery state while waiting to speak with a detective. You doubted that it would help.

You jolt like a foal that has just started to stand on its twig-like legs when a large man enters your vision. His mahogany desk looks comically small compared to his frame: broad shoulders, towering height, and thick hands. His face looks aged, mainly because of stress and the way his beard has been cropped. His name slate sits tilted on his messy desk that is filled with files and a lone coffee cup that is almost filled to the brim.

“Hello, I’m Detective John Price. How can I help you, ma’am?” He sits across from you with his arms folded, making him look even more imposing. His dark circles and deadpanned face showed that he was trying to grasp onto every bit of politeness he could harness within himself.

“Hi, my friend is gone–he’s missing.”

The crowded police station makes it hard for you to collect your thoughts. A combination of cacophonies come from all directions. An old woman loudly yelled about noisy neighbors in one corner, two drunk men argued with one another, and a group of policemen laughed while eating bagels. It doesn’t help that the desks have been put so close together that every once in a while, someone’s elbow bumps into the back of your head as they hurriedly walk past you. You ignored the following apologies after a while.

John looks at you pensively before taking a big gulp from his cup. “How many days has it been since you’ve last heard from him.”

“About a week. Though he’s only been contacting me via emails and completely went AWOL about three days ago.”

“So, three days?” John sluggishly pulls out a sticky note from his desk’s drawer and clicks his pen.

“Huh?”

John sighs as he rubs his temples. “It’s been three days since you’ve actually heard from him.”

“Yes, but his number–like, I tried calling and texting for the past week, and nothing went through. I’m just really worried.”

Though his beard covers a good part of the lower half of his face, you can tell he’s grinding his teeth. His questions say concern, but his face says frustration.

“Has something like this happened before? Not hearing from him? Maybe he’s on a trip.”

“Yes, but–”

“There you go, there’s your answer. If he has contacted you via email, I’m sure he’ll contact you again. Don’t fret.” He’s about to get up, but you grab onto his arm. You try not to cower under his gaze when he looks at you like you’re a child begging for candy.

“No, you don’t get it. I got this really weird email saying that he’s not gonna come back. Here, I’ll show you.”

He’s still standing up when you get on your tippy toes and nearly press your phone to his face with Gaz’s email displayed on it. He takes one look at the email and then glares at you. “Not going to come back, you say?”

You nod with as much concern as you can show, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glossy. His large hand clasps your wrist and turns the phone back at you. “Please read this again.”

From: [email protected]

Time: 1:41 am

Hey,

I had to go to Spain for an impromptu work trip. Network has been shit since I’m staying in the mountains. Will be back in about two weeks!

Love,

Gaz

Your blood grows cold. It was the same time, with the same email address, but with a different message. You were so sure you pulled up the right message, but you checked through your inbox again. Just to verify. “But–but–”

No sign of the original message.

“Ma’am, I can understand that you may miss your friend, but these–” he points to the heap of files sitting on his desk “--are real missing person cases. I have to spend each second of my day running aroun’ the city, trying to find any trace of ‘em. And because of false reports like yours, I have to run on back and waste precious moments where I could be investigatin’ on consoling people like you. Now, please take your leave. I’m busy and would like to get back to work.”

You could tell he was trying to be as nice as he could, so you obliged, not putting up much of a fight, and dragged yourself out of the police station. It’s not like you had any evidence to support you anyway.

You stare at Gaz’s strange email until you get a notification from Kate Laswell asking if you have made your decision.

–

The sound of static buzzes like a low hum in your ears, forcing you to take an Advil before leaving for work. Gaz’s disappearance still has you frazzled. So far, no one has taken you seriously. His landlord did not care about his whereabouts when he mentioned that he had randomly received a wire transfer for the rent.

Life still went on for you, though. You got a new job, choosing 141 Games as your next summit. It took a lot of contemplation, but it worked out in your favor in multiple ways: the office building was only twenty minutes from where you lived (via public transport), they always had an assortment of pastries in the break room that didn’t taste like they were a day old, and you got very high pay despite having little to no background in video game programming.

Everything was perfect except for the hindrance of one coworker–Philip Graves.

Most of the people on your team were very glad to have you on board, some of the smartest minds in the country crowding around you in the breakroom for a small welcome party, except Philip, who cut it short by condescendingly nagging everyone for wasting time.

“We better get back to work if we don’t want to stay overtime, am I right?” You still shudder thinking about his deprecatory stare at you with his arms folded, judging how a little girl like you could make it to the top so quickly.

You couldn’t blame him, though–from what you had heard, Philip worked hard to get to where he is today and was not happy to learn that you got your position simply by creating one game.

But then again, that little video game was the result of your blood, sweat, and tears. And you did it all while balancing a full-time job. Though you weren’t someone who reveled in praise and constant approval, you did enjoy the occasional acknowledgment from your peers for your hard work, as a humble woman. You believe this only ticked Philip off even more, going as far as to tell the intern that you didn’t drink coffee when it came to ordering snacks for department meetings.

If you were in high school, you would’ve asked the person next to you to tell you whether big bully Philip Graves was hazing you for being the new kid.

Things are a little different as an adult. Usually, when you seek out support, your enemies assume that you have no defense and go full throttle. It starts with no coffee at meetings, then it moves on to condescending remarks about your suggestions, often dumbing down your ideas at meetings, and then, last but not least, promotion sabotage.

So you keep quiet, keeping your worries to yourself.

You sink into your very comfy and expensive Ergohuman chair as you gloomily wish you could speak to Gaz and find comfort in his presence. You hadn’t heard from him in two weeks. Literally and figuratively.

His strange emails went from three sentences to a single word. All random phrases got more cryptic with each email he sent. He hadn’t even bothered to ask you about how your presentation went. A part of you doubted whether he was angry because you never mentioned him in the game’s credits, even if his contribution was really all about cross-checking and maybe one or two dialogues.

Jealousy.

You’d been seeing that word a lot more lately. Your computer kept showing you ads of articles about jealousy in friendships and the workplace.

It was almost like it could read your mind. The buzzing sound in your ears grows a little louder. You take another Advil.

You swiveled in your chair to look out the window. The bleak winter snow covered almost every roof in sight, like a white blanket over the city. You wonder if Gaz is somewhere out there, possibly avoiding you over his exclusion from Transcendent’s credits.

You’re pulled out of your wishful thinking when Farah clears her throat. She has a tense expression on her face as she places a small stack of papers. “They’re assigning duos to get work done faster. You’re in charge of gameplay engineering with…” she sighs at the expectant look on your face.

“Graves. They’ve added more play styles, so expect to stay late tonight.” Of course, life is too good to be true. Where there are steep highs, there are also drowning lows. Farah purses her lips before awkwardly patting your shoulder. “Good luck.”

It was obvious to everyone how much Philip disliked you. And they tried their level best to never get caught in it. But now that you’ve been assigned to work closely with him, the office has become a ticking time bomb.

To distract yourself during lunchtime, you decide to play a chapter of Transcendent. The music brings back a fraction of the comfort you get with Gaz. The game has been your only solace lately, save for the weird dialogues that Ghost has still been saying. You start to question whether you added an AI algorithm during one of your many all-nighters.

However, you can’t bring yourself to care as much because, strangely, the game never acted up during the presentation. Maybe it was because you lacked friends, but it felt like the game was speaking to you.

“H3 w1LL p4Y”

Another out-of-character dialogue. You try to close the application, but it refuses to shut down. The screen continues to show you the emotion-lacking skull face.

“D0 not Deny m3”

The buzzing grows louder. You’ve run out of Advil. There are only so many unfortunate things that can happen to you at once. You’re afraid to go to a shrink because you just nailed down a good job, and being sent to a mental hospital amid an all-time high in your career was the last thing you wanted.

You aggressively click the close application button, but to no avail does the game shut down. You huff, trying to shut down your laptop, but it was almost like it didn’t want to. The screen continued to blare the bold white letters of Ghost’s dialogue.

“I exi5t for y0u”

You squint at your screen. Out of all the nonsensical things he’s said, this one has to be the most confusing one so far. You try to turn off your laptop by folding it and opening it again, but the game stays persistent. You start to think you’re hallucinating when the music sounds a little louder than you think.

“It’s been ten minutes past lunch. I don’t like waiting.” Almost as if on cue, the game shuts down when Philip enters the break room. You sheepishly apologize, and he scoffs as you both walk over to the meeting room to work on the project together. You try your best to keep up with his fast pace, trainers stomping as he ignores a greeting from an uneasy intern. You flash them a quick smile to show that everything is good and there’s no need for them to be worried about office politics.

He ignores you for most of the day, only ever acknowledging your presence when you show him you’re done with the tasks he had assigned you. His attitude has significantly shifted the dynamics between you two, going from coworkers to boss and subordinate.

You think it’s because of his age. He thinks it’s because you’re a meek beginner in the tech world.

His imposing form starts to unsettle you even more than before, to the point where you’re afraid you’ll get PTSD every time you see a Patagonia vest.

Weaponizing your skittish behavior was the only way out now. Killing with kindness.

“Um, Philip,” you mumble, shifting the equilibrium of uncomfortable silence to an even more awkward initiation of a conversation. He doesn’t look up from his work and simply hums in acknowledgment like you aren’t worth his attention. Like it was something you needed to earn.

“I’ve been having trouble with this one particular part of the program lately. Do you think you could take a look?”

His pupils minimize as they land on you. “Is that why you’ve been so distracted at work lately?”

“Wha—no, I’m just asking for help,” you counter.

“Right. I’ll take a look at it later. Why don’t you go through the rest of the schematics for now?” Philip’s suggestion felt more like an imposition than anything.

An hour passes by, and nothing has soothed your weary mind. The amount of work just keeps piling up, and the base of your neck has begun to gore because of your posture. Your eyes burn raw with the friction of your eyelids slowly moving.

You feel like Philip is glaring at you, so you shift your gaze to him, and he immediately looks at his computer, seemingly unbothered, but you don’t miss how his lips flatten. You’ve worked with him long enough to know he’s disappointed in you. It’s one of the only body language indicators he uses with you.

“You can’t get tired already. No one said this job was gonna be easy,” he says without looking away from his computer. It irks you how every word he says reminds you that you’re not as good as your peers. He tears down your confidence one morsel at a time, savoring each bite like a starved cannibal as he stares right into your soul.

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply, your speech filter fading into the abyss through every passing minute without sleep.

“Yeah, but your eyes say a lot. Go get some coffee from the break room,” his blue eyes flit to your computer before he continues speaking. “I’ll look at your code while you’re gone.” Translation: I’d like to be left alone because every time I see you, I’m reminded of how you joined our team without any significant experience.

“I’ll get you a cup, too,” you say before walking out the door. You do not hear him call out to thank you.

The office building is empty, and the fluorescent lights of the main office are switched off, making you feel like you’re in the bowels of a backroom puzzle. No end in sight. When you finally enter the break room, you feel like pulling your hair out because there’s no coffee left in the pot.

With a huff, you pull out the tin of coffee beans from the cabinet and place the filter in the machine to get the only medicine for your exhaustion. The sight of coffee dripping is almost harmonic, occurring at exact intervals. The sight makes you sleepy as you watch the pot from your seat at the table across the countertop.

You close your eyes so you can rest till the pot fills up. Philip can wait a little while since he’s determined to finish his work.

–

You can see morning light through the window when you wake up. Your heartbeat instantly picks up speed, guilt, and embarrassment fueling your sudden energy to jog to the meeting room where you and Philip were working. There’s no one at the office yet, so your footsteps echo.

His computer and workbag are gone, leaving just your things scattered around.

You begin to panic. Maybe he was right after all. Maybe you were not cut out for this type of work, and you didn’t have the grit.

Embarrassed, you walk up to your things to tidy them and head back to your desk. Since you’re already at work, you might as well leave at the end of your shift.

While packing, you notice a sticky note on your computer, and when you read it, relief immediately floods your tense mind, making you relax your shoulders.

‘Don’t worry. I finished it quickly.’

There’s no signature, but you know it’s from Philip. The handwriting is weird and blocky, but you chalk it up to his eccentricity. Still, you’re surprised you haven’t received a barrage of texts from him, shooting condescending remarks at you.

Someone calls out your name before you can text Philip an apology.

“Have you been here all night?” Farah asks. You turn around, embarrassed that you couldn’t straighten up your frazzled appearance when you had the chance.

“Um, yeah. Philip and I had a lot of work to do,” you answer, running your hands over your hair and resting them on your neck, which was even more sore than the night before because you had fallen asleep on the table.

“I see…” Farah looks away momentarily as if contemplating something, before clasping her hands together, jolting you out of your exhausted daze. “Well, you look like shit–no offense–so why don’t you stay home for today? I’ll email your assignments to you. Just make sure they’re done by nine am tomorrow.”

Because of the dry winter air, you wring your hands, and your skin feels rougher than usual. “Are you sure? I don’t think Philip would like that. I’ve just started, too,” you weakly reason, but Farah only shakes her head to refute you.

“He was making you do all that work for no reason. Speaking of which, I think he’s due for a meeting with HR for his behavior. Don’t worry too much, and get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The bus ride home is bleak, but it’s just what you need to escape from the overstimulation all your senses are feeling. Your muscles ached to rest on your soft mattress, and your eyes begged to be free from the shackles of your blue-light glasses (Gaz always said that the whole science behind them was a myth, but you chose to wear them anyway).

The sight of your blanket-covered bed entices you, but you can’t help but refresh your inbox for each and every email account you have before going to bed. But still, zilch.

You even tried using different devices, but even then, there’s no word from Gaz. The morning gets chalked up to a quick shower and a nap that is immediately followed by.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon Riley x reader smut #ghost/reader #simon riley/reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley cod #cod x reader #cod smut

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nastyaromatherapy · 2 years ago

Note

can we get dark ethan where he takes reader’s virginity through non con? sorry if this request is too dark only if you’re comfortable with it 💜

Unwanted encounter (18+)

Ethan your econ partner, loves the idea of taking your virginity.

pairing - ghostface!ethan landry x cheerleader!fem!reader

one shot length, 2.2k+ word fic

warnings: non con, first time, minimal knife play, hair pulling, creampie, reader is smart w an airhead personality, pervy ethan

read more cut isn't working so sorry for that 🌚

Your professor partnered up you and Ethan for an Econ project. Ethan at first, was not at all thrilled. You were popular, didn't care much about grades, and had the douchiest boyfriend.

He on the other hand, actually wanted that A, and didn't have many friends outside of the core four. He wasn't that close with them either. You wanted that A too, he just wasn't aware of that. He already created a version of you that was untrue in his mind.

But when the day finally came, and he was over at your house, he realized how wrong he was about you. He realized that you were actually really smart, nice, and funny. You actually had a personality.

He asked to see all of the research you've conducted, and you showed him pages of notes. "You're smarter than you look y/n," he teased. You rolled your eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, taking offense. "I mean you look like the average cheerleader that's fucked more then half of the football team."

You gawk at him and his incel driven ignorance. "I haven't even fucked my boyfriend on that team," you corrected, annoyed. "I'm a fucking virgin- you know nothing about me." He went silent not knowing what to say, but the thought of you never being taken like that before made him throb in his jeans.

"Fuck I'm sorry, it was just a joke." He apologized, voice getting quieter the more he spoke. "Joke," you repeated, clicking your tongue. "Just get the fuck out of my house, my boyfriend 'll be back soon. He's not going to be too happy with you here. He doesn't like dogs on the bed," you snark, pointing to the door.

He looks at the ground and apologizes under his breath again before leaving the room.

Your boyfriend didn't come home. He texted you, "Gonna be out a little later than usual, emergency with the guys." You believed him, Ethan knew he was out fucking some girl. Guys like him can't live with abstinence.

Ethan sat at home, jerking off to videos of you on the sidelines in football highlights. He groaned whenever your skirt lifted up when you jumped, exposing some of your dark navy panties.

He had to know how it felt to be inside you. How tight you would be, never been stretched before. He imagined your moans, begging to be slow your first time, loving the way he impaled your cunt.

He pumped himself faster, getting closer to the edge, imagining his hands were your soft, delicate ones. Then his mind wandered to other places, how would your lips feel, wrapped around his tip? He came just at the thought, shooting ropes onto his grey sweats.

He just had to feel you, he had too. So, he put on his black robe and mask, the one he planned to use to execute Sam, Tara, and the rest of their friend group with. But today, he had other plans.

He creeped to your rich boyfriend's house, seeing you in bed reading a book in the window. You were listening to god knows what with your airpods, bopping your head to the music while highlighting pages of the book. He gave your phone a ring, and he watched you doubled tap the earbud to answer. "Hello?" You asked with that sweet voice of yours he relished in. "Hello y/n," he asked using the voice changer. "Hi!" You respond bubbly and obliviously.

"Watcha listening to?" He asked huskily. "Ariana Grande," you giggled out. "Who's this?" You ask the mystery caller. "Oh only your biggest fan," he replied, voice smooth. "I look forward to seeing you every game, you're my favorite." You blush at his creepy compliment, continuing to annotate the quotes in the book. "Thank you, I work hard. But seriously.. who are you?" You repeat.

He chuckles to himself, "What? You want to see me? Want me to show myself?" You shake your head giggling, unaware of the danger coming your way. "No, I just need your name." You said.

"Need," he repeated. "Y'know what I need at a time like this? A warm cunt I can stretch out," he groaned. Bewildered, you check your phone to see who called, no caller ID. "Uh, what?" You awkwardly chuckled, growing uncomfortable.

"You're a virgin, right y/n?" He asked. You nodded, unaware you were being watched, but you did it subconsciously anyways. "You ever thought about it? Getting fucked by a cock?" He asked through the phone. "Of course I have. But it's never been the right time, y'know? I want my first time to be special."

As you spoke Ethan snuck his way into the house, making his way towards the room where you basked. "Trust me," he spoke, breath heavy. "It will be," he finished, stepping his way into your doorframe.

You screamed out, scared, shaking uncontrollably. "Oh my god! Get the fuck out I swear to god, my boyfriend will be back soon, and he will not be happy with you." He tilted his head, knife in hand. "And you think he's happy with you?" He asked, plunging onto the bed, mounting the top of you, struggling to hold you down. He started to graze the blade of the knife against your jaw. "Every weekend," he drags out, still using a voice changer through the mask. "He goes missing. He goes to the sorority house and knocks up a couple of sisters."

You tear at the news, not wanting to believe it. "You're lying!" You spit, trying to escape his grasp to no use. "No, doll. I am telling nothing but the truth." You reach up to try to pull the mask off to no use, he pinned your arms down onto the bed. He sighs and gets up off of you, pointing the knife at you so you stay put.

He places a camera on the dresser, facing the bed. "What'd you say we get back at him, hm? We make him a little movie, and he see's how good I fuck you?" He said, climbing back onto the bed. You cry, "Please no." You shake your head with tears streaming down your red cheeks. "Please fucking yes," he mocks, reaching up your nightie.

You gasp when his gloved hands grasp your body, making their way up to your breasts making you whimper. "Your boyfriend ever touch you like this?" He asks. You shake your head a no in response, sniffling a little.

His hands moved down to your delicate lacy panties, slipping them off swiftly. You gasp as the cold hair hits your pussy. He takes the gloves off of his hands and tossed them onto the floor before toying with your folds. You weren't soaking but you were getting there, wetness dripping out of your pussy.

He attempted to slip a finger inside but you were so goddamn tight. You whined having nothing ever been in there before, not even a tampon. He finally got one in and you moaned out, kicking your foot a little. "Easy," he whispered, trying to make room for another finger. You were much wetter on the inside then out. "Please, if you want to live just s-stop. My boyfriend will actually kill y-" You were cut off by your own moan when he slips in his second finger.

You moaned at his big fingers, extremely sensitive. "No, stop- Ethan," you moaned out. His face shot up when you said his name. You noticed his reaction. "You don't even have to hide it," you said breathily, chest heaving. "I've never told anyone I'm a virgin." With that he slips the mask off, revealing his cute but devilish face and sweaty curls. He bit his lip and curled his fingers deeper inside you making you screech.

You shook your head a no as you felt yourself grow close, but your body was going against your protests, molding itself against his touch. "Ethan please s-stop," you pleaded as your thighs started to clench. Your hips completely contradicted your words, bucking into his fingers before letting out a final scream and secreting fluids onto his fingers and your sheets. He inhales before leaning down and sucking your clit, extending your high.

You huff and puff, chest rising and falling. Ethan pops off of your clit and goes for your lips, kissing you. You don't kiss back, trying to retract your lips as much as possible. You couldn't deny he was a good kisser, but he broke into your house and fingered you against your will, and made you orgasm.

"Come on, baby," he grunts into the kiss. "You can't deny I'm the best you've ever had." You shake your head when he finally pulls away. "You're the only I've ever had! Please Ethan, I love my boyfriend, I don't want this." You cry, but he keeps groping you through your dress anyways, making you throb again. "Well maybe I don't care what you want. I care what your cunt does." He says, kissing at your neck as he continues to toy with your heavy, cloth covered tits.

Your nipples grew perky and you moaned as he sucked on that sweet spot on your neck. He left a mark on your neck and pulled away, then he started to pull down his pants. After that he took off the whole costume, leaving him naked on your bed. "You look so sexy in that dress, but you're going to have to take it off." You shook your head a no. "No?" He mocks. He picked up his knife from the side. "Guess I'll have to cut it off." Your eyes grow wide, not wanting to ruin the expensive gift from your boyfriend. "No!" You yell, stopping his actions. "I'll take it off," you say weakly, pulling it over your head.

"Good girl," he cooed. "God you're beautiful." He groans, pumping himself in his hand, eyeing your pretty, dainty tits. "Come on, try it," he urged, guiding your hand to his length. You wrapped around him perfectly, hand more gentle than his own. He groaned as you jerked him, feeling disgusted with yourself. On your boyfriends bed, giving your econ partner a handjob.

He groaned and grew more desperate, needing to be inside of you more than anything. He removed your hand from him. "Turn around," he spoke, motioning you to face the headboard. You choked on tears, complying worriedly. He pushes your face into your pillow and guides your ass up. He grabs the knife and grazes it along your back, making your spine shiver.

"Ethan please, we can forget about this, I swear." You beg, but it doesn't stop him. Ethan teases your opening with his tip making your mouth agape. You involuntarily start to push back against him, scooting your ass back to meet his cock. "Slut," he remarks, slapping your ass cheek leaving it a bright red.

He grips your ass with his hands, making you suck in air a little, before he pushes in a little more than the tip. You groan at the stretch, face contorting uncomfortably. He let you adjust a little, only using the tip for a solid minute. "Ethan please stop, it hurts s'much," you whined. "Hurts? I'm not even halfway," he chuckled out, continuing to fuck you with his thick, pink tip. You cried, stomach bubbling up from the stimulation.

Your wetness seeped onto his cock, making it easier for him to ease his way all the way in, slamming his hips against your ass making you bite your pillow, screaming into it. "That's it," he whispered, slowly thrusting in and out of you. You moaned into the pillow, arching your back.

He grunted and started to get rougher, slamming his hips against yours, every thrust making the bed frame hit the wall. He gripped your hair and pulled your head out of the pillow, your face covered with tears. You moaned, gripping the sheets behind you while taking him from the back. You felt yourself getting close again, stomach tightening as you felt the sensation of having to piss. He felt you clench around his length and whispered in your ear, "Cum on my fucking cock, slut."

In response to his words you screamed out as you came around his cock, leaving a creamy ring around his base. He let go of your hair, letting you collapse back onto the bed. He continued to hold your ass up, continuing to hit it roughly, groaning at every one of your throbs. You started to salivate a little against the pillow due to your excessive whines.

He wiped the sweat off of his forehead while panting, getting close. His thrusts through sloppy and less uniformed. "Gonna breed this pussy, and you're gonna wish I was in you every second of every fucking day," he spat out, huffing and not being able to hold back any longer. With a final thrust, he came deep in your cunt, shooting spurt after spurt inside you. After he pulled out, his cum dripped out of you followed by the sound of flatulence.

You laid there and didn't even realize how much time has passed. Ethan disappeared through your window that was now open with his camera with everything documented. Through the window, you saw lights of a car, and soon your boyfriend stumbled in, eyeing your cum dripping cunt.

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