#Hopefully I explained this correctly

[duskthestars]

question, how does one turn back from a pet regression

Pretty much like in normal regression, if you dont feel little anymore then you are back in your usual headspace. Same here, if you dont feel like a baby animal anymore you return to your human form.

Pet Regressors in this au dont really transform when they want to, only when they feel little

[racke7]

Exam hit me with two concept that I've literally never heard of (or at least never been explained to me).

"semantic html" -> the <> with things like "img" and other clearly-defined content to them.

"dependency injection" -> a method that receives objects, instead of creating them from scratch (aka, literally how all of our programming is done).

Thankfully, they only amount to 15% of the exam-result, so hopefully I'll still pass?

[yujeong]

Writer's ask game: 8, 16, 24, 32.

For #100/wildcard: We're one episode into 4 Minutes. Is there a character that you're already drawn to or excited to write about? Or a detail from the show so far that you're eager to explore in your writing?

Hiiiii! OMG, thank you so much for sending me this, what a pleasant surprise in my inbox 🥺❤️

8. What’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? Do you seek it out? How well do you take it?

Hmm, it depends on who gives it to me and why. If a friend notices a typo or a grammatical mistake - as I do tend to make those - then I'll be happy to be informed, although now that I have my brilliant beta reader to help me, I don't think any of them slip out. In general, I do seek out feedback from them in all the stages of my writing (from the construction of the fic idea, to the characterization, the prose, the editing, the research of the topic, all of it), which happens a LOT - you should see the comment chains on my docs honestly - and for that reason, I wouldn't like receiving a comment on my fics with constructive criticism. I don't see the point when I have people I trust to ask for things like that. I rarely receive comments as it is, so I'd prefer it if people mentioned the positives, how much they liked the story and why. For everything else, I have help + Tumblr, if they want to ask me questions or talk to me about anything.

16. Where is your favorite place to write?

This is going to make me sound like a psycho, but I love writing on my phone while on public transport, especially on the underground train. On my laptop, I can't get into the mindset to write often, especially the last couple of months. I just can't focus much. Normally, when I'm writing on my phone, it's part writing, part editing already-written text. I also write a lot on my notebook, which can also happen on public transport (yes, even smut).

24. On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

I'm a very inconsistent writer for this question I'm afraid, I don't have a schedule and it can be days or even weeks before I type words on a doc. But, since you asked, assuming I could keep writing even a little on the daily, I'd say it's between 100-300 words, unless I get super inspired and it goes up to like, 500.

32. Do characters influence your writing style?

Oh, I love this question. For me, I'd say yes and no. No because I believe my prose is...hm, simple and there's not much of a style there? So, even if there are changes between POVs, it's still essentially the same to me.

But also, yes, because every character's POV is different; they talk differently, they notice different things, their headspace varies and all that reflects on the prose. I'll give a few examples:

- Macau's POV is, for lack of a better word, more word-y: he has a lot of thoughts and a lot of anxiety, so it includes longer sentences and it's more emotional. Just an endless flow of angsty thoughts and a lot of casual dialogue, especially towards people he dislikes or doesn't trust,

(Pete doesn't immediately follow him; he's talking to Porsche a little further away from the car, who for some reason is at the main family compound today. Macau doesn’t know why. He got a brand new home as a reward from his uncle, didn't he? He can go there and spare Macau from having to look at his stupid face.)

- Vegas' POV is heavy, with thoughts that aren't always directly stated, due to Vegas being a coward about them. So, his POV does include longer sentences, though not constantly, it includes subtlety, tension, aversion to face himself and it's just generally a more charged reading experience than other ones. Also, my man is very dramatic, so the prose becomes dramatic, too,

("There are days when... when I can't control it," he whispered, as if to prevent Pete from being able to hear him, as if to keep the ugly truth to himself. It was a foolish thought. Pete was able to hear everything, sometimes even things Vegas hadn’t actually said, but were festering deep inside his heart.)

- Porsche's POV is way less heavy, more playful and very observant some times, while not at all observant other times, so there are details that will be missed through his eyes, especially if it's an uncomfortable truth he'd rather avoid. His dialogue is also more casual; he's like Macau in that regard, but his is less childish,

(The moment they're on their own, Pete’s movements become almost manic as he lights his cigarette and inhales sharply, holding it with trembling fingers. Porsche can only look in awe of the shift in Pete's demeanor. Was he like this the whole night and Porsche just didn’t notice?)

- Kim's POV was one of the trickiest I had to deal with. This kid is a LOT: he's incredibly observant, closed off, anxious, suspicious of everyone and everything, avoidant of his own feelings, he yearns for something he doesn't know how to name, and all this makes every single word in the prose carry many different meanings, which as a writer you have to smoothly include,

(Pete flinched. Kim hadn’t even used that much force and Pete flinched. It made that indescribable feeling settle between Kim’s lungs, preventing him from breathing normally.)

- Now, Pete's POV is the hardest and the most challenging, but it's the POV I love writing from the most. He's a person who's not a person, so I try to reflect that through my prose; I've written a whole fic through his POV in which his name is never mentioned. Short, punchy sentences are what I normally write with him, aversion to state the obvious, aversion to acknowledge hurtful things or twisting them into seeming normal or acceptable. I could go on and on about him, but I'll refrain from making this post longer.

(He heard his name. It sounded so strange coming out of Vegas’ mouth. Like it didn't belong there. Like he said it by mistake in his effort to call him something else.)

NOW, for the 100th question, I'd act surprised that you asked me about 4 Minutes, but I think my blog activities have made it quite evident there's at least potential I'll get inspired to write fic for it hahhah.

As it's become tradition with every BOC production, the side couple has grabbed me by the throat. KornTonkla is insanely juicy to me and Tonkla even more so, because we didn't get as many details about him as we did about Korn. What is his work? How did he end up becoming Korn's sugar baby? Why does he still want to work even though Korn is paying for everything? What was the whole deal with the black cat in his apartment? So, so many questions and such potential for exploration in fic form. So, you can expect a fic or two about KornTonkla from me, or maybe even sth solely Tonkla centered, we'll see ❤️

[cinnabeat]

not to be like those people that are incapable of understanding that dialogue tags are not meant to be 100% literal but i have no idea what mutter is supposed to sound like

[reidrum]

hypothalamus

note: this is just me reidsplaining neuro i fear. and being horny. sorry? inspired by my real life final that i so bravely studied for without spencer's help </3

summary: in which spencer gets creative on helping you study for your exam

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fem!reader, fingering, p in v sex, heavy praise kink, neuroscience jargon

wc: 2.3k

apologies in advance if it sounds too sciencey it is unfortunately the side effect of a woman in stem. bunsen burner! (divider by @firefly-graphics)

The dry erase marker crumbs stick to your hand as you angrily erase the whiteboard again, internally groaning as you restart drawing your diagram hopefully correctly this time. It’s not. After another few failed attempts you slump back in your chair and huff out in frustration, too deep in your sulk to hear the front door open.

“Hey I’m home!” Spencer calls out, bending down to remove his shoes.

“In the study.” you grumble out, a surprise he even heard you when he walks in a minute later. His gaze softens as he takes in the scene. Your notes strewn across the table, your whiteboard dark with marker smudges that match the side of your hand in which you used to erase it. The exhaustion clear as day on your face and the hint of defeat in your eyes is enough to draw him closer to you.

“Oh baby, what’s wrong?” he says softly.

You sniffle, not exactly crying but the stress was bringing you to the brink, “S’nothing, just trying to study and it’s not working. Feel dumb.”

He sighs and rounds the desk, sitting on the edge and reaching for your hands as he looks down at you, “What did I tell you about saying things like that?”

“To not to.” you mumble.

He laughs softly, “Well, yes. But it’s because you’re too hard on yourself. You were just explaining all of this to me yesterday.”

You whine, “I know and it feels like I forgot it already!”

“Maybe you just need to approach it differently,” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “Your whiteboard isn’t helping?”

“No,” you sigh, “I keep drawing it wrong and it’s frustrating me.”

The despair in your voice makes his heart ache, and all he wishes is to be able to take it away. Spencer remains deep in thought before something clicks in his mind, you see the shift in him but you’re unable to discern what epiphany he’s reached. His eyes sparkle with mischief as his entire demeanor changes, “I think you might need a different type of visual.”

Your eyes squint in confusion before you realize what he’s getting at, and you can’t help but laugh. “You’re not serious? This is a joke, right?”

He doesn’t break eye contact, “Humor me.”

The laughter dies down on your tongue as you take in and consider the very intentional nature of his words. “How so?”

“You’re studying brain structures right?” you nod, “Okay well, what better way to study than with some active learning?” 

You couldn’t look less convinced. Spencer chuckles, reaching for your hand to switch places with him so he’s seated on the chair. You move forward hesitantly, he holds a hand out to gently pull you closer while using the other hand on your hip guides you onto his lap. You part your knees on either side of him and situate comfortably on him, arms slinking around his neck.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

You soften, “Hi. Are you sure this isn’t a ruse to get me in bed?”

“Oh come on, we’ll kill two birds with one stone. A lot of the hypothalamic functions are very important during intercourse,” he trails his fingers up and down your side, “You’ll get to study with a real life application and relieve some of your stress.”

You move your hips slightly, smiling when you feel him harden beneath you at the simple movement, “Alright, I’m game.”

He matches your grin and presses a kiss to the base of your jaw, “Need you to help me with my pants for this to work, baby.”

The soft kiss already sends you into a dizzy fit, nodding mindlessly as you scoot back to allow yourself space to work on undoing his belt and zipper. You aren’t even sure what his plan is, but if it keeps him talking to you like that you’re afraid there might be nothing you won’t do for him. Spencer’s eyes are focused on you while yours are focused at your handiwork, unable to resist slipping a hand in and palming him through his boxers.

“Ah—h baby, not yet.” he hisses at the contact, reluctantly removing your hand, “S’about you remember? We’re studying. So, tell me something about the thalamus.”

“Okay, the thalamus functions as a relay center for both sensory and m—oh—tor functions.” you moan feeling his lips attach to your neck, slowly marking a path down the slope of your nape with chaste kisses.

He looks up at you briefly, smiling smugly, “Why’d you stop? Keep going.”

You clear your throat as he continues his descent towards your shoulder, motioning for you to lift your arms so he can take off the shirt you’re wearing. His lips immediately reattach before he stops in place once more, brown eyes peering up at you knowingly amid your silence.

“R—Right, so there’s a structure called the lateral geniculate nucleus, fuck.” you curse feeling him suckle a hickey into the crease of your neck.

“Yeah?” he mumbles, “And what does it do?”

His lips descend further down, teasing the lace edges on your bra. You yelp as he nips playfully, “It um, it helps send um…visual stimuli to the brain, right?”

A wicked grin spreads on his face, “That is right, smart girl.” His fingers trace the outline of your bra to the back where he expertly unclasps it, letting it fall to the floor. “You keep getting it right, and I’ll reward you each time, yeah?”

You nod hypnotically, eager to please him and seek his rewards. A soft gasp leaves you as you feel him latch onto your breast, letting his tongue swirl around the peak of your nipple and feeling it harden under his touch. You tighten your arms around him as he latches onto the other breast, moaning softly as he makes sure to give it the same special attention.

You grind your hips down and he lets out a low groan,  arm tightening around your waist, suspending your movement. “Can’t do that, sweetheart” he strains, “You gotta earn it.”

Another whine leaves your throat, dropping your head to his neck. He really wasn’t making this easy. “Okay, so ask me something else then.”

His nose brushes up the length of your neck before his hands reach for the notes behind you, “Anterior nuclei of the thalamus.”

Before you get a chance to think about the answer, you’re distracted by his wandering hands again. Only this time, they’re going down towards where you really need him.

“Spence,” you say breathlessly, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure for a moment.

“Nuh uh,” he pauses his ministrations, “Answer first, reward second. I told you the rules, don’t make me repeat it.”

You whimper and Spencer almost folds—almost. But for the sake of your education, and definitely not the way you look perched on his lap, he treks on.

He does feel a little pity and decides to show you a bit of mercy when he motions for you to lift up slightly so he can pull your pajama shorts all the way off.

“That feel better?” he whispers, hot breath fanning your face. You nod hastily. “Okay then. Anterior nuclei of the thalamus.”

“Um…the anterior nuclei is responsible for—“ your breath hitches as his finger traces the edge of your panties. “Memory, right? Hippocampus.” you rush out.

You feel him smile and nod, “Correct,” his finger hooks onto the fabric and pulls it to the side, the cold air not even hitting you before he swipes through your folds.

Your head drops to his shoulder as you let out a shuddering sigh, peppering kisses up his neck as his fingers provide the much needed attentiveness you needed. He chuckles softly, “Just relax. You’re doing good, pretty girl.”

He helps you remove your underwear, maneuvering you so he can smoothly slide them off your legs. His fingers collect the slick and glides up to circle your clit, grinning when he hears you whine loudly. He continues to move across your pussy before retracting his finger while you let out a soft whimper. You’re about to protest when you see the intention of his removal, watching his hand slip below his boxers to gently pull himself out. He gives himself a few pumps before laying flat against his body, guiding your hips so your cunt is flush with the topside of his dick.

He holds your hips down preventing you from moving, “Hypothalamus?”

The cock drunk state is getting to you and he’s not even inside you yet, “It’s a um…it regulates…stuff.” you trail off, his lips returning to your neck.

He sucks another hickey onto your neck, licking over it and pulling back to gently blow on it. “Not good enough,” he whispers, “Try again.”

You whimper, “Okay—Okay, it sends signals for…sympathetic response—fight or flight” the end of your voice lilting up as he begins to move your hips.

“Keep going.”

The sensation of your cunt sliding up and down his length is enough to send you into delirium, and you’re honestly impressed you’re still able to speak. “It also does,” you take a deep breath for regulation, “It signals appetite and eating…and…”

He slides you forward enough so the tip of his cock is barely breaching your entrance, “One more, pretty girl.”

You rack your brain as you try to force yourself to focus, and not think about the way his tip is stretching your opening, teasing you relentlessly. The answer comes to you in a lightbulb moment, “Intercourse,” you moan, “releases hormones for sex.”

Spencer grins again, “Good girl.”

He lifts your hips a little, and the shift in angle is enough to fully slide himself inside you, the feeling causing you both to moan in tandem. The stretch of his cock inside you splits you apart beautifully, making you feel so full.

You whine his name again as you try to move, getting louder when you realize his hands are still clamped to your side, holding you square in place, “Wanna move, please.”

“Oh baby, you know I love it when you use your manners,” he touts, pressing kisses up your chest, “One more question and I’ll give you what you need, okay?”

You nod quickly, waiting impatiently for his last question.

“Tell me the two hormones made in the hypothalamus.” he whispers against your skin.

“I know one is antidiuretic hormone…” you breathe out shakily, “But, there’s one more I can’t remember.”

“I’ll give you a hint.” his hands slowly begin to guide you up and down on him, a languished moan leaving your throat. The feeling of him pushing against your cervix is so detrimentally distracting, like all you’re focused on is the pure euphoria your body is chasing. It’s clouding your judgement, your senses. It’s all consuming as the pleasure spreads throughout you.

Wait.

Oh.

Spencer seems to sense that you’ve reached an answer and thrusts up into you, “Ah—Knew you’d get there. What is it, baby?”

You let out a sharp gasp before answering, “Oxytocin.”

He doesn’t give a verbal praise but his face splits into a wide grin, finally loosening the grip on your hips and allowing you full reign to chase your peak. You brace yourself on his shoulders and increase your pace, his hands returning to your sides facilitating your movements.

“Such a smart girl you are, baby,” he coos, “Taking me so well and getting all the answers right?”

“Spence…”

“You’re just so good, angel. My beautiful, intelligent girl,” he continues to praise, feeling you clench around him, “My good girl, isn’t that right?”

Any and every neuronal connection in your brain is fried at this point, melded down to nothing but atoms at the hands of Spencer Reid, clearly reveling in your fucked out state as evidenced by your incoherent babbling. His hands grip your sides tighter and pulls you harder when you sink down, the sound echoing throughout the study.

“ ‘m close,” you mumble as you slump into his shoulder letting him fully takeover. He stills his movements for a second before standing up with his hands under your legs to sit you on the desk in front of you. Your hands detach from his shoulders and hold you up from behind as you lean back and let Spencer pull your body towards him.

He continues to fuck into you, the new position allowing him better control for calculated thrusts and a faster pace. Words don’t exist in your lexicon anymore and you hope he can understand your babbles as you attempt to communicate with him that your orgasm is about to overtake you entirely.

He knows, obviously, because it’s you. He slides a finger down to your clit to further drive you to the edge, leaning down to whisper, “Come for me, baby. You’ve earned it.”

With a high pitched whine you crash into your peak with the full force of your body, vision temporarily going white before returning in splotchy spots. Spencer comes not too far behind you, fucking the last of his come into you before stilling completely.

You both pant heavily as you try to catch your breaths, and Spencer leans forward to rest his forehead on yours. “You alright?”

“I think you fucked me dumb.”

He laughs breathlessly, “Actually, I think I fucked you smart.”

You swat his shoulder lightly and laugh, “That was so bad.”

He smoothes your hair back before gently pulling out, using your discarded shirt to clean you up a bit. His lips press a kiss to forehead, then your nose, both cheeks, before landing on your lips kissing you deeply.

You pull back suddenly, “Wait, I still have like, five more sections to review.”

Spencer’s wicked grin returns. “Well, we better get to work.” He effortlessly picks you up from the desk as you giggle and wrap your legs around him. He reaches the bedroom and delicately tosses you on the bed, looking down as he stands over you at the edge.

 “Gotta make sure you get that A, pretty girl.”

[mommyslittlebird]

The Desire to Nurture

Married!WandaNat x Reader

Summary: While settling into to your new living situation, you come upon an opportunity to be the one to taking care of Natasha, instead of the other way around.

CW: Mentions of injuries, white coat syndrome

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I apologize this one is still pretty short. I’m really struggling with platonic fluff and pacing things correctly, but the chapters will hopefully get longer as I get into things I’m more familiar with writing (i.e. romance and smut).

A/N: I got a little emotional at the end of this one.

Chapter 4 of A Room of Your Own

———————————————————

Settling into the house came easier than you anticipated. The days flowed in an easy rhythm of classes and time spent with Wanda and Natasha. You grew close to them rather quickly, perhaps by necessity or perhaps by some other worldly force pushing you together. 

It was almost like a “love at first sight” type of situation. Granted, this wasn’t quite love, but there was certainly something. There was a sort of immediate familiarity, a magnetism that you couldn’t explain. It just seemed like you were meant to be around them. 

Getting to know them wasn’t like getting to know two strangers you had only met a few weeks ago. It was like reintroducing yourself to a friend after years apart. There just seemed to be a pre-established baseline. 

You surprised even yourself with how much comfort you were finding in physical affection. You had always been an affectionate person, but most people never saw that in you. You came off as standoffish to most, and they just assumed you didn’t like to be touched. You, being a little nervous about initiating physical contact, just accepted that people didn’t want to touch you. Sure it wasn’t something you were proud of, but you had sort of come to expect it. It didn’t necessarily make you sad; it was simply a fact of your life. 

That is, until Wanda and Natasha came along. 

Wanda’s touch was always gentle. She kept short acrylic nails that she would use to massage your scalp or run down your spine. She had found a spot on the back of head and neck that would put you in a boardline hypnotic trance when she scratched it. She couldn’t help but chuckle every time she felt your body relax and watched your eyes glaze over. 

Your favorite spot on the massive couch in the living room became the leftmost armrest because Wanda's favorite spot was the leftmost cushion. You would sit slightly in front of her so she would idly rub your back while she watched tv or read her books. 

Natasha always teased you. The L shaped couch was easily large enough to accommodate 8 people and yet you insisted on sitting on the armrest like all the other seats were taken. You didn’t mind the teasing though. It was no secret you were growing fond of Wanda and loved it when she gave you attention. 

Natasha’s affection was always a lot more playful. She was certainly the less physically affectionate of the two. Sometimes it was just a little too much for her to be cuddled, and she needed a bit of space. But that didn’t stop her from giving you affection in her own little ways. 

The woman was like a walking space heater, so she was always warming up your cold hands letting you stick your feet underneath her while she sat on the couch. Not to mention, always being hot usually meant she found relief in your cold extremities. She liked to grab your wrist and put your hands on her cheeks or the back of her neck.  

You weren’t exactly sure how it started, but the two of you had a bit where one of you would fill their cheeks with air, and the other one would squeeze their face until the air came out in a funny, raspberry-like noise. 

When she was feeling particularly impish, you and Natasha would play wrestle. Mostly, it just consisted of Natasha wrapping her arms around you and picking you up while you pretended to try to get away. Sometimes she would flip you upside down and throw your feet over her shoulder, which always earned her a chiding from Wanda. 

You had adjusted your schedule to only have in-person classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You were going into healthcare, so with your general education classes out of the way, you were mostly just doing clinicals and labs anyway. You spent the other days with Wanda in her home office, silently working in the reading nook. The nook–previously pristine and untouched, flanked by two small, neatly organized–was now completely overtaken by you and your things. The decorative throw pillows were replaced with large, comfortable body pillows, and where there had been an ornamental, scratchy, wool blanket, there was now a fluffy grey throw covered in little sharks. Wanda did, at least, insist on keeping the blanket folded when you weren’t using it. 

More and more of your things were starting to find their way out of your room in general. Wanda even hung up a picture of the three of you in the stairwell. It was from a time you’d gone out for ice cream and both you and Natasha had gotten chocolate all over your mouths. Wanda had chastised both of you, resulting in her getting a sloppy chocolate kiss from Natasha, and a kiss on the cheek from you, covering her face in chocolate as well.

You started to feel less like a guest and more like a roommate and a friend.

You still weren’t exactly clear on what Wanda and Natasha did for a living. You knew they both worked for Stark Industries, though they had very different positions there. From what you had gathered, they’d actually met there when they were assigned to the same unit. Wanda had since retired to a much more cushy position that she could do from home. Natasha no longer did field work, but rather switched to training new recruits. They had talked minimally about their jobs before saying they retired because they were getting older and didn’t want to spend their time getting shipped across the world on long ‘missions.’ What these ‘missions’ entailed was still unclear, but you got the sneaking suspicion you weren’t really supposed to know. 

On one of these easy, slow afternoons, you sat in the living room with Wanda. The two of you were sitting side by side, reading, when you heard Natasha come in the garage door. 

“Well if it isn’t my two favorite ladies,” she smiled, stopping to kiss Wanda on her way in. “How���s your day been, my love?” She slung her duffle bag off her shoulder and threw it in the corner. She grabbed her shoulder, wincing and sucking her teeth as a jolt of pain shot up her arm. 

“Did you hurt your arm?” you asked, closing your book and turning your attention to them. 

“Yeah,” Natasha groans, rolling her shoulder to relieve the pain. “I’m not sure what I did to it.”

“Do you think maybe it’s ‘cause you're almost 40 and you spend your days wrestling with 20 year olds?” you teased. Wanda laughed. 

“First of all, almost 40 is brutal. I’m 38,” Natasha started, mouth wide like she was offended. “And second of all, I’m gonna wrestle your 20 year old ass into the ground.” She pounced on you, wrapping her arm around your thighs and picking you up upside down. You squealed and giggled, kicking your feet in a faux attempt to get away. After a few seconds though, Natasha gently laid you on the floor, grabbing at her shoulder again. 

You stood up and reached out to touch her. “Are you okay?” you asked, quickly switching from silly and fun to serious and concerned. 

Natasha nodded. “Yeah. I probably just need to rest it for a little while.”

“Can I look at it? That’s what I go to school for, you know,” you asked, gently grabbing her bicep. 

“I thought you were going for philosophy or some shit,” she said, taking her hand away and allowing you to move her arm freely.  

You gently moved her bicep, testing her range of movement. First and foremost, you needed to make sure she didn’t tear her rotator cuff. “I do that too, as a minor. I have an English minor as well, but those are more just hobbies.” 

You poked around at her arm for a few more minutes, assessing as much as you could. “Nothing is dislocated and it doesn’t feel like anything is torn, but you should probably get an MRI just in case-”

“No!” Natasha interrupted harshly, tearing her arm from your hand. “It’s fine. I just need to rest it, like I said earlier.” She quickly moved away from you, fiddling nervously with the zipper of her bag. 

You looked at her, confused, then to Wanda. Her lips tightened, as if she was trying to silently apologize for Natasha’s harshness. But in looking back to Natasha, you saw all you needed to know. She was afraid. Of all the horrifying things she’d faced in her life, Natasha Romanoff was scared of doctor’s offices. 

You gently approach her from behind, saying her name in almost a whisper. “Natasha…”

She turned around to tell you off, but the look she received from both you and Wanda made her decide otherwise. You weren’t angry or stubborn. You weren’t even confused. You understood. She let out a breath she had been holding and visibly relaxed. 

You both stared at each other in silence for a long moment before you spoke up. “We don’t need to talk about it. I understand,” you said in almost a whisper. “I have some things… here that might help, but we don’t have to do anything right now. I’m not gonna try to make you do anything right now.” 

Natasha looked at her feet, anxious and embarrassed. “Yeah…” she finally said. “Yeah, just… let me take a shower really quick and we can talk after.”

You both headed upstairs, her to the shower and you to your school bag. Given your field of study, you had started carrying around a small bag of medical supplies: just full of basic things you were good and familiar with. 

Natasha was out of the shower in under ten minutes and you met both her and Wanda in their room. Immediately, you could tell Natasha had calmed down quite a bit. Wanda was helping her wring out her hair while she tried not to move her shoulder. “Alright doc, what have you got for me?”

“Well, I have some menthol and methylsalicylate cream,” you said in an overly pretentious tone. “So, IcyHot, basically. And I have some kinesiology tape in…” you looked down into your pack, drawing out three rolls of tape, “blue for boys, pink for girls, and camo for… hunting expeditions? Take your pick.”

“Well, we all know I love a good hunting expedition. Give me the camo,” she chuckled. 

“Alright,” you said, dropping the other two rolls back in your bag, “take off your shirt and get on the bed.”

“Woah,” Natasha teased, “at least take me to dinner first.”

Wanda chuckled, peeling the shirt off over her wife’s head and smacking her in the torso with it. “I don’t recall you being the type that needed to be wined and dined,” she retorted, playfully shoving Natasha face down on the mattress. 

You crawled up on the bed, first kneeling next to Natasha, but then deciding it would be better to straddle her waist. You started in on her shoulder, gently massaging the sore muscles. She groaned with a mix of pain and relief. “Do you usually get this up close and personal with all of your clients?”

You shook your head, continuing to press the base of your palm into her back. “I don’t usually do this on a king size mattress.” As you started to rub the cream onto her shoulder, you couldn’t help but admire her back. She was so strong, toned with muscles from the base of her spine up to her broad shoulders. Her skin was so smooth and warm, surprisingly mostly unblemished despite her choice of career. Without thinking, you gently traced your hand down the side of her spine, taking in the soft expanse of her ribcage and shoulder blade. 

You were torn from your drifting thoughts when Natasha said, “damn, while you're up there you should just do my whole back.”

“I will if you want me too,” you replied, not quite able to tell whether or not she was joking.

“You’re very good at this,” she groaned again as you circled a particularly tight muscle. “Even when you’re pushing on it like that, you’re very… gentle.”

You smiled and blushed a little at the compliment, wiping the excess cream from your hands with a cloth. You worked your way down her spine, diligently kneading the rest of her back. She started to make little noises as you made your way to her lower back. “Mmm… fuck that feels good.”

You turned your head to find Wanda, leaning in the bathroom doorway, smiling impishly. “Careful. You might make me jealous,” she quipped, but the look on her face told a different story. She looked to be enjoying this as much as Natasha was.

The look gave you a renewed sense of confidence. You shifted slightly, adjusting your position so you were now kneeling on Natasha completely. “I don’t normally do this with my patients, but since you’re so well behaved….” You leaned forward, pressing the full weight of your knee into the muscle just above her pelvis bone. 

She hummed with delight. “Mmm, you might just be my favorite… physical therapist? Kinesologist? Is that what they call you?”

You chuckle. “I’m technically a ‘non-surgical orthopedist’, but right now I’m just your roommate kneeling on your back. This would be… frowned upon in my practice.” You shifted again, rolling off her back. “Alright, you can sit up. I’ll tape you up.”

Gently, you helped Natasha sit up. You carefully avoided looking down, fearing one glance at her bare chest might cause you to melt into the mattress. You grabbed a strip of the tape and stretched it carefully over her injured shoulder. “There. You can shower with it and everything. I’ll reapply it when it starts to come off. But you’ll have to limit physical activity and try not to lift anything too heavy. Including me, so don’t even think about trying to tackle me.”

You and Wanda helped her get her shirt back on over her head, giggling as she tried repeatedly to put her arm through the head hole. You sat back on your feet with a giddy, pleased smile on your face. It felt good to be the one helping them. You’d spent the past weeks trying to come to terms with being cared for by the two women. They had assured you as many times as you needed to hear it that they were doing this because they wanted to, because it made them happy too, but you had never truly believed them until right now. 

Sure, maybe a massage wasn’t the same as completely opening your home to and caring for a person, but this feeling, this pride, of knowing you had been able to help and bring relief was elating. You spent so much time thinking of yourself as a thing that had to be dealt with, but maybe there was some inherent pleasure to nurturing as well. You felt good. You felt useful. You felt appreciated. 

You’d read once about inmates in prison adopting pet roaches or toads because “... we all, in some form or another, have the desire to nurture.” Maybe that's what you did for them. Not in giving massages, or doing the dishes, or helping bring in the groceries, but in just existing here, for them to nurture and love. 

The weight of your burden on them suddenly felt no heavier than that of a little bug in a prisoner’s jumpsuit. You were wanted here. You always were. But you could see it now. Not in the relief on Natasha’s face, but in the smile on your own.

[the-s1lly-corner]

ADMIN IM NOT THE ANON WHO ASKED BUT I WANT IN ON THIS TOO

Artist!Reader asking the slashers if they can pose naked for a still life drawing please!!/non sexual

Jason, Michael, Brahms being asked to pose nude for artist!reader

chat dont tell anyone this but i keep misspelling michaels name and always rely on the red squiggle line to remind me to fix it i keep putting e before a notes: reader is gn, including their reactions and general feel for the request, non sexual post, short post cws: nudity

JASON

he has mixed feelings about being nude- on one hand he knows its just his natural body, but on the other hand the only time hes seen others nude is when theyre doing something sexual so naturally he cant help but tie that to his own nude body... it also makes him feel... vulnerable to you

if he does agree to it hes not going to be fully nude, and its going to take him a long while to warm up to the idea- dont pressure him, of course... will be wearing the mask, honestly hes probably more likely to get naked in front of you before he takes the mask off

tries his very best to stay still but even if hes covering his bits up he feels flustered under your gaze... even worse if youre really focusing and your face happens to scrunch- shoot him a smile and reassurance and he loosens up enough to not make his position ridged

lots of scars and markings on him to take into consideration... he does feel a certain way if you capture them correctly- a good way, of course!

MICHAEL

honestly? i can see him not caring about you seeing him naked in any context, its just him... so whats the fuss? so he agrees

stands as still as a statue for as long as you need him, it can be hours and he will remain in the same position youve asked him to get into

the mask stays on, though, you can pry it form his cold dead hands... assuming you can catch him dead in the first place... you... may have some explaining to do if someone were to find the piece.. though the odds of them escaping the house alive after is low

pretty solid choice all in all, but good luck getting him to stay if he decides to do something else, hes not going to stop any plans to stand nude for you

BRAHMS

oh you want him naked? hes already stripping down.... hey why arent you getting naked too/hj

keeps changing positions because hes never satisfied, its going to take a minute until he finds something he likes... from laying on his side on the couch to propping his chin on his hand in a mock attempt at the thinker statue- you might have to guide him into a pose that works for you... you... cant help but think it was a ploy to get you to touch and guide him how you want

lots of body hair, if youre not used to drawing it its going to give you a fun little challenge- and its everywhere, too

the only one who might take his mask off, will make eye contact the entire time youre drawing him so hopefully youre fine with that

[birthanon]

Exam in, Baby out

Answering this ask that came through my messages from @yaiofanficbombon2022: 

"The class president is in labour (Mpreg). He had a sexual encounter with the popular boy of the school and as a result of this encounter he is pregnant.

His water breaks at home at night, he wants to miss school, but he can't, so he goes to class anyway.

The contractions are intense and constant, and the baby tries to come out, but he refuses to push until the exam is over.

He ends up giving birth in the school bathroom."

I’ve aged them up to a very high school like college because even 18 yo high school students feel too young to me. Hopefully you don’t mind.

This fic contains: mpreg, birth denial, pushing baby back in, clothing birth

“Hey, pres, you all right?” Jason asked, coming to sit next to Max. 

Max grunted, forcing a smile for the man who was rather popular with the other people at their very small church owned college they both attended, and also the father of the child that was currently trying to expel itself from Max’s womb. They’d had a secret encounter in Jason’s dorm room after a particularly intense study session—and well, they hadn’t repeated said occurrences since then, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friendly. “Fine,” Max managed as the contraction that had been wrapping its way around his belly finally eased off. “Just worried about this exam.”

Specifically, he was worried about passing the final exam of his health class while also managing to keep the kid in him, you know, in him. Particularly since his water had broken last night, and he hadn’t gotten a whole bunch of sleep between the increasingly intense contractions. This was his last final of the semester, though, he just had to pass this test, or at least make it through it, and he was home free. So he’d hobbled his way to class from his dorms. It wouldn’t do for the student president to just not show up to an exam.

“You’re the smart one,” Jason said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Only it doesn’t look like you slept at all.”

“Stayed up all night studying.”

“For health?” Jason asked. “Look man, I know you’re a perfectionist and all that, but no one cares what grade you get in this class. All you gotta do is pass. It’s not worth killing yourself over.”

Max tried to formulate a nonchalant shrug. “Gotta keep that scholarshi—mmmhg.” Another contraction cut him off. He wrapped his fingers around the bottom of the desk and forced all his pain and the screaming desire to push into them instead of downward. Still the contractions were getting insistent. The force of his body pressed the baby’s head against his lips, which began to spread and sting. As soon as the contraction ended, the head slipped back inside, the stinging easing. Still, that wasn’t a good sign. The two hour exam hadn’t even started and the baby was already sitting right behind his lips. 

Jason stared. “Man, you sure you’re good?”

“I’ll survive,” Max said, trying to sound sardonic, though his breathlessness gave him away. Jason didn’t know Max was pregnant. No one did. He’d carried small, and Max was good at hiding his body in shapewear and too big hoodies. If anyone did find out, he’d definitely lose his scholarship, and probably get kicked right out of the school. It had very strict rules about sex outside of marriage, and babies don’t just happen.

Max was saved from further questions from Jason by the professor entering the room and beginning to pass out a massive pile of paper that was the final exam. “You will have one and half hours to do the question and answer portion of the exam,” the professor explained. “Then I will show a video of a live birth. As the university wants you to know how to give birth at home, with prayer and without medical intervention as God intended. You all must know how to give birth. After watching the birth video, you will be required to write a paper discussing what they did correctly and what they could have done better. Understood?”

The class nodded.

“All right then, you may begin. You have an hour and a half.”

Max reached out for the packet, grabbing his pencil and his scantron, eager to go as quickly as possible and get this over with. Two questions in, and his stomach was seizing again. Freed from Jason’s questioning gaze, Max wrapped his hand around his stomach to try and soothe it, feeling it shrink underneath the shapewear he wore. He tried not to push, focusing on breathing deeply and slowly through the pain, but the searing stretch of his nethers continued throughout the contraction nonetheless. 

According to his studies, contractions lasted about 60-90 seconds, so Max counted out the seconds in his head, one hand wrapped tight around his stomach, the other clutching his fragile wooden pencil dangerously tightly.

As soon as the contraction began to ease and the stinging stopped as the baby returned to its place just outside his lips, Max continued with the test. His contractions were coming every two minutes, lasting about a minute. Which means while the rest of his class had an hour and a half to complete the test, he only had an hour. 

The words swum in front of him and he leaned forward to get a better view of the words, curling around his stomach and triggering another contraction. Sitting forward as he was, the hard plastic chair pressed against his lips. Which gave him an idea. Experimentally, he pushed with the urge instead of trying to hold back, grunting softly as he did. The head spread him open, shooting through his stretching lips, and then stopped moving as it struck the chair. Max whined, softly, tapping out of the push early. Except this time, the head didn’t go all the way back in, it stayed at that partial crown, stretching his lips. 

Stealthily, he reached down under his desk and explored the area between his spread legs. A massive bulge of straining jeans was wedged between them, pressed up against the chair.

Max let out a shuddering breath. All right, he thought, as long as I can stay sitting down, we can keep the baby in. And thus the test stretched on, in increments of three minutes, two of answering questions, one of pushing fruitlessly into the hard plastic chair, his wet jeans bagging out with the emerging head. 

Some of the questions were about health, but a lot were about sexual health and reproduction. Labeling the different parts of the birther’s anatomy felt particularly ironic when Max could feel the stretch of so many of them, the diagram a visual reminder of how small everything had been before a baby had been shoved through it.

Another question asked which sex position was most likely to result in successful reproduction, which had him flashback to his room, with Jason leaning over him, his warm chest on Max’s. It brought a blush to his cheeks which led Max to lift his head and glance over at Jason.

Jason had been looking back, his brows wrinkled in concern, but when he caught Max looking, the face changed to a forced smile and a hidden lewd hand symbol. Maybe the test was bringing up memories for him too.

Their moment was broken by another contraction. Max forced his head down, as though he was working on his test, leaning as far forward as he could, his stomach pressing against the bottom of the desk, his crotch against the seat to keep the baby in as his whole body pushed down.

The pain was just letting up when the teacher called for their attention, and put on the birthing video. A woman moaning, crouching, her husband supporting her from behind, praying. Her stomach visibly contracted as Max’s own pain returned. Their contractions had synced up, but while she was naked and pushing freely, he was covered in clothes, unable to push or make progress. Her grunts of effort and cries of pain masked his own moans.

The voice of the camera-person ordered the woman, “Push! Push!”

And having sat at a partial crown for an hour and half, Max couldn’t help but obey, pushing in sync with the woman on screen. He leaned back instinctively, lost in the grasp of instinct. He and the woman pushed, and pushed. The babys’ heads emerged slowly, fighting to stretch out the body and, in Max’s case, force the jeans out of the way.

The woman screamed as her head reached a full crown, losing her crouch and falling backwards, caught by her husband. Max’s own softer exhalation, as his own crown, freed from the confines of the chair, reached its own crown.

The next few pushes were unfruitful. The baby’s head bobbed in the woman’s crotch as Max’s own baby fought against his tight jean crotch and lost. He wasn’t trying to hold back anymore, wasn’t thinking consciously, only knew he needed to push.

Then the head on screen gushed out, followed by the rest of the body in rapid succession, but Max’s was still stuck, no matter how he pushed and grunted. The screen went black. 

“You have twenty minutes to write your essays.”

Max panted, realizing his situation. His hand explored downward, gasping at how large the bulge was, his legs spread apart, his lips screaming in pain, stretched to their fullest, his whole body soaked in sweat.

He could not write, could not focus on writing, but he had to. So, ever so slowly he leaned forward. The head of the baby caught on the chair, then began to be shoved up inside him once more. Max shoved his pencil in his mouth, biting down hard to hold back the scream that threatened to bubble in his throat at the pure agony. 

Another, harsher contraction came, but he weathered it, biting his pencil and pressing himself down against the chair. It faded, and he tried to write. The next contraction was just as bad. His weakened pencil snapped his hand. He whimpered as the head began to emerge once more, stretching him little by little. 

It didn’t seem like he had two minutes of leeway anymore, no matter what their professor had taught. The contractions didn’t seem to end. It hurt so much. He was so sweaty, so confined. The baby was coming out again. He didn’t have the energy to push it against the chair. It was stretching his lips, so wide.

“Time!” The professor called. “Pencils down.”

Max’s pencil was in pieces before him, his essay a mess, his multiple choice portion, not quite complete. But he didn’t care. He had to give birth. He had to get out of there.

The old professor toddled around, collecting tests as Max tried to look normal after having been in active labor for fourteen hours and actively crowning for two. 

He’d had a plan, take the test, go home, give birth in his empty apartment. But as the baby reached a full crown once more, Max knew that wasn’t happening. He would at least make it to the bathroom. It was on the first floor. Max planned his route as the professor said his final goodbyes, and then, finally, finally, fifteen minutes after the test ended, released them. 

Max stayed where he was, unsure how to stand as the rest of the students burst out of the room. Another student stayed and talked to Jason, pulling his attention away from Max.

Now, Max thought. He awkwardly turned in his seat, and removed his hoodie. It revealed his very low belly, curved and sweat-soaked, but he used it to tie around his waist, hiding the massive bulge in his crotch. Then, oh so gently, he leveraged himself to his feet.

Gravity shifted, his jeans loosened a bit, and the baby dropped down just a bit further, the head stretching him wider than he thought possible. Max gasped and swayed, catching himself on his desk. Jason glanced over, clearly concerned, but his conversation partners drew him back in.

Free. Max began to waddle, slowly, awkwardly, out of the classroom. Each step was agony, his jeans jostling the fully crowned head in his pants in and out just a smidge. His exhausted legs trembled, and he kept one hand on the wall to keep himself upright. The stairs were right next to the classroom, the elevator was on the other side of the building. He could either walk the entirety twice (to reach the elevator and then walk all the way back to the bathroom at the base of the stairs), or go down the stairs. He chose the stairs.

He went down two before he realized it was an awful idea. He clung to the railing, his legs forcefully spread around the head, which brushed his thighs each time he maneuvered himself awkwardly down the stairs like a new-born deer.

Finally, red faced, panting, exhausted, he reached the bottom of the stairs and practically fell into the door of the men’s bathroom. A guy at the urinal gave him a look.

“Really gotta. . . go,”  Max panted, then stumbled into the stall and locked the door. He reached immediately for his jeans. His shaking hands fumbled with the belt. As the contraction struck, he crouched naturally, spreading his legs wider, but that only forced the jeans up tighter against his opening, forcing the head further in. 

Finally, the belt gave way, and he began forcing the jeans down. They got caught on his hips. He needed to move his legs together, but another contraction hit, and the baby descended further, its nose stretching him and popping out. The head was touching his thighs. He couldn’t spread his legs further to give it more room with his jeans, he couldn’t get rid of the jeans because of the head.

He was stuck.

Mind frozen with fear and exhaustion, he weathered out several contractions, pushing as hard as he could. But the baby didn’t move. It was stuck. The jeans had to go, but that meant. . . 

He heard speaking over the roar of his ears, but couldn’t make out the words. It was definitely Jason.

But Max could spare him no thought. The baby had to come out. Quivering, Max placed his hand on his baby’s head, feeling its wet hair. He took one deep breath, trying to get oxygen in his panic, then began to push the baby up and back it. 

It was agony. He screamed in pain. The baby kicked in protest. His stomach contracted. In the chaos, he lost his balance, falling to his knees, striking his elbow on the side of the tiny stall. 

Jason was pounding on the stall door. 

Max couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t do anything but give birth. He shucked off his jeans and boxers, spread his legs, and pushed.

The much denied baby shot out, to its ears and Max cried out again. The contraction faded, and he could hear Jason now, asking if Max was okay.

“I’ve cleared the bathroom and put a sign out saying its closed. Tell me what's going on, or I’ll call 911.”

Well, Max would need help getting out of here. And it was just as much Jason’s secret as it was his. With a shaking hand, he reached up and undid the latch, just in time for the next contraction to hit. He pushed, and the baby’s head shot out of him just as Jason flung open the door.

“Holy crap!”

Max gasped, leaning against the toilet, spreading his legs just a bit further. The dirty bathroom tile was cold. It felt good. The baby was turning inside him.

“Is that mine?” Jason asked. That health class did something for him after all.

Max could only nod. 

“Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Max didn’t have the breath for explanations. “Wanted you safe,” he gasped. “If I was. . . if they did. . .”

Another contraction. He pushed, weakly. The head bobbed forward, but didn’t move. God, he was exhausted.

Jason knelt down beside Max, his health class training coming into play. “How long have you been in labor?”

“Water broke—nngghh—last night.” The head still didn’t move. He was so tired.

“Last night!”

“Head crowned. . . just. . . just before the—” Another contraction. Max pushed with the pain as hard as he could, but the head wasn’t moving.

“Shit, man.”

Another contraction. No progress. Something was catching on his narrow hips. His body wasn’t made for birthing the way a woman’s was. “I think, I think it’s stuck.”

“I got you, give me a moment.” Then Jason left, leaving Max alone, spread wide and bare, a baby head between his legs, on a dirty bathroom floor. He flopped his head back, resting it on the toilet seat. Gross, yeah, but he didn’t have the energy to care any more.

Another fruitless contraction.

Then Jason was back. He crouched down by Max. “this is going to hurt,” he warned. Then he shoved his hand into Max’s crotch alongside the baby’s neck. Max opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He was too tired. The pain was awful, the stretch terrible. Then Jason was fumbling around in there with his whole-ass hand, pulling and tugging. Max’s hips strained. 

Another contraction began, tensing Max’s stomach which was peeking up through his shirt, which had ridden up. 

With the hand that wasn’t currently inside Max, Jason pressed down on Max’s stomach. “Push!” he ordered.

Max pushed. Jason pushed with one hand and pulled with the other. The tension, the pressure built, and built. Max was being torn apart. He was going to die. He was—

Something gave. With a gush, the crying baby shot out into Jason’s waiting hands.

The three of them sat, panting, staring at each other. “I want to raise this baby with you, if you’ll let me,” said Jason. “Only reason I haven’t been with you more is, well, I didn’t want to get us both kicked out. But I think you’re amazing and—”

Max smiled. “You’re pretty good too. Let’s do this.”

[meanbossart]

Odd question, but when you're shading your pictures, where do you put the "true" color of whatever it is you're drawing? The parts that are in light are brighter than the original color and a bit of a different color, too, based on the source. The shadows are darker than the original color and more based on the undertones of the object/hair/skin or whatever, so also not the original color. I've noticed you have a kind of gradient between the colors to make them harsh but still blend together, too. Where does the shade you're basing these off of come in?

Sorry if this doesn't make sense 🙏 I'm trying to study art styles I like to figure out how to improve my own drawings, and your page is a huge inspiration for me.

Hmmm If I understand correctly, you're asking me why you can't color pick the base tones as shown below from anywhere in the picture, right?

That's because A) I know these colors, roughly, by heart. So, Instead of picking them from the original drawing, I did what I always do and selected them manually. But also - and what I think is actually relevant for your question: B) A lot of processing takes place OVER these base colors! Let me get the spherical piece of Bhaal's sacred flesh to explain.

Here we have just the base color by Itself. Next, I add a light wash of the undertone to places like the face, ears, hands - basically anywhere the body has a tendency to become flushed. The intensity of this depends on the person and skintone, and in DU drow's case I tend to make it pretty prominent.

Next, I add the "overtone". I don't even know if that's the right term for it, but it's something that happens with very dark skintones because they tend to reflect more light. With my character, this color is almost always blue for stylistic reasons.

The base tone is still there, even though you probably couldn't easily color pick it anymore. It's doing it's quiet, thankless job: being a base!

As if that wasn't enough, out comes all the fancy stuff:

And I can get even sillier than this with more layers of shadows, multiple light sources, highlights, and so on. These colors here are just examples too - they can be pretty much anything in a similar level of brightness/contrast. All elements of the art that I want to render get this treatment or similar depending on their texture, not just the skin, so you can probably guess how they would get "lost" despite being used as a base.

Hopefully this clears things up!

[cozage]

Hi, Coza! I hope you are doing well! I miss your writings and am so excited to see your requests are open! :)

I saw a post by sunshinescribes that talked about how Law doesn’t believe in unconditional love and how he thinks relationships should be transactional. Hopefully I can properly link it here because they do a really good job at explaining it: https://www.tumblr.com/sunshinescribes/728643191573757952/i-think-the-most-tragic-part-of-laws-character-is

I was wondering if it was possible to have a scenario based off of this post of reader just appreciating and loving Law because they want to. Like maybe they’re just waking up and reader is using the rare moment of peace and quiet in bed to spill all of their love and sappy thoughts to him. He deserves all of the comfort, love, and care 😭

A/N: Thanks for this devastatingly lovely prompt! Here's the post for everyone if you want to go give it a read (and a like!) Characters: gn reader x Law Cw: none :)  Total word count: 850

There Are No Conditions

The way the light refracted through the cabin window in the morning and bounced off of Law’s ravenous hair was one of your favorite things in this world. It was one of the few times he didn’t have a scowl on his face. He rarely smiled in his sleep, but his face almost always looked so peaceful. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, and then his face turned soft again. He must have been having a good dream. 

You noticed he was starting to get a few gray hairs. He must have been under some kind of stress recently. Though he always seemed to be since you all had entered the New World. You knew he had a lot on his mind, and you wished there was something you could do to make his life easier. You wanted to bear that burden with him. 

“Do you need something?” Law’s voice came out hoarse, but his sudden alertness had startled you slightly. 

“Nothing at all,” you said sweetly. “Just admiring you in this light.”

He groaned and pulled you in closer to him. “We’re getting curtains at the next island.”

You gave an exasperated gasp, but snuggled in tightly to him knowing his threat was empty. “And you would deny me of such a simple pleasure for what? Extra sleep?”

His eyes cracked open at your words and he peered down at you. “You cannot enjoy watching me sleep.”

You gave a sheepish smile. “It’s one of my favorite things in this world, Trafalgar Law. In fact, you’re one of my favorite things in this whole world, so everything that you do is automatically good in my eyes.”

He rolled his eyes, clearly not believing you. “Flattery is a little thick today. You might want to tone it down, or I’ll catch on to the fact that you want something.”

You stuck your tongue out at his words. “All I wanted was to look at you while you sleep!”

“Freak.” He paired his words with a kiss to your forehead to show he didn’t actually mean them. 

The two of you were silent for a while. You thought he had fallen back asleep, so you occupied your time tracing over his tattoos. But after a few minutes, he spoke again.

“Okay, seriously-” He pulled back slightly to look at you. He tended to do that when he wanted to make sure you were being truthful. “What did you want to do today?”

You were never good at hiding your emotions. You knew they had all washed over your face in a matter of seconds, and Law could read them all with intense precision. Confusion. Knowing. Irritation. And then, understanding. 

“I don’t want anything from you, Law,” you explained. “I was just…enjoying the view? I don’t know how to say it correctly. I find myself staring sometimes because I find you interesting.”

Law’s brows scrunched together in confusion. “If you wanted a good view, the deck and the sea are far more interesting. Especially at this time of day.”

You gave a humorless laugh. “I love you more than I love the sea, idiot.”

He froze at those words, and you could see him struggling to make sense of them. “So you were staring at me…?”

“Because I love you,” you finished for him. 

That didn’t seem to help. “And you love me because…?”

“I don’t know!” You gave out a sharp laugh at the thought. “There are no reasons and so many reasons! But there are no conditions for my love, Law! I just love you because I love you. I can’t say exactly why I love you. I just do!”

You had really done it now. You were fairly certain you had never seen Law more confused or more flustered than he was in this moment. He gave a hard swallow and nodded his head, but you could tell further clarification was still needed.

“You don’t understand,” you said, watching his eyes turn to the ceiling. If they went there, that usually meant he was lost in thought. 

He shrugged. “I do, in a way. I feel that way about you, but I…well, I never expected someone to feel that way about me.”

The weight of his words made your heart sink. He deserved more than anyone to know how much he was treasured. You would die for him for no other reason than love. And while he could grasp the concept, he couldn’t understand why someone would feel that way towards him. 

“How about I tell you all the things I love about you?” you offered softly, trying to pull him away from his thoughts. It was too early to be thinking of such deep topics.

His eyes shifted over to you, and you could see he was half alarmed by your offer. But you could see the smallest spark of intrigue. 

So you began listing everything you could think off, absentmindedly still tracing over his tattoos. 

The sun was more than halfway across the sky before you finished. And there was a soft smile on his face during your all’s afternoon nap. 

[ryescapades-archived]

Hello Rye darling! Happy holiday season(if you celebrate) and happy almost birthday! May I have slice one sfw with Ume with number 6 (or 20 if it speaks to you more.) Also It might be early but extra good luck on your finals!! 🍀✨

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 20 - “is that my shirt?” characters: umemiya hajime (wbk) x gn!reader contents: fluff !! did i characterise him correctly here idk :/ wc ~ 1k (a few words extra but oh well)

a/n: mariii thankyou sm for participating and the kind words (and the one from my tree as well) ilyy !! <3 i will do my super duper best on my finals now thx to you >:)) and happy holidays to u too !! hopefully i did your man justice with this 🙂‍↕️

getting up late on a tuesday morning was not on your to-do-list this week.

working a morning shift as a waitress at cafe pothos alongside kotoha, you’d usually clock in a few hours before midday but you’d promised kotoha to help out with today’s opening, which means you have to be there much earlier than usual.

you had it all planned out too; wake up just as the sun rises, greet your elderly neighbours who tend to wake up at ass o’clock in the morning and maybe lend a hand or two if they ever decide today’s a good day to finally fix their broken porch lamp, and then if you’re feeling up to it, maybe grab some warm pastries from cactus as your breakfast.

well, you were supposed to do all that.

but after such an exhausting day of running errands for the townsfolk with your boyfriend the day prior, you were out cold the moment your beloved ume offered to give you a piggyback ride home. your body was so worn out that you slept even worse than the dead!

turning the corner and almost tripping on your feet on the snowy pavement, the clock strikes the hour at which your usual shift starts.

oh, you’re so screwed.

you’ll never hear the end of it. kotoha will start nagging about ditching her and will forever hold it against you (though you know it’s never going to be in malice), and you’d be labelled as a bad friend (by your own self), and she might not deem you reliable anymore (that’s what you think, at least), and - and—

“I’M SO SORRY I’M LATE!” without thinking twice, you burst through the entrance of cafe pothos, the door slamming back against the wall as you chest rises and falls rapidly from how heavily you’re breathing. you brace your palms on your thighs, feeling the cramps crawling up your muscles from the sudden morning workout.

silence meets you as a response, and you slowly raise your head after a few choked breaths. the sight that greets you makes you burn almost as hot as the sun, if not more.

kotoha with her hands holding a container of sauce, hovers in midair above a plate of omurice for sakura who sits just in front of her with his face resembling a deer caught in headlights. you can see some (or is that half of them?!) of the main furin boys are huddled together in one table, now silenced at the sight of you. your best friend blinks in surprise at your sudden appearance before she opens her mouth, “oh, you’re he—“

kotoha doesn’t get to finish her sentence.

out of nowhere there is a body barrelling towards you, knocking the air out of your lungs as the person pulls you into a crushing hug.

“Y/N, MY DEAR, THERE YOU ARE!”

your lips part in surprise just as you hear sakura chokes on his saliva somewhere in the back. “hajime?! wh-what are you doing here?” you stumble over your words, slightly pulling away from his hold.

umemiya looks at you with a particular shine in his eyes, crystalline hues gleaming with that clear adoration. you bashfully duck your head away to look at kotoha instead.

“please, don’t mind about this morning. this guy has already told me that you wouldn’t be here for the opening so he offered to help instead.” she explains while nodding towards ume, smiling as she pushes the plate of omurice towards a flustered sakura. the boy immediately digs in, trying his best to not look so visibly affected by how intimately close ume is holding you to him.

you turn back to your boyfriend, stunned. “you did that?” almost as if proud of himself, he eagerly nods, grinning so widely that even you can’t help but to smile along.

“‘course i did! you were so tired last night so i figured you needed the rest. can’t have my pretty girl deprived of her beauty sleep, now can we?” he gently croons before placing a little boop on the tip of your nose, causing you to flush under his stare.

then he perks up again as he seemingly remembers something, “oh, right! come inside, come inside! some new ingredients just arrived this morning so our amazing kotoha here has been trying out new recipes with us!” ume urges you to unzip your jacket so that he could hang it up for you, though when you do as he instructed, his eyes are immediately drawn to the baby blue sweater you’re wearing underneath.

you questioningly follow his gaze, and the two of you lift your heads up at the same time to look at each other. “is that my shirt?” he asks, head tilting to the side like a curious puppy.

the piece of clothing is obviously big on you, the sleeves running past the length of your arms and causing your hands to form cute little sweater paws that had ume nearly melted on the spot. there’s a little ‘U.H’ scrawled just at the hem of the sweater, faint and thoroughly faded from the amount of wear and wash; a habit the well-known umemiya hajime had picked up from the years he’d been living in the orphanage.

you scrunch up your nose, cringing slightly as you’re reminded of your panicked state earlier this morning that you didn’t even bother looking at what shirt you’d grabbed from the closet.

“yeah, it’s yours…” you trail off and before you know it, ume is pulling you into another hug, nuzzling your cheek with his as he rambles on about ‘how beautiful his girlfriend is’ or ‘ahh, she’s so adorable i might just die here!’ or something along those lines.

at that point, sakura is shoving all the food into his mouth like there’s no tomorrow, suo and nirei are worried over sakura, hiragi is yelling at ume to ‘at least let your girlfriend sit down first! you’re blocking the entrance!’, kotoha is shaking her head in exasperation while the others just laugh, mildly entertained at the whole ordeal.

what a way to start your morning, huh?

slipped in a lil ume hc of mine as well :>

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[jacobsbigmelons]

Jacob has the visceral need of breeding his bf

Creaking Wood

Jacob Custos x Male Reader

IM BACK CHAT (for the most part) expect hopefully more activity from me 😭

cw: Nsfw, slight alcohol consumption, jacob being fine asl, Breeding (obv), and a top bunk holding onto dear life bc it has to hold up two guys going at it…

The crackling of the fire pit, aroma of beer and whistling of the wind set the perfect scene as the summer councilors sat around the fire conversing with one another. Your conversation with Emma came to a close, though as you felt as if someone was watching, lo and behold the hunk of meat who just couldn’t keep his doe eyes off you.

You took a sip of your almost finished Corona as you stare at Jacob back, your face beginning to tingle a bit from the beer but you also can’t help but feel it’s because of your boyfriend. You both stare for what felt like slight eternity until Ryan made a comment.

“Someone’s distracted” Ryan said to your left as he directed his gaze to Jacob than back to you

“Pfft, yeah okay.” You scoffed playfully, rolling your eyes in the process as you got up as you finished off your drink, crushing it up making sure to dispose of it properly. “I’m gonna go charge my phone inside i’ll be back though!” you explained to the group as you began to walk backwards, hands up, phone in one of them.

“Ay wait lemme come with!” Jacob yelled out, not even paying attention to Abby’s warnings to be safe on the walk…or maybe that was the alcohol. He walked over as you finally turned around walking correctly, giving a slight wave to the people still around the fire.

The stairs up to the cabin you and him shared creaked with each step you guys took, the darkness not helping with illuminating expect for the occasional lamp and or phone flashlight

“So w..what made you wanna come with?” You questioned, voice barely slurred.

“I mean if you want me to turn back I can~” Jacob playfully teased as a Tsk left your mouth and Jacob began to laugh

“Dumbass you know that’s not what I mean” Though a smile couldn’t help but come through before Jacob wrapped a hand around your waist, the floors creaking as you two walked inside. Soon closing the door as he pulled you a little closer to him, your walking paused as you allowed him to just hug you for a bit. The buzz of alcohol rushed across your face in the moment, even sober you know Jacob wanted to be around or in some way holding you so a buzzed Jacob is definitely gonna be clingy.

“So how long does it take for your phone to charge?” He questioned though the tone sounded a little suggestive, you took the time to go and climb your bunk as Jacob followed behind. “It’ll take a bit for it to charge, a good bit honestly so…do with that what you will” You said as you watched your boyfriend join you on the top bunk, his arm going around you as the silence fills the air for a second.

“Their tipsy~ they won’t check on us” Jacob said in an almost mischievous tone, his arm around you slowly moving to your face to move your lips towards his, though for someone with little brains he at least knew how to be a good kisser. It didn’t take long after that for Jacob to end up giving your bunk a run for its money. Jacob’s hand had your mouth covered as you felt his other hand keeping your back arched while he fucked you into the mattress.

“Fuckk babe you feel so good~” He moaned a bit as he got close to speak into your ear, looking back he’s even wearing his backwards hat which somehow just made the whole scene better even if you couldn’t fully see your boyfriend in what little moonlight there was.

All you could do was make muffled noises as you felt him go in and out, still making sure he’s got a good hold of you but now his hands moved down to hold you by the lower back as he made sure he made it all the way inside of you by going fast and pulling out until he begins to keep thrusting. “Shit i’m close-“ Jacob said almost like he was wincing, as if he didn’t want to finish yet.

You began to push yourself back into him as you gripped the bedsheets, being just as close, you needed that last bit of effort to bring you and Jacob to the edge. The fast thrusting soon coming to an end as you felt his cum slowly dripping as he pulled out, breaths heaving as the dopamine begins to pass until you ask a question both of you need to figure out

“How do we clean this up-“ D:

[lovedontjudge535]

“Please please” KK was begging Paige to keep the stray puppy they just found. They were walking back after a Crumbl trip and found it stranded in a box near the woods.

“You know we can’t keep dogs in our places or I would” Paige had fallen in love with the dog at first sight but she needed to be responsible, Genos already on her ass about every single thing. KK had matched the dogs puppy dog eyes and was not making it easy. Of course she caved.

“Fine she can come with but no one can know AND she stays with me.”

“Ok fine but all nighter tonight so I can be with her too” KK knew she had no room to argue as she was just happy the puppy wasn’t going anywhere.

Timeski

Paige and KK snuck the puppy in with no problems. They doordashed the supplies they’d need and had her set up in Paige’s room so she could get settled as soon as possible.

“PAIGE ARE YOU HERE YOU HAVEN'T ANSWERED YOUR PHONE ALL DAY” Paige and KK looked at each other wide eyed. Azzi. How could they have not thought about the girl who spent almost every night in her bed. KK went and locked the bedroom door quickly knowing she’d be walking into the room any second.

“How is that a solution?” Paige sharply whispered to her. “Quick call her and say you need her in your room so she’ll leave” KK blindly reaches for her phone and dials Azzi contact. Once Azzi answers KK freezes and can’t get a word out. Paige tries to mouth words to her to help but it does no good.

“Azzi. Room. Help.”

“What kamorea what’s wrong are you ok, I can call your roommates to help till I get there”

“NO” Paige and KK yelled at the same time. Covering there mouths with there hands in shock. They heard Azzis footsteps getting closer to the door. She tries the doorknob and realizes it’s locked.

“What the fuck is going on” she exclaims “open the door and don’t think I didn’t hear you in there Paige”

KK went and opened the door enough for one eye to look at Azzi. “Heyyyyy girl what’s up” stick to basketball. Azzi shoves open the door pushing KK back. She catches sight of the dog supplies first.

“Explain. Now.” She was now looking at Paige’s back which was facing her. The dog was between her and the wall and Paige was silently praying she’d not bark. Nope.

“Paige Madison I know I didn’t just hear a dog. You have two seconds to turn around.” Growing impatient she grabs Paige’s shoulder to turn her. What she sees warms and breaks her heart. Paige was clutching the puppy like her life depended on it and immediately went in protective mode.

“You can’t take her from me-“ “Paige” “No Azzi she needs me, needs us. Someone left her in a box. Who fucking does that.” “Paige” “ You can’t take her from me I won’t let you. KK attack” KK immediately jumps onto Azzis back. Paige took that time to run out the room with the dog. She then realized that her car keys are in the room, which has now turned into a WWE ring of Azzi trying to get KK off.

Luckily her car was unlocked still and she sat in the car with the dog on her lap. “It’s ok I’m gonna figure this out little lady” the dog excitedly licks Paige’s cheek “you like that name little lady huh, don’t worry that beautiful girl who came is your other mommy. She’s amazing ya know. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know I disappointed her with keeping you so hopefully she will come around. I have had a bad habit of doing that recently.”

“Shut up.” Is what Paige heard scaring the shit out of her. “Let me in. Now Paige.” Paige immediately unlocks the car and let her climb in. Azzi immediately faced her.

“What are you doing, A DOG?!” “Please don’t yell it freaks Little Lady out. KK and I found her earlier today. I’ve gotten everything for her and she actually has a vet appointment tomorrow. I’ve been so stressed out with the season, she’s actually been a good distraction.” As she says that Little Lady starts licking away the tears Paige didn’t even notice had fallen.

“Well seems like you’ve been handling the whole thing correctly. But paige you know the rule.” Azzi wanted to be upset but seeing them together took any emotions away except for her love for the girl. Paige went to talk but Azzi cut her off “You’ve not disappointed me nor will you ever. KK told me everything and I won’t lie I would’ve done the same thing. Except better” she jokes causing the tension in Paige’s shoulders to deflate.

“So I can keep her”

“We will see what we can do and baby?” Paige nodded for her to continue.

“Don’t ever doubt yourself especially when it comes to us. You have never once been a disappointment and you will never not make me proud. The grace and patience you’ve given me, you need to give yourself some. The only reason I know what love is and what it feels like is because of you. You are the one person that made me risk everything for a future worth having. It's like my life isn't even real to me unless you're there and you're in it and I'm sharing it with you. We are a team and now” laughing a little at the end she added “we are a family”

[luveline]

PLEASE I NEED MORE STRIPPER READER X AARON

cw reader is able to wear hotch's clothes, adult theme mdni

Your hands ache. You have calluses on your palm, unsightly, but if you were to soak them off you'd bleed. 

The club is practically dead. You can get away with a low effort routine —old men and day drunks don't care what you're doing so long as they can see your chest. The level of undress is your choice (though the girls willing to dance fully nude get the better slots, obviously), and you've been doing this for long enough that it doesn't really bother you when a patron shouts for you to take your bra off. Your hand is slipping behind your back for the clasp when you notice him near the bar. 

Agent Hotchner —you can call me Hotch— usually catches your attention and leaves. A quick nod after he's met your eyes, he'll wait for you to get dressed and meet him out front near his intimidating car. But today he watches even after you smile hello, and someone close by throws a ten at your feet like you'd been smiling for them. He's expressionless. 

It's far more difficult to finish your dance knowing he's watching. He doesn't stay for long, ten seconds at most, but those ten seconds are much longer than he's ever watched you perform before. 

You finish your dance, collect your tips, and trudge back to the dressing rooms. You would've made more money if you'd stripped down. Not much considering the small audience, but some. You can't explain why seeing Hotch had made you stay your hand, maybe because he's one of the only men you know who treats you like you're fully human. You don't want that to change.

It's colder outside than it was when you arrived. Traffic is picking up as people leave their jobs for the day, and the club will be busier in the night hours. You'll stay, hopefully make enough for food this week. 

"Are you warm enough?" he asks immediately. 

"I didn't bring my jacket." You shrug. "I'd rather be out here with you." Than go back inside, no matter how cold. 

He opens his trunk with a click of the key fob and disappears behind the tail end. You can see his arm move, a bundle of black fabric. His arm flexes as he closes the trunk, and his eyebrows have hooked together when he returns to you. 

"Here," he says, "it should fit." 

Just a simple charcoal quarter zip. You shrug it on over your clothes and find yourself immediately greeted by the smell of men's cologne. His cologne. 

"What can I help you with today, Mr. Hotchner?" you ask. You're flirting in that useless way where it doesn't mean a thing, and he knows that, because, as you've come to find about these special agents, they know everything. 

"I wanted to ask you to dinner." 

"Oh, I don't… I don't do the escort stuff," you say gently. 

"I know." He turns his head away from you. "I realise that it's unprofessional. I know it puts you in an uncomfortable position to say no. But I want to take you out for dinner, if you'd let me." 

You stare at him. "I won't sleep with you after one fancy dinner–" 

"It's not like that." He speaks so calmly, so quietly. 

It doesn't make any sense. He's a professional man in a successful career, with a son if you remember correctly, and a circle of peers his own age and status. If he doesn't want to fuck you, if he really wants to take you out for dinner, that's a date. 

"What, you want to be my boyfriend?" you ask, shaking your head, lips pulled down in a frustrated frown. 

"I– well, if things went well, I wouldn't be opposed to it." He laughs. 

"Are you messing with me?" 

"No, I'm sorry. I just wasn't prepared for the question." 

He meets you head on. Face to face and eye to eye, he looks at you with, for once, a completely readable expression. It's a bit startling. The slight lift to his brow and his half-smile, it's an expression that says, If you want to. It puts all the choice in your hands. 

"I know we don't know one another that well, I," —his eyes soften another shade, tenderness like no one's ever given you— "wanted to make my intentions clear to you. I didn't want to continue our professional relationship and then pull the rug out from under you later." 

You know Hotch through car rides, mostly. He's taken you home from a couple of places now, usually after he's asked you questions about someone or something to do with the sex trafficking ring currently being squashed in Virginia. He's nice. You've told him without fretting about the consequences that he's handsome. When you first met, you asked him why gentlemen like him didn't come to see you dance. 

You didn't think the answer was that they might grow to have feelings for you. 

You wonder if he's just lonely. But lonely Hotch could still have a number of women that aren't you, right? 

"Like you'd never get a handle on it?" you ask, subtly teasing.

He reacts to your tone visibly. His smile gets worse, which is to say better, and his voice sounds similarly teasing as he answers, "I tried to. That's exactly what you need, another old man with the wrong idea." 

"I don't think you have the wrong idea, Hotch." 

"But you don't reject that I'm old?" 

You leap to correct him through laughter, surprised at his quick wit, and he leaps to let you know he's kidding through his own. You tell him while things are warm that you'd like to go to dinner with him, if he really means it, and he holds one of your hands like a prince, thumb ghosting over your knuckles, unafraid of the calluses on your hands. He touches you like you're made of glass. 

You try to give him back his jacket before he leaves, but he insists you keep it. "If you freeze before I get to take you out, I won't forgive you." 

Huh, you think as he drives away, waving, the sleeve of his borrowed jacket falling down your arm. Who knew Special Agent Hotchner was a flirt? 

[jassy2uall]

– Heart Like A Habit 🧡 (pt. 2)

Highschool!Billie Eilish x black fem!reader

“You're the new girl—just trying to survive another school year in a place where you know no one. But then there’s her—Billie Eilish, the infamous heartbreaker and rising star who somehow has you completely hooked, whether you like it or not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alycia slid into the seat, her movements careful as she shrugged off her book bag and placed it on the ground beside her. She could feel eyes on her before she even looked up.

Odessa, sitting across from her, watched with thinly veiled amusement. The girl behind her did the same, their silent glances speaking volumes. They weren't subtle—not really. They tried to look away before she could catch them, but she already had.

Alycia swallowed hard, fixing her gaze on the front of the classroom. She had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time they looked at her like that.

"Good morning, class," Mr. Brown said, clearing his throat.

He looked less than thrilled with the group in the back. A few guys were laughing, one of them—Jason, if Alycia caught his name correctly—launching paper balls at his friend like they were in middle school.

"Jason," Mr. Brown called out, his voice edged with warning. "Keep it up, and it'll be three weeks of detention."

Jason immediately stopped, but instead of looking guilty, he threw on a dramatic pout. "Three weeks? That's excessive, Mr. B," he whined, placing a hand over his chest like he'd been personally offended.

The class erupted into laughter, and even Alycia found herself cracking a small smile. Mr. Brown, however, just rolled his eyes, clearly used to Jason's antics. "Yeah, yeah. Just keep it up and see what happens."

Alycia exhaled slowly, sinking a little deeper into her seat. At least Jason had successfully pulled everyone's attention away from her—for now.

"Is that a smile, new girl?" Odessa teased, her devious grin widening as all eyes turned to Alycia.

Alycia swallowed hard. What does this girl have against me?

"I love your locs," Odessa's friend chimed in, her tone sickly sweet.

"T-Thank you," Alycia muttered, unsure if it was genuine or not.

"Yeah, it wasn't a compliment," the girl—Quen, Alycia realized—immediately shot back, laughing. The class erupted with her, except for one.

"That's enough, Quen," Mr. Brown interjected, his patience clearly thinning. He pointed at her and Odessa with a stern look. "Plenty of room in detention for both of you."

The laughter died down quickly, but Odessa only smirked, tapping her nails against the desk like this was just another game to her. Meanwhile, Alycia kept her gaze fixed on the desk, her face burning.

But somehow, Alycia felt like she was being watched. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made her cheeks flush.

The girl behind her was quiet, nothing like her loud, taunting friends. She hadn't laughed, hadn't joined in. Just... sat there. Watching.

Alycia could feel it—the weight of that gaze still lingering behind her—but there was no way she was turning around to confirm it. Not when her heart was already beating faster than it should have been.

Suddenly, Mr. Brown's attention shifted to her, and she knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth. She had been through this way too many times not to recognize the signs.

"Ah, new student, I see," he said with a friendly smile, walking closer. "You must be Alycia Hart."

She nodded. "Yes."

"And I hear you have perfect attendance, despite being in three different schools in the past year."

"Unfortunately," Alycia mumbled, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her.

"Kicked out?" a student in the back called out, his tone laced with amusement.

Alycia turned to him, her voice firm. "No. My mom is a travel nurse." She hated that she even felt the need to explain herself, but she wasn't about to let them assume the worst.

"Hopefully, you can travel with her again," Quen muttered under her breath, earning quiet laughs from Odessa and a few others.

Mr. Brown's sharp gaze snapped in her direction. "What was that?"

Quen barely missed a beat, her voice dripping with false innocence. "I said, I wish I could be a travel nurse." She flashed an exaggerated grin, as if she hadn't just humiliated Alycia in front of everyone.

Alycia clenched her jaw, staring straight ahead. She already hated it here.

"Alright, well, on to today's assignment."

The whole class groaned in unison, already dragging out their notebooks and computers to take notes.

Alycia did the same, though her mind was still elsewhere—on the quiet girl behind her, on Odessa's taunts, on the way her first day was already feeling like an uphill battle.

An hour later, first period was finally over, and Alycia barely had time to breathe before the next hurdle. She still had three more classes left, and no idea where any of them were.

Great. Just great.

"Umm, excuse me, Mr. Brown," Alycia said, standing up as the bell rang.

He barely had time to glance at her before another teacher called him outside.

How perfect.

Alycia let out a quiet sigh, staring down at her schedule, frustration settling in. She really should have gone to orientation when they recommended it.

"Are you lost?"

The voice was soft, calm.

Alycia's breath caught slightly as she looked up—her. The quiet girl from behind her, finally speaking.

"I am, yeah," Alycia admitted, nodding. "Do you have any idea where Chemistry 101 is?"

Before the girl could answer, Odessa cut in with a laugh. "Of course she has an idea where it is."

The girl turned back, shooting Odessa a look. "I got this," she said, her voice edged with annoyance.

Odessa held up her hands in mock surrender, still laughing.

The girl turned back to Alycia, her piercing blue eyes meeting hers. "Ms. Greene?"

Alycia nodded.

"It's downstairs on the left, cutie. A few steps down, near the bathrooms."

Alycia barely registered the directions because—cutie.

The pet name rang in her mind, the way it rolled off her tongue so effortlessly, so casually. It shouldn't have made her heart skip, but it did.

"Thank you," Alycia managed, keeping her voice steady.

"No problem."

She smiled before walking out of the room, her friends following behind—but not before giving Alycia one last lingering stare.

Just a few more hours, she told herself. I can do this.

The last two classes went surprisingly well—mostly because Odessa and Quen weren't in them, and no one else seemed particularly interested in making Alycia's life difficult.

But her luck ran out when she reached her final class of the day.

Gym.

She groaned internally, already bracing herself for the worst. It wasn't just that she hated gym—it was the fact that it was required for all first-year students, even though she was a sophomore.

As soon as she stepped inside the gymnasium, her stomach dropped.

Two familiar faces were already perched on the bleachers, grinning like they had been waiting for her.

"Oh yes," Odessa drawled, her eyes locking onto Alycia as she waved dramatically.

Quen was right beside her, laughing like this was the highlight of her day.

Alycia ignored them, keeping her head down as she found a spot on the bleachers—far away from both of them.

She exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the nerves.

Her eyes scanned the gym, not really expecting to find anything good—but secretly, hoping for one person in particular.

Was she here?

The thought crept in before Alycia could stop it. She wouldn't admit it, but the idea of seeing her again made gym class seem a little less unbearable.

A few moments later, to her surprise, there she was...

"Billie," one of the gym teachers called out. Was that really her name? It suited her, Alycia thought. The way she moved, the way she carried herself, it all made sense.

Beside her was another girl, Ava, the other teacher called her name. She had long blonde hair, light freckles, and wore a simple blue dress. But that wasn't what really caught Alycia's attention.

It was the hickeys.

Both Billie and Ava had them—dark, unmistakable marks on their necks. The sight of them made Alycia's heart sink in a way she wasn't prepared for. She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much, but it did. Seeing the marks, seeing the intimacy so out in the open, made something twist inside her chest.

Why did it matter? Why was it making her feel this way?

Everyone in the gym was whispering, giggling, and oohing at the matching hickeys on Billie and Ava's necks. It was like they were used to seeing this—like it was some kind of badge of honor, something they all knew was coming. Was it typical for Billie to be so... open about her relationships?

The teachers just shot them annoyed looks, but didn't say a word. They had probably seen it all before.

Alycia stayed quiet, not daring to look away. She watched as Ava took a seat on the bleachers and walked over to where Odessa and Quen were sitting. Quen greeted her with a playful shove on the shoulder, and they all laughed, like it was just another day for them.

Alycia silently cursed under her breath. She wished the hour and a half would end already. Gym class was the last thing she needed on top of everything else.

One of the female teachers clapped her hands, signaling for everyone to head to the women's locker room to get changed for dodgeball—of course, it was dodgeball day. Just her luck. And to make things worse, she hadn't brought a change of clothes with her.

As she stood there, hesitating, one of the girls in the locker room, a brunette with a friendly smile, noticed her dilemma.

"Hey, I've got an extra pair of shorts," the girl offered. "You can use these."

Alycia's face flushed, but she nodded gratefully.

"Thanks."

The girl smiled warmly. "No problem."

Alycia's gaze wandered back to Billie, whose eyes seemed to be locked on her once again. Just for a second, but it was enough to make her pulse quicken.

Alycia walked back out onto the gym floor, her heart pounding in her chest. The moment she stepped onto the court, she could feel the tension in the air, like everyone was just waiting for something to happen.

They were split into two teams, each one eyeing the dodgeballs scattered around the gym floor. The rules were simple: grab a ball, try not to get hit, and eliminate the other team. Nothing too complicated—just a game.

But the way Odessa and Quen were looking at her was anything but casual. They were gunning for her, their eyes locked on her like sharks circling their prey.

Billie, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. She looked like she was ready to have the time of her life, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. She was absolutely riled up for this.

Ava, who was still sitting on the bleachers with Billie earlier, was on Alycia's team. She and Billie exchanged a smile, the kind that spoke volumes—like they were in on some inside joke together. Alycia couldn't help but roll her eyes. Of course they were on the same team. It was like everything was just one big game for them.

The whistle blew, and in that instant, chaos erupted.

The gym was alive with shouting, dodging, and the sound of rubber balls slamming into walls and the floor.

The game was on, and no one was holding back.

End of pt. 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[moselettte]

Zhongli asking Cloud retainer on how to confess to you.

Cloud retainer now known as "Xianyun", Rex lapis now known as "Zhongli" were just talking normally at Mt. Aocang. Discussing the normal topics like they would. That was when Zhongli had asked a question which seemed so out of topic.

"So.. Cloud retainer.. how do you suppose I go speak up to a mortal and.. ask them out somewhere?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

"Hm? One didn't get your question correctly."

"ahem. What I meant to ask was.. how do I ask a mortal out?"

She was utterly confused. Why would he ask such a simple question. Besides not only that she knew he was well capable of talking to mortals. So.. what happened now?

"Hm. One thought you were well good on your own? So what happened now?"

"Well.. there's this mortal.. who's.. rather special to me. I want to ask her out.. except how do I make sure she doesn't get weirded out or get scared out by me?"

"..."

"..."

There was just an awkward silence between them both. Rex lapis knew how to talk to mortals perfectly fine. But when it comes to you.. he's unsure of what happened to his confidence. He neither doesn't know what that feeling is. Is that he wants to talk to you.. or is it something else..? It was bothering him ever since you both were first acquainted. He grew fond of your personality and unique traits. Except.. he found it quite hard for him to actually bring himself to speak about his feelings for you. In the first place he doesn't even know what he's feeling.

Meanwhile Cloud retainer was just an introverted person. Sure she lives a mortal life now but she doesn't know much either. So she is unsure on how to help him.

So there was just an awkward silence from both of them. Until Cloud retainer finally spoke up.

"So.. let one guess straight.. You want to talk to a person without the person getting uncomfortable?"

"Ah yes."

"One thought you were capable of doing that alone?"

"ahem. Yes but-"

"But?"

"I suppose there's no hiding then. Very well. Every time I see her.. there's some feeling that just.. makes me feel uneasy."

"Was she threatening you?"

"No. Let's just say more as if this feeling was.. hm.. I cannot describe it in words.."

"One shall say it then. You love her. That feeling is called love."

"Love?" But I've never felt such intense feelings ever before."

"That still doesn't explain anything. Rather not."

"Hm.. so how should I.. get her to talk to me?"

"Are you both acquainted already?"

"Yes. We are."

"It's simple. Just ask her out somewhere."

"That's.. the point.. she often leaves the moment I come to talk to her.."

"Hm. How about bringing her favorite flowers and asking her out?"

"Would that really work?"

"She is a mortal.. One has seen mortals do that. And it works for them.. so why not give it a try."

"Very well. I should ask her about herself.. and know more before potentially gifting her something.. it should be meaningful."

"Correct."

"Alright then. Farewell cloud retainer. I shall let you know when it works. Hopefully.."

"One shall wait for the news too then."

She said with a smile and zhongli had left. However that evening she still couldn't figure out who that lucky person was. Hopefully she also gets to meet you too.