#I couldn't write this last year; have this monstrosity.

[infernal-general]

Beginning of The End

Ink blackness crawled up her arms throughout centuries, lapping at her neck, clawing towards her heart from her shoulder. She knew the most she had was around a decade, death's caress started growing stronger on her cheek, more reluctant to let go whenever she looked back at her life to see what she'd achieved. A permanent place in her country's history. By now burning her name into Hell's as well, even after she's gone, everyone will be double checking her remains to make sure she is indeed dead.

The reformed Military District was proof of her ability to bring prosperity too, not just suffering and destruction. If only she put aside her burning hatred for this Ring sooner- no use dwelling on that now. She couldn't allow more regrets; she carried so much already, a miracle she hasn't collapsed under their tremendous weight. She couldn't allow herself to. Especially upon standing in front of the memorial wall, all men and women she'd lost twice. Metallic claws occasionally traced a name, fingers trembled slightly upon passing particularly heavy losses. He was only a child. At least she could give something truly special to the remaining warriors, a part of them, the other half of their soul in form of hellhorses.

Their horses by some demonic miracle reincarnated in the Wrath Ring and never stopped searching for their soulmate. In smaller groups she let them on vacations, well earned ones and soon everyone found their second half; with their companion having the same eye color as theirs in their human life. Horses were needed for agriculture and free time; she wasn't entirely lying when explaining the sudden number and why her legion started to look more and more like the hussar cavalary it was.

Rozália was still alive with fire burning stronger than it ever did. Still had a few good wars within her and her army. Especially if her theories line up. If not, well, back to the old fashioned dueling till daybreak. Nothing she and the others haven't endured and survived.

Midnight was too close to comfort, the whole Ring in its usual last minutes of panic; ushered into safehouses and into the Military District. Instead of armor, she chose her old decorated hussar uniform, allowing Marcell to braid her hair like she used to wear it. Golden embroidery flashed against the pine green dolman and pelise thrown over her left shoulder, burned against the crimson pants. Upon a quick glance in the mirror, she almost saw herself in her human glory, instead of the draconic monster.

Ten minutes. Anyone was a fool, if they thought she raised a safe haven from nothing and allowed protecting it take all priority. The ground trembled, then split, four chambers of Hellfire erupting from the cracks, forming a dome around her district, with a fifth pillar strengthening the center from within, where it should've been the weakest. Nothing other than her and her soldiers could pass through the barrier, which was a continuous flow of pent up infernal energy concentrated to the right spots.

The usual glances. Looks at photographs of their beloveds. A brotherly hug. The last check of weapons. The familiar electric burn slowly slithering up her spine. Then the skies split open for the 175th time since Rozália Véghváry became the Infernal General.

The vanguard always took the hardest hit with the first wave, preferring to not give away her marksmen's location so early. Harpies eager for the yearly cleanse dived headfirst towards the wall of shields in hope of shedding the first blood; Vitéz's spear buried within her guts and he yanked his weapon back after a rotating twist.

“Alakzatot tarts!” (Hold the formation!) came her first command of the day, she handpicked the strongest ones, soldiers she trusted would bend but not break with the first wave. She was always right in the middle as always, her pure strength was needed.

A meat grinder, the name carried the truth about the situation, a merciless clash of force, test of tenacity they always passed with tightly set jaws and clawed feet firmly planted into the ground.

Soundless arrows drew sharp lines of fire to prevent Exorcists attacking from behind, their ability to fly perhaps the most difficult to overcome, adapt to and counter. Outnumbered? That was the norm for a Hungarian. Shields dented from blows, most riddled with holy spears and arrows; they never yielded. Until the chain broke with Farkas collapsing.

“Sára, Márta, János; kíséret! Vigyétek kórházba, szóljatok, ha kell vér!” (Sára, Márta, János; escort him! Bring him to the hospital, and tell me if he needs blood!) Rozália snapped quickly upon noticing the arrow buried in his abdomen.

Fire shot from her palm, arranging themselves in the form of seeds on the sky. The wordless command was followed by creaking of metal, two set of doors pulled open and throwing chained sinners into the carnage. There were many sins, acts committed by humanity that the Phoenix army simply couldn't overlook, and they served a perfect distraction for a tactical retreat.

The vanguard dispersed from the tight knit formation to arrive at their own posts, Rozália stayed, both to survey and to lure when the sinners were culled. She met more than a hundred pairs of eyes' gleeful gleam with equal ferocity. With a small quirk of her lips she beckoned them to follow and she took off. Her path was guided by sharp smears of red on walls, ground; easy to mistake for blood, especially in a chase. She slipped, slid past civilian blockades effortlessly, muscles trained for this day working in beyond perfect tandem, making her as fast and slippery as a snake. She felt a spear grazing her shoulder even after a sharp turn, the holy wound burned with familiarity.

An unnoticeable tunnel entrance at the bottom of a large house, she was fast enough to slid right in after the corner. A quiet exhale as the flock passed by, her ascent to Árpád and Pista hiding within the building quick and quiet enough to startle both men.

“Elegem van ezekből a repkedő keselyűkből.” (I've had enough with these flying vultures.) Pista whispered after a few rounds of swearing

“Akkor hozzuk le őket a földre.” (Then let's bring them to the ground.) Rozália agreed after checking their position: indeed on her trail, picking off sinners from the worst kind, and attracted to the dome of Hellfire protecting a whole sector.

“30 másodperc.” (30 seconds) Árpád warned as he set the device and the trio fled from the spot.

A set of chain explosions shook the Ring, buildings collapsed, flames flared around the dome and the streets strangely devoid of soldiers. The fire's rage also spewed large, heated shards of angelic steel from every direction, impaling wings, burrowing into armor from the force. The blow violently forced angels to abandon the sky as their domain, not like they were less dangerous on ground level. However as the blasts died down, glittering dust was left behind; blessed shards small enough to breathe in, big enough to skewer anyone from the inside after inhaling. Árpád was a genius engineer and Pista excelled in anything back then involving gunpowder. Pair them together to achieve utmost effective creative cruelty.

Those streets weren't safe for nor exorcist or hellfire soldier, the battle continued on other parts of the town, for now the largest part trapped and slowly dying in the trap she had set up, which Árpád named as The Viper's Kiss. Choking to death on their own blood, each desperate gasp for air only worsening their state, sealing their fate. Their replacement will come soon, it was only temporary relief. They fell into rhythm like was second nature, at this point it probably was. Liberating the Embassy with a barrage of arrows, a daring death drop with a spiked whip from Anna, flourish yet precise cuts and stabs as ground support.

The sound of an unplanned explosion coming from deep in the city immediately caught her attention, her heart turning ice as the same feeling skirted her when she entered that fateful valley in the mountains of Vértes.

“Beomlott az egyik alagút, Ferenc, Mariska és Vitéz biztosan ott van!” (One of the tunnels collapsed, Ferenc, Mariska and Vitéz are surely there!) The answer came approximately ten minutes after.

“Küldj oda egy kisebb csoportot, szedjék ki őket onnan.” (Send a smaller group, get them out of there.) Rozália called to Marcell

“Tábornok, nincs...”(General, we don't...) grief flashed in her second command's eyes for a second as he prepared to finish the sentence “nincs elég emberünk.” (we don't have enough men.) Her heart twisted upon hearing the undertones of defeat in his voice.

“Akkor kivonsz mindenkit a Kannibál Kolóniából. Azok a degenerált gecik megérdemlik, ami jön.” (Then you withdraw everyone from the Cannibal Colony. Those degenerate scum deserve what's coming.) She snapped immediately, as if she will lose three of the best- or anyone over a cannibal.

“És a roham?” (And the charge?) he asked, they couldn't miss that crucial time.

A clock of fire formed on the sky, sword as single hour hand moving one hour.

“Eltolva.” (Delayed.) With that she also turned to head into the direction, despite the wind of dread blowing stronger, sure Marcell will signal for the backup as soon as the clock dissolves.

Rozália met the small unit on her way, already engaged in a fiery fight. Something was terribly amiss. The Exorcists seemed to guard the main explosion site. She still possessed the ability to walk among shadows like she belonged to them. Sheathing her weapons to prevent their glow from giving her position away, she crept closer and closer. Three Exorcists and a Hunter were staring intently at the three soldiers bracketing a few imps and a hellhound protectively.

“Do you recognize these three?” one angel asked the Hunter

“Can't say if I do, Your Divinity. There were plenty in my army.”

She knew that voice. Never wanted to hear it again. Thought she wouldn't. Her only complaint was it wasn't her who buried the blade inside him.

“But rest assured, the traitor will surely make an appearance. She was always a little sensitive, no matter the teachings.” the angel turned to reply after a quick look around, a curved hussar sword of hellfire passed clean through her chest from behind. Kicking her off from the blade, she drew the blessed one as well, a few moments of fencing the remaining two both laid dead at clawed, draconic feet.

“ITT VAGYOK, APÁM.” (I AM HERE, FATHER.) Rozália screamed at the Hunter with utmost rage and venom. The hostages of the situation used the commotion to escape, Ferenc threw a concerned look back, his sword half drawn, but decided against intervening.

“Csak azt sajnáltam, hogy nem én voltam, aki megölte.” (I only felt sorrow for that I wasn't the one whom had killed you.) She snarled, only to be greeted with silence and confusion passing over the otherwise unreadable face once his helmet was dropped.

“So you forgot your mother language.” she drew the conclusion with disgust

“In the Lord's kingdom, it wasn't needed.” she mirrored his step forward with a step back, both swords at the ready

“Where you also should belong. Should've known the whore of your mother probably made a deal with a demon to conceive.” Attila Véghváry scoffed “What a wasted potential.”

A hellfire infused dagger was thrown by reflex, barely missing his face, she recalled it immediately, only to have it embedded in stone from a well aimed strike of a sword.

“What wasted potential you dare to accuse me of? I was better even in my teens than you could ever be.” she spat, no matter her achievements reaching historic heights, this man was never proud of her.

“To carry out the Lord's will-”

“Fuck ‘The Lord’. ” Rozália cut him off, adding “And you too.”

“The bloody fuck you were thinking where your precious God was when our nation was slaughtered?! Children died in those wars! Children took up arms because their family was butchered! What was He doing; sleeping?! Just when the Ottomans came? And the Russians at least two fucking times! Last time they also heavily overstayed their nonexistent welcome.” her skin crawled from being in this...this man's presence

“All I know, now He is watching you. And me for having such a disobedient failure.” Attila crossed himself and Rozália felt crimson bleeding into her sclera

“I don't understand you. You didn't want to be married off, fine by me! But you also refused to fight for holy purposes after a while. Going as far as assassinating the Pope!”

“I WASN'T YOUR BROODMARE NOR YOUR WEAPON. I WAS YOUR DAUGHTER !!” her voice thunderous yet soaked with pain, fire encircling her fingertips, a tremendous effort to keep them at bay. Just a little longer.

“And by being that, you had no use.”

By now they slowly advanced, danced into the depths of Pride, Attila tirelessly answering her desperate questions, furious accusations with patience he never possessed. And she highly doubted he learned the virtue, more like played a game till he was in a good enough position to reveal his cards. But then, so was she. And she was about to go all in.

“The only thing more abysmal than your parenting, was your nonexistent skill in battle.” Rozália stood straight from the previous defensive position, swords sheathed and tone sharper than any dagger possible.

“How fucking dare you, you demon-”

“Ah, there you are. But where was I? Yes, you blind, arrogant idiot- Satan would probably like you though. Full offense in every way possible.” she smirked at the man whom she once called, thought of as father cursing now in Latin

“You know, Latine loqui possum, dickhead.” by now she was chuckling with malice dripping from her voice, thick like black tar about to catch on fire

“You got killed in a war because of your ego. Then I took over and wrote my name in history forever. The 14th Martyr of Arad. The General of the Lost Army. Now I have been battling with Heaven's best -except for you-, for 175 years and by now less than two thousand soldiers. You let yourself be led into an obvious trap for your overinflated ego over nothing, got yourself and half of back then your army massacred. What a bright military career.”

“Killing you will grant me knighthood in the Glided Kingdom forever unavailable for you.” his cards open, yet only a sardonic laugh escaped her at the revelation

“So you thought you slither down here after 175 years, at the dusk of my life to attempt that? Pathetic. You truly think you can kill me ? You are nothing. You are no one, just a forgotten stain on my family name.” Rozália didn't attempt to dodge the javelin, burrowed just above her heart; oh the irony. The very place where the Habsburg Count's killing blow laid.

“Well. That couldn't even fully puncture through muscle.” head canted to the side during the observation as she pulled the weapon from her body, liquid hellfire blood steadily dripping from her chest.

Now or never.

Her hand shot up, fire etched a sharp, burning V into the sky. The answer came in form of five canon shots; bursts of hellfire torched the ground, the angelic Starfall canon converted into an inferno spewing monstrosity. The canons that destabilized her fire last year so badly she needed retreat. Now the power was singing within her to the tune she wanted. None of the beyond deadly blasts touched either of them, only left deep gauges in their wake.

“Remember, you died because you strayed from the path chasing what you thought easy prey. History loves repeating itself.” Attila lost his remaining composure at her thinly veiled suggestion, sword in hand charged towards Rozália. His foot touched the concealed circle carved into the ground. He was flung back by unseen force, the circle, symbols and a name all glowing with spreading angelic light, the pentagram shape just burned into the ground lit up with hellfire. The sigil was complete.

All in.

A beam from Heaven rained down like a blade, she was propelled into the air by a vortex of hellfire bursting through the sigil- no. The broken seal. And Rozália was at their junction, above the Ring, bathed in divine and demonic forces at the same time. The briefest flash of fear was replaced by blinding agony, as if her head wanted to split open. She couldn't even scream, only let it wash over her every fiber, the pendant floating in her vision was shaking wildly, like it wanted to explode into tiny pieces. A vertical cut slashed across her chest and abdomen with excruciating pain, then a horizontal below her navel; one more horizontal lash on her chest joined the previously inverted cross. The cursed metal cracked, shrieked, while all she could do is watch.

Faces of the fallen flashed before her, Mária, Adél, Jácint, Jancsi; all 1757 of them. Her hair undone from her braids, by now an unified flare of Hellfire. Just as many pillars have spawned throughout Pride where they had died, their expression steely, no matter how she tried to reach out, to hold them, tell them they are remembered and missed so badly. Her horns turned blinding silver, radiating holy energy. A sharp neigh rang through the Ring, the ground shook as the pure hellfire mare materialized from the seal, galloping up to her in the vortex. Vihar had came, registered in Rozália's torn mind. Garnet serpent eyes shifted into pure emerald flames. Fire rippled underneath the whole Ring, rushing towards her while Heaven kept filling her with something.

“Kislányom...” (My little girl...)

The previously motionless Entity's head snapped down at Attila's utterance, her scream terrifyingly, painfully human; and it was echoed by more than a thousand war cries. She mounted Vihar within a second, charging towards the Hunter whose armor has long melted to his skin from the heat; decapitated her father with one curved strike of unrestrained fury and long overdue vengeance.

She rode to the Military District with the pure fire Fallen following her on horseback, leaving even her own soldiers beyond speechless, emotional and the most eager to finish a war once for all since 1848.

“ FŐNIX HUSZÁRSEREG! ROHAMRA!!! ”

(Phoenix Hussar Army! Charge!!!)

It started as a distant rumble, the previously celebrating Exorcists looking at the other in confusion, those pesky soldiers finally fled from the battleground this year, what now?

Then it grew louder than any roar a canon could produce, buildings collapsed, the ground trembled and all that could've been seen were hussars on hellhorses, led by War herself. And Hell was coming with her. A tidal wave of Hellfire reached house heights, flattening everything in her warpath. Her horse was quick and agile, more than capable of dodging any projectiles, while her rider mercilessly cut down everyone she could reach. Precise shots, both from guns and bows found their aerial target, the rest finished either under the hooves or ended by curved swords. Whenever a holy weapon reached a Fallen, they slowed their horses slightly to be enveloped by the burgundy tide and rode out healed.

For the first time, Heaven was truly retreating with no other option available, if not the cursed fire protecting the General of the explosive charge, then it was her twisting, turning in the saddle, once catching the spear aimed for her head, whipping it around and throwing it clean through the Exorcist it belonged to. War cries mingled with the thunder of the horses, with the roar of flames until Rozália brought them to a sharp halt, Vihar standing on her hind legs, pelise fluttering in the movement, sword raised with her eyes spitting emerald flames.

Hellfire encircled the remaining angels, flames viciously curling in the air, the army slowly spreading out. Vihar walked proudly on the set border, her infernal rider soundlessly watching from her back, the unholy trinity of Hell-Human-Heaven; the Horseman gazing at the forced standstill with concealed victory. Every time someone attempted to break from the circle, a lash of Hellfire immediately incinerated the angel with a growl, and the circle tightened. She could slaughter them all with ease, and the any possible reinforcements. Yet for some reason she was restraining the burning urge. As minutes, hours passed, they slowly realized: because she wants witnesses to spread exactly what is she. To possibly put an end to Exterminations with a taste, display of her potential and the fact that the simple yearly culling if not stopped, will have apocalyptic consequences. What else could the Horseman be other than War itself?

The grand clock struck midnight again, the portal to Heaven open and perhaps Exorcists never left Hell in such hurry. Something within Rozália was gnawing restlessly, urging her to go after them. She had the power for it. Why stop after being chained for so long? Who would, who could stop her and her army? Vihar started to become agitated as well, itching to run again and perhaps never stop. Her sanity shattering headache returned, hellfire hair billowed, holy harpoon horns glowed wildly, emerald flame eyes blazing and the pendant was being pulled apart completely, pieces vaguely resembling the original shape were trashing in the air.

Then it snapped together, the last thing Rozália remembered were her family's alarmed cries -they were safe and alive, it wasn't in vain- before darkness violently overtook her vision.

[theharddeck]

start the new year right (jake seresin x f!reader)

pairing: jake hangman seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: what could be worse than a delayed flight with lost luggage? driving back to san diego with your nemesis. and what could be worse than that? the car breaking down in the middle of the night, on new years eve. and of course, the motel couldn't have a 2BR room available...

word count: 8.2k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: explicit PiV sex, oral sex (f!receiving), bc of who i am as a person overstimulation, not the BEST communication/consent, but everything is consensual! it's just implied; normally i'm better about explicitly asking and confirming

A/N: happy new year, friends! what would my year be, if not ending with me sitting down with a stanley of chamomile and writing more than i've written the whole previous month? hope this new year is gentle to y'all.

Natasha: Hey girl! Just got an alert that your transfer flight was delayed? Are you good?

You: ‘good’ as in ‘safe’, ya

You: ‘good’ as in ‘en route’, not so much. They overbooked the flight and the next one they have available is Wednesday morning

Natasha: nooooooo

You: At least my luggage is on its way to SAN… I’m considering renting a car and just making the drive from Vegas myself

Natasha: I love you and I trust you

Natasha: but an overnight drive by yourself after an already-long day is not the move

You: ugh I know, but i don’t know what else to do

Natasha: …mkay i have a solution but it’s not the one you want

You: let’s have it

Natasha: jake’s flight also rerouted through LAS

You: absolutely not

Nat: you didn’t even hear the actual plan!!

You: if it involves me and hangman, the answer is no

Natasha: it’s just a five hour drive, you can be adults/play nice with each other for five hours

You: when has Hangman ever been an adult about anything

Natasha: fair point

Natasha: but he is also currently texting me saying he’s stranded

Natasha: you know one-way car rentals are stupid expensive

Natasha: and he likes to drive so maybe you could sleep on the way

You: stop being logical

Natasha: i do not want to get a call from the nevada state police when you fall asleep behind the wheel on New Years Eve in the middle of the Mojave

You: good, add a guilt trip to the mix

Natasha: is it working

Me: …

You: it’s working

Natasha: (Ryan Gosling!Ken gif: SUBLIME!) 

You: lol

You: ugh okay text me his number

Natasha: can’t believe that after 8 months stationed at the same base you don’t have his number

Natasha: mkay just sent

Natasha: you have to promise not to kill each other

// 

Three hours later, you were really glad you hadn’t made any promises to Nat that you couldn’t keep. 

Because not only had Jake insisted on renting a truck (“I need the legroom!”), and that you didn’t need to stop in Barstow for gas (“trust me, sugar, I’m an Eagle Scout–I know we can make it to east LA”), the gas-guzzling monstrosity had fizzled out somewhere between exits along the 15.

Now the hood was smoking, there was no way you were getting your security deposit back, and you were just as stranded as you’d been when you first texted Natasha from the airport. 

Only now you were in the middle of the desert, and your phone was almost dead.

Four hours later, you had walked three miles back to the last exit and were checking into a truly shady motel, straight up refusing to talk to Jake because somehow, incomprehensibly, the only room available was one with one (1) king bed. 

Four and a half hours later, you were dripping wet, trying not to shiver because the shower you took to warm yourself up had backfired, since the motel towels were basically handkerchiefs and your wet skin made the room seem extra cold. You hadn’t wanted to wear your airport clothes to bed, but since your luggage was already in San Diego, that left you with just a cropped tee and boyshorts. 

“You okay in there?”

You glared at your reflection in the foggy mirror, since Jake was on the other side of the door.

The audacity of him.

When you’d first met Jake “Hangman” Seresin, you’d been determined to endear yourself to him.

He was a couple years older than you, and pretty close to infamous after that stunt he pulled in eastern Europe a few years ago. He was ruthless and reckless and good enough to get away with both, and you’d hoped that if you befriended him, he could teach you a thing or two during your own time at Top Gun. 

And he was ridiculously beautiful, which maybe – maybe – had your admiration veering slightly into crush territory. But you’d locked that down, determined to view him platonically, and not let that get in the way of any instruction he could give. 

Of course, the first words out of his mouth had been “Honey, you gotta know there’s easier ways to get your MRS degree than to become a naval aviator.”

Your crush and respect had evaporated on the North Island breeze, and it’d been downhill from there.  

You had no idea why, but he had been openly antagonistic at any given moment since then — doubting your competence but disguising it as care for your safety, and tagging a misogynistic “sweetheart” at the end of every condescending sentence. You’d ignored him as much as you could, hoping he’d get that he wasn’t in Dallas anymore, and that shit didn’t fly with you, but that had only egged him on. 

But now you were exhausted, cold, stranded in the middle of the desert, and practically naked to boot, and he had the gall to act like he cared if you lived or died. 

“I’m fine, Hangman,” you said, swinging open the bathroom door and beelining for the bed, hoping you could get to it fast enough that Jake wouldn’t make a comment.

Or before your tits froze off, at least. 

You didn’t look over at him as you dove under the covers, trying your hardest not to think about the last time these sheets had been washed, much less bleached.

Of course, the comforter was tucked into the foot of the bed, and you wrestled with it for a few moments before giving up, and hauling the topsheet up over your body. It was paper thin, but it was a semblance of covering, and you lay stock-still, closing your eyes and hoping sleep would magically deliver you away from this situation. 

A moment later, the bathroom door opened and shut again. 

You could hear the sounds of Jake brushing his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste you had bought from the “concierge” in the lobby (a relic of a man who looked like he did Civil War reenactments for fun, and seemed highly amused by your outrage at the available accommodations). 

You would’ve passed the time on your phone, but the last of your battery had given up the ghost while you were in the shower. 

A minute or two passed, and the bathroom door opened and closed. From behind your closed eyelids, you could hear Jake shuffle over to the lightswitch, and then he stopped. 

You waited. 

He didn’t move. 

“What do you need, Seresin?” you asked, tersely. 

“Are you cold?” 

Your eyes popped open, wincing at the brightness of the lights, still overhead. A quick glance down at your body made your skin heat – your tee was skin tight, and the thin topsheet did little to cover you; you crossed your arms over your chest, hiding your pebbled nipples, continuing to stare at the ceiling and avoid eye contact with Jake. 

“You could turn off the lights,” you muttered. 

Technically, the cold wasn’t his fault. 

But it was his stubbornness that got you here, so that had to count for something. 

“I was just asking–” Jake started, and you interrupted him.

“It’s the desert in December,” you snapped, “yet, for some reason, this motel has the AC on; of course I’m cold.”

As if on cue, the machine in the windowsill rumbled to life. 

You closed your eyes. “Please, just turn off the light.”

The light switch flicked off, and if it were anyone else, you’d have appreciated the immediacy of the response.

But it was Jake, and he didn’t merit any kind of gratitude, so you didn’t say ‘thank you’.

Silence stretched. 

You heard a rustling, and a moment later, you felt something land on your upper body. You flinched, pulling the material away from you on instinct, and identifying it by touch as Jake’s sweatshirt. 

You opened your eyes, peering through the shadows of the room. The curtains were thin (you were sensing a theme here), letting in lights from outdoors, and you found Jake still standing by the door. He was digging through his backpack, clad in a white tank and boxer shorts, apparently also not wanting to wear airport clothes to sleep, but that didn’t explain why he had chucked his sweatshirt at you. 

“What is this?” you asked.

He looked up, shrugged slightly, and went back to rifling through his bag. “I run warm.”

You pursed your lips. “Jake, I–”

“I had a jacket on over it at the airport, okay? Promise, it’s not dirty.”

That hadn’t been what you were going to ask, but you paused all the same. 

You appreciated that he was reassuring you, and you did remember that he’d been in a jean jacket at the airport. You’d noticed it against your better judgment, thinking he looked like an A-List actor as he walked through the airport towards you, all broad shoulders and smiles, like you were friends. 

“Can I have a pillow?” His question interrupted your recollection, and you frowned in his direction. 

You were clearly on half of the bed, Jake could see which pillows were for him to use. Did he expect you not to have one?

You pointed to the pillow you  weren’t using, confused, and he laughed quietly. 

It wasn’t a sound you heard much from him.

Normally Jake laughed like he was proud of himself, reclining in the golden light of the world around him, blessing you all with his presence. This was a different sound, less pretentious, somehow warmer. 

“Yes, I can see it,” he said, his voice still amused. “But I need it over here, for the couch.”

You blinked.

The couch was maybe three feet long, an atrociously patterned aberration that you’d tossed your carryon onto, and not looked twice at. Jake didn’t explain anything further, but there were still only two pillows on the bed, and you couldn’t understand why he seemed to think you didn’t need more context for why he wanted to decorate the couch with one of them. 

“Why?” you asked. 

Again, that quiet chuckle. 

“Because, sweetheart,” he said, and you bristled on instinct, “that’s where I’m sleeping.”

You couldn’t have heard that right. 

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” you said.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Jake said, stubbornly. 

“That was never up for debate,” you snorted. “Jake, we’re adults. We can share the bed. You’re not going to fit on the couch.”

“I’m an Eagle Scout,” he grumbled. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“Yes, loyal, brave, clean, etc, I’m sure,” you said. “But I’m not sure how helpful you’re going to be tomorrow, when you can’t drive that monstrosity of a truck due to your back spasming from being rolled up on that couch all night.”

You watched through the shadows as Jake stubbornly tried to wedge himself sideways on the couch. Sure enough, his knees were practically bent up to his navel, and even through the darkness, you could see the furrow in his brow. 

“You could drive it,” he said, too obstinate to accept defeat.

“I will not,” you returned, “drive a vehicle that ostentatious.”  

“Says the pilot,” he grumbled.

“Naval aviator,” you shot back. “Jake, it’s an enormous bed. Get over yourself, get into it, and the sooner you settle, the sooner it’ll be morning, and we can leave.”

He deliberated, the mulish man. 

But eventually he pushed himself off the couch, clambering across the room. The bed dipped as he slid into it, and reached down for the comforter, still wedged into the bottom of the bed. You tried not to be annoyed when he yanked it free easily. It was probably just momentum, or that you’d loosened it up for him. While he was rearranging the comforter, you pulled the sweatshirt over your head, and tried to be calm about the situation. 

His sweatshirt was somehow still warm. 

It smelled amazing, like cedar and fancy cologne.

And also sweat, which you tried damn hard to ignore.

It was cozy, and you snuggled into it, and a moment later, Jake settled. Thankfully, the bed was big enough that you didn’t have to touch each other, but that didn’t mean you could ignore that he was there. 

In bed. 

With you. 

You snorted, thinking how much of a dream this would’ve been to you eight months ago, before you met Jake, and he dashed your crush to pieces. 

“What?” Jake grumbled, and maybe it was the proximity, or maybe exhaustion from the day was setting in, because his voice sounded almost gentle. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “G’night.”

“Night,” Jake said. 

You rolled onto your side, pulling your feet up under you, and folding your hands under your face, so you didn’t have to touch your skin to the pillow. Of course, that brought the sleeve of the sweatshirt to just under your face, and you were surrounded by the delicious smell of it again. 

It distracted you for a moment. 

Just a moment. 

Then you had to acknowledge that, even with the sweatshirt and the newly-added comforter, your wet hair was no match for the chill of the room. Your legs felt exposed and the sheets felt like they were damp and wet, and you tried your best to ignore it, but soon you were shivering. 

You tried to be still, you did. 

But when you heard the bed shift as Jake turned towards you, you winced into the darkness, unsurprised. 

“Sweetheart…” he started, and you shook your head, refusing to look back over at him. 

“I’ll be fine, I just need to fall asleep.”

Jake let that statement hang for a moment, just long enough for your shivering to start up again. He cleared his throat. 

“Um,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he sounded nervous, “I meant what I said earlier. About running warm.”

This time, you did turn over, trying to read his expression in the shadowy darkness. He looked…open. Like he really was altruistically suggesting sharing body warmth, nothing malicious and none of his normal teasing. 

You were suspicious, but not enough so that you could ignore that it was a better idea than freezing yourself to sleep. 

“You sure?” you asked, and Jake grunted, which you figured was as good a response as any. Actually, it was pretty damn good, because if he sounded eager, you’d be creeped out, and if he was uncertain, you’d feel guilty. But being matter-of-fact about it gave you the courage to scoot across the bed. 

“How do we do this?” you asked, and Jake reached for you. It was an easy movement, natural, enough so that it surprised you when he hesitated before touching you. 

“Can I…?” he trailed off. 

“Sure,” you shrugged, hoping you sounded half as unaffected as he did. This was fine, this was normal. Just a guy who was SO obnoxious that it made you forget how hot he was, suddenly not being obnoxious, and basically punching you in the face with his hotness.   

His hand settled on the small of your back and damn it, he was warm. His touch was soft, gentle, almost nervous, and he pulled you closer to him. You realized you’d expected him to turn you over, press your back to his front so that you’d be spooned, but instead he just wrapped you in his arms. He reached around you to tuck the comforter between you and the mattress, insulating you with his warmth. 

Your head was in his chest, and with his arms bracketed around you, your breath heated up the space between his tank and your face. He’d even managed to slot his arm under your head, so your face still wasn’t on the pillow. 

Cuddling with someone new was usually awkward, a tangle of limbs and expectations, but with Jake, it wasn’t. It was…damn it. It was pretty close to perfect.

“Good?” he asked, and he sounded different, with your cheek on his bicep, and your nose practically pressed against his chest. It was like you could feel his voice, rumbling around you, somehow more comforting for the proximity. 

You nodded, not wanting to hear anything new on your voice if you tried to respond. 

Jake hummed. 

A moment later, you realized his thumb was moving. Nothing major, just a small movement between your shoulder blades, a reassuring stroke. It was a comforting motion, gentle, and it wasn’t long before his warmth and his touch lulled you into a sweet sleep. 

You startled awake to the sound of guns. 

Not guns, fireworks. 

Damn it, it was New Year’s Eve; how had you forgotten? 

Jake stirred too, a deep breath expanding his chest, and leading you to realize his head was resting on top of yours, his chin tucked on top of the crown on your head.

“Is that–” he mumbled and how dare he, honestly, how very dare he, because he sounded great. Fuck him, for that, frankly. 

The situation washed over you, half asleep and fully cognizant of how random it was. You didn’t mean to start, but soon you were laughing, your shoulders shaking. 

“You okay?” Jake asked, a thread of concern in his voice, and that didn’t help any. 

“Just the universe’s sense of humor,” you said. 

You didn’t know how, but you knew he was confused and you should’ve been worried about how you knew that, how you weren’t cold at all, how if you looked up, you’d know what a  sleep-mussed Jake Seresin looked like, but all you could think was that this was so, so stupid. 

You took a long breath, starting to explain. 

“I just can’t believe this is how I’m starting the next year of my life,” you laughed. “Like, I’m fine, right? I’m doing alright on a career path I love, I call San Diego home, I have great friends and I’m doing as good with my family as anyone could be. And where am I on New Year’s? Stranded in a motel off an exit that’s literally not even town, cold enough that a guy who hates me is cuddling me so I can be still enough for him to go to sleep, with a dead phone so none of my friends or family can wish me a happy new year, and I–”

“Wait,” Jake pulled back, and you frowned at the interruption, “why do you think I hate you?”

You stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jake said, having the gall to look confused.   

“Jake,” you said, disbelieving. “You’re literally constantly a jackass to me. You’re constantly undermining me, doubting or heckling. You throw in a – frankly overwhelming – amount of southern charm and expect that to distract from the fact that you’re being outrageously patronizing and—”

Jake kissed you.

You weren’t expecting it, and it was so sudden that it thoroughly cut off your train of thought. All you could do was comprehend fleeting sensations and emotions. Jake’s lips were soft, the pressure of them light and teasing against yours. His arms tightened around you, like he was steadying both of you. In the same way you’d sensed his confusion, now you sensed his apprehension, and an unfamiliar determination. 

Just as quickly, he pulled back. 

“I don’t–” his voice was rough, and he cleared his throat. “Christ, I don’t hate you.”

You licked your lips, annoyed that they had the audacity to tingle in response to him.

You wanted to ask what the hell that was. 

You wanted to ask why he was looking at you like that. 

You wanted to ask what that expression meant but more than anything, you wanted him to kiss you again. 

Your arms were curled up between the two of you, and it took so little effort to curl your fingers in the front of his tank and pull him to you. His mouth was on yours a breath later, and his hand was on your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you properly. 

Of course he was a good kisser. 

Fucking of course he was, he had to be, but it was one thing to know it in an agnostic kind of way, and another to feel his lips pressing into yours. You shivered when his tongue swept over your bottom lip and when you mirrored the motion, something in his chest rumbled, and Jake parted his lips for you. 

He tasted faintly of toothpaste, and he had some kind of chapstick on his lips that was sweet, and you couldn’t get enough of him. His arms were still around you and he was so warm, so broad, and you couldn’t help but press yourself against him. When your arms wound around his neck, Jake broke away from you. You could feel his chest rising and falling quickly, and his hands fell from your back to your waist, as if holding you in place. He turned his head slightly, kissing lazily at the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, to your jawline. 

“That’s not how I wanted to tell you,” he murmured against your skin, and this time when you shivered, you knew it wasn’t from the cold. 

“You still haven’t told me,” you managed, eyelashes fluttering at the teasing brush of his lips, while you tried to look at him.  

To your astonishment and delight, Hangman blushed. 

Sheepish wasn’t an expression you were used to on him, not unlike bashful, but you thought it suited him. He looked like he was gearing up to say something and, curious though you were, you didn’t want to get into that right now. It was late, you were still exhausted, and just a few moments ago, you’d thought he hated you. 

If his expression now was any indication, you and Jake had very different conceptions of flirting. 

“Look,” you said, before he could say whatever he was hyping himself up to say, “this is probably a lot more complicated than either of us were prepared for. So, it’s the New Year…we could start it how we want the year to go.”

Jake’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled softly, a sweet expression on his face. He turned his head to kiss the palm of the hand you had looped around his neck. 

“Cuddling,” he said, at the same time you announced, 

“Orgasms.”

You would never forget the expression on his face. 

Sweetness morphed into amazement, and then quickly into hunger. 

“I can pivot,” he said quickly, and you lifted your chin. 

“You sure?” you teased, “Don’t want to strongarm you into–”

Your sentence ended with a squeal when Jake turned quickly, flopping onto his back, and pulling you on top of him. Your knee was between his thighs and you couldn’t hold back your grin as you looked down at him. Just like with this kiss, he was letting you lead, but being so clear about what he wanted. 

And who were you, to decline?

Kissing him from on top of him felt different, felt amazing. 

You could appreciate how sturdy he was, and when you relaxed slightly, you found yourself straddling his thigh. You’d been a part of plenty of dogfight football scrimmages, and Jake was never one for longer board shorts; you knew exactly how strong his thighs were. But it was one thing to see them on display, and quite another to feel them flexing between your legs. 

One of Jake’s hands was inching under his sweatshirt that you wore, warm fingers spreading across your stomach as you moved over him. 

God, he felt so good, so few layers between his skin and your core, and the pressure of his thigh between your legs was so good. You kissed him again, tongues tangling and teeth clashing, as you ground against his leg. 

When you moved, you felt the hem of his boxers slide against your leg, and sue a girl, you were curious. You shifted slightly, moving your thigh higher, and when you rocked your hips, your thigh brushed against his cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake gritted as you moved against him, and you thought maybe you didn’t mind the petname, when he sounded like that. 

You braced yourself on the pillow behind him and moved again. 

It shouldn’t be this hot. 

But it was, he was, and you felt pleasure spooling through you, just from his leg between yours, and his gentle touch against your skin. How he reacted to you, how he moved under you, it was so good, like a promise. 

“Not gonna lie,” Jake said, his voice still rough, “I really like you in my sweatshirt.”

Your mouth fell open when he pushed his hips up to meet you. 

You both stifled a gasp at the motion, the sensation with so few layers between the two of you. Jake’s hands crept higher under your sweatshirt, almost tentative, and you leaned into his touch, encouraging. His hands cupped your breasts, and your head dipped to the side in relief. He made a sound of satisfaction, just enjoying their weight in his hand, then his wrists moved so his thumbs could brush over your nipples. He rolled them, and you felt it in your core, your thighs clenching. 

“Love you in my sweatshirt,” Jake repeated, sounding dazed, “but I wanna to see you without it.”

You leaned back immediately, pulling the sweatshirt over your head. 

You missed the warmth of it immediately, but Jake’s gaze was worth it. His expression bordered on reverence, and he actually licked his lips, looking up at you. You wiggled on his thigh, heat pulsing, needing something from him, your skin prickling under his gaze. 

Jake frowned, the lust in his eyes overtaken by concern. “Too cold?”

You certainly weren’t toasty, but you couldn’t say you cared.

“I would’ve thought you’d have a solution to keep me warm,” you teased, and Jake seemed to accept the challenge. 

The hands that had been on your breasts dropped to the back of your thighs, and a moment later he had pushed you back. You were on your back, feet in the air, and Jake turned you gently on the bed so you were resting on the pillows again. You settled in, expecting him to lower himself between your thighs, and were surprised when instead he reached back for the comforter. 

Maybe you had misunderstood, he didn’t actually want…

He pulled the comforter over his head, over your shoulders, and you blinked disbelieving at a Jake-shaped figure under the blanket, moving to the base of the bed, between your legs. 

You were fairly confident, but that was a lot to ask from someone on a first date, and this wasn’t even that, and you ducked under the comforter as well. 

“Jake, you don’t have to–” you protested, realizing belatedly that there was nowhere near enough light to be able to make meaningful eye contact. 

“You said orgasms, right?” Jake said, his voice full of a familiar smugness. 

He settled at the base of the bed, crouching, and through the darkness, you could tell he was looking in your direction. His hands were intentional on your legs, letting you know where he was, giving you time to tell him if you weren’t okay with something. 

If he was offering, you were beyond okay with this. 

“Right,” you said weakly. 

His hands trailed up your thigh, his warm touch light, and his fingers closed over the band over your boyshorts. You nodded, a sound he heard because your head rubbed against the comforter.  

He kissed your thigh. 

It was a feather light touch, a brush of his mouth against the sensitive skin, but it was so gentle that it reassured you. He kissed your other thigh, then higher, and one of his hands felt up to your stomach, and he pushed, an unsubtle prompt. You lay back against the mattress, nerves and desire warring within you as Jake kissed higher.

You felt a brush of his tongue when he reached the edge of your underwear and your breath caught. 

“Plural?” Jake asked, and it took you a minute to understand his question.  

His fingers pulled at the edge of your boyshorts, peeling them slowly down, his mouth pressing gentle kisses as he revealed more of your body. He was exploring by touch what he couldn’t see, so slow and perfect it was overwhelming. 

“There’s two of us,” you managed, back to his question. “Hence plural.”

Jake laughed, a soft exhale against your skin. He’d bared you to him, and you shifted, like you were seeking his touch. 

“I know this is new for us, sweetheart,” he mumbled, a kiss to your hipbone, then the opposite, “but that’s not how this is going to work.”

You bit your lip, nervous again.

You were new to this with him, and some guys thought oral sex was some kind of prerequisite – check the box, half ass it for thirty seconds, guarantee she’ll let you hit it – but something told you Jake would be different. 

You were panting, anticipation making you breathless. 

You whispered his name and it was like he was waiting for permission, because he leaned into you. His first kiss against your pussy was gentle, just as sweet as those kisses he’d trailed up your thighs. It was so sweet it made you squirm, and Jake chuckled, a sound you felt as his breath ghosted over you. He pulled back long enough to draw an audible breath, then his tongue licked over the whole of your cunt, a long, torturous swipe that had you trembling.  

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, muffled, and your hips bucked. “You’re already wet for me.”

You reached under the comforter, your hands tangling in his hair and Jake hummed his approval before following your prompting back to your pussy. He lapped at you, learning you, and when he trailed up to circle your clit with it, you couldn’t stop the cry that escaped you. 

“That right, honey?” he asked, sounding smug, and he circled your clit with his tongue. You felt a hand slip from your hip to your entrance, rubbing over you as his tongue played with your clit. He kissed you, teased you, and when he pushed a thick finger into you while his lips closed over your clit, you moaned. 

“Feels so good, Jake,” you cried, and you felt him shudder at your voice. 

You heard it too, how wrecked you sounded, and it was his fault. Your hips were pushing up into him, chasing the suction of his mouth, the pull of his fingers. He was only a knuckle or so into you, but his finger was so wide, thicker than your own, and you moaned at the unfamiliar intrusion. 

It was Jake between your legs, Jake’s wicked smile, sharp tongue, capable hands, Jake who was working you with his fingers and mouth. He felt so good, and your body felt like it was humming to a frequency he set. 

You trembled as he sheathed a finger in you, you moaned when he sucked your clit, and when his teeth brushed over your clit, the pleasure coursing through you snapped. Your fingers in his hair tightened, and Jake groaned when you pressed your pussy harder against his face. He groaned like he wanted it, like he craved that reaction, and you came hard.  

He coaxed you through it, gentle and steady as he’d been so far, and as you came down, you pulled slightly at his hair. 

“Jake, that was–” you gasped, and you felt him laugh again. 

“Honey, what part of ‘plural’ is so hard for you to understand?” he asked.

And he pushed another finger into you. 

Your back bowed off the mattress; you were so sensitive and it made everything Jake did to you feel so much more. 

His mouth traveled down to where his fingers were pressing into you, and he curled them into you. You heard an obscene slurping sound, and your eyes rolled back as you realized he was pulling your release out of you, tasting it from his own fingers. 

“Like honey from a honeycomb,” Jake mumbled, his voice thick, and you whimpered at how he sounded. 

A moment later, his lips closed over your clit again, and your head thrashed against the pillow. 

“Jake, I just–” you panted, but he sucked again and you broke off on a moan. “I can’t, I just – fuck, give me a second– oh, that feels so good.”

Jake either didn’t hear you or he wasn’t listening. 

He was following your body, the way your hips were pushing up into him, the way your cunt was clenching down on his fingers, and it was like he was drunk on the taste of you. He suckled on your clit, his tongue laving over you, stoking you higher again. He felt so good, and you were sure you were telling him, but you were fast losing confidence in your ability to form words. 

You lost track of time, there was just pleasure, and the heat from Jake, and the way he was working your body. 

“You gonna come for me again?” Jake coaxed, pulling back to blow a long stream of cool air over your clit. You flinched, you writhed, you would do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. “I think you can do it, honey, it was so pretty the first time. This pussy is so good, doing such a beautiful job coming for me, tasting delicious and I bet you can do it again…”

Your legs felt limp as he licked over you again, tasting where his fingers fed into you, pumping them and pulling pleasure out of you. His tongue flicked over your clit, a maddening pattern, and when his lips closed, he sucked hard. It was so strong, so unreal, and you shook as you came again. 

“Ah, there it is…That’s so good, sweetheart,” Jake soothed, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your pussy, and you certainly didn’t know which was hotter. 

He continued to stroke inside of you, his thick fingers pulling you through your orgasm, keeping you grounded, keeping your pleasure coming. 

You weren’t cold anymore. 

In fact, you were burning up, and Jake didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. The moment he felt coherency return to your posture, he dove back in. You genuinely didn’t think you could stand another orgasm from his mouth, and you let go of his hair – he wasn’t listening to you anyways – and flipped back the comforter. 

God damn, he was so hot. 

He looked up from between your thighs, the lower half of his face smeared with your arousal, and he fucking licked his lips, before smiling up at you. His hair was in complete disarray, and you could tell his whole upper body was flushed from overheating, and he looked so smug, so proud, and he had every right to be. 

“C’mere,” you asked, and it was enough. 

Grinning, Jake crawled up the bed, caging you with his arms again. 

He hesitated, unsure what you were okay with, but you kissed him hungrily. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you felt a sort of possessive pride that it’d chased away the cloying sweetness of his chapstick. 

Right now, Jake tasted like yours, and you were obsessed. 

When he realized he could, Jake returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. 

Your hands smoothed over his back, curling in the hem of his tank and pulling it over his shoulders. Jake wouldn’t separate from your lips to let you pull it over his head and you giggled as he kissed you through it, like an infinity scarf. You felt up his back, hands delighting in the contours of muscles that you’d only admired from a distance, before you caught yourself. 

He was so strong. 

Warm and toned and big, intoxicating to think of him over you. Finally, he ducked his head to chuck off the shirt, and the motion lowered his hips to yours. You both groaned at the brush of his cock between your thighs, and then Jake was kissing you with fresh urgency. You hadn’t seen him yet, though he’d had his face in your pussy, and you reached between the two of you. 

You felt him over his boxers, and Jake broke off the kiss at your touch, his head dropping to your shoulder. It was like he couldn’t contain himself, and his hips pushed into your touch. You explored the shape of him through the thin cotton, your own hips rocking into him on instinct. 

Fuck, he felt big. 

You felt a small bit of wetness near the fat head of him, and you moaned as your thumb rolled over the leaking precum, rubbing his sensitive head. 

“I have a – shit,” Jake broke off, his hips rutting into your touch, and your head fell back. “I have a condom in my wallet.”

“Of course you do,” you teased, and it would’ve been more effective if you didn’t sound so needy about it. 

You turned your head to press a kiss to his cheek, then scooted out of the bed. 

The room felt freezing outside of the bed, but it was refreshing, as you darted over to his backpack. You found his wallet, and the condom inside it, and when you got back to the bed, Jake had only moved to push himself up. He was kneeling in the middle of the bed, and he shifted as he pulled off his boxers. 

“Holy shit, Seresin,” you whispered, not even caring that your voice sounded reverent. 

His cock was beautiful, thick between his thighs, bouncing parallel to the bed. Jake gripped the base of it loosely, like he had to do something while he watched you watching him, and you crawled back to the bed, still staring, kneeling so your knees almost touched his. 

“Can I?” you asked, holding up the condom. “Please, sweetheart,” Jake said, his voice so gruff and gorgeous. You licked your lips and ripped the foil, but hesitated before you pulled it out. 

“I’m clean,” you told him, sitting back on your thighs. “Um, we should still use this, but I just wanted you to know.”

Jake caught your chin between  his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to him. He kissed you quickly, short and sweet, and there was something unexpected in his eyes when he pulled back. 

“Me too, sugar,” he said, his voice deep. “Thank you.”

You couldn't be sure what he was thanking you for, but you felt like you should be thanking him. For making sure you felt good, for thinking of a condom, for making you feel so cared for. So you tilted your head, reached between you to where he was loosely fisting himself, and replaced his hand with yours. 

You pulled your hand loosely over him, obsessed with the warm feel of him, how thick he was in your hand, how heavy. Jake’s hands hovered like he wasn’t sure where you put them, and they settled on your upper arms, like he needed you to keep his balance. 

It didn’t stop you from leaning down and guiding his tip towards your mouth. 

Jake groaned, a beautiful, strangled sound, and it was lost to you when you first tasted him. 

This wasn’t the proper angle for a proper blow job, and you wanted to feel him, but you were curious, and your tongue lapped at him. His skin was scalding hot, and a pearl of precum beaded at the end of his cock, like an invitation. You licked it into your mouth, moaning at the salty, rich taste of him. 

Jake’s hand fell to the back of your head, not pushing, but like he needed to steady himself. You licked over him, acquainting yourself with him, learning the veins and sensitive spots, knowing you’d want to come back to them later. Too soon, Jake’s hand tightened in your hair. 

You looked up at him, hoping he’d like the picture of you from this angle. His jaw clenched and his eyes fluttered shut, if that was any indication. 

“Need to be inside you,” he ground out, and opened his eyes. “That mouth is so sweet, honey, gonna make this be over too soon. I want to feel that pussy.”

God, you wanted that too. 

You pushed yourself back up, pulled the condom out, and rolled it over his thick length. His thighs were shaking, you noticed, and it filled you with something like tenderness. That he’d get you there twice, then let you play with him, then say “please”, like fucking you was a privilege. 

When your hand reached the base of his dick, condom secured, he surged forward to kiss you. You swayed on the bed, kneeling in the middle of it, his hands cupping your face, yours on his waist. Both pulling, both needing to be closer, and when Jake lowered you back down, you followed his prompting eagerly. 

He settled you back against the pillows, back how you’d been when he’d driven you to the stars with his tongue, but this time his handsome face was right over you. When he settled over you, you closed your eyes against the intensity of the moment. You were both fully naked, and it felt so heavenly to have so much of his skin pressed against yours. He was warm, strong, all around you, and you needed him in you too. 

You spread your legs, letting him rest deeper between your thighs, and whimpering when his hot cock brushed against your stomach, then down. 

“Don’t know how slow I can take this,” Jake said, like he expected you to have a problem with that. 

“I want to feel you,” you told him, honestly. “Please.”

Jake kissed you again, pulling back to press his forehead to yours as he guided his dick between your thighs. 

You’d had two orgasms. 

You’d had his fingers and his tongue loosen you, you were plenty lubricated, but when Jake’s cock pressed against your entrance, you realized it hadn’t been enough. 

“Holy shit, Jake,” you gasped, as his fat head pressed against your pussy, waiting for resistance to melt. 

“Relax, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, “you can do it…You’re doing so good, just a little bit of give, come on…”

You whimpered at the new endearment, but there was no way. You felt needy, cloying. You could fit him, you knew it, but it felt—there.

He eased in, just a breath, and you felt like sobbing. It was so good, so overwhelming, so fucking tight, and you needed the rest of him. 

“Jesus, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake said, he sounded choked, and you loved it. 

“More,” you whimpered. “Please, Jake, want to feel you…you’re so big, I need more, please, please.”

“Honey, you can’t say things like that��” Jake gritted, your words driving his hips forward. 

You could tell he was trying to go slow, but the feeling of him forcing his cock into you had your legs shaking. You wanted it, needed it, and if begging was the way to get it, begging you could do. 

“Want to feel your thick cock, Jake,” you whispered, and he shivered. He was bracing himself against the headboard, and you could feel his arms shaking as he fought to keep from driving into you. “You feel so good, need to feel you so deep…want to come on your cock, please, Jake…come on and fuck me.”

He groaned like he was in pain, as he pressed deeper into you. 

He was trying to go slow, trying to be gentle, but you wanted to be mindless, you wanted your whole being centered around the deep push of his cock. You wiggled your hips, and sighed as he sunk deeper.  

“Thank you,” you breathed, and his hips punched forward again. 

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you would’ve laughed, but you were too overwhelmed. 

This was what you wanted, this was what you knew he could give you. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to your breasts, squeezing and massaging your breasts as he sank into you. You turned your head to look up at him, and found him staring, slack jawed, down at you in awe. 

“You make me feel so good,” you coaxed him. “Please, Jake…fuck me.”

Jake growled, a sound that came from deep in his chest, and his hand fell between you to brush over your clit. 

You jolted at his touch, your hips opening impossibly wider, and a hotter, stronger arousal racing through you than the steady, heavy press of him. Your hips bucked up, and you tweaked your nipples, working yourself up onto his cock rather than pressing him into you. It took a couple more burning minutes, and you were both coated in sweat by the time he was seated in you. 

“Baby…” Jake breathed, his voice a dream and you had to resist the urge to purr. He was so warm, all around you, inside you, it felt like he was grounding you. 

Then he moved.

His first pump had your back arching, your knees jolting up, your eyes flying open. Fuck, how did he reach that part of you, how was there room, how were you–

Jake laughed, a deep, dark sound. 

“That's what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asked, and he moved again. You cried out, overwhelmed, perfect.

“This what you were begging for?” Jake grunted, between strokes, “This what you were asking so prettily for, and now you have me, and what’s that, baby, can’t find your words? What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong, not a damn thing, but you couldn’t summon the wherewithal to tell him. All you felt was pleasure, pounding and sweeping, full and as good as eternal. 

“This pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart,” Jake swore, his head lowering to kiss down your neck. He sucked at the skin there savagely, needing a distraction, and you clenched around him, when his lips closed over your pulse point. “Pulling me in, so tight and warm. You look so good around my cock, honey, you wouldn’t believe… Like a dream, like a fucking wet dream, but you’re here, stretched around me, taking me so good…”

You moaned as he found a rhythm.

The headboard was banging against the wall with the strength of his thrusts, and he pounded into you. There was so much he hadn’t said, so much he couldn’t say, but he pushed it into your body, swore it to you. He soothed it over your clit with his thumb, he promised it with his thick, heavy cock inside of you, and you felt yourself falling into it. 

“Please, Jake,” you managed, begging again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything other than take the harsh fucking he was giving you, and craving it, needing it. 

“What’d’ya need, honey,” Jake groaned. “You have me here, so fucking deep, never felt this good, this right—what do you need, baby, tell me, whatever you need.”

Had the room been dark? Surely it’d always been bright light, sparking, blinding. 

Pleasure was rolling over you, suffocating, live-giving and you shook your head, moaning with every thrust of Jake’s hips. The only words you could manage were his name, and please, and it seemed to spur Jake on further. His thumb pressed hard into your clit as his hips sped up, and you felt the wave inside you cresting. 

“You’re close, honey, I can feel it, can feel how hard this cunt wants to come. Are you gonna do it, baby? Milk this cock, make it even tighter around me, want to feel that, need to feel your pussy twitching around me, sugar, please come…”

Your orgasm shattered over you, blinding and perfect. Your throat felt hoarse from your moans, or your breathlessness, but everything heightened. You felt like you were breathing with Jake, felt every hitch and gasp and shudder as he coaxed you through it. You felt like you were suspended in space, like the only thing there was was Jake’s arms around you and his cock within you and you needed, you needed, him to come. 

“Come in me, baby,” you whispered, your voice watery. “Need to feel you, want to feel how you’d fuck me to fill me, please, Jake, it’ll feel so good.”

“Fuck,” Jake shouted hoarsely, his hips thrusting harshly into you. “Oh, sweetheart, you feel too good, you’re so tight around me… I need to come, need to feel– fuck –”

You could feel his thighs shaking, his back tensing, and you turned your head to kiss him as he came. He moaned into your mouth, his whole body jerking as he emptied into the condom. You felt how strong he came, felt how thoroughly it worked through him, and it filled you with pride and satisfaction as he collapsed over you. 

You knew he meant to push himself to your side, but you didn’t let him go. 

You were just as boneless. 

You both lay there, a sticky, sweaty, mess, panting. It was like a dream, a daydream crossed with a fantasy. You were warm, comforted, sated, and the room was still cheap, the motel was still sketchy, but you were suddenly quite alright with this start to the year.  

//

tag list: @cheekymcgrath @laracrofted @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @withahappyrefrain @hangmanssunnies @callsignspark @lewmagoo @mxgyver @sebsxphia @daggerspare-standingby @ryebecca @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanbrainrot @sometimesanalice @wildbornsiren @whoeverineedtobe @clancycucumber230 @javihoney and i think a couple folks have changed their URLS, so please let me know if you still want to be tagged!

[xomakara]

A Heavenly Night

SUMMARY |  In which Jaemin takes you out on a date. But as friends? Tired of being friend-zoned, you confess your feelings. Little did you know that he felt the same way. PAIRINGS | Jaemin/Fem!Reader GENRE |  Friends to lovers, romantic?, fluff, soft, smut, general perversion RATING |  Mature LENGTH | 4,170 words AUTHOR’S NOTE |  I said "fuck it, I'm writing a Jaemin oneshot." And here it is. I know it's not as smutty compared to the DIY series with Jeno but I hope you all enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. I need to write more soft yet smutty stories lolol.

"The boys told me that you wouldn't say no. So… Get your pretty black dress on. You're going on a date with me!"

You looked at the text message you received from your best friend of many years and grimaced. A date with him of all people.

You: You're joking right? Nana: Why would I be joking? We're going on a date. You: Seriously? Who are you and what have you done with Jaemin? Nana: I suddenly have the courage to ask you on a date and you don't want to? You: I never said that! But really, is this you? Nana: Oh c'mon Y/N. Let's just go hang out for old time sake. You: ...fine. But you better treat me to something uber fancy.

You shook your head and stared at your phone for the longest. What was up with him? Na Jaemin never, NEVER, asked you out on a date before. For as long as you have known him, he only wanted to hang out as long as your other friends were around.

You sighed and wondered what that weirdo was doing the last few months. You had been childhood friends with Jaemin for quite a long time but you both haven't seen each other lately due him being busy. You'd sometimes stop by the practice room, you being a stylist for the company, and would just hang around to watch them.

Sometimes you'd just say hi and talk to the other members of NCT.

Jaemin didn't know it, but you had fallen pretty hard for him. It was as if whenever you saw someone who looked almost like him, you'd burst into a smile and bite your lip and realize that it was just someone who looked like him. Or when he would simply text you a simple good morning greeting or ask you for some advice, you would have some stupid smile on your face. You dropped your shoulders and pouted. 

Geez, what was Na Jaemin doing to make you fall for him?

After replying that he better treat you to a five star restaurant and some high class wine, you went into your closet and dug around in lace and frills to find a black dress. In your search, you managed to find only three in which you threw them on your bed and analyzed them.

"Ugh, what the hell was mom thinking getting me this monstrosity?" Wide-eyed, you poked at the frilly dress etched with tacky baubles and sequins. It looked like a vintage retro dress and was horribly made. "Does she think I live in the '80s or something? This is totally not a look."

Moving on to the next dress, you sighed. This dress had humiliating moments for you. Though it was a fashionable dress with its knee-length hugging skirt and a deep v-cut in front, you couldn't stop the embarrassing wardrobe malfunction that occurred when you were partying with the NCT members for Taeyong’s birthday last year. You ended up flashing your boobs to wide-eyed Kun and Jisung. You weren't going to have that happen again. "Nope. I don't want my tits being ogled by them. And since I have a feeling that he may bring some of the pervs along, I'm not going to take that chance."

You rummaged through your closet once more.

"When did I get this dress?" You blinked. No matter how many times you thought back, you didn't recall getting this dress. It was a sexy, strapless piece that laced up in the back. The skirt was rather short and looked liked it would hug all your curves but shorts would do no harm. 

"Hmm? What's this?"

A little note was attached to the dress:

'You seem a little lonely and tired lately. I'm sorry if I haven't been around lately. Hoping you wear this on our date!'

You rolled your eyes and smiled at the cheesiness of it. Your best friend was sure something. Jaemin actually got you a dress? When did he have the time to plant it in your closet? Putting away the other dresses apart from the third one, you got yourself ready. You couldn't debate if you wanted to wear lace underwear or cotton. 

Or a thong? You didn’t want your panty lines to show.

Maybe no panties would work in this case. But then, you didn’t really want to go commando.

"It's not like he'll see me in my underwear right?" You asked yourself looking in the mirror and telling yourself that even though your best friend was gorgeously hot, you'd never give him certain priorities. "Nah. It’s Jaemin, after all. There’s no way he’d try to get down my pants…well up my skirt."

Ding dong!

"Coming!" You called out as you ran to your front door. Opening it, you were met with the smiling face of NCT's Jaemin.

And his good-looking groupmates.

Like that wasn't a surprise.

"Oh!  You're wearing the dress that Johnny picked out?" Ten asked as he eyed you appreciatively. "It looks really good on you Y/N."

"So Johnny bought it instead. I should've known." You muttered as you smoothed out the little black dress. It definitely was fashionable and Johnny did have some great fashion sense. You gave a small turn and gave a wink to the others. "How do I look then?"

"You look nice!" Renjun gave you a thumbs up.

"It’s sexy." Jaehyun nodded, a grin on his mischievous face. "That's totally your style."

"Besides," You started as you eyed the massive membered group, as you lightly fingered the end of the dress. "How in the world did you stash this in my closet? I gave my spare to Jae— Was it you Jaemin?"

He shook his head fervently. "No...why would you think that?"

"Because you have my spare." You gave him a look that said 'duh you loser'. "Who else would have access to my apartment?"

"Well you see..." Renjun began, "Jeno took it from Jaemin's bag when he wasn't looking and then Mark and Johnny snuck in here."

"The hell, bro?" Mark exclaimed, an exasperated look on his face.

"And this is why I absolutely adore Renjun." You patted the man’s hair. You turned on the two men who came into your apartment and glared, Johnny letting out a small chuckle. " You saw my underwear, didn't you Johnny?!"

"Maybe just a little. You sure have lots of sexy underwear~"

"Oh? What kind?" Jaehyun raised an eyebrow. “Satin? Lace?”

"Really Jaehyun?" You turned on him before kicking his shin. You threw your hands in the air exasperated. "Ugh, who did I piss off in my past life to get this unfair treatment?"

"How Jaemin got her is still a mystery..." Ten whispered to Johnny, who in turn just nodded his head.

"He just got lucky. If she was my best friend..." Renjun mumbled, Mark elbowing him.

"Ugh." You frowned and looked at Jaemin. "Can we go now?"

Nodding his head, Jaemin led you to his car. The other NCT members took the other vehicle that was parked behind Jaemin, the others claiming that they feel more comfortable in the van (and Johnny’s driving) than in Jaemin's sports car. Getting in, you were just a bit disappointed that Jaemin didn't even compliment how you looked. You had more than a crush on him but Jaemin figured that you were just a friend and treated you like one.

Getting into the driver seat and starting the car, Jaemin reached towards the backseat and grabbed a small box, handing it to you. "A present."

"From who? Johnny didn't get it either, did he?"  You asked as you took the small box. You hopefully wished it was from him.

"Open it and you'll see." Jaemin shrugged as he sped off.

Opening it, your eyes widened. You looked at the trinket in the box to the man next to you. "You're kidding right?"

"It's from Taeyong." He muttered as he kept his eye on the road. You were a tad bit sad since it wasn't him who got it for you.

"Oh." Closing the jewelry box, you shifted in your seat and deeply inhaled. You didn't want a gift from Taeyong. You wanted it from Jaemin.

Glancing at you, he noticed that you looked quite down. "You alright? Y/N?"

"I'm fine, Jaemin."

Jaemin raised an eyebrow before looking back at the road. What is he supposed to say now? "You look..."

"Look what?"

"Nice. You look nice."

"Oh." You muttered. "Thank you."

Just nice? Was he really this blind? 

He got silent again and he was trying to rack his brain, thinking of something to say. "Originally, it was just supposed to be me and you going on this date."

Now that was a surprise. 

He usually brought along others since he never wanted to do stuff without them. "Really? Then the others...?"

"Renjun  thought it would've been cool to tag along. And then Mark-hyung got hungry and then the other hyungs all got this weird idea to drag themselves to our date." He said as he stopped at a red light, waiting for it to turn green. "But honestly, it was supposed to be me and you. No lie."

"Are you sure Na Jaemin?" You asked as you played with the box. You didn't want to put on the necklace. Sure it was a gift and it looked really nice but it wasn't from that special someone. "Normally you wouldn't ask me out anywhere. You're always complaining that if we were to go out, I'd be awkward without the guys."

"It wouldn’t be awkward." Jaemin let out a small laugh and you just wanted to strangle him for making your legs go weak from that simple gesture. “At least I wouldn’t think so.”

“Whatever Jaemin.” You rolled your eyes.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you sure you’re okay?" He asked you. You were acting a little different than usual, he noticed.

"I'm fine, Jaemin." You sighed. "I should text Taeyong a thank you for the necklace."

Jaemin gave you a look and became silent. In all honesty, he actually got you the present. And the dress. He had feelings for you but he didn't know if you saw him the same way so he just faked it. 

How did you feel? 

You looked a little disappointed about it though. Don't you like it? Was it the wrong design? Did he say the wrong member? Maybe you liked one of the other members like Mark instead of Taeyong?

Pulling into an unvacated spot in open plains, Jaemin parked the car, pulled out his phone to send a group message to his members to go on ahead to the restaurant, and looked at you. "Okay what's going on?"

"Nothing, Na Jaemin."

"Okay, something is going on if you're calling me by my full name." Unfastening his seatbelt, getting out of the car and opening the passenger door, he took your hand and pulled you along with him. The night was getting a bit chilly and you were wondering why the hell he parked in some open space with no trees and stuff in sight. His hands on your shoulder, he turned you to face him. "Y/N, what's wrong? You've been like this since I got to your apartment."

You gulped and looked away from him. You took a deep breath and calmed your nerves before looking at him. 

You were going to tell him. You were going to do it.

"I need to ask you something and I want you to be totally honest with me." You said as you looked him in the eyes. Gosh this was going to be hard. "It might be awkward with us after this but I have to know how you feel."

Jaemin looked at you, uncertain what he should say. 

Did you find out that he liked you? "Uhh..."

You ignored him, looking down at the ground instead. Why did he have to make it so hard? Sure he didn't really say anything but he was just making you a ball of emotions. "I have kept this in for a long while and it's about time I was straight up and just confronted you about it. I hope this doesn't ruin the relationship we already have. I just need to know and I can't see any other way to get over this."

"Y/N..."

"It just doesn't seem fair on me if I don't get an answer. I want you to tell me truthfully, no matter what it is. I just want your honest opinion... But... Do you have feelings for me? Even if just a little?"

"Damn..." Was his only response before he closed the distance between you both and pulled you in for a hug. He squeezes you tightly, giving you only enough air to breathe. "What if I said yes? Yes, I have feelings for you. What if I said yes, I had feelings for you for the longest?"

"Oh my god." You whispered, your heart beating awfully fast. "Jaemin, I..."

"Do you have feelings for me too?" Jaemin asked, pulling back a bit to look at you. "I'm baring my soul out to you and you can't say anything? I even bought you the dress and the necklace."

He bought the dress and necklace? Your mind clouded at that thought.

And then it clicked.

Why didn't he want to hang out with you alone.

How it must’ve been awkward with his feelings for you.

"I do. I do have feelings for you Jaemin." You cried out as you took his hand in yours. "I don't know when it all started. But I feel like I'm just in a messy puddle when I think about you and everything. Like I can't even think straight."

He chuckled, seeing you flustered was adorable. "How so?"

"Like... I want you to touch me. And I want to touch you." You whispered as you looked down. "Oh my god. Did I just really say that? I sound like a sexually deprived woman."

He took your cheeks in his palms and made you face him. "Geez. You're rambling now."

"I'm sorry. I'm just so... So nervous. Gosh, you're gorgeous... WHAT AM I SAYING?"

He chuckled. "You're gorgeous too, Y/N."

"You're not nervous?" You asked as your eyes widened. "I'm just a ball of emotions when you're around and I can't seem to think straight."

Jaemin gave you a sweet smile. "I am nervous. But I love you for being you."

“Did you just say…?”

“I love you?” Jaemin asked, you nodding your head slowly. “Loud and clear.”

He snaked an arm around your waist and slowly looked you in the eyes. He gave you a sheepish smile. "At least we're confessing when the guys aren't here."

Minutes passed and he still held your waist. Looking up at him, you raised an eyebrow. "So what? We're just going to stand here?"

"What do you want me to—"

"Oh Jaemin," You muttered before grabbing his collared shirt and pulling him down for a kiss. " We do not have time for this, Na Jaemin. Just kiss me."

It took but minutes for the two of you to arrive back at your apartment and Jaemin couldn't keep his hands off you. Kicking off your heels as he kick off his shoes, you took his hand and led him to the bedroom. He followed you, squeezing your hands in his. You squeezed back, confirming that it'll be okay.

"Y/N, you sure?" His voice was soft and low, that it was just sweet music to your ears.

"I'm positive, Jaemin." You nodded as you opened the door to your bedroom and pulled him in. Facing him, you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck. "I want you, Na Jaemin. And I want you now."

"I don't know..." Jaemin whispered as he bit his bottom lip. "You are just so..."

"Nice? Beautiful?" You leaned up and kissed his cheek, trailing kisses to the corner of his mouth. "Or sexy?"

"Fucking sexy," He groaned out as he pulled you in closer and held your gaze. "You're making me go crazy, Y/N."

"Glad to hear that."

He closed the distance between you two and sensually placed a trail of kisses down your collarbone. You sucked in a breath, his fingers slowly tracing your bare legs as they moved up closer to the hem of your skirt. He moved his lips up to your neck, slowly giving your hot skin small kisses before reaching the edge of your lips. He gazed lovingly in your eyes, before slowly capturing your lips and running his hands up your legs.

"Jaemin..."

"Shh..." He whispered as he took your lips in his again. He kissed you deep and long, your mouth opened to his and he angled his lips over yours. His tongue teased yours and desire course through you and you just ached for him.

You never wanted a boy, no, a man, like this. 

In fact, you couldn't even remember not wanting, not needing, not aching like this before. You moved your hands to his shirt, undoing each button until his shirt hung open and you pushed it off his big shoulders. He unlaced your dress and slid it down your body, his lips going back to your neck and up back to your own. Clad in just your lacy underwear and he in just his pants, he gathered you close.

"Johnny was right." He stared down at you. "You do wear sexy underwear."

"I have to feel sexy when I feel adventurous like this.” You muttered.

"You'll look good in even cotton underwear." He chuckled as he fingered your panties. "But lace underwear makes you look even more sexy."

"Just shut up. We don't have time for this Jaemin..."

"We have plenty of time..."

Your arms slid around his neck and his naked chest pressed against yours. He ran his hands up and down your body, stopping only to peel the backless adhesive bra from your breasts and fling it somewhere around the room. The chill air hit your nipples, which hardened in an instant before Jaemin pulled you closer, skin touching skin.

"Oh my god." You moaned aloud as heat gathered in your womb and moisture dampened in between your legs. "Jaemin..."

"Y/N." He groaned your name out, as he slid your panties down your legs and proceeded to take his pants and boxers off as well.

You wanted more from him. You enjoyed that he was lovingly placing kisses over your neck, face, and lips. But you wanted more. 

You felt his arousal lay erect against your tummy and you slipped a hand between the space between your bodies to wrap it around his length. He groaned against your mouth and you stroked him, loving the sexy guttural noises he made.

He pulled you tighter against him and suddenly lifted you up where you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your most intimate place pressed against his toned stomach and suddenly throbbed. You felt his length, hot and hard, resting beneath your ass. 

You threw your head back as he rained kisses on your neck. He took a step back and you both tumbled on the bed, your legs fell opened and he laid between them, cupping your breasts.

His tongue toyed with your nipples and you moaned and gripped his shoulders. Your fingers dug into his flesh and faint mewling sounds came from the back of your throat. "Oh my god, Jaemin..."

"Shh... Entrust your body to me."

He shifted to lay beside you, wrapping one arm around you. His free hand explored your body, caressed each curve. You traced the valleys of his chest, his stomach, his fingers. His fingers traveled lower, his fingers tracing circles on your tummy. He hooked one of your legs over his, spreading them open for him, one finger sliding lower, caressing you, before sliding it into you. The pressure of his finger increased before adding another finger into you, your hips rolled into rhythm with his touch.

"Jaemin, I need you so much..." You whimpered, his fingers working wonders on you. Without warning, he withdrew his fingers and settled himself between your legs. "I need you to fuck me now Jaemin."

"Fuck, baby." Jaemin groaned. He leaned down to capture your mouth.

"Fuck me, Jaemin," You cupped his cheek. "I want this. I want us. Let's become one."

With a small nod, you felt his cock, hard and hot, nudge into you. Slowly he slid into you, filling you, completing you, and you knew how big he was and how full you felt when he made that one last push into you.

"You okay, baby?"

You nodded your head. "Fuck you’re big Jaemin."

"You feel so good, baby." He pulled back, his tip almost out before easing into you again, letting you get used to him. His strokes were slow, measured, and you felt every inch of him within you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, deeper, your body throbbing around him, his length pulsing within you. 

"Fuck…" He breathlessly moaned out as he moved. He filled you, sank into your body, sheathed himself in your heat. He increased the motion of his hips as he continued to move. You arched upward with loud moans. 

Stunning pleasures built inside you, passion gaining intensely as Jaemin continued to thrust, harder, deeper, faster, skin slapping on skin. The sweat covered your bodies, making him even more turned on. 

He moved faster, harder. You rocked your hips against his, both your movements growing faster, frantic. He thrust into you again and again and you meet his passion with your own. His need with yours. Faster and harder and hotter you both moved in a rhythm naturally.

"Jaemin... I can't hold on any longer."

"Me too... Let me—"

"No." You tightened against him before he pulled out. "Just come in me, Jaemin. Let's feel good together."

He just groaned in approval and you wondered if the intensity of pleasure tightening within you would destroy you and you didn't care. 

You wanted more, ached for more.

He pumped harder, hitting that one spot you craved until you cried out in mere pleasure.

And then release claimed you, shattered you.

"Ah!" You cried out, your body arched upward, and your body shuddered against his as waves of pleasure racked your body again and again. "Fuck, Jaemin!"

Jaemin thrust hard once more and his muscles tensed against you, releasing himself into you. He groaned and his body shook for a moment or forever.

Until he stilled and you clung to him.

For a long time, neither of you moved and you enjoyed him still buried within you. 

Still one with you.

For an eternity you laid together. Jaemin struggled to catch his breath. At last he withdrew and rolled to the side, pulling you close.

"Oh, fuck…" you murmured against him. "Jaemin... You..."

"Good?" He closed his eyes and sleepily opened them to look at you.

You let out a sigh. "Really, really good."

"Ha-ha," he chuckled as he cupped your cheek. "I just never imagined our first kiss would lead to our first night together."

"Even if we didn’t fuck and just went out on this date like you planned, how was it?"

"It's perfect." He smiled at you, as both your foreheads touched. "You are... I have never felt this way before... For anyone else but you."

"I love you, you know that?" You whispered.

"I love you too."

"What do we tell the others?"  You suddenly asked as his phone started to ring.

"That you fell sick and I took care of you?" He suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Like that will fool them. Mark is too smart for that." You playfully slapped his chest. "Probably figured out that we finally caved in to our feelings. He probably knows we fucked."

"That’s all true though. At least I don’t have to worry about sharing you with anyone." Jaemin rubbed your back as he rummaged for the covers and pulled them up over your naked bodies. "Let me just close my eyes and listen to your breathing and have you run your fingers through my hair."

"Tell me that you love me again, Jaemin."

"As long as you tell me that you love me."

"I love you, Na Jaemin."

"And I love you, Y/N."

He slipped his hand between your legs, his fingers sliding over you. You shuddered and rocked against his hand, slick with desire.

He placed his hands on your waist and drew you closer to straddle his legs.

"Jaemin," you said in a weak voice. It was more of a moan than a word.

"I know you want me again." He suggestively muttered. You giggled and burrowed your head in the crook of his neck as he hugged you closer and entered you.

Your mornings with Jaemin would be tiring and your days would be memorable. 

But your nights with Jaemin would simply be heaven.

[starleska]

welcome to...starleska's f/o round-up 2023! 🥳🥳🥳

below the cut is every single character i've had a crush on in 2023...and there are 30 in total!! 🙈💖 these are given in chronological order of fixation, and they are all new crushes (so re-entering a fixation for a character i've simped for previously doesn't count 😂) now be warned, this is a genuinely unhinged list. they are largely villains. one is a mushroom. one is a vehicle. one is a casino-themed duck-shaped robot. my autism is indiscriminate in the characters it fixates on, and they are all suitably embarrassing 😭💖 without further ado, here we go...

1. James the Red Engine | Thomas the Tank Engine

...shut up 😂💖 at the start of this year i truly lost my mind and fell headfirst into the Thomas the Tank Engine fandom (everyone there is so lovely and creative!!)...and of course, the vain train is my favourite 🙈💖 James is cute okay!! i don't need to justify myself!!! 2. 'Big' Jack Horner | Puss in Boots: The Last Wish

there's no way anyone missed this one - we are quite the tight-knit and dedicated group in the 'Big' Jack Horner fandom 😳💖 come on, look at him...a huge, powerful, obsessive, fancy-bastard collector with an affinity for magic??? he's stunning 🥴💖 i made so many lovely friends through gushing about this horrible man!!! we had so much fun making OCs to ship with him 🙈 one of the most intense fixations i've had all year, and one of the best villains we've seen in years...he is fantastic 🥰 3. Pizzahead | Pizza Tower

i don't know what's in the water of Pizza Tower but it's impossible to be normal about any character you like from that game 🙈💖 of course the evil sentient pizza slice took the top spot, he's so cartoony and ridiculous!!! the amount of power he exerts is also quite the draw 🤭💖 i'm not gonna lie there's a couple other characters from this game i may get into later...we'll see 😉 4. Fingers | Dead End: Paranormal Park

have you heard this guy's voice. can you blame me. deliciously evil fruity monstrosity with supernatural powers? sign me up to whatever sinister scheme Fingers has going on now or in the future 👉👈 he hits a lot of boxes...between the cabaret-style makeup, the posh, dismissive and manipulative personality and the inexplicable Eldritch body, he was always gonna be a crush 🤭 5. M.O.D.O.K. | Marvel

wheeze okay, this was originally a JOKE!!! @thelighttasteslikelasagna sent in this message joking that i look like i'd find M.O.D.O.K. hot, and i was really angry about it for five minutes...and then i discovered the stop-motion cartoon where he's exactly the kind of cringefail malewife villain i enjoy (in the Augustus St. Cloud vein), and the rest is history 🙈💖 definitely one of the silliest crushes i had this year, but he holds a special place in my heart :3c 6. Gargamel | The Smurfs

nah man i was on some serious mental illness at the start of this year 💀 i just can't help it when bad guys are like this, alright!!! Hank Azaria's performance as Gargamel is sooo silly and over-the-top, i couldn't help but love every second he was on screen 🙈💖 Gargamel's just a whole lot of fun!!! who doesn't love a magic-wielding freak hellbent on the destruction of a group of little creatures?? (i cannot and will not be taking any questions at this time 😶) 7. Wally Darling | Welcome Home

my God, the Wally Darling fixation hit the entire Internet like a train 🤭💖 soft-voiced, ambiguously-moraled rizz puppet that he is, how could we not all fall head-over-heels? i have to thank this guy for throwing me headfirst back into fanfic writing, as the whole Welcome Home story really inspired me...not to mention all the lovely folks who wanted to imagine different ways of getting to hold Wally's hand 🥰 hooray for our pretty puppet boy!! 8. Killa Harkan | John Wick: Chapter 4

...yes, i know, it's funny that Killa's the first of two cartoonishly evil German-accented bad guys with sleight of hand tricks and gold teeth on the list this year 😂💖 sitting in the cinema, the second he opened his mouth my partner just turned and stared at me, because they knew. i refuse to apologise for appreciating a really awful bastard - especially one who dresses so sharply 😉 9. Ian Hawke | Alvin and the Chipmunks

yet another member of the 'it started off as a joke...' club 🤭💖 listen, Ian serves!!! we can't resist a smarmy music producer/manage type, can we? Ian's in the same camp as Gargamel for being a deeply evil man whose capacity for doing harm is directed at little creatures. all i'm saying is, he can sign me up for a dodgy deal any day 🥴 10. Myc Cellium | Inside Job

i can't tell if it's my monsterfucker tendencies or my consummate attraction to Brett Gelman but the crass sentient mushroom got me down bad 😭💖 he's just such a menace!! he's got that intoxicating combo of being horribly socially inappropriate and an actual outcast...fellas, Myc was fixation bait for me 😭 11. Klaus Kickenklober | Sing 2

i don't care if you think you're not a furry, someone can and will get you from the Sing franchise, and that is a threat 🙈💖 yesss laugh it up, Star's got another stern and vaguely European cartoon villain added to the list 😂 i just find Klaus so impossibly delightful!!! he'd be a terrible teacher to have in real life, but in fiction, i think i could fix him :3c 12. The Spot | Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

ohoho, i know you guys were living for The Spot fixation because i remember your reaction to the x Readers 😉 look at him and his incredible design!!! the transformation of The Spot from weak laughable villain to reality-bending monstrosity had me by the throat...and i can't wait to see more of him when the next Spider-Verse drops 👀 13. Mad Mod | Teen Titans

MAD. BLOODY. MOD!!!!! i think our favourite British bastard has to take the crown (literally and figuratively) as my strongest fixation out of the whole of 2023, i lost my mind over this guy. he just consumed my every waking thought!!! 🙈 the style, the voice, the unbelievable engineering skill...Mad Mod is one of those once-in-a-lifetime f/os that you know you'll be obsessed with for a very long time 😳💖 i look back so fondly on those wonderful few months of Mad Mod fandom resurgence, and how that still continues today...here's hoping even more people find out about him and develop their own crushes 😉 shout-out to the lovely @iriso-page who suggested him and Music Meister to me 🙈💖

14. Control Freak | Teen Titans

sdfgdf okay back on form with the fat dweebs, i know, i know!!!! my ravenous Mad Mod fixation wasn't enough to ignore Control Freak, one of the most delightfully stupid villains in Teen Titans...!!! he hits all my buttons (ha!) and i genuinely think his design and powers are kind of epic. would love to see him utilised in the future 😉 (i am never beating the Discord kitten allegations...) 15. Ken | Barbie

well, this particular blond himbo was quite the surprise!! 🤭💖 i'm not usually the one to go for such a stereotypical hottie, but Ryan Gosling plays Ken as so unhinged and...off for the whole movie, he activated the same neurons which come with the weirdest of my crushes 🙈💖 Ken's a misguided sweetheart and i'd love to help him feel a little bit wanted;;; 16. Buck Ruffler the Duck Shuffler | Toontown: Corporate Clash

fell into the wonderful world of Toontown: Corporate Clash and imprinted on this fucker like...well, like a baby duck 😂💖 is this not the most spectacular design for an original Cog you've ever seen?! i love that Buck is an absolutely scrambled robot with a gambling addiction, and i think he'd be lovely (and hilarious) company 🥰

17. Barnaby | Billie Bust Up

ohhhh yesssss Billie Bust Up caught my attention with this sinister goofball!!!! fancy, flamboyant and very into murder...Barnaby has all the traits for any Tumblr Sexyman, and i cannot wait for the full game to drop so we can see even more of him 👀

18. The Mad Hatter/Jervis Tetch | Batman

Jervis Tetch my beloved!! this has been the year of fancy blonds in top-hats, as well as deeply silly hypnotists, and Jervis kicked off this trend with a bang 🙈💖 i'm a Mad Hatter fan generally but B:TAS Jervis is a special kind of pretty stalker, and that voice is delicious 🥴 thanks to him for kicking off an Alice in Wonderland fixation and for finally getting me into drinking tea...the things we do for our crushes, eh? 🥰 19. Music Meister/Darius Chapel | Batman

and here is the first character played by Neil Patrick Harris who made it onto this year's list!!! 🙈💖 another camp, theatrical Batman villain to add to my collection...gorgeous voice, such an immense sense of style, and wonderfully good fun!! i think more people should get a little obsessed with the Music Meister 😉 20. Buggy the Clown | One Piece

none of you can judge me for this one - i remember all the TikTok edits!!! 😂💖 Buggy is pathetic and so much fun - i wasn't expecting to enjoy him as much as i did!! although my fixation for him may have been short-lived, my love for him certainly isn't 🥰 21. Pat Butcher | BBC Ghosts

ohhhh, every now and again a little sweetheart will get me right in the feelings, and Pat Butcher is added proudly to my f/o collection as the second Yorkshireman (next to Salad Fingers 😭). i just love what an upbeat, lovely man he is!! he's so soft and warm to everyone he meets and tries his best to do everything right by his friends...i'd love to cuddle with him 🥺 22. Josh Levy | The Eltingville Club

a classic return to form with Josh Levy, à la Comic Book Guy and Control Freak...really telling on myself by collecting these horrible greasy nerds who would 100% call me something derogatory if i tried to talk to them 💀 i appreciate every last one of The Eltingville Club but Josh, as a failed writer who remains just as toxic as he was when he was a teen, is my undisputed favourite 🙈💖 23. Swan | Phantom of the Paradise

oh God, reawakening my crush on Paul Williams by discovering Swan damn near killed me!!!! 😭💖 i was so obsessed with this man as a kid and the moment i saw him as Swan in POTP i felt intense attraction and gender envy in equal parts;;;; Swan's whole aesthetic and demeaning, inhuman approach to people is impossibly sensual, and i can't overstate enough how little evil dudes in tinted shades will always get me down bad 🙈💖 24. Kinger | The Amazing Digital Circus

my love for Kinger was such a pleasant surprise!! 🤭💖 sweet, anxious fella that he is, all i want to do is get him out of that digital hellscape and ensure he can wrap up in as many blankets as he likes!!! i love his always-on-the-edge-of-a-breakdown portrayal and am so eager to learn more about him and his backstory 👀 25. Peter Gregory | Silicon Valley

ahhh, kicking it the old-fashioned way by getting extremely invested in the most autistic character on the show (and that's saying something, given the high neurodivergent coding of everyone in Silicon Valley 🙈💖). Peter's style and methods of communication are traits i simply find attractive in real life, and although he sadly wasn't with us long, he absolutely stole the show ✨ 26. 'Action' Jack Barker | Silicon Valley

given my love of nerds it's no shocker that Silicon Valley hit me with two f/os, and 'Action' Jack Barker - the tech-field Colin Robinson - was a surefire entry 😳💖 what is it about these milquetoast men who are so whitebread yet are capable of such terrible things which gets me every time?! Jack is such a fun character and i'm glad we got as much of him as we did 🙈 27. Avery | Pokémon: Sword and Shield

i cannot believe none of you guys told me about Avery, the most amazingly dressed character i've ever seen in the whole of Pokémon 🙈💖 shhhh he is so very pretty and petty and his powers are incredibly cool. i just love everything about him and would delight in helping him develop a real sense of self-esteem, because he does not deserve the dismissal he receives from his family 😭💖 28. Matthew Patel | Scott Pilgrim

oh my God, heart in my MOUTH seeing Matthew Patel get the glow-up villain arc he so desperately deserved!!!!! 😭💖💖💖 Matthew is just the epitome of style and power in Scott Pilgrim Takes Off, and it was so fantastic getting to see him grow as a character and get self-actualised. plus his fight scenes were some of the coolest things i've ever seen. Matthew can i have your number please 🥺 29. The Toymaker | Doctor Who

!!!!!!!!!! i don't know if you guys can tell, but i really love the Toymaker...and even predicted that he'd completely consume my mind months before we got The Giggle 🙈💖 e v e r y t h i n g about him just gets me so bad. his reality-bending, his teasing attitude, his ridiculous accents, his gorgeous costumes, his emotional inconsistency, his tragic backstory...god, if i so much as look at him smiling i melt 🥴💖 characters played by Neil Patrick Harris really get me!! i'm so proud to be modding a server dedicated to the Toymaker now, and have met so many brilliant, wonderful friends through him and falling back into Doctor Who!!! i think we're all going to be brainrotting over him for quite some time 😉💖 30. Dr Mark Fry | Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget

Dr Fry, rushing in at the finish line!!! 🤭 the second my pals saw this guys they were all spamming me, begging me to watch Dawn of the Nugget!!! and ooooh i was noooot prepared for the specific brand of soft creepy genius he is 💖 even if they'd played Dr Fry purely as your run-of-the-mill mad scientist he would've gotten me bad, but they just had to make him equal parts freaky and brilliant with just a touch of arrogance, didn't they?? Melisha scored well 🤤 (also, three whole Yorkshiremen in my collection now!! is it the accent? 😭) aaaaand that's everyone!!! phew, is anyone else out of breath? 🥵 what a wonderful, silly year of fixations this has been 🤭💖 thank you all for being here, brainrotting happily alongside me for some of these characters, and for all the other characters you love!!! i hope 2024 is awesome to you, and that many more fictional characters are around the corner, ready to make you smile 😉

[caeli0306]

chapter 21 of castles crumbling (aka Tales from the Airport Bathroom extended version) now posted!

Chapter 21: Late Night Rendezvous is now up on AO3: READ HERE

I thought I couldn't write a chapter longer than the last VSGTSAS chapter and I was clearly wrong. I was staring at this so long that I'm not even sure that it makes sense anymore but hopefully it does! Anyways roll tide please enjoy this 23.5k word chapter/monstrosity that my imagination concocted.

Summary:

Violet should already be dead. People whispered about her weak body and how she would never live up to her family's martial accomplishments. Violet rose above them all, however, fighting and killing to survive the Navarrian Intelligence Agency's brutal BASGIATH training protocol. Now, people whisper about Violet's swift ascension through the NIA's ranks as one of its most valuable operatives and assassins. The whispers don't matter to Violet: She has her own agenda, and it's a dangerous one - finding out what happened to her father.

But one mission changes everything: Suddenly, Violet finds herself in the crosshairs when she stumbles on information Navarre wants buried, and the country she fought for begins to turn on her. Violet knows too much, but she's determined to do what she does best: Survive. Her only hope is the son of the man who they say killed her brother, but their partnership is far from assured. Some grudges run deep, and trust is a currency too valuable to give freely. Xaden realizes Violet may be the key to everything, but with enemies seen and unseen closing in on all sides, the consequences of failure are deadly.

===

I forget all about stealth and sneaking and take off in an all-out sprint. I palm another dagger in my empty hand. Low-lying branches scratch at my face as I run, but I pay them no mind. Faster. I have to move faster.

This entire year, I’ve managed to get away with only killing the people who try to kill me first. The old Violet hangs on by the tips of her fingers, screaming at me in the form of my irrational decision-making, even as I’ve become more comfortable with the bloodshed and death with every life I’ve taken. I shouldn’t be running towards this person, in the vain hope that I can save their life without having them turn on me the second it benefits them. I should be thinking about my own self-preservation. People die here every day – what’s one more?

But I can’t turn that part of me off. I can’t ignore the small voice in the back of my head that tells me it’s wrong to turn a blind eye. And that small voice is probably going to be what gets me killed, even if it’s not today.

The trees thin ahead, giving way to a cliff that drops hundreds of feet, the same one Devera trained me to climb. As I get closer to the tree line, I see two people, one standing over the other.

I skid to a stop as soon as I can make out their faces.

It's Jack. And the person he’s standing over is Nadine, one of my squad mates.

Fuck.

[ashisgreedy]

“The Halloween Party”

POV: Garreth Weasley 

SFW

This was written as a collab story with the following amazing people(tagged)! We took turns writing for this story and it took off in many hilarious and dramatic tangents! One person would write a few paragraphs then send it off to the next person to continue. It was so fun to be a part of and I am grateful for everyone's involvement! The end of the segments will indicate who wrote which part. 

@greedyforgarreth - (GFG), @pandanscafanfiction (Pandansca), @daydreamsonacloudyday - (DOACD) @slytherin-paramour , @cuffmeinblack , @blueraineshadows ,  @junie-00 , @eternalremorse, @finalgirllx , @grandeoatmilklatte - (Oat),  @AurorSrag @sevprince-91 (AS)

(Please see the end where @slytherin-paramour drew amazing fanart of Seb-Skein!)

WC: 9,700

Garreth spent quite a lot of time preparing for his Halloween bash. Several cauldrons were bubbling. Some were filled with a mix of alcoholic drinks while others held concoctions Garreth had perfected over the years that would induce different effects on the drinker. He couldn't decide to tell people what the effects were or if they should just find out for themselves.

He definitely wasn't in it alone as he implored his friends to assist him with this massive party. Everyone in the school was making an appearance in the Gryffindor common room. He hoped that if any Professor did get tipped off they would turn a blind eye so the students may have one last party before they graduate from Hogwarts. He adjusts his costume and fixes a big smile on his face as he begins walking through the party while the music blasts through the magical gramophones.

(GFG)

Everyone was dressed incredibly festive. It was so cool to look around the large common area and attempt to figure out who was who under their masks and disguises- with the exception of a few. His older brother Oscar, for one, showed up in his quidditch attire ('how original') and Ominis didn't bother to put much more effort in his costume than a pair of cat ears. In any case, he smiled broadly and wore his own proudly, puffing out his chest as he raised a toast of something even he didn't know high in the air. "Cheers, mates!"

As he took a deep swig, Sebastian appeared next to him wearing… was that Azkaban stripes and broken cuffs? "What are you even supposed to be, Weasley?", he sneered.

Garreth pouted, offended that not one person could tell what he was. Wasn't it obvious?

(Pandansca) 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Sallow,” Garreth answered, rolling his eyes at the Slytherin. There had to be one person at his party who would figure out what he was. Maybe she would know, she always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

Before Sebastian could pester him about his costume some more, Garreth clapped him on the back and disappeared back into the costumed crowd, in search of her. (DOACD)

He stumbled a little when someone accidentally stepped on his costume as it trailed out behind him, turning to rearrange himself with a grin. "Woooah, easy there my friend! We wouldn't want to ruin this masterpiece would we?" 

He laughed as he gestured to the, quite frankly, fantastic costume that he'd been working on for weeks, before continuing to move through the jubilant crowd in the direction of the cauldron station. He couldn't help but give a little jiggle of his hips to the beat of the music as he went.

A giant, pink gaping hole lined with spikes entered his periphery. Several green leaves were stuffed around the edges of this person's collar. Garreth was very confused until his eyes honed in on a small bespectacled face protruding from the center of the monstrosity.

"Hobhouse? Is that you? What in Merlin's name are you supposed to be? You look like the vagina from my nightmare!" 

(Slytherin-Paramour)

Duncan puffed out his chest in a show of indignation, deflating quickly under the stares Garreth's outburst had attracted.

"No! I...do you really not know?" the Ravenclaw shot back in a squeaky voice.

Garreth grinned, a show of friendliness seldom bestowed on the boy. He'd never held any ill will towards Duncan; it just happened to be incredibly fun to wind him up a little. 

"What are you meant to be?" Duncan asked, his bespectacled face scrutinizing Garreth's fantastic costume.

"Never you mind," Garreth sighed, his attention caught by a melodic laugh that he'd know absolutely anywhere. "See you later, Hobhouse!"

Garreth dashed towards the source of the chuckle, barely audible over the cheers of 'nightmare vagina' aimed towards the boy he'd just left. (cuffmeinblack)

There she was. Beautiful, radiant, her eyes sparkling like new stars as she laughed, the sound of it making warmth spread through him as he gazed at her. Her cheeks were beginning to get that first pink flush from whatever she was drinking, enhancing her perfection in a way that made Garreth almost speechless. 

As he paused to admire his biggest distraction, a tap on his shoulder made him turn, his gaze lifting to meet with a face painted in greys and blacks. Surrounding this mask of horror was a tattered black hood, part of a flowing black robe that draped to the floor. It was enough to make one flinch, however, the warmth of those familiar brown eyes took away the chilling Dementor look that Leander had gone for this evening. 

Leander held up a drink, the vivid blue liquid smoking a little. "Is this the one that makes you levitate?" He asked. 

Garreth eyed it, a smirk lifting his lips. "Maybe, why?" 

Leander's smirk was even bigger. "Have you seen what Sallow has come as? If I drink this, I'm going to float over and pick a fight with an escaped prisoner," he chuckled. (blueraineshadows)

“That would be quite the show for our guests,” Garreth chuckled, “Let me grab MC first, I’m sure she’d love to see prisoner Sallow versus a dementor.” He nodded towards his target before beginning to walk towards her, the curiosity in him peeking when he couldn’t get a good look at her costume that was blocked by the bodies of her festively dressed friends surrounding her.

Leander's eyes roamed over her, a sliver between the students giving him a view of her choice of attire for the night. A quick hand stopped Garreth from moving any further, spinning him around so Leander’s eyes could scan him over, “Mate, are you two…” he paused before glancing in her direction once more, “Matching?”

As if it was the universe giving him yet another reason she was downright perfect for the Gryffindor, students cleared from her, giving Garreth a clear view of the girl who never failed to surprise him. “Brilliant!” Garreth trailed off as he excitedly pushed his way through students, his eyes never leaving the magnificent costume she proudly wore. (junie-00)

The various bells hanging from Garreth's belt jingled merrily as he approached MC with a great big grin on his face. His eyes trailed up and down, studying the ensemble that, in fact, did match his own.

"Seems you're a man of culture as well, MC."

Though his words were simply calm and friendly, the one brain cell in his head was bouncing off the walls of his skull.

"Of course! Though it almost got ruined because of one of your silly concoctions, the one that makes you croak and your throat swell like a bullfrog. Probably not the best idea for a costume party, eh? Nellie's costume got a little torn, actually, but that's probably for the better. It's a weird red suit with clown makeup and green hair. Maybe it's some sort of muggle thing."

MC took a sip of her drink, the metal claws on the ends of her fingers making small scratches in the ceramic as Garreth did the same.

(OPHOCC)

Garreth bit his lip as his eyes slowly trailed down MC’s outfit. If there was one person out of the whole charade of people he wanted to see here, it was her. MC noticed his stare and smiled smugly before nudging his shoulder.

“Now, now, Weasley, the night has just begun. Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves with the after-party thoughts already,” she winked.

Garreth chuckled and held up his hands. “Heh, you’re right. But I can’t help it when I see such a gorgeous woman right in front of me.”

MC giggled and a sudden hiccup escaped, her hand immediately covered her mouth in slight embarrassment. She then laughed and looked at her cup. “My word, this drink is getting to me already! It’s good stuff, despite the side effects.”

Garreth looked rather proud of himself in that moment. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re enjoying yourself and my brew. Maybe if you’re a good girl I’ll even give you the recipe for it. Top secret of course!”

MC raised an eyebrow. “Good girl? Garreth, what do you m-“ She noticed a commotion happening over Garreth’s shoulder. “Merlin’s beard! What is happening over there?” (eternalremorse)

Garreth’s head swiftly spun to see the racket happening behind him, and the sight to behold left both himself and MC standing speechless. The surrounding party-goers appeared to have the same reaction, as, seemingly in unison, all attention was suddenly on the spectacle before them. 

Someone had gone all out and dressed up as a Hippogriff. But this wasn't just a simple costume, it was a life-size recreation of the beast. The longer Garreth looked, he could gather that one student formed the front while another, less fortunate, was tucked inside the rear, mostly hidden from view. The sheer scale of the costume and some minor collisions (one which even sent poor ‘nightmare vagina’ Hobhouse tumbling) had drawn everyone's focus.

As gobsmacked as Garreth was, he felt a sense of obligation to find out who made up this horrific ensemble. He took a deep breath, gave MC a gentle pat on the shoulder, and mustered some of that Gryffindor bravery to approach the peculiar, two-person costume. He would need a stronger drink after this. 

"Um, hello there," Garreth began, wondering if the duo inside the costume could even hear him. “Might I ask who you are?” (finalgirllx)

Garreth heard a soft muffled voice come from the top half of the Hippogriff. He recognized it immediately as Poppy. “Don’t you recognize me?” she shouted, trying to make her voice carry considering the thickness of the costume. Garreth laughed. “Merlin’s beard Poppy, how did you pull this off? And who’s the other half of your costume?” 

A symphony of grumbles suddenly came from the second half of the costume. Garreth could not make out what was said, but he could tell whoever was in there was not happy about their predicament. “Imelda!” Came Poppy’s muffled voice once again. “We made bets on the Quidditch game. I bet that if Slytherin lost, she had to be the bottom half of my costume. She was pretty cocky about it, swearing that there was no way Slytherin would lose to Hufflepuff, alas, here she is!” Poppy’s voice was especially cheerful about this as if she was absolutely loving Imelda’s misery. 

Garreth was thoroughly impressed. He turned to the table closest to him, grabbing a drink off the table. He went to hand it to Poppy before realizing there was no way for her to drink it. “Well, Poppy, this costume is incredible. I’d toast to your effort, but I imagine you can’t drink through this.”

“Oh actually, you can pour the drink into my mouth, I added a funnel on the inside for drinks. As for Imelda, you can pass her a drink from the back.”

Garreth obliged, pouring a drink for Poppy down the Hippogriff’s mouth, where there was indeed a funnel. He awkwardly made his way towards the back of the costume, jumping as a hand emerged from the Hippogriff’s butthole, snatching the drink from Garreth’s hand. Garreth simply laughed and shook his head, turning away from the Hippogriff to find MC again, the various objects glued to his hat jingling as he walked. (Oat)

But this was Halloween, the night of chaos and Poppy’s Hippogriff was just the beginning of the show.

True to his words, Leander did take the drink that was supposed to make him fly and was prepared to execute his plan. He stretched out his hands, his sleeves being extra-large, covering his hands and he positioned himself like a dementor would and went for Sebastian, who had his back to him right now, talking to Ominis.

Neither of them had any idea of what was coming.

Duncan felt something hovering above his head and he lifted his head out of his pink flourishing tentacles, right in time to see a dementor floating above his head and he gave a squeal.

Everyone looked up and then someone shouted, “Sallow, behind you.”

Sebastian looked up and gasped. The horror of watching a dementor for real made his blood run cold and he forgot the time and place until Leander spoke up,

“Your soul is mine Sallow!”

But instead of a hoarse ghost-like voice that Leander intended to produce, a high-pitched squeaky voice out of the dementor’s robes made everyone roll on the floor with laughter.

“My voice,” Leander pressed his hands on his mouth and swirled backward but alas he couldn’t get himself down. “Get me dowwwwwwwwwn!” He squeaked. “Garreth! Get me down.” He swirled in the air shouting in his squeaky little voice.

Garreth ran underneath him, his arms extended hoping to catch him in case he falls, his bells madly jingling around his belt. MC ran behind him, her wand out and pointed at Leander, trying to get him down. 

“Sebastian, Ominis, stop laughing and help us out here.” 

MC yelled at the pair, as she ran madly to save her friend, almost tumbling poor Duncan Hobhouse, and his tentacles right into the butt of Poppy’s hippogriff, making Imelda lose her balance as she fell on the ground with Duncan above her and the costume splitting into half, from the middle, turning it into a half-ass Hippogriff now.

“Duncan fucking Hobhouse!” Imelda yelled as she desperately attempted to remove the butt of the Hippogriff costume from above her head and pummel Duncan hard on the face. (AS)

Garreth's eyes desperately sought out the location of his bubbling cauldrons. He really was too sober for this. His eyes landed on a purple brew that he had completely forgotten the effects it had. He decided to take a ladle full of the purple brew into his cup and a ladle full of the pink brew just next to it. He resolved that at least one of them was alcohol and would get him drunk. With his eyes closed, he chugged down the entire cup.

A loud crash of the window made him choke on the last gulp of his drink. Garreth wiped the back of his mouth and turned around to see Everette pummeling through the crashed window on his broom. He was waving something in the air that let off several small fireworks. People below him ducked and weaved out of the way of the sparks. 

Garreth smiled at the display of mischievousness from an obviously very drunk Everette, who most likely had been pre-gaming well before the party even started. MC was already using the repairo spell on the window and Garreth gave her a thumbs up. 

Garreth poured a second cup of his concoction and rushed over to Everette as he landed on wobbly legs. "Cheers, mate!" Garreth handed him the mixed drink. Everette took it enthusiastically and started to take a sip. 

"Thanks! But, uh..." Everette looked Garreth over, the bells and claws decorating Garreth's person making him squint. "What exactly are you dressed up as?"

Garreth frowned "Isn't it obvious?" He swayed, realizing very quickly exactly what potion he'd just downed with his alcohol. (GFG)

Rule number one: never forget your own brews; a mistake he made for not the first time, and especially not the last. He blinked erratically and stumbled over his own feet as suddenly his vision went inverse- the entire room was upside down! Or- well- was it? It certainly seemed so. He didn't remember creating a potion like this but he had mixed two of them together.

Garreth looked around the room with wide eyes as he watched everyone walk along the ceiling as though it were perfectly normal. Even Amit was sitting comfortably in the chandelier as though it were an armchair (wait- wasn't it an armchair?) Good Godric, he was plastered), giggling to himself as he sipped on a drink and tried to nail Leander in the head with magical shooting stars. 

"Stop moving, Prewett!", he slurred.

The Gryffindor rubbed at his eyes and blinked once more as he took in the Ravenclaw's rather… alluring attire. "Um… Amit? Did you lose a bet?", he squeaked.

Amit looked at the ginger as though he had two heads. "Garreth, my clothes are quite normal.", he called back. But since when was a corset, bloomers, and thigh-high stockinged normal?! "You, on the other hand, are rather confusing." The raven-haired boy mumbled as his eyes grew more disgusted and perplexed by the second. "What are you, again?"

Garreth opened his mouth to reply when a curiously green spell suddenly shot right past his head, singing the wall opposite him. "What in the-?!"

(Pandansca)

Garreth looked to the origin of the spell and saw a puffskein.

Wait–a puffskein?

What in Merlin’s name was a puffskein doing at the party? And why was it floating around, completely unbothered with everyone and everything around it? (DOACD)

He swayed a little where he stood, his eye's trying to focus on the small, hairy creature that he now realized was most certainly gripping a wand between it's teeth. Green wisps of magic residue emerged from the tip of the wand and Garreth let out a bellowing laugh at the sight. Somehow, he made his way to the puffskein without falling on his arse and picked the little fuzz ball up, holding it in front of his face with a grin.

"Hello there fluffy fellow, how did you get in here? And whos wand did you steal?" 

He booped it on the nose and tried to pry the wand out of the creatures mouth, only for the Puffskein to clamp down and start writhing furiously in Garreth's arms. 

"Woaaah, calm down! Oi!" He had almost dropped the frantic creature when Ominis appeared beside him, panting and trying to catch his breath. He held his wand up and sighed in relief.

"Oh thank Merlin, you found him! Quick, we need to change him back!" 

Garreth's alcoholic, potion influenced brain became even more confused by Ominis' words.

"What...change who back?" 

The blonde boy gestured to the angry little beast currently trying to roll it's way out of Garreth's arms.

"That's Sebastian!" 

(Slytherin-Paramour)

Garreth's eyes slid out of focus as he tried to process the information, not trusting his drink-addled brain's slow responses amongst the thoroughly irate bundle of fur now trying to roll out of his arms. He looked down at the puffskein, noticing the tufty chestnut fur and big brown eyes, his lips curling into a grin as he realised that oh yes, this was Sebastian alright. Ominis' wand was ready, the incantation to return his friend to his human form on the tip of his tongue.

What a waste that would be.

Garreth bolted, clutching the fluffy menace against his chest as he sped through the crowds once again, trying his best not to go arse over tit with the way his vision swam and the room made absolutely no logical sense. Why was the Hippogriff's arse now tumbling across the ceiling? Did the sofas always have mouths? The only thing he knew was that the cocky, self-satisfied, altogether too handsome Slytherin Sebastian Sallow was now a ferocious little puffskein, and Garreth wasn't about to let Ominis change him back before the entire castle got a peek. He spotted MC once again, her beauty just about the only thing not addled by his questionable concoctions, and Garreth held Sebastian above his head with a triumphant grin spread across his face.

"Guess who this is?!" he shouted across the room, ignoring Duncan's hysterical screams. (cuffmeinblack)

The party goers nearest to him glanced up, the irate puffskein now snarling in ways that definitely didn't sound accurate, the wand clenched in its teeth waving dangerously around the room. Laughter echoed and a few names were called out as Ominis pressed himself through the crowd, cheeks flushed and brow furrowed. 

"Hand him over, Weasley," he demanded. He aimed his wand in Garreth's vague direction, the tip of it blinking brightly.

Garreth chuckled. "But he looks so adorable!"

MC appeared beside Ominis, her eyes narrowing in on the little growling ball of fur. Her eyes then widened, a gasp leaving her lips. 

"I know that wand!" She exclaimed. She put her hand to her mouth, horrified laughter bursting from it. "Who did this?! That's Seb!" 

"What? No!" Leander burst past MC, his Dementor painted face aghast as he stared at Puffskein Seb. He gave a panicked look towards MC. "Please tell me he can be changed back?" He squeaked.

MC narrowed her gaze. "Why do you care?" 

Leander realised everyone was staring at him and his blush was so dark it showed through his face paint. "No… no reason," he stuttered. 

Ominis turned with eerie accuracy, his wand aimed right at Leander's nose. "If this was you, Prewett, you'd better start begging," he said. (blueraineshadows)

Garreth slowly blinked when he tried to follow the commotion unfolding as Ominis pressed his wand against Leander’s nose, but his efforts were in vain when different effects of his mixed potion began to take over his brain. It seemed as if the students were becoming one with their costumes, contorting into ferocious creatures right in front of him. His eyes widened as the students began to close in on them, his palms covered in a thick layer of sweat and his mouth becoming dry from his gaping mouth, paying no mind to the slytherin puffskein wrestling in his loosening hands.

“What the fu-” He whispered to himself before the ball of fur was hastily snatched from his hands.

“Come on!” MC hissed as she tugged Garreth by his arm, nearly dragging him behind her while holding Sebastian snug against her chest. Not so surprisingly, the slytherin turned beast was willingly resting in her arms as she burst through the crowd of students.

Garreth tumbled behind her, his feet failing to meet her fast pace, “Where are we going?” the goggle eyed Gryffindor mumbled as he looked around at every student he passed that looked like they morphed into their costumes. His head shooting to look behind him as he heard Ominis shout their names.

“You’ll see,” she panted as she looked back at Ominis, picking up her pace when she noticed him trailing behind them, “I want to have my fun with Seb-skein before Ominis turns him back!” (junie-00)

MC began sifting through the crowd for a particular Ravenclaw. One that claimed to “feel braver” after she did the dirty work for him finding that Giant Venomous Tentacula, yet he got all the credit for it! But what could she do? She was a naive fifth-year at the time and wanted to be liked by everyone. Maybe it was time for a little vengeance.

She spotted Duncan talking to Amit and Andrew Larson, she smiled and pulled Garreth close, nodding towards the trio. Garreth could barely make them out with the potion effect still in full swing.

MC hushed her voice a little bit. “Seb, I’m going to need your help here.”

She looked down at the brunette Puffskein whose eyes looked up at her with curiosity. She must admit he was super cute as one of the little creatures.

“See Duncan over there? I’d like you to give him the biggest fright of his life for me. For taking all the glory for the Giant Venomous Tentacula leaf he claimed he got himself from the hidden Herbology corridor.”

Garreth heard what she said and his eyes widened. “Waaaaaait, that wasn’t Dun-kein?” he slurred. MC giggled at shook her head.

“It was all me. I felt kind of sorry for him at the time.” She lowered Sebastian to the ground and winked at him. “Go get him, Seb-skein.” (eternalremorse)

Sebastian bounced his way over to the Ravenclaw, whose back was facing him as he chatted with Amit and Andrew. Both of the boys paused when they noticed the angry ball of fur behind Duncan, who was still babbling away, completely unaware.

“Uh…Duncan…” Amit started, trying to get the boy’s attention as Sebastian growled, the wand in his mouth pointed up towards Duncan. But it was too late for the poor boy, as the moment he turned around, he was hit with an array of spells being shot at him from the furry creature. 

Duncan screamed as Sebastian continued to shoot little blasts at him. He attempted to run, but tripped, landing on the floor. The entire party stopped what they were doing to watch as Sebastian dropped his wand from his mouth and jumped on Duncan, bouncing on him a few times before he began to nip at him, Duncan screaming and flailing his arms the entire time. Everyone was laughing, but Garreth could only focus on MC’s laugh. His glassy eyes kept darting back and forth between the madness in front of him, and her. 

Ominis pushed through the crowd and almost went to grab Sebastian, but he too couldn’t help but burst into a fit of laughter when his wand informed him of the scene he had walked into. (Oat)

Leander came floating at the commotion and attempted to grab Seb-skein as he attempted his final favorite trick of shoving his tongue into Duncan’s nose. He will never be able to get over the nightmare of tasting Duncan’s boogies but the fun was worth it. 

Garreth however watched MC with glassy eyes, mesmerized by the tinkle of laughter coming out of her lips that he so wanted to kiss for a long time now. An absurd urge filled him all of a sudden and for a moment he felt like nothing he would do now could go wrong.

So amidst all the commotion of Duncan vs Seb-skein, Garreth almost lunged at MC, grabbed her shoulder, turned her towards him and kissed her! (AS)

A short time later, as everyone forgets the commotion and Duncans's screams, Garreth finds Puffskein Sebastian on the arm of one of the couches in the common room. Someone had put sunglasses on him and replaced his wand with a glow stick. The small creature's head bobbed to the music, eyes closed as he grooved to the beat. 

Garreth knew he needed another drink, the room was finally flipping back to right side up. He pet Seb-skein on the head and smiled. "Puffskein must be lightweights, you're positively sloshed." He chuckled and then made his way to the cauldrons again. 

Before he could make it all the way, Imelda, the ass of the hippogriff forsaken, popped up in front of him. She crossed her arms and eyed him. "I hate parties." She said, loudly so her voice wasn't drowned out by the music. 

"Oh.." Garreth frowned a bit "Well, I could offer you a drink? Or, would you like to play a party game?"

Imelda crossed her arms. "I didn't say I hated YOUR party." She scoffed. "A game then. And be quick with it."

Garreth smiled. "A game it is!" (GFG)

While he ladled a different mix of concoction for the two of them, he mused over what sort of game they could play. His hips swayed to the music while he sipped. The party was getting into the thick of it, now; loud, thumping dance tracks as magic, pulsating orbs of light strobed to the beat in the much darker space. But the flashing lights gave him an odd sense of lost deja vu.

'Wait… Didn't something big happen earlier?' There was an odd lapse in his memory and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't remember anything past Dunkan getting his bogeys licked by Sebastian up until now… How did he get here, with Imelda? Not that he was complaining; she was lovely company. But even still… wasn't what he was forgetting important?

His brows dipped and he handed Imelda her drink but the thought of losing something brought upon a fabulous idea for a game and his eyes lit up. "How about a scavenger hunt?!", he offered.

Imelda's smirk was downright predatory with her characteristic bout of competitiveness. She took a swig of her drink and huddled close, her arm wrapping around Garreth's shoulder and pulling him close. "State your rules."

"No one else can know about the game. First person to get all items and meet back at the home base wins."

"And what does the winner get?"

Garreth thought for a moment. "A wish granted- Something doable and within reason. And the loser can't deny them."

The gears were already visibly turning in Imelda's mind as her dark eyes roamed over his lips. "You'd better hope you have more endurance than me, then.", she quipped and took a long chug of her alcohol before crushing the cup in her hand and tossing it aside. "You're going to need it for my wish." Garreth flushed fiercely. "Now- What are we hunting tonight, Weasley?"

What to hunt for indeed…

(Pandansca)

Garreth found a spare piece of parchment and a quill amongst the chaos of the party, and he and Imelda began coming up with their list of things to hunt for. There was something Garreth couldn’t quite remember, something at the edge of his memory, but it kept flitting away as they came up with item after item.

It couldn’t be that important, could it?

When they finished, he made a copy of the list with his wand and handed it to Imelda, who shot him a smirk before sauntering off in her ass end of a hippogriff costume. He reread the list, the words swimming in his vision for a second before he got them to focus again. He grabbed another concoction and downed it before setting off to look for the items on the list. (DOACD)

He chuckled to himself as he glanced over the first couple of things that he needed to find. This was going to be fun. Or an absolute shit show. It was a fine line to be perfectly honest. The fuzziness inside his head was giving him a ridiculous confidence boost, and he set off in search of a certain haughty, blonde Slytherin. 

Ominis had given up on his quest to turn Sebastian back into a human, for the moment. He had thoroughly enjoyed it when his hairy little best friend had tormented Duncan Hobhouse afterall. 

He was sitting on one of the large leather sofas now, swaying side to side and singing along to whatever song was blaring from the gramophone. A goblet of fire whiskey was held precariously in his left hand and he had tucked his trusty wand behind his ear.

The sofa suddenly tilted him to the left when Garreth cannonballed himself into the leather beside him, the shock making the poor Slytherin jump up and spill half of his whiskey backwards over his shoulder. 

"You have a beautiful singing voice, Ominis!" Garreth's deep tone slurred into his ear from beside him. 

Ominis blushed despite his rage at the dopey Gryffindor. 

"Garreth! You've fucking soaked my silk shirt! …But thank you for the compliment I suppose." 

Garreth leaned in close, wrapping an arm around his friend and brought his lips to the blonde's ear. 

"You're very welcome, pretty kitty." His carded his fingers gently up through Ominis' hair to tug on the little black cat ears. 

Ominis stilled, his breath caught in his throat. He was about to speak when he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head and heard Garreth's voice call out cheekily.

"Yoink! I've got it! Sorry Ominis!" And he jumped up and ran away holding a couple of the Slytherin's beautiful hairs.

(Slytherin-Paramour)

Garreth was on a roll, and feeling increasingly intoxicated. The last concoction he'd thrown down his throat appeared to be mostly alcohol—whisky, he'd guess by the burn in his throat. At least the common room was the right way up now, but it was becoming harder to walk in a straight line as he staggered through the crowds.

The next item on his list should be easy enough, he thought as he plunged his hand into a bowl of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. A Ravenclaw tie. Popping the beans in his mouth, he gazed around the room for his next target, spotting Everett mingling with a now traumatized Duncan. The taller bespectacled boy was rubbing the smaller on the back, suspiciously gently. If he was more sober he could have sworn it was a caress.

"Alright, Everett, Duncan?" Garreth grinned at the pair. "Can I borrow one of your ties?"

"Bugger off, Garreth," Everett replied.

"I...what?"

"This is your party, and look what that fluffy menace did to Duncan!"

Garreth tried to suppress a smirk, but his self control and inhibitions had flown out the window with his last drink. With a snort, he burst into laughter, causing an irate Everett to drag Puffskein Dunkein off through the crowds. By the time he'd stopped chuckling and dried his eyes, they were nowhere to be seen and Garreth was no closer to securing his next scavenger hunt item. He needed another Ravenclaw.

Scanning the room again, he saw MC perched on a sofa petting Seb-skein with a lazy smile, and his stomach gave an odd sort of lurch that had nothing to do with his dubious potions. MC. She'd been something to do with what he'd forgotten, he was sure... The thought didn't have a chance to fully form before he felt a searing pain on the back of his head and his vision faded to black before he hit the floor. (cuffmeinblack)

Snatches of muffled sound teased his ears and blurry images appeared through slow blinks of his eyes as a dull throb clamped around the back of his head. The room swayed dangerously as he was bodily lifted, hands holding his arms and legs, and then he felt a softness against his back.

"He looks a bit pale…"

"So would you if you took a whack to the head…"

"Who levitated that lamp anyway…"

"Merlin knows, it's bloody chaos in here…"

Something brushed up against his forehead, and there was an irritating bouncing pressure on his torso. Garreth flapped his hands at it, his coordination poor, and he thought he heard someone laugh as his hand brushed against something fluffy and warm. He blinked a few times, his vision swimming into focus. 

Heads were bent over him, a mixture of amusement and worry on their faces. MC was the closest, her smile just utter perfection as he met her gaze.

"Hello handsome," she said. "Decided to rejoin the party after all?" 

Handsome? He'd take that! He gave her a smile, his mouth trying to form words, but he had no idea what he was going to say. He was just happy to see her face. "Heh… wuv… y..you.." He mumbled. 

The irritating bouncy pressure returned on his chest and a brown, furry puffskein appeared right in front of his nose, it snarled, brown eyes flashing, before it's tiny mouth clamped down on the end of his nose. 

Garreth shrieked as laughter pealed out around him, MC wrapping her hands around a snarling and chaotic Seb-skein in an attempt to get him off. (Blueraineshadows - Raine)

As MC tried to pull the angry ball of fur away from Garreth, it only caused him more pain. The small, but razor sharp teeth had a death grip on the point of Garreth’s nose, clamping down harder with each tug from MC.

“Sebastian! You’re hurting him!” MC yelled as her grip tightened, Garreth’s face being hauled upwards and whimpers escaping his mouth with each desperate pull, “Merlin, you’re a strong son of a bitch!” she murmured through gritted teeth as she yanked Sebastian with all her might. 

“MC stop, you’re making it worse!” Imelda shouted as she nudged MC out of the way, replacing her spot in front of Garreth and beginning to pinch and poke at Sebastian in hopes of finding his sweet spot to make him release the Gryffindor's nose.

A quick pluck of one of his whiskers did the trick, the small but deadly creature let out a yelp and set free Garreth, Imelda quick to pick up Seb-skein and put the single whisker in her pocket, “I needed this for the scavenger hunt, thanks you little shit.” Before Sebastian could sink his teeth into her scowling face, Imelda tossed him to MC like a toy she had no use for anymore, making her way next to Garreth to begin comforting him, putting a napkin to his bloodied nose. 

MC stood with Sebastian tucked against her chest, her face turning red with anger and jealousy as she watched Imelda cuddle up next to Garreth. As she was about to march over to the two, she heard a familiar slytherin cast a spell towards her.

“Vertohumano!”

The chatter and laughter disappeared and were replaced by gasps and screams. Before she could blink, the once adorable fuzzy ball that rested in her hands transformed into a grown man, a naked grown man, who unfortunately happened to be Sebastian.

Her face glowed a bright red with embarrassment. Her arms were wrapped around his bare torso, the tips of her fingers just barely grazing his manhood. She was quick to yank her arms away with a horrified shriek, the attention that was once on Garreth was turned towards a very naked and humiliated Sebastian. (junie-00)

MC quickly removed the mustard yellow poncho she wore about her shoulders and wrapped it around Sebastian, covering his shame. As Garreth watched this, though, he felt his hands ball up into tight fists, which was rather uncomfortable due to the claws of his costume digging into his skin. But it didn't matter because how could she touch him like that? Especially in that state?

Meanwhile, Sebastian silently thanked MC for her assistance before practically bolting out of the room and back to his bed. It would be safe to assume that he wouldn't be returning to the party out of sheer mortification. However, Garreth only remembered the scavenger hunt when he spotted Imelda plucking a ladle out of one of the drink cauldrons, which was coated in a rather unappetizing thick, green substance. The game was still on, and Garreth needed to catch up quick! (OPHOCC)

As the urgency of beating Imelda in the scavenger hunt weighed on Garreth, he tapped his chin animatedly, plotting his next move. What had he been looking for? A Ravenclaw tie? He'd needed to find another Ravenclaw student and fast, knowing how badly he'd already messed up with Duncan and Everett this evening. Given how scantily clad Amit's costume had been, he'd quickly crossed off Amit as an option. He'd certainly not have a tie to spare. 

Garreth suddenly recalled another Ravenclaw he had yet to approach: Andrew Larson. Yes, he'd spotted him before. And if memory served, Andrew had dressed as a... pirate, was it? 

Garreth was aware of Andrew's long-standing infatuation with him since their fifth year. He harbored no resentment toward Andrew for this, given how earnestly Garreth himself had pined for MC before she had given him a chance. While he wasn't one to take advantage of someone's feelings, Garreth's frazzled mind somehow rationalized that this might be the perfect opportunity to address his jealousy over MC and Sebastian while securing that elusive Ravenclaw tie. Up the charm a bit, perhaps a slight accentuation of his bum, and he'd be good to go, or so he figured.

With this fool-proof plan in mind, Garreth embarked on his mission to locate Andrew Larson, who’d be lingering somewhere in the increasingly chaotic party. (finalgirllx)

Garreth stumbled through the party goers, locating Andrew standing by one of the cauldrons, pouring himself a cup of who knows what. Garreth walked up to him, prepping up his good ole Gryffindor charm. “Hey Andrew! Great party, huh?” He shouted over the booming music. “You’re a pirate, right?” 

Andrew looked up at him, and although Garreth was in no place to talk considering how wasted he was himself, he couldn’t help but notice how drunk Andrew was. “Heeeeeey you…fiery little redhead!” Andrew slurred. “You’re looking real cute tonight! *hiccup* What are…you s’pposed to be anyway? *hiccup* 

Garreth sighed, having given up on anyone else besides MC knowing his costume. He ignored the question entirely this time. “Hey mate, could I borrow your tie? I promise I’ll bring it back!” Garreth gave Andrew a flutter of his eyelashes. 

“Oh, of course!” Andrew slurred again as he removed his tie from his waist incredibly slowly. “You can undress me any time, baby!” 

Garreth took the tie from his hands. “Thanks buddy! I appreciate it!” But as he turned to walk away, Andrew put his hand on Garreth’s shoulder. Garreth turned around, expecting him to say something, but within a second of turning around, Andrew was puking pink sludge onto the floor, with quite a bit of it splashing on Garreth’s big red boots. (Oat)

“Woooooah!” Garreth jumped up. He didn’t know whether he should run or help the poor Larson, who had been puking most likely because of his some eerie concoction. Perhaps comforting a puking Larson would be just the perfect way to show MC. And so he did.

He went around Larson, stood behind his rear, holding his hips instead of his back or shoulder that a normal person would do to help a sick person. He rubbed the side of his hips, mumbling words like, “there, there, better out than in. Let it go Andrew my boy.” 

Imelda paused her hunt and watched the pair, her jaw open wide. She winced and cleaned the vomit off the floor. Andrew was now done throwing up and he was now leaning on Garreth’s shoulder, staring up into the depths of his sea green eyes. “Gaarrethhhhhh,” He mumbled, huddling close to him.

Garreth gave one of his cheeky smiles to him and then looked up to see if MC was watching this. 

“Ohhh Ayyy, finally Garreth and Larson!” Someone cheered and the entire common room noticed them now, clapping and whispering. 

“Get a room, boys.” Someone else jeered.

Garreth looked around and stared at a very fuming MC standing at one corner, fuming. Her face red and her lips curled into a thin line as she watched Andrew leaning over Garreth and their arms wrapped around each other.

It got even worse, when out of nowhere Andrew tried to press a kiss on Garreth’s cheek, but he noticed and shifted his head and his kiss accidentally landed on Garreth’s lips.

A huge roar and whistles filled his ears and he just saw a wild mane of hair whipping out of sight and the portrait of the Fat Lady closing. (AS)

It was less than pleasant, the taste of the kiss. Garreth stumbled back and his hand moved to catch him, but it dipped into the cauldron and he fell back onto the ground. The drunk crowd seemed to understand the situation and pulled Andrew back and helped him sit on the sofa. Garreth stood up, shaking the liquid off his arm. 

“Sssorry!” Andrew slurred and dropped his head down. 

Garreth gave him a tight smile. “All good, man.” he wiped the back of his arm and looked around for MC. His stomach dropped wondering what she was thinking. He took a scoop of cauldron liquid and swished it around his mouth in an attempt to cleanse it. He spit it into a nearby planter thinking that was the best course of action in his drunken stupor. 

“Andrew, huh?” MC’s voice came from behind. 

“N-no!” Garreth stumbled dramatically. He tripped forward and MC caught his fall. However, they both tripped with Garreth’s weight and she landed on her back while Garreth was on top. 

He popped his head up and their mouths were inches away. He eyed her and his heart hammered in his chest. 

“Wow, this guy really gets around.” A Hufflepuff murmured as they watched the two on the floor.

MC heard these words, breaking her trance, and pushed on Garreth’s chest to get him off. Garreth wasn’t helping much since the memory of the scavenger hunt came to mind again. 

He leaned in, lips brushing over the shell of MC’s ear. He could feel her hold her breath from this close. He hummed and finally whispered. “I need one of your socks.” (GFG)

  MC reeled back and despite the now rosy hue of her cheeks her expression shone scandalized. "My sock?! Garreth- Haven't you done enough crazy things tonight?" She steered him toward an (mostly, I mean- Grace and Nellie were having quite the passionate snog on it) empty sofa before settling next to him. "You're incredibly intoxicated and you're acting so strange."

Okay, yes, he'd probably had at least three too many concoctions this evening. But there was so much at stake now! He couldn't stop! Especially when his double vision caught sight of Imelda snatching a hair from a now incredibly drunk Ominis before disappearing back into the throng. A shiver of dread (and… arousal? Huh.) raced down his spine at the thought of the Slytherin winning. He could guess clear enough what her wish would be.

He turned to MC. "You don't understand! If I don't win this scavenger hunt, Imelda is going to do unspeakable things to me!"

More confused than ever, MC stared long and hard into her crush's glittering green eyes. Wasn't it not long ago that he'd kissed her…? She could still feel the warmth and taste of him on her lips. She longed more than anything to return his affections, but ever since the kiss he'd acted as though it hadn't happened at all! Her heart fluttered for him but she was receiving so many confusing, mixed signals from him. And his drunken kiss with Larson also hadn't helped matters… Was she just another party game to the Weasley? And after she'd gone through so much tireless dedication to mimic his costume… "Garreth, I don't know…", she muttered.

(Pandansca)

“Please, MC,” Garreth begged, taking her hands in his, the claws from their costumes clinking together. “You can’t leave me to the mercy of Imelda. I have to win.”

MC narrowed her eyes at Garreth, still debating on whether or not to help him. “What exactly does Imelda intend to do to you if she wins?” MC asked.

Garreth swallowed hard, his eyes wide. “I think she wants to devour me,” he breathed, and MC gasped before she furrowed her brows. 

“Not on my watch,” MC said, a look of determination in her eyes. (DOACD)

She gripped Garreth's hand tightly in hers before pulling him along behind her. He nearly stumbled with the force that she dragged him with. Her eyes scanned the chaotic room in search of the Slytherin girl who was so clearly trying to get her claws into her Gryffindor. She found Imelda in a secluded corner of the common room, busy packing away a blue tie into her satchel. She looked up with a smirk as MC and Garreth pulled to a stop in front of her. 

"Oh, it's the competition." She looked at the red head with sultry eyes and then at MC. "And the other competition." 

MC frowned, eyes narrowing. 

"I hope you're ready to pay up, handsome. I've got this scavenger hunt in the bag. Literally." She patted the satchel beside her. 

MCs grip tightened around Garreth's fingers causing him to let out a small "Ow!" 

She took a step closer to Imelda, her magic flaring as she attempted to control her emotions.

"I don't know what you think you're planning, Reyes, but you see this? She gestured at Garreth. He's mine." 

With those words, she turned to look at the flustered man behind her, his mossy green eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and confusion. She reached up to grip the back of his head and pulled his face down to meet hers, lips pressing against his softly. It only lasted a couple of seconds before they parted, foreheads resting against each other. 

Garreth couldn’t take his eyes away from hers as she whispered. 

"You're mine." 

(SLYTHERIN-PARAMOUR)

Those lips, that taste...they were already familiar. Memories came flooding back to Garreth as MC kissed him, hazy but undeniably real. That's what he'd forgotten, that odd sort of niggle at the back of his mind when he'd looked at her afterwards—they'd kissed, right here at this party! No wonder she was nothing short of miffed about Andrew and now Imelda, and the possessive darkness in her eyes intensified by the intoxicated glaze was startling.

"Since when?!" the shrill exclamation came from next to him, and he looked up to see Imelda's furious face only inches away.

MC was already rounding on her, and the way she settled into a duelling stance and wand appeared out of nowhere indicated she was deadly serious about her claim.

"Go and crawl back into the rest of your hippogriff and I'll forget you ever tried it on with my man," MC spat at her.

The confrontation was already drawing interest, Imelda's wand at the ready as Garreth watched in awe. He vaguely wondered if he'd accidentally brewed something to induce this madness, but the thought was interrupted by a loud bellow.

"FIIIIIGHT!"

Andrew Larson had stumbled into the commotion, another drink in his hand as he pointed at the two girls. Onlookers had started chanting along with him—fight! fight! fight!—it looked too late to stop the inevitable. It might have been dangerous, and he should try to stop it, but never had Garreth been so turned on as he watched the two girls fighting for him.

(Cuffmeinblack)

He blinked a few times, swaying slightly as he eyed both girls, awed by the determination on both of their faces. Imelda held her habitual scowl, eyes piercing towards MC. You had to admire the nerve of her. Facing off against the Crossed Wands Champion was nothing to be laughed at, and Imelda was not backing down. Garreth raised his eyebrows in respect, but then remembered the challenge and her prize. He touched his fingers to his lips and thought of MC's kiss. He'd definitely like more of those. 

He swung his gaze to MC. She looked formidable, her face set as she stared down Imelda, her pretty mouth in a determined line. Garreth felt something stir deep inside of him, utterly separate from the cocktail of creations mixing together in there. She was marvellous. And he'd had the balls to kiss her. He puffed his chest out a bit at that. 

"You can do it, darling," he said proudly. 

Imelda's mouth tightened, her gaze barely flicking in his direction, filled with rage.

MC took advantage of the distraction. To be fair to Imelda, she didn't even see it coming. With one flick of her wrist, MC shot a bolt of magic from the end of her wand in a wordless charm, it speared through the space between both girls and hit Imelda's satchel with a blast of blue and white sparks. Imelda yelped and jumped back, staring in horror as the bag full of her challenge winnings dissolved into ash. 

MC smirked. "Not so smug now, huh, Reyes?" She quipped. "I'd like to see you try and win now."

Imelda went pink, then red, then a hideous blend of red and purple as she glared, fists clenched. The growl of rage that left her mouth was impressive, and Garreth immediately jumped behind MC, peering sheepishly over her shoulder. 

(Blueraineshadows) 

A few heartbeats stretched into an eternity as Imelda contemplated her response to MC's destruction of her finds. She began to take heated steps in MC's direction, the crowd audibly gasping as tensions flared.

As attractive as a fight between two women over him may have been, Garreth realized it was time to summon his lion's courage. He needed to stand up for MC and stop this from getting worse. Just as he prepared to step forward and give Imelda a piece of his mind, an unexpected figure intervened.

"Enough! I said stop it now," Amit's voice boomed with surprising authority. His scandalous costume seems to fuel the respect he commands rather than detract from it. Everyone stopped in their tracks to listen. 

"This is meant to be a fun celebration, not some feud!" Amit continued his tone firm. He pointed in Garreth's direction. "Especially not over him," Amit added.

"None taken," Garreth replied with a timid chuckle.

"Enough with the seb-skeins, hair plucking, and potion testing. Let's act like respectable young wizards, for Merlin's sake," Amit pleaded to his fellow partygoers. 

The lingering question remained: as sexy as this newfound authority looked on Amit, would they actually listen? (finalgirllx) 

Garreth looked over at MC, who seemed to be considering Amit’s pleas for peace. Her expression was soft as she sighed, turning to Garreth. Her mouth opened as if she was about to say something, but within a second of her turning, she was on the ground, Imelda having taken advantage of MC’s eyes off of her and tackling her.

Imelda straddled MC as the two girls began to slap at each other, screaming and blocking each other’s hits, while the other students cheered and began their chanting of “Fight! Fight! Fight!” once again. MC’s wand fell out of her hand when she was knocked down, leaving her defenseless. Although MC was wandless, she wasn’t allowing Imelda to overpower her, giving her a few good slaps in the face as the girls fought. Garreth watched in horror, wanting to peel Imelda off his girl, but being a little afraid to get involved. Deciding once again that it was time to summon his lion’s courage, he came up behind Imelda and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up and off MC.

Once Imelda was up, he watched her turn to face him. He then felt an excruciating pain in his nose as the once loud room fell silent. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, not until he felt a warm liquid begin to coat his lips - blood. Imelda had punched him in the nose, hard enough that he had begun to bleed. 

“Oh no! Garreth I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to!” Imelda began to panic, but her panic was interrupted by MC, who had grabbed a handful of Imelda’s hair, shoving her to the floor, her wand pointed in her face. “HOW DARE YOU!” MC screamed, shooting a silent spell at Imelda that resulted in dozens of spiders appearing out of nowhere, chasing Imelda up the stairs of the common room to a symphony of laughs from the other students. 

Once Imelda was gone, MC turned to Garreth, who had already been handed napkins by other students, trying to stop the blood that was gushing from his nose. “Oh, you poor thing!” MC shouted. “Let’s get you to the hospital wing now!” She grabbed a hold of Garreth’s hand, leading him out of the Fat Lady portrait and into the quiet halls of Gryffindor Tower (Oat)

MC took Garreth by his hand towards the hospital wing. It seems the commotion has already wiped off the effects of his potions on them both. Garreth was holding on to his nose that was now bleeding profusely under the effect of Imelda’s Chaser strength punch, that was directed towards MC actually.

MC stopped on the way watching him bleeding down his nose to his costume now.

“Oh you poor thing, come here,” she cooed, bringing him closer and inspecting his nose. They sat down on a stone bench nearby and MC brought out a handkerchief out of her sleeves and dabbed slightly at his nose.

Garreth blushed.

The whole evening had been something for him. They have kissed...... twice. And then her and Imelda had been fighting over him and lucky for her that he got the punch. And now he was alone with her away from all the commotion. He blushed heavily as MC dabbed at his blood and pressed onto his nose to stop the bleeding. He winced as the pain hit him again.

“I am sorry.” She whispered, tears forming at the brim of her eyes, her eyes now widened with fear at the sight of Garreth’s never stopping blood.

“It’s okay.” He tried to speak through his broken nose. “It wasn’t your fault. I can handle it. Thank Merlin, she didn’t punch you like that.”

MC closed her eyes and let the teardrop down her eyes.

“Hey, MC, don’t.” Garreth said, now holding her face in his hands.

Sod the bloody nose, he will bleed to death; it doesn’t matter. But right now MC’s tears were more precious.

“Come here you silly girl.” Now it was his turn to console her. “I told you, it’s not your fault. It was all for fun. But I loved how you claimed me like that in front of everyone. You are the Hero of Hogwarts; everyone will want you but you chose me!”

“Of course I chose you. I will always choose you. I have always wanted you, ever since I stole those Fwooper feathers for you in fifth year. Who do you think I am wearing this costume for?” She said, looking up at him now.

Garreth’s eyes darted between their strange costumes of the evening, the one he completely forgot about and now he remembered.

Long forgotten was their trip to the hospital wing. Now they both sat under the star dazzling autumn sky, watching each other like they were seeing each other for the first time again. (AS)

He looked over at MC under the glittering night sky. His hand went up to cup her cheek as a smile grew on his face. The night had been so strange but it felt nice to get some fresh air and to finally be alone with MC. 

She smiled at him as they lay in the grass, eyes on one another, completely ignoring the beautiful night sky. MC had yawned first then Garreth realized just how sleepy he was feeling. His eyes became droopy and he couldn't keep them open anymore despite his effort. He felt his body relax next to her then he was swept off into a dreamless sleep. 

It felt like only seconds had passed when someone was shaking him awake. He blinked into the sunny bedroom and looked around in confusion.

"Where's MC?" He asks, rubbing his eyes and noticing he's in his pajamas and not his costume. His surroundings were also different. He had just been outside, so why was he back in his dorm?

"MC?" Leander gave his friend a look. "I don't know. She's probably in her dorm? Come on man, you've got to wake up. It's almost noon and we have so much more planning to do for tonight!"

Garreth set up, his head swimming with the sudden movement. 

"What do you mean, what's tonight?" He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. 

Leander gave him a look. "Mate... it's the Halloween party tonight in the common room. We've still got drinks to make and decorations to put up."

Garreth was suddenly more awake. "The Halloween party?! But that was..." His head swam from trying to recall the night. Had it all been a dream? 

He went back into his fuzzy memory and recalled some of the crazy things he saw that could not have possibly been reality. He thought of Seb-skein and Amit's ridiculously sexy costume and furrowed his brows. The kiss with Andrew and Imelda being the ass of a life-sized hippogryph costume... 

"Was... none of that real?" He whispered. Garreth looked at his hands as if they were foreign to him. 

"Garreth, come on man. We've got a lot to do if we're going to throw an epic party in a few hours!" Leander tossed Garreth's robes onto the bed. 

Garreth frowned. That means none of the kisses were real and that him and MC were in fact, not a couple. The more he awoke, the more he realized that he'd dreamt the entire party. 

An idea grew in his mind and Garreth tossed off his covers and quickly stood up out of bed.

"There we go! Now come on! We've got to-" Leander's words were cut off by Garreth rushing past him. "Gar!?"

Garreth turned to his friend and smiled "I'm going to ask MC to be my date to the party tonight!" He began pulling on a decent shirt and fluffing his hair in the reflection of the window. 

Leander's face lit up. "It's about time you made a move! Maybe you two can wear matching costumes." (GFG)

The amazing fanart @slytherin-paramour drew as promised! Seb-Skein!

Thank you for reading and thanks to those that joined in! This was a blast and really help rein in the Halloween spirit! 🦇🎃

[libraryledge]

Only Human (A Suspenseful School Story)

A/N: In honor of Halloween, someone challenged me to craft a story about a character having a scary encounter with a teacher. As I was writing it, the images of Timothee Chalamet on the set of Marty Supreme came to mind because his attire reminded me of a college professor. Although my story has no relation to the film, I used the photos as inspiration for what this professor would look like. Enjoy the final piece!

Everyone was scared of him. He was the substitute professor that no one wanted to be left alone with. He filled in for teachers when they couldn't make it to class or were feeling under the weather.

He would drop in on a random Wednesday morning, and the dreaded sound of his brown loafers clinked upon the marble floor of the hallway. He always carried a black briefcase, whose contents remained a mystery. The rumor was that it housed a black list of all the students that clashed with him. Others suspected that he had dirty secrets stored within the confines of his case. There were even a few rumors were too foul to recount. Whatever the case may have been, there came the fateful day when I found myself sitting in front of him as he stormed into the classroom and slammed the dreaded briefcase onto my absent English professor's desk.

Upon first entering the room, I placed myself toward the back, where most of my peers were seated, but he wasn't having it.

“No. No. None of that,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Come to the front. How do you expect to learn anything if you're hiding back there?” 

His look was unreadable, but one could only infer the pleasure that he felt by having such control over the room.

“Turn your books to page 394,”  he announced to us, with an indifferent air. “Clearly you haven't made much progress since the last time I was here, which to be fair wasn't quite long ago.”

He said this as if he was annoyed at our teacher for falling ill once more. Working at a university was a hotspot for contracting a nasty virus, so it wasn't unheard of for teachers to miss class due to illness. However, I had to agree with him that it was happening more often than not.

“So, Dr. Frankenstein. Was he a villain or a hero?” the man said, thumbing through the pages of our assigned reading book absent-mindedly.

Someone at the back of the class scoffed and replied, “How could he be a hero when he very clearly released a monstrosity upon the world?” 

Still flipping through the pages of his copy of the book, the professor looked at him over the rim of his wired glasses.

“Okay, so he's the villain then?” he prodded. The way he stared intensely at my classmate brought a chill down my spine. 

“Maybe…” the student replied, clearly stumped.

The professor's eyes roamed the classroom, looking for the next victim to call upon. Desperately not wanting to be singled out as the next target, I took the leap myself and I raised my hand.

“Yes? The young woman in the front,” he said, motioning toward me.

That was another thing about him that was so obscure. Despite being only a couple years older than us, he always referred to the students as “young man” or “young woman”, which made it seem like he lived many more lifetimes than us.

“I’d say that Dr. Frankenstein was neither a hero or a villain. He was simply a human who contributed something into the world that he could no longer control,” I said, slowly making contact with his green eyes.

The professor nodded slowly. “Alright. Can you elaborate upon that perspective?” he asked, as he thumbed through the novel. 

I took a deep breath and continued, “Well… it's like when you bring a child into the world. Yes, you’re responsible for teaching them and shaping them into a productive member of society, but you're only responsible for them to a certain extent because then they turn into individuals with minds of their own.”

I heard the sound of indifferent murmuring coming from the back of the room. I shrugged and quickly added, “I don't know, it's just my opinion.”

The professor looked at me with an unreadable expression upon his face. He looked as if he was mulling over how to respond. 

Eventually, he broke the difficult silence and said, “That's just your opinion?” he repeated.

I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or not so I nodded hesitantly.

“I have the strong belief that our thoughts are not “just opinions. Instead, they are the foundations of ourselves, but if we're too afraid to own them proudly..." he said, looking at me. “...or voice them out loud at all..."  he continued, his gaze trailed across the entire classroom towards the students who were clearly not interested in the lesson, “...then will we ever make any progress at all?” 

“Whether Dr. Frankenstein is a hero or a villain is irrelevant. What matters is how you approach your perspective of him. Humans are unique beings with individual minds and points of view, but if we're all so close-minded and afraid to be wrong, how will we ever learn?” he said as he closed the book and placed it on the desk with a sigh.

I shrunk in my seat under his gaze. Tears prickled at the brim of my eyes from the intensity.

“You both clearly have a strong perspective on the topic, but you need to own those views. Have confidence in them,” he said to the other student and I.

I heard my classmate mumble obscenities under his breath at the professor. Whether the man heard them or not was unclear. Regardless, I figured that it was best that the teacher didn't respond.

The professor sighed and took a seat behind the desk. 

“For the rest of class time, I want you all to write about why people are afraid to speak up for their opinions,” he said. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he directed the final word at me.

I slouched further into my seat in frustration just as my classmates began to protest.

“That's not fair! You can't assign us work that is not part of the curriculum!” protested a girl to my right.

“Oh, but I can if it will help you understand the material better,” he countered, his eyebrows twitching with obnoxious amusement.

Turning to face the entire class he continued, “So I suggest you begin writing. Class concludes in thirty minutes.”

A collective groan filled the classroom as I reluctantly began to write.

It wasn't fair. I was the only one who actually gave him a decent response, and he still managed to pick on me. I studied the teacher intently. With his old fashioned sweater vests and oversized blazers, it wasn't as if he was the image of perfection.

Therefore, I began to write. I wrote non-stop for the next half hour as I listened to the sound of the clock overhead, ticking down the minutes. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard the professor clap his hands intensely to gather our attention.

“Alright. I hope that by now we’ve found a response to this calamity of confidence,”  he proclaimed.

I rolled my eyes and was certain that he saw me, but he didn't acknowledge the gesture.

“I need someone to share their writing aloud with me,” he said. “Any volunteers?” Unsurprisingly, no one raised their hand.

I held back a smirk as he stared back at the class, which ironically hadn't learned from his so called lesson.

That's when I raised my hand. I'll show him, I thought.

Seeing my hand in the air, he responded with the hint of a smile as he nodded and said, “Ahhh! One Brave soul. The floor is yours.”

I stood up and began to read from my paper.

“As a society, we are afraid of being wrong. We don't want to be seen as strange for having views that are different from the rest. There are certain people who are so intimidated by others around them and are afraid of making a fool of themselves in front of them. They don’t realize that others are just as afraid as they are, but they are simply better at masking it," I said.

“For instance, like I mentioned before, I believe that Dr. Frankenstein is neither a hero or a villain. He's just a man who is afraid to face the repercussions that his ideas brought into the world. I firmly believe that. Although it might be intimidating to say this in front of an audience whom it may seem knows better than us…” I looked at the professor dead in the eyes as I read this part. 

“...this is clearly more than “just my opinion”. It showcases my views of how humans are more than right or wrong. We’re nuanced, and no one is exempt from learning from their experiences,” I concluded.

The professor began to clap slowly. “Impressive,” he said. “Glad to know at least one person took something away from today's exercise.”

The clock struck the top of the hour, and everyone was anxious to get out of the classroom, which was evident by the rustling of backpacks and shuffling the feet.

“Okay. I know you are all in a hurry to leave, but don't forget to finish the reading tonight. Your professor will know if you don't,” he said.

I picked up my copy of Frankenstein and stuffed it into my bag. I was in a hurry to get out of that classroom. I did not want to spend another moment with that obnoxious professor.

Just as I got out of my seat and headed toward the door, I heard a voice call out to me.

“Uh…miss?”

It was the professor.  I grimaced internally. Couldn't he give me a break? I turned to face him with a blank look upon my face, and he motioned for me to come closer. My classmates exchanged weird looks amongst themselves over his sudden action. 

“Good luck!" one of them whispered sarcastically in my ear, as he headed out the door.

I ignored him and walked towards the teacher. 

“Yes?” I asked, with an arched eyebrow, uncertain of how to respond to the summoning.

“I want to thank you for your honesty today. I really appreciate when students take the lesson to heart,” he said sincerely.

“You're welcome. I only spoke what I felt was my truth,”  I replied with a shrug. I observed him anxiously, uncertain of his ulterior motive for calling on me.

“That's important,” he said, with a nod.  At this point, we were the only two people in the classroom.

“I know you and your peers must hate me for being so uptight all the time,” he said as he gave me a wry smile. “I don't blame you because believe it or not, I'm only a few years older than you all, and I've had my fair share of professors that I’ve butted heads with.”

I stared at him, contemplating how to respond.

“Then why pick on us? On me? I'm the only one who bothered to respond to your lecture properly, and you still humiliated me!” I exclaimed.

 A look of guilt crossed his face. “I'm sorry that you felt that way. I'll admit that sometimes I take it too far, but it's only because I see potential in students.”

I was surprised by his apology. I'd never seen him so… Dare I say human?

“I've overseen many classes of students, and it's always the same. They're consumed by the fear of being incorrect and don’t speak up for themselves. I see that in you, and that's why I wanted you to gain confidence in your views,” he continued.

“You're right. Most people are simply better at masking their fears from others. Ironically, I preach about self-assurance as a manner of coping with my own fears,”  he said, as he adjusted his glasses upon the arch of his nose.

“What do you mean?” I questioned, almost incredulously, at this man who I found it difficult to believe was intimidated by anything.

“Something most students don't stop and think about is perhaps how anxious professors are. All those eyes staring at them, lessons to prepare for, and the constant judgment from fellow staff members, especially when someone is at the beginning of their career. Perhaps students may not see it this way but instructing them in the power of courage and confidence not only helps them, but it gives me a purpose as well,” the professor replied with a shrug. “Kind of strange, huh?” 

I'd never witnessed the professor be so honest and vulnerable. In a way it was quite touching to see him be so truthful with me.

“I guess it's not so strange," I admitted. “Going back to my opinion on Frankenstein,”  I said, emphasizing the word “opinion” which prompted a smile from him. “We're all just people learning from our experiences. Sure things can be scary, but not everything or everyone is what meets the eye.”

The professor chuckled, and that was the first time I'd ever heard him release such a genuine laugh, which in turn made me smile.

“Well, I don't want to keep you any longer. I appreciate our little chat,” he said as he began to pack up for the day.

He opened the famed black briefcase, and I held my breath at the realization that I would finally be able to see what was inside.  As he did so, a glob of something sticky spilled onto the counter.

At first I was surprised, but then chuckled as I realized what it was: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

The professor rolled his eyes with a slightly abashed smile and said, “I guess you know my secret now. This briefcase is just what I use to store my lunch in. It makes it less of an easy target for prankster students. Trust me. I'm not going back to the days of having my sandwiches stolen.”

I chuckled. As we stood there in comfortable silence for a moment, I couldn't help thinking how I misjudged him. Here he was teaching us about the power of self-worth where he was struggling to get by himself. He had a tough love way of teaching and building us up, but his heart was in the right place. Deep down, the professor was just one of us. Not good or bad. Only human. This was one belief that I would stand my ground on because that was nothing to be afraid of.

[spiritoffox]

If I was writing a Dungeon Meshi AU of SVSSS, it would probably go like this (MoShang, sorta!BingYuan and implied QiJiu, kinda hopeful/YMMV ending(?), spoilers for DunMeshi):

- Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan are elf siblings (possibly twins haven't decided), born at the bottom of elven society

- SJ manages to gain enough money with both legal and illegal stuff to be somewhat respected (but nowhere near the level of the elf noble families) - he is also something of a rogue

- SY (still a transmigrator, the younger brother) gets accepted into a very good Magic school on a scholarship - mage, specializes in monsters etc. which makes his possible employment opportunities as a court mage/mage somewhat limited outside of dungeons (and they don't have the generational wealth nobles have to do whatever they want, they need to have a paying job)

- the brothers clash a lot over each other's choices which also results in some alienation between them

- SY goes off to study dungeons, SJ stays to build his growing empire of not-completely-legal activities

- SY gets known enough as an expert to get permission to go into various sealed/etc dungeons with the Canaries to study them (the Canaries are like the elven dungeon investigators/guards made up from nobles' children and convicts)

- Years pass in this stalemate between them, then one day Yue Qingyuan (elf, childhood friend, rediscovered heir to a noble family) arrives at SJ's doorstep to tell him that his brother was last seen entering a sealed dungeon months ago and not coming out since then. Additionally the dungeon started growing again which means that it likely has a new lord

- SJ decides to retrieve his brother (or his corpse then resurrect him then scold him a fuckton about being stupid)

- YQY can't go with him, but he can put him in contact with some adventurers

- months pass (bc traveling and making arrangements takes a lot of time)

- meet Shang Qinghua (still a transmigrator, also a dwarf now, rogue/cleric), his hubby Mobei-jun (ogre... what? I like the size diff... - warrior/mage btw), their buddy Liu Qingge (tall-men, warrior) and his sister Liu Mingyan (tall-men, mage/warrior) - there is a lot of multi-classing in this idea but eh

- and a warrior Luo Binghe (elf/tall-men) whom SQH is adamant they must take with them into the dungeon (because SQH is fairly sure that LBH's protag halo works just as well in this dunmeshi AU as it did in his novel)

- a few groups of the Canaries are camped outside the dungeon, not letting anyone in or out, monitoring the situation, preparing to storm and destroy the dungeon before monsters start spilling out

- so they (SJ and co) sneak into the dungeon, fighting monsters etc and eventually coming across some of the previous Canaries' bodies

- a lot of them were so destroyed/died too long that they couldn't be resurrected, SJ has a mini breakdown what this might mean for SY

- meanwhile we get a look at SY's side of the story, learn that they ran into a strange tall-men named Xin Mo in the dungeon and who turned out to be the dungeon's demon in disguise

- Xin Mo sweeps SY away and they make a deal, thus SY becomes the new dungeon lord

- he lives a quiet life studying the monsters in the dungeon (possibly mashed with his modern memories so the dungeon would start reflecting those too which would make SQH freak out a little while others are like "what twisted mind would come up with these concrete monstrosities" etc.) and creating new monsters too and there is a Luo Bingge look alike too tending to his every need (this LBH is made up of SY's memories of og!PIDW!LBH and some monsters)

- XM also feeds off of him and fanning his desires so that he can devour SY and break out of the dungeon eventually

And that's what I have atm. It would likely have a somewhat angsty ending with SJ not reaching SY in time so he gets half/mostly devoured and then how they all have to live with that. So like a hopeful ending bc they succeed, SY is alive but also really injured etc. but he could get reasonably better eventually.

[evicted-oc]

Admin: hey I'm still alive :D I haven't done a main post in so long and I'm slowly getting back into it! I felt like doing a little bit of angst so here's this monstrosity. Keep in mind I'm not a writer. Except more writing in the future! I want to progress this bot more

A bit of background knowledge: Hœnir's original home was constantly at war with another group. They fought for years and neither side were winning. The leaders of both groups decided to offer up their best warriors to give to the other side. Hœnir happened to be one of them who was traded off. They would torture Nir constantly. It took Nir years to escape and ever since then, they have been looking for him.

Warnings: my shitty writing skills, kidnapping, torture, stabbing, force fed glass, blood, broken bones, beating

Arawn was sitting at a table along with some of the other Celtic and Norse gods. They all had a meeting planned and more gods started to trickle in. Arawn was bouncing his leg nervously and chewing on his lip. It was rather quiet amongst the gods, they all could hear his platformed shoe squeak as it bounces on the marble floor.

He taps his finger on the arm rest before clearing his throat to break the silence. "Has anyone seen Nir recently?" He asks, scanning the other's faces. Most mutter quietly, trying to think back to the last time they saw the small god.

"I saw them yesterday at their café. He gave me a cookie." Morrigan speaks up softly, already starting to get worried. "I've had an off feeling all day... do you think?-" She gasps and covers her mouth. "No it couldn't be them. Would they really do that?"

All the gods and goddesses eye each other sadly before collectively getting up and preparing what they need.

*28 hours earlier at Hœnir's café*

It was around 8 at night when Hœnir was closing up their café. They locked the door and put on noise canceling head phones. There was some loud noises going on outside and it was giving him a headache. The only thing they could hear was his own thoughts. They quietly humed to themself as they cleaned up around the café and tidied it all up. He stood up straight and took a minute to look around at everything, making sure nothing was out of place.

Just as he was looking over the café, a group of three people snuck up quietly behind him. One of them took a cloth and put it over Nir's mouth and the other two held his arms and legs still.

Nir was thrashing around and attempting to use their powers to get out of the unknown peoples grips. However, whatever was on the cloth prevented Nir from using any of their powers. His eyes slowly rolled back into their head as they fell unconscious.

*back at Asguard*

Morrigan was focusing on trying to find Hœnir. Due to some of her powers, she can sense where any sort of violence and disruption is. Her eyes shoot open when she finally can see a glimpse of Nir. "He's there."

Those were the only two words she got out before Arawn, her, Cailleach, Donn, and Balor got up to leave. The other gods were on stand by and watching from the sidelines, ready to jump in.

Loki said their goodbyes to Donn, doing their best to hold back any tears. "You die and I bite you." She mumbled to Donn, who only chuckled in response. They share a kiss and Donn leaves to go to the chariot.

Arawn was facetiming his boyfriend, mumbling quietly to keep their conversation private. He puts the phone in his pocket, but doesn't hang up. He zips up the pocket and follows close behind Donn.

"Am I the only one excited for this?" Cailleach bounces. "I'm ready to make people sick!" She squeals as Morrigan nods her head in disappointment. Balor grins and wraps an arm around Cail. "I'm excited too~ I haven't hurt anyone since I got locked in that damn cell." He fixes his mask and pulls both Cailleach and Morrigan to the chariot. And with that, the five gods and goddesses were off.

Below this cut has a bit of a torture scene! Please read the warnings

*It has been 32 hours since Hœnir has been captured. They have been taken to a dungeon and is tied up with enchanted rope. During those many hours, they have been hit and kicked countless times, and both of his legs are broken. He's positive one of the bones in their legs have been shattered*

Hœnir is exhausted. They don't know how many hours they have been awake for. They just want to fall asleep and hope this nightmare will be over. His legs were aching from being forced to sit on and because both were bent at angles that shouldn't be bent.

It was silent in the room. Hœnirs eyes slowly started to fall close. He thought he was safe at the moment. They let their guard down as they slowly fall deep into their thoughts. Nir was ripped away from that trance by a heavy kick to the side. Loud crunching can be heard which causes Nir to grit his teeth, trying their best to fight off a pained whimper.

They do their best to keep a straight face, not wanting to show any pain or weakness. His nose scrunches up slightly when his hair was grabbed, forcing his head back. One of his kidnappers was holding up a small bag full of glass shards.

"Remember this?~" They ask with an evil grin. Any colour left in Nir's face dropped. "No-" he barely mutters out before his mouth his forced open.

"Oh yes you do~ now open up. This will only hurt for a bit~" He laughs and grabs a shard of glass, shoving it into the back of Nir's throat.

*back to the 5 gods/goddesses*

The five godly beings arrived at the destination. They made it into the building quietly before all hell broke lose. There was about 40 people waiting inside for them.

*I'm really bad at fight scenes but basically it takes the gods about 15 minutes to defeat all of them*

Morrigan stood up once she defeated the last person. She stretches her arms up and wraps the deep stab wound she has on her arm. "Its been a long time since I've done this- I'm rusty as hell."

Cailleach runs over to Morrigan and hugs her tight. "I got to fight people!" She squeals happily. There was one person still barely left alive. He grabbed Cail's foot and yanked her down. She smacked her cheek hard on the ground, causing the skin to break open. "Well thats fucking rude-" She coughs on him which causes him to get sick with the bubonic plague and slowly die. She hops up and dusts her shirt off. "Did you see that Morr?! I missed making people sick!" She bounces and hugs Morrigan tight again.

Morrigan chuckles and tugs Cail. "You can tell me all about it later. But first we need to get Hœnir."

Balor slowly walks behind the two girls with his ax swung over his shoulder. "Huh.. I don't think my fingers are supposed to be facing that direction." He mutters and looks at his hand curiously.

Arawn practically drags Donn out of the main room and the two of them run everywhere to find Nir. They head down into the dungeons where they can hear small pained noises. Arawn quickly covers up his bloodied hand with a bandage and looks over at Donn.

Donn nods, silently communicating with each other. He summons the dead which causes his arms to go black all the way up to his shoulders. He tightly closes his eyes, trying to ignore the burning sensation. He acts quick and commands the dead to barge into the room.

*Hœnir's perspective*

He was handling blow after blow. Hit after hit. Stab after stab. He knelt there and quietly took all of it. Whatever the three people threw at him, they took it without a peep.

Hœnir's head shoots up when the doors slam open. They knew immediately who it was and the tears they were holding back started flowing down their cheeks.

The dead dragged the three kidnappers down to hell where Donn and Arawn would take care of them later.

Arawn rushed over to Nir and immediately untied him and picked him up. Nir was sobbing, weak and covered in blood and bruises. "I-i want to go home." They cry and cling onto Arawn.

Arawn quietly comforts them and holds them as carefully as possible. "We'll get you home."

AND FINISHED. Welp that was long. Please let me know if I need to add anymore warnings or anything like that. This was way longer than I expected. Hope you enjoyed :D be prepared for more angst in the future

Tags: @livealittleoc-cb @the-hellhounds @kardpackcb @beaconhillsxbot @domxbot @florintradat @beastfights-starting @romeochen @welcometosector1 @dawnswonderland-entertainment @mxthxbot @k-venturetime @cafesongmingi @reve-rv @multi-esme @3rachabot @elemental-dream @badbf-cb @mutant-academy @pasdrak @theonesxcb @clubwnderland @kenharu @dark-royals-cb @namiras-rose-tattoos @hoteldelluna-rp @model-boyscb @logan-oc-cb @moongods-cb @enhanced-cb @thedevoted-cb @tsunfullsunbot @san-cb @domrachaa @silcntxnight @timmburrton @league-of-assassins @androidmuses

[noodyl-blasstal]

Blupjeans Week Day 1

It's @blupjeansweek! Blupjeans week last year was the thing that encouraged me to start writing fics, so it's been fun to play with it again! Like last year, it's loosely connected (so far anyway!). So, now I'll stop blethering and here's some words. Day 1 - refuge

16 hours to go.

16 hours until he tanked his viva, fucked up everything he’d been working for, and his supervisor says he hadn’t ever believed Barry was capable, he just wanted his fees... Well, John would definitely say that if Barry could get hold of him but it had become abundently clear over the course of his postgrad research that John wasn’t the easiest guy to reach. Which might not be a problem if it wasn't his literal job to support Barry through his PhD.

At this point Barry hadn’t heard from him in two weeks despite a variety of progressively more panicked emails. The last conversation they had was John's particularly un-comforting statement that Barry should “...expect majors" because "it’s not the worst thesis I’ve ever read, but it certainly isn’t the best.” Barry's secondary supervisor hadn’t even bothered to show up for that meeting, so it was anyone’s guess what his take was. Barry assumed it wasn’t great.

He grabbed the pot from the coffee machine he’d abducted from the kitchen a few days ago and perched on his desk instead. He debated swigging straight from it, that seemed more efficient than using a mug, plus, his hand seemed to be shaking a bit and he didn't want to risk trying to pour it into a mug then into himself - he needed every drop to keep him awake long enough to work out how to fix this disaster.

“Knock knock! This is your 16 hour anxiety check in.” Barry’s door creaked open, but Lup didn’t appear. “Barrrrooollllld?” She sing songed, then added hopefully “...have you finally decided to sleep?” 

“Come in Lup.”

“Damn, you’re still up.” Oh, of course she was disappointed. She was probably sick of having to baby him through his anxiety. “...Not that I don’t want to see you, I was just hoping you were getting some rest.”

Barry held up the coffee pot in a cheers motion then took a swig from it. He was fine, this was fine, but if Lup left in disgust he could get back to scribbling increasingly unhinged and hard to read annotations on his sticky notes and trying to work out how to pull this disaster over the finish line. 

"Doing totally fine, huh?” Lup eyed him disapprovingly. “Barry, you have to take a break. You're going to crash in the middle of it if you keep this up. You've got what, like 15 and a bit hours?" She waited for him to nod in affirmation. "Cool, then you've got time to sleep."

He didn't have time to sleep, he had to try and plug the holes in the sinking ship that represented four years of his life. Suddenly Lup was in front of him, he hadn't noticed her moving, but she had appeared and was gently prying the sticky note monstrosity he hadn’t realised he’d picked up out of his hand. "No, I need to…"

"Sleep." Lup said. "You need to rest. There isn't a single thing in here you don't know. It's fucking brilliant, no, don't argue with me, I've read it." Barry snapped his mouth closed, he wanted to protest, but he wasn't entirely sure he could remember what he was arguing with, there was no fight left in him. "Now give me the coffee pot, Barold." He gripped it more firmly. No, not even for Lup. He couldn't relinquish this, it was the only thing keeping him awake. Lup raised and eyebrow. “Barold, don’t make me full name you. I'll do it! Hand over the pot.” Lup held her hand out expectantly.

"I'll fall asleep."

"That's the idea my guy. C'mon, gimme the sweet sweet bean juice. You don't need that where you're going."

"Where I'm…? Where am I? I'm here." Barry looked down to check.

Lup used his moment of confusion to swipe the coffee pot. Usually it wouldn’t have worked… probably, okay, it would have, but slower and he would have protested more. Right now his hands felt too heavy to even think about taking evasive action. "Yoink!" Lup said triumphantly, holding it aloft. Then he blinked and she didn't have the coffee pot any more. Maybe she magicked it somewhere? Barry turned his head to try and find it, and then she was tugging at his hand. "Not here, Bear, somewhere comfy."

"The chair's comfy, it's ergonomic." He paid a lot of money because the guy in the shop was really confident about that.

Lup snorted and tugged harder. "Barold Jorts Bluejeans, you're coming with me." 

"My name isn't…"

"...Ssssh." Lup might have been laughing. Barry wasn’t entirely sure, maybe it was him actually? Should stand? Oh, actually, he was up and moving and Lup still had hold of his hand and maybe she didn't have to let it go and she could just keep holding his hand and he could hold hers and maybe she’d have a nap with him. They stopped.

"This is your room." Barry wasn't entirely sure how they'd got there, time was doing strange things. 

"Yup, cha'girl decided you couldn't be left unattended in yours, it's too full of anxiety, even if I get you to sleep you'll marinade in it. So, we're here." Lup pushed the door wide.

Her bed had developed some kind of blanket canopy, there were string lights strewn around, and he could hear the soft patter of rain even though there wasn't a cloud in the sky. "It's… this is… magic. You made it all magic."

"Uh huh, now get in." Lup lifted a corner of blanket, it revealed a whole mess of pillows and blankets waiting inside. The bed looked so cosy, so inviting, so much better than his boring bed. He shouldn't, he really shouldn’t, he should study more, he couldn't afford to get off track. "That’s it, Bear." Oh. He was in the process of crawling in, and he was comfy. He flopped bodily into the bed and everything smelled of Lup’s orange body wash. Maybe he could just live here.

"I should do more prep." He mumbled, and sank into the pillow nest, rubbing his face on a soft fleece blanket. 

"Uh huh." Said Lup. 

"There's… I need to… you see, I have..."

"I'll wake you up in a few hours, sleep tight, Bear."

“Sleep tight Lup.” Barry mumbled from the depths of his blanket cocoon.

Part 2 here.

[raemoriendi]

the facts are these

(writeblr intro)

Rarae, or Rae:

30s, neuroweird, bi non-binary/genderqueer (they/them)

horror academic and writer

usamerican, southern goth

research interests include monstrosity, neurodiversity, and queerness (especially in terms of the vampire); gothic literature, especially the southern gothic and the new south; the history of genre literature and textuality in the united states; found footage; digital/online horror, and funerary/death studies.

my writing projects are usually long-form fiction, though short stories and autobiography-ish pieces (as posted here) are also of interest. I write primarily queer horror, romance, and erotica for people like myself, who aren't accustomed to having ourselves fully represented in fiction as the monster (affectionate), the beloved, or the Final Them.

I'm currently in my last semester (KNOCK ON WOOD!!!) of writing my dissertation, and working in an academic-adjacent position that I love while focusing more intensely on my original fiction.

favorite authors: angela carter, shirley jackson, toni morrison, rebecca wells, paul tremblay, silvia moreno-garcia, gabino iglesias, skip hollandworth.

when I'm not writing about horror either academically or in fiction, I tend to watch a lot of horror movies, seek out haunts at various times of the year, and read a lot of death- and illness-related non-fiction. I like other things -- this is just the Overarching Hyperfixation, if you will.

my one weakness is plushies. it's a problem.

works in progress:

morvant mortuary (two edits for this one bc I couldn't decide)

queer horror/erotica, 18+. also tagged on other socials as #mortuarywip or #queerslasherromancewip. a saga about family curses, love, death, and necromancy set in contemporary small town Louisiana, you can learn more about my southern slashers at @morvantmortuary.

wolves at the door

previously tagged elsewhere as #spyscholarromancewip, queer horror, 18+. a non-binary protagonist navigates their world being restructured around a deadly outbreak of a highly transmissible virus as they research the history of country at its epicenter, before they’re bribed by a should-be-dead spy into getting revenge on the suits in charge who didn’t protect its citizens from the disease when they could have.

…and my longest ongoing fanfiction, which I have posted to my AO3 and another blog.

I’d prefer to only interact with other adults, given the subject matter of my work. if any of this sounds up your alley, I’m always down to meet other writers.

I'm on insta and bluesky under this same handle, but I'm hardly ever there. feel free to say hi there also, if you wish.

[dp-marvel94]

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Let’s spread the self-love 🌼

(No pressure if you don't want to though!)

Hope you have a good day! ✨

This is too sweet! 🥺🥰🤗

In no particular order:

Face to Face should be a surprise to no one. I've been writing it for three and a half years. It's almost 280K long. I'm so proud of myself for sticking with it this long. A lot has changed in my life since I started this. Writing the story actually was very important to understanding and accepting myself as an autistic person. I'm in a much better place emotionally now. And I literally just have the epilogue left to write. 😭 I'm going to finish it after Invisobang, I swear!

Speaking of Invisobang!

This is the 76K monstrosity I wrote in three months for the first Invisobang. There was a lot of tears in writing it. I'm pretty sure I gave myself headaches just about every day with the stress I was putting myself under. Honestly, I never want to do that again. 😅😓💀 But there were a lot of emotions in there I think I needed to get out of me. It helped me deal with some things; there were a lot of emotions I needed to get out of me so I'm happy I wrote in, even if it hurt.

So apparently, I'm going to be a debby-downer for all these. :( This was the first multi-chapter fic I ever wrote, my first real dip into writing fanfiction (after a one shot I wrote near by birthday in 2018 to cheer myself up). I wrote it in the month or so after graduating from graduate school. I wrote with a fever and excitement I hadn't felt in a long time and my sister beta-read it with me, just as excited as I was.

*Religious discussion to follow*

Honestly this story saved my life. For the past year or so, especially the last semester of grad school, I was in the deepest depression and anxiety I've ever experienced. I kept running into road blocks in my research. Nothing was going the way I wanted. I never got to see my family; with my sister being my best friend (and still is) that was a big deal. I did many things I am deeply ashamed of and I felt so alone. And I was so angry at God for letting me get that deep. I felt like he'd abandoned me. I was convinced if He didn't even care about me at all. Which was absolutly earth-shattering for me; I'd never had my faith shaken like that. In all honestly, I came really close to leaving the church. I'd already checked out mentally. I stopped listening to Christian Music (yes even Disciple) because I couldn't enjoy it anymore; all those promises in the songs felt like getting stabbed when I knew that God had forgot about me.

The point, the depression and guilt and running from God (because I was running from Him; He never abandoned me) turned into a vicious cycle, driving my deeper and deeper, farther and farther away. Things only started getting better once I graduated. And something finally pushed me to start writing. And writing Double Discovery was the first step in climbing out of that depression and coming back to church. Or rather.... it was what Jesus used, completely oblivious to me, to start to pull me out of the pit and bring me back to Him. Looking back now, I have no doubt. God lead me to the DP community. He gave me the special interest I have, the passion, my talent for writing, the ideas. I remember praying (ie begging), before things got really bad and I can't even stomach the thought of talking to God, for Him to help me. It didn't come when I want it to or how I would have imagined or even wanted. But He did help me. He never abandoned me.

*End Religious Discussion*

Okay, these last two will just be fun, I swear!

I wrote this for my first Phic Phight. It's the first story of mine someone made fanart for. Check out this piece by @paenling

Another Phic Phight offering, this one from 2021. I had to include one of my numerous clone sibling stories. XD

[morethanthedarkness]

Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act? Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light? [ @apalestar -> Rhysedryn ]

To start, this is such a long post and I'm sorry, but I started thinking about it and then it turned into this monstrosity, which is basically a… CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE! with @morethanthedarkness

Strictly as a companion character, Rhys can be found in Act I.

He heard rumors of increased drow activity in the area and he really couldn't quite help himself. He went there to see if he could learn anything of interest to him in a rather important matter—regardless of how much he might try to convince himself otherwise—that he cannot entirely write-off.

Entirely verse dependent on whether or not Szaryn survives the attack on Waukeen's Rest [ obviously, in game-canon, he does not, but I live and thrive on AUs ], if Szaryn survives, I have little doubt that, in part, it is due to Rhys' intervention. Perhaps he saw him and grabbed him before it all unfolded—even the years apart can't hide that he's almost the very image of their father—or perhaps he stepped in to prevent his death and talked down the Hand, much as the PC must do if they come upon the scene later if they're a drow. Explains that this one is his younger brother, stolen away, not here willingly, et cetera.

Thus, there are two acts in which you can meet and/or recruit Rhys [ as well as his sibling(s) ].

[ CONTINUES BELOW THE CUT. ]

ACT I

If Szaryn survives, the party can find both Rhys and Szaryn at Waukeen's Rest.

If the party has Asha with them [ which will require that the party has explored the Underdark and found the Myconid Colony prior to Waukeen's Rest and sorted the issue for the Myconids, settled by whatever means they chose ], Szaryn may recognize her by sight. Rhys would have to hear her name. They will both be overjoyed to see their sister again—quite a shock for Asha as she didn't even remember their eldest brother because she was so young when she and Szaryn were taken—and will happily join the party as the three siblings will be reunited.

If the party has seen but not recruited Asha prior to Waukeen's Rest [ which would require that the player has explored the Underdark and found the Myconid Colony, but has not yet sorted the Duergar and Nere, by whatever means they will choose ] and will answer as much if asked, they will ask to join the party with the promise of being taken to where the party last saw their sister. [ Another side quest for the party. ]

If Asha is not with the party and has not been met, you can still meet the two of them at Waukeen's Rest and, if approached, they will explain their circumstances, as well as ask if the party has seen another drow, a female. As small of a chance as it may be, Szaryn had heard rumors she escaped and having found Rhys… Well. Because the answer is no, they will wish your party well and set off to follow other potential leads. They have one miracle, having found each other. Why not try for another? They can be re-encountered in Act III.

If Szaryn did not survive, the party will find Rhys alone, knelt beside his younger brother's corpse, quietly grieving.

If the party has Asha with them [ as per the requirements above ], Asha will recognize Szaryn and grieve, but also realize she has found and been reunited, even in so terrible a situation, with their eldest brother she didn't remember due to how young she was when taken. Either the group can agree to allow the two to see Szaryn properly tended and the death/burial rites carried out. Or they can insist they must keep going. If the former, the two will join the party immediately after a long rest. If the latter, Asha will leave the party to remain with Rhys and see to Szaryn, but the two can be re-encountered later in Act III.

If the party does not have Asha with them but has seen her [ as per the requirements above ] and they approach Rhys grieving next to his brother's body, Rhys will explain that this was his younger brother, stolen away with their younger sister in a raid, and Rhys will ask, with so much increased drow activity in the area, if the party has heard of any female drow. If they answer in the affirmative, he will ask to join the party on the promise that they will take him to where they saw his sister last. If the party will wait for him to properly see to his brother's death/burial rites, he will join. If they will not wait, he will ask for where they saw his sister and journey there himself. He and Asha can be re-encountered at the Myconid Colony, if the party accepted the quest to help the Circle prior to leaving it the first time. OR, if they did not accept prior to leaving the Colony, but do so upon returning, they will find Asha and Rhys at the ruined village on the shore, the Duergar there already slain. Either way, they will join the party, if asked, to deal with the Duergar across the lake as Asha has sworn on her Oath that she will make certain the Myconid are safe from any further attacks.

If the party has not met Asha, Rhys will wish the party well, say that he must see to his deceased brother's death/burial rites, and that he will continue his search afterwards. In this scenario, he can be re-encountered in Act III.

Act III

If Szaryn survived Waukeen's Rest…

… but the party had not yet met Asha when they reached Waukeen's Rest, Rhys and Szaryn can be re-encountered at Wyrm's Crossing, in the refugee camp, still trying to find their sister. If Asha has been recruited since first meeting them, they will happily join as well, the siblings reunited at last. If Asha has not been recruited, they will acknowledge having met before but will be unrecruitable, stating they are still searching for their sister.

If Szaryn did not survive Waukeen's Rest…

… and Asha joined the party prior to Waukeen's Rest but the party did not agree to wait for Rhys and Asha to see to the death rites and burial of their brother, which caused Asha to leave the party, both can be re-encountered at Wyrm's Rest, in the refugee camp, helping the refugees. They will not be recruitable to the party as their first concern is the refugees, but they are willing to be considered Allies in the Final Fight [ upon passing a persuasion check explaining the truth of the current situation that they have learned since Waukeen's Rest ], as Asha will insist upon it.

… and Asha had not been met or recruited prior to Waukeen's Rest, Rhys can be re-encountered at Wyrm's Crossing in the refugee camp, still looking for his sister. If the party has encountered and recruited Asha after Waukeen's Rest, he will happily join the party, at least two of the siblings reunited. If the party has NOT encountered and recruited Asha, he will acknowledge having met prior but he will not be recruitable, stating that he is still searching for his sister.

As for secrets…

I think I also answered this a bit within explaining how you can find and recruit him - where you inevitably learn of his brother and sister. Any secret beyond that would pertain to the guilt he has carried after he was unable to protect his siblings.

The prerequisites would be simply by earning his approval and getting close to him, as friend or lover.

After earning enough approval, it would likely be a little '!' scene in camp when the player has ended the day. There would be a cutscene of him standing near the edge of camp, watching his sibling(s) going about tasks to set up camp for the night, looking Sad, as the player character approaches. If the player character asks, he may be reluctant to explain… though if they succeed in a persuasion roll to reassure him, he will tell about the attack, about how he failed to protect them, lost literally 200+ years with them and knows they spent at least some of that time kept by the Lolth-sworn, especially Szaryn [ or he will cite the further 'failure' that Szaryn died still in the Lolth-sworn's grasp ] . He will admit to the guilt he carries from that, and how he threw himself into his studies to become a more powerful wizard because he never again wished to feel so helpless, never again wanted to be unable to prevent such loss and suffering. If the player is sympathetic, they'll earn more approval, as well as his promise that he intends to put his studies to further good use. He's been reunited with his sibling(s) because of the player… He will do everything he can to see that debt repaid. He will then smile and tell the player that they should both perhaps join in with the tasks, as he should start to make up for lost time by helping his siblings. If the player condemns him for his failure or mocks him for his guilt, they will gain no approval, but he will accept it without argument and remain alone where he is near the edge of camp, sadly observing his sibling(s).

[mommasunshines]

Let me tell you all about my grandma.

My grandma was the kindest woman I ever got to meet, and if I had to compare any woman to Hestia, it would have to be her I think. My grandma had hair as red as a fox and loved squirrels and baby seals, she loved music and dancing and cooking and knitting and crocheting and she was the best.

My grandma was warmth, she was the idea of safety and home. When I visited her house she always had some chocolate or kinder surprise eggs or chips in that old cabinet on the very right, and she had this huge wooden monstrosity of a cupboard that's now in my room, filled with beautiful glasses and pictures. When I wanted something to drink, we'd heat up milk and dissolve some sugar in it, cause I like it, and when we made potatoes she peeled them and I got to throw them in the pot of cold water so we could wash off the starch.

She liked to joke all the time that I got my love for dancing and music from her, because she used to hold me in her arms, singing and dancing in front of the mirror when I was still very small. She wasn't wrong I think. I think that's where I got it from.

My grandma loved when I played the piano, because she thought it was so wonderful to hear, even when I was a child and could barely play, she wanted to hear it every time she came to our place.

To call her a spitfire would be less than she was. She still biked to our place as long as she could, not caring that it was over three kilometres and a bridge away. She also refused to wear a helmet over her beautiful curls for as long as she rode her bicycle. She had a tongue sharper than the knifes in her kitchen drawer or the retractable measuring tape that she owned, on which I cut my finger. I reopened the cut on a toilet paper roll the next day, and I was a little scared of metal measuring tapes since that day.

And even when she had to go to the nursing home, she always brought crackers for me when we got her for a visit. Cause she knew I love savoury foods more than sweet. And when we got together, we liked to make jokes about many things. Many many things.

And when she died this morning... I could only smile for a few minutes, because that couldn't be true. And when my dad called mom to tell her at work, it finally sank in. And I relearned to cry like a waterfall. And I got the scarf she made me, in my favourite colours, and hugged it, knowing it was one of many things she gave me during the almost 18 years I got to know this wonderful woman.

I'll be 18 in two weeks, and I will celebrate without her. But I will dance, knowing it was her that made me love it so much. I will play "Underdog" at piano lessons tomorrow, knowing it was the last thing she heard me play on the piano when I played for her last. I will try to wear the scarf she made me, or one she gave me at least. I will sit at her old desk, using her old typewriter to write the things I wanna say at her funeral. I will ask my mom for her apple pancake recipe later today. I kind of wanna eat them again now.

It hink I'll get a cup of milk with sugar now. Maybe I will look at her old pictures too.

I wonder if the next time I see a squirrel, it will be one she sent my way.

And even if I am pagan now, the next time I lose something, I will grab the old bell we'll get from her room in the next days and ring it, asking for help from Saint Antonius, the patron saint of the "schussiligen".

If only he could bring her back to me, I lost her too, didn't I?

[pinpieper]

mum said it's my turn on the eldritch type-writer

The hulking monstrosity had no name, 'The Angler' was what the locals called the hulking, marsh dwelling thing. It moved slowly, burdened by the endless weight of rusted metal and rotten cloth that hung over its old, fly blown, molten flesh. The old, dried skin it molted out of like some kind of horrible, molten cicada, still hung in the rotting diving suit, the only part of it still solid, the face still floating in the old, rotten, murky helmet. Its form had practically melted into this damn thing, so it couldn't exactly trash this old suit. God knows if it could, it would have a LONG, LONG time ago, the long, heavy limbs practically dragged this thing even deeper into the wetness, "Maybe one of these days all this weight will finally bury and drown me, wouldn't be all too bad." it thought. It thought thoughts slower now, like dragging your finger through thick, sticky dough, likely a result of its body melting to the inside of this ancient, rusting, decaying diving suit it dredged out of a lake. How it would have even ended up there, nobody knew, not even the thing fused to the inside of it like molten wax. Moving was quite the endeavor now, it had to force the black sludge that was its body, more like a mass of molasses at this point, with all its energy to push against the metal legs, desperately endeavoring for minutes on end, to move only about 5 feet. It didn't have even a fragment of an idea how its creator intended it to hunt HUMANS, the fast, persistence predators, while it had the top speed of tortoise with its legs snapped. However, despite all the rest of its miserable existence, it did have one saving grace, its Lure, it wasn't called The Angler for nothing after all, it was a simple mechanism, and the only limb it had intact, and the only reason it could hunt humans. A "cognition-hazard" was what the humans called it. It felt that was a quite diminishing name for what it did. That light, looked to humans, like the light of God, like all their good memories flashing through their head at once, like pure, untainted warmth, their limbs practically turned to Jello as they shambled forwards, drawn forward by the sheer, smothering feeling of comfort like a moth to a flame, right into its maw.

Its routine was mindless, it shambled around the old swamp it called home, if it found a human, it would let the lure out of the old suit, like a fisherman dropping his line into the water, all it would need to do, was wait for them to take the bait, and good bait this was, very few could resist it for even an hour, even fewer actually escaped... 

.

..After its meal, it would rest, shambling over near the south-east edge of the god-forsaken, decaying, putrid marsh for nearly four whole hours. That term "god-forsaken" was starting to feel literal. It would eventually find the old, abandoned, fishing shack it called "home", the shack once belonged to an angler, the humans might have, at first thought it was the ghost or ghoul of that human, maybe that's another reason why they called it that, how was it to know? Its only interactions with them were listening in on conversations through their sewage systems as fast travel, them being hypnotized by its lure, or them running away from it screaming, not that it mattered, the company of a human would only last about just over 70 years, it will not have aged a day in 70 decades, or ever for that matter, the others of its kind occasionally showed up for an hour or two, typically to mock it, or play card games, their tricks, and physical state were very, very different from its, out of practiced boredom, it picked up a pen and started writing:

January?

August?

September?

I don't know what date it is anymore,

It's getting humid, I think I might just melt out of this thing from the humidity and dissolve into the marsh, I would not be opposed to such a fate. Our creator said our forms would solidify after "enough time" and "enough biomass" as if that's not COMPLETELY ARBITUARY, I'm starting to think it might just be NEVER, this mindless, irritating routine is starting to grate my nerves. Even The Smiling Screen hasn't solidified yet, it's been around as long as television has, the smiling freak...it's getting lonely here.

It stopped writing, closed up the old, stolen, diary and decided to sleep in place, a small part of it hoped it wouldn't wake up again. 

[brokenrobot2004]

It makes me a little sad that I'm going to be convicted forever by the hate blog my ex best friend made about me years ago now; to her, the drama ended with that blog, but to me, it's going to stay forever as long as it's around, because it's one of the first things anyone is going to see when they look me up; I'd be more accepting of it if it wasn't also loosely comprised of buzzwords (Biphobic and ablest are specifically strange to me because I'm bi and diagnosed with autism, and even back when I was aroace I never said anything about bisexuals? I never said anything about any kind of disability either, I was always very respectful about both of those things and have even considered myself bi before now too, when I was 11) and mildly sexualized assumptions that an adult made of posts I made when I was either 10 or 11 years old in the furby community, just trying to fit in with what other people were saying but not entirely having a grip on what they meant and sounding off, when I never meant to sound the way I did at all; like how "Fetishizing trans women" was a post where I angrily mocked my mom calling me cute or girly things because I was a trans guy and found it upsetting, "disabled furby fetish" was me trying to make a positivity post about helping disabled furbies to be inclusive like everyone else was being, one of the things happened to be me saying I'd help a furby who couldn't walk sit on the toilet because I heard around that people taking care of the elderly would do that, so I included it in my post to seem knowledgeable on real ways of helping, and that was it; I really really wish that even while I was an unhinged young teenager, people would have just gently asked before writing those ever-lasting posts, "Hey, did you mean bla-bla-bla when you said this, or did you mean something else?" and I would've answered honestly, I'm sure; I was a bit of a monstrosity the further back you go into history of how I acted on the internet but I was really, not all that terrible to talk to when there was no perceived threat from the person and asking me a rational question would've been easy, I never ever mean to hurt anybody, but now, that's all people are going to think of me; even in real life, because who wouldn't look up my social media in this digital era? 🙁

And it was mostly, if not entirely, consisting of behaviors and views I've grown out of since the 5+ years ago it happened; I have even been met with backlash in 2022 or 2023, for saying I'm sorry to someone I was mean to back then 😯 (I now think that was unnecessary from me, I was very tired that day) what do the people who've cancelled me want from me? I don't think they want me to apologize, or care that I've gotten so much better since then; I think maybe they just want to revel in that I am a complete recluse now socially, a coward; I cannot even say "Cool fursuit!" or "I like your artstyle!" without feeling like somehow, someone will come forward and be able to twist what I've said into something terrible and use it against me if they don't like me, because that's just how people can be online now; it's terrifying. My ex best friend has shunned me behind my back for being so scared, I remember being shown longer ago; but knowing the things that upset her, she would be absolutely broken if someone did to her, what she did to me online; because that shit can ruin careers, it could ruin my chance of ever making a friend again, even IRL because anyone can look me up online; imagine doing that to somebody who was at the time, not even old enough to drink.

I've been called vile, irredeemable, and anonymously told to kill myself once even; I was a 16 year old; a rather air-headed one too yet. Who would talk that way to a 16 year old who made it clear he was trying to improve and never meant to hurt anyone? Who knew he was in the wrong and was trying his hardest to fix it? For young readers rolling their eyes, how absurd that is will click when you're older and realize how inexperienced most people are at that age.

And that isn't keeping in mind how developmentally delayed I always have been too, which I state as a fact and not as an excuse; I don't let it ever stop me from improving myself either, but I feel like it's probably important that I mention that about myself here; I've always been considerably far behind people my age socially and often, intellectually; it was very visible at School especially where alot of the work I did was far behind everyone else's, and was alot slower than them too, and when I was younger I'd hardly get any work done at all even and was very difficult to deal with as a whole; Autism can be a very unflattering disability, it's not generally pure or wholesome, and it has influenced my bad or otherwise embarrassing behavior alot in the past; which I will still take responsibility for; because my illness isn't some seperate entity from me I'd use as an excuse, I just want it to be understood and recognized that I can't function as well as most other people in the head, I never could, and I genuinely just want that to be understood coming from someone who is seriously, detrimentally autistic to a point I had gotten diagnosed with it at a young age; my past outbursts and socially-inept behaviors helped by it gave the internet ridiculous shitshows to point at, and I'll never be able to take that away; what I can do is hope that I'll be atleast somewhat understood in the end, and left alone for how I was such a long time ago now

I've made a good effort to no longer be that way or act immature and freak out like I did long ago, and I can't stop persuing a social presence at such a young age, over the idea that strangers might not understand that about me.

I have no respect for people who think call-out and purity culture are okay and useful towards youth; this stuff was meant for use against megacorperations and rich celebrities that are getting boycotted for being generally harmful and/or gross on a huge scale that affects many innocent people, not stupid teenagers like I was, or even young adults. People learn, grow, and change; I spend and have spent every second of my life finding ways to grow and improve, and taking information in from people I look up to and admire to do so; and came far enough that I am 100% no longer the petty, angry, and immature person I was at the time, and that makes me very proud. I am no longer going to cower in my little corner, shivering at the thought of complimenting someone's 3D model or uploading a piece of music on YouTube; because people who told a scared and confused autistic kid to end his life and tried to take future careers, friendships, or even love away from him with things he's said and done years and years ago, do not deserve my compliance anymore