#Modern Red Scare Blues

[jinxificada]

leave it to her.

troublemaker!jinx x people pleaser!reader

summary: for once, you were taken care of.

notes: nsfw, modern au, wc 2,7k. no proofread. Heh, this is for my bottoms out there !! might change the title lmao..

ཻུ۪۪ ༄࿐༉⁎ ⁺

never, in a million years, you would’ve thought that you’d see jinx crying. definitely not in such a… helpless way.

you were on your way to have lunch at the greenery of the campus, if you were lucky you’d find a nice spot under a tree, but the soft grass under the sun would suffice too. you had a red, juicy apple in hand, a novel in the other and your pretty purse on your shoulder. you were planning to do the best you could with that free period.

that is, until you casually find the blue haired girl crying under the bleachers.

it was out of character, way too far.

you’ve known jinx since… forever. though you doubted she ever noticed you, she definitely caught your eye from a very young age.

you didn’t know much about her home life, apart from rumors and gossip full of inconsistencies, her life history was a mystery. but you just knew something happened around the age of thirteen, because that’s when her personality had a huge change.

from the cheerful, creative, social butterfly powder to the obnoxious, short tempered, problematic jinx. it wasn’t from a day to the other, of course not, but you vividly remember when she mutated skins.

it started by her getting weirdly quiet. it was just strange for you not to hear her loud giggles and excited volunteers to participate in class. sometimes, she would even skip them. then you noticed that she pulled away from everyone. her former friends were mindlessly brushed off as she preferred to sit quietly alone.

she started getting in troubles. kids would accuse her from stealing stuff, such as pencils or lunch money. it got messy real quick, after all, they couldn’t ignore it when it was at least six to seven kids assuring it was her who committed the crimes. parents got involved, but apparently her father handled it very well because soon enough nobody cared anymore.

growing up jinx developed a punk, dark style that got you obsessed for awhile. and she played the part, discussing with the teachers and challenging the authorities, she really seemed to hate the system. and her classmates.

now, maybe, just maybe, you had a crush on her. and you could’ve do something about it, if it wasn’t because she scared the shit out of you.

jinx was a walking trouble. wherever she went, whenever it was, with whoever she wanted. her patience was extremely low and it was obvious she found joy in making others miserable. younger kids were more likely to be her victims, but some classmates were unlucky enough to get involved too.

she never messed with you. and your most logical explanation was that she simply didn’t care about your existence. and why would she? you two were… polar opposites.

while jinx was pure chaos, you were an angel.

everyone’s favorite, specially teachers. not that you were exactly a nerd, but that didn’t matter. so what if you weren’t academically smart? you were adorable, enthusiastic and kind. even the most strict and harsh teacher would feel happy to see your hand raising in their class and answer to your dumb questions. in fact, they’ll use you as an example to encourage others to satisfy their curiosity by learning.

socially, you were a bit awkward, but you always meant well! there isn’t a club you haven’t been a member of, or a student council activity you haven’t volunteered for. you gave free tutoring, shared your lunch to those who didn’t bring enough money, helped carry books or homework models from one side of the school to the other.

in conclusion, you were a sweetheart.

this comes from an early age. when your parents proudly bragged to their friends about how ‘quiet’ and such a ‘well behaved’ kid you were. sure you’ve got yourself in a few little incidents. like stealing a chocolate from the store when you accompanied your mom do groceries. bringing stray animals to your house because you were worried they’d have to sleep alone and making your parents deal with them. or getting caught red handed magnetically reading your father’s porn magazine.

silly little accidents.

you were simply the kindest soul alive. of course you wouldn’t ignore someone crying alone.

your shy steps alerted jinx quickly, her head snapped up and her bloodshot eyes stared at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“what do you want?” she aggressively asked you, there was a vulnerability in her tone that squeezed your heart.

“um, i have tissues.”

your hands trembled as you rummaged through your bag, rushing to kneel in front of her and hand them over. you needed to comfort her, but you also wanted this to end as soon as possible.

her already pouty lips formed a frown, hesitating for a long minute before snatching it from your hand to blow her nose. not another word came out from her, not even thank you.

it was awkward, to stare at her while she cleaned up her wet face. your eyes traveled down to the floor, clearing your throat. “it’s a nice day.”

jinx only scoffed. glancing at you for a brief second before focusing on the tissues. then, she threw it away and placed her chin on her forearms as she hugged her knees, going back to that gloomy energy.

you were unsure, because she didn’t quite asked you to leave, but it seemed that her mind was elsewhere. what do you say now? you didn’t want to pry, in fact, you didn’t even want to know what was tormenting her.

then why did you stay?

you moved slowly, as if any sudden movement would make her notice your presence, you sat next to her, maintaining a respectful distance.

well, grass is grass. though neither the sun nor the wind hit your face like you’d want, it was a quiet, calming spot. so you opened your book and read.

it wasn’t like jinx didn’t notice you, or cared. there was something about your mere presence, it brought her a sense of peace. she kept crying, but she didn’t sob anymore. jinx kinda wanted to scoop closer, to make you round your arms around her and rest her head on your chest. that’s how welcoming your vibe was.

she didn’t, obviously. you both just sat there in silence, the noise of your pages turning and her quiet sniffing, along with the distant laughter from the students, were the only sounds heard.

you could tell jinx’s mind was complex, that was clear like water. it was inviting, the complexity of her person. to be the one to figure her out would be a big accomplishment, but ending up harmless was not reassured. if only you could ask her why was she crying.

she wouldn’t tell you, anyway. how could she explain the pain of her memories, the grief and difficulty in her relationship with her sister?

nightmares were easier to manage. one can wake up sweaty in the security of their home and they’ll be alone, with no eyes to judge your trauma. but the nightmares transformed into sudden flashbacks in the middle of a class, the heartbeat quickens at a scary pace and the breathing gets heavier. and jinx thought, only for a second, that she might die right there.

you didn’t ask her, and she appreciated it. because your presence comforted her in a way no one, and nothing, could ever do.

jinx left first. she had spent the majority of the hour looking at the floor, occasionally grunting, muttering stuff you couldn’t comprehend. but she stared at you for quite some time. she found herself relaxing at the sight of your fingers following the words you were reading, paying attention to the smallest details in your actions. like the little puffs of air and the way your chest rises, jinx’s own breathing started to match yours at some point.

it sent shivers down her spine when she realized. neither of you says a word when jinx suddenly gets up, shook the dirt on her jeans and walked away.

you thought it was over, how silly.

next day you were welcomed by stares and giggles, firstly you just thought everyone was being super friendly. until you got to your locker.

the word ‘dyke’ shined in a fluorescent pink, other small drawings filled the free space. it wasn’t strange for students to decorate them, but this clearly wasn’t your doing, and it was extremely striking compared to your quiet personality. that was jinx’s handwriting.

you chuckled to yourself in disbelief, naively tried to brush a hand to clean it with no success and you hear more laughing. you glance away from your locker, just then you notice people made a round to watch you, some even took evidence with pictures. your cheeks reddened intensely, and you tried laughing with them, to pay no mind to the aggression of it all and laugh it off.

you were boiling anger.

escaping the spotlight wasn’t easy, but you make it to the furthest bathroom. you felt like screaming, your breathing was heavy and little tears tickled the corner of your eyes.

what did you do to deserve it? is that how the universe pays you for being nothing but kind to people? you knew half of the students that were laughing at you. you helped them pass their exams, paid for their lunch, listened to their problems when no one else would. and then they laughed at you.

and what was so funny? how did they even know you were into women? were you that obvious?

while you were processing that and much more in you mind, someone else entered the bathroom. your head snapped towards them, scoffing loudly when you realize.

“dyke?” your voice rumbling in the empty room made jinx giggle, she closed the door and swiftly locked it. there was a very different air coming from her, she looked joyful, lively and mean.

her little mocking smile pretended to look innocent as she battled her lashes at you.

“dyke.” she shrugged, approaching you slowly. you felt cornered, like a prey.

“w—why?”

“w—why not?”

you huffed in frustration, stepping back to try and keep some distance, but she wasn’t having it. “did i offend you? yesterday?” you asked, unable to hold back the little tears.

jinx doesn’t answer, but her demeanor softens noticeably. she reached to brush her thumbs on you cheeks, she felt the warmth of your blush and her heart fluttered. she felt so giddy that it scared her, suddenly pulling back.

“what a dumb question.” she scoffed, messing with her hair as she turned to the mirror, fixing her appearance to her liking. you saw how she purposely smudged her eyeliner and you mentally agreed. it suited her. “when will you learn to mind your own business?” she added your name to the end of the question and it threw you off.

“huh?“ jinx looked at you with nonchalance, slightly amused at your confusion. “what do you mean?”

“you’re always behind other people, offering a helping hand and what not— it pisses me off.” her voice got progressively more annoyed. “you’re only losing time, did anyone help you back out there?”

“w—well, no, but—“

you couldn’t think of anything. she was right, she also approached you again, and her closeness affected you quickly, snatching the words from your mouth.

“b—b—but.”

you grunted, hiding your face in your hands as you leaned back on the wall. “stop it, stop.”

“i’m not doing anything!” she chuckled, comfortably placing herself next to you with her shoulder pressed to the cold surface to face you better. you couldn’t see her, but there was little hearts in her eyes as she gazed you.

“what’s wrong with lesbians, anyway…?” you used your last defense, muffling your words softly against your hands.

which you quickly pulled away when you felt cold fingers tickling the exposed skin of your waist. jinx held you with a delicacy that made your breathing twitch.

“nothing~” she purred, getting even closer as she hugged you from the side. “i love lesbians.” she chuckled again, but it didn’t sound like she was making fun of you now. you were bewildered, but you didn’t separate an inch. “i just couldn’t think of anything else to mock you, heh.”

you knew it was wrong for many reasons, but in the very moment you thought that it was cute. she was cute.

“i… i didn’t knew you…”

“hmm?” she hummed with a smile, placing her lips close to your ear to murmur as soft as she could. “that i was into you?”

she wasn’t making things up. you were simply oblivious. why else were you practically the only one unaffected by jinx’s antics? until today, that is.

if you’d have payed attention, you would’ve noticed the constant staring, the quiet steps behind you. you would’ve understood why some ungrateful students came back at you after a tutoring session to offer you money for your time and effort, you never accepted it, but there was jinx threatening kids for you.

jinx fixation only snapped when you finally offered your attention to her. to have you kneeling in front of her with worried eyes, unsure of how to actually help her and not leaving when she wouldn’t even spare you another glance after accepting the tissues. your kindness made her heart race and she wanted it all to herself.

the silence that filled the bathroom was comforting, though the tension could be cut with a knife. or a kiss, whichever happened first.

surprisingly, you made the first move. tilting your head close enough to brush your lips against hers. you felt her sigh into your mouth before reciprocating. the contact was firm, eager and gentle. could’ve been more romantic if you weren’t in the schools bathroom, but neither of you minded.

she didn’t lose time to press herself into you against the wall, her hands roamed your waist and shamelessly explored under your shirt. the kiss quickly heated up, just like your bodies.

your hands clutched her shoulders to keep her close, though you shy away for a second when her tongue licked your lower lip. “god…” you sighed, mesmerized by the feeling. jinx tried again and this time you welcomed her by opening your lips for her.

she treated you so good, her touch both gentle and hungry made your back arch into her. her tongue conquered your mouth with ease, exploring every inch until one of you pull away to breath.

it was intoxicating, thrilling. the voice in your mind warning you when her hand slipped under your pants got more and more distant. her slim fingers caressed you over your underwear and you reluctantly broke the kiss to whimper softly. it was unknown, exciting. your own hand gripped her forearm as you tried to quiet down.

jinx hummed in amusement, “feels good, hm?” she pecked your lips before moving to your neck. it was only a matter of minutes before you pleaded for more. though your words came out slurred and nonsensical, you had to guide her hand under your panties to make the point.

“y—yeah, yeah,” you kept mumbling, praising the softness of her touch. jinx’s own knees trembled when she heard you moan loudly, her middle finger smoothly entering your pussy. she had to kiss you again to shut you up, but she was fucking you so nice.

you greedily asked for more, muffling against her lips. you wouldn’t even be standing if you weren’t holding yourself from her shoulders. she added another one, setting a soft pace, her curling fingers hitting your sweet spot over and over.

you felt the pressure in your lower belly, “ah, jinx—“ you tried to warn her, but she already had an idea. your walls squeezed her fingers harder, and your hips kept twitching towards her, searching for relief.

“i got ya, baby.” she reassured you, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear as you came in her hands.

jinx was a riddle no one bothered to figure out, not even you. it was a pleasant surprise to be the first to feel how sweet she can actually be. you craved more of her.

it was a weird pairing, people noted. you both mindlessly walked hand in hand the next week, jinx’s uncaring attitude gave you the boost of confidence you needed after being laughed at so recently. [jinx apologized profusely for it.] but it worked perfectly, having each other’s back when something went wrong. there was a special, comforting connection between you two that couldn’t be compared.

[hoshigray]

Pleasurable Practice

Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...

A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!

Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.

Wc: 2.8k

"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"

"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."

"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.

It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.

Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"

The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"

"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."

"What language?"

"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"

Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.

".....Please stay and help me."

"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."

"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.

It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.

After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.

"What're you doing?"

However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.

"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."

"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"

"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."

The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"

You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."

Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."

Huh? "Excuse me?"

"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."

Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"

"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.

For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.

The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.

"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"

Huh? "What?"

"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."

His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.

Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.

"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."

"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."

He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."

"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!

You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"

Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.

"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."

It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"

He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.

He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."

Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.

Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??

"Túmbate."

He captures your attention. "What?"

"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."

Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"

"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."

You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."

"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."

His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."

His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.

"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."

He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."

Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.

His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.

Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.

He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."

You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!

With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.

"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.

"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"

He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."

"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"

"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.

"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."

He hums. "Lyla."

"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.

"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"...."

"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.

Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."

"Can you please give us the co—"

"Already gave it to Jess."

"Then what was the point—"

"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."

To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"

"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"

"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"

"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"

It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"

"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.

"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."

[maythearo]

" Welcome back to Night Raven College's 'Ghostly Gossip'! The school's unofficial main online source for the latest news, articles and trending topics circulating around campus! "

" attention attention! we interrupt this broadcast to inform all readers that the ghostly gossip team have at last caught the student responsible for all the (unauthorized) written remarks from previous entries! We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience! (although admittedly, he does not...) "

Navigation:

R. Rosehearts ▪︎ T. Clover ▪︎ C. Diamond ▪︎ A. Trappola ▪︎ D. Spade ▪︎ L. Kingscholar ▪︎ R. Bucchi ▪︎ J. Howl ▪︎ A. Ashengrotto ▪︎ J. Leech ▪︎ F. Leech ▪︎ K. Al Asim ▪︎ J. Viper ▪︎ V. Schoenheit ▪︎ R. Hunt ▪︎ E. Felmier ▪︎ I. Shroud ▪︎ O. Shroud ▪︎ M. Draconia ▪︎ L. Vanrouge ▪︎ S. Zigvolt ▪︎ Silver

Design notes:

This took way longer to post than I expected mainly because of imposter syndrome and constantly thinking I could do more for his entry but, I'll keep this as Ace's main style anyway. It's pretty simple compared to previous designs, but to be fair, devil Ace's personality and shenanigans would stand out enough to compensate for that matter LOL

As I said on Deuce's post, I wanted to connect their designs in some aspects, so yeah! Complementary color pallettes! That's why they both have few shades that stand out of their main monochrome colors, Deuce is blues and greens, while Ace stays around red and oranges!

Fashion-wise now, I initially pictured him pulling a lot more references from 80s men fashion, but ig by the end I accidentally strayed away from that and somehow incorporated a more "modern" influence to it? Man I'm very bad at describing the creative process and vibes of my designs but what else is new 😭😭 ANYWAYS, off topic but I should mention that, as you can see I'll throw in a high heel in any characters that give me the opportunity to do so, this one especially, I had Cleo's "dawn of the dance" heels in the back of my mind while designing, ( I forgot to include in the image above again 😔) which fun fact, was my first Monster High doll I got as a kid, so-!!! That's a shoe style that I'm very fond of KWDNWKSNSK

LORE DUMP TIME, ok so given each characters unique scare-itage, the way the cast interact with each other and build relationships could somehow differ from how they interact in og twisted wonderland! For example, since MH!Ace is THE devil from THE bible (/ref) he probably shares a common background, or have met Vil and Idia before they enrolled in MH!NRC together! That's such a funny thing to think about for me. Who would have thought they'd ever be a trio of great childhood friends?

[milkloafy]

THE DUTIES OF A BODYGUARD — JIYAN

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: jiyan never does an assignment half-assed. accepting a job as your bodyguard means being there to protect you at all times.  ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: bodyguard au, modern au, fem!reader, reader is a rich gorl, spoiled but like aware?, almost nudity, 17+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.2k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: inspired by creativepromptsforwriting’s bodyguard prompts :> red flag!reader kinda LMAO she’s very diff compared to how i normally write them but yk what don’t we all wanna pretend we’re a spoiled rich bitch with a hot bodyguard sometimes?this reader would 1000% drive jiyan crazy but like in the best way yk vibes u.u 

There were few individuals who truly needed bodyguards, in your humble opinion. 

Not the president of whatever country, not the elderly monarchs that should be abolished, not billionaires who made their money exploiting the vulnerable. For all you cared, most of those people were entitled assholes who didn’t need to be protected. 

The only people who deserved bodyguards were those under great threat. And sure, the powerful and influential people could be in danger as well. But frankly, you still didn’t care about them. 

And, naturally, when your wealthy father told you he hired a bodyguard for you, you were suspicious. As far as you knew, you weren’t under any threat. Your family wasn’t even multimillionaire status. Just a few millions… 

Certainly not enough to warrant much attention or animosity that your safety was in question. You were only the heiress of a multimillion dollar company. Most of your friends were as well. It was nothing too out of the ordinary in your circle.

You thought having a personal bodyguard was useless and immediately spoke out against your parents when they mentioned they would hire one for you, though none of your complaints were listened to by your family, of course. 

Unfortunately, those complaints melted away when you saw your bodyguard. 

His long, blue hair was tied up in a ponytail on the back of his head and you immediately thought of how fun it looked to play with. His golden eyes drew you in with his serious stare. The tight black fit of his clothes hugged every defined muscle on his arms and abdomen, and you felt yourself staring for just a little too long. 

You met his gaze and the corner of your mouth quirked mischievously when you saw him eyeing you as well. 

“This is your new bodyguard, Jiyan,” introduced your father. “He is to accompany you everywhere, understood? And please, do not try to scare this one off.”

You smiled dryly, shrugging in response. It wasn’t as if your words mattered much around here. At least this time, your bodyguard was handsome enough to look at. Maybe you could even have some fun with him. 

At least, that was your thought before you realized Jiyan took your father’s words very literally. 

He accompanied you back to your apartment—up to the penthouse suite, of course. And you showed him an open guest room for him to stay at if need be. However, he didn’t stop at the living room or common areas like you had expected. Jiyan followed you even as you entered your room. 

As he slid through the door behind you, you gave him a questioning look. 

“Can I help you?” you asked, voice higher than normal. 

He shook his head. “No, I’m only here doing my job.”

“Your job?” you echoed. “Does being my bodyguard entail you being with me no matter where I go?”

Jiyan nodded without the slightest bit of hesitation. “Yes. As your father said, I need to be in the room with you at all times.”

He said that with such sincerely you almost giggled. You were certain he was taking the job too literally, but as you noticed the darkness outside your window, you decided you could mess around with him for a bit. 

“At all times?” you asked with a raised brow.

“That is correct.” 

With an exaggerated sigh, you shrugged. “Suit yourself.” 

When Jiyan didn’t reply, you began taking off your shirt, unfastening the pearl buttons adorning the front. With each button, you revealed more and more skin, from the curve of your breasts to the softness of your stomach. Without turning around to hide yourself, you slipped the sleeves off your shoulders and let the light pink, tweed jacket fall to the floor. 

Jiyan’s expression did not visibly change, but the color of his ears sure did. They were tinged a pretty red and you felt almost bad for teasing him. 

“Are you sure you want to stay in my room at all times, Mr. Bodyguard?”

He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on you but ensuring his gaze never dropped below your face. The self-control of a true bodyguard, you complimented in your head. 

“Is this what your father cautioned against when he said not to scare your new bodyguard off?” retorted Jiyan, answering your question with one of his own. “Is this a common recurrence?”

You shook your head and made a face. “Ew. Never. The last guy was too old and not my type.” 

Jiyan’s lip quirked up—the first time you ever noticed his expression change—before it returned to its normal position. “As opposed to me…?”

“Someone who doesn’t look old enough to be my great-uncle and is very much my type,” you confirmed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have to finish getting undressed for bed.” 

You stood there in front of him in only a bra, a tweed skirt—matching your top that was discarded on the floor, naturally—and thin stockings. Slowly, you unzipped the side of your skirt and paused before it actually fell to the ground. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to step away now?” you said, hesitancy creeping up on you for the first time as your fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra. While you didn’t mind Jiyan seeing you like this, you didn’t actually want to make him uncomfortable. You had some morals, after all. “No one is forcing you to go this far to protect me. I promise, you’d still be an amazing, father-approved bodyguard if you just stayed outside my room and only came to check in on me frequently…”

“I never do my job halfway,” he said firmly. “Unfortunately, with the information your father briefed me with, you never know what could lurk outside, and I am here to ensure your safety at all times. Still, I assure you I do not feel forced to watch. I could have offered to turn around while you changed. If I wanted to.”

“So you’re just being a pervert, then?” you teased. 

“Says the one stripping in front of a stranger with no hesitation. Perhaps next time you should reconsider such actions.”

“You’re not a complete stranger,” you said, finally letting your short skirt fall to the floor. Innocently, you bent over to collect your dirty clothes and place them in the hamper for the maid to take care of. “You’re my bodyguard now, and a hot one at that.” 

Jiyan closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to rid his mind of any indecent thoughts he may have. “Do you need to say bodyguard in such a way that makes it sound…salacious?” 

Moving closer, you batted your lashes as you peered up at him. “That’s just how I normally say it.” 

He sighed and muttered under his breath, “I’m here to protect you from any danger, but what about the danger you’ll pose to me?”

You laughed, not disagreeing with his words. Instead, you placed a gentle hand on his bicep and Jiyan straightened in surprise before reciprocating with his own palm on your exposed lower back.

“It’s a good thing my father will never have to know.”

[skylarkspinner]

fiber art adventures in egypt

I recently got back from a trip to Egypt & finally got around to organizing some pictures to share. One of the things I was most excited about was seeing what I could find on fiber arts and textiles.

Dropping everything under a read more, 'cause this will be a long post haha

first visit: the National Museum of Egyptian Civilization (NMEC)

At the time of visiting, they had a special textiles exhibit. It covered Pharonic Egypt all the way up to modern times, although I only had time to check out the dynastic & a bit of the Coptic portion of the exhibit (which was what I was really hoping to see anyways)

Was super excited to see this diorama in person. I knew about it but had never seen good pictures of it. From the little I've seen of ancient Egyptian spinning, spinning with two spindles seems to be the norm rather than a master technique? It also shows up in tomb art, which the exhibit also shared:

They also used a different fiber preparation (splicing to create a rove of fiber, no traditional drafting to my understanding) so that probably made a difference? Regardless I really want to see if I can replicate the technique, especially because their spindles look so similar to modern spindles??

I took so many pictures of spindles, guys, and I fully intend to either have a few replicas made or to learn to make some myself. Also, although they were unlabeled... I'm pretty sure those are beaters for weaving? That was a bit of a trend with this trip, so much stuff was unlabeled :( I would've killed to at least get some date estimates for some of the stuff they had on display. I was nerding out in here though, and my family took a few pictures of how excited I was getting. A bit embarrassing, but eh haha

The exhibit also had a section on natural dyes used with a fun visual;

There was several diagrams specifically describing each dye source, but in the interest of not overloading on pictures I'll just list them out. For blues; woad, Yellows; turmeric, safflower, saffron, or yellow ochre; reds; madder, henna, pomegranate, and kermes. I originally thought kermes was another way to say cochineal, but it only seems to be distantly related.

next visit: Ramses Wissa Wassef Art Center

A small art center dedicated to hand-weaving wool and cotton tapestries. All of their work was museum quality & awe inspiring!!

Was even invited to their back rooms to watch a few of their weavers working; no I don't have room to put a room-sized loom anywhere but heck do I want one now

Our guide that took us through talked a bit about the natural dyes they use (all of their dyes are dyed in house with what they grow in their dye garden!!!) and got excited to hear I was also interested in natural dyes! He seemed a bit disappointed I'd never worked with indigo and. while indigo scares me, I'll take it as a sign that maybe I should try some time this year haha.

final visit; the Egyptian Museum

we really had to rush through this one which was a huge shame because it's packed full of artifacts. Also, the lighting in there is atrocious, so apologies for the not great pictures ahead.

They had a fascinating display of textile tools, more than what the NMEC had;

(Hand for size reference) I want all of these spindles! So badly! But a few of them look so much like a few of the spindles I own already?? A few of them had a spiraling notch, that's so cool? But also, what's going on with the one with two whorls? I have no idea. I'm fascinated.

Look at these whorls!! Although again, I'm a bit confused; the lack of labeling strikes again. Unsure why some of these "whorls" have two holes, or what the metal object with the wooden handle is. The display implies sewing needles, and some of them do look like it, but others.... really don't look like sewing needles. I'm absolutely enchanted by this little whorl though. I think it has birds on it?

More objects that I'm baffled by- the signage doesn't really indicate what some of this stuff is, if it's even known. Also confused by the object wrapped in white string in the right pic; it looks like a distaff but to the best of my knowledge the (ancient at least) Egyptians didn't use distaffs. It probably popped up in later times and was put in this display since it was still relevant, but I'm still not sure.

I have so many more pictures & thoughts but I'll save those for more specific future projects. I've been doing research outside this trip on ancient Egyptian spinning techniques and desperately want to go deeper into that, this trip just solidified how excited it makes me. If you made it all the way through this, many thanks for reading!

Bonus; look at this ancient linen 🥺

[jmliebert]

♡ Aemond as your boyfriend ♡

(modern) headcanons

meetings in the middle of the night, piercing glances and desperate kisses, Aemond is a little bit obsessed about you

when he's with you, the hard lines blur, revealing a softness that he's kept hidden from the world

when he kisses your palms, he does it slowly, with such devotion. one finger at a time, his eyes never leaving yours

and when you’re not close he needs to know where you are, who you're with, and what you've been doing. he acts like it’s just concern, but there's a possessive edge in his questions

when you're around other people, especially if they're attractive, he becomes extra possessive. he won't outright tell you he's jealous (duh), but you'll notice how he puts his arm around you or touches your shoulder, keeping you close. and that little smirk of his appearing

he holds your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your skin

Aemond doesn't usually like sleeping with someone glued to him, but with you, he makes an exception. over time, he even grows to enjoy it, finding comfort in your warmth

he spoils you, he'll run hot baths for you, and when your shoulders are sore, he'll give you massages (that often lead to something more…just sayin) and let me tell you he’s surprisingly good at it, using his hands to work out every knot while whispering sweet nothings in your ear. he makes you feel important, he makes you feel wanted

when you're asleep, he can't help but touch you. he caresses your cheeks, runs his fingers through your hair, or traces the outline of your hips, silently watching and swallowing you whole with his eye

going back to spoiling you…he might leave a piece of tasteful, expensive jewellery by your bedside, or bring you bouquet of red roses out of the blue

though he may appear distant at times, he's actually attuned to every word you say. he absorbs your conversations, and if you express even the slightest interest in something, you can be sure he'll get it for you

even though he’s serious with others (and often very stiff), he loosens up with you. he might put on a sheet mask when you're watching a movie, just because you asked him to, and he’ll do it without complaint

and about movies, he'll watch every horror movie with you, never flinching at the jump scares or gory scenes. but he's secretly thrilled when you curl up into his arms, hiding your face against his chest, squeezing him tightly. He'll calmly whisper when the scary moment has passed, gently coaxing you to look at the screen again, reassuring you that it's safe to watch now

also I think that he’s the type to show up at your window at 3 AM dressed in black, just because he missed you and your heart races at the sight of him smiling at your surprised expression

he takes you in his arms and kisses you like he's been starving for it, his hands tightening around your waist as if he'd never let go. and every time you gasp in his lips, he loses his mind a little

about intimacy…Aemond is not shy, he likes it rough, raw, and intense. he grips your neck with just the right amount of force, whispering filthy words into your ear that send shivers down your spine. his touch is possessive, he's fascinated by your body—obsessed, really

his mouth finds every inch of you, trailing a line of wet kisses down your lovely skin. he adores the way you squirm beneath him. when he thrusts into you, it's with a force that leaves you breathless, and he bites your nipples with a primal hunger

his hands explore with a kind of need that leaves bruises, but you crave that pain. he is unrelenting, his fingers digging into your hips, your thighs, anywhere he can find purchase

yet!! for all his intensity, he is mindful of your pleasure. he ensures you come first, savoring every ripple of your climax, holding you tightly as you shudder against him

he releases his hot ropes of cum deep inside you (if you’re up to it), and even then, he doesn’t let up. his hips continue to move deliciously, slow and deliberate, milking every last drop of his orgasm. wanting to stay inside you for as long as he can, it feels so good inside you

Aemond’s gaze stays fixed on yours, his breathing ragged and uneven

and after, he treats you with the gentleness of a lover who understands the aftermath of such raw sex. he cleans you up, wiping away the sweat and sticky remnants, kisses your forehead, murmuring how beautiful you are, how good you are for him, but even in those quiet moments, you can feel the intensity of his desire, a fire that never truly goes out. he’s restless when it comes to you

in moments like these, when Aemond is close to your naked body, his hands tracing the contours of your soft skin, he becomes vulnerable, as if the touch of your flesh unlocks something deep within him

you see he often struggles with his emotions and how to put them into words, hence his presents and little gestures, but in moments like this when the world is reduced to just the two of you, he breaks open a little, revealing the depths of his feelings

love is not a word he uses lightly. so when he whispers it to you for the first time in the quiet of the night, when the only sound is your shared breathing and the rustling of sheets

your heart skips a beat. it's not just a word—it's a confession, a declaration of something timeless. the weight of it is enough to crush you, and when he says it, you know he really means it

as he speaks, you can feel the hesitation in his voice, the rawness of his emotions. it's hard to open up to someone like this, despite he tells you that he would do anything for you, that he's at your service

it's funny because at first, you'd think he had you wrapped around his finger, completely under his control. but as time went on, you realised it was the opposite—he was the one utterly at your mercy

these intimate confessions, shared in the darkness, become a sacred bond between you. it's not just about physical closeness; it's about laying bare the heart, exposing the vulnerability that he hides so well from the world

after Aemond's confession, you feel a profound shift in the atmosphere, a change in his touch. it's as if, for the first time, he don't want to just fuck you, he wants to make love to you, you in his arms

you melt into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that feels almost reverent

the urgency and roughness that usually accompany your moments of passion are replaced with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Aemond's hands explore your body with a gentleness that surprises you, tracing delicate patterns on your skin. his lips move across your shoulders, your collarbone, and then up to your lips, kissing you with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. it's a kiss that tells you that you are cherished, that you are loved

his movements are unhurried. he holds you close, his forehead resting against yours as he moves within you, his gaze never leaving yours

the way he holds you, the way he touches you—it's all so gentle, so intimate, and it feels like he's pouring his soul into every gesture

when it's over, Aemond holds you even closer, his breath warm against your skin

the rest of the world fades away, and it's just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet comfort of the night

@venmondiese ! ! !

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about aemond ♡here♡

[jizzwizz69]

I think one of my favorite things I like to do is think about various social taboos/ old superstitious beliefs and apply them to the Obey Me universe and make them canon somehow

For example, that stereotype that water makes witches melt. The truth is, regular water doesn't make them melt. The Devildom canonically has acid rain, and that's what makes witches melt. An old movie where a witch that got burned by acid rain and melted made its way to the human world, and since the humans don't have acid rain, we didn't realize it wasn't normal water. For hundreds of years we've falsely believed water burns witches

Another thing: Hair dye. Humans only have a few natural hair colors. Anything that isn't/ wasn't considered natural was considered demonic. We see demons with unnatural hair colors (Diavolo's deep red, Levi's blue, Mephistopheles Pink, Thirteen's blue,pink, and purple.) Dyeing your hair is like copying a demon. I'm Choosing to believe "kick a ginger day" exists because for a really long time, humans didn't want to believe orange hair was natural

I also like the idea of tattoos being incorporated in this. In the bible, it's believed tattoos are a sin. In the OM universe, I headcanon that people believed tattoos were a sin because the first humans that inked their skin were trying to copy the marks demons leave when making pacts. Some dude made a pact with a demon, got a mark, and another human was like "shit that's cool, time to stab myself with a needle repeatedly and copy that." This is why people get so upset about tattoos. You either made a pact with a demon, or you wish you made a pact with a demon / thought it'd be cool to show off. Some humans copied the markings of famous demon's that had pacts, that way they could show off their tattoo and pretend it was the real pact mark to scare people. Pacts are basically signatures on a contract, a seal signaling some agreement or deal has been made.

Eventually, humans figured out that it could be done purely for cosmetics, and people stopped getting tattoos of demon pact marks. I personally believe Solomon gets unreasonably excited about tattoo shops. He grew up at a time where he'd be beaten and killed for having those marks on his skin, yet in modern times people pay hundreds, sometimes even thousands of dollars to cover their backs and arms with tattoos. The first time Solomon sees another human with an arm sleeve, he loses his mind. "They must be so powerful!!! There are so many pacts!!!" Then he realizes that no, they're not pacts. They're tattoos. And that's even better!!! People aren't afraid anymore!!! He can walk around wearing short sleeve shirts and tank tops in public now!!! What a fun new way to express yourself!!!

Solomon begs and pleads to get matching tattoos with MC. It's like a pact!! But for humans!!! How fucking sick is that?

[aviiarie]

˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ SCAREDY CAT — feat. heizou event masterlist.

synopsis. it seemed like the perfect way to spend the spooky season: watching old horror movies together and laughing at how hilariously not scary they were. but this one is much more... chilling than you were expecting. warnings. none! (i don't think so??) notes. requested by the lovely @objectionloser! can be read as platonic or romantic. fluff. modern au. gn!reader. 1.6k words.

“You’ve got the snacks?” You called over your shoulder, carefully setting up the television. The old DVD player you connected was coated in a thick layer of dust, but quickly sprang to life with a dull chime. You slid the disc into the slot, waiting for it to click into place.

“Yep. M&Ms, soda… and popcorn, of course.” Heizou hummed as he entered the living room, arms full of food and drink. He placed the items down on the coffee table, arranging the bowl of popcorn right in the middle. “You’ve got the movie?”

“Yep.” You fiddled with the buttons on the remote, pausing to let the television turn on. “It’s all set up and ready when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.” Heizou flicked the light switch, coating the room in darkness, lit up by the dull glow of the television screen. He grinned at you, face cast in shadows. “Are you ready?”

You nodded once, placing the remote down on the coffee table and settling into the couch. Heizou sat down at your side, tossing a blanket over to cover you both. He brought the popcorn closer, placing it in the space on the couch between you.

“So where did you get this movie, anyway?” You asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn. On the screen, a poorly edited title card flashed across some shaky footage of a forest.

The Haunting of Oak Manor. Even the title sounded cliché.

“Itto,” Heizou tore open a packet of M&Ms, picking out a few red ones and tossing them into his mouth. The movie finally began, with the screen shifting to show the outside of a rundown mansion. “He has a whole collection of old movies from his grandma, so I asked him to find me the worst-looking horror movie he could find.”

“And he chose this one?” You took a glance at the back of the DVD case. There wasn’t a proper cover, the only sign that it was the right movie was the title scrawled across the plastic in blue sharpie.

“It’s one that he used to watch as a kid. Apparently it’s so bad it’s funny, from what he can remember at least.”

You hummed in assent, eyes glued to the screen. The scene shifted to show the main character, a pouty teenage girl with big headphones and a gray sweater. As she leaned back in her seat, murmuring something about not wanting to move to a new house, her parents scolded her from the front.

“The mother's gonna die first.” Heizou mumbled through a mouth filled with popcorn. “Then the father. Girl's gonna survive though.”

“You making a bet?”

Heizou barked out a laugh. “Do you really want to lose money betting against me?”

You paused. “No.”

He turned his attention back to the screen, chuckling at the over-dramatic acting. “So, the previous owners died in the manor, yet they still decide to move in? Honestly, they're practically asking to be killed by a vengeful spirit.”

“Might as well be holding up a sign saying 'please haunt me!'” You scoffed, watching the girl explore the creepy surroundings of the house. Despite the subpar acting skills of the cast, and the painfully cliched premise, the soundtrack was surprisingly fitting for the movie. The music was eerie, and each sound effect made your hair stand on end.

You shivered, huddling under the blanket further. It wasn't as if you were scared, but the sound design was apt at setting you on edge. Heizou glanced over, a small smirk growing on his face. “Don't tell me the spooky house is scaring you?”

“Of course not,” you huffed, ignoring his snickers. You focused solely on the screen, watching intently as the girl slowly pulled away a sheet to reveal a large oil painting. With a gasp, she looked in horror at a portrait of herself staring back at her.

“Creepy...” You breathed out.

“Creepy, and predictable.” Heizou laughed.

Maybe the detail was predictable to Heizou, but it was still enough to unsettle you further. The movie continued, and the strange happenings in the manor piled up until the main character was jumping at every noise and peering around corners with fear in her eyes. The mysterious portrait was followed by doors slamming by themselves, glass shattering without warning, and a message of 'get out' appearing on the walls.

The scenes were tropey and cliche, but there was still something chilling about it. Perhaps the dramatized acting wasn't as laughable as you'd thought, if the same fear was spilling through the screen and making you shiver.

Eventually the girl snapped, after seeing the shadows of the house shift and move into a figure of a person reaching out to her. She ran to her mother, begging her to run far away from the mansion.

“You don't get it!” She cried, clinging to her mother's sleeve like she was a child. “There's something evil in this house!”

“I'm getting tired of this,” Her mother sighed, pulling her sleeve free. She folded her arms across her chest, stepping back and frowning at her daughter. With her back turned to the wall, she was oblivious to the way the shadows moved. “There is nothing in this—Argh!”

“Mother!” The girl screamed, as the older woman was grabbed by the shadowy figure and slammed against the wall. Before her eyes, the mother’s body was shoved through the open window behind her, tumbling down three stories until she landed on the ground with a sickening crack.

“Told you!” Heizou crowed, not looking scared in the slightest. “Mother dies first.”

“Isn't this supposed to be a terrible horror movie?” A nervous laugh bubbled out of your mouth, disguising the way your throat was tightening. It really wasn't that scary, and the effects weren't that realistic, but your heart was still pounding.

“Aw, is it too much for you? You want me to hold your hand?” Heizou's voice was teasing, but there was a trace of worry underneath. “We can put on something else—”

“No!” You quickly cut him off, fixing your eyes on the screen and ignoring the way your skin crawled. You weren't a coward, you could make it through a horror movie, especially one as dull as this.

Heizou stared at them for a moment. “If you say so...”

And so, the movie continued.

The father was killed off next, as Heizou predicted, but for some reason your companion didn't seem interesting in bragging about his correct guess. Maybe the scariness was starting to get to him too.

The girl's mission to kill the evil spirit of the house led to the discovery of a creature lurking in her walls, seemingly at the beck and call of the ghost. Her determination sharpened into a weapon of its own, as she prepared herself to hunt it down.

By then, you couldn't pull your eyes away, heart slamming in your chest. For the first time in the entire movie, Heizou was deadly still beside them, his own eyes wide. The pair huddled closer together, staring at the screen with bated breath.

The main character, equally as fearful, crept quietly through the halls with a steak knife in her hand. There was blood staining her clothes, but a spark of determination in her eyes. She tiptoed towards an object covered with a sheet, pulling it away with a flourish to reveal—

A chair.

She breathed out in relief, and the scene fell silent. One moment passed by slowly... then another... then—

Then, there was a guttural screech and a hideous monster appeared, lunging at the girl. It sprung towards her, all teeth and claws aiming for her throat.

You shrieked at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut.

But at the same moment that the creature leapt out on the screen, a cold hand fell onto your shoulder, the touch sending your panic into overdrive. Your heart stopped, your mind went blank, and a frantic scream tore from your throat, harmonizing with the girl on screen.

Your screech was enough to shock Heizou into screaming as well, and you both recoiled sharply away from the hand. In your panic, the blanket tangled around your legs, making you lose your balance and tumble from the couch in a pile of limbs and popcorn.

You cowered from whatever had reached out for you, shielding your face with your hands. It had to be a ghost, a creature of some kind, just like in the film.

But instead of charging at you, the light switch was abruptly turned on. The harsh light blinded you momentarily, but blinking away the spots in your vision revealed your assailant was none other than... Itto?

“I'm not that scary, am I?” He looked almost hurt by the idea.

“Itto! What are you doing here?” You didn't know whether to feel relieved that you weren't being attacked by an evil spirit, or angry at him for frightening you so much.

“I'm just returning the board game I borrowed. You didn't answer when I knocked, so I just used the spare key.” Itto shrugged nonchalantly, as if he didn't just scare the living daylights out of you.

“Why would you just grab my shoulder randomly? You almost gave me a heart attack!” You hissed, still shaking slightly.

“I was trying to get your attention! And you seemed really focused, I didn't think you'd hear me!” Itto protested. “I didn't think!”

“Maybe... think, next time.” Heizou said through gritted teeth.

Itto's look of remorse was only momentary, his face brightening as he noticed the screen. “You're watching the movie! How is it? Not scary at all, right?”

You and Heizou exchanged a look.

“Nah,” Heizou eventually replied, a weak smile on his face. “It's nothing.”

🏷️ taglist: @tragedy-of-commons, @mollzaj, @wystiix, @mikashisus.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[noellefan101]

Stealing Their Hoodie-Genshin

Characters: Tighnari, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Cyno, Xiao, Albedo x gn! reader

Summary: You steal his hoodie, what do you think abt it + what do they think abt it

Warnings: established relationship, modern au(i guess), you´re shorter than him, studying(albedo)

Note: i really hope you like this. it was honestly a pain to write three fics in a row, but i´m still alive i guess(if i don´t post in the next week im dead). also, i´m changing my theme a little, luv you.

Tighnari

you really wanted to try out his hoodie, he always wears it and it looked really comfy. you just didn´t know if he would get mad if you tried it on. it was his favorite hoodie and you didn´t want to make him mad if he didn´t like you wearing it/I'd say he´s really scary when he´s mad, like a mad mom kinda scary/. anyway, when you put it on you really didn´t want to take it off, it was just soooo comfy, and warm, and soft, and big, and... you get it. you were so lost in the comfiness and the smell of his perfume, that you didn´t realize someone just came home. yeah, unfortunately you were caught. at least he wasn´t mad, well... maybe a little, but that was mainly because you could´ve just asked instead.

one of the last things he wants you to be is a thief, just ask next time.

Wanderer/Scaramouche

he looked so good in it, you wanted to try it too. but the only problem was, that your boyfriend had a lot of temper. and you didn´t know if he would react badly/or just kill you on the spot/so you thought about asking, but got scared of the thought immediately. so the day of the week he wasn´t home you went for it, and you found it and tried it on. just as you thought, it looked really pretty on you. and it was really comfy too. the only thing that was wrong, he was coming home early as a surprise, and of course he didn´t tell you(ofc you didn´t its a f*''*ing surprise, why tf did i write that). but i guess he surprised you more than he thought, because he also surprised himself. he may have tried to ignore it, but you could clearly tell he noticed by his light red cheeks. but it was only because you looked really good in it.

he´ll be surprising you a lot more, to reveal all your secrets.

Cyno

his cloak from the manga as a hoodie omg give. me. one... 'cough cough' anyway, you really liked this one hoodie he had, why it was reeeaally big and looked oh-so-comfy. you really wanted to try it out, but you didn´t know how he would react if you asked. and you were kinda scared of it. sure he was not as scary around you, but you hadn´t done anything like this before, so how would you know how he would be if you did. sooooo you decided to "borrow" one of his hoodies while he was out. and, just as you thought, it was really comfortable and really big on you too, and as a bonus, it smelled like him. you eventually fell asleep in it, and didn´t wake up when Cyno came home either. he just looked at you confused as to why you were wearing his hoodie, but ignored it and brought you to bed. when you woke up he just started telling bad hoodie jokes, while you looked like a fresh tomato, great.

he would love you even more if you´d laugh at his jokes.

Xiao

you first liked the big hoodie he wears in the winter, it looked comfy and was big on him, therefore bigger on you. you wanted to try it on, but didn´t know how to ask. you did think about asking but was afraid of him reacting badly. so one day, when he wasn´t home, you just took a look into his closet and chose something you would want to wear. you chose this big blue and black, though mostly blue, hoodie since he wears it a lot. and when you put it on you, you fell in love, it was way to big on you, and it smelled exactly like him. but you didn´t really want to take it off just yet, and kept it on for the rest of the day. and then... xiao came home, he didn´t see his hoodie on you immediately, but could sense that something was different. but when he finally noticed, he just blushed a little. kidding he looked like a fresh tomato/very pretty one/and didn´t want to talk to you for a little, but it was fine in the end. and he eventually got over it.

no he´s not cute when blushing, or at least he doesn´t want to admit it.

Albedo

you see, he had this one hoodie he wore all the time/it´s mostly while he´s studying, but he does that a lot/and there was just something about it that you really liked. maybe it was how big it looked on him/meaning bigger on you/or maybe it was only the fact that it's his. soooo... when he was out for a group project, where he couldn´t wear his studying hoodie(yes im gonna call it that)because that wouldn´t be appropriate. so, you just took a little look in his closet, finding his hoodie and put it on. and as you thought it was way to big on you, but it was really comfy. and it also smelled like him, the perfume he uses, mixed with his shampoo. the only problem was just that albedo was coming home early/because he´s a genius, so they finished quickly/and you didn´t know. so when he got home you both got a surprise, you didn´t know he would be coming home early, and he saw you in his hoodie. he wasn´t mad or anything, but he just didn´t know how to react/he thought you looked cute in it though/.

he didn´t know this was what he would be coming home to.

Thank you for reading this thing, luv ya-Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

[elliesmainhoe]

literally begging for more of the modernau!ellie x femreader (you're feminine)

Ellie Williams Headcanons: Feminine!Reader (modern!au)

Part 2 of this

Ellie adores how unashamed you are of being 'girly'

You dressed in typically 'girly clothes', you had 'girly hobbies' etc. Etc.

Said hobbies being the classic knitting, arts and crafts and reading

She absolutely loves when you infodump to her about your books.

Her stupid smile as you talk about a mystical fantasy or a cheesy sapphic romance.

Pottery dates

"C'mon Ells- were gonna be late!" You cried, holding onto her hand as you began to walk faster.

"The pottery studio is literally just round the corner princess" she said as you turned the bend, a pastel pink shop front with the words 'Polly's Pottery' written in gold across the window.

"C'mon, c'mon c'mon!" You giggled rushing into the studio, the bell chiming as you walked through the door.

You made a pastel pink bowl with little red strawberries all over it with sage green stems!

She made a space themed mug. Dark blue base and planets and stars scattered all over.

You gifted them to eachother afterwards <33

You have knitted Ellie a sweater. It was pink and definitely not her style. But she wears it with pride! ✊

Loves all the decor you buy.

The comparison of her industrial, grungy decoration and your bright neons, pastel cooky nik-naks.

Ellie is a MASTER at doing your hair.

Doesn't matter what hair type you have- she is willing to learn.

Face masks with Ellie.

Ellie was sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet as you brushed on a cool paste onto their face.

"This feels so fucking weird." She grimaced at the texture.

"Oh don't be such a baby" you teased and pecked her cheek, already sporting the same mask on your face.

Is your knight in shining armour.... When it comes to catching spiders that are threatening you.

You:

Baby 9:46pm

Come home rn 9:46pm

I'm scared 9:46pm

Ellie:

What's wrong baby? 9:49pm

I'm heading home as we speak 9:49pm

You:

We have an intruder 9:50pm

Ellie:

What? 9:50pm

Fuck baby! 9:50pm

You alright- what's the fucker look like. 9:50pm

You:

It has eight legs 9:51pm

It has hair on it Ellie. I CAN SEE THE BASTARDS HAIR. 9:51pm

She comes home and kills it for you 🥰

Then lectures you for making her so scared- she was one tap away from calling 911.

"I love you princess. But never ever pull that shit again"

-----------

Taglist: @aunslie @lonelyfooryouonly @prettypeoniesx @daryldixonh0e @kittynnie @lovelyyevelyn @randomhoex @moonlightdivine @haerinwho @mufflaa @mial1l @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @moonlighting87 @escaping-reality8 @magicalfreakcowboylawyer @hejdevkdbdjsd @dergy @half-of-a-gay @ellieismami @cyberlainn @gollumsmygel @sseorii @kyleeservopoulos @taloulalila @ellieluhme @kiiyoooo @delusionalvioleht @joelscharm @hi2647

[xx-j4nu5-c4t5-xx]

look what finally remembered it has a tumblr account 💀 hi everybody

I drew a couple premades with colors based on albums that remind me of them, thought y'all would enjoy

nervous - who really cares (tv girl)

ripp - sports (modern baseball)

I ramble about them under here

janus shut up about tv girl challenge 💀 this isn't even really my favorite band lmfao I just feel like it suits nervous and pascal so well. there's this overwhelming vibe of longing in that whole album, like you had something wonderful and now it's gone and you're scared that that was the peak of your life, and it's all downhill from here. now it's just the memories and the bitterness and the things you left in each other's apartments. OUUGGH IM RGRGH AUGH

drawing-wise I like how nervous's drawing turned out. I have a tendency to absolutely destroy my colors and make them all muddy and blended so being limited to like five colors total and having to use the screen tones and dithering effects and stuff made it feel really... sharp, I guess? I don't like how it interfered with some of the details (like the face) but it was definitely a good way to tie everything together. main gripes with this one are the bandage on his leg (I know the blue is like symbolic or something but why is it so much darker than his skin it looks stupid) and the brick in the background because WHAT HAPPENED 😭 I finished this drawing at like 3am and I really thought I knocked it out of the park with that

ripp's is definitely worse though. the cover for who really cares is incredibly simple, but the one for sports is a whole picture, and I feel like I didn't lean hard enough into the yellows that dominate most of it. the piece looks nice, don't get me wrong; the colors are way richer than I usually would've chosen and it looks awesome, but... it doesn't look anything like the reference. which was kind of the idea. with nervous's, even though it's not incredibly similar to the album cover, you can see where I'm going with it. I don't think anyone would know that ripp's was based on the album cover unless you told them. I set myself up for failure the second I used more red/orange tones than the yellows and creams. whoopsie daisy I guess

I can't really pick out a single song that reminds me of ripp from this album, but I feel like the whole thing gives off "I need to get out of my hometown asap" vibes, as well as the weird awkwardness that comes with figuring out what to do next, which I feel absolutely screams ripp. go struggling small town boy! struggle to navigate early adulthood!

anyway idk I kinda hate both of them just because I've been staring at them for probably six hours combined and I'm about to explode

I might do more of these with other characters but there's not a lot of other premades that I associate with entire albums rather than random songs so idk we'll see

as a parting gift here's a shitty doodles of pascal and nervous as the dogs from twin fantasy by car seat headrest

(the words in the background are random lyrics from the album)

[leslie-lyman]

Election Night

A Euclidean Geometry drabble

Summary: Election night 2024 does not go as they’d hoped.

Pairing: modern!Pero Tovar x Frankie x Jack x nameless!OFC/f!reader (written in third person, reader is only referred to as she/her/their girl, with no physical descriptors)

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: G, just some election-related angst/hurt/comfort

a/n: Trying to work through my feelings about the 2024 election results. Would like to have three large Pedro boys comfort me. Had a breakdown. Wrote this.

Masterlist.

———

She hadn’t wanted to stop watching the results come in.

Not even after the swing states had started to fall, one by one, like red dominoes. But at some point the hands she’d pressed tightly over her mouth had begun to shake, tears spilling down her face, breath catching in her throat with each shallow inhale.

Frankie had finally turned off the tv, slipped her phone into his pocket, and carried her to bed. They’d pressed in tight against her as she sobbed, soaking the front of Jack’s tshirt as he held her against his chest, crying so hard she nearly made herself sick.

I don’t understand, she’d said, over and over. I don’t understand. This can’t be happening again. I can’t do it, I can’t face another four years of this…

In that moment the worst thing is how helpless they feel. The three of them are smart, strong, capable men, men who are trained to protect, to figure out how to get out of impossible situations. And if they could they’d burn the world down if anyone or anything caused their girl to hurt like this. But there’s nothing they can do to fix it.

She’s scared for herself, yes, but they know she’s far more worried about the three of them. The horizon of possibility stretches terrifyingly wide before them.

Pero has his green card, but will that matter? How careless and indiscriminate will the promised deportations be? At the end of the day, being a tan-skinned, Spanish-speaking immigrant may be more than enough to put a target on his back. Frankie and Jack are citizens, but neither has to branch out terribly far in their respective family trees to find relatives who are undocumented.

To say nothing of the fact that the four of them live together in a queer, polyamorous relationship. Where even now they have to be vigilant in public, wary of how obvious they are, always aware that simply being who they are out loud could result in unexpected attack. How much worse will it get? How much harm will be caused?

And as they do their best to soothe the woman they love, they know this reaction isn’t just about fear, or frustration, or anger.

It’s grief.

It feels like suffering through a death because that’s what it is. The death of a hope, of a dream, of what could have been and what should be if there was any justice or common sense or decency in the world. And even though this grief inwardly pummels them black and blue too, they know they will never truly feel it the way their girl does. The unique pain of women, who hope so much for so little, for even just the opportunity to be equal, and to be denied so resoundingly. To have gotten so close to a woman president and to have that chance ripped away by a man as odious as he is dangerous not once, but twice? It’s just cruel.

They do what they can for her, holding her close, letting her cry it out, murmuring soft words of reassurance.

It’ll be okay, sweetheart. Just let it out.

We’re here. We’ve got you. We’ve always got you.

I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m so sorry.

Tears roll down their cheeks and they try to muffle their sniffles for her sake, but the looks they share with each other are pained and haunted.

At last their girl quiets, having cried herself into a fitful doze. The clock on the bedside table reads 1:37am.

Jack, Pero, and Frankie all lie awake, ingrained military instincts refusing to let them sleep when they have something precious to keep watch over.

Jack breaks the silence.

I’ll call our lawyer later today, he half-whispers. Make sure we have all our paperwork in order. Wills, power of attorney, that sort of thing. So we’re as protected as possible, legally speakin’, should anything happen to one of us.

Frankie and Pero nod in silent agreement.

We should sit down with Robert soon, Frankie adds, mentioning their financial advisor. Reassess where we’re at, have a contingency plan in case we decide we need to move.

She’ll want to increase where and how much we donate, Jack adds, looking down at their girl with her head on his chest, one first curled into his shirt.

This is good. This is a plan. This is what they need.

We should go away for a bit. Pero’s voice is low and deep in the dark. Take some time somewhere remote, just the four of us.

I can think of a long weekend in January when I wouldn’t mind be disconnected from the rest of the world, Frankie quips humorlessly.

There’s an old Daniels family cabin in the U.P., near Mackinac, Jack says. Snow-covered trees, big roaring fireplace, little to no cell service…

Their girl shifts to blink sleepily up at him, just awake enough now to interject.

What about someplace warm, Jack?

Oh you’d be kept plenty warm, sugar. Don’t you worry about that.

He softly brushes her hair back from her tear-stained face, placing a delicate kiss to her forehead.

How are you feeling, querida?

She reaches for Pero’s hand to anchor herself before she answers him.

Sad. Scared. Angry.

That is how you should feel, Frankie murmurs, and the validation is strangely reassuring.

And tired, she says, tears starting to clog up her throat again. Fuck, I’m so damn tired. Tired of fighting, of resisting, of feeling like I’m screaming at the top of my lungs to have my and others’ basic humanity recognized by people too devoid of empathy to care. I’m so, so tired.

I know, querida, I know you are. And it seems overwhelming right now. But the alternative is giving up. And that is the only thing that truly feels impossible to do, no?

Her hand squeezes Pero’s as she nods, reluctantly conceding that he’s right.

But not at this moment, Frankie says. We should rest. There’s nothing else we can do at this moment.

Their girl turns to face him, making sure she’s still touching all three of them before closing her eyes and snuffling down into the pillow.

Should call our lawyer, she mumbles, starting to slip away into sleep again. And Robert…make sure we protect ourselves…as much as possible…

The three men share an amused look.

Those are great ideas, baby, Frankie praises her quietly, pulling a blanket up to her chin. We’ll do that.

And maybe…find a place to go…a beach somewhere?

Muffled chuckles break out around her.

Whatever you want, darlin’, says Jack.

It doesn’t matter where they go. And whatever happens next, they can face it, as long as they’re together.

[glitterforashes]

Hey, idk if you’re still active but if you are could you do Larry HC please!

𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ; 𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

>>>>> heyyy chat so contrary to popular belief i am indeed alive (but barely) and upon remembering i do have a page and multiple people who would like to hear from me i decided to drop a lil single iykwim 🔥. no but on a srs note im sorry for disappearing and I hope u enjoy! thank you for requesting, lovely <3

is the modern day Bob Ross

has so many pairs of jeans with paint and pen marks all over them

regularly walks around with a blunt tucked behind his ear

is actually the sweetest dude ever

is way smarter than you’d think he is

regularly asks to paint you, only to end up painting something completely different

walks you to your classes at school (on accident. you always end up crossing paths and then he starts yapping and forgets you two dont have the same classes and proceeds to have to sprint to make it to his own class on time)

yall first met through the elevator. you were waiting for it, and the doors opened, and he was inside with earbuds in very aggressively playing an air-guitar solo. stood up straight the second he realized you were there and then refused to speak or look at you for the elevator ride. was so embarrassed he wanted to cry. he told Sally about it. Sally laughed at him so hard he started coughing.

you started seeing him around more often after that, and you two became friends

your name in his phone is “Blink” because when you first met all you did was stare at him then blink very slowly.

his name in your phone is “Master of Puppets”. i will not be elaborating

you spend a lot of time in his apartment

his mom has stopped asking if you’ll be over, just asks when so she knows if she needs to make extra supper.

he steals YOUR clothes. if you accidentally leave a tshirt at his place you’ll never see it again

stares unblinkingly at you sometimes. it freaks you out.

“larry. im about to poke you in the eye.”

“oh, my bad dude.”

you two have a best-friends-that-get-asked-if-they’re-dating-constantly-and-say-no-but-would-also-marry-each-other kind of friendship

is a rememberer. remembers every little thing you tell him. you like apples? there will be apples at his place next time for you. you dont like being cold? he turns his ceiling fan off when you come around.

is very attentive, but nobody would ever know because he never comments on what he sees.

you signed him up for Homecoming King elections one year. he did NOT find it as funny as you did.

he won.

the popular kids were pissed.

he was pissed.

you laughed your ass off.

has LED’s in his room. they’re always blue or red.

paints his nails

tried to pierce his own ears once. it didn’t work. he showed up at your door with a stud earrings poking through his earlobe and blood running down his neck.

“larry what the freak did you do.”

“earrings :(“

likes to cuddle once he gets more comfortable with you

if you two are sitting on the couch together, his arm is permanently over the back of it and by default around you in a way

manspreads like no other. its so annoying.

actually is a gentleman and very considerate

doesn’t ever flirt with you too hard or initiate physical touch, lets you do it to avoid making you uncomfortable

is playful

“larry, you’re standing too close.” “scared you’re gonna fall in love?” “you wish.”

once you two are very comfortable around each other he’ll come up behind you and rest his chin on your shoulder or on top of your head and slink his arms around your waist real lazily.

“whatcha doin?” “minding my business.”

at first, if you stayed the night, he’d sleep on the floor despite your protests and let you sleep in his bed.

now you two share his bed, and occasionally wake up with your legs tangled together.

loves being little spoon even though he would never tell anybody but you that fact.

bagel bite enthusiast.

larry chucked a sweater at you as you sat on his bed, poised and rigid, trying to be a good model for his still-life portrait of you. “what’s this for?” you asked. although majority of his body was hidden behind the canvas, you could see the slight movements of his arms and shoulders as he moved the paint brush across the scene. “you’re shivering.” he stated shortly, clearly in focus mode. although you didn’t know how he could manage to focus so diligently with Sanity Falls blaring from his record player and filling every crevice of the room.

“sorry.” you said, quickly tugging the sweater on then re-assuming your previous pose. you didn’t know why you agreed to model for him every time he asked. zero out of ten times has the portrait ever actually turned out to be a portrait of you. once, he literally made you pose for an hour just to end up painting a picture of himself riding a unicorn. you were pretty sure he had smoked a little more than his body weight could handle that day. his brown eyes peeked from over the canvas every so often, observing you, which you didn’t mind. larry had probably seen more of your body than you cared to admit, or realize, considering you two felt more than comfortable changing in front of each other and sleeping with just tshirts and underwear on in the same room.

it felt like hours had passed before you saw larry rise from his seat on the stool, his knees and elbows popping loudly as he stretched. “alright. the genius has concluded his work.” he smirked, glancing at you through his lashes. “larry, i don’t even think you know how to spell concluded.” you teased as you followed his lead, standing and stretching and groaning as your muscles began to loosen again.

“so, what creature did you paint this time?” you walked towards him but he grabbed the canvas and held it close to him, squinting his eyes at you. “uhm, you can’t see it.” he said sassily. “uhm, ‘i cant see it’ my left nut! i just sat and posed for two hours dude, let me see!” you advanced on him and reached your hand out to grab the canvas but he ducked away, extending an arm out to keep you at a distance. “okay! fine, but you have to stand there,” he pointed to a spot a few steps away, “and close your eyes.”

you pursed your lips and rolled your eyes, putting your hands on your hips as you dramatically took a few steps back and closed your eyes. “gosh, how atrocious could it be if i need to close my eyes first?” you said. usually, he’d chuckle or laugh, but he didn’t this time. you heard some rustling and then a beat of silence before he said, “okay, open them.”

you opened your eyes and your hands immediately flung to your mouth, covering it as your eyes widened. in front of you was larry, in all his messy-haired, paint-splattered-jean, muscle tank top glory holding a painting of you. a hyper-realism painting of you. he managed to fit *every* detail into it, capturing every dip and curve and mark on your face. the painting only went from your shoulders and up, but that alone had you on the verge of tears.

“larry..” you mumbled, taking a step forward to examine it closer. he even managed to note the small freckles you had, so small that you forgot you even had them sometimes. “do you like it?” he asked quietly, his demeanor starting to change from nervous to insecure. “yes!” you said quickly. “yes, yes i love it! it’s beautiful.” you said. you stepped forward and took the painting gently from his hands and placed it on the easel before launching your arms around his nape, falling into an easy hug as he wrapped his arms loosely around your waist and rested his cheek on top of your head.

“thank you.” you said quietly, resting your head on his shoulder. “you’re welcome.” you two stood like that for a bit, neither of you ready nor feeling the need to break the hug, when you felt him mumbling against your hair. “huh?” you said. he lifted his chin and repeated, “c-o-n-c-l-u-d-e-d. concluded.”

one, two, three beats of silence before you were giggling and slapping his shoulder, looking up at his smug and smiling face. “oh whatever! you probably googled that. that’s why you told me to close my eyes.” “oh you wish! don’t be bitter cause im smarter than you.” “you could only dream of being smarter than me.” you smiled, shaking your head with laughter. your laughter turned into a lazy grin as you rocked your bodies side to side, looking at his face. “seriously, thank you.” “no problem.” he said. you turned your head away from him to glance behind you at the painting. it wasn’t until then that you noticed a very small, very enthusiastic stick-figure rendition of larry in the corner of the canvas holding up a flower. you decided you wouldn’t tell him you noticed as you smiled again, wondering how you managed to make a friend like him.

[faetima]

𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. .

. .your love had turned into ashes.

// tws ; slight cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au, you n sunday are exes

the time of daylight in your day seemed shorter than everybody else’s—when their day was filled with sunlight, the sun had already set in yours, leaving nothing but twilight.

if you recalled your thoughts about him, even in the middle of the day, it would become night again.

there was no escape.

sunday’s words used to make your heart flutter, your neck heat up, your ears burn, your face break out into a grin.

now?

now those same words made you fucking furious. they made you want to kick and scream and cry and cry and cry. cry tears of anger of sadness of everything you had felt ever since he had left you.

it was winter. the temperature had cooled down outside, but the feelings between you both had only gotten hotter.

they had burned up. now only ashes of the darkest black remained.

ashes the same color as the roses you were coughing up now.

you dry-heaved, gagging up pitch black roses. the once sweet aroma they had carried, the aroma you had once loved, had now turned sickly. 

just smelling it made you want to hurl.

you coughed and coughed and coughed, black petals falling onto the floor. the stark contrast between the pure white of the tiles and the darkness of the roses made you dizzy.

no trace of sunday remained in your home. you had gotten rid of everything he had left—toothbrush, some random ass documents, pictures of him, everything. if your love had been a fire, only ash remained.

but, even if you had gotten rid of every memory of him, you still cried when you thought of him. 

your lungs and throat burned, begging for mercy. black roses—splattered with scarlet droplets—flopped onto the tiling, staining it with the same red they were coated with. the flowers shone underneath the blaring, almost fluorescent, lights of your house, slick with mucus and spit.

sobs wracked your body. your tears, salty and crystal clear, spilled onto the floor and the stupid roses, translucent drops of your misery.

of course, out of all people, you had to be in love with your fucking ex that had broken up with you.

fuck, you hated everything. you hated yourself you hated him you hated your feelings for him you hated how every single fucking time you looked out the window it was twilight you hated how—

another series of harsh coughs interrupted your thoughts, breaking you out of your daze.

it was supposed to be three in the afternoon, but, for you, the sun was setting and it was night again in your room.

—

you wanted to throw up.

sunday looked so pretty in all the photos you had taken of him. a gentle smile on his angelic face, his gray-blue hair a little messy but neat at the same time, his amber eyes soft with affection.

fuck, you wanted to go back in time.

you couldn’t even bring yourself to delete the photos you had of him on your phone.

god, you were pathetic. 

your love for each other had begun to crack, falling apart, so much so you were scared to touch the cracks in fear it would break more.

—

the once delicate adoration you had held for one another had faded away into bitter resentment, mixed with lingering feelings.

was there no pretty, happy ending?

—

you took shallow, shaky breaths, thorns piercing your lungs and digging into your throat as you spat out bitter black roses. your eyes burned with tears of pain and sadness, while your throat was raw from all the coughing.

you hurled another batch of the ugly fucking roses, barley able to breathe. black spots, the same color as the roses, danced in and out of your vision, making you dizzy. your room spun around you, and you clutched onto the floor with your trembling, frail hands.

it was harder to find him than all the stars in the sky. did he hide behind clouds? you couldn’t even see him in your dreams, let alone in your memories, now.

you couldn’t even see him in your future.

you gasped for air, eyes fluttering open and shut, lungs begging for mercy.

before you closed your eyes for the last time, you glanced out your window at the night and the emptiness left in it.

[euniveve]

𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞 — k. ayato

pairings: ayato x reader tags: christmas, modern AU, angst to fluff w.c: 839 a.n: this is a very very very very late christmas present for @fuoon as part of the @2023gisecretsanta event! I never back down never give up (also i was technically sick so i can latch on to that reasoning hahahhahah I'm still very sorry tho) merry christmas, happy new years, hopefully you like your gift!

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry but there’s an emergency meeting that can’t be delayed. I’ll be home as soon as it’s finished.”

You let out a sigh of defeat, looking at the bare Christmas tree in the corner of your living room. The spruce sits there, dreary and gloomy, void of life and celebration, just like your heart. The corner of your lips twitch and you swallow the growing lump in your throat, your eyes shifting back towards the fireplace.

“It’s alright,” you reply, your voice shaky before clearing your throat, “hopefully your meeting goes well.”

“Again my love, I am so sorry, I’ll try to make it up–”

You press the red button before you can hear him say anything more, sparing you the inevitable disappointment it would bring.

Ayato always does this; business before family, or perhaps in his mind it is one and the same. After all, the man has been brought up for the sake of the company, his parents burdening him with the knowledge that it will all be his responsibility someday. That “someday” came 3 years ago and it has been weighing heavily on your relationship.

Last year you were stuck with his sister, Ayaka, and housekeeper Thoma while the head of the Kamisato Corporation ended up coming home after the celebration was finished and the leftovers from the feast stored away. They aren’t bad company per se, you could even say their presence is enjoyable, but they aren’t him.

They are not Kamisato Ayato.

Granted, the previous years he had returned home in time, but this year is no different than that one. The only difference is that Ayaka and Thoma were busy this time of the year, something about helping with the business, so it seems like you will be celebrating alone. 

You suppose you are being selfish, seeing that his enterprise is the one managing the cultural aspect of the Tri-Commision, therefore they would be busy in the time of holidays, it is given. A sacrifice you would have to make, a taste for the coming years undoubtedly.

Wishing for it to change is a childish dream; you are only his fiancee after all. You ought to understand.

You look around the boxes, spotting your headphones before putting them on and arranging your favourite playlist to keep your mind off things, humming along to the tune of a familiar song. 

With absentminded singing, you pick up the tinsel and begin to wrap it around the tree, arranging tiny lights in between the branches. Your fingers twirl the ornaments before placing them in a neat and florid manner. 

Staring blankly at the now fully decorated tree, you took a couple of steps back, trying to admire your own work; that is, before your back pressed against something… warm?

You furrowed your brow, your lips pressed together as your heart began to beat faster in a panic. You quickly contemplate many possibilities; did an intruder manage to get past the property’s tight security? Are you going to get mugged? Will Ayato be sad if a bunch of stuff is missing?

You shook your head; the fiancee of the richest man in Inazuma shouldn’t be scared of such things– so you bite the bullet and turn around, only to be greeted by those dreamy blue eyes and an aloof smile, one you have the pleasure of witnessing every morning.

Ayato reaches over to you, his gaze soft as his hand gently grabs onto your headphones and removes them from your head, your heart beating out of your chest as you watch his every move.

“Ayat-”

Warmth engulfed you both as you felt his soft lips against yours, his arm wrapped around your waist, a tender touch shared only between couples; the happiest couple you know.

“But you said you wouldn’t?” You whisper with bated breath, “How.. why?”

“I will not miss another Christmas with you,” he softly replies before letting one of his mischievous smiles slip in, “After all, there are worse nights to miss than this one.”

“Pfft…”

His blue eyes shift away from your face, that smirk still sitting on his lips before his sights landed on the fully decorated Christmas tree, except for arguably, the most important part. “Where is the star?”

He slightly bent down, resting his chin on your shoulder, kissing your jaw before whispering into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your earlobe almost making you shiver. “Were you waiting for me to put it, darling?”

“As if!” You stifle a chuckle, eyeing the golden star on one of the boxes before tugging the fabric of his suit. “But could you perhaps do it?”

Ayato hummed, his arm’s grip tightened on your waist, peppering kisses on your shoulder before finally loosening and walking over to the boxes, picking up the star and placing it on top of the tree effortlessly. He then suddenly turned around, taking a mistletoe out of his pocket and holding it high up.

“Shall we complete the ultimate Christmas tradition, my love?”

[smallgodseries]

[image description: A chipper character wearing a red and deep blue plaid shirt and newsperson’s cap. They hold a bottle in their right hand and point at it with their left. The classic symbols for ‘Male’, ‘Female’, are entwined with a question mark — these symbols appear to be spinning differently on the bottle front than on its neck. Inside the thin golden bezel cameo oval that may (or may not) be shifting its orientation is an impressionist mix of magenta and blue. outside it, five colored horizontal stripes  — Pink, White, Magenta, Black, and Blue.Text reads, “201, RIVER ALGOOD, the small god of the Gender Fluid”]

• • • • •

“Okay, kid, so you found the bar.  Good on you.  That means you need to be here.  No, there’s no cover charge, and we don’t care how old you are—think of it as a public house or an inn as much as it’s a tavern.  Or hell, go with coffee shop.  That’s a modern way of saying ‘gathering place with drinks and plenty of chairs, where you can be yourself with other people who are also being themselves, and not need to worry about anybody seeing you.’  This idea that bars are only about the alcohol is a lot more recent.  But then again, so is clean water.

“Huh?  Yeah, I do talk about it like I was there, because kid, I always have been.  Go all the way back to the creation, to the first people we’d recognize as humans, standing there all hairy and muddy and naked, and there were always the ones who felt like they were one thing when people said they were something else, or who were something different today than they were yesterday, than they’d be tomorrow.  You’re nothing new.

“Honey, you don’t gotta look so scared.  You’re here.  That tells me you belong here, and that tells me you’re one of mine.  If you weren’t, you’d never have found the doors.  I’m not going to judge anything except that nail polish—it looks like you didn’t use a base coat, and it’s going to stain your cuticles.  But you’re young, you’ll learn how to do your nails without dyeing your skin at the same time.  Unless ‘necrosis’ is the look you’re going for.  In that case, you’ve got a lead on the competition.

“Anyway, you’re nothing new, and you’re something valid, and no one gets to tell you who or what or why you are except for you.  All those choices are yours to make, all those futures belong to you, and I’m just the lucky god who gets to guide you along the way.

“My pronouns?  Kid, I’ll take any pronouns you’ve got.  I keep ‘em in a bucket in the back.  Some of them can get kinda frisky sometimes, but they’re all good.  If you need new ones, you can fish ‘em out of the bucket.

“Oh, which ones am I currently using?  I find that ‘divine/divinity’ works pretty well for me.  If that’s too much of a mouthful, you can use my name—River—or ‘they/them’ is almost never entirely wrong.  But really, anything’s good by me.

“I am the god of the changing and the questioning, the malleable and the multiple, the ones who don’t conform, and the ones who won’t, or can’t.  I belong to all of them, all of you, and I will keep you as safe as I can.  It’s not easy.

“Nothing important ever is.

“So you found the bar.  That’s the first step.  Now here’s the question of the hour: what are your pronouns?  Speak, and we can know each other better.”