#even as i was on my way running a bit late to spin class it felt nice talking to him and again felt like we could talk longer lol

[icantalk710]

Happy to report that spin🚲 class [and the subsequent leg day 🦵🏽😤] did in fact break several sweats (ft mooooon)

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

I was wondering if you'd write anything about Joel and free use?

Love your account babe💗

thank you so much babe, i loved this idea! i hope you enjoy my take on it. i was fantasizing about...

renting a room from joel miller and striking a deal to lower your rent.��

3.5k words 🍒warnings: explicit smut, no outbreak au, age gap (reader in college), female reader, brief mention of f masturbation, free use!!, size kink, pussy pronouns, unprotected piv, use of: sweetheart, darlin' 

click here for more of my writing

So you end up short on options for housing after breaking up with your ex. You know it seems weird to be a young woman willing to rent a room from an older man who is …well in all versions you spin it…a total stranger. But, your aunt swears he’s a good guy. 

She used to live in his neighborhood, knew his daughter, figured he has the extra room and put you in touch. And all things considered, she hasn’t led you astray. I mean, he hasn’t murdered you. 

Okay, it’s not that bad. He doesn’t give off murder vibes either. More like…grumpy single man vibes. But that works out for your arrangement. You’re both pretty quiet and you keep to yourselves. And he’s not too bad to look at. You catch yourself straddling a line between not being the creep yourself and just wanting to get to know him a little bit. 

The real problem has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. Well with your bank account. You’ve been bleeding your measly savings trying to keep up with life and the job you have isn’t really enough to live off of. It was a dream to find a hybrid schedule and work for a non-profit with a mission that matters to you. But it doesn’t pay for shit. 

It’s not like Joel’s overcharging you or anything either. Nothing is affordable. 

And now you’re on your last legs. If you can’t keep this together you’ll have to pack it up and crawl home to your family? Not an option. It’s not like you haven’t been applying for other jobs either. But you either don’t hear back or the schedule won’t work with your classes. 

So here you are. Pacing back and forth in your sparsely decorated room. Between your bed and your desk, wearing a groove into the carpet, chewing on your fingers and obsessively checking your phone to see if your sage friends have any better advice. 

They don’t. 

Well, they suggested selling feet pics online, but even if that could be lucrative—it doesn’t get you the money to spend by tomorrow. You toss yourself onto your bed, exasperated. Last resort. You’re gonna have to be honest. 

It takes a long time to gather the mental courage. You stare at your ceiling for so long your eyes blur. You can hear Joel in the kitchen and with a deep breath you force yourself up, dragging your feet down the hallway until you see him. 

The kitchen is warm, whatever he’d made for dinner earlier smells good. So good it makes your stomach growl, announcing your presence in the doorway. The sound makes you grimace—for a split second you’re tempted to hide. To run back to your room and pretend like there won’t be any consequences if you just don’t bring it up. Ever. 

Too late. He shuts the dishwasher with a loud click and turns, his sharp brown eyes meeting yours. You immediately regret this idea. Your feel like you’re sinking into the floor. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring at him now. 

“Hey,” he says gruffly, his voice low and even. He turns back away from you, putting leftovers in the fridge, like it’s no big deal you’ve been standing there silently like a weirdo. “You need something?” 

Your throat is suddenly so dry, you can barely unstick your tongue to speak. “Yeah…uh, can I talk to you for a second?” 

Joel pauses mid-motion, before shoving the last container onto the shelf and letting the fridge door shut, trapping you in the silence together. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks toward you. The way his shirt stretches across his shoulders makes you nervous for reasons you don’t want to analyze right now. 

“Sure.” 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your hands twisting in front of you like they’re trying to strangle each other. His eyes flick down to the motion, and you force yourself to stop. 

“So, uh…I was wondering—” You swallow hard. You can do it. “I need to talk to you about my rent.” 

His eyebrows lift, and your chest tightens. 

“Let’s hear it then.” 

“It’s just that I’m in kind of a tight spot right now. Work’s been���well, it’s been fine but money’s tight, and I just—” You’re rambling. Words all running together. “I’m not saying you’re charging too much or anything like that, but—” 

“Slow down,” Joel holds up a hand, and the rest of your words fall flat. His voice is calm, but firm. “You sayin’ you can’t afford it?” 

“I can!” you blurt out. “I mean, I can’t by tomorrow, but I can soon. I just thought, maybe we could work something out. Like…if you could give me some more time or if I could do something to work off some of what I owe.” Joel tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that makes your skin prickle. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just thinking, and the silence stretches too long for comfort. 

Finally, he exhales through his nose, dropping his arms and leaning his palms on the counter behind him. His voice is lower when he speaks again, quieter, like he’s weighing every word. 

“You wanna do something for me?” 

Your heart skips, and you blink up at him. Maybe that was a dumb suggestion. You don’t even know what you have to offer. The house is always clean, the yard maintained, he seems to enjoy cooking. 

“Uh, yeah?” your face contorts a little as you try and come up with a suggestion. “If you’d consider giving me a discount.” 

His lips twitch, just the barest hint of a smirk, and something about it makes the air in the room shift. 

“Well,” he drawls, “If I’m cuttin’ you a deal,---” 

“You’ll consider it?” You look at him with a smile already starting to break on your face. You can breathe. 

“Maybe you can cut me one, too.” He finishes his sentence. Your mouth hangs open, but nothing comes out. There’s something behind his words you don’t fully understand, but it’s stuck in the air between you. 

“What kind of deal?” you manage to get out, your voice hesitant. 

Joel pushes off the counter, closing the space between you in a way that’s casual, but calculated. He’s close enough you can make out the lines at the corners of his eyes, the salt-and-pepper in his beard. His gaze holds yours, steady and charged with something new. 

“You say yes,” he starts to explain, his voice dropping into a gravelly timbre that makes your pulse quicken. “And I’ll knock your rent down as much as you need. Simple.” 

The room suddenly feels small, too warm, like his gravity is holding you in place. 

“Say yes to what, Mr. Miller?” Your voice is soft, just a whisper rolling off your tongue. You have an idea what he’s proposing. The way his eyes flicker with something dark and knowing when you refer to him as Mr. Miller. The crackle in the air between you. 

“I think you know what I mean.” 

You shake your head, ever so subtly, wrinkling a brow. In what feels like slow motion, Joel tips your chin up, between his thumb and curled forefinger. Your face is on fire. Somehow exposed even though nothing else has changed. 

“Whenever I need you. Wherever I want you.” 

For a second you think he might kiss you. It feels like everything in your body is calling to him. His mouth is so close to yours. The words are still replaying in your mind. 

But he pulls his hand back. “Think about it,” he murmurs and brushes past you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body. He glances back at you once on his way out of the room. “Offer’s on the table, sweetheart,” he says over his shoulder. “Up to you.” 

You’re left standing, still as a stone, heat prickling up your spine as his words replay in your head. 

What the fuck just happened?

“Hey!” you call out, starting down the hall after Joel. “Wait.” 

He turns, hovering in the doorway to his room. 

“Uh, are you talking about sex?” 

“Yep.” 

Your breath hitches. The corner of his mouth quirks, smug. You look at him with fresh eyes. He’s an attractive guy. Not exactly pleasant, but not a jerk. You can’t imagine he’d have a hard time picking up a date. 

“I’m not a whore, you know.” “I know, darlin’.” His face softens a little. 

The next couple of days are filled with tension so thick it’s impossible to ignore. Whenever you’re in the same room you can feel his eyes lingering on you. He brushes past you in the kitchen in the morning, his hand grazing your hip when he reaches for his coffee mug. 

You catch him watching you from across the room, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. His eyes roam all over your body, dark and deliberate, and you can feel the promise in his gaze. 

It’s driving you fucking insane. You thought he’d have made a move by now. Hell, you thought he’d have made a move the second you agreed to his deal. But he’d only made sure you each had a few ground rules and that was it. End of conversation. 

“Have a good night now, darlin’. Hope you sleep better without having to worry about your rent.” 

Right. You didn’t have to worry about rent. You just had to spiral in your own room wondering when it would happen. How he’s going to take you.

It’s got you so worked up thinking about him you keep spacing out during your work meetings. Swiveling restlessly on your office chair in your bedroom, trying to remember to look focused and add your two cents in for participation. 

But all you can think about is Joel. You’re on high alert whenever you hear his truck roll into the driveway, the door slamming shut with a thud. His heavy steps coming down the hall. You wonder when he’ll want you. You know he meant it. 

You hope he meant it. 

That night, his footsteps pause outside your door, his presence thick in the air, setting your pulse racing. It makes you squirm, adjusting the skimpy pajamas you’ve taken to wearing as your heart beats faster. You can’t tell if he’s debating coming in or if he’s just fucking with you, but it’s got you breathless. 

The next morning, you’re standing in the bathroom doorway, brushing your teeth when Joel suddenly appears, shirtless and still damp from his shower. He gives you a lazy once-over, stepping close enough that you have to press yourself against the door frame to let him pass. 

His voice is low and teasing as he murmurs, “You’re in the way, sweetheart,” leaving your cheeks flaming. 

The next day, you’re still tense. 

Stretching in your desk chair as your coworkers read through their budget updates and data tracking for the grants you’re funded through. It’s hard to stay focused, Joel has taken over all of your thoughts. 

Jaz finishes her update and another department leads the rest of the meeting. You’re shuffling your notes around mindlessly, barely hearing a word. Every thought in your head is Joel, Joel, Joel.

Last night, you’d nearly combusted when he finally walked away from your door. You’d been seconds from begging him to come in, to just take you already. By the time he left, your thighs were slick, and the ache was unbearable. You had to handle it yourself, coming hard and fast on your fingers, imagining it was his thick, calloused hands instead.

But now, twelve hours later, the tension is already back. Worse than before. Every noise in the house puts you on edge. His truck rumbling into the driveway. The front door shutting. 

The meeting drags on, voices fading into a blur—until a soft knock jolts you back to reality. 

Before you can answer, the door swings open, and Joel steps inside like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the fact that you’re clearly in the middle of something.

Your heart races. Your eyes flick to your camera to make sure it’s off. Muted. Thank God.

Joel doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a smirk that makes your stomach flip. His dark eyes roam over you, slow and deliberate, and it’s like every molecule of air has been sucked out of the room.

He takes his time crossing the space between you, letting the silence stretch. You can feel the heat radiating off him as he crowds you, hands bracing the arms of your chair, caging you in.

“You gonna tell me to stop?” he drawls, his voice low and gravelly.

Your throat is so tight you can’t even speak. You shake your head.

Joel’s smirk deepens. “That’s what I thought.”

His big hands tug you to the edge of your chair, spreading your knees wide. He runs his palms along your thighs, leaving a trail of heat that burns your skin through your soft leggings. 

Your heart jumps to your throat, chest tight. 

The thought of your coworkers just a click away only heightens the thrill. 

Joel doesn’t hold back. Pulling you to stand. Turning you to face your desk and pressing until you lean your elbows on the smooth surface, framing your keyboard. 

You arch your spine eagerly, holding your breath, bracing for his next move. He smooths a palm over the curve of your ass, humming softly to himself, before slipping his hand between your legs. 

You tilt your head, a shaky breath escaping as his fingers press against you, making your thighs tremble. You know he can feel how wet you already are through the thin material. All day you’re wet for him, just waiting and waiting. 

His touch is firm and you grind into it without thinking, making him laugh under his breath. “Shit,” he murmurs. “She needs it worse than I do, huh?” You don’t answer. Just dropping your head between your shoulder blades as he rubs circles against your clothed pussy. 

He retracts his hand, swiftly pulling your leggings down, exposing your puffy, wet folds to the cooler air. 

You stay folded over, forehead resting on your desk, ass arched in presentation. You don’t know what to expect next, your pulse thunders in your ear as you wait. 

His hands frame your cunt, spreading you wider so he can look closer. You’d be self-conscious being studied so closely if you were any less desperate for him to touch you. But all you can do you is silently beg him to do something. 

“Christ,” he murmurs reverently, dropping to his knees behind you. “Just a taste first.” It sounds like he’s talking to himself. You don’t care. 

You gasp sharply the second his tongue dips between your swollen lips. It’s so much better than your fingers and your frustrated, rushed orgasms last night. It’s so much better. 

He uses his whole face, diving deeper, as he groans into your pussy. Your meeting is still in progress, but the voices coming through your speakers could be speaking a foreign language. They mean nothing to you right now. 

The only thing that matters is between your legs. You’re almost embarrassed at how close you already are. You don’t know if you should say anything. If he cares if he makes you cum. Before you can think any harder, he’s back on his feet and you’re whimpering at the loss. 

“I know.” 

The soft clink of his belt followed by the sound of him unzipping his jeans has your knees weak. The thrill that shoots through you is like lightning, ripping through your system and activating every nerve in your body. 

Be good," he growls, dragging his cock through your slick.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the awe and the relief. The heat, the thickness, the pressure. It’s everything you need, but not enough at the same time. He continues for a moment, coating his length in your arousal as you try to swallow down your needy moans. 

He slots his blunt tip at your entrance, adding enough pressure to make you suck in air. Without even seeing it, you know it’s going to be a stretch. Like he can read your mind, or at least your body, he runs his hand soothingly over your spine. 

It shouldn’t melt your nerves so fast, but the gentle touch eases your mind. For reasons you can’t explain—feelings really, you feel safe. 

“We’ll start slow this time, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” 

And then he’s nudging into you, working you open around his wide cockhead. It’s mildly uncomfortable, but you welcome the dull ache. Your throbbing pussy has been begging for it. He pulls back, repeating the slow movement, splitting you open for him a little further each time. 

It makes you needy, you try to push back against him, but he only swats at your ass. “I told ya to be good.” 

Your cheeks feel hot at the scolding. 

“Sorry, Mr. Miller.” It comes out more confident than you expected, your voice smooth and low. 

You can feel the way his dick twitches at your response before he continues, painstakingly slowly, filling you up. You’re still frustrated, but each time he thrusts into you, your knees almost buckle and you know he hasn’t made it all the way in yet. You’re still hungry for that feeling, for his hips to meet your ass, flush. 

You can’t hold back your moans as he drags along your nerves. He already has your eyes rolling back and he’s not even fucking you yet. 

Until he stops, held still halfway inside of you. You blink your eyes open, trying not to whine. 

He says your name like he’s been calling it and you’ve been ignoring him. “Hmm?” you respond. 

“Think they’re waiting for your answer.” 

“Oh, shit.” 

Joel still doesn’t move. You unmute your mic, trying to steady your voice. “I’m really sorry, uh, can you repeat the question?” 

“Just confirming your mid-cycle reports are already submitted.” 

“Yes.” 

“Great.” 

You mute the mic again and Joel slams the rest of the way home, making you cry out in surprise. 

He doesn’t hold back now, his rough hand gripping your hip as he takes you, low grunts echoing in your room as he snaps his hips forward. Your ass ripples, bouncing off of him with every thrust and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin fill your ears. 

He hits so fucking deep at this angle, you can barely think. His balls slap against you and for some reason that makes you even more crazy for him. You meet his every thrust with the same energy, fucking hard. So hard your desk rattles, but neither of you can be bothered by it’s structural integrity. 

He keeps you on edge, pounding into you as the pressure builds. When you shift slightly, his cock drags over the devastating spot that makes you nearly wail.

“Yeah?” he asks as if you could respond right now. “Right there?” 

“Mmm,” is all you can manage. 

“Good. Let me have it. Rub that pretty clit of yours for me, I wanna feel her trying to milk me dry.” 

Fuck. His filthy words nearly send you over the edge immediately, but when you slip your own hand between your legs, it’s euphoric. Furiously working at your slick, swollen bundle of nerves you drive yourself to the brink. 

“Gonna–ah!--gonna cum,” You get the breathy, gasping words out right as your pussy starts to clench around him. He groans lowly, making you see stars as your climax tears through you. 

The waves are still rolling through your muscles, your core still tensing, when he pulls out. The slick sounds as he pumps his cock rapidly are obscene and you don’t want them to stop. But then you feel his hot cum painting your ass, and you’re moaning in unison. 

Then he’s pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before slinking out of your room. You grimace. Tuning back in to the speaker still rambling on about god knows what on your computer. Before you can move, Joel is back with a small towel to clean you up. 

You’re stuck in a daze. A blissed-out state, as you straighten up and pull your leggings back up. Joel’s about to slip back out the door as if nothing happened. Before he steps out of the room though, he gives you a knowing smirk, “You did good for me, darlin’.” 

You’re left staring at the closed door, breathless and trembling, the heat of his touch still lingering on your skin. Rent isn’t the problem anymore. Joel Miller is.

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[nnight-dances]

CASUAL

PAIRING: karina x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, smut (explicit, but not too much?)

TROPES: fwb to lovers except you're roommates and best friends, unrequited love but not really.

LISTEN TO: casual by chappell roan

NOTE: i may be having a bit of a military wife moment rn but i'm still a sapphic at heart yearning for something more... my first gay fic i've posted on this account yay! cannot reveal if ive been in a similar situation but you could say this is based on real life! whose life, i will not say. hope u enjoy and stay safe everyone <3

knee-deep in the [twin bed] and you're eating me out

you want to say you're in control when it happens, but you'd be a big fat liar if you did. truth be told, karina had you wrapped around her finger since she moved in. (in more ways than one, if you catch my drift.) 

you met her late freshman year in college when you shared a gender studies course with her – which alone would've been enough of a clue to which ways she swings, if not for the black leather jacket and unnecessary amount of rings she wore to class. she'd sat next to you the first week in and approached you after class. "this class is a bore," she said as a matter-of-factly, "wanna get coffee with me?" 

you'd agreed because you were mesmerized (even though secretly, that was the favorite course you took that year) and followed her into a cafe, letting her sweet talk you into all kinds of things from there. she had a big friend group which welcomed you generously when they found out you were friends with karina and eventually, that became your everyday life. 

you worked on papers sincerely while karina watched you with an unreadable glint (maybe it was unreadable, maybe you didn't want to read too much into it), swirling her untouched coffee. eventually one day, she asked you, "wanna be roommates next year?" 

that was karina. easy-going and confident. she didn't hesitate to ask you to do things with her, even if they were often bending the boundaries of what friends could do. exhibit a: she'd asked you to make out with her at a party just so she could shake off a creep. in general, she was touchier than the normal person, finding a way to cup your stomach under your shirt when you weren't looking. you get the idea. 

that's how when she moves into the same room as you sophomore year, you lost all sense of self and reality. you have to thank your mom who convinced you to arrive on campus a day earlier than most, so you could settle in without the bothersome crowd. 

you're in the middle of fixing a poster of your favorite band, the strokes, in the wall when she lets herself in with a, "you're already here, jagiya!" you almost lose your footing on your chair in order to face her, heart already a fluttering mess thanks to her shameless flirting. 

"karina!" you call out, thrilled to see your friends, complications aside. you step down carefully before throwing yourself in her waiting arms. "you're here earlier than i thought."

she pulls away with a devilish grin, "missed you too much so i came early." she looks around the room, "i see you've already made this place home."

you smile, unsettled by the way she's still holding you in her arms, your bodies attached at the hip as she takes in her home for the next year. she smells like she always does: like grapefruit and spicy cedar. you feel relaxed in her embrace, taking in her appearance. she's wearing a cropped tank with a large flannel that slips off her shoulder thanks to the heavy tote she carries.

with a sigh, you take the tote off her. "your hair grew longer," you comment as you place the bag on her desk. karina does a little spin for you, giving a full view of the wavy locks that came all the way to her navel. it only made her that much more charming (you couldn't resist wanting to know what it would feel like to run your fingers through them). 

you watch as karina lugs all her stuff into the room, refusing your help with a strict look. "can't have you spraining something already, jagiya," she quips and that's all it takes for you to sit back obediently. she takes off her flannel, letting you take in her arms. was it just you or did her biceps get bigger? (it wasn't just you. karina spent her summer the gym rat way.)

"you barely have any stuff…" you murmur mindlessly when she's nearly done in half an hour. for reference, it took you three whole hours for two days to set your stuff in place.

"you just have a lot of stuff," karina laughs, closing her closet with a satisfied clap. "thoughts on ordering in for din'?"

you raise a brow, "shouldn't we at least go see if everyone's back?"

she shrugs, "we can just go after we eat." she approaches your bed, resting her forearms next to you. "come on, i don't feel like eating that prison food just yet."

despite karina's exaggeration (your dining hall makes perfectly edible food), you let karina order for you. who are you kidding? the thought of sharing a meal with your newly established roommate in your new room on your first day together… it was sweet, you had to admit. so you give in and tell karina exactly what toppings you want on your bowl. 

but where you had expected to bond in all kinds of cozy ways with karina, the night quickly an unexpected turn. you're not sure how it happens but you end up caged under karina's body on your bed. her hot breath is hitting your face, "you got even prettier over the summer, huh?"

her words make it harder to think. to think about how this your best friend slash roommate slash the person you would do anything for. fuck, it's too late and you're too helpless when it comes to her. karina's already sliding her hand down your stomach, eliciting a mewl of her name from your throat. 

she looks pleased, chesire grin lighting up her face when she reaches your panties. "mhm, karina–" you claw at her shoulder when a cold finger meets your slick folds. she kisses your cheek and then your mouth, so strong that you can't do anything but hold her closer to your chest till she's ripping a scream from you. 

"karina, what are we doing?" you cry out, still coming down from your orgasm. what the fuck, this not a situation to be with your roommate.

"what?" she whispers, lips attached to your neck without a care in the world, "i'm just doing what i've been wanting to all summer."

"okay, that's enough," you push her off until you're both sat. you're breathless so it doesn't help the gravity of the glare you hold karina captive under. she sits back on her palms, eyes hooded. 

"we're friends," you start and sensing the protest rising in her, you hold up a hand, "and roommates. you know what they say about that, don't you?"

"don't shit where you eat," she deadpans, "but i don't care. i'm not shitting anywhere. i like you, you like me. that's why we're friends. if we want to fuck around a little, what's the big deal?"

you contain a scoff at how unbothered she is. at the same time, her words stab you in the heart, the subtle friendzoning nature of them not going unnoticed (that's why we're friends? what if you wanted to be more?)

"listen, jagiya," karina shifts dangerously closer, a thumb wiping away the sweat on your lip. "it's chill. we don't have to if you don't want to. but i'll tell you right now; i want to do things with you."

"things?" you breathe even though you know you shouldn't fall into her trap.

"yeah," she caresses your cheek, licking her lips, "want to kiss you. make you come. that sort of thing."

you fall against her weakly, feeling the soft strands of her hair envelope you like a dream. with your eyes closed, all you can feel is warmth of her body and none of the cold of her words (kiss, fuck, chill. no love.) 

"only if you let me eat you out, too," you finally murmur against her skin. feel her shake with laughter.

"thought you'd never ask."

you wake up in karina's arms. she'd dozed off in your bed as if hers wasn't two hops away. the thoughts makes you flushed (despite everything) and you turn around to face her. she's still asleep, peaceful as ever. you trace the mole below her lips, envious of how little she was attached to you.

not to drown yourself in self-pity, you had always been too attached to karina for your own good. a week into being friends with her, you would jump at a text from her, dropping everything to meet at her the cafe she had wanted to try or to help her get ready for a party. 

but it wasn't without reason. she was sweet to you, genuinely. karina sensed your moods smoothly, knowing when your silence was more than comfortable and when your drunk crying meant you were actually upset over something. she listened to you, no matter how little you claimed the problem to be, her reliable shoulder always yours when you were in trouble.

so you couldn't blame the butterflies in your stomach at waking up with her. right?

"we never made it to meeting our friends," karina mumbles through a yawn later. you're both in the middle of getting ready for the day, thankfully still a grace day before classes start. 

"you clearly had other plans," you purse your lips in the mirror, working on fixing a bump in your hair. stupid karina and her arm under your head all night. 

she comes up behind you with a playful smile, taking the brush from your hands to rake it through your hair herself. "you say that like you didn't have fun," she says. she brings your hair into a bun, taking a hairtie off her wrist to secure it in place. patting your head with eyes on you in the mirror, "there. you look cute."

you heave a deep sigh at the motions that stir up at her actions, sliding away to pretend to busy yourself with your bag. "we should go meet them today," you say, "or they might declare us dead."

"definitely," karina laughs.

meeting your friends helps you a little. maybe it's because you're seeing them after so long or maybe it's just the fact that you have normal friend feelings for them. but it's nice, you can lose yourself in a nonsense conversation with seungkwan about your recently acquired obsessions with various mobile games.

he's in the middle of offering to show you his brand-new coffee machine when karina shouts, "guys! gather up! minjeongie is driving us to get ice-cream! on her!"

you spot the short blonde attacks on karina at the presumably false declaration. your rommate dodges well, bent in a fit of laughter at minjeong's tantrum. "okay, i lied! everyone buy your own ice-cream."

as it turns out, minjeong's car is definitely not big enough to fit all 8 of your friends. "looks like we're fighting it out the fairest way," seowon declares, readying her fist for rock paper scissors. 

"since only five of us can go," karina starts, somehow finding her way next to your side. you shiver when her hands clasps yours. "minjeong, y/n, and i are definitely going."

you watch in shock as everyone wreaks havoc at her words. "now why would we allow that–"

"see, it's technically just two seats taken," she explains calmly, "y/n's sitting on my lap anyway." you gape at her audacity as she holds up your intertwined hands, like a wedding announcement.

you try to weasel out of her grip, mumbling, "that's fine. i don't really want to go–"

"what? of course you do," karina's hand tightens and you curse her strength, "you love ice-cream, jagiya. come on. let's go."

your friends seem dubious of the interaction but with a few statements along the lines of they're in their honeymoon phase as roomies, they return to the rock-paper-scissors battle at hand, now the stakes reduced to four seats now. 

"calling shotgun by the way!" karina calls as she pulls you after. you don't know what to say honestly, overwhelmed by her hand in yours. you had expected her to pretend things were the same as always but clearly not: you had never gone as far to sit in her lap with your friends around (alone was a different story. but you swear you'd only ended up in her lap because she'd wanted to hug you through your breakup with your ex.) 

"karina, you're crazy," you tell her, finally shaking your hand free. you cross your arms and karina simply takes a chug of water from the brita in geum's minifridge. 

"why? because i volunteered my lap so we'd get to go?"

before you can really give her a piece of your mind, minjeong interrupts. "looks like they figured out the winners. we're leaving in the next five minutes or the offer's off the table."

– 

two weeks and your mom invites me to [lunch]

"y/n, it's so nice to see you again," karina's mom is saying, sliding a menu toward you. thanksgiving week was around which meant parents were abundant on campus these days. it also meant your own mom couldn't make it because she was swamped with work, no thanks to her job as an on-field reporter. 

"of course, you've lost so much weight since we last met, eommeoni," you smile.

this is fine for the most part of it. you genuinely enjoy karina's mom's company. she's kind and sincere, always bringing a gift for you along with karina and treating you like her own. but this time around it's different because it's the first time you've been sleeping with her daughter.

in fact, just that morning, karina had kept you in bed longer than usual, complaining because you had gone to bed earlier than usual. it had been part of your plan to keep your conscience clean for when you met her mother, to make sure you didn't lose her respect. but being the nefarious idiot she was, karina had crawled up your torso, eyes going sweet at you, "please, just once?"

so now you had a dirtier conscience than usual, having been panting in karina's lap just hours before this lunch. 

but even if you tried to maintain composure in front of her mom, karina made it impossible. she slid close to your shoulder, hand splayed across your bare thigh (curse you and your decision to wear your sundress out today). it's honestly harmless and even excusable as a friendly gesture, but ever so occassionally, her hand climbs up, reaching closer and closer to a position that was far from appropriate.

"so tell me, do you two have any classes together this semester?" karina's mom asks you between mouthfuls of rice. you take the chance to peel karina's hand off but it ends up at your knee like a magnet. 

"not really," karina answers easily as if unaware of the power struggle going under the table. probably because she was winning by a mile. 

"i told karina she should take an elective with me but she refused," you complain, deciding if this was the way you could hit back then so be it.

"i think you forgot to mention it was an economics elective," she corrects you, hand basically clawing at your inner thight by now. you shift uneasily and karina's mom laughs.

"you know jimin," she shakes her head, "she doesn't take the serious courses. only painting all day long."

"eomma," karina groans, "how many times do i have to tell you? it's not just painting. i'm an arts major. that's like the second hardest major at this school."

"really? what's the hardest major?" (the only right question for a mother to ask.)

the rest of the lunch goes by quickly, fortunately for you. you're the first out the door, eager to put some distance between you and karina. you pretend to fan yourself out of the hot mess she's made of you.

"i have to say," karina's mom says as she gets ready to leave, "you two seem to have gotten closer since you started rooming together."

"really?" karina wonders as if clueless to the arm around your shoulder, where it had been the whole walk back to campus from the restaurant. (insufferable, you whisper to her. cute, she accuses you.)

"thanks for sticking next to her, y/n. who knows where my little girl would be without you?"

you brush of karina's mom's words of flattery, not voicing the thoughts that arise. where would i be without your daughter? 

– 

i know what you tell [our] friends

imagining a life without karina becomes terribly real when it becomes clear to you that karina truly has no intentions of treating as anything more than a friend who she sleeps with and not just as roommates. 

it's a cold slap of reality that you finally feel one day when you're eating with minjeong and seungkwan. karina's next to you, like she so often is, hand on your elbow for no good reason.

"so everyone's been wondering…" minjeong starts to say and seungkwan shoots her a glare, realizing where this was going.

"...are you two a thing?" she points to the point of contact between you and karina.

"what?" you squeak, pulling away at the call-out. but your mind goes blank, all the excuses you had practiced in your head deserting you. you had expected someone to catch on sooner or later, but somehow right now all you can think of is how you already miss karina's touch. i'm in love with her, it occurs to you to say. (wait, you love her? you wonder distantly as if the answer hadn't been crystal clear the minute she crossed lines with you.)

karina shrugs, "we're fucking. but it's casual. no attachment or anything." she adds with an arm around you, "just girls being girls, right?"

you muster out a laugh to agree with her, ignoring the concerned look seungkwan pins you with. minjeong seems convinced though, "no way! you're sleeping together? i guess it must be convenient… you live together."

"yeah, you could say that," this time it's you responding, swallowing the tremble in your throat. you'd rather die than let karina get a whiff of your true feelings. you stand up.

 "it's easy." it's the hardest. "not a big deal." you thought about it every waking second. "i have class now though. see you guys later." 

you did not have class. you ran to the nearest bathroom stall to lock yourself in and let out the sobs that had been threatening your system for the past three weeks. you make sure nobody can hear you and then wipe your tears with the spare tissues you carry in your bag. 

you leave, hoping nobody notices your red eyes. 

that night, you go to your room later than usual, counting on karina to be asleep. you should know better though because she's up, in nothing but her night shorts, sitting on your bed. 

it almost frustrates you for a moment, the sight of her curled up so comfortably on your bed like you were lovers. but you weren't. you weren't even close. but she perks up like maybe you are, calling out your name sweetly, "you're so late today. is everything okay?"

"yeah," you say, not making eye-contact for too long as you rest your bag on your desk. you contemplate leaving the room just so you didn't have to feel this hot volcano erupt in your chest. but instead, you undress, aware of karina's unwavering gaze. you make sure to slip off your pants and put on a baggy shirt. no shorts, like karina liked.

"we're a fully dressed person put together," she liked to joke when she'd bring your bodies close. you laughed along but all you wanted was to actually be one person with her. maybe that would justify why you were so attracted to her. 

"come on,," she coos when you jump into bed. "i know something's wrong. your eyes are red. your shoulders heavy."

"can't lie for one second with you, can i?" you sigh into her skin when she hugs you. 

"sorry, jagiya. maybe if i was a man, you could get away with it."

maybe that would make it easier. if one of you was a man. at least then someone would bat an eye at the concept of a no strings attached situationship between best friends. you were practically begging for someone to object to its apparently platonic nature. (you were begging yourself.)

"i didn't even shower," you complain when she explores your bare stomach with her fingers.

"it's fine. we'll just take one in the morning."

she holds you to the promise, waking you up half an hour earlier than usual just so she could drag you into the shower. two girls showering together, a sight nobody would see because it was dead quiet until an hour from now. 

– 

i try to be the chill girl 

you knew it was too good to be true, your friends-with-benefit situation with karina. but now that your feelings are actually catching up to you, you can barely hold in the tears that overwhelm you when you look at her.

then, when you finally decide to suck it up and show up to dinner with your friends, it all goes south. thanks to some dumb group project karina's doing, a guy named taeyong was at your table. you knew him by name from college gossip. he was fit to be the protagonist of a rom-com, nice guy with the looks to go with it and he was friendly, fitting right in with the group of friends. 

bitterly, you reflect on how long it had taken you, in comparison, to warm up to everyone. a month, maybe? plus, he looked perfect next to karina, their unusually good looks matching each other's quality.

you're not the only thinking that because geum pipes up, "you two look good together! when's the wedding?"

seowon hits his arm though most of the people on the table join in laughter. (you don't.) "come on, you can't force it, geum," she says, "they're clearly still getting to know each other."

"so it'll be official in say, a week from now?" minjeong teases, earning herself a blush from taeyong. karina is unruffled but she does smile a little at the teasing comments, side-eyeing the boy next to her.

right. they did look good together. 

much to your discomfort, karina and taeyong only seem to become closer, with the latter frequenting your table at every meal. he assimilated easily with the group, already circulating inside jokes that you were conveniently not a part of.

speaking of which you were circulating a word tornado yourself: casual, no attachement, chill, convenient, easy… not a big deal. as taeyong became a regular with your friends, you became increasingly absent, coming up with excuses to take your meals at much earlier or later hours.

you're officially spiraling, doing your best to avoid karina. but avoiding karina meant avoiding your friends. it was a harsh truth but you came to realize you were only friends with them because of her and if you decided to break things off with her, you'd also end up a loner.

it was a cold, miserable place to be in, your mind. you left your room early and came back late to karina asleep. she'd tried to stay up for your sake a few times but you'd made your arrivals later and later, until she gave up and went to sleep. 

you know you can only avoid her for so long before she caught you and grilled you but for now, you just had to come up with a way to keep yourself occupied. that afternoon, you get a text from her, asking to talk to you after dinner. you leave her on read for hours before texting back a quick "sure," afraid to go too far. you may be mad at karina for treating you in ways that left you confused, but you didn't actualy want to hurt her. 

but come the time when finally face her and you realize it may be too late. 

"so… why exactly have you been avoiding me?" more than anything, karina's voice is weary. she appears worried when you first take a seat across from her but when you don't look like you're in actual physical pain, her expression morphs into one of frustration.

"i'm not," you sigh, "i'm just busy."

"busy during every single meal? busy enough to leave before i wake up?"

"i'm taking more classes than usual," you say and though it's the truth, it's far from being the reason why you were acting this way. karina seems to know this. 

"i'm taking an art class that has me staying back in the studio till 11," she tells you. only then, you notice the black charcoal marking her cheek. "but i still come home."

"sorry," you mumble, averting your gaze. "i'm not– you didn't do anything. i'm just… thinking through some things. i'll come back to the room earlier today."

"great, so now we're not close enough for you to share your thoughts with me?" this time karina actually sounds hurt. it was the indication of your friendship finally falling apart that has her sitting forward, eyes blinking in panic. "y/n, what the fuck?"

what the fuck, indeed. you try your best to reassure karina but it seems like she's done talking to you after that point so you see yourself out. a small part of you manages to wonder whose jacket was laid across the chair next to her. taeyong?

you find the answer the hard way when you come back to your room at a reasonable hour for the first time in a week. only to run into taeyong himself.

he seems like he's in a hurry when you step in, rushing to put his jacket on (yes, the jacket that you saw next to karina earlier today) and avoiding your gaze. you don't even pretend to seem pleased encounter him there.

you fix your glare on karina, kneeling on her bed. she lets out a sigh when she sees you. "you're finally back."

you watch as taeyong leaves without a goodbye and you scoff, "i feel like i interrupted something. maybe i shouldn't have come back." you feel the blood rush to your head, all your convictions to lay out your unreciprocated feelings out to karina because she deserved an explanation.

right now, you just feel empty. and mad. so as soon as you rest your bag, you get to changing. but not into your night clothes.

"are you going somewhere?"

"...maybe."

"and what happened to our talk earlier?"

with a huff of disbelief, you throw your sweaty shirt on your bedroom floor. "well, i decided it meant nothing when i saw that guy leaving our room."

"taeyong?" karina looks baffled and you want to shake some sense into her so bad.

"yeah, i don't know, karina, the thought of you already replacing me with some dude–" you cut yourself off when your voice breaks. "it's not a great feeling. so i'm just gonna leave."

"wait, what?" karina jumps out of her bed. "is this what you've been mad about all week?"

you pause your angry movements about your space when she comes close to you, touching your arm, first contact in days. you breathe unevenly, "karina, i just need some time–"

"are you crying, jagiya?"

you want to say it's stupid nickname that gets to your nerves finally breaking your walls down. but really, it's the warmth in her tone, the sound of her breath hitting your ear so close. you'd missed karina. that's why you end up sobbing, arms finding her neck to support you. 

"karina, i'm–" she rubs your back calmly through your sobs. "i'm sorry."

"what's wrong, baby? why are you crying? please, talk to me."

"i think… i'm in love with you."

your confession is quiet, just like your love for karina has always been. actually no, that's what you want to think but no, your love is loud: you look for her in every room you enter, hands already welcoming hers when she runs over to you. you're the first to laugh at her jokes, no matter how nonsensical or how many times she's told them to you. you may be a flustered mess when things got intimate, but you always made sure karina felt good, too – going far beyond your comfort zone to please her.

karina pulls away with a soft gasp. "that's not what i expected you to say."

"i know," you sniffle. "but it's been killing me. i know you wanted to keep things casual. and i know you and taeyong are–"

"okay, just so we're clear for once and for all– there is nothing between me and taeyong."

you freeze in shock, having been rock-solid in your assumption of their relationship. "what?"

"come on, i barely know the guy. but apparently, everyone's teasing got to his head," karina sighs, "he came here to confess to me earlier today. and i rejected him."

now his urgency to leave the room makes even more sense, you realize slowly. but you realize another thing: karina had looked cold when you'd entered, ending things with him clearly. yet, here you were, standing with her arms around your waist as if you hadn't declared your love for her.

"...and?" you prod her, biting your lip hopefully.

"and?" karina echoes you, eyes locking in yours to understand your hint. "oh, you wanna know how i feel?"

you nod coyly, a stray tear falling down your cheek as if on cue. 

"well, let's start with a recap of this week. you ignored me so i felt like shit for most of it. and then you ignored me some more and i had to go to sleep lonely and sad. then, you stopped showing for meals so i didn't even want to eat anymore. what happened next? oh right, this evening. i had to practically beg you to talk to me–"

"okay, i get the idea!" you stop her with a groan, "i'm sorry, but i clearly had good reason to act the way i did."

"did you?" karina is suddenly holding your face, smiling turning bittersweet. "you idiot."

"huh?"

"i wanted to keep things casual because i wasn't sure how you felt about me. i wanted you to keep your options open till someone who you actually liked came along–"

"but–"

"this was long before i knew you were into me like that. you're really hard to read, you know? but yeah, i kept things casual because i'm selfish. i wanted to sleep with the girl i love without losing her friendship. i was obviously an–"

"idiot!" you hit karina's arm repeatedly at her revelation, tears filling up your vision yet again. "you love me?! why would you do that to me, then? are you–"

karina catches your fists in her with a heave, "i know, i know. i'm sorry, jagiya. but–" she brings your first to her chest, exposed by the deep neck of the tank she wore to sleep. "i'm serious about you, okay? i didn't want to gamble someone i cherished over some fucking around."

your body feels weak now that the truth is out in the open. you lean into karina. "you're so mean," you say into her neck, "i thought… you were chill."

she laughs at your complaint, "sorry. i'm dumb. dumb in love?"

you let karina coax you into her bed that night, kissing your body free of the tension you'd carried all that week like she was nursing you back to health. you can't help the tears that escape at her sweet touch, not new for her by any means – but different for you nevertheless, now that you knew how she felt. later that night, when you're falling asleep in her arms, in her twin bed this time, you feel her snuggle closer. warm nose against your cold cheek, she kisses you goodnight. (and a soft love you that you can barely distinguish from a dream.)

[tinytalkingtina]

Wiggly 🧠🪱 Wednesday

@devondespresso Tagged me in this forever ago and I finally had one wiggle its way into my brain!

This week been fiddling with the idea of a true role reversal Steddie, with Eddie as the popular jock and Steve as the metalhead (as opposed to a punk). This got a little away from me, haha. No idea for a story or how other characters might fit in, but if anyone wants to take the concept and run with it feel free!

Eddie

Eddie is still poor, and still lives with his uncle (let's pretend he had to repeat a grade due to the chaos of moving in with Wayne). But he's Hawkin's star track runner/lightweight wrestler, channeling his energy into sports and competition. His grades are probably still not great, but since he's winning awards at meets, teachers let a lot more slide, and he skates by most of his classes with low C's. If he's loud and excited, then well, that's just what jocks do, right?

Wayne works nights, so Eddie is usually left to his own devices. Sure, the trailer can't hold that many people (and maybe Eddie has a bit of a chip on his shoulder that he lives in the trailer park), but this is the Midwest, and Eddie is creative. He hosts big bonfire ragers out in the woods, deep enough that the cops can't easily break them up.

Eddie's "Munson Doctrine" is from the perspective of being a jock. Mixed with his insecurities, it becomes about staying on top, no matter what. That means dating around, taking girls out most Fridays. He likes girls and has plenty of fun. And if he occasionally slips in a fantasy or two about drug dealer Steve Harrington pinning him against a wall with that knife of his, no one needs to know.

Steve

Then we have Steve. Steve's had piano lessons since he was 5. A framed picture of him in his bow tie and tiny suit at his first recital sits on his mom's desk. He's good at sports and does Little League as a kid, but they don't hold his interest, not the way music does. When he hits middle school, him and his dad have a huge fight over him refusing to try out for any sports. The cracks were already there, because his parents are louder than they think when they argue. To drown them out, he turns on the radio, spinning the dials. By chance, he finds a Black Sabbath song. Something in it speaks to him, gives an outlet to the frustration and anger he's feeling.

Steve picks up drums to play in band at school, but he also borrows books from the library and teaches himself guitar after begging his mom for one for his 13th birthday. He makes a few friends, they start a band. As he enters high school his parents fight more. His grades, never great to begin with, slip further, so no more allowance for Steve. The first time he tries to steals a tape, he's caught almost immediately. But he gets better at it over time. Can't steal tattoos though, and Steve's not a great artist. So maybe he starts dealing. His parents work late most nights, so they don't need to know about his...extracurricular hobbies.

Even if he's not at the top of the high school food chain, Steve's still good at reading people and social situations. I don't think he would have the desire to DM AD&D, but I think Steve makes a good player, always solid at strategizing. In the hallways, he sees and overhears things, enough that he's able to keep the heat off him and his friends with some clever insinuation, and the threat to cut off anyone who tries something.

He sees the way that loudmouth jock Eddie Munson's eyes flick down to his lips when he buys weed off him at parties too, the guy isn't nearly as subtle as he thinks he is. Steve would love to take him down a couple pegs, if Eddie'd let him.

Thanks to @little-annie for some ideas on fleshing metalhead!Steve out more :D

Edit: check out the role reversal steddie tag for snippets of what Annie and I are writing now :)

No pressure tags to some folks (and if anyone wants to be tagged in the future let me know!): @augustjustice @hbyrde36 @puppy-steve @soaringornithopter

@hairstevington @eyesofshinigami

[izvmimi]

cw: part two of this drabble. fluff. izuku and reader are still high schoolers, still out under the stars in the middle of the night. a couple off-color jokes.

“You’re heavier than I expected.” Izuku says, suddenly, after a short bout of silence.

He’s seated cross-legged on the ground, eyes watching you carefully and you have for the past minute tried not to comment on the soft bags forming under his eyes or the frequent yawns (not that you’re not concerned but you value his privacy). If he had something to say to you, he would.

But now he's talking and you don't like it.

You touch down from the three feet you’ve allowed yourself off the ground (instead of fifty) and give him a look.

“Am I not dainty enough for you?” you quip. It’s pretend-angry - you can tell he just wanted to say something to break the silence, and not-so-surprisingly, he’s not always the best with words.

He blinks, nagging sleep in his eyes, then you can see him doing a bit of a calculation in his head. Then he gets to his feet. Perhaps you overdid it, you consider.

Had you finally annoyed him enough that he’d leave?

Rather than go the other way, he advances towards you, and confused, you take a tentative step back. He just as quickly hoists you in his arms, bridal style.

“W-what are you-“

He tosses you once in the air, like one would toss a pizza crust without the spin, and you gasp.

He grins as you look at him with wide eyes.

“Coming up with an answer for you.”

You swallow hard at the mischief in his eyes. Another toss, slightly higher this time and your stomach turns, possibly in excitement.

“Izuku!”

The next toss is high, so high you think you’ll become one of the stars in the sky and you scream loudly, but this time he bounds upwards and joins you, catching you again before the two of you make it to the ground. There’s a large thud as he braces himself on landing.

You’re a bit shaken, arms making his way around his neck reflexively. Your heart pounds while his is completely still.

“I think you’re dainty enough, ___.”

He sets you down for the second time that night.

Thump, thump, thump goes your heart.

“I’m starting to think you like carrying me,” you say finally.

He sits back down, but pulls your wrist gently to encourage you to sit with him.

“Maybe.” He teases.

As you sit together finally, taking a break from the night, you venture to ask him why he is out so late. Unlike you, he shouldn’t still have anything to prove.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” you ask. By now, it’s close to 2, maybe even 3 am and the chill of the middle of the night starts to settle in, and you pull your knees to your chest. It occurs to you to correct the bare arms and tops of your thighs in your winter costume. 

Izuku notices the shiver and pulls off his hoodie; you reflexively wave your hands that you’re fine but he still surrounds you with it. It’s warm, and it smells like him, and somehow that is even more comforting.

“Thank you,” you murmur under your breath. He smiles, then readjusts so that he leans his weight back on his hands and stretches his legs out. He looks slightly up in the sky. The smile is still there but there’s a little bit of sadness behind his eyes.

“Sometimes things pop into my head right when I’m about to fall asleep. Maybe a mistake I made or a wrong decision… then more start to come up and eventually it’s almost impossible to close my eyes anymore.”

He pauses and sighs. You watch him carefully and find yourself frowning.

“That sounds really hard,” you say, and mentally berate yourself for how ineffectual it sounds. Of course it’s hard. The first two years at UA were notoriously rough for the hero class, and you were relatively spared from all the extracurriculars they were involved in. Izuku has had to do more Hero work than you could even imagine, even if you were in the same class at this point in time. 

He laughs.

“It is, but it’s alright, I guess.” He shifts a little, looking at you. “At least it got me running into you in the middle of the night.”

Your mouth opens and closes, unsure what to say. There’s something about him that either makes you rambly or tongue-tied and right this moment, it’s the latter. You wonder if there’s anyone he feels this way about, then you hope there isn’t. 

Or maybe it would be better if there were, that way you wouldn’t continue to look stupid or bitchy or all around confused when it comes to him.

He chuckles at your silence, then pulls his knees into his chest to mirror you. Resting the side of his face on the knees, he studies you as though you are a painting, and you do the same to him. 

It’s hard to speak because what you want to say seems out of place and unnecessary.

I like you.

What use is that? He can do nothing with it, and neither can you. So you swallow the thought. 

“Have you tried counting sheep?”

This is possibly the most inane thing you’ve ever said.

He shakes his head. “They turn into dead bodies.”

The blood rushes from your face immediately and he actually laughs. “I’m kidding.”

You slap him on the shoulder. “Dude! Your sense of humor is awful!”

“Yeah. No one ever expects it,” he chuckles. “Perhaps I’m a bit sleep-delirious.” 

He rocks back and forth a little bit and you wonder how much of him you don’t really understand yet. 

“Do you want to walk back now?” you ask. Class will be later today than usual but it still means your sleep will be truncated. “You should probably sleep anyway. I’m constantly sleep deprived so it doesn’t matter for me, but for you…” you trail off because he shakes his head.

“I need a few more minutes,” he says. He’s no longer looking at you but straight ahead. It occurs to you that no matter how much he’s smiling right now, whatever is bothering him, whatever he can’t really articulate to you, still weighs heavy on his mind.

And without really thinking about what you’re doing, you find your hand inching closer to his. It rests on the top of his, and your fingers curl to hold the underside of his palm. 

“Okay,” you say.

No one says anything else. There’s wind, gentle breathing and the linking of your hands. Something builds under the surface but rests hidden. 

Something gentle but loud enough that it cannot be ignored.

[dullgecko]

Riz faints in a martial fighting practicum one day. he doesn't know if it's from lack of food (the budget's been tight lately and he's been sneaking the bigger portions on his mom's plate,) dehydration (he switched from drip coffee to espresso for speed of consumption recently and it means much less liquid intake during his day,) or tiredness (when is there time for sleep in junior year?) fabian and gorgug are in class that day and don't take it well/don't let riz downplay things

Riz generally tried not to get involved in up-close fights while in actual combat situation but that didn't mean he never would. There was also no guarentee that he wouldn't be fighting someone outside his size class. In order to make sure everyone was well rounded his martial fighting class, usually only full of halflings and gnomes beside himself, had been combined with one for larger adventurers.

He'd been looking forward to it. Sure, Riz sparred with Gorgug and Fabian informally all the time but there was something a little different about doing it at school. They'd been halfway through warmups when he started feeling a little off, lagging behind slightly as they ran laps around the gym before moving into stretching so no one would hurt themselves. He pushed past it though, usually if he ignored feelings like this they'd pass eventually.

It didn't pass though, his movements feeling sluggish as he sparred with his first partner. It was bad enough that he took a few hard hits from the wooden sparing swords, the halfling he'd been fighting actually giving him a concerned look as she dropped out of fighting stance after knocking the goblin on his ass for the third time.

"Dude are you okay? You've gone... gray? Your face is gray." She waved a hand at her own face, Riz blinking at her in confusion as he shifted to stand back up.

"Yeah sorry, bit off my game today. I think I'm a bit tir-" He felt like someone had stuffed his ears with cotton when he pushed himself back to his feet, vision tuneling before reducing to a pinprick as a wave of nausea rushed over him. He had a brief moment to think that he was glad his stomach was empty before he felt his knees buckle under him, the goblin landing on the padded mat with a muffled thump like a puppet with cut strings.

He was a bit confused when he opened his eyes again, suddenly finding himself a lot more supine than he'd been several seconds ago. A heavy weight on his chest as one of the paladins in Fabian and Gorgugs class knelt over him with a hand resting on his sternum. They must have cast lay on hands because he couldn't feel any of the bruises from sparing anymore, though he still felt fucking awful.

"He still looks pretty gray."

"He's in your party yeah? Think you can handle him while we continue the lesson?"

"Yeah we've got this." Riz heard Gorgug say from somewhere behind his head, the goblin giving the paladins wrist a pat to indicate they could stop as he tried to sit up.

"I'm okay. Just... gimme a second. I think my blood sugar went a bit loopy." He had to cross his legs and lean forwards when even that bit of movement made his head spin a bit, the goblin trying to take measured breaths to try and stave off the tunnel vision so he wouldn't just flop back over again.

"Fabian went to grab you a sports drink from the vending machine." Gorgug crouched in front of Riz when the paladin got out of the way, his party member giving them a pat on the shoulder by way of thanks. "Gods you look horrible dude. You scared the shit out of your sparing partner she thought she killed you."

"Sorry. Didn't have breakfast today." Or dinner last night, though he wasn't going to say that to Gorgug. He'd get worried looks... more worried looks than he was getting now anyway. "Was in a hurry."

"I don't think this is a case of skipping one meal man. You didn't even look this bad after the whole nightmare forest thing." The half orc wiggled his fingers, glancing up at the sound of running footsteps as Fabian sprinted back across the gym.

"Oh, good, he's awake I got-" He juggled a good half-dozen sports drinks in his arms, dropping two of them to the floor before shoving a bright purple bottle into Riz's lap.

"Thanks?" Riz pulled open the cap and took a sip, very nearly draining half the bottle when he suddenly realised how thirsty he was. He would have finished the whole thing if Gorgug hadn't tipped it away from him after a few seconds.

"Dude slow down, you'll make yourself sick. We know you're dehydrated as hell given you're not even sweating after all that working out but you need to pace yourself."

Riz just sighed at that and flicked his ears in irritation, waiting a few more seconds before taking a small sip of his overly sweet drink. "I'm fine. You don't need to... hover. You should go back to sparing."

"Nope. Once you're done with that you're coming down to the nurses office." Fabian jabbed a finger at him, handing him a second sports drink when the goblin finished draining the first one.

"But I'm-"

"You're dehydrated, you probably didn't eat breakfast..." Fabian turned to Gorgug who nodded in affirmation, the fighter rolling his eye in response. "...definitely didn't eat breakfast, and the bags under your eyes need their own postal code. When was the last time you slept?"

"Last night?"

"Sorry, rephrasing, more than two hours?"

Riz's eyes darted to one side as he thought, the rogue pausing long enough that Fabian made an annoyed noise at him and flicked his ear hard enough to make him flinch.

"Ow! Fuck!"

"Nurses office. You're not arguing your way out of this one... or should we call Sklonda to come pick you up?"

Riz just hissed in response to that, getting another ear flick for his efforts which made him flinch and cover them with his hands.

"Don't call my mom." She couldn't afford to leave work early, not with their budget as tight as it was this month. His case load had been pretty sparse so he wasn't able to help with the bills.

"So you'll come down to the nurses office?" "Okay."

"And stay there until they give you the all clear?" Gorgug added, catching the subtle squint to Riz's eyes that usually meant he was looking for loopholes.

"Ffffffine. I'll stay until they let me leave."

"Good."

[bwabys-scenarios]

how would kurapika and lerorio (or however you spell his name) react to your tank top riding down a little when you guys are cuddling? (separately please! :) )

Kurapika

Kurapika is often exhausted after work, and all he would like to do is pull you into his warm embrace and hold you all night. This particular mission has been long and hard, leaving him drained.

As he sits down his suitcase and drops his coat onto the coatrack, you run out of your room, wearing a pair of lounge shorts and a tanktop. Even in your pajamas, you’re awfully cute to him.

“Kurapika!”

You jump into his arms and he spins you around, chuckling. “Hello, angel. Miss me?”

You nod and pull him into a kiss, before leaving more kisses all over his face. He takes each one with a smile, before cupping your cheeks to stop you.

“Come on, angel. Let’s get to bed.”

He was still in his suit, quickly unbuttoning his shirt as he walked to your shared bedroom. It was late. He wished he could have gotten back sooner, it was obvious you’d stayed up to wait for him.

He left to the bathroom to change. Kurapika was still getting used to being in a relationship with you, and neither of you had made any… moves to further it. The thought of taking you lingered in the back of his mind at points, but he hadn’t seen any need to yet.

Kurapika threw on a tshirt and sweatpants. He splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth before walking back out into you room. Technically, it was just your room, but he’d practically moved in a few months ago.

You sat patiently on the edge of the bed, you eyes tired. He felt a little guilty for making you wait even longer to get some rest, so he made his way to the bed quickly.

“I’m ready. Come here, angel.”

He crawled into bed and opened his arms, making you giggle. He pulled you into his embrace and kissed the top of your head.

“Tired?”

“A little… but it’s hard to sleep when I finally have you back.”

You wiggled around to look up at him, causing your shirt to ride down, exposing more of your cleavage than Kurapika had ever seen.

He paused, his eyes glued to you chest. “O-Oh really?”

You sighed softly. “Mhm… I get so lonely without you.” You cooed, giving him another kiss. The atmosphere felt different, heavy. Something had shifted and Kurapika wasn’t sure what to do.

His hands acted on their own, moving from your waist up until his hands were cupping your breasts. He grabbed the top of your tanktop and pulled it up, covering her better.

“Sorry, dear. You were a bit exposed there.”

Although he could feel himself grow hard at the way you were looking at him, your eyes half lidded from sleepiness, he couldn’t bring himself to make a move. He didn’t want to keep you awake after you had so diligently waited for his return.

In the morning, though, he would. His little angel would have to wait until then.

Leorio

“(Name)!”

You let out a gasp as your boyfriend tackled you on the couch, putting all of his weight on you.

“Leorio!! Can’t… breathe!!”

He quickly pushes up and releases some of the weight. “Whoops, sorry doll face. Got a lil too excited there.”

He planted a kiss on your cheek in apology. “Ugh, if I didn’t love you so much I’d push you off.” You mumbled, grabbing his face and pulling him in for a kiss.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste of your lips. Leorio had just gotten back from one of his classes, and he always enjoyed cuddling you after class.

“Let’s move to the bedroom, be more comfortable there…”

He didn’t complain as you let him to your shared bedroom and pulled him into your embrace. He usually liked to rest his head against your chest..

But it wasn’t easy when the tanktop you’d been wearing was pulling down to expose your breasts to him.

Leorio couldn’t help but stare open mouthed. He hadn’t seen you in such a state before, his eyes wouldn’t leave your chest.

“My eyes are up here, you know.”

He turned red and looked up up see a teasing smile on your face. You leaned down to give him another kiss and pull up your shirt.

“I um… sorry for looking.”

You tilt your head. “Why? I don’t mind.”

He blinked as you pulled your tanktop down further, exposing that you hadn’t been wearing a bra.

Leorio’s eyes went wide, his face turning red. “You can touch them, if you’d like.”

“Please…”

His hands hovered over your breasts for a moment before you giggled and pulled them to your chest. He almost gasps when his hands make contact.

“So soft…”

Once he made contact, he squished and squeezed them to his hearts content, eventually taking a nipple into his mouth and suckling gently.

“A-Ah, Leorio!”

He looked up at you with your boob in his mouth, his eyes slowly dropping closed.

‘Did he just fall asleep with my boob in his mouth?’

You roll your eyes and kiss the top of his head, allowing him to suck on your breast while he slept.

[r0s3s26]

@blu3cr3am your Match Up is…Yuji Itadori

<3 Yuji would be so perfect for you

<3 He would be such a sweetheart constantly and like your own personal ball of joy

<3 Everyones fav class clowns right here

<3 I headcanon yuji as pansexual or just queer, like I fully think he doesn’t gaf. Like if her thinks your hot your hot

<3 Literally the most gentlest of souls out there

<3 All he wants to do is show you how much he loves you.

<3 Yuji is only rude if they are rude first to him

<3 So you would not have to worry about the way he acts

<3 If yall were to ever get into an argument and he saw you were getting heated he would immediately like stop arguing and try to calm you down the best he can

<3 “Hey Sky its ok, im not upset anymore just take a deep breath for me, ok?”

<3 He is such a green flag

<3 I can’t find any faults about him

<3 Y’alls date nights are 50/50

<3 I think you guys alternate weeks on the things you wanna do together

<3 Like one week yuji is bring you to a new ramen restaurant in the city and showing you around

<3 And the next week you both are cuddled up with pizza boxes and soda cans on the floor around your couch, cuddling watching Saw or Scream series

(My personal favs are the Scary Movie franchise lol)

<3 He would BEGGG you to draw him, like all the damn time

<3 If you were to draw him he would 1.Take a picture and put it on his instagram story being like “My baby drew me and not you >:)” and 2. Ether put it in his phone case if it's small enough, but if it's fairly big he will frame it and put it on his wall.

<3 He would think your so smart(you are)

<3 Like listening to you talk about nature or the human mind would get him like “😍😍😍”

<3 Will share his clothes with you

<3 Like please wear his hoodies like he will melt and give you so many smooches

It was wintertime. The cold of the outside has slowly started to seep into your bones, you shiver, wishing Yuji would hurry up and meet you at the entrance of Jujutsu High. You look at your phone again, 7:30, he's 10 minutes late now. You hope that nothing has happened to him or he didn’t get called for a late-notice mission. “SKYYYYY” you hear someone yell in the distance, and you see a flash of pink and tan running over to you(he is fast as fuk boi). Before you even have time to react to this, Yuji is lifting you and spinning you around like your feather floating through the air(this dude has ungodly strength no matter what you think it's gonna feel like nothing to him). He leans up and kisses you on both of your cheeks “Hi baby, I'm sorry I'm late, Gojo needed me and of course, it took forever” he rolls his eyes “It's okay handsome, I'm just glad you ok” you kiss the top of his head. He sets you back down on the ground but his hands are still around your waist. “Now what ramen place did you wanna show me again?” you say with a bit of a shiver, yuji interrupts you mid-sentence “Sky are you cold?” he says while rubbing up and down your arms. “ I'm a little cold, yes, but not super” you lie through your chattering teeth as the cold starts seeping into your bones, your soul-, “No baby you taking my jacket”. Yuji starts to slip off his jacket, revealing a light zip-up hoodie underneath, “Yuji I couldn’t-” “Stop right there love, this isn’t a debate, you taking it”. Yuji slowly slips the coat onto your frame and immediately you are warmed up, yuji constantly hugging you “I forget how warm you run sometimes” “Yep forever a personal heater”, he turns to you, “Your personal heater” He says with a smirk. You burst out laughing “Is that your attempt to flirt with me?” You start laughing a bit more, yuji looks away a little embarrassed “What Aoi taught me” he grumbles, “Yuji, my handsome boy, never take whatever that man says seriously”. You now take his hand and start walking towards the man road to the downtown area, “Now tell me about this ramen place”

(Author Note: I hope you enjoy<3)

[chaesonghwas]

hello my darling wife could i ask for you to write me a ‘absentmindedly playing with their hair all the time’ for our beloved piarles?? 💕💕💕 (and you know… if you would be so inclined… to perhaps make it… a certain… rockstar au???… 👀👀👀)(i love you)

hello my darling love💖 i cannot believe this is the first piece of actual writing that exists within this au bc it feels like it's 5 novels long. i love u and thank u for making this up with me 💖💖 i hope u like my little drabbleeee

to everyone else: if u want to know more about the Deep Lore of the rockstar au and its five million spin offs, feel free to dm me and i'll send u a 20 min voice note

absentmindedly playing with their hair at all times

Charles really likes Pierre’s hair. Above everything, he really likes touching Pierre’s hair. He even liked touching it when it was burnt to a crisp after the Disaster with the boxed bleach they attempted to use in tenth grade, which is a feat in Charles’ favor.

This isn’t really a problem when Pierre is about to go on stage - his rockstar persona requires a little disheveledness and his bandmates don’t bat an eye at Charles’ gentle touches because they’re used to it. They’ve suffered it for long enough, even when Charles and Pierre weren’t together yet. One time way back then, at an after party, Yuki had tried to make up a drinking game with every time Charles touched Pierre’s hair - he’d ended up puking out of the window of their taxi. Nowadays, only the venue staff are occasionally surprised at seeing Charles, a successful singer in his own right, absentmindedly petting Pierre’s hair as if he was a dog.

It does become a problem however when Pierre is supposed to give a class at their mothers’ music school, because he can’t resist when his maman asks for a favor, and he needs to look somewhat… put together.

“Cha, c’mon,” Pierre says when Charles walks into the kitchen while he’s having breakfast and ruffles his hair wildly. “I’m supposed to give that presentation today.”

Charles hums happily and turns on the kettle to make his tea. “And? The kids think you’re cool because you’re a rockstar, not because your hair is tidy. Besides -” He looks at the clock they have mounted on the wall, massive and gold and gaudy. It was a joke gift that they got from Fernando after their brief stint in New York, so they’ve kept it up for the memories. “- Aren’t you already late?”

Pierre looks at the time and grimaces. “A little bit.”

“Well, your mother won’t be surprised,” he teases, a smirk appearing on his lips. Charles is wearing his most oversized pajamas and a hoodie with Pierre’s band’s name on it - he looks cozy enough that Pierre wishes he could ditch the class and stay here to cuddle, but he won’t. He promised his maman he’d helped out and he’s a man of his word.

“You’re mean,” he shoots back. Charles, in return, jumps up on the barstool next to Pierre and spins him around to kiss him. Pierre lets himself get lost in the kiss the way he always does, because kissing Charles is his favorite thing in the world, but when they part for air he realizes what Charles’ master plan really was: to run his fingers through Pierre’s hair and leave it even messier than before.

Charles grins and leans back in to drop a kiss on his cheek. “You just have nice hair, Pear.”

“Anyway -” Pierre rolls his eyes and Charles’ resounding giggle sends a flash of warmth through him. “Do you have to be at the studio today?”

“Yeah, I have to record that one rock-ier song and Lewis offered to help with instrumentals.”

“So you’ll be stealing my guitarist?”

Now it’s Charles’ turn to roll his eyes. “Won’t you be teaching children all day? You won’t mind.”

“Fair.” He takes the last sip of his coffee and shoots up. “Now I’ll be very late, so I should get going. See you tonight, baby.”

Charles kisses him sweetly and runs a hand through his hair one last time. “Good luck, calamar, I love you.”

“I love you too, even if you keep messing up my hair.”

[toboldlygohome]

Hold Me Closer

Mark Watney X Reader

Chapter 1

Summary: You were looking forward to your month on Mars, but what happens when a month-long mission becomes indefinite? Will you and Mark make it back home, or were you doomed from the start?

Character(s): Mark Watney, Chris Beck, Melissa Lewis, Beth Johanssen, Alex Vogel, Rick Martinez

Warning(s): Cursing, Injuries

You stared out the window as you ate, watching the endless expanse of darkness spin around the ship. A week from now, you would be on Mars, conducting geological surveys and testing core samples. You were a chemist first and foremost, but you were also sort of a jack of all trades aboard the Hermes. You could fix things, run telemetry, conduct space walks, keep the plants alive, identify minerals, and of course you had a fair bit of medical training. It was because of your proficiency for all things scientific that you landed yourself a spot in Ares 3.

The excitement practically radiated off of you. You were so stoked, you couldn't even eat the food in front of you. So much to see, so many samples to run! You hoped there would be signs of past water in Acidalia Planitia!

"You know Y/L/N, the food is supposed to go into your mouth." Beck strolled in with his water bottle in hand. Evidently he was here for a refill.

"Thanks for the tip, doctor. I'll keep that in mind." You said before shoveling a spoonful of rehydrated ravioli into your maw.

"You looked lost in thought there, wanna share with the class?" He asked as the water reclaimer slowly filled his bottle.

"Just thinking about Mars," you shrugged.

"Ah, for a second there I thought you were thinking about your botanist," Chris smirked.

You stared daggers into his back. "My botanist?"

Beck grinned at you over his shoulder. "Well who else would you be thinking about? You've got such a wistful look in your eyes, I thought for sure your mind was on him."

"You really need to stop with the teasing Beck. It's a small ship, it'll get back to him eventually," you grumbled.

"Look, I just call it like I see it."

"Well, you're seeing wrong."

"You've been more and more distracted lately, there's no way it's only because of Mars," Beck chuckled. Dammit. You hated when he was right. You did like Mark, but let's be honest here. Who wouldn't like Mark? He was funny, smart, and he looked way too good in his grey flight suit. Completely unfair.

"God, you can be so annoying," you laughed.

"Only because I'm right."

"Mark and I are just friends, that's all we're ever going to be. Even if we didn't work together, and for the government no less, there's no way he'd ever go for the likes of me."

"What makes you say that?" Beck tilted his head curiously.

"Have you seen him?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Dude, he's like the second most attractive person on this ship!"

"Second?!"

"Objectively speaking, Johanssen is the first. Her posters sold out like hot cakes!"

"I know Johanssen is first! I meant, how is he second? What about me?"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Who's the one who got the super sexy Under Armor ad again?"

"... Y/N? How many times have you watched that ad?" Beck laughed.

"Shut up."

"It must have been a lot for it to be this fresh in your mind."

"Don't you have a computer nerd to go flirt with?"

"Don't you have a botanist to ogle?"

You groaned and pushed your food away, but Beck scooted it right back. "Fine, fine. No more teasing for today," he laughed. "Just make sure you finish your food, it's important that you eat well."

"What if I'm not hungry?" you asked.

"Eat anyway, doctor's orders," Beck sassed as he left the dining area with his water.

You snickered and poked at your ravioli. If only you could just follow your heart like Beck. He was set on Beth and nobody was going to keep him from her. You just hoped he'd wait until after the mission to make it official for the sake of his career.

Of course you wanted to date Mark. Beck wasn't wrong on that front, but relationships are strictly prohibited among crew-mates. Maybe if you didn't work together, you might have worked up the courage. Probably not, but it would have at least been an option.

You slowly ate the rest of your cold meal and tried to think about anything else. Anything but the plant-loving engineer who had a choke-hold on your heart.

~~~

Mark groaned and climbed out of his bunk. It had to be at least two in the morning... at least according to the Kennedy Space Center. Jeez, he was starving. Luckily their food reserves came with snacks for just such an occasion! He exited his quarters and looked toward the room beside his. The door was open, which was quite a surprise. You were normally asleep by now, and Martinez was keeping an eye on the telemetry tonight. What were you doing awake?

Watney made his way to the dining area and took a look at all of his options. Hmmmm... trail mix it is. He grabbed a bag and took the ladder to the zero g portion of the ship. Everything was quiet except for the hum of the ship and Rick clicking his pen in the cockpit. He decided not to bother the pilot and instead went in search of his favorite crew-mate.

He found you floating in the cupola with your earbuds in. You watched as Mars inched ever closer, calling you to its surface. Mark couldn't resist the urge. He grinned mischievously and grabbed your ankle, causing you to yelp in surprise.

Mark laughed as you smacked him on the shoulder half-heartedly, "Mark! you scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry, sorry!" he floated up and settled beside you. "I saw an opportunity and I had to take it."

"Jerk," you laughed and returned your focus to the lonely red planet.

"What are you doing up?" Mark asked.

"I could ask you the same question."

"I was hungry," he caught a floating peanut in his mouth and looked at you as he ate. "And you?"

"I couldn't sleep. I'm too excited," you admitted with a smile. "Ever since I was little, I wanted to go to Mars... I can't believe it's actually happening."

Mark smiled gently and watched as your eyes sparkled with adventure. That was one of the things he loved most about you. He loved seeing you light up when you learn something new or complete something for the first time. And for the few instances you failed, he loved watching you gear up to try it again. Nothing could shake you when you had your mind set on something. (He wished you had your mind set on him...)

This was a lifelong dream of yours, something you'd thought about, planned for, and fought tooth and nail to achieve. Now here you were, watching all of the pieces fall into place. Mark felt so lucky he got to be on this mission with you, that he'd get to see every moment of excitement, every vivid dream become a reality.

"What are you listening to?" he grabbed your earbud and stuck it in his ear. He grinned.

Hold me closer, tiny dancer. Count the headlights on the highway. Lay me down in sheets of linen, you had a busy day today.

You scooted closer to Mark so he could listen with you, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder to keep you steady. Oh what Watney would give to stay with you like this. Floating softly, slowly, taking in the view. He offered you his bag of trail mix with a cheeky smile. You laughed lightly and grabbed a bite. Fuck. He loved your laugh. He would listen to it on repeat if he could.

"Hold me closer tiny dancer," He mumbled along with the song as the chorus kicked back up.

"Count the headlights on the highway," you whispered back.

~~~

Finally.

Mars was so close, you could almost touch it! And here in a few hours, you would be~

You suited up for your ride in the MDV and helped Martinez and Johanssen with the pre-flight checks. Mark and Beck were loading the descent vehicle with everyone's personal items and Vogel was making sure all of the Hermes experiments were on autopilot. Commander Lewis oversaw the whole operation and kept in contact with Mission Control about the progress being made.

Once all the checks had been made and all the cargo had been loaded, everyone piled into the MDV and prepared for descent.

You took a deep breath as you checked the on-board navigation. You were really going to make it! You were going to walk on Mars! You checked, double checked, even triple checked your numbers before giving Lewis a thumbs up.

"We are go for separation," she told Martinez.

"At your command," Martinez said, poised to initiate the separation.

"Launch," Lewis said.

Your heart rate increased as the MDV shuttered out of the docking port. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my GOD!

"Approaching ten meters from Hermes," Johanssen said.

"Engine power readings are nominal. Ship internal pressure is stable." You said, unable to keep the excited quiver from your voice. The cabin was quiet for a few minutes. The tension could be cut with a knife. It wasn't a bad kind of tension. It was exciting, like teetering at the top of the world's tallest roller coaster.

"Approaching two kilometers from Hermes. Go for engine start up," Beth said.

"Martinez, go for engine burn," Lewis said.

You squeezed the arms of your seat and closed your eyes. This was the hardest part for you. You'd worked in the International Space Station before and reentry was your downfall. What was worse about entering Mars was that there was no water to break your fall if you crashed.

You felt a gentle pressure on your hand and looked up to find Mark already watching you with a smile on his face. He squeezed your hand as the MDV inched closer and closer to Mars.

"Hanging in there?" he chuckled.

"By a thread," you joked.

"You got this, tiny dancer," Mark winked.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. You both listened as Lewis and Martinez went back and forth calling out each action they performed. Mars completely filled the window.

You held onto Mark a little tighter.

~~~

The actual mission started off promising enough. The landing was good, setting up the Hab was a breeze, and life support was running at maximum efficiency. Unfortunately, life seemed to have this obsession with throwing you curve balls.

You scowled as you watched the screen while the storm outside raged on like an angry god.

"Jesus, we're gonna end up in Oz," Watney said. "What's the abort speed?"

"Technically one fifty kph. Any more than that and the MAV's in danger of tipping." Martinez said.

"Any predictions on the storm track?" Lewis asked.

"This is the edge of it. It's gonna get worse before it gets better," Johanssen replied.

"All right, prep for abort. We'll go to the MAV and hope for the best. If the wind gets too high, we'll launch."

If only that were the end of your misfortune. You literally had the audacity to think: 'How could this get any worse?' You got your answer when Mark was struck by a piece of flying debris. His vitals were offline, his suit depressurized on impact. He was likely dead, but still you were searching for him. The only trouble with that was you couldn't see two feet in front of you. The dust was thick and the wind was threatening your stability.

"WATNEY!" You called out, hoping the urgency in your voice would stir your friend from his incapacitation. "Watney, please respond."

"Y/L/N, I need you to get back to the MAV," Lewis ordered.

"But he could still be-"

"This isn't up for discussion. MAV. Now."

"I'm not leaving him behind. I know if it were any of us, he wouldn't give up. Not when there's still hope we could be alive."

"He's dead Y/L/N. W-we need to go, please," Beck pleaded.

You closed your eyes and forced down a cry. You didn't want it to be true, but Beck was right. Of course he was right. You were in denial... Still, you couldn't do it. If he was dead, you needed to see it for yourself. What if the numbers were wrong? What if-

You were struck with a sudden, blinding pain.

"Y/N!!" Lewis cried.

That was the last thing you heard before everything went dark.

~~~

Mark awoke with a gasp to the sound of beeping in his helmet.

"Oxygen level critical." A robotic voice said, causing him to pant heavily. His abdomen really fucking hurt. It took all his willpower to sit up. When he looked down, he found the source of his pain. The antenna for the com dish had turned him into a human shish kabob! He let out a cry as he tried to keep the antenna steady. Every movement sent a shock through his tired body.

Watney paused when he heard static in his helmet.

"Wa---y... W---ey c--- -n. Watney, If yo--- the-- please respond!"

"Y-Y/N?" Mark winced.

"Watney! Oh my god!" You sounded on the verge of tears. "I thought you were dead! I've been trying to call you for hours!" You sniffed and leveled your voice as much as you could. He could tell you were still coming down from your emotions. "What's your status?"

He groaned and pressed his head against the sand bank. "I've been impaled. Small puncture. Feel like shit," he said through heavy panting.

"Can you make it back to the Hab?" You asked.

"Yeah, I'll make it. I don't think it's deep enough to kill me." He stood up and immediately screamed.

"Mark! Are you okay? What happened?!"

"Antenna is still attached to the dish," he said through gritted teeth. He made quick work of the wire and struggled to his feet. "W-where are you? What's your status?"

"I'm trapped under the MDV. It plowed through me when I was looking for you. I'm not sure you can get me out in your condition."

Mark looked around and found the partially-mangled MDV a short distance away. Watney clutched his side and hobbled over, fearing the worst. He choked when he saw you. You were being crushed from the waist down by a fucking space ship. "O-oh my-"

"It's not as bad as it looks. I landed in some really soft sand. I managed to dig myself out from underneath, but I hit something solid and now I'm literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. The sand shifted under the MDV and now my chest hurts, but I can still feel my legs," you sighed and closed your eyes. "You need to get back to the Hab, Mark-"

"I'm not going to leave you." He grunted as he stepped closer. "If I lift this thing, can you pull yourself out?"

"Mark that's-"

"Can you?"

You grimaced and nodded, "Yes."

Mark nodded back and racked his adrenaline fueled brain for an idea of how to get you out. Still panting, he grabbed a metal bar from the ground and shoved it under the MDV. "On three," he said.

"One."

"Two."

Three."

He shoved the bar down and the ship eased up just enough for you to drag yourself out. You screamed as a searing, blinding pain ripped through your ribs. Mark felt his stomach drop at the sound.

He reached for you, but you pushed yourself into an unsteady standing position. "Fuck," you bit out and stumbled forward. "M-Mark" You inspected his wound. "Come on, we have to get this treated right now." You wrapped a supportive arm around his back and helped him shuffle back to the Hab.

His panting and gasps had only grown more pained as he stepped into the empty habitation. What little adrenaline he had left was wearing off. You rushed out of your suit as quickly as possible and helped Mark undress.

"Do you want to pull it out, or do you want me to do it?" you asked with as much calm as you could muster.

"I'll do it," he bit out. After a series of short, shallow breaths, he ripped the antenna out with a gut wrenching scream. You didn't have time to feel distraught as you shoved down his suit. He placed his hand on the wound. "There's something in it," he managed.

"Sit down," you ushered him to a chair and slid on some gloves. You made quick work in cutting away his shirt, administered a series of injections for pain and infection, and grabbed the retractor and forceps. "I'm sorry Mark, there isn't time to wait for the medicine," You didn't hesitate to insert the retractor and open the wound. He tossed his head back and blew out a long, shaky sigh. You bit the inside of your cheek and grabbed the object with the forceps. Carefully, you pulled it out and sat it in a dish. Mark groaned deeply. He was so pale and sweaty. You wanted to reach out and hold him, but you had a job to finish.

With the hard part done, you were able to relax and clean him up. The stitches were the final step. By then, the medicine was kicking in and Mark's strangled cries slowly turned into steady breathing. You leaned back in your chair and relished in the sound before standing up. You felt around your ribs for a moment and huffed before grabbing Mark some juice.

"Thank you..." He said, taking the bottle with shaking hands.

"You're welcome," you sighed and carded your fingers through his damp hair.

"Are you okay?" He rasped.

"I'm fine, just a couple broken ribs on the right side. I'll live." You gave him a tight smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I just ran a marathon," he chuckled, then winced.

"We should get you to bed-"

"Not yet," He shifted awkwardly in his seat. "There's an elephant in the room..."

"Ah," you sighed and sat down across from him, pushing away the pain in your ribs.

"What are we gonna do?" Mark murmured.

"Our odds aren't the best, but we'll make it work," you reassured him though you weren't sure it was the truth.

He closed his eyes and blew out a sigh. "You should be safe on the Hermes..." He swallowed. There were many stupid nights he wished you and him were the only two people in the world. Now he was beginning to realize how selfish that was. You were trapped on Mars because of him. If he hadn't have stopped to suggest the stupid rover plan, none of this would have happened.

"You should be too," you pressed a hand to his knee, sending a trail of goosebumps up his leg. Even now, you had him entranced with a single touch. "We should both be on our way home right now, instead we're here. But we're trained for this... We'll make it back, we're just gonna be fashionably late is all," you gave his knee a squeeze and pulled back.

"Can I see it?" he asked.

"See what?"

"Your ribs."

You opened your mouth to disagree, but decided a second pair of eyes on it might be for the best. You slowly lifted your shirt. Mark paled again as his eyes fell on your ruined abdomen. The whole thing was covered in splotches of purple and blue. Your back wasn't much better and he was sure your chest had received similar treatment.

His fingers ghosted over the bruises. "Shit," he whispered.

"It'll buff out," you lowered the hem of your shirt.

Watney closed his eyes and wished that this was all a nightmare, but upon opening them again, all he saw was you. You looked exhausted. No, exhausted was an understatement. There wasn't a word in the English dictionary that could describe your expression. You were devastated and trying to hide it. And why wouldn't you be? You had an endless supply of family and friends expecting you home. He only really had his parents to worry about. You had your parents, siblings, nieces and nephews, all your university and work friends... It should have been him and only him. You didn't deserve to be trapped here, least of all with the lowest ranking crew-mate on Ares 3.

"So, we're in a Hab designed to last 31 days..." You thought out loud. He could tell by that look on your face that you were puzzling through something.

"If the oxygenator breaks down, we're gonna suffocate. If the water reclaimer breaks, we die of thirst. If the Hab breaches, we'll explode. And if none of that happens, we starve to death." Watney said, giving in to the hopelessness of it all.

"If the oxygenator breaks, we have the spare. It's built to last 5 days for seven people. With only two of us, that will be... 30 days. More than enough time to fix the oxygenator." You thought out loud.

Ah, now he saw what you were up to. "If the water reclaimer breaks, we build a piss distillery while we fix it..." Mark corrected his earlier statement.

"We'll do bi-weekly checks on the Hab canvas to look for tears." You leaned back. "But you're right. Food is our biggest problem. We're gonna be a couple of hungry, hungry astronauts in a few months."

Mark laughed and shook his head. "Looks like we're gonna have to science the shit out of this..." He looked at you and was pleased to find you smiling back at him. "But that sounds like tomorrow-Watney's problem."

"For sure," you snickered. "There is no way I'm doing all that math tonight."

His heart fluttered as he watched the grin spread over your lips. Your enticingly soft looking lips... What is wrong with you Watney? Stop thinking about that! JEEZ... Creep... Anyway, just a moment ago, Mark was ready to give up. Now he had a little more hope that everything would turn out fine. Today fucking sucked, but tomorrow was a new day. Things are only hopeless when you give in to fear, and it was clear you had no intention of giving in.

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"You should run for President when we make it back."

"What?" You laughed and clutched at the spot above your broken ribs.

"I'm just sayin' I'd vote for you," he shrugged in a playful manner.

You sighed, "what am I gonna do with you, Watney?"

"Make me your Vice President?"

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'll settle for Secretary of Agriculture."

"How about the Secretary of Homeland Security?" You smirked.

"But that's the bottom of the line of succession," Mark grunted as he sat up.

"Exactly," you laughed before groaning and cradling your side again.

"Alright, that's enough for today," he pushed himself into a standing position. "No more laughing for... how long does it usually take for broken ribs to heal?"

"Like, six weeks."

"I knew that," he smiled and helped you stand up. "No more laughing for six weeks."

"What you're asking for is impossible," you winced. "You always make me laugh. It's why you're my best friend."

"I'm your best friend?" Mark asked, unable to hide his surprise at the admission. He hesitantly wrapped his arm around your back, worried about making the pain worse in his attempt to help you.

You huffed and leaned into him, "don't let it go to your head, Watney."

"Too late," Mark smiled and led you slowly to your bunk. It wasn't easy for either of you to maneuver with your injuries, but eventually you managed to get settled.

"Comfy?" Watney asked.

"That's a relative term," your eyes softened at him, causing the botanist to go all weak in the knees. What a mess he had gotten himself into... "Are you sure you don't need help getting into bed?"

"You took good care of me Y/L/N, It doesn't hurt so much anymore thanks to you... Maybe if the President thing doesn't work out, you could be a doctor," He leaned his bare shoulder against the ladder.

Your eyes trailed down his chest to the bandages keeping the stitches from view. Your eyes started to burn, but you pushed it down and looked up to the bunk above you. "And take Beck's job? As if~"

Mark could almost believe things were normal. That they weren't all alone in a desolate wasteland. You were an anchor. He wasn't sure what he'd do if you weren't here. Would he have the strength to try? This would have broken most normal people... was he one of them? Or was he like you? Brave, selfless, and full of resolve to keep going. His chest hurt. You had gone looking for him... and now you were here. It was his turn to be your anchor.

You felt his eyes on you, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet them. You felt pathetic. Once again, Watney had to pick you up when you were down. For as long as you'd known him, Mark had been your helping hand. He had a sixth sense about these things. The moment things go wrong, he's there to dig you out of the rubble. You closed your eyes and remembered being in orbit. You remembered how he covered your hand with his and made everything okay again. You couldn't keep relying on him like this. It was your turn to be his helping hand.

"Somebody's sleepy~" Mark cut through the silence.

"It's been a day," you sighed and dragged your eyes to meet his.

"A sol," he corrected.

"Smartass," you fought the urge to chuckle. "Go to bed, before I get up and make you..."

"Don't need to tell me twice," He raised his hands in defeat. Mark moved to leave, but paused and grabbed your hand. "Hey Y/N?"

"Y-yeah?"

He gave your hand the gentlest of squeezes, "you're my best friend too..."

You glowed as the smile reached your eyes.

"Don't let it go to your head," he winked.

"Too late."

You held onto Mark a little tighter.

....................

Taglist: @jolovesfandoms

If you would like to be added to my taglist, feel free to reach out!

Thank you for reading!

[orange-cheetah]

[N1A1] Chapter 1: Mash Burnedead and the Forest of Forewarning

(from Mash Burnedead and the Book of Adventures) Choose what Mash does next! Poll under Read More.

[masterlist]

▷Aー1

“Where is this?”

It was a dark forest blowing with a damp breeze.

The presence of living things could be felt everywhere among the trees and flowers growing thickly in search of sunlight. However, only darkness could be seen when one turns to look.

“Just, where on earth……”

Mash Burnedead runs with his jet-black robes fluttering and his mushroom-shaped black hair flowing. He is a first-year student at Easton Magic Academy, a school near this forest.

Night falls early in forests.

Surely this place, too, will soon be swallowed up by the darkness.

Of course, there is a reason why this young man is running alone in the forest at this hour.

A few hours ago―

*

Easton Magic Academy is located at the top of a steep mountain with strangely-shaped rocks that reach for the sky.

After finishing class, Mash Burnedead returns to Adler House, one of the three student dormitories under Easton that symbolizes "courage and conviction."

The reason why he returned a little later than the other students is probably because he was off shopping somewhere. As proof of that, look, he has a paper bag in his hand―

"......?"

As Mash reaches out to open the door, he notices something.

The paper bag that should’ve been in his hand until just a second ago is gone.

"Huh?"

Mash flaps his long robe, taking it off a little and turning it inside out to search through it, but he can't find it anywhere.

"Why?"

It contained freshly-baked cream puffs that he had gone all the way into town after school to buy. He ate most of them on the way back to the dormitory, but he did save three as tomorrow morning's snack―

Mash, who is looking at his empty hands in wonder, hears a small noise.

"......!"

Turning around in a second, Mash sees it.

A small black creature crawled into the bushes beside him.

Wait, that creature is holding the paper bag containing the three cream puffs!

Clenching his fists, Mash was about to follow it when he heard his name called from behind.

"Mash-kun, what's wrong?"

"Ah, Finn-kun."

Turning his head in a matter of seconds again, he found his roommate, Finn Ames, who lives with him in Room 302 of house Adler. Finn, wearing the same Adler dormitory robe as Mash, asks in confusion.

“Your neck seems to be spinning; are you okay?”

"I'm not okay."

“Ehh!? Can I have a look?”

As he told a worried Finn that “it's not my neck,'' Mash sat down on his knees in disappointment.

"They took away…… cream puffs……"

"Eh, who did!?"

"A small creature, about this size, and black……"

Mash holds up both hands as though holding a cat and repeats “about this size.” Finn crouches too, saying “about this size?” and moved his hands like he’s holding a cat in the same way.

“No, maybe it’s more like this.”

“Eh? Isn’t it the same?”

“No, it feels a little bigger.”

Finn, who has gone along with Mash's particularity, corrected himself with an “about this size, right.'' Looking as though he’s reminded of something, he says:

"Ah, then it might be the work of a troll. There are rumors that trolls have been appearing around here lately, you know."

“Troll?”

"Yeah, it's rumored that even though it's small, it's a big eater. The other day, the cafeteria’s foodstuff went missing as well. Maybe Mash-kun's cream puffs too..."

Before Finn could finish speaking, Mash, who had been slumped until a moment ago, flew out.

"I'll go get them back."

*

Furthermore, there was something unfamiliar here.

It's a square mound of earth. Although it is only a few dozen centimeters high, it measures 6 or 7 meters square and looks like a small stage. But, it's only dirt.

Looking closely, one could see that a perfect circle has been drawn on the mound with straw or something.

Two short lines are in the center of that circle.

Just as he was wondering if this was a bit too simple for a magic circle, a small black shadow appeared without a sound in the center of the circle.

"!"

It's the troll.

The troll he had been looking for was beckoning Mash from the top of the mound.

●　It was convenient for the troll to come out, so approach it as invited　》》　To Ａ―７

●　This is a trap. Let's observe the situation without going up on the mound　》》　To Ａ―２４

[Notes: The circle seems to be a sumo wrestling ring.

My initial plan was to have the poll up for two days, but apparently polls on tumblr can only be set to either one day or one week. I'm going with one day for now; we'll see how it goes!]

[klainepolls]

unexpected- day 3 of 7

by: @kurtsascot

day 1, day 2

POLL AT END DECIDES BLAINE’S LIE

———

“Wait-My apartment’s only ten minutes away. Let me lend you some clothes. At least.” Blaine hurries to add, “You can use my laundry room to treat that stain.”

Kurt blinks, taken aback. “Really?”

For a second, Blaine wonders if he overstepped, but Kurt doesn’t look put off. He looks flattered? Maybe? “Really.” Blaine shoves his bare hands into his pockets. Now that the coffee is cooling, his hands are starting to feel the bite in the air, and the skin between his fingers is starting to stick to itself. His pockets offer some insulation. And having someplace to put his hands stops him from fidgeting. “I don’t mind.” Spending more time with Kurt is the opposite of a problem.

Kurt fights a smile. “I mean- Are you sure? I… I wouldn’t want to impose,” he drawls, searching Blaine’s face for any hesitation.

“It’s the least I can do.” Blaine gives Kurt’s arm a playful poke, trying to put on a convincing front of confidence while his heart threatens to pound out of his chest. “Unless you would rather launder Vivienne Westwood over a public sink of questionable cleanliness?” He quips.

“No,” Kurt laughs, “No, I would not.”

He exhales, airy and deliberate, his relief dancing and lingering under Blaine’s skin, and ushers Blaine forward, “Lead the way, my assailant.”

The walk back Blaine’s is quiet. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not exactly relaxed either; the bustle of New York City mid-morning doesn’t lend itself to easy conversation.

Besides, Blaine’s far too nervous to think of anything coherent to say.

He can’t resist stealing a few glances. Kurt catches him a couple times, but only smiles, and doesn’t question it.

It’s not until Blaine’s unlocking his front door that it hits him that he’s really about to lead Kurt into his apartment, and a wave of panic floods his chest.

“Sorry,” Blaine says as soon as steps through the doorway, hurrying over to the coffee table to tidy up, flinging his school bag somewhere near the front door. His apartment is clean- Blaine values comfort and he’s naturally a tidy person, but he would have put more effort into making his place ready for visitors if he knew he was going to bringing Kurt here- “It’s a bit of a mess.”

Kurt makes a noise in protest, shutting the door behind him. “You weren’t expecting company. I don’t mind.” He watches Blaine straighten the assortment of coursework strewn over his living area and tilts his head. “You don’t have to clean up for me,” he chuckles, then reprimands, “Didn’t you say you were running late? You don’t look like you are in a hurry.”

Blaine feels himself blush, focusing his attention on his hands and the clutter beneath them. “Ah, well-” What’s he supposed to say?! He doesn’t want to appear obsessive. Even if he kind of is. “It took me forever to get my coffee-“

Kurt cuts in, shrugging off his coat, “It looked like they were running on a skeleton crew-“

“They were,” Blaine finishes, trying not to stare at Kurt’s flexed hands and how his arms fill and stretch his dress shirt, as he loops his puffer around his forearm. “I want to help you- I wasn’t going to make it to class anyway.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “What class?”

[ilikerafayelwaytoomuch]

Lemuria Pottery- Chapter one

Rafayel x y/n, pottery au?

You decide to take some pottery classes at a pottery studio run by Rafayel...

I rushed through the doors of the quaint, small, pottery studio downtown. l had always wanted to take a class here, drawn to the decor I could spot from the outside. The problem was, I had no one to go with. I had tried, and failed, many times to get someone to go with me. So I finally bit the bullet and decided to just take a pottery class alone. How bad could it be? Then I woke up late the day of the class, threw on some clothes and did my makeup on the way there. When I stepped, or really burst, through the doors, I was greeted by many eyes on me, which made me regret even coming in the first place. Even more so when it appeared everyone was there as a couple, or at least friends, but the closeness of many of them told me otherwise. “You must be (y/n)?” a voice asked. I turned to see a man tying on an apron with a smile. I nodded, stunned by his appearance and suddenly regretting my outfit choice. I had no time to really think, just throwing on some sweats and a tee shirt. “Glad you made it, there should be an open seat there,” he pointed to an empty station near the back of the room. I nodded and quickly grabbed an apron, as everyone else already had and sat down as quickly as possible. Off to such a great, embarrassing start.

The class was taught by the same man who had greeted me at the door. He introduced himself as Rafayel, the owner of the studio. We all got started, sketching a design and then learning to throw the clay on the wheel. The class I had signed up for was actually a set of classes, as I wanted to do this right. Today was the first of three. After Rafayel explained the basics of what to do, he let us try it ourselves, reminding us that today was more about getting a feel for the art, rather than completing our entire project in that class. I had decided to play it safe and attempt to make a simplistic vase. But that was more for next week, today I was just focusing on trying to understand what affected the clay and how. Needless to say, I was struggling. I took a peek around the room, watching a couple working together on their piece. Another couple just having fun with the clay. Rafayel walked around, helping those he could. I sighed. This was a terrible idea. I should have known the class would be filled with couples. I sighed, looking down at the clump of clay on my wheel. I couldn’t let my money go to waste though, so I had to make this vase and I wanted it to be good. So I began again, attempting to slowly press down my foot on the pedal and wrapping my hands around the clay to shape it. It thunked against my hands, the wheel beginning to spin too fast before I quickly lifted my foot off the pedal in fear of the clump flying across the room. Unknown to me, Rafayel had watched the scene, a small smirk on his face. “Try adding some more water to it,” he instructed me. I looked up at him, his presence only just being known to me. “Oh, uh, okay,” I answered. I moved my hands to the bowl of water next to me and dipped my hands in, adding water to the clay. I looked up at him and he nodded. So I continued, readying my hands and beginning to add pressure to the pedal to make the wheel spin. And it all went wrong. I miscalculated the pressure my foot was adding, making the wheel spin far faster than it should. The added water made the clay slide around, flinging small clumps of watery clay onto my face and clothes. I yelped, immediately moving my hands away and lifting my foot up. But the clay didn’t like not being held while spinning fast and it jumped off of the wheel straight towards Rafayel. He was quick, catching it before it hit him in the stomach. My jaw dropped in shock. “Oh my God…I am so sorry,” I said, stunned. “I- well, I don't even know what happened. Good God this is the worst. I’m sorry-” I began stuttering, still in utter shock. I heard a gentle laugh and looked to see Rafayel trying hard not to laugh. Failing, and bursting into laughter. 

“Is your foot made of lead? I’ve never seen a wheel spin so fast!” he laughed, causing some of the couples to look over and see what he was laughing at, some hiding their laughter from me. My face heated up and I began to sweat, completely embarrassed and feeling a panic attack approach. I lowered my head, screaming at my brain to calm down and ignore their laughter. Why did I think this was a good idea? Slowly, Rafayel crouched down and met my eyes, tears beginning to well up in them and I avoided eye contact. “Hey,” he softly said, attempting to grab my attention, but failing to grab my eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s no big deal, really. I’ve done plenty worse in my days. Why don’t you go wash up and then I can help you when you’re feeling a bit better, yeah?” I nodded, wanting to get away and honestly never come back to this studio again. “Head up the stairs and go in the door to the right. There’s a bathroom down the hall to the left, second door on the left, got it?” I nodded, though was a bit confused on where this supposed bathroom was. I was under the impression this studio only had one floor. Rafayel extended his hand to me and I nervously took it, him pulling me to my feet and nodding his head in the direction of a staircase I had only just now noticed. I quickly made my way to the stairs, not daring to look at anyone in the room. How embarrassing. 

There was only one door when you went up the stairs, so that’s the one I went through and was suddenly confused. I was met with the view of a cluttered, but chic living room. Does Rafayel live above the pottery studio? Why had he told me to go up here for a bathroom? Blinking away some tears that had escaped, I turned to the left to see a hallway and went down it to find a bathroom. It was a standard bathroom, though honestly it was much easier to calm down in than a typical public restroom. I sat on the edge of the bath, steadying my breath. Once I began to feel calmer, the embarrassment slightly less painful, I stood to take in my appearance. I had bits of clay everywhere. I winced at the sight. I turned on the sink and attempted to get off as much as I could, frowning as I realized my makeup would come off with it. It was that or clay all over my face, so I chose no makeup and clay. I took another deep breath before opening the door and heading back through what I assumed was Rafayel’s place. I felt like I was impeding on his space, but I couldn’t help but glance at the artwork spread throughout. There were gorgeous paintings as well as pottery, equally as aesthetic. I shut the door behind me and quickly made my way back downstairs and to my seat. Thankfully, no one seemed to pay attention to it. I knew most people wouldn’t even remember the fiasco, instead remembering how much fun they had with their significant other, but I surely would remember. A few minutes after I sat down, Rafayel came over to me. “I’m sorry again, I really didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, keeping his voice down for only me to hear. I shook my head. 

“You’re fine, really. It’s just a me thing,” I chuckled. He nodded. 

“Better now though? Wanna try again?” he asked. I nodded. He grabbed a nearby chair and sat it down next to mine, sitting in it. I grew nervous at the close proximity. He was close. “I’ll start with the pressure on the wheel, think of it like you’re driving, you don’t want to floor it. I’ll begin and then you join- are you listening?” he suddenly tilted his head, smirking. I snapped out of whatever that was and nodded. “You’re going to use the pedal and then I’ll join,” I repeated his instructions. He nodded and smiled. He pressed down, the wheel beginning to spin. Then nodded at me. I moved my foot next to his, pressing down. “Up a bit, you’re putting more pressure than I am,” he noted. I nodded, doing as he said. “There, just like that, yeah. Perfect. See? Now it’s at a manageable pace.” I nodded. He took his foot off the pedal, just allowing me to get used to it, encouraging me or telling me to let up a bit. “Now that you have that, try doing what you did earlier, but this time it's not spinning quite so fast. Make sure to use a bit more water and make sure you have a good hold on the clay.” I nodded and slowly did as he instructed, finally successfully making the clay move. I felt myself begin to smile, finally getting somewhere as the clay raised with my hands. “Perfect,” I heard Rafayel say, looking to see him smile before standing and placing a hand on my shoulder before going to go help a couple who was struggling. I spent the rest of the class getting used to the feeling of the clay and attempting to shape it in different ways. 

[asexual-fandom-queen]

My Canadian 9-1-1 Spin-Off Dreams

Okay so this post has reminded me that I have a whole Canadian 9-1-1 spin-off plotted and ready to go, so I'm gonna scream about it here in case anyone cares

It's called 9-1-1 True North obviously (the lyrics in the Canadian national anthem refer to Canada as the "true north, strong and free" and since they went the nickname route with Lonestar, I think True North tracks)

It's set in Vancouver, primarily because if Hollywood is gonna film fucking half their shows there, the least they could do is set something in the actual city! Also, as far as Canadian winters go, it's on the milder side, so they can do one or two snow episodes a season without needing to make it their entire personality. They have the ocean for water emergencies, they're on a faultline for earthquake drama (even if they don't actually feel most of the earthquakes they get like California does), and BC unfortunately also has a terrible wildfire season.

And that's just on the natural disaster front! Vancouver as a city has a lot of interesting social issues to bring in that human element 9-1-1 likes so much. Vancouver's Downtown East Side is often referred to as "Canada's poorest postal code." The city has an incredibly deep socioeconomic divide that exacerbates an ongoing housing and cost of living crisis. It is one of the most ethnically diverse cities in Canada, an estimated 55% of its residents are non-white, and Indigenous folks have called the Vancouver area home for over 10,000 years, specifically members of the Squamish, Musqueam, and Tsleil-Waututh Nations.

Since I've sold you on location, let me line up some vague character profiles to get invested in (bearing in mind, it's gonna feel a bit like the intro to Lonestar where it's just a Diversity Carousel, but I promise, they're actually fleshed out and 3-dimensional in the show, this is just the pitch)

DETS Social Worker Girl. She's a late 20-something with a brand new MSW working at a not-for-profit in the Downtown East Side. Her whole thing is harm reduction and de-escalation and finding ways to help without involving the police. She's got a heart of gold, but also grew up upper-middle-class and has a bit of a White Savior thing going on the show absolutely gets to call her on, and a big part of her arc is learning to be of service without centering herself as the hero.

The Crystal Highway Of Metro Vancouver. If you've watched the Canadian medical drama Skymed (which if you're a 9-1-1 fan who hasn't, get on that immediately) you're familiar with Crys's whole archetype. An Indigenous character who isn't just Indigenous but who the narrative also deeply respects by allowing their Indigenous identity to be a core aspect of who they are. I see his character struggling a bit with that "foot in two worlds" feeling. He brushes elbows with DETS Social Worker on various calls, and their budding romance gets to be the Buck/Abby slash TK/Carlos romantic backbone, at least of the first season.

Every Buck Needs An Eddie (And Vice Versa). Because what's an ensemble cast procedural without a Work Bestie dynamic? Buck and Eddie. Chim and Hen. Paul and Marjan. You get it. He's first-generation Indian Canadian, he's a bit of a goof, a sweet sunshine child. Also, since Vancouver is very much Canada's Portland, I don't think it's off the table for him, 9-1-1's Crystal Highway, and DETS Social Worker to end up getting poly with it in later seasons. (Also, I think in the hands of a respectful writing team who ensure their characters are fully fleshed out and not just tokenized representation to tick boxes, a running gag of "not that kind of Indian" between the Work Besties could land)

Disabled Dispatcher Rights. Which I'm a bit surprised neither the OG 9-1-1 or Lonestar has done. 9-1-1 as a franchise does a lot to ensure diversity in its cast, but I think it's time network TV really steps it up with better disability rep. Like Bobby in Trackers proves (and like Felicity Smoak could have proved if the writers hadn't magically fixed her spinal injury) you can be a badass from a desk and contribute just as much to the success of the team, thank you very much.

Firehouse Mom Who Is Tired And Gay. And so butch. So, so butch. Please, ABC I'm begging you. One butch woman on my screen. You can do it. I know you can. We've had Bobby, and we've had Owen, but it's time for a Lady Cap. And while I'm not saying you have to cast Jane Lynch... I just think you should think about it.

In short, the next 9-1-1 should be set in Vancouver, and if I can get just 10 minutes alone in a room with Tim Minear, I think he'll see the vision...

[wytfut]

Excelsior Henderson 25+

This past weekend a couple of X owners I know within the community took off to Born Free Texas for rally down there. Frank Nowacyzk and Mike Seastrome.... And yes nonbelievers, they rode them there.

Looking at the pictures, looked like a great time.... home style with no frills. Just my type of gathering.

They met John Oates who was also attending. .... as an aside.

In their comments reporting back to all of us nonparticipants of the rally..... There was a comment made, that most of folks attracted to the 2 X's, had never seen one. And I'd possibly assume never heard of one too.

This comment astounds me. As long as I've owned my X, it never ends...... "what is that?" or "I've never seen one". It makes me giggle.

In the early years of EH (1999-2000), EH factory.... pounded marketing. Being in the EH world, it surprises me how much money was spent to get the name out there. Myself I'm constantly falling across marketing items I had no idea were even thought of.

Even with all of the marketing they did, when I bought my X, it was surprising how many motorcycle people hadn't ever heard of them. And there was a dealership right here in Lincoln Nebraska.

Occasionally, thru the years I'd run into "older bikers" who had been present at Daytona or Sturgis (1997ish) unveiling of the "new" motorcycle. Nice to see their grins, remembering those events.

OR.... a really old biker, who knew of the old name (1911-1931), and knew someone who had one back in the day .... usually 40's. Really enjoyed meeting these guys.... lots of hidden/unknown history. Easy to laugh here, as before I knew about EH, I had no idea there was such a critter back in that era either. Same battle?

Being neck deep into these fine beasts, I find it hard to understand that more people don't know about them. From a human nature point of view. Yeah.... its not accurate.

A large portion of owners in this community, have gone out of our ways to promote the bikes name. This tumblr account, Youtube, and owners being involved with the motorcycle community, a website, the facebook page, rally's, pokerruns, etc.

Us as a community, we will show up with all of our X patches, tshirts, dress shirts, jackets, coats, ball caps, stickers..... etc etc. And its almost comical the reaction we get from the ignorant.

My thoughts partially, its due to attrition. The older bikers with the old timey stories are dying off. Its not hard to figure out...

Back in 1999, when Super X first came out, and you were 25 years old, that'd make you at least 50 now. Another side of it, heavy cruisers (the category X's fit in), are becoming passe. This is not the motorcycle making money in the current market, unlike the mid90's thru around 2015 or so. Back then HD had 6 month waiting lists, as they couldn't keep up with the demand.

In turn it means less people involved in the heavy cruiser class. Less knowledge of "other" motorcycles..... etc.

As well known, I'm all about these bikes, I've got the sickness. If I'm around another biker for a bit of time, and I trust them.... I promote/offer them to "take it for a spin". Besides promoting the "name", its important to me, that people get to experience the ride...... "I just road an Excelsior Henderson, of which less than 2000 were ever made". That's quite quite the statement a person can say to themselves and friends. I beam when I do that...

Our community seems to be growing older. From what I can figure, I'm #5 in age seniority. I maybe wrong, as I just got back onto facebook on the EH page, I don't know most of them.

But looking at that facebook page..... there is quite a few younger owners out there..... lots in late 30's to their late 40's.

I keep hoping that we can attract even younger owners,.... owners in their early 20's. But the current motorcycle trends are not heavy cruisers, and this age group is all about buying power. Not sure, but there maybe 1 or 2 in this age group that I know about, but not their names.

When I get asked "what is this".... I try my hardest to pace myself. I can easily come across as some sort of nut, almost chasing the inquisitive away, puking out irrelevant trivia that nobody cares about.

The good meetings, I keep my answers short, testing the water, of this person (are they really interested? or are they just being polite?).

As far as I know, I've only gotten one person interested enough to go buy one. Thats a lot of tongue wagging.... LOLOLOLOLOL

Story is, Frank and Mike rode there and back with NO ISSUES. There was a long period of time, where any owner taking his X out for a spin questioned themselves "what kind of adventure will occur today?".

Old guys I used to ride with back in the day, recommended I drag a big commercial magnet behind my bike. And of course lots of laughs.

Most likely promoting our bikes is going to be never ending. But its fun part of owning one.

Its cool to think, that someday, our bikes will become just as valuable as the Excelsiors and Hendersons of old are today. Very probable though if that happens, it'll be long after I'm gone.

Long live Excelsior Henderson!! An American made motorcycle company...

[sparkylilacs]

The Amazing Adventures of Spider-Kid!

Chapter 3

The next morning I get ready for yet another new school. My record for shortest time spent at a new school was half a day. In the fifth grade I got a teacher to quit and was kicked out when I brought a spider's egg sack to class and it hatched all over his desk after he confiscated my pencil bag for coloring during lecture. Apparently he was a humongous arachnophobe. I didn't have any books for this school yet so I packed my backpack with only a notebook (for doodling), my personal project folder, and a sack lunch Paco handed out to all us kids as we left. The twins turned right at the corner and I followed Wanda and Hey to the left and presumably to the high school. Or not, sometimes other kids in group homes had led me off wrong roads then ditched me so I'd be late. Or just lost, with some of them it was hard to tell. I never actually got lost, though I was often late, I have an amazing sense of direction. In the hall kids were buzzing in every direction. 

My first room was English literature. I got there no problem since I'm used to commotion. The teacher started by saying the basic speech on how she hoped I would feel welcome and asked me what some of my hobbies were. "I like to free climb, and practice kickboxing," I say. Sure, I am interested in those things and could say what my real hobbies are, reading comics and researching random stuff on the internet, but I find introducing myself this way gives me more space. The teacher said my hobbies were interesting and asked me to sit down. When she told us to turn to page fifty in the textbook, I just sat there wondering how long it would take her to realize I hadn't been issued one yet. My record was three months.

It wasn't to be beat this time. The teacher remembered after a minute and brought one over to me. The rest of the morning classes went the same way, as expected. Lunch things seemed usual as well, but quickly went very wrong. When I entered the cafeteria people stared, I was used to this. But when a boy sauntered up to me and asked "Did they hit you with their canes?" I had no answer. My blank stare told him he needed to clarify and he said, "The old folks you knocked off with the roof tiles". Some kids near enough to hear gave him stop now gestures, but others were getting up. Closing in on me. My mind was spinning over what he meant. Somehow my injuring Mr. Tipton had been told and expanded in rumor fashion all over the school, but the only people who could have talked were the Garcia house kids. 

This was bad, one of the worst people to live with is a snooping gossip. I learned that fast at the group center when I first went into the system. What was worse was how close this boy was to me now. "Why else were you climbing on the roof, who do you think you are Spider-Man?". I gritted my teeth and tried to push past him, but he didn't budge and the others packed around tighter. So I used a classic swipe, not even really a kick. Just to unbalance him and hoping I'd topple the whole group like dominos. Unluckily for me he went forward instead of backward. Taking us both down instead. 

My head was still buzzing a bit from hitting the floor, but I still heard a kid say, "Look she does think she's Spider-Man!". Pushing the boy off me I saw I hadn't zipped my pack all the way and my personal project folder had spilled all over the cafeteria floor. Pictures from newspapers, articles, and maps dated by year of activity splayed out for all around to see. "Spider Girl is better," said another voice. Laughter echoed around me as I scooped up what I could and ran out of there. The buzzing in my head seemed to grow louder as I darted through the hall to the exit. Vaguely I heard Hey shout at me as I passed, but I paid no attention. In the school yard I climbed the fence swiftly, jumped down landing on my feet and immediately continued running. No real direction in mind, just trying to put as much distance between me and the school as possible. Before I had been teased, whispered about, and shoved around, but the Spider-Man file was my biggest secret. I hadn't even shown it to my brother. And now it was all over the new school. 

So I ran unconcerned about punishments for running out in the middle of a school day. I was crossing a street when the buzzing in my head stopped and I heard Hey behind me. But he wasn't as fast as I was. A truck was barreling towards him, without realizing I had changed direction I kicked off a passing car and grabbed Hey, using the momentum to pull him back to the sidewalk with me. He stared at me, eyes big still dazed with shock. "How'd you do that?" he asked. I shrugged, "I do parkour". Shaking his head he said, "Okay, but why did you leave school? Do you know how much trouble you'll be in? I overheard your caseworker talking about how close you are to juvie if you don't shape up,". All my nerves were still tingling but that sent my gut writhing. Ms. Wilt had warned me before for other infractions, yet nothing I had done really could send me to juvenile detention. Although if nobody else would take me in. If I was just too much trouble to be bothered with. It might be all that was left. Acting unconcerned I said, "If you didn't eavesdrop then I wouldn't have run,". Hey gave me a quizzical look then his eyes cleared. He said, "That's Wanda. A real gossip. I think it's how she survives from place to place. Only been here half a year and already she knows everything,". I grunted and started heading down the street. Still not sure I believed he was innocent. Denial was the second language of a confronted gossip.

"Where are you going now?" he asked.

 "Back," I reply.

"How do you know that's the right way? I am barely sure where we are now, and you were running faster,".

"I never get lost,", I shoot over my shoulder, not stopping for him to catch up.