#best welding school

[pttedu]

Welding Job Search In The US: How To Boost Your Job Search

Discover practical strategies to enhance your welding job search in the US. From certifications to networking, unlock valuable tips for success in the welding industry.

[pttiedu]

PTTI's Welding Program transforms students into skilled welding wizards. Through precision techniques, trainees mold steel into intricate designs. Welding sparks illuminate their dedication, forging a path to a future where they craft masterpieces from molten metal. At PTTI, they sculpt their dreams in metal.

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ TREAT YOU BETTER!

♰ featuring: sae itoshi + rin itoshi (mentioned) [blue lock]

♰ note: this one is a DOOSY and i'm not even kidding when i say it took me 9 hours and 45 minutes to complete this, over the course of two days of course. However, as my first time ever writing on tumblr, i decided to go all out! that being said, it would mean a lot to me if you would support this work by reading, liking, and reblogging!

sypnosis: why be with his lukewarm little brother when you could be with him instead? wc: 6.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. fem/fem-bodied reader. POST BLUE LOCK. sibling rivalry. implied thick/chubby!reader. sae is mean. jealous!sae. bully!sae. rin is 19. sae is 21. CHEATING. degradation. unprotected sex. fingering. squirting. rough sex. DUBIOUS CONTENT. spanking. dacryphilia. slut shaming. groping. implied size kink. minor angst. hair pulling. ONE face slap. pussy slapping.꒷꒦ view the second part here: part two.

Coming home for the holidays, birthdays, or other special occasions is somewhat of a family tradition that enables people to slow down and focus on spending quality time with loved ones. These kinds of celebrations give families that may otherwise be estranged from one another due to work or geography the chance to reunite and enjoy each other's company. And this reasoning was no different in the Itoshi household. What was the occasion for this month’s gathering? Well, it was Mama Itoshi’s birthday, of course!

You see, you have known Rin and Sae Itoshi since you were all very young. Your mothers were best friends, and by default, that meant that you three would become close as well.

Growing up with the Itoshi brothers, on the other hand, was . . . interesting, to say the least. Where Rin found your presence to be refreshing, Sae found you to be a nuisance. You didn’t care for football; you got in the way of his practice; and you were a girl. He always thought you were too weak to play with, and he didn’t hesitate to make his feelings known to you. Pulling your hair until you screamed, pushing you around when you weren’t even in his way, and calling you mean names until your little E/C eyes welded up with fat tears were just some of the things he would do to torment you. Had it not been for little Rinnie stepping in and protecting you from his brother’s outright bullying, Sae most likely would’ve continued until you cried to your mom about how mean Sae-chan was to you. But you would never do that. Your little crush on him would never allow you to get him into trouble.

Nii-chan! Don’t be too mean to Y/N. You’ll make her inner crybaby come out!

When Sae was especially cruel to you, Rin was always there to lift your spirits. He would tell you not to worry about his "meanie Nii-chan," take your hand and wipe your tears and snotty face, and lead you up to his room where you two could watch movies and play action figures away from his brother's taunts. Even if he could not take you away right away, for instance, if you three were at the park, he would always come and ride the swings or the big slides with you just to make you happy. Despite Sae’s every protest about how you were nothing more than a distraction to him, Rin, and football, you knew that your friendship was sincere and unbreakable.

As you three went through the ups and downs of childhood, you also weathered the storms of adolescence together. Sae left for Madrid, leaving you, Rin, and your previous feelings for his older brother behind to navigate the social awkwardness of junior high and share in each other's accomplishments while he was with his football team and you were at your respective clubs. Your friendship was a source of strength during those formative years, providing solace and understanding when the world seemed confusing.

As you two approached your high school years, something began to change. Accidental touches felt more like fleeting sparks, while innocent glances became lingering stares. Neither of you fully comprehended your newfound feelings, tiptoeing around the unsaid emotions that seemed to glimmer between the two of you until the day Rin asked you to be his just before entering Blue Lock. Now, for the past three years, you have been a happy couple, embarking on the dreaded hell of adulthood and the next chapter of your lives hand-in-hand.

Back in the present, the two of you were glad that Rin finally had some downtime from soccer—well . . . more so you than him. Even after the events of Blue Lock, he and Sae remained rivals, seizing any opportunity they could to humiliate each other on the field. That being said, Rin was almost always in the gym, meditating, doing yoga, or practicing his skills to pass the time. It was nice to be able to spend time together without the stress of his next upcoming game or press conference.

Because it was his mother's birthday weekend and all, she would, of course, invite her boys to come to stay with her and their father for the occasion, which included you too since you were Rin’s girlfriend. However, in the few days that you and Rin have already been at his childhood home, Sae had yet to arrive, and no one had heard from him since he texted his mother that he was on his way to the airport to depart. Regardless, the family was busy finalizing plans for their mother's big day. Mr. Itoshi was at the bakery finalizing the details for his wife's cake, Mrs. Itoshi was out for brunch with your mother, and Rin had gone for an afternoon jog because "staying cooped up all day will turn him into a lukewarm lard ass," in his words. As for you? You had just begun to rise, completing some housework in one of Rin’s old jerseys and washing the dishes on which you and Rin had just eaten a delicious breakfast.

After completing your tasks, you made your way back up the lavish stairs of their home with every intention of going back into Rin’s childhood room that you two were sharing for the weekend when you froze. Your gaze traveled to the opposite end of the hallway, to the closed door whose presence loomed in the distance—Sae’s room.

Memories from your childhood flashed back to you, of you watching him and Rin play all too violent and scary zombie video games, rewatching his matches, and, most begrudgingly, the numerous times he nudged your head with his foot and tousled your perfectly styled hair just to get a rise out of you.

Cringing internally at the past memories, you took a further step in the direction of Rin's room before hesitating once more.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek inside Sae’s room, would it?

Despite your better judgment, you shuffled over the closed door and paused with your slender digits loosely encircling the handle. Your stomach churned and your heart thumped in your chest as your inner voice warned you not to enter another person's private space without their consent. But hold on—why were you getting anxious? Who was going to catch you when no one was at home? Turning the knob gently, the heavy oak door would give way with the tiniest of creaks, revealing a rather uninteresting-looking room. But given that Sae had rarely if ever, been home since junior high, it only made sense for it to be so plain. Aside from the plethora of trophies, medals, certificates, and framed photos that lined his dresser, what made it even more amusing was that those were only the leftovers from what could not fit in his trophy case beside his wooden dresser, which housed some of his youth team jerseys and junior trinkets.

You crept further into the cold room, wrapping your arms around yourself, and shuffled over to the plethora of awards from Sae's tireless efforts. As much as you weren’t fond of him, you had to admit that it was beyond admirable that a child was able to accomplish so much in so little time. He possessed a natural talent that professionals would kill for and others were envious of. Even though you were never interested in the sport, you envied him for being so naturally gifted at something he was passionate about.

“Some ‘monster genius’, huh?” You scoffed to yourself as your gaze fell on the last photo of Sae and Rin playing on the same team together before their relationship fell apart. Oh, how you miss those good old days of your youth.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

Coming from behind you, an all too familiar voice startled you out of your reverie. Turning around, your wide eyes came to rest on Sae's form, which was motionless in the doorway, his stoic visage forever unamused, and his overnight shoulder bag resting by his feet.

When did he come in?

More notably, he’s . . . changed from the last time you’ve seen him since the U-20 vs. Blue Lock game three years ago. He was a bit taller, probably around 6’2” now. Because he was wearing a long-sleeved white compression shirt and gray sweatpants, you were able to see that his muscles were more defined than before, with every ridge and curve pronounced more vividly. His maroon locks had grown a bit longer, with his fringes now reaching slightly beyond his chiseled, clenched jaw, though his bangs remained forever lopsided and flipped back. And his turquoise eyes—had they gotten even sharper since the last time you'd seen them? The way they were glowering down at you, it was almost as though they were piercing right through your very soul.

“You deaf or something, you half-brained moron?”

Your eyes rolled exasperatedly into the back of your head as he rudely interrupted your thoughts. Only ten seconds after you reconnected, here he was spewing insults your way.

“Nice to see you too, Sae.” You grumbled sarcastically, internally dreading what this weekend would hold in store for the both of you.

In response, he hummed, remaining motionless in the doorway as his teal eyes bore into you with something unknown. The truth is, while you were distracted by his physical appearance, he was ogling you in the same manner. You had grown since the last time he’d seen you when you were back in high school. Your once innocent eyes now had a glint in them that could only be described as nubile; your once round cheeks had slimmed a bit to fit your maturing features; and your body . . . Damn, have you really grown over the years. You had developed a more feminine frame, with fuller thighs, widened hips, larger breasts, and a more prominent ass. You had developed into a truly breathtaking young woman, despite how much he hated to admit it.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show at all.” You sighed, lazily checking your nails. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I live here.” His voice was deadpan and monotone, yet it held an underlying hint of irritation. “All these years have passed since grade school, and you’re still as braindead as when you were a child.”

“And you’re just as much of an asshole as you used to be.”

You resisted the urge to sneer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he was getting under your skin, as you dropped your arms to your sides. When you made this motion, his brows would furrow, and he would cast a scrutinizing glare at your choice of clothing.

Talking to him was futile, and you did not want to be in this room any longer than necessary now that he was there. “Good to have you home, genius.” You spat sarcastically, attempting to push past him to exit the room, when all of a sudden his large hand would seize your bicep, halting your steps.

Your head snapped to him, your gaze a mixture of frustration and confusion as your lips parted to shout a rebuttal his way; however, upon seeing the blazing fire that had ignited in his eyes, you hesitated. His eyes narrowed to thin slits, like two fiery coals burning fiercely within his sockets. The intensity of his gaze was enough to send shivers down your spine, making you acutely aware of the gravity of his sudden wrath. His jaw clenched tightly, showing the strain of controlling his rage, and his brows furrowed, forming a menacing V-shape above his oculars.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He seethed through clenched teeth, his voice deep and full of poorly contained malice.

You blinked. Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him, beyond perplexed. He had caught you so off guard that even you had to check what you were wearing to make sure you were not wearing anything objectionable. Nothing worth offending—fuzzy black pajama shorts that hugged your plush thighs, plain slippers, Rin's worn-out football jersey.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you coy little slut.”

That silenced you effectively. Your eyes enlarged—almost lamblike—and your pretty lips drew in a subtle gasp. Any previous spark that had been ignited within you had quickly diminished, choosing silence over tossing more gasoline onto Sae’s roaring flames.

It appeared as though his entire being was directing his wrath into his single, piercing gaze as every muscle in his face tightened with each passing second. His lips, which are typically flat or curved into an unamused frown, were now deep-set, corners tugging into an awful scowl.

“Why are you wearing that lukewarm loser’s jersey?” When you should be wearing mine?

Now it was your turn to be infuriated as he insulted your boyfriend—his brother—the same person he had thrown out like garbage all those years earlier. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could hear your blood pumping in your ears.

“So I’m not allowed to wear my own boyfriend’s jersey now, fuckface?” His gaze faltered. “You going to call me names for that too, Sae? Pull my hair? Spit in my face? Huh?”

“*What did you just say?”

“I said are you going to—”

“No, you cow-titted bimbo. The first thing you said.” He leaned in closer to your face, his eyes owlish and unblinking since you opened your mouth. You could smell his minty breath from the gum he had been chewing wafting into your face, “Say it again.”

“I’m not allowed to wear my boyfriend’s jersey?” You repeated, confusion etching your tone.

“That.” He snarled, his voice elated in a sick way, as though he had just found out the answer to some legendary riddle.

The hand that had been gripping your bicep now violently jerked you to the side, shoving you into his door. Before you had time to react, he crowded your personal space as his forearm pressed against the wood above your head, allowing you to smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne. “When did that happen?”

The initial fire that fueled his rage now transformed into a different kind of heat, a simmering and bitter envy that gnawed at his insides. He found himself grappling with conflicting emotions - on the one hand, he was somewhat happy that his blockhead of a brother managed to get a girlfriend, but on the other hand, it was you. The same girl that he had been pining over since you were first introduced to him all those years ago. The same girl that he thought was prettiest when she pouted at him with fat tears in her eyes and pleaded with him to be nicer to her. The same girl that consumed his thoughts 24/7. The same girl that he jerked his cock to at night after seeing how her fat tits in that all too small jersey bounced every time she cheered for his brother at that stupid game against Blue Lock. The same girl that, on all of those lonely nights overseas, he wished that, instead of fucking his fist, he was pummeling himself deep in your sopping wet cunt. The same girl that he was about to ruin before his brother got home from his whereabouts.

“Before Blue Lock . . .” Your voice was hushed, barely above a whisper, as though you were afraid of awakening a savage beast.

Three years. Three fucking years, and no one told him?! Not his mother, not his father, not Rin, not your stupid little social media (that he may or may not have been stalking) where you posted pictures of cats, candid photos of your friends, or whatever the fuck you got at your local coffee shop that day—not even you.

His once-obvious fury and visceral expression subsided, simmering beneath the surface in a contained inferno that burned with a ferocity few could fathom. Despite the turmoil raging inside him, he remained eerily calm, his stoic facade masking the storm within.

His demeanor exuded a cold, steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine and, quite frankly, took your breath away. There was an ominous sense of stillness in his presence, as if the air itself dared not disturb the calmness he projected.

“. . . Do you love him?” He spoke in hushed tones, each word enunciated with precision and purpose. There was no need for loud outbursts; the intensity of his calmness alone was enough to make you cower beneath him.

You were dumbfounded by his question, powerless to respond, and yet the longer you remained silent, the more you could see the cracks in his facade begin to scorch through his surface.

“D-Don’t be stupid, Sae. Of course I do, he’s my—”

You would never be able to finish your statement quick enough before his hands were on you, meaty palms digging into your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp as he grabbed a visceral hold onto your roots. The searing pain and astonishment coursing through your frame had you shrieking—in what? You didn’t know. Fear? Agony? Guilt?

Using his grip on you as a lead, he would tug you forcefully out of your slippers and down the hall to somewhere unknown. He ignored your screams as the weight atop your head forced your sight to the ground, your manicured nails digging into his wrist and clawing in an attempt to be freed.

“S-Sae, I-I’m sorry! Please, let me go! You’re hurting me!”

He said nothing, his heavy and deliberate footsteps speaking for him before he paused a short distance later. He threw you forward carelessly with surprising strength, causing you to land painfully on the wooden floors in front of you, barely having time to brace yourself with your palms. You had no time to catch your breath, though, as he shuffled over to you with fast-paced footsteps. Looking up fretfully, you would see Sae towering over you, taking notice that you were now on the floor of Rin’s room just before his bed.

“Sae—”

“Sae! Sae! Don’t be stupid; I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He openly mocked you, his lip curled into the faintest of sneers as he glowered down at you in hatred. Although even you could see that there was a bit of hurt behind his cruel teal eyes, “All you do is flap those pretty fuckin’ lips of yours, never knowin’ when to shut your stupid little trap.”

He relished in the way your bottom lip trembled and your eyes grew glassy, the same way they used to all those years ago.

“Still a little crybaby too, I see. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be sorry soon enough for leading me on all this time.” He grumbled, lunging for you again.

He snagged at your roots again, drawing a sob from your lips as he mercilessly dragged you to your feet. Releasing his grip on your hair, he instead chose to grab your jaw harshly in his palm, using his thumb and forefinger to squish your cheeks and pucker your lips so that he may smash his lips against your own. It was messy, sloppy, and full of passion and rage on Sae’s end. He smeared your gloss, claimed your brims, and forced his tongue into your pretty, pliant mouth, all with the intention of claiming you and your maw for his own—but you would never let him.

You belong to Rin! You were loyal to him! So then, why do Sae’s lips feel so damn good against your own right now? This was wrong. So, so wrong, and yet, why did you want more of him?

Your mind was cloudy. Your head was spinning. You couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating you. Your dainty fists beat at his beefy chest and shoulders, trying to get him to get off of you, but to no avail. Instead, he seized both of your wrists in the grasp of his other hand and squeezed painfully in a warning, forcing you to whine against his lips—a delightful sound that went straight to his hardening bulge that he shamelessly pressed against you, grinding sinfully against your hips.

When he finally pulled away from you, you clearly appeared dazed. Your eyes were half-lidded and glassy, yet you were silently pleading for him to give you more. Your plump lips had swollen from his being pressed so forcefully against your own, and a singular strand of saliva still connected your lips to his own—one which he would sinfully lick away with a salacious swipe of his tongue.

The hand he used to grab your face gently shook your head back and forth, his sadistic turquoise hues savoring your already fucked-out expression. “There’s the greedy bitch I know and love. Finally decided to show yourself, huh? What? You want more, hm? What about your little boyfriend, princess?”

“R-Rin . . . I love, Ri—” You were cut off when Sae’s expression flared, his hand releasing your face for naught but seconds before connecting with your cheek in a hard slap. You squealed from the impact, your head whipping to the side in shock, but you could not help but feel strangely aroused by the contact. He grabbed your cheeks in his palm once more and tightened his hold on your face, bringing you closer to him until you were nose to nose.

“Don’t lie to me, you little minx.” He snarled as he cut his eyes at you. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at me after all these years, like you wanted me? Or that I haven’t overheard your stupid little conversations about how dreamy you think I am to your friends, huh? Or how about now, when you swear up and down that you love my loser little brother, when here you are already going stupid on me when I’ve barely even touched you?”

You clenched your eyes shut as hot, guilty tears rushed behind your lids. He’s right. You've wanted him—always have—but it was too late now. You were with Rin, and he was the love of your life. You could not possibly change that, could you?

“Just say it, Y/N.” He chided, his voice softer than it was before, yet it still held it’s cold, irritated undertone. “Say you want me, and I’ll make you feel better than that lukewarm little shit ever has.” He released your face and smoothed his thick digits over the top of your head, stopping only when he could rest his fingers beneath your chin and tilt your head to look up at him. Your gaze focused on him once more.

“ . . . I want you, Sae. B-But Rin . . . ”

Sae hushed you again, pressing his lips against yours. How badly he wanted that name to never again be uttered by your lovely tongue. When Sae pulled away again, there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“We’ll be quick, okay?” A lie. He was going to take his time fucking his brother’s name out of your memory. “He’ll never suspect a thing.”

Your apprehension was palpable, but ultimately you would succumb to sin and let desire and greed rule over logic and reason. You nodded, giving him the nonverbal go-ahead to stomp on the accelerator and never let up.

“Good girl.” He praised you, both hands abandoning your face to now grip at the collar of your shirt. In one swift motion, he ripped Rin’s jersey clean off of you from down the middle. “About time we got that shit off of you. The sight of it was makin’ me sick.” He spat as he tossed the tattered fabric over his shoulder.

You were not wearing a bra, so the violent motion had your breasts bouncing free after being momentarily released from their confines, allowing them to slap softly against the flesh of your rib cage—much to Sae’s viewing pleasure. You grew sheepish as he seemed to freeze, staring so brazenly at your bare breasts that you began to feel a bit self-conscious. Was something wrong? Did he not like them? Was he expecting more? Less?

In reality, the answer was none of the above. The midfielder swore under his breath as he shoved you back onto Rin's cozy comforter. He hastily climbed on top of you and used his body weight to pin you against the bed as his lustful hands began to grope and knead at your supple flesh, eliciting precious mewls with each delightful squeeze. His lips would latch onto one of your breasts as he dipped his head downward; the thumb and forefinger of his free hand would play with the other, teasing your nipples. His sharp teeth bit greedily over the delicate areola as his tongue flicked and laved over the hardening buds. The stimulation only served to heighten your arousal, as evidenced by the way you wailed his name like a sweet song meant only for his ears and how your thighs squeezed together from your excitement drooling from your folds.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Sae, who was busy alternating between pleasuring both of your breasts and growling under his breath, “Lewd fuckin’ body. S’all mine . . .” When he pulled away, there were visible marks left in his wake—light red splotches and indentations of hungry teeth imprinted on your skin.

He reached for the hem of his compression shirt and lifted it above his head, tossing it off to the side as he sat above you, staring lustfully down at you. He would manhandle you further after sliding off of your body. He pulled your shorts down in one motion, grabbed your thick thighs by the backs of your knees, and pushed them up towards your breasts. When he did, he couldn’t help but whistle, admiring how your puffy folds clung together and your inner thighs remained sticky from your translucent arousal.

“Has he ever made you wet like this?” Sae inquired, leering at you from between your thighs like a hungry lion with it’s eyes set predatorily on a helpless gazelle, to which your gaze would quickly avert. You and Rin had such a strong emotional bond that you never felt the need for frequent sex between you two. There were a few times, though, when Rin would fuck you after a winning game in a way that made you see stars, but those were always very far apart.

Your silence was all Sae needed for his answer. He crept back up onto you, chuckling sardonically as he held your thigh up with one hand, using his body to keep your other spread apart. He wanted to see all of your pretty expressions up close and personal when he ravished you. Swiping two of his fingers between your folds, the sudden motion caused your hips to jerk into his touch and you to keen with need.

Slowly, he inserted a single digit inside of you, hissing at how your walls selfishly gripped his fingers and eagerly tried to devour more of him. “Loosen up, will you, greedy slut?” He slapped your thigh with his other hand as your back arched with pleasure. “This tight pussy will never be able to take my cock at this rate.”

You tried to loosen up, you really did, but there was something so delicious—so tantilizing—about his thick, calloused fingers caressing your velvety walls that made you crave more of him. He continued to thrust his single digit inside of you, his teal oculars peering into your own with such intensity that it forced you to look away.

“Stop that.” His hand that grabbed the back of your knee slithered along your outer thigh until he could grasp your chin and force you to look back at him. “Eyes on me.” He ordered, to which you would nod dumbly amidst your pleasured mewls.

You felt the delightful stretch of another of his thick fingers pressing into your sopping cunt, thrusting in tandem with his previous one, as he leaned closer to you and his lips just barely touched your own.

“S-Sae, mmph, more, please, please, touch me more.” You begged, bringing a sinful smirk to the midfielder’s lips.

Unexpectedly, he would comply with your requests, pressing the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit and rubbing quick, pleasurable cricles with his fingers as he arduously sought out that sweet, sweet spot inside of you. You could not help but start sobbing his name, his thick fingers filling you to the brim even though he had yet to stuff his cock into you. Each time he curled upward inside of you, his impeccable skill had you gasping for reprieve.

It was nothing like Rin’s. His fingers were slightly thinner than his brother’s, but they were a tad longer too, able to reach the deepest spots within you without even trying. Sae's immense precision and experience, which allowed him to know exactly where your sweetest spots lay within you, made up for his lack of length.

“ . . . Are you seriously thinking about him right now?”

You were startled out of your reverie by his curious tone and thinly veiled anger. You tried to focus on his hardened features through your daze, but you couldn’t. The knot in your tummy tightened, and you felt an enormous wave of pleasure wash over you. Something big was coming, and you could feel it reverberating all throughout your core.

“He could never make you feel this good, could he? Never get this pretty cunt this wet for him, hm?” All throughout his monologue, you could hear the sinful squelching of your juices soaking his palm, dripping down his wrist, and splattering onto the floor. You were a mess beneath him. He would abuse that rough patch just along your upper walls until your toes clung to the sheets in ecstasy.

“M’sorry, m’sorry!” You mewled, breath coming out in short, high-pitched pants as you writhed under him, his pace increasing as he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Who’s making a mess of you right now? Huh? Speak up, princess; let me hear you say it.”

“—You, Sae! You, you, you! Hah, please, I-I can’t . . . ! I-I’m gonna—”

“Do it. Cum on my fuckin’ fingers. Make a mess for me, pretty.”

You did just that. Your body went rigid for naught but a second before your back was arched into him, and your head tossed itself back into the pillows as a chorus of unabashed wails of your release erupted from your pretty, drooling lips. Your release was immense—loud—as a gushing of juices from your pussy thoroughly drenched the sheets, Sae’s sweatpants, his abs, and his entire forearm.

You squirted. For him. For the first time ever.

It was uncharacteristic how an almost feral grin twisted on Sae’s lips, his fingers removing from your sopping cunt to place a few well-directed slaps on your far too sensitive and overstimulated pussy.

“Atta’ fuckin’ girl. Can’t believe my baby brother was keeping such a sweet little succubus all to himself—selfish bastard.”

You couldn’t even hear him; your chest was rising and falling heavily as tears of pleasure ran down your cheeks (and thighs).

“Hey, hey. You still with me?” His tone was soft, his typically impassive visage now meeting your own with furrowed eyebrows and a tinge of concern behind his bright hues.

You nodded—it was all you could muster at this moment, but it was good enough for Sae. He brought his soaking hand to your parted lips, lightly tapping the digits on your plump flesh in a silent command for you to clean him off. He chuckled. Your lithe tongue and eager brims slurped, licked, and sucked your mess off of his thick fingers that were now shoved down your throat without you even needing to be told what to do.

“You wanna do that again for me? On my cock this time, pretty?”

You were exhausted, your body already aching beneath him, but you still craved more from him. Another meek nod was given, your dazed eyes meeting his only to utter around his fingers, words garbled from his fingers on your tongue, “Wantha’ squirth’ awound ya cahwk.”

That was all Sae needed to hear as he stepped off of the bed, making quick work to discard his soaked sweatpants and boxers into the growing pile of clothes at the base of the bed. His large hands grabbed your soft hips, tugging you toward him with ease as he flipped you onto your hands and knees. He let out a growl, his hand raising to smack your plump ass once, then twice, on both of your cheeks before taking big, greedy handfuls of your flesh into his ravenous palms. This was undoubtedly already his favorite thing about you.

Standing by the edge of the bed, Sae placed your body horizontally across the mattress with your head facing the door. With a forceful push of your face down into the sheets, your view of the room instantly became obscured. You craned your neck back, peering at Sae from over the arch of your back as he grabbed one of your fat cheeks in one hand and used his other to line his cock up with your entrance. He slapped his heavy cock against your folds, his blossoming mushroom tip connecting with your throbbing clit making you both keen with ecstasy.

He couldn’t wait any more. He needed to be inside of you. He entered your drooling cunt with a single, calculated push, and your fluttering walls were already trying to devour more of him in response to the intrusion. Sae groaned as his hips met the flesh of your ass once he was buried to the hilt inside of you. His head lulled back as he dug his blunt nails into your flesh.

For the past three years, this—this right here is exactly what he had been craving, yearning over, and lusting for—and now he had it. He nearly came from the feeling inside of you alone, though; he’d be damned if he let the fun stop there.

A steady pace was quickly established by the midfielder's hips, and his long, deliberate strokes were deep enough to feel in your tummy and cause your toes to curl up in pleasure. Having had such a powerful orgasm not even minutes earlier, you were still fairly sensitive; however, that only made things all the more enjoyable.

“O-Oh my god, y-your cock, it’s t-too much, I-I can’t—”

“Don’t tell me you can’t, you cock-loving slut.” He snapped at you, cutting your pleas short with a sharp thrust of his hips. The rhythmic plapping of your ass against his pelvis resonated off the walls of the bedroom, lewdly ringing in your own ears. “This is everything I—we’ve—been wanting for years. Don’t tell me that now, all of a sudden—” He paused, groaning deeply through gritted teeth as you clenched around him. “—That this pretty pussy can’t take anymore when you’re gripping me so desperately.”

“B-But Sae, i-it feels too good! Like I’m . . . I’m gonna make a mess again!” You whined.

He thought it was adorable that even in the most deplorable and deprived of acts, you still attempted to hold some semblance of modesty. Oh, how you were both far past that.

If anything, that just fueled his aggression. He used your words as justification to pummel your poor pussy harder and faster, putting both of his hands on your hips and lower back and pressing his weight against you to force you into an almost painful arch as his pelvis slammed into your ass. Your vision went blurry from his unforgiving pace, and your throat went raw from your cries and screams of pleasure.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” He grunted in between thrusts, a hand raising to land a furious smack on your ass that caused you to mewl and your tiny fists to grip the sheets.

“Y-You, Sae! You are! Ngh, plea—”

“And who’s cock do you like better, huh, princess? Me or that lukewarm fuckface’s?”

You hesitated, but only for a millisecond, as you felt the blunt head of his cock caressing your sweet spot, pummeling into you over and over as your thighs began to shake, growing unable to hold yourself up from the stimulation. His thrusts faltered as his cock twitched inside of you. You figured he was close too.

“Yours, y-yours! Your cock feels so good, I-I’m gonna cum again! I’m ngh gonna cum all over your f-fuck-ing cock!”

He let out an almost animalistic groan, something between a chuckle and a feral snarl, “Yeah, princess? You really mean it?” He moved one of his hands to your hair, threading his fingers through it without yet pulling, almost as if he were waiting for your response.

Your response was almost instantaneous, and the adorable chorus of incoherent babbles and cries of "yes, yes, yes" left your head spinning. You had the sensation that you might pass out completely.

Your head was abruptly yanked out of the pillows, and your gaze was once again forced upward. Your eyes, albeit blurry and glassy, caught sight of the all-too-familiar figure standing in the doorway. Sweat dribbling from his forehead while dressed in a white windbreaker and sweatpants to protect himself from the elements during his jog, stood the one person who filled you with dread.

Rin.

He was back.

As your eyes locked onto the all-too-memorable teal ones boring into your own, your moans ceased. The logic and reason that you had previously dismissed for giving into your desires came flooding back. Guilt, which had been gnawing at the pit of your stomach, reared it’s ugly head once more.

He caught you.

With his brother.

The realization of your actions, the feeling of knowing that you hurt someone you cared deeply about and promised your life to, left you reeling. The enormity of the situation left you speechless and unable to respond.

As the shock slowly gave way to the depths of your despair, tears welled up in your eyes, this time of anguish. Your ability to control your emotions ran out, and you began to sob, letting the tears run down your cheeks. Each tear that ran free was weighed down by guilt and regret.

All the while, Sae never stopped thrusting behind you. Almost as if he remained unfazed by his brother’s—your boyfriend’s—sudden appearance.

“R-Rin—”

“—Save it.”

His initial shock, disbelief, and hurt gradually gave way to something else. He was angry, searing with anger as malice began to rise within him, a blaze of fury that threatened to consume him. Though he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at . . . Sae?

“You told me you would wait until I got back, Nii-chan.”

The air left your lungs.

. . . What?

Using the grip from your hair, Sae pulled you back into him, pressing your body flush against his own as he craned your neck back into an awkward angle, forcing your gaze to meet his own. A dark and unsettling satisfaction crept into his expression, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. His eyes sparkled with a perverse delight, reveling in the twisted pleasure he derived from your adorably bewildered and anguished expression.

Your breath hitched.

Your mind raced for answers.

Sae’s gaze lazily tore from your own and to Rin's, who still remained in the doorway, the forward’s eyes sinfully burning into the way your breasts bounced sinfully from each of Sae’s now slow, agonizing thrusts.

"You know, little brother, it is not too late to join in on the fun."

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

if this gets enough attention, i may make a part two!

[seat-safety-switch]

In a lot of foreign countries, they have this neat amusement park ride. It's called "train," and it consists of a bunch of boxes you sit in and it takes you up and down a track. I could ride train all day long, through the incredible views of places that aren't the suburban-bordering-on-industrial wasteland that I live in.

Unfortunately for me, visiting train often requires me to get on an airplane, which is a big cylinder that flies through the sky. Despite being arguably similar to a train, it costs a whole lot more and smells kind of funny the whole time. Just not worth it, which is why I have attempted to get train at home.

Now, my local politicians dislike train. Perhaps you live in a country where your politicians are accountable to you, which is a terrifying prospect if you are a useless child of privilege who wants to spend a couple years of your life making friends with billionaires instead of being asked frightening questions about basic arithmetic. That is not the case here, where politicians are born in some sort of special vat, receive their law degrees, and come up with ideas like "what if school is actually hurting children?" We do not have many points of agreement, mostly because they drive new cars. Sometimes, they make someone else drive their car for them, which is a concept demonstrating just how sick things have become in their pointy little Hapsburg heads.

To them, there is no room for the laugh-a-minute thrill ride that is train. There is nothing amusing about the business of laying down roads that they then poorly maintain, a hyperfixation that occupies approximately ninety-six percent of their emailing-and-yelling time. Personally, I think if they really actually liked driving so much, they would put a couple hairpin turns or at least a nice high-speed chicane on my nineteen-minute drive to the grocery store, but that's a rant for another time. The government was not going to give me a train, so I had to do it for myself.

The best part of a train is that you can put a bunch of cars together, but not all of those cars have to have running and driving engines! With just a handful of purloined U-Haul® trailer hitches and a very heavy right foot, I was soon escorting seven-car public transit through the middle of downtown. Sure, if you look closely, you might argue that a bunch of welded-together Oldsmobile Aleros are not exactly up to the comfort of futuristic European rail, but we're hoping to be able to upgrade to some kind of haggard Japanese minivans in the next couple quarters, once fare revenue increases from the current value of "zero dollars." In my defence, it's not as much fun to play train-driver-guy if you're constantly asking people for money.

[sorcerous-caress]

So fun fact about me irl I work with children but often my teacher language slips out like telling my friends to say “bye bye bus”, telling another person in my lecture writing to “be nice to the pencil, it’s your friend.” And greeting a roomful of grown as adults with good morning boys and girls. It’s mortifying but How do you think the companions would react to having a teacher!tav slip up like that.

Dealing with a Teacher Tav

[Bg3, fluff, platonic kinda, nb!reader]

[Gale, Shadowheart, Laezel, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc]

Gale

He delightfully plays along whenever you tell him to thank a stranger or say goodbye to an inanimate object. He thinks it's very silly and joyous.

Teachers have always been a big part of his life, it doesn't phase him in the slightest when you unawarly awake the deep memories of being in wizards pre-school for him.

Says good morning to you back, adding a teacher honorific at the end for the sake of being playful while asking if you've finally graded the homework he handed in.

He gives you an apple occasionally. He thinks he is very hilarious.

Shadowheart

She freezes in awkwardness whenever it happens, not sure if you’re being serious or just playing around. Sometimes, you don't even register slipping up as go on with your day, leaving her wondering if she's imagining things.

She has zero experience with the school system, completely confused by the need to say thank you for carriage after it arrived. It's just a carriage, why should she?

One time while her and Laezel were arguing, you used the same call you'd use in the classroom to get the kids to quiet down and it completely caught them both off guard. They just stood there baffled, forgetting their original argument.

Laezel

Why, yes, she is very familiar with teachers. In fact, she was the best out of her class, ask any githyanki teacher, and they'd tell you endless praise about her throat cutting techniques and sword welding stances.

You, whoever, use very unusual teaching techniques. How would learning a song about washing your hand and brushing your teeth help her in slaying her enemies?

Intriguing, so you take advantage of the brain's tendency to latch on to phrases that rhyme, which makes them easier to remember? And you encode your melodies with instructions to embed them into the impressionable youth?

Huh. She actually is impressed. She made her decision, you will lend your teaching skills to help her embed the most effect way of fracturing someone's spine into a melody to spread to the githyanki children.

Wyll

As someone who has been an unofficial teacher for so many kids throughout his years, he can relate to your struggle a lot. He slips up more than he cares to admit.

The both of you meeting early in the morning while still groggy and tired, your brains working on automatic mods as you greet each other with the same high pitched enthusiastic voice you use to greet a toddler.

Then just stare at each other, complete understanding between the two of you. Like two people accidentally using their customer service voice in front of the other.

You struggle to tie your boots once, and he unconsciously bends down to tie them for you while using the rabbit loop euphemism, only to stop in his tracks as he realises what he's doing.

He uses a curse word once, and you immediately use your teachers voice and say, "we don't speak like that here, that's wasn't very nice."

You're both tired, you both need a nap and neither of you brings it up when the other slips.

Karlach

Much like Gale, she finds it extremely amusing. Top tier comedy to her. Unlike Gale, she hasn't been to any proper schooling system, so she doesn't exactly know what most of these phrases mean or imply.

In a way, it lets her pretend she was a part of something like a school in her youth, like she could've had a normal childhood like everyone else.

She'd indulge you, saying goodbye and thank you to the pigeon that delivered her a letter, or overhearing Wyll's rabbit loop ryhme and whispering it under her breath as she ties her own boots. Who knew this could've been so easy?

Astarion

You remind him of how Leon was with his daughter back in Cazador's manor. Astarion never was close with any of them, but still, he sometimes overheard him attempting to give his daughter a semblance of a normal childhood and growth.

It's endearing when you accidentally use your teaching ways while dealing with the owlbear cub, but he'll never admit it.

Doesn't indulge you with it, he has appearance to keep. Well, unless he has a chance to twist your innocent meaning words into a sex or gorey joke like the 12y old humour that he has.

Ah, the scrowl on your face is the exact same one Leon had around him, such fond memories.

Halsin

Ah, you bring him back to his old days of having to deal with the children at the grove. Although his methods focused more on showing them that nature is a friend rather than inanimate objects.

But who is he to judge your ways? If anything he could learn a thing or two from you to add to his skillset.

Tells you about the fables that were passed down from elf to elf throughout the generations, animal stories have always done a great part in teaching him morality.

Do you happen to have any? Maybe you could tell it to the children of the grove, they are good kids.

Minthara

As a noble, she was only given the best and most prestigious of teachers while growing up. Even the ones that weren't a drow would still be considered the best of the best, crème de la crème.

Yet not a single one of them applied such...childish methods. etiquette and discipline were taught by the lash and threat of punishment, not lullabies and gentle guidance.

....it's not as bad as she imagined.

She doesn't get why some of your companions find it amusing. She doesn't bother indulging either.

But sometimes, sometimes, when it's just the two of you, and she is sure not a single soul is around, she will reply with a pun with the most deadpan face expression you've seen.

Jaheira

Despite what most would think, she actually integrated the same methods into her teachings back when her kids were little, it just happened to be weaved with her more dangerous lifestyle ascept.

Here comes the plane, with the airplane usual holding a good dosage amount of poison to build resistance.

A short rhyme about what to check before leaving the house, except the list has a suspicious amount of daggers and trap disarm kits in it.

If it works, it works, so what if she had to alter a kid's book about a honey loving yellow bear into one with decipherable texts to teach them Harpers' secret communication language.

Minsc

Ah! Boo does use the same method on him sometimes, the two of you have a lot in common. Although Boo's methods do involve a bit of biting every now and then.

Say, how about he teaches you some fables from Rashemen, a lot of them are about a rabbit who got lost after not listening to his witch frog companion.

You could use it in your teachings later! Show the youth the importance of good teamwork. Yes, he is aware of the fact he didn't listen to Jaheira and got captured by the cult. No, he doesn't see why this is relevant? Why is Boo suddenly agreeing with you? He is supposed to be on his side.

[diamond-champagne]

10. I Love You

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: None

Summary: In which things are figured out and confessed.

A/N: Shoutout to 🌟 for holding me accountable! Feedback is always welcome!

The smallest words are the most powerful. They often have the most impact. Intense and large emotions and experiences welded into a string of four letters. Hate. Love. Lust. Fate.

Fate. The development of events beyond a person’s control. The idea of it is entirely funny because honestly, how could it not be? 

Or at least, that’s what Azzi thinks.

She sits at her dining room table with her family, surrounded by Katie, Tim, Jon, Jose and Paige. The blonde girl that makes her laugh at that silly four letter word. 

How could it be that fate is beyond a person’s control? Azzi felt in control when she talked to Paige the entire plane ride back to Minneasota when they were younger. She felt in control when she answered every facetime call after said plane ride. She even felt in control when she shared a constant space with the girl after the pandemic. So the thought of this possibly not being in her control is laughable. However she only thinks of the word because it’s the only one that describes how perfectly Paige just fits. She has her own seat at the dinner table and her name is on the abandoned chore chart on the refrigerator. Paige is factored into movie nights, dinners, and holidays. Almost like it she was fated to be there and Azzi can only marvel at how easy it was for this to be a new normal. 

Beneath her ability to take that word seriously, Azzi feels warm and fuzzy. She is overcome with a sense of familiarity and softness that only seems to appear when a particular pair of blue eyes and a head full of blonde hair appear. So she revels in it. 

At least, that’s what she’s trying to do before she hears a throat clear. Quite loudly. 

“Are you listening to me?” Tim asks.

Suddenly Azzi realizes that there are several pairs of eyes on her. It makes her flush and muster an apologetic look. 

“Yeah, dad. Be up at 8am. Got it”

That seems to satisfy the table as the majority return their focus back to Tim as he gives a detailed description of their itinerary for the following morning. Tomorrow, the Fudds are hosting a camp for the elementary schools in the area. It’s something that they partake in monthly, helping the younger children grow their skills. So while you’d never know it from the way her dad is animatedly talking, Azzi knows the routine.  

She looks down at her plate, still full of the vegetables that she’s pushed around for the last thirty minutes. Azzi can feel Paige’s eyes on her. When she looks up, she’s met with deep pools of blue filled with concern.

“Are you okay, Az?” Paige asks. Her voice was laced with sincerity. 

“I’m fine.” Azzi replies surely while never breaking eye contact. The pair continue to stare at each other. Emotions swim in both of their eyes that are begging to be voiced into the world. It feels like forever and not long enough that they continue their staring contest before Jon breaks the moment between them to mention some tik tok video that he saw earlier that day. 

The rest of dinner is smooth but Azzi is antsy. She needs to talk to Paige immediately so she takes her shower and gets settled into bed while she waits for her best friend while rehearsing what she could possibly say. Immediately she thinks back to when it all made sense to her. 

-

Azzi thinks it’s been a long two weeks.

Actually, Azzi knows it's been a long two weeks because she hasn’t stopped thinking about the kiss in the bar bathroom.

It’s not that the two haven’t kissed before because well, they’ve had more than their fair share. This kiss though, was under the premise of something much larger than a secret night between the two. It was laced with the feeling of forever and provided such a high that they both wanted to chase for the end of time. Azzi wanted to chase Paige until the end of time. 

So, it’s been a long two weeks and she’s impatient. Azzi also wants to cuddle. 

She’s tired and all she wants to do is hug her best friend and bury her face in a head full of blonde hair. That’s why she flops on her bed as she lets out a groan that probably echoes through the stratosphere.

Well that and the fact that someone is knocking on her door. The brown haired girl pushes herself up and makes her way to the front door. She’s prepared to fully be an unwelcoming host; choosing to greet whoever with an eye roll and a voice that drips in annoyance but it’s her favorite pair of blue eyes on the other side of the door. 

“Hi,” Paige says. It’s a bit quiet and shy but it sounds perfect to Azzi. 

“H-Hi” the brown eyed girl stutters. She wants to ask what Paige is doing but her attention has been redirected to the bags in the blonde’s hands. It only confuses her more when she looks up and is met with a sheepish look on her best friend’s face.

“I missed you,” Paige blurts out before explaining further. “I thought maybe we could hang out because we’re still friends. We’ll always be best friends.”

“I miss you too,” Azzi confesses. “I always miss you.”

Azzi can feel herself smile at the words. It sends her heart soaring in ways she could have only imagined. She thinks this is what love songs must feel like. But then she watches Paige smile and she thinks it’s something she could watch for the rest of her life. But Azzi isn’t sure what to say. She isn’t sure that the words to explain what she feels for the older girl have been invented yet. So instead, she grabs the wrist of her blonde-haired forever and drags her into the kitchen.

As the brown-haired girl unpacks the bags, she discovers ice cream and her chipotle order. In the other bag, sits a hardcopy of “The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo” which she vaguely recalls talking about.

The gesture is small but moving. It’s what makes everything click.

Azzi can feel tears well up in her eyes so she’s quick to wipe them before hugging Paige. She can only hope that she’s able to feel the gratitude that rolls off of the curly-haired girl in waves. But it’s Paige so of course she feels it and of course she pulls Azzi closer to hug her tighter.

They aren’t sure how long they stand in the kitchen, simply enjoying each other’s embrace. But the sound of stomachs grumbling disturbed the moment and resulted in giggles from each of the basketball players. Soon, they’re sitting on the couch, while watching Frozen.

The empty chipotle bowls sit on the counter along with the ice cream that is surely forgotten about by now. That much doesn’t matter though because Azzi is laying on the couch with Paige in her arms. She isn’t paying attention to the movie though because all she can do is focus on the blonde on top of her and how happy she is at this very moment. 

It’s that thought that segways into feeling like this everyday. This being a light, giddy feeling that casts a protective bubble over the two whenever they share a space together. The feeling that has since replaced the fear that once left her helpless and unmoving.

Azzi thinks she can get used to Paige loving her. It’s like a warm blanket that feels like home. Her eyes are soft and her Azzi smile is a permanent fixture on her beautiful face. The brown-haired girl thinks about all the ways they can be more intertwined than they already are. She thinks about seeing her stuff in the bathroom and moving clothes into each other’s closet. The younger girl imagines mini bottles of gatorade next to her water in the refrigerator. She imagines blonde strands of hair tickling her while she’s sleeping and never having any sense of personal space because Paige is a 6’0 baby. 

At the same time, she imagines not having any of it. That feeling of discontentment that had once wormed its way into her heart is back. It’s a bitter and heavy feeling that makes Azzi shift in discomfort. That terrifies her and suddenly she realizes that not having Paige is scarier than anything she could possibly imagine. Maybe the thought of losing Paige is what paralyzingly scarred her. 

Though as she lays on the couch, on the brink of sleep, she thinks of how fate brought them together from miles away. She thinks being scared means that this is something worth having. 

Paige is worth having. 

-

Azzi is broken from her daydream by the sound of her door knob rattling. Paige is in her room dressed in an old shirt and shorts with hair that is still dripping wet from her shower. The blonde stands in front of the mirror while she begins to brush her hair and all the younger girl can do is watch. It takes a bit for her staring to capture Paige’s attention but when it does, the blue-eyed girl immediately turns to her friend. 

“What’s wrong?”

The brown-eyed girl feels like a fish out of water. A wave of emotion engulfs her and it’s too much but not enough all at the same time. There’s love and longing and admiration that swim so deep in her heart and mind that she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind before she even realizes it. 

“I love you.”

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[ptolemaeacles]

♡ being hazel callahan’s cheerleader gf hcs

pairing: hazel callahan x cheerleader!reader

synopsis: what it’s like dating hazel (post huntington fight)

notes: unofficial part two to this !! if you guys have anything to add, feel free to hop into my inbox or comment, i love interacting with you guys !!

word count: 1k

after the huntington fight, she finally took you out on a date. she completely wracked her brain for days trying to find the best place to take you.

most likely, asked josie where she would take isabel since the four of you seemed to be parallels of each other (nerdy, loser lesbian and her super hot, preppy gf)

going back to the first date though, i would imagine she took you to an arcade or maybe a diner (like josie and isabel were at). and of course she shyly asked you if that’s what you wanted.

hazel and you were sat in your english, making usual conversation since the both of you had finished your work. hazel realized it was probably a good time to ask you about that date.

“so i wanted to ask you, um, about the date. i know it’s been a few days and i’ve been planning it but what do you think about the diner? you know, after school, you can pick the day if you’d like, or if you changed your mind, we can just not go at all, it depends on you-”

“haze,” you stopped her with a soft smile and putting your hand on top of hers, “i’d love to go to a diner. that’s perfect. and tomorrow is good with me if it’s good with you!”

hazel sheepishly smiled back at you.

“yeah, it’s good with me.” she murmured.

after the third or fourth date, she wanted to pop the “will you be my girlfriend” speech badly. she wanted it to be romantic but not cheesy, heartfelt but not corny, cute but not cliche. god she was over thinking this like a motherfucker.

and to her surprise, you popped the question before her.

hazel was lounging on the loveseat in the corner of your room while you were sitting cross legged on your bed. the both of you had decided to study at your house after school. (not much studying was done so far. often getting distracted by making out with each other. so much so, the two of you had realized that nearly an hour had passed which resulted in hazel moving to the loveseat so the two of you could get some actual studying done.)

“so did you divide both sides by 6 or by 4? i don’t get that part.” hazel lifted her gaze from her notebook to you, who was already looking at her.

you decided to just blurt it out.

“haze,” she hummed in response, “do you want to be my girlfriend?”

hazel felt her mouth go dry. she really did want to be the one to ask you but it was so much hotter that you asked her.

“yeah, uh, yes, fuck, i’d love to.” she exclaimed.

now onto the actual BEING hazel’s gf (i love to over explain things, sorry)

hazel’s love language is definitely physical touch or gifting-giving. not super into pda but will put her arm around your shoulders or a hand on your lower back when you’re walking. if she’s feeling risqué, then an arm around your waist.

no matter how long you guys have been dating, she still gets nervous around you. doesn’t matter if you woke up with horrid morning breath, messy bed head, and/or a puffy face, she’d still look at you starstruck, as if you held the entire world in your palms. she’s a hopeless woman in love.

she does have a lot of money (probably one of those kids who refuses to say she’s rich, she calls herself “comfortable” …..) but she loves to make gifts for you. i can see her being into welding or wood workshop. (not sure if all schools have these types of classes, i’m american soooo)

100% makes wooden sculptures or welding a ring with the both of your initials on the inside. she made a wooden sculpture of the two of you holding hands (you nearly cried when she gave it to you)

very big music lover. listens to divorced dad rock. pearl jam, metallica, nirvana, etc. probably a minor swiftie (really obsessed with folklore and evermore but not a big fan of her other albums) definitely listens to boygenius (she listens to ‘leonard cohen’ and thinks of you). likes r&b/rap from time to time. (frank ocean, mac miller, a bit of tyler the creator.) oh and some 80s r&b like sade. her playlist is very diverse to say the least.

not really a gf headcanon but she’s definitely got some irregular allergies. strawberries, i would say. walnuts too.

PLAYS GUITAR. both acoustic and electric, she's interested in drums too and she tried learning how to play but it was too loud for her so she quit. writes songs for you but you would never get her to perform them or even show you in a million years.

LOVESSSSSS to nap and cuddle with you. a lot of the time, she invites you to her house under the guise of “studying”. you’ll be grabbing your backpack ready to pull out your english homework and she’s grabbing her blanket and asking you to just lay in her bed with her for “5 minutes”. you guys end up falling asleep (exactly like she planned) and wasted 2 hours. it was worth it.

“okay so i think we should start with our english homework because we need to brainstorm for the ess-“ you opened your bag, ready to study with your girlfriend.

“we can do that later, babe,” hazel grabbed your bag and set it on the ground, “aren’t you tired? i mean you walked all around campus, which is huge, might i add-“

“not really-“

“doesn’t matter. we should lay down and rest a bit so we can have clear minds, and we’ll be ready to study.” hazel had already kicked off her shoes and crawled into her bed, lifting her blanket and silently asking you to lay down with her.

“only a few minutes, okay, and then we have to get to work.” you breathily chuckeld, not impressed with your girlfriend’s antics.

hazel giggled and ushered you under her blanket, wrapping her arm tightly around your waist and tucking your head in the crook of her neck.

you knew what her plan was but she was too cute to say no to.

[luvyeni]

10 DAYS TO FALL IN LOVE — chapter 6. dates and apologies !

word count. 0.8k+ content warning. none just angst and fluff

You clutched the stuffed animal in your hand that heeseung had won for you as you walked through the park per his request. “You’re really happy about that stuffed toy.” He said. “Be careful people might think you’re crazy and on a date with that thing instead of me.” You rolled your eyes pouting. “don’t call my child a thing, he has a name.” You said, the boy laughed. “yeah, what is it?” you thought for a while, before shrugging. “well I won him, why can’t he be named after me?”

You shook your head no, smirking menacingly, looking back at him. “I like the name sunghoon.” His face dropped. “That’s not funny.” He said flatly. “It’s a little funny.” You said. “not even remotely.” He tried to walk a head of you. “yah! Don’t leave me.”

“Stop walking so fast.” You grabbed his arm. “say your sorry and i'll slow down.” You whined, and he started speeding up again. “okay! Okay.” You shouted. “im sorry.” You said , and he stopped turning to you. “I won’t name him after sunghoon.” You said. “and?”

“And we can name him heeseung.” He smiled. “thank you,  that’s all I ask.” You rolled your eyes. “can we sit, I tired from chasing after you?” he nodded , finding a bench to sit on near the water. “here lets sit here.”

“did you have fun.” He asked — his eyes filled with so much nerves. “i won’t give you so much credit.” He frowned. “but I had a lot of fun.” You said, lightly punching his shoulder. “you remembered how much I love amusement parks.”

“of course! We used to go all the time after classes.” He said — remembering how you’d drag him whenever you had the chance, riding all the rides you could and eating the food until it was time to go home. “we had so much fun back then.”

You smiled — quickly frowning, it was fun hanging out with heeseung — but you couldn’t help but remembered why you stopped doing those things in the first place. “we did have fun back then didn’t we?”

He saw the change in your mood. “you okay?” you nodded, he kissed the back of his teeth. “it’s been 5 years since we hung out , not 50, I can still tell when you’re upset and lying about it.”

“Why are you doing this?” you said. “doing what?” He questioned. “this ,being nice to me, wanting to go on a date — I mean even as high schoolers you didn’t want to be anything more than friends, now all of a sudden you want to flirt and date me, even after that situation.”

He knew this was gonna come up and he thought he was ready , but he suddenly couldn’t speak. “I want to forgive you, I really do, but I need at least an explanation, is this just a joke between your friends because — it’s not I promise.”

“Then tell me what it is.” You said. “I’ve always liked you yn, even when were in high school.” He said. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d like me back , I mean we both what I looked in 9th grade.” You dry laughed. “but then things changed, I didn’t mean for them to, they just got out of hand.”

“you really hurt me heeseung, you were my only friend, I stood by you for everything.” You felt tears welding in your eyes. “and for you to say all those horrible things, and that our friendship meant nothing.” He wrapped his arms around your body. “im sorry.”

It was silent — both of you didn’t say anything as you say on the bench. He finally spoke up. “im so sorry I hurt you.” He whispered into your hair. “I'm so fuckin stupid yn.” He wiped your wet cheeks. “I’ve been waiting for the longest time to tell you that.” He said. “for the past 5 years that’s all I wanted to tell you.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off both your shoulders. “please forgive me.” He said , squeezing your hand. “I’ll try my best to quit, I swear.” You wanted to believe him — it was only 5 days, but it was longer than you’ve ever seen him in 5 years. “you’d really quit?” you asked. “for you? Of course I would.”

You both began to get cold , so you found your way back to his car — making your way back to your dorm. He parked outside your building, not really wanting to let you out. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow and take you to school.” He said , you nodded. “good night heeseung.”

You undid your seat belt opening the door. “Let’s go baby heeseung.” He laughed. “are you really gonna call it that?” you nodded. “of course , he’s our child.” You said , quickly reaching over to kiss his cheek his eyes widening. “wh-what—” before he fully say something you got out of the car.

“yah! You can’t just run away after doing that.” you turned waving. “goodnight!” you shouted, he watched you go into the building , before driving off a big dopey smile plastered on his face.

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©️LUVYENI

[luvjunie]

twirls my hair if you’re taking request uhhh— what about reader with tattoos like a full sleeve and piercings and maybe big hair like a fro, braids something that makes her stand out— basically she’s just real intimidating and popular too fast for her liking she just transferred school and the guys are trying to pounce on her but miles 42 is the one that catches her eye?

— a fresh start

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

summary: it’s your first day at a new school, and surprisingly, making a friend isn’t as hard as you thought it’d be. wc: 1,853

a/n: changed this up a little i hope you don’t mind! 100% unintentional but when my mind wanders i follow it 😭

Back at Brooklyn High, you were always told by teachers that school wasn’t a venue for your ‘personal fashion show’, but that it was a place for learning. And while you agreed, it wasn’t your fault that you looked the way you did… Well, that’s a lie. But you loved your look, and so did your peers.

While your hair was big and somewhat distracting to others, your dad always told you it reminded him of what your mom’s looked like the first time he met her, so you never bothered to change the way you styled it, no matter how much you dreaded putting it in bantu knots or doing a twist out every three days.

As for your face full of piercings, that was all you. It was something your dad didn’t favor at all, and he definitely didn’t understand how it was ‘a way for you to express and be true to yourself’, but that was the explanation you gave him, and eventually he accepted it. Though begrudgingly— it was still acceptance, so you took what you could get.

The first piercing was your eyebrow, and you’d done it in your bathroom when you were fourteen with a safety pin. One look at yourself in the mirror made you forget all about the throbbing pain radiating from your face, and just a week had passed before you were already thinking of another. You swore to your dad that it’d be the only one, and that you just wanted to try something new; until you wanted to try your belly button, your septum, and both of your nostrils. After that, It’s safe to say that everywhere you went, attention followed.

Expressing yourself through your clothes and accessories was just a part of who you were. And back at Brooklyn High, you were proud of the way you looked.

But you weren’t at Brooklyn High anymore.

The uniforms were drab at Visions academy. Every girl wearing the same two articles of clothing as the other; the same sad story for the boys. And to keep it a buck, if you were comparing visions to your old school, the atmosphere here sure looked a lot like a jail. And if not for the small loopholes you’d managed to locate in the dresscode, it would’ve felt like it, too.

The searing heat of curious eyes followed you the moment you entered the building, and you began to wonder if choosing to stand out on purpose was the best idea after all. It seemed at Visions, that came naturally for someone like you.

For a few reasons other than the ones you could change in five minutes, you didn’t fit in here. Not in the slightest.

With a wavered sigh and your books glued to your chest, you continued on to your first block, tuning out the whispers that were far from hushed.

It took you a little longer than the six minute passing period to discover your History class within the ginormous fluorescent halls, and when you finally stepped foot into the dimly lit room and noticed the Crash Course video playing on the projector, it dawned on you that they were already well into the lesson.

Almost everyone’s head lifted to look at you when you entered. Almost everyone’s head but a kid who was face down, drooling on his desk, and another whose gaze remained welded to a sheet of paper the graphite of his mechanical pencil was scribbling against. The familiarity of crisp parts and blue magic-sheened cornrows stood out to you first, and a small sense of comfort finally washed over you— for a moment.

The video on the projector paused abruptly, and your teacher appeared to be the exact opposite of dazzled at your late arrival. Great.

“Nice of you to join us, miss…?”

“Y/n, sorry…” You cleared your throat and smiled more like grimaced apologetically, the chain clipped to the waistband of your skirt serving as an idle fidget. “Got lost, real big school.”

Mr. Benson, as it read on your printed class schedule, adjusted his glasses when he went to jot something down onto the paper below him. “Alright, y/n. You can sit next to…”

You watched as a few kids straightened up in their seats, attempting to look uninterested enough to play it cool, yet noticeable enough for the teacher to remember they existed and place your seat next to them.

“Morales. Raise your hand.”

The boy in question quietly clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, pencil clacking against the wood of his desk when he set it down. It looked like his concentration had been broken, and instead of raising his hand, he lifted his head from where it was damn near nose deep in whatever he was doing, and just stared at you.

His slowed blinks gave you enough grounds to take a gander that he was the ‘Morales’ in question.

A stunted breath and a silent nod later, you made your way through the aisle of desks and smoothly slid into the one a pin-filled backpack had just been removed from.

You’d be crazy to not let your curiosity get the best of you, especially now that you were this close to where the brooding energy was coming from. So once your teacher unpaused the video, you stole a peek over at your new desk neighbor, and noticed that his right arm was now strategically placed over the geometric sketches on his paper.

Seeing as it was already mid-year and you were new to the huge school, you figured it’d be in your best interest to try and make at least one friend. You opened your mouth to introduce yourself to him, until a light tap on your shoulder from behind stole your attention.

“Umm, excuse me?”

You turned around to meet the freckled face of the boy who was sat behind you.

“Hm?”

“Yeah, sorry, but I can’t see over your hair. It’s kinda… in the way.”

It wasn’t necessarily what he said that bothered you, it was how he said it, and the fact that he barely stifled a laugh when he did.

Reclined in his chair with his arms crossed, Miles fought to hide the scowl threatening to twist his lips. The desks in this class were staggered, specifically to avoid the very issue of heads blocking the line of sight, meaning there was no way your hair was actually hindering his view.

“O-oh… Sorry, it does that. Sometimes.” Flustered, you nervously tried to press your hair down a little without ruining its shape, the one that took you a whole hour to achieve just this morning.

Miles assumed you were the girl his classmate was blabbing about just before the bell rung, remembering the brief yet detailed explanation of ‘fresh face, big hair, decked out uniform and kinda cute’. Poking fun at you must have been his pitiful attempt at flirting.

Miles suddenly spoke in your defense, eyes remaining on the screen in a bored daze.

“It’s not her fault you 5’2, James. Drink some milk when you get home, maybe you’ll have a growth spurt.”

You sent an inquisitive glance his way and kept it there. You hadn’t thought about what you expected his voice to sound like, or that the first time you’d hear it would be because of him defending you, but this was definitely a pleasant surprise. His voice was so smooth it put silk to shame, and it was a bit low, too, as if he’d just woken up a few minutes ago. Yet it didn’t sound as if he’d quieted his voice on purpose; something that led you to believe he was usually this soft spoken.

“Shut up, Miles.” James grumbled.

“Ain’t my fault you can’t flirt for shit. I’m tryna help you out.”

Some surrounding students close enough to hear the retort had snickered, and a laugh managed to leave your mouth before you could prevent it, resulting in a loud “SHHHH!” from the front of the class.

“That’s funny?” Miles’ hazel eyes floated over to you, swirling with mirth and pinning you in place.

He was joking, but his tone probably didn’t give off that vibe, seeing as you were gawking at him like a deer in headlights.

“I’m messin’ with you,” A small grin played on his face. “I’m Miles.”

“Oh,” an awkward chuckle relaxed your shoulders. “Y/n.” you responded quietly.

“Yeah… I know.” There was a hint of a chuckle beneath his voice. It seemed you’d forgotten that you revealed your identity to everyone just minutes ago.

But you couldn’t help it, you’d never seen a boy quite this pretty before, with lashes long enough to make you jealous and a smile you were certain owed its beauty to genetics, and not an expensive set of middle school braces.

He had six freshly done straightbacks with curved parts, and two clear beads hanging onto each tail that sat a little below his shoulders. It was then that you noticed the medium sized, gimmering stud he sported on his ear, and you deemed it safe to assume his other ear had the same. Cute.

Still feeling the heat of your eyes on his temple long after he’d averted his attention, Miles curiously glanced back at you, then teasingly nodded his head towards the front of the room.

“Pay attention,” he whispered, that same molten look in his eyes. “I don’t share notes.”

—

Class went by in a bit of a haze, to no surprise. It was extremely difficult to pay attention when the fear of your possibly-misshapen fro was on your mind. Today happened to be the one day you’d decided you didn’t need to bring your pick to school, the image of it sitting on your dresser emitting a disappointed sigh from you.

The tinny screech of chairs brought you back to the present, where class had been dismissed and students were shoving papers into their backpacks and shuffling out the doorway, all in a hurry to their next block.

Miles stood up from his seat, appearing to be in no rush.

“I like your hair, by the way.” he observed randomly. “Cool piercings, too.”

The compliment eased your nerves completely. It was genuine, as if he knew you were still thinking about what happened earlier.

“Thank you,” Tucking your notebook away, you looked up to see him sling his backpack over one shoulder. “for defending me earlier, too.”

“S’ no big deal.” he shrugged, but it was, to you.

“Cool braids, by the way.” you parroted through a lighthearted smile.

“Thanks,” Miles’ eyes panned to the floor when he felt himself grin. A habit of his you’d already managed to pick up on in your short knowing of him.

“I’ll catch you later.” He deemed with a two-fingered salute, other hand burrowing into the pocket of his pants.

Rising to your feet, you gave a small wave and watched as he headed out into the crowded hallway with the others; feeling a little less nervous to come to history class tomorrow.

[gay4abby]

TW: sh — If you’re not comfortable with this no worries but I was wondering if you would write a Jordan li x fem reader fic where they are kinda rivals (like reader is a total academic overachiever and just gets on Jordan’s nerves) but then Jordan finds her in the bathroom or somewhere after/while she self harmed/cut herself and realizes that they have to stop being an asshole for a second and help her and just the realization that they don’t know everything that goes on in people’s lives.

Been Something More …

warnings, huge self harm warning, angst, anger outbursts, attempted sexual assault. pairings, jordan li x reader. requests r open, it takes me a minute to get thru them tho so i do value ur patience ‹𝟥 hope u enjoyyyy

12:15pm

If there’s one thing you know you absolutely love doing is pissing off Jordan Li. Number one at something was instilled in you since birth, it didn’t convenience Jordan in anyway. The rush of being better at something too good of a drug they could give up coke. Jordan was the one you always have to one up, the one where if they’re good at welding you have to be fantastic at it. Where Jordan’s ranking is number three, yours is number two. Essentially you guys are always neck and neck with each other and it irritates Jordan to no end. There hasn’t been a day at God U where they felt like they were on top because you were always there to kick them down a notch.

It wasn’t always like this, though. When you and Jordan first met, you were both wide eyed freshmen’s that were hoping to get into crime fighting school, get under Brink’s good graces and possibly make it to the 7. You had that dream, but you always felt like you weren’t enough for it. No one needed to know that though, not even Jordan. Little did you know Jordan felt the same way. Anyone who had the same aspirations as you had to know their place. General requirement classes were on every freshman’s time table and you found yourself in the same class as the timid teen.

They barely spoke a word to you as you sat next to each other. You noticed their fingers pulling at one another underneath the table, but had the straightest face to anyone who can see. It was applaudable, but you tried not to make it shown that you were watching them. Jordan carried an air of confidence, your body tense, mouth tightly shut. Unnoticed by Jordan. It was a wonder how you guys are the way you are today, constantly fighting and bickering when just freshmen year you didn’t think you could outshine someone like Jordan. The yearn of a hollow heart where it once was filled with a brief friendship from you and Jordan, you really don’t know where it went wrong.

You passed out flyers, enthusiastic energy blooming from you as you engaged with the students who passed by the courtyard of the fourth quad on campus. The housing system always confused you when you first started out, your understanding of it coming from a rival. You felt his eyes bore into you, your smiling almost fading, the lull feeling of wanting to crawl away somewhere and die was welcomed. As much of a front you put up, it always felt demeaning when Jordan would turn their nose down on you.

You used to yearn for them to look at you lovingly only for it to be squashed like a child’s dream of being a mythical creature. “Vote for ____ for Student Council President! Justice is an action that deserves traction. Wouldn’t you want your voice to be heard?”

“Yeah, your future president will make sure all your needs are met. A vote for them is a vote for universal accessibility!” Your choice for your team was all your best friends idea and by the outcome of those accepting pins and proudly placing them on their attire, you knew you were in good hands. Almost all of the flyers that were in your hand were tossed out on to the floor, the aggressiveness of the impact alerting you of who it was. Your own attitude began bubbling underneath the surface, turning your body with a strained smile on your glossed lips. Jordan’s smug look made you breathe heavily, free hand fist curling slowly as you pulled it behind your back.

Seeing them was one thing, knowing they were another one of the candidates was another.

They were the last thing you wanted to see, but going to God U, being amongst the top five, it was fucking inevitable. “Watch where you’re going, I would hate it if someone would to hurt that pretty face,” it was malicious. Like inkling on a threat and it had you wondering if they were serious or not because it was always hard to tell with Jordan. Your jaw clenched, the strain sending a beaming pain through your temples. Your nail dug into your palm. You’re sure it drew blood. “There’s nothing as insulting than being called pretty by you.” You spit back, the grind in your teeth at the last part causing Jordan’s smirk to turn in size that even you wondered how it didn’t fall off his face.

How you wished you could sear it off their face for it to never appear again. “You’re so fucking funny,” Jordan bit, long legs carrying them away from you as they walk backwards, giving you the bird before turning back around. How did it even come to this? At one point you genuinely thought that you both could be good friends, the kind that makes it out of university and grow meaningful connections outside of yourselves that brings you closer together. You thought a lot of things about Jordan. You never thought you’d end up hating their guts.

The lot of you continued handing out flyers as your best friend kept a watchful eye on you from behind the table. It was unsettling succumbing to the thought of surrender, but for your sake, your best friend knew not to stir anything up when it came to Jordan, no matter how much she wanted to. Besides it wasn’t her place to say anything, she knew how you were and to cause anything to ruffle the waters was the last thing she wanted to do.

20:05 (8:05pm)

“So, the last of the flyers were passed out at the courtyard. Since the elections tonight we don’t need to make anymore. We have enough hanging on the bulletins around campus, so, we’re all set!” Everyone cheered as you all were gathered around in the small space that was reserved for the campaign meeting. The people on your team put in so much work — you almost felt like you were slaving them, but with reassurance from them that they volunteered to do this, you weren’t forcing them to do anything.

They knew you were the perfect candidate for president. And you were reminded of it constantly.

“I appreciate every single one of you for putting in all the hard work to make this campaign possible for me. I really couldn’t have done it without any of you,” it was so sincere that you teetering on crying almost. Waterlines slowly filling up. Prior to your life before Godlkin University, it wasn’t something you were automatically proud of; the sheer thought of a full house feeling vacant wasn’t something you can easily tell someone.

They’d think you’re being ungrateful, for gods sake.

You drowned out most of what everyone was saying. That dreadful feeling creeping slowly, wrapping around you like it wanted to cocoon you into a blanket of worry and self doubt. This was typical, especially in a moment of an achievement that you couldn’t imagine for yourself. You knew you were a shoo in for the win, but it didn’t matter how much you were sure, how high your confidence in the moment was; the one thing you knew for sure was the voice in the back of your mind. Way deep to the very crevice of your brain telling you something is going to go wrong. And when it’s right you never respond to it very well.

20:59 (8:59pm)

Everyone stood around their computers and tablets, monitoring the gradual progress of the ballots. You were nervous of course, but you knew. You knew you were going to win, you knew that you were going to be able to give a voice to those that didn’t have the same advantages most funded students did at this school. And you weren’t going to fuck it up for absolutely no one.

It was yours for the taking and you worked so hard for something you never had the opportunity to do in grade school. Only a couple more seconds before the lot of you found out it was you — there was a sudden high pitched sound that drowned out the countdown to the announcement, clammy hands touched your heated skin. Your throat felt tight, your smile tight and frozen as you tried to breathe. Everything was moving slow, you didn’t realise your name was being called until you were shook to reality. “Hey, it’s alright. It was a bust, but you were runner up if they’d–”

“I don’t need your backhanded pity,” you snapped, the expression on your face made her whimper and cower back as you took a strained breath. Your heart dropped way past your stomach, it was completely out of your body before they finished saying that wretched, nonsensical pest’s name. They were invading parts of your life that you were…fine with letting go, but the one thing you were looking forward to, knew that would be yours no matter what was stripped from you like clothes.

You felt like you were in a dream where you were in front of everyone in just your underwear. It was unraveling your mind to the point where you would do absolutely anything to be buried six feet under. “Let’s let loose and forget about tonight, huh? There’s a rager being hosted by Lambda Phi Epsilon…what better way to blow off some steam than to blow an actual steamer?” Layla’s voice pulled you back to reality. You turned your head in surprise weighing the option in your head. Gilmore Girls definitely was not a hot fuck. “If you can get me alone with Luke, I’ll make sure you have a years supply of Nature Valley granola bars.”

Layla squealed pulling you along and out of the dorm to get the both of you ready for an unforgettable night.

22:30 (10:30pm)

On campus parties aren’t something you frequented to for pass time. Mainly because you didn’t care for that. Partially because you knew you’d see Jordan there and their face alone can ruin an entire week for you. But tonight? Tonight you weren’t going to allow anything or anyone to ruin your night of fun. Carefree, brute fun without any sort of supervision. You earned it, you deserve it. Layla was nowhere to be found, failure on her end to hook you up with Golden Boy. But that’s okay since you were nursing your eighth…ninth drink? You kind of lost count after the round of shots Elliot brought over for everyone standing around the island.

The room was divided into twos, doubles of everything showing up in your vision but you couldn’t care less. The only thing that mattered was getting another drink in your system to make it all blur into one. You stumbled around in the kitchen, grabbing a red solo cup and stumbling again towards the keg. Your unawareness of eyes following you left you open for any random party goer to warp you into their grasp. “Whoops! So…rry!” Your giggles filled the air as you dropped to your knees after almost knocking over a passerby while trying to regain balance again. You were pumping the keg trying to get the beverage through, unsuccessfully pouring any beer into your cup.

“Aw, don’t pout. Look I got you.” A smooth voice rang through your ears before you even register it. You looked up a dazed expression on your features, moving over a bit to give him some room. The stranger grabbed your cup, pumping the keg until it spewed out more beer into your cup, your hands coming together to aggressively clap at the revelation. “You did it! How’d you do that?” Your words slurred as his hand grabbed you underneath your armpit to help you stand up and to give you your drink. You held on to him, he was broad and tough to the touch; you couldn’t even remember the last time you felt up a guy.

His hands slyly made its way around your hips, pulling you close to him as he practically carried you away from the scene in the kitchen. Everyone around you was unaware of the two of you, drunk or high off their asses. You were unaware of the situation at hand too, you had no idea who this guy was, but because you were unsuccessful in bedding Golden Boy — despite him having a girlfriend. You’d admit you were even willing to do a little home wrecking if meant getting destroyed by his golden dick.

But the one you were practically hanging off of would have to do. The red solo cup barely made it to your lips before it was pushed out of your hand, a whine escaping you as you carried up the stairs of the overflowing frat house. “My drink…we have to get another!” The guy could barely hear you, nodding along anyway as he continued to drag you up the stairs. You were growing antsy due to the alcohol in your system slowly fading away, but the haziness was still there. “It’s alright I’ll get you another one soon, baby.”

It was fleeting, the way he said it, like he just wanted you to shut up. You didn’t take it this way, though. You could barely understand what was going on around you. A cheer was heard from downstairs, but it soon became muffled as you heard a door shut. The clink sound rebounded on deaf ears. “This isn’t where are – the drinks aren’t… Where…” It was slurred. The guy had you leaning against a wall, hands roaming around the region below your stomach. You hummed, head lolling off to the side.

Everything around you was muffled, the guy talking to you, the music outside the room, the sudden banging on the door that the guy tried to ignore. “We’re busy!” He yelled before going back to you, how’d you get to the bed? You were motionless underneath him and he didn’t seem to care at all. You didn’t hear anything until you came back to reality to the commotion unfolding in front of you. “You don’t see they’re wasted out of their mind? What the fuck, dude?” The guy was shoved back into the nightstand, the lamp toppling over. Your eyes connected with Jordan’s tall stature, the aggressiveness of his push causing the guy to grow red in the face.

“Fuck you, man! They were practically jumping my bones, they wanted it!”

He didn’t even get the chance to stand up straight enough before Jordan landed a clean one on his cheek. With the way his body swung to the side, he was going to be out cold for a week. Fury wouldn’t be able to describe the feeling gorging from within you, “What the fuck, Jordan! You asshole, you’re such an asshole!”

“I’m the asshole? Sorry for fucking saving you from getting raped by the fraternity fiend! Do you realise who you were just with?” You scoffed as you tried to push him back, but being unable to due to his rigid form. “You had no right! I wanted to him to fuck me!”

“Right, so then you can go cry about it and tell everyone who will listen just how fucked your life is! ‘Oh poor ol’ ____, I was taken advantage off while I was drunk off my ass. Why does bad things always happen to me? Why am I such a fuck up that nothing can ever go right?’” Your heart couldn’t even drop from your chest because it was gone the minute it was announced that Jordan won the elections. You felt like eating yourself alive the way a snake does when depressed. You wanted to be nonexistent in a world that was never in your favour. So, Jordan was right. To you, he was right.

“You took everything from me, you know that? I just wanted this one thing and you took that too.” It was barely even a whisper, you shoved your shoulder against Jordan’s as you stumbled your way out of the room. “Where the fuck are you going? You’re not going home by yourself.”

“Of course I’m fucking not! Contrary to popular belief, I can come to a party responsibly and have a buddy when leaving!” You didn’t even give Jordan another chance to stop you before you slammed the door close, making haste to text your sober buddy to meet you outside. One fuck up after the other and you couldn’t even have a night of reprieve to drown your sorrows in liqueur for losing. This was the worst night of your entire life.

03:45am

Sobering up after the unfortunate events that occurred at the party made you pity yourself. Although Jordan was right, having them as your saviour left a horrid taste in your mouth. It was all hitting you at once. Sitting in your dorm room in the dark could do that to you. Streaks of tears stained your cheeks. You’ve been sitting in the same spot your sober buddy had put you in for three hours. Makeup still caked on your face but it was old looking now, the crying didn’t help it stay intact either, what a shock. The only way you were going to get rid of this feeling was a shower. And not just any typical shower.

The communal showers should be vacant during this time of night. Everyone either studying, partying or sleeping. You mustered up enough energy after crying for three hours straight to get up, strip yourself of your party clothes, grab your shower caddy and head off to the showers. You breathed a sigh relief after seeing no one was in here and you didn’t hear anything so you were in the clear making quick work of turning the shower on. You took the stall further down, away from the entrance so you could have some privacy.

It wasn’t something you were proud of doing, but it was something you knew that you needed to do to let yourself know that no matter what, the pain will always be there to comfort you. To mask what dreadful emotion you’re feeling so you can forget what it feels like. Fortunately for you, the showers had benches in them, it wasn’t hard for you to cut yourself because you were not about to sit on those communal shower floors. One slice and you hissed, the blood pouring from the open wound. You didn’t care to have the blood swirl from underneath the curtain because no one was there.

Or so you thought.

“Hey…uh…is everything okay in there?” You silently jumped at the voice that rang through the vacant occupied washroom. And it wasn’t just anyone’s voice. The soft, almost velvety tone would have comforted you at a time where you thought you were both friends. Now it just sends an unusual chill up your spine. “I see the blood. Are you okay?” They continued, hearing them move closer to the curtain. You couldn’t stay silent because they already knew someone was in here, plus the goddamn shower was on! “Everything’s fine, just, go away.”

Jordan called your name and it sounded concerned. Moving closer to the curtain, their delicate hand grabbed on to it, hesitating a little, “I’m going to open this, okay?” It made you jump up slightly, slipping on your foot and blood to collide with the floor. Jordan didn’t wait for an answer before opening the curtain to find you wet, naked and covered in your own blood. There was at least four cuts running down your inner thigh. The worry on Jordan’s face caused your heart to clench and you hurried to cover yourself with what little you had.

“What the fuck! Are you okay? Fuck,” she leaned down, the towel that was over her shoulder long discarded as they reached out to tug you up from your underarms. You didn’t have the energy to fight back, but that’s what losing blood tends to do to you. Jordan shut the water off after getting wet through their pyjamas. They sat you down with care on to the bench examining your thighs. You weren’t sure why they were making such a fuss over it, the both of you hating each other like your life depended on it.

“Why? What the fuck?” She looked at you with her big brown eyes and what shocked you the most was it wasn’t filled with the usually flaming hatred that you always saw. You couldn’t hold it in anymore and tears streamed down your cheeks once more. You let yourself go, the impact of the hit against the wall causing a pain to run through your skull. “Ow…”

“Come on, get up.” After reaching for your towel and securing it around you, she lifted you up from the bench and used all her strength in her female form to lug you out of the washroom.

04:27am

You didn’t expect to ever be in Jordan’s dorm room, let alone on their bed, naked, and getting patched up by Jordan! After you guys had fell off, anything remotely close to friendly activities seemed out of the ballpark for you and her. Literally impossible to be in the same room together. Who knew self harming was going to be the thing that brought you both back together?

It was silent for the rest of the time she spent covering up your wounds. You know for sure she saw the other healed over one’s, just littered across your thighs. You couldn’t read their face as they taped over the gauze, moving back to put away the first aid kit. The silence was killing you, you never realised just how much tension you both held until you were alone with them. The clattering of the kit being stored away was the only sound that rang through the room.

You can hear a pin drop if you so pleased.

You were still on their bed, wrapped in a towel and shivering slightly. Jordan took note of this and walked back to their closet to pull out a sweater and some sweats. Upon noticing, you jumped from the bed immediately stating that you should go. “I’m not leaving you alone just so you can hurt yourself again. You’re staying here for the night. Until I know you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Any sane person would be able to tell you that,” Jordan said sternly. You both were in a state off now, eyebrows furrowing. Jordan had enough before they threw you the clothes, which you reluctantly caught. “Put them on. Now.” Without any further argument, you stripped yourself of the towel and slid the clothes on. They were warm and it smelled like her, too. You can’t remember the last time you even hugged Jordan. Wearing their clothes made you realise how much you missed them.

You sniffed as you fix the hem of the sweater. It was a little big on you, the sleeves covering your hands making them look like paws. Jordan hid their smile before walking over to her mini fridge to bring out a bottle of water and gummy bears. “Here.” You accepted, no questions asked. Silence rang through again. The only sound this time was the crackling of the plastic bag and your swallowing as you sat on the floor, Jordan in their desk chair. It was eating away at Jordan to ask why. She couldn’t imagine you feeling that way about yourself so much so to cut yourself.

She always saw you as someone who was resilient, didn’t back down. Never took no as an answer when it came to getting what you want. Jordan saw you as someone they always admired to be. Which made them realise that everyone has their own silent battles going on and that they should be kinder even if it is to a stranger. Even if it is towards you. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘How could you do this? Your life is perfect!’” Perfect came out of your mouth like it was a bad tasting pasta. “I never thought that.”

“You’re lying. I know you do.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling again and Jordan rushed over to sit beside you on the floor. The haribo wrapper was crushed in your fist as you tried to hold the tears back. It all came rushing out like word vomit, “You were my friend. You were the first person I connected with on campus. I came to this school with high hopes, but I didn’t come here thinking I was going to make an enemy out of someone I admire so much.

“You had no idea how much I looked up to you. How much I wanted to be apart of something I knew you were going to be apart of someday. You had it all. And I just wanted to be…I wanted us to be a paired equal,” you took a second to breathe which made Jordan cut in. “You didn’t use the past tense in admire…does that mean…”

“You fucking asshole. That’s your take away? How much I admired you?” Jordan stuttered a bit before answering you.

“No, that’s not. Fuck. No, I’m sorry. I mean. I admire you too and you don’t even realise.” That confused you. Jordan Li, ranking at number two on the charts, admires you? Someone who could never outmatch an opponent like Jordan admires you? And don’t even get me started on the fact that admire is in present tense, not past. “I’ve always thought you one of a kind. Someone my parents would love more than their own child. Granted I have other siblings, but they don’t count. You’re another Supe with incredibly unique powers. I couldn’t imagine going against someone like you.”

“So what’s with all the animosity for the past three years, Jordan?”

“I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t! I thought you hated me!” You exclaimed into the otherwise quiet room. It was baffling to find out that it was just a case of fucking miscommunication. And come to think of it, there wasn’t a significant event that happened between the two of you to cause such strife in your friendship. Jordan realised she needed to make amends. “Well, I didn’t. At least not all the time. And what I said earlier, it was uncalled for. It’s never your fault, I hope you know that.”

You nodded, “I know, but you were right. I probably would’ve just whined about it when I could’ve just said no.”

“No, don’t do that. You were intoxicated, barely in your right mind. It’s all his fault. Not yours,” you felt her hand slide into yours as she said this, squeezing it gently those wide brown eyes wouldn’t leave you for a second. “Can I also ask…”

“It’s something I’ve always done. Even before I came to God U. Growing up in a household like mine you find other ways to make yourself forget the on going torment from your parents,” you whispered, squeezing her hand back. You leaned over placing your head on her shoulder and she automatically wrapped her arm around you to pull you closer. “I’m sorry for not being there,” Jordan whispered, as if they said it any louder it would ruin the quiet moment the both of you have going on. “I’m sorry for not being there, either.”

“Promise me something?”

You nodded in agreement, “We will always have each other no matter what, who or when. I don’t want you to be a stranger again.”

“I promise.”

[pttedu]

Explore cutting-edge welding technology shaping today's welding work. From automation to sustainability, discover the future of fabrication with precision.

[no1heyyyyyyyy]

Sevika's tastes

Sevika is an old lady and she just wants to be left alone. She likes to look good but when it comes to clothes, Miss thing just doesn’t care that much. She always has practicality in mind. So, no dresses, nothing flowy, has to have natural fabrics so that her skin can breathe, and she requires that things are comfortable. Her shoes are always made for hardware with a strong sole and often reinforced. In the modern world, I see her working in metal working (specifically welding), so she has to have clothes that are multipurpose. Though, if she was forced to wear anything really nice, it would be a simple well-cut blazer and a button down with jeans or slacks that conform to her legs nicely. She prefers earthy colors, nothing too flashy. I think she’d really appreciate a nice dark green, or perhaps brown. I also feel that she would enjoy a nice flannel regularly.

With food, I’m afraid her palette is as unrefined as her clothing choices. She genuinely does not care what she eats, though she really likes chicken- loves hot wings, spicy food is her love. But, her comfort food will always be the food native to what part of India her family is from. I don’t think she’s the best cook, but she has a few family recipes that she knows so well (aloo gobi, chai, samosa, tikka masala, saag paneer). And, I think that on nights where she’s feeling really sad or lonely she always craves those foods. She’d love to cook with or for her partner, it’d be the best way to get to know her honestly. Because it allows for her to show vulnerability through actions and without words. She loves to take care of people and I think in modern times she’d mother her friends just a bit, always making sure they’re eating well, drinking their water, and sleeping right (if not she’ll give them some chai). She doesn’t eat beef or dark meats in general, and she isn’t the biggest fan of seafood or turkey. So, she sticks with her chicken and her paneer. She’ll eat tofu but it needs to be in curry or something similar.

This woman would love 80s hair metal, music is something that I genuinely believe she’d love so much. She’d play drums as a teenager, dead set on becoming the drummer of the next Metallica. She’d also love the old school heavy metal bands, Iron Maiden, Metallica, Black Sabbath, Pantera. She’d love them all. I think she’d like some old school 90s rap too, but none of the new-age mumble rap that’s going on. She wouldn’t really like Taylor Swift’s music, just because it didn’t vibe with her, but she respected Taylor’s ability to get a bag. She has had a huge crush on Adele ever since she heard the album 25 when it came out. She liked some of her music, but thought Adele was drop dead gorgeous and all mature and soulful and shit, hit her in the feels and made her whipped for this woman she didn’t even know.

For movies she loves shitty 80s slasher horror, nothing that makes her think. She’d sit back in her old recliner in her pajamas and house slippers whilst watching Slumber Party Massacre for the third time, and then put on Golden Girls because she feels that Dorothy Zbornak is her spirit animal. She likes a good sitcom too and a ridiculous drama (she loves Desperate Housewives), she likes the camp, the over the top acting and dumb plots, it makes her laugh and feel care free in a way she hasn’t been in a long time. She just wants to curl up with her pets (she would have many) and watch teen-based tv shows that revolve around crime or secrets (Pretty Little Liars, Riverdale, Vampire Diaries, even Buffy etc.). She likes how bad they are, but she gets so invested it’s ridiculous.

For personal scents she’d like more woody, alluring scents that are also kind of sweet. Think Amber by Rag n’ Bone (it smells so good), she doesn’t spray much, just a spritz, it wafts around her just slightly, just enough for women to fall at her feet. Her individual smell wouldn't be overpowering but it would definitely be clear. It’s grounding and soothing. Her sweat stinks though, every time she comes back from the gym, she goes straight to the showers because her own dogs don’t want to come near her b.o.

In general, Sevika is an old woman who couldn’t give less of a shit. She wants to be left alone with her life and her people and chill. Which is why, I feel like she isn’t that opinionated on much unless it’s boundaries or causes she cares about. She just doesn’t have the energy to be bothered with trivial things like which movie to choose for the night, or which restaurant to go to. She is tired and all she wants to do is eat good food with her partner and her pets in a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t like neighbors and she doesn’t like people in her business. She doesn’t need a perfect life, just one that’s hers.

for whatever reason the letters are being weird, it is killing me. Please ignore it.

[6rookie-writer0110]

High Night Dallas

Jacob Black x Male Reader

Request- I've noticed you write Twilight stuff so here's a request can you do one where the male teen reader is Jake's litte Brother and does a school play talen show where he and a group of friends do the scene from resident evil 8 where they discusse of the fate of Ethan and the teen is dressed up as heisenberg

You couldn't wait to go home, you rushed home on your bike. You jumped off your bike and rushed towards the garage, your older brother Jacob was fixing his motorcycle.

“Wow, slow down,” Jacob said.

“I got good news. Something happened to me in school!” You smiled.

“Tell me before you explode” Jacob teased.

“I'm going to do a school play and I got the role of Karl Heisenberg, and that is a big deal” You smiled.

“Awesome, but who is Karl Heisenberg,” Jacob said.

“Karl Heisenberg is a character from a video game called Resident Evil Village,” You said.

Jacob doesn't play video games all the time. You take out your phone and you start to show him videos of Karl. Then you explained the back story of him in the game.

Jacob always encourages you to try something new. He knows that it can be hard for you to make friends. He supports you in everything and he listens to you talk about video games and more.

“When is the play?” Jacob asked.

“In a few weeks, our first rehearsal was today. I'm feeling really nervous to be in front of people on stage, I never did this before” You said.

He puts his hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N, you will do great. Just do your best and don't focus on the audience” Jacob said.

“Thanks, Jacob. What's for dinner?” You said.

“I don't know, maybe meatloaf?” Jacob said.

“Sure,” You said.

You help your brother cook dinner. He starts to ask questions about the play and you tell him the plot.

——-

For the past few days… you have been staying after school for rehearsal. But sometimes, Jacob would help you run your lines. But tonight you are teaching Jacob how to play the game. Over and over you have to tell him what buttons to press but his character will die.

“Was that a demon baby!?” Jacob yelled.

You couldn't help to laugh.

“Yeah, demon baby. I got scared when I first played the game and it's still creepy” You said.

“Oh, that's when you played in the dark and I heard you scream” Jacob laughed.

“Shut up,” You said.

He laughed again and you rolled your eyes at him.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Tonight is the play and you are feeling nervous. Jacob noticed a lot of people came to watch the play. The play starts and you notice your brother is watching, you are happy that he came but you are smiling on the inside.

In the scene, everyone is talking about Ethan’s fate in the meeting.

“Mother Miranda, I must protest! Heisenberg is but a child, and his devotion to you is questionable. Give the mortal to me, and I will ensure he is ready” She said.

“Shut your damn hole and don't be a sore loser! Go find your food somewhere else” You said loudly.

“Quiet now, child! Adults are talking” She said.

“I'm the child? You're the one who's arguing with Miranda's decision!” You yelled.

“YOU wouldn't know responsibility if it was welded to that hammer!” She yelled.

“Oh, keep growing! One day, your head might actually fit your ego!” You yelled back.

“Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” another actress giggled.

“Hey, don't I get a say in this?” He said.

Jacob starts to take a few pictures of you on stage. When the show ended, Jacob and everyone else started to clap. You are smiling at Jacob and he takes pictures of you again.

After the show, he gave you a hug. You introduced your brother to your friends.

“You were great, Y/N,” Jacob said.

“Thanks. I was really nervous and hoping I wouldn't screw up” You said.

“I did like the show, but I didn't understand some parts,” Jacob said.

“Don’t worry, I will help you understand the story when you are buying dinner” You said.

“Yeah, I’m starving too. Are you going to take off the hat and trench coat?” Jacob smiled.

“No, I like how it feels,” You said.

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Nine

Summary:

After getting some guidance from Shadowheart and Karlach, you and Astarion sit down for a much needed conversation.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.9k Tags/Warnings: none (for this chapter, see AO3 for a full list)

It's happened. I've left the realm of vampire smut and gone full-on vampire romance. Go check out Zaria for more amazing screenshots of the professor.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

There’s a knock on your office door as you’re packing up, getting ready to leave. Your heart skips a beat before you remember that he’s not usually one to knock. You look up and see Shadowheart in your doorway, long silver braid swinging down her back. You eye her suspiciously.

“It’s an awfully long walk from the Divinity School...” you say slowly, your tone playfully accusatory. She pretends to be affronted, holding her hand to her chest.

“How dare you, can I not drop by my best friend’s office at the end of the day?” she says with an artificial gasp. 

“And just maybe sneak a peek at the hot TD in the process?” you smirk at her and she flashes you a cheeky smile. 

“I mean if we happen to wander past the set... design.. workshop on the way to your car, I wouldn’t say no,” she says in a sing-songy voice, and you laugh at her attempt to correctly name the location where Karlach works.

“The scene shop is in the literal opposite direction, but we can pretend like it’s not,” you quip and gesture to the chair in front of your desk. “Sit, I’m just gonna be a minute longer.” She daintily perches on the arm of the chair while her eyes scan the various show posters on the wall.

“Ooh, Venus in Fur, what’s that one about?” she asks innocently and you scoff as you slip your laptop into your bag.

“Don’t be coy, Hallowleaf. I want details. What happened the other night with Karlach?”

She fiddles with the end of her braid and tries to hide her smile. “Nothing too exciting,” she sheepishly admits. You swing your bag over your shoulder and smugly narrow your eyes.

“Mmm-hmm. Well let’s go casually head over to the other side of the building, away from the parking lot.” You try to suppress your shit-eating grin as much as you can, but you still see the tips of Shadowheart’s ears tinge pink. 

The two of you walk across the lobby of the theater and into the backstage area towards the scene shop. You pass through the wide double doors and see Karlach sitting on a stool, elbow resting on her knee, while she talks to Fytz, the shop supervisor. When Karlach spots you, she puts her arm up and waves.

“Hiya, soldier! Nice of you to visit!” She clears her throat in an attempt to sound cool and disaffected as she adds, “Hey there, Shads. Good to see you again.” You hear a little giggle escape Shadowheart’s throat that you know she will absolutely deny if you bring it up later.

“Hey Karlach, Fytz. How is the build for the new play going? What’s the name of the playwright again?”

“Barcus Wroot. The set has been a nightmare to put together, we’ve never had to deal with so much welding,” Fytz says with a heavy sigh, jokingly wiping sweat from her brow.

“But man is that little freak a riot,” Karlach adds with a bellowing laugh. “He’s been great to work with, I’m glad we chose him for the new play slot.”

“I’m so excited to see it. Shade, you should come with us to opening night,” you say, turning to Shadowheart. “It’s an absurdist comedy called The Tinker, and it’s fucking hysterical.”

“Yeah, you should come with us!” Karlach squeals enthusiastically. 

“Sounds like a lovely time,” Shadowheart says coyly in an attempt to not give away her hand, but you’re fairly certain that her feelings for Karlach could be witnessed from outer space.

“Oh, and soldier, you never filled us in on what happened with Dammon! I saw you two leave together,” she adds suggestively, and the guilty pang returns. You mentally acknowledge it and return your focus to the conversation.

“It’s far less interesting than you think, but maybe this should be discussed over drinks instead,” you say with a smirk. “Fytz, would you like to join us?”

“Oh, thank you for the offer, but I shouldn’t. I’ve got the feller and a little one to get back to,” she replies genially. Shadowheart frowns and fiddles with her braid.

“I’d love to go, but my bank account would be none too pleased with another trip to the Elfsong,” she says, her voice brimming with regret. 

“Well I’ve got some brewskies at my place if you don’t mind sitting on the floor. I’m still waiting for my couch to be delivered,” Karlach adds brightly, and you feel Shadowheart’s energy change very quickly.

“That sounds fine!” she responds almost instantaneously, and you try not to giggle. She hates beer, and you can’t exactly picture her sitting on the floor.

“Great!” Karlach beams and hops off the stool, sending it scooting backwards with a metal screech. “I’ll text you the address,” she adds to you, then shoots a quick wink at Shadowheart, causing her to flush a deep pink. 

***

This is your first time at Karlach’s, and you’re surprised by how quaint her house is. She lives in a little cottage outside of the city with an overgrown garden out front. When you and Shadowheart approach the door, you hear a deep woof from inside even before you ring the bell.

“No, Clive, get back!” Karlach’s voice rises above the din of the dog’s barks. She opens the door a crack, clearly blocking the creature behind her. “I hope you’re okay with dogs,” she shouts. You can feel Shadowheart stiffen; she had a nasty run in with a wolf as a kid, and large dogs still make her nervous. You surreptitiously grab her hand and give it a quick squeeze.

The two of you slide through the narrow opening to keep Clive from running outside. His appearance surprises you; a dark brown chow chow, at first glance you almost think he’s a small bear. He’s jumping up on both of you excitedly and Shadowheart nervously takes a step back. Karlach notices her apprehension and sharply commands Clive to sit with a snap of her fingers.

“Oi! Clive!” she barks at him, and he immediately settles down and stares at you with black beady eyes, tongue lolling out of his mouth happily. “He’s very friendly, he just gets excited to meet new people,” she adds in apology.

“Gee, I wonder where he picked that up from?” you tease, and Karlach throws her head back with a laugh. 

“Go on into the living room, I’ll grab us some drinks. Shads, do you want me to lock him up?” She checks in with Shadowheart, her brow furrowing with concern. 

“No, no, don’t worry about me!” she squeaks out. Then, after taking a moment to compose herself, she continues, “I’ll be fine if he continues to sit nicely like that.”

“Y’hear that, Clive?” Karlach addresses the dog and he looks back at her blankly, not a single thought between his fuzzy ears. “Ya gotta sit nicely or else the pretty lady won’t come back. Oh and Shads, go ahead and grab a dining room chair if you don’t want to get dog hair all over that cute dress.” Karlach flashes a toothy grin and Shadowheart responds with a look that almost makes you feel like you’re intruding on a private moment. 

You awkwardly clear your throat and they both jump slightly, almost like they had forgotten about you entirely. You head into the living room, sitting on the round orange and yellow rug beneath the coffee table. Shadowheart follows and grabs one of the mismatched wooden chairs at the dining room table, bringing it over to where you’re sitting.

“Gods Shade, you must be down real bad, you don’t even like beer,” you whisper, keeping your voice low so Karlach won’t hear you in the kitchen a room over. She shushes you with her hand, nevertheless.

“I’m always willing to try new things,” she responds haughtily, but her wrinkled nose gives her away. 

“At least you can maintain your dignity and not sit on the floor,” you tease, shoving her knee. 

“Hey, I’m a big fan of sitting on the floor. Picnics? Wasting away the hours in a little garden? I’m just not now, because,” she hesitates, eyes darting to Clive, who is still sitting obediently by the door.

Karlach returns with three unlabeled bottles and places them down on the table. You and Shadowheart each take one, and she eyes the dark brown glass warily.

“My friend Aradin makes these in his basement. Well, ‘friend’ might be pushing it, he’s a bit of a twat. But I’ll be damned if he doesn’t make a good craft beer,” Karlach says with a laugh and holds out her bottle to toast. The three of you clink and you take a sip. It’s dark and sweet with a rich finish. Shadowheart takes the smallest of sips and tries to mask her disgust with a smile. Karlach either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to.

“So soldier, fill us in, what happened?” She curls one leg beneath her and rests her drink on her other knee, leaning forward excitedly. You shake your head, disappointed that you’re about to dash her dreams.

“I mean, literally nothing. We kissed, I freaked out, and he drove me home. I feel bad, too, he’s such a cutie and I feel like I led him on.” You frown, his words still echoing in your head. It’s not manipulative to not know what you want.

“Oh, he’s a big boy, he’ll get over it. He certainly doesn’t have a lack of suitors banging down his door,” Karlach says with a laugh. Shadowheart puts her beer on the table and crosses her legs, clasping her hands together around her knee.

“What freaked you out, was it Astarion?” she asks, her lips pursed. You take a big sip to avoid answering the question right away.

“Yeah. It still felt unresolved with him, and that wouldn’t have been fair to either of them. Any of us, to be honest.” You fidget with a loose thread in the spiral rug and you can still feel Shadowheart’s gaze boring into you.

“And now?” she asks pointedly, and you respond with a noncommittal shrug.

“We talked. He apologized. Now I just need to figure some things out,” you reply vaguely. Shadowheart lets out a cackle.

“He owes you so much more than just an apology after the shit that he’s pulled,” she sneers and Karlach snickers.

“A boatload of flowers, at least, and unlimited foot massages,” she says with a nod, taking a sip of her beer.

“I mean yes, he did more than just apologize,” you say, shaking your head. “We talked and realized we weren’t as much on the same page as we thought we were. He thought we were playing a game, we just didn’t actually talk about it beforehand.”

“Seems like a pretty fucking important step, if you ask me,” Shadowheart snarls, and Karlach’s eyes flit over to her, the corner of her lip tugging upwards.

“Is it a game you’d wanna play if you were in on it?” Karlach asks, tilting her head. You let out a heavy sigh.

“That’s the thing, yes,” you say despondently.

“Then why d’you sound so sad about it?” Karlach presses and you curl your knees into your chest.

At some point in the conversation, Clive pads over and sits between you and Shadowheart, the picture of perfect behavior. She doesn’t even register that he’s near her - she’s too focused on you.

“I guess,” you start, scraping your nail along some residual glue on the bottle from the previous label. “I’m working on accepting this new part of me. This thing about me that he discovered before I did.”

“What, that you like it a little rough?” Karlach asks with a salacious wink, and Shadowheart picks up her bottle again to hide her reddening face behind it. Clive shuffles over to her and rests his chin on her lap. She absentmindedly scratches behind his round, bear-like ear.

“I mean sure, if you want to be crass,” you mumble, still slightly embarrassed. 

“Wait, but hold on,” Shadowheart interjects, waving the hand holding the bottle. “What about the potion he slipped into your food?” Karlach’s jaw drops.

“Soldier, he spiked your food?” She sounds horrified, and you wonder why it didn’t upset you as much as it probably should have. 

“Listen, I know it sounds bad, but I don’t think it was that sinister. It was a charm person potion, which to my understanding isn’t super potent,” you say as an excuse, but the words ring hollow even to your own ears. You’re not sure you fully understand the effects yourself.

“And what does it do, exactly? I can never keep track of these new potions they keep coming out with,” Karlach asks, and you pull out your phone. You type ‘effects of charm person potion’ into Google and look at the results.

Rhetsim’s Charm Person Potion:  Instantly make yourself irresistible to anyone!  Subdue any who might hold hostility toward you and  make yourself just a dash more charming to them. Effects last for one hour. Potential side effects include dizziness, nausea, and the  drinker might know they’ve been charmed after the effects wear off.

You frown at your phone, possibly even more confused than ever. 

“It seems like the primary effect is to make the drinker... less hostile? I had never shown him any hostility - well, at least not after the first time we slept together.” You chew on your lip, and Shadowheart scoffs.

“Come off it, Tav, you’re constantly hostile towards him,” she cackles and you scowl.

“He still could’ve just talked to me first,” you grumble, unwilling to admit that she’s right. Karlach and Shadowheart speak over each other in enthusiastic agreement.

“Oh absolutely, 100%, he definitely should have.”

“Besides, what kind of damage could I possibly do? Look at me, I’m not very threatening.” You gesture at your 5’2” frame and Karlach laughs.

“Anyone could be threatening enough with a stake,” Shadowheart shrugs and takes a sip of the beer before remembering she doesn’t like it with a face.

“Sorry, what?” Karlach’s mouth is agape, and Shadowheart looks at you apologetically.

“Shit, sorry, do people not know?”

“I genuinely have no idea, I don’t know why it took me so long to get it. I feel like it’s pretty obvious the second you notice the signs,” you laugh. It’s not like he works very hard to hide the bite mark on his neck.

“So Cardigan’s a vampire... huh, I feel like that explains a lot,” Karlach says and you can see her mentally cataloging the same things you did when you first found out. “I guess I can’t blame him for being cautious. We can’t help who we are. Or what’s been done to us.” Karlach’s eyes grow glassy and suddenly she’s very far away. Clive leaves his post at Shadowheart’s side and immediately goes over to Karlach, licking her face. She comes back to reality and laughs into his fur, giving him chin skritches.

“So what’s next for you two?” Karlach asks, setting her beer on the table so she can pet Clive with both hands. “You both want to get freaky, but you just need to talk more?” Shadowheart makes a face of distaste.

“I mean what do you two actually know about each other? How many conversations have you had that weren’t just foreplay?” she asks, and you open your mouth to protest, but quickly close it again.

She’s right. You can’t think of a single conversation that you’ve had with him that wasn’t brimming with sexual tension. The closest you’ve gotten was when you taught his class, but even then you only kept it in check for the sake of the students.

“Quick, what’s the unsexiest date you can possibly think of?” you ask suddenly.

“The museum?” Karlach asks, and Shadowheart looks at her coquettishly.

“I don’t know, I think the museum is pretty romantic,” she says, her voice bordering on a purr. Karlach’s ears flush a violent purple and you clear your throat for the second time that night to remind them of your presence.

“Maybe bowling?” Shadowheart suggests, completely disaffected by the puddle she just reduced Karlach into.

“That’s not a bad idea,” you muse. “It would help if you two were there. Then you can also give me your more candid opinions,” you offer, and Karlach pulls herself together.

“Ooh, group date! I can invite Wyll!” she says excitedly.

“I don’t want him to feel like a fifth wheel,” you say, scrunching your nose as you think. “I suppose I could invite Gale, that wouldn’t be weird, right?”

“No way, the more the merrier!” Karlach lights up while Shadowheart gives you a tight-lipped look. She knows about the weirdness that Gale has caused in your relationship with Astarion, but she refrains from saying anything, at least for now.

“Gods, I haven’t been bowling in ages,” Karlach says, fully oblivious to the silent exchange between you and Shadowheart.

Your phone lights up with a text from Astarion. Your heart leaps into your throat - you don’t think he’s ever texted you before. Karlach and Shadowheart both crane their necks nosily.

You swipe open your phone to see a picture of His Majesty gnawing on the corner of a heavily scratched and chewed 48 Laws of Power.

-He agrees with you on the merits of this book.

You let out a sudden laugh that causes Clive to jump slightly. You turn your phone around to show them the picture.

“Oh my gods, is that his cat?” Karlach giggles, and Shadowheart rolls her eyes.

“Looks like a weird little rat,” she says, and you protectively take your phone back.

“Shut up, I think he’s cute,” you say defensively.

-Clearly he’s a man of good taste.

“Look at that smile,” Karlach hums, and Shadowheart smirks. You stick your tongue out at them and turn your attention back to your phone. You stare at the brief exchange for a moment, take a breath, then text him again.

-Do you mind if I swing by? I have thoughts too big for text messages.

-Most thoughts are. You’re most welcome to.

“I’m going to head out, I wanna go talk to him before it gets too late,” you tell them, hoisting yourself to stand.

“Aww, c’mon, we’re having a great time!” Karlach whines.

“Yeah, and I haven’t finished my beer,” Shadowheart adds, holding up the full bottle.

“Well, Shads, if you wanna stick around, I can always drive you home later,” Karlach says, her voice heavy with suggestion. 

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint,” you laugh, holding up your hands. They both make halfhearted protestations. “Stay safe, you two. Shade, text me when you get home. You know, whenever that might be,” you wink and head out the door. It’s barely closed behind you when you hear the telltale smacks of kissing.

***

You’re unsurprised when he opens the door before you get a chance to knock. Your heart is threatening to jump out of your chest and he’s expecting you. You feel something clench deep in your core when you see him. Hair slightly tousled from a long day, top few buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up just past the elbows. He looks like he could’ve just stepped off the cover of a GQ magazine.

“Come in,” he waves you inside, and you can see the eviscerated copy of the book still lying on the floor. His Majesty is curled up a few feet away, purring contentedly. You sit on the couch, resisting the urge to curl your knees up into your chest.

“Would you like me to sit beside you, or...?” he asks vaguely, and you gesture to the spot on the couch next to you.

“No, please, sit, it’s your home. You should at least be comfortable,” you laugh without much humor. He sits stiffly, almost like he’s afraid to spook you.

“So what are these ‘big thoughts’ you’re having?” he asks, and you force yourself to look at him, despite your discomfort.

“Being with you feels... different... than anyone else I’ve ever been with,” you begin slowly, and he watches you intently. “And I had a hard time dealing with that. And no matter how good you make me feel, it was outweighed by these feelings of disgust and loathing I had for myself. 

“The reason why I was so mad that night after the theatre, besides the fact that it was tailor-made to piss me off-” you throw him an accusatory glance and he shrinks from your gaze. You soften. “Sorry, I-”

“No, don’t apologize,” he says quickly. “Please, go on.” You take a deep breath and continue.

“Because even that was proof that you know me better than I know myself. I couldn’t let myself fully succumb because I was worried about what it would say about me, as a person.

“I’ve never been with someone who is so completely attuned to what my body wants that they know things before I do. And that’s cool! And, like, also terrifying? Almost like there was a conversation happening without me.” Astarion shifts uncomfortably. 

“So, anyway...” you finish lamely, not wanting to say anything else before you give him a chance to respond. His red eyes are round and watery, his brow canted upward into an expression of concern. After a moment, he speaks.

“You are the most expressive person I’ve ever met,” he starts quietly, and you almost need to lean forward in order to hear him better. “You wear your heart proudly on your sleeve, and that’s something I admire about you. I’ve never been very good at genuinely expressing emotions, even before...” he trails off, but the meaning is clear. Before he was turned.

“I’ve carefully constructed the persona that I show to the world. Centuries of crafting the person people see me to be so that I’m always in control. And you saw right through that. Immediately. And I believe you hated me because you could see how disingenuous I was at all times.”

“I didn’t hate-” you start to say and he looks at you over the top of his glasses pointedly. “Okay, well. I think that was as much about me as it was about you, if not more.”

“And because I’ve spent so many years desperately trying to control how people see me,” he continues in spite of your interruption, “I find it rather freeing when I have the privilege of controlling you. I’m able to stop worrying about myself for once, and just focus my energy on you.” 

His lip quivers and he takes a shaky breath. “That only works, I suppose, if you want me to take control. I thought you did. I’m so deeply sorry.” He looks away from you.

“But that’s the thing,” you place your hand on his chest to call his attention back to you. You feel a flutter of motion, his blood moving slowly through his unbeating heart. 

“That’s the thing,” you repeat yourself softly, your gaze fixed on the point of contact. “I did. I do. Want that.” Your eyes flit up to his face. “I’m just... coming to terms with it.”

The two of you sit together for a moment, your hand pressed to his chest, until his skin has absorbed its warmth and they’ve reached the same temperature.

“It’s just nice to not have to think for a bit,” you finally say, pulling your hand back into your lap and he lets out a small shudder at the loss of contact. “To let my brain go blank. To not have to make a decision. To just... be.” The words feel new even to your own ears. Without thinking, you kick off your shoes so you can bring your knees up into your chest. 

You look back up at him, your expression suddenly cold and serious.

“But I need to know I can trust you, Astarion.”

The two of you stare at one another for longer than you can count. He finally breaks your trance with a steady nod.

“I understand. And I’m willing to do what it takes to earn that trust.” He hesitates, then takes off his glasses to really look at you. “You... you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

“I do too. More than anything,” you respond quickly, and you see the tension in his brow melt away.

“And maybe what ‘real’ looks like, at least for now,” he says, his voice much more steady, “is to be together without sleeping together, for as long as you need.” You sit back on your heels and chuckle.

“You know, that almost sounds like a challenge,” you say a little breathlessly. You want nothing more than to tear at his button down, for him to flip you on your back and to fuck you mercilessly. But he’s right. If this is going to be real, whatever that means, then you need to discover what the relationship is outside of sex. And more importantly, you need to figure out what exactly it is that you want, and how to communicate it.

“You don’t need to figure it out all on your own, you know,” he says, and you snap your attention back to him.

“You did it again. That thing where you’re basically reading my mind,” you pout slightly, but soften at his sheepish grin.

“I told you, you’re very expressive.”

The two of you sit in silence again, and you wiggle your toes absentmindedly against the goldenrod couch cushion.

“I probably shouldn’t ask if I can kiss you,” you murmur, paraphrasing his words from the other day.

“Whatever it is that you want, darling,” he says, and you look up at him mischievously. 

“Well you tell me, you’re the expert. What do I want?” you taunt, feeling emboldened by the conversation. He smiles dangerously. Suddenly his hand is twisted into your hair, holding you but not pulling, and his lips graze the sensitive skin below your ear.

“I can think of a few things, love,” he purrs, his nose tickling your earlobe and his fangs barely scraping your artery. Your breath hitches and you shiver audibly. You let your body arch into him, yearning for contact. He lets out a low chuckle. “But perhaps what you need is a different story.”

He holds your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger and kisses you gently. Your hands move to cup his face, your left pinky lightly skating over his scar. He breaks the kiss but keeps your face close to his as you steady your breathing.

“I hate it when you’re right,” you rasp in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Something you’ll have to get used to, I’m afraid.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and lets you go. Your mind flits back to the conversation with Shadowheart and Karlach. You need to have an opportunity to get to know him in an environment where you won’t end up like this, barely able to keep your hands off one another.

“Do you want to go bowling?” you ask, and he blinks at the sudden shift in tone.

“What?”

“Bowling. With Shadowheart and Karlach, and some other friends. And me, of course,” you mumble the last part, almost embarrassed by the instinct to clarify.

“I- I suppose. I don’t know if I’ve ever been,” he says with a frown, and you suppress a laugh.

“You’ve never been bowling?” you ask incredulously. He glares at you.

“Can you possibly imagine me in a bowling alley?” he scoffs, and the laughter bubbles out of you. You break down into a fit of giggles at the mental image of someone as refined and sophisticated as Astarion in a dingy, sticky-floored bowling alley.

“Alright, you’ve made your point,” he mutters and playfully pushes your face away. Your giggles eventually subside, and the two of you are back to sitting in slightly awkward silence.

“I should probably leave,” you finally say with a sigh, slipping on your shoes. He nods and stands up to walk you to the door. You linger for a moment longer in the threshold.

“Yes, darling?” he asks as though you have more to say. You do. So much more. But the words are swirling around your head in a jumbled mess, and you couldn’t make sense of them even if you wanted to.

“Nothing. I’m just... thinking.”

“I’ve noticed, you’ve been doing that a lot these days.”

You scrunch your face in annoyance and he smiles. He kisses your forehead again, and you lean into his touch. You look up at him and your breath catches in your throat, and before you can stop yourself you’ve flung your arms around his neck and started kissing him hard. He presses his hand into your lower back and you whimper into his lips. You finally wrench yourself away, panting, and you admire his puffy lips and dazed expression.

“Right. Bowling. I’ll text you,” you say breathlessly.

“Bowling. I... look forward to it.” The lie makes his voice sound stilted. You flash him one last smile and tear yourself away from his doorway before you do something you regret.k

[roach-works]

As A Queer who’s made it in the trades, do you have any advice for other Queers, visible or not, to breaking into the sector?

i don't have any advice for women other than shoot your shot and be brave, because every workplace ive ever been in SAYS they want more women but oh gee women just don't APPLY, but if you look like a guy you just show up, don't pick fights, and let people assume whatever they assume.

if you've never had factory experience before you can either lie or make up a dad who taught you lots of home improvement projects or focus on the physical aspects of other jobs that left you with plenty of experience in packing, handling, basic tool use, forklift driving, truck loading, etc. if you want an actual trade skill you should look up college and trade school classes, or see if you can join a union and get classes from a union hall, or, again, lie your way in.

like. so many young men in the trades are so so bad at their jobs, it's expected that every now and then a dumbass on too many drugs is hired and he breaks important things and turns up late and falls asleep somewhere weird for awhile before getting fired again. ive watched at least eight of these men cycle through my factory in the last year. the last one ran over a welding machine with a truck before breaking his leg by dropping a beam on himself and then quitting because he wasn't getting paid enough (mood). so like if you show up and are a dumbass that arrives on time, works late, cleans up their area, and doesn't break anything too expensive, and doesn't mysteriously vanish after a month, you have a good shot at keeping your position forever. im genuinely not very good at my job and at least one guy everywhere i work hates me for being a mouthy little fag, but the state of the trades is that if you're not actively on drugs and fire and trying to punch your boss, you probably get to keep your job indefinitely.

my other advice is: if you're trans, and you work in manufacturing, do your best to pass and never admit you're trans. things get bad weird, very fast, and you're surrounded by big guys with power tools. you don't have to pass very well, because the trades are full of a wide variety of the weirdest men in the world and almost none of them have a functional gaydar, but you do have to at minimum not volunteer the information that you're trans.

like. you can if you want. the results will be educational. but no one will be learning anything they wanted to know from this event.

EDIT: start working out though. you NEED to be able to safely lift 30-40lb to start out with and 50-100+ is ideal. if you can't carry around 50 lb for at least a short ways (on and off trucks, on and off tables, on and off dollys) you're risking throwing your back out which is a lifelong bigtime problem. make sure you can lift, bro!

[theblankstar]

Finally, the long awaited, long ass head canon post!

Addair:

•He may not like the unions very much, but he's more than willing to listen to Trots whenever he starts rambling about them. He knows nobody else does, so he's always there.

•A pretty decent cook. While he isn't Roy level, he knows exactly how to handle himself in a kitchen. He can make simple dishes, but they're never bad.

•Cannot drive to save the life of himself. He failed his driver's test every time he attempted it. Do not put him in a car, he will crash it. And he will blame the car itself.

•A great hugger. Not even joking. He may not seem like the type for affection, but get close to him and he will become the most affectionate person out there.

Alex:

•Band kid. He played percussion and trumpet back in high school. He can only vaguely remember notes and music, but he is more than willing to re-learn it for the crew.

•Loves urban exploring. His hometown is full of abandoned places, and with that, comes a natural curiosity and drawing towards them.

•Absolutely loves loud music. He will eat that shit up. He loves rock as well, rock and hardcore metal. Put him at a KISS or The Smashing Pumpkins show, and he will fan girl.

•Not the best at math. While he was good at it for a period of time, he eventually reached a state in which he could not do it anymore.

Archie:

•Accident-Prone. Archie has broken his bones one too many times while attempting to do something. While he knows the danger of this, he really doesn't care and just sees it as a test to his will.

•Likes dystopian novels. He can be found sitting in his cabin reading one before bed every night. Of course, he tries his hardest to keep them hidden, but he will ramble when someone asks about them.

•Gets upset easily. While he is understanding, when something doesn't have an expected outcome, he will get upset. He won't have a meltdown, but you can see his face turn red and him looking like he will cry.

•Went to a private school as a child. Archie wanted to be an engineer originally, so his parents had enrolled him into a private school meant for the rich. He gave up that dream.

Banky:

•Has sensitive hearing. He heard things ten times louder than what they're originally supposed to be. It makes him get really upset when he can't find somewhere quiet.

•Has lots of burn scars on his hands from welding. While he does try to be cautious, Cadal probably didn't buy the proper gloves for welders, so Banky has scars on his hands from where the sparks got him.

•Prefers to be alone. Banky has barely any friends on the rig, because of his usually quiet personality- and the fact he just preferred to be alone since it was silent most of the time.

•Was raised by his grandparents. Banky grew up not with his parents, but with his grandparents. They taught him everything about welding and how to fend for himself.

Billy Chamberlain:

•Was good friends with Caz back in their younger years. They drifted apart and forgot each other after Billy had to move away for his parents work reasons.

•Not typically violent, but not afraid to stand his ground. He believed that what he was saying was right, which prompted him to get socked in the face by Caz.

•After the Beira D explosion, he took money out of his own pockets to pay for the funeral and burial expenses. This is when he remembered who Caz was, and what they used to be.

•Smokes a lot. Billy grew up around a lot of businessmen who smoked, prompting him to begin as well, since it was so normalized. He's toned it down now, but has 1-2 a day.

Boyd:

•Used to preform back in Scotland. He would grab his best instrument, typically a lyre, and he would play in the streets. He was really good at the lyre, at that. So it drew crowds.

•Usually more logical than emotional. He tries to approach certain situations with empathy towards a person and their issues, but this is taken over by his main trait; being apathetic.

•Boyd finds it hard to relate to people on the rig. He physically cannot bring himself to be put in someone else's shoes, even if it meant being able to understand and help them better.

•Absolutely hates warm climate. He moved from more Western areas after going to boarding school, and he hated how hot it felt down there. He swore he would never go back down there.

Brodie:

•Has a phobia of heights. He never knew what it was, but being so high up above the ground had always terrified him. So when he started working on the rig, he refused, and I mean, refused to look down.

•Prefers the company of reptiles than mammals. Yes, he does love cats and dogs, but reptiles has always been his absolute favorite. He has a pet chameleon back at home named Green Bean.

•Very confident in his own abilities. Brodie believes that if he can be confident in being able to do something, he would be able to do it easier. This has been his mindset for a while now.

•Cannot sing. When he attempts to sing, it sounds like a broken record that cannot be spun back. He has been told numerous times to get off of the singing stage.

Bruce:

•Hates mashed potatoes. While he does love a good fry or baked potato, he refuses to eat them mashed. This is because once a bug had flown into his food, he ate it, and got sick.

•Good friends with a member of Cadal. He hasn't told anyone about it because they would rip his head off, but he does have a friend within the board that gives him things from time to time.

•Has two brothers. Both of them are enlisted into the army, and therefore, not around usually. He takes care of the house/his parents when they're both not around to do it.

•Visually impaired. He's completely blind in one eye, and losing his vision in the other. He planned on retiring from the rig life so that he could take it easy at home.

Caz:

•Can dance pretty well. He's a huge disco baby, and will groove out to any song he finds catchy. He dances by himself usually, but if Suze or one of his weans are around, he dances with them.

•He lets his daughters dress him up as a pretty princess or a fairy. He will sot there for hours as his girls smear make-up across his face, or put him in the most outlandish outfits possible.

•Used to do track in high school. Caz is a pretty fast runner, so it is no surprise that he used to do track before he graduated. He was actually the best runner in the school.

•Wears knee/arm/leg/elbow braces before working. Caz tends to work in confined/dangerous spaces, prompting him to wear braces in order to protect his own skin from danger.

Dalgleish:

•Oldest of his family. Dalgleish has many family members, due to the fact his family tree is large and very expansive. He does have older cousins and such, but in his family he is the oldest.

•Hates pancakes and waffles. You will not ever catch him eating them. He says they're too fluffy and puffy for his liking, and that he would rather eat bugs than them.

•Very open-minded. He knows the works of the world, and he does have his own opinions on things, but he is more than willing to look at something in another perspective, even if it doesn't seem right.

•A hopeless romantic. Dalgleish, once he's fallen in love with someone, is practically hopeless to save. He's all over the person, giving them the upmost affection and treasure possible.

Davros:

•Was the weird kid back in school. Davros always kept to himself back in his school days, and liked things that other people didn't like, labeling him as a weird child.

•Has lots of surgery scars. Davros was never a careful child, and always ended up putting himself in some kind of danger. Even now, as an adult, he's still beyond reckless. Hence, he has a lot of surgery scars.

•Loves to go skydiving. He may not seem like the type of person for adventure, but he absolutely loves to go skydiving. Specifically, in the early morning or late evening.

•Has decent handwriting. While it isn't perfect, at least it is readable. He's been trying to make his signature look better, but he can't help to put some letters in cursive, and others in comic sans font.

Dobbie:

•He has hypersomnia. Dobbie can sleep through anything and everything you throw at him. Another crew member has to wake him up each morning to ensure he won't sleep through his shift.

•Really good at making jokes. He may not seem like the type of person to have any sort of humor, but he can always lighten up a room with an awful joke or two.

•He crashed a lawnmower into the neighbor's fence, and then proceeded to blame it on the dog. Mind you, Dobbie has never had a dog a day in his life, and only saw them in books and magazines.

•Very generous person. He's always giving back to people he loves and cares about. He manages to do things with a smile, and give things away he knows he'll miss.

Douglas:

•Douglas almost died from drinking coffee one time. He drunk cup after cup that morning, and proceeded to faint when trying to do his job. There is now a limit on the amount of coffee a person can have.

•He's a horrible liar. For some reason, he cannot bring himself to lie to somebody over something petty and small. However, if it's something that could get him fired, he becomes even worse at hiding it.

•He has horrible long-term memory, but impeccable short-term memory. He can remember something in two seconds flat if it happened recently, but if it's something that happened a while ago? Yeah good luck.

•Absolutely hated science in high school. He had attempted to do an experiment with chemicals, and ended up blowing the whole lab up. He is still paying off that debt.

Dunbar:

•A heavy sleepwalker. He once walked all the way to the pontoons, and ended up just floating on his back the entire night in the water. To say it was surprising to see he was still alive the next morning.

•Cannot stand being alone/by himself. Dunbar gets paranoid easily when it's just him by himself. He'll begin to murmur and mumble about how terrified he is of whatever is going on.

•He has an older sister. One time, when they were kids, his sister picked him up and spun him around on her shoulders. She ended up tripping and Dunbar fell out of the second-story window.

•He hates going to the doctor's office. Dunbar is terrified of needles, making him absolutely hate whenever he has to get a check-up. He has to be forced to go.

Finlay:

•Finlay almost drowned in a river as a child. She doesn't have a fear of water, but sees it as a challenge now. She will literally kick water if it meant she can challenge it.

•Her nails are extremely bitten. She chews on them when she gets nervous, causing them to be practical stubs. It's a bad habit of hers that she cannot let go.

•She once stole a lollipop when she was five years old at a supermarket, and to this day she still feels guilty about it. She wanted to return it ten years later, bur thought she'd get arrested.

•She drives a motorcycle on the mainland. She can do just about any trick on it, and is involved in her local biker gang. Despite this, she's actually really fun to be around.

Gibbo:

•Really likes the color pink. Since he is a mama's boy, he's always been surrounded by various objects that were in the hue spectrum of pink. He adores the color.

•He gets nightmares every night of his mother's death. He refuses to sleep unless being reassured by someone he loves that everything is going to be alright.

•Gibbo gives his significant other a shiny rock he loves. If he has no shiny rock on hand, he will ramble to them about bugs and insects of the such. He'll even show them the ones on the rig.

•While Gibbo is portrayed as the stupider one in his friend group of Trots and O'Connor (and does stupid things sometimes), he's actually very intelligent if you're being serious with him.

Gregor:

•Very socially awkward. Gregor cannot handle himself in certain situations where he is working with a large group of people. He tends to get nervous and cry when things get too stressful.

•Prefers to be alone. Gregor doesn't mind working with one or two people, but believes his best work comes from being alone. He works much more efficiently when alone.

•Hates salt. He cannot stand anything that's salty or tastes even mildly salty. He will quite literally spit it out in the trash and glare at the person who gave it to him if he tastes it.

•Mama's boy. Gregor, much like Gibbo, grew up without a father and therefore, has an incredibly strong bond with his mother. He's also very empathetic because of this.

Henderson:

•Very lucky. Henderson seems to win at just about every game, every gamble, everything. He has incredible luck when it comes to almost anything, and this luck has saved him one to many times.

•Really likes softer and more gentle music than loud and brash ones. Tunes like The Ink Spots, Tears for Fears, and the Carpenters really are his favorites when it comes to music.

•Cannot stand the smell of smoke. Henderson gets sick easily, and therefore, cannot be around certain things. He hates, hates, hates. The smell of smoke and fire, it makes him sick.

•Prefers tea over coffee. Henderson likes tea more than he likes coffee, and this is due to the taste. Tea tastes much better to Henderson than that of coffee. "Less sweet" he says.

Innes:

•More of a dog person than a cat person. His family owned several dogs throughout his life, so he had a particular fondness towards them. He can easily tell if a dog is mixed bred or not.

•Grew up in the suburbs. He's never lived out in the country, and frankly, never enjoyed it either. The over all suburbs and their whole feeling of being surrounded by a community comforts him.

•Loves to go fishing, but cannot stand to go hunting. The quietness and the stillness of life when it comes to fishing calms and soothes him. He loves to sit in his boat for hours, and catch and release, over and over.

•Hated the ocean. As a kid, Innes couldn't stand the ocean. The vastness and what lied beneath those waves always scared him. He refused to step anywhere near it, and just watched from afar.

Kelly:

•Very loud. Kelly's voice is naturally loud and brash, you can hear him from practically anywhere on the rig. While he doesn't speak much, when he does, it echoes.

•Played the drums before. Kelly used to be in a rock band before coming to work on the rig. He quit mainly due to it no longer being his choice of a profession, but thinks about it every now and then.

•Can see in the dark extremely well. Due to a genetic mutation, he can see incredibly well in dimly-lit areas, prompting him to work the nightshift singularly.

•Grew up in Greece. Kelly isn't Scottish, Irish, or English. He's actually Greek. His family moved to Scotland in search of better job and working opportunities, taking Kelly with them.

Mary:

•Never cusses. She's the last person anybody would expect to curse for any reason at all. If she does end up letting it slip, she's either extremely pissed or just tired.

•Worked in a hospital for a few years. Mary worked as an anesthesiologist for a few years, before she decided to work in a retirement home and help the elderly and sick out.

•She despises cranberries. She cannot stand the taste nor texture of them. However, if someone wants them, she's more than willing to get them for that person.

•Did softball in high school. She is an excellent pitcher and hitter. She has great aim and also good coordination and calculating skills. She loves to go against people who want a friendly competition.

McLoud:

•The quietest person on the rig. He never speaks to anybody, and only communicates with his head and hand movements. He had never spoken on the rig a day in his life.

•A very creative person. You give McLoud a piece of paper, some time, and he will come back with the most creative piece you have seen. He and Innes are best friends because of it.

•Wears contacts because he hates his eye color. His eyes are naturally a greenish-yellowish color, and he absolutely hates it. He wears blue contacts every day because he prefers them more.

•At coffee beans regularly. McLoud ate coffee beans every day on the rig, and promptly got himself banned from ever going near the coffee pot ever again.

McLurg:

•Choir kid. McLurg can sing pretty well, despite his scruffy-like voice. He was a bass singer when he preformed, and could sing pretty damn low. He has lots of pictures of himself in his choir outfit.

•Has never sweated a day in his life. Due to something with his genetics, McLurg does not sweat at all. With this, he has never been able to figure out why other people say it's hot/cold out.

•Cannot tell the different between their, there, and they're. McLurg was never able to get the difference right, and still cannot for the life of himself.

•Excellent at math. If there's one thing McLurg is good at, other than his job, it'll be math. He's practically prodigy level. With that, he can solve equations in less than two seconds if he merely sees them.

Muir:

•More of a cat person than a dog person. He prefers the company of cats since they're much easier to get along with, and therefore, are arguably better than dogs.

•Grew up on the country side. He only ever went into town to help his father sell the produce they had made for the season. He always preferred the quietness of the ranch than the busy cities.

•Prefers hunting over fishing. He was never the one for stillness of life, but is always more than ready for a challenge. He hunts big game, like I'm talking moose kinda game, and he loves the adrenaline rush.

•The cosmos terrified him as a child. He never once wanted to know what was beyond their own world, in fear of discovering something that'll frighten him. Muir preferred to keep his feet on the ground, and not venture out into space.

O'Connor:

•Unlike Mary, O'Connor loves cranberries. He can sit there for hours and eat a packet of cranberries, after packet of cranberries. Mary genuinely has to stop him from eating one-hundred packs a day.

•Was a heavy smoker, but has since been able to break that habit since Mary came around. He's been on a good recovery streak ever since he met her, and vows to remain sober.

•Absolutely loves the Winter time. Mary's birthday falls in December, and by then, he's usually home from the rig to celebrate. It's also because he loves how pretty Scotland looks in the winter.

•Did wrestling back in high school. O'Connor previously wrestled in high school, and he always won every game he had went to. He was the top wrestler in the district.

Raffs:

•Can barely hear. Raffs was naturally born with poor hearing, leading to him needing hearing aids in order to understand what was going on around him. Despite this, Raffs does his best.

•Cannot stand the taste of eggs. Eggs taste beyond nasty to him, and he refuses to put any of them in his mouth to the point in which he will literally just throw them out.

•Knew Gibbo in high school. The two were the bestest of friends, until Raffs had to move. The both of them have forgotten each other by now, and have genuinely no clue of their past memories.

•Has a scrapbook. Raffs keeps a scrapbook of things he enjoys in his room. It's inside one of the drawers, and occasionally looks through it for memories sake.

Rennick:

•Divorced twice. Rennick is absolutely awful at relationships, and everyone on the rig knows it. He values the work more than a relationship, and has always had that mindset.

•Originally did not want to work for Cadal, but the money he was offered made him join. He did the best work on the rig before becoming the manager, and knows the value of what they are doing.

•Knows exactly the ins and outs of the oil rig. He's been working on the Beira D for the longest out of everyone, and had memorized every little place on it. With this, he is no one for confusion.

•Has visions of things that go wrong. He is usually on high alert because of dreams of an accident happening on the rig. Usually, they are true which makes him even more cautious.

Roper:

•Knows everyone on the rig from face alone. Roper has excellent memory, ergo, he recognizes everyone on the rig just from their face alone, and always greets them.

•Has back issues. Roper's always has trouble with his back, weither it be pain or sudden stiffness. He plans on getting it corrected somehow, because it is a real burden on him.

•Used to have two sons. Roper was married once, but since has divorced. His two sons, named Callum and Lennox respectively, have not spoken to him in a few years after the divorce.

•Got himself an intense fear of the darkness. Roper sleeps with some kind of light on in his room. The light that peers in from the moon is just enough, but also not enough. So he keeps a lamp on.

Roy:

•A natural chef. Roy was born as a natural cooker, and by heart, knows how to make the best dishes possible. He's very skilled at the craft, and just about everyone loves what he makes.

•A gentle giant. Roy may seem big and scary at first, but he's truly kind and light deep down. He gets along with everyone fairly easily, and has no issues with people.

•Has barely any enemies. Like I said, Roy is kind to just about everyone he meets, and gives everybody a chance despite what has been said about them. Barely anybody hates him.

•A big football fan. He never once played the sport himself, but he absolutely loves watching people play it. He went to every game that his high school hosted, and I mean every game.

Scooby:

•A very funny person. Scooby cracks jokes at the worst possible times, and attempts to make a situation better when it comes to that. He attempts to make everything amongst everyone happy and such.

•Awful at darts. Give him a dart and it'll end up in the window to the side somehow. He's had to pay for a lot of things on the rig because of his god awful aim.

•Grew up in the big city his whole life. Scooby grew up in the city, and therefore knows the ins and outs of them. Give him no map, but drop him somewhere, and he somehow knows where everything is.

•Went camping a lot as a child. Since Scooby was in the big city, his family and himself would go on camping trips during his breaks from school. They would do all sorts of things; fishing, hunting, swimming, etc.

Sunil:

•Sunil grew up in a wooded area. He knows a lot about the forest and what lies in it due to living here. With that being said, he can identify any plant or animal you present before him- even obscure ones.

•6'0. Sunil isn't the tallest person on the rig, but he is most definitely not the shortest person on the rig. He's the average height, and it doesn't affect him in the slightest.

•A big history nerd. Specifically, the history of biological life and how it came to be. He has tons of books in his room that just describe the origin of life itself from all over the world.

•Hates spinach. He cannot stand the flavor of it, nor how crunchy it is in his mouth. However, mix it with other flavors and make it practically masked? He'll eat it right up.

Suze:

•Was in NJROTC in high school. Both her mother and father were in the army, and she had plans to join as well. But she got a change of heart later in life for no reason.

•Writes like a doctor. Ever since she learned it from her mother, every little thing she signs looks like a doctor wrote it. You can barely read what she writes due to it.

•Curses like a sailor when she gets frustrated/upset. Suze doesn't get upset often, but when she does she tends to cuss more than usual, leading to her going into just a swearing ramble.

•Keeps a lot of mementos throughout the years. She has a whole box of keepsakes dedicated towards things she has collected throughout the years, and likes to look through it.

Trots:

•As I've mentioned in the past, Trots' father was a coal miner. Trots also wanted to follow in the man's footsteps, and even helped him out in the minds when he was a younger boy.

•The loudest person whenever he gets excited about something he is talking about. Trots will raise his voice when he's getting passionate about something he enjoys.

•Talks in his sleep. Trots can often be heard rambling about things he loves and likes in his state of resting. With this, people have literally came into his room and woken him up, to tell him to shut it.

•Almost broke his neck one time while carrying a some metal pipes to another part of the rig. Before he worked in accommodation- or rather got transferred- he was a deckhand. He almost snapped his neck from the pipes leaning against him too much.