#i should not be up this late studying for bio

[cloudcountry]

kinetochores are so weird like why is there a whole other part of the centriole microtubles attach to why cant they just be like "ya centrioles are were the bullshit happens" like what?

[missarchive]

american jesus ☆

spencer reid

part one part two part three part four

summary; What starts as a seemingly innocent exchange quickly escalates into a game of trust, control, and desire. Spencer offers you more than just financial stability; he gives you attention, adoration, and a connection so intimate it leaves you breathless. From whispered words over the phone to moments of vulnerability, he knows exactly how to unravel you, guiding you to discover sides of yourself you never knew existed.

But with every dollar he deposits into your account and every command that leaves his lips, the boundaries between professionalism and pleasure blur. As you dive deeper into this intoxicating arrangement, you can’t help but wonder: are you just another outlet for his control, or has this brilliant man fallen for you just as deeply as you’ve begun to fall for him?

cw; +18 minors dni, masturbation (f), hints at masturbation (m), nudes, spencer calls reader "little girl" once, phone sex, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, inexperienced reader, pleasure dom spencer, fingering, dirty talk

an; this is the first part in my new series! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. P.s. this is written with jesus reid in mind <3 xoxo

The idea had been absurd from the beginning—a drunken suggestion tossed out during a late-night study break, your friend’s cheeks flushed from the cheap wine you’d both been sipping.

“You should totally do it,” she’d said, her voice a mix of mischief and daring as she scrolled through her phone. “It’s not like you have to… do anything. Just talk. Flirt a little. Get someone to pay for your coffee—or your rent. What’s the harm?”

You’d laughed it off then, brushing aside her suggestion with a half-hearted joke about the kind of people who used those sites. But now, with your landlord’s polite but insistent emails piling up, along with the crushing weight of tuition bills and credit card debt, her words didn’t seem so laughable.

Desperation, you’d learned, had a way of reshaping your boundaries.

So, against every instinct that told you to slam the laptop shut and find another way, you clicked the link she’d jokingly sent that night.

The homepage was a garish blend of pink and gold, its polished glamour doing little to mask the transactional nature of it all. The tagline—"Where connections are made"—was a cruel euphemism for what this really was: a marketplace. A place where companionship, or at least the illusion of it, had a price tag.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time before you finally typed in a username: laceandliterature.

The flood of messages came almost instantly.

@ hungandrich; Hey, beautiful 😘

@ olderseekingyounger; I can show you the world 🌍💎

@ MrNaughty4U; $5k a week to be my princess. No strings attached 💵

It was overwhelming, a cascade of propositions ranging from saccharine to predatory. Some were masked in politeness, others made no effort to conceal their intentions. Your stomach churned as you skimmed through them, the realisation sinking in that you were just another product on a shelf.

And then, just as you were about to close the browser and pretend this had never happened, a new message pinged.

It was short, direct��refreshingly so:

[new chat from: @ thefourthdoctor]

@ thefourthdoctor; Intriguing profile. Shall we talk?

No emojis, no extravagant promises. Just a simple, confident statement.

You hesitated, your heart racing as you clicked on the profile. The picture was blurry, as if taken in haste, but it revealed enough: dark, wavy hair that framed sharp, intelligent eyes behind a pair of glasses. His bio was sparse but intriguing, mentioning books, travel, and a keen interest in "meaningful conversations."

Something about it—about him—felt different. Not just the lack of overtly transactional language, but the quiet assurance in his words.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

This was a bad idea. You knew it was a bad idea. But against your better judgment, you typed out a response.

@ laceandliterature; I suppose that depends on what you want to talk about.

The reply came almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting.

@ thefourthdoctor; Anything but the obvious.

The words were simple, but the subtext was unmistakable: he wasn’t here for what everyone else seemed to want. Or maybe he was just better at hiding it. No sleazy innuendos. No dick pics. No hollow promises of private jets or weekend getaways. Not even the tired clichés of "Hey, gorgeous" or “What’s your body count?”—just a question.

It was startling in its simplicity, almost disarming. And for that exact reason, it made you pause. The absence of the usual vulgarity felt almost like a trick, a trap designed to lure you into a false sense of security. You had learned the hard way to be cautious online. Yet, despite yourself, you couldn’t help but be intrigued.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you glanced at his username again.

A click brought up his profile, your curiosity outweighing your skepticism. The photo was blurry, clearly taken without much thought to lighting or angles. It wasn’t like the polished, professional headshots some of the other profiles sported. Still, you could make out the basics: slightly messy, long curly dark hair, intelligent eyes framed by glasses, and an awkward sort of handsomeness that felt... real.

The bio was brief—almost frustratingly so.

"Bibliophile. Traveler. Interested in meaningful conversations and unconventional connections."

It lacked the arrogance and ostentation of the others you’d scrolled past, the ones who listed their wealth or their penchant for “petite brunettes.” Instead, it was vague, yet oddly specific in its sincerity.

Your chest tightened, a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity tugging at you. Was this calculated, or was it simply honest? And why did it feel more dangerous than the others?

Still, you typed.

Your heartbeat quickened as you debated your next move. The smart thing would be to leave it at that, maybe even block him. After all, you weren’t here for emotional entanglements. This was supposed to be transactional—a simple trade: your time and charm for their money and attention. A means to an end.

Yet, against your better judgment, you stayed.

@ laceandliterature; The obvious is easier to avoid than you think, but meaningful conversations? That’s a tall order here.

There was a long pause, long enough that you started to wonder if you’d misjudged him. But then, the reply came:

@ thefourthdoctor; It depends on who you’re talking to.

You stared at the screen, the simplicity of his words sending a ripple of unease through you. There was no bravado, no performance. He was direct, confident, and—most dangerously—intriguing.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you debated what to say next. This was different from the other messages. He wasn’t dangling wealth in front of you like a shiny object or trying to buy your interest with empty promises.

And yet, the very absence of those things made you wonder what he wanted. Because he wanted something—everyone on this site did. That was the nature of it.

@ laceandliterature; Okay. What do you want to talk about?

His reply was immediate, as if he’d been waiting for you to ask:

@ thefourthdoctor; Tell me what brought you here.

The question hit like a dart, sharp and precise. Your stomach tightened as you read it again, the blunt honesty of it stripping away the thin veil you’d been hiding behind. No one had asked that before—not like this.

Most of the messages you’d received had operated on unspoken rules: you pretend this is normal, and they pretend they’re just being generous. But this man wasn’t pretending. He was asking you to be real in a space built on pretense.

And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you felt compelled to answer.

Your fingers trembled slightly over the keyboard. What could you even say? The truth? That you were drowning under the weight of your bills, your student loans, your own stubborn pride? That desperation had led you here, to a website where relationships had price tags and intimacy was commodified?

But what stopped you wasn’t the shame of your situation—it was him. The way he asked, as if the answer mattered. As if you mattered.

The tension in your chest twisted tighter as you typed.

@ laceandliterature; The same thing that brings everyone here, I suppose. Necessity.

You hit send before you could overthink it, before you could soften the edges of the truth. The reply came quickly.

@ thefourthdoctor; Necessity takes many forms. Which is yours?

You stared at the screen, his words pulling something loose inside you. This wasn’t idle curiosity. He was pushing you, peeling back the layers you hadn’t even realized you were wearing. And damn it, you wanted to push back.

@ laceandliterature; Does it matter?

You wrote, the edge in your tone slipping into the words.

The pause before his reply was longer this time, long enough to make you wonder if you’d misstepped. But then it came, and it was nothing you expected.

@ thefourthdoctor; It matters if you want it to.

The simplicity of his words sent a jolt through you, more potent than any overture of wealth or charm could have been. There was no condescension, no judgment. Just quiet, unnerving confidence.

You leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. These conversations were supposed to be easy—shallow exchanges where you could slip into a version of yourself that didn’t feel the weight of real life pressing down on her. But with him, there was no slipping into anything.

He wasn’t letting you.

@ laceandliterature; What about you?

You typed, throwing the question back at him, daring him to offer you the same vulnerability he was asking of you. 

@ laceandliterature; Why are you here?

His reply was immediate, almost as if he’d been expecting the question.

@ thefourthdoctor; Curiosity.

You frowned at the screen, the single word both frustrating and enticing. It was vague but deliberate, leaving just enough room for interpretation to keep you hooked.

@ laceandliterature; Curiosity about what? 

The next message sent a shiver through you:

@ thefourthdoctor; You.

Your breath caught. One word, and yet it felt like he’d reached through the screen, pulling you closer, tethering you to him in a way that was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

You hesitated, the heat rising in your cheeks as you considered how to respond. This wasn’t the typical transactional banter you’d anticipated when you signed up. He wasn’t offering money or promises of luxury. He wasn’t trying to seduce you with extravagance. Instead, he was drawing you in with something far more dangerous: attention.

And the worst part? You wanted it.

@ laceandliterature; Careful. That kind of curiosity can be expensive.

This time, the pause felt deliberate, a beat of silence meant to let your words settle. When his reply came, it was sharp, confident, and devastatingly effective.

@ thefourthdoctor; I don’t mind paying for what I value. Isn’t that what this is about, anyway?

Your breath hitched, the implications of his words hitting you like a shockwave. This wasn’t flirtation—it was a proposition. But not the kind you’d grown to expect on this site. He wasn’t offering to buy your time or affection outright; he was telling you that he saw something in you worth pursuing.

And that made him infinitely more dangerous.

Your heart raced as you stared at the screen, torn between the instinct to pull back and the magnetic pull of his presence. This wasn’t just about money anymore. This was about control, power, the careful dance of who would give and who would take.

You sat frozen, his last message glowing on the screen like an unspoken dare.

"I don’t mind paying for what I value."

The words reverberated through you, sharp and calculated, leaving no room for misinterpretation. This wasn’t a line meant to charm or impress. It was a statement of intent—a declaration of control.

And it was working.

Your chest tightened as you typed, your fingers moving before your brain caught up.

@ laceandliterature; Value is subjective.

The moment you hit send, you regretted it. It felt flippant, like you were trying to undermine the weight of his words. But maybe that was exactly what you needed to do—to wrest back some semblance of control in this conversation that was starting to feel far too intimate.

The reply came after a pause that felt excruciatingly long:

@ thefourthdoctor; It is. But I’m a man who knows how to discern.

Your throat tightened, the confidence in his words striking a chord deep within you. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was setting the rules. And despite yourself, you found it maddeningly enticing.

@ laceandliterature; Discernment is rare here. 

You replied, leaning into the dynamic, testing the boundaries of this strange connection.

His next message came faster this time, as if he’d been waiting for you to lean in:

@ thefourthdoctor; So is honesty. Tell me, how rare are you?

Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing as you stared at the question. It wasn’t what you expected—not here, not from someone you’d never met. And yet, it was the kind of question you couldn’t dismiss with a coy quip or vague answer.

@ laceandliterature; Enough to know my worth. 

You typed, surprising even yourself with the boldness of your response.

His reply came swiftly.

@ thefourthdoctor; Good. Then you’ll understand why I won’t insult you with empty offers. Tell me what you want.

Your pulse quickened. There it was—the shift you’d been waiting for, the moment the conversation turned from hypothetical to concrete. But this was different from the others. He wasn’t throwing numbers at you, wasn’t dangling luxury in front of you like bait. He was putting the power in your hands, asking you to decide the terms.

It was intoxicating. And terrifying.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. What did you want? Money was the obvious answer—wasn’t it? That was why you were here in the first place. But now, with him, it didn’t feel so simple.

@ laceandliterature; That depends… What are you offering?

The pause before his response was agonizing, each second stretching longer than the last. And then it came:

@ thefourthdoctor; Time. Money. Attention. Answers, if you’re brave enough to ask the right questions.

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy cloak. He wasn’t offering material things, at least not yet. He was offering something far more valuable—and far more dangerous.

You swallowed hard, your palms damp as you considered your next move. He’d shifted the power dynamic yet again, pulling you deeper into a game you weren’t entirely sure you knew how to play.

@ laceandliterature; And what do you want in return?

The question leaving you more vulnerable than you cared to admit.

His response was immediate, his words a quiet, commanding echo in your mind:

@ thefourthdoctor; Exactly what you’re willing to give me.

The simplicity of his answer hit you harder than any declaration of wealth or desire could have. It wasn’t just about money or power or control—it was about you. Your choices, your limits, your willingness to engage in this careful, intoxicating dance.

And that realisation sent a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, you stared at the screen, your pulse thrumming in your ears. You could walk away now. Close the laptop, block his profile, and pretend this never happened. But the truth was, you didn’t want to.

Because for the first time since you’d joined this site, you felt seen. Not as an object, not as a commodity, but as a person.

His words clung to you, each syllable daring you to define what you were prepared to offer. He was turning the mirror back on you, forcing you to confront not just the situation but yourself.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn’t playing by the rules you expected, and that made him unpredictable. Dangerous. But it also made him irresistible.

@ laceandliterature; That’s a clever way of saying nothing. Ambiguity suits you.

The reply came quickly, almost as if he’d anticipated your deflection.

@ thefourthdoctor; Clarity can be earned, if you’re willing to play the game.

Your breath hitched. There it was again—that quiet, assured confidence that pulled you in despite every warning bell ringing in your head. He wasn’t offering platitudes or empty promises. He was offering a challenge, one that was as maddening as it was magnetic.

@ laceandliterature; And what game is that? 

The pause before his answer felt deliberate, a calculated silence that only heightened your anticipation. When his message finally appeared, it sent a shiver through you:

@ laceandliterature; The one we’re already playing. You just haven’t realised it yet.

Your pulse quickened, your palms damp as you stared at the screen. He was toying with you, but not in the way you’d experienced before. This wasn’t about cheap thrills or transparent power plays. This was about control—subtle, seductive, and entirely in his hands.

@ laceandliterature; I don’t recall agreeing to any rules. 

The sharpness of your words masking the unease curling in your chest.

His reply was swift, the confidence in his words cutting through the haze of your thoughts:

@ thefourthdoctor; You didn’t have to. You agreed the moment you responded.

The audacity of his statement left you momentarily breathless. He was right, of course, and that infuriated you. But it also thrilled you in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

@ laceandliterature; You’re awfully sure of yourself

You shot back, your fingers trembling as you hit send. The response came almost immediately.

@ thefourthdoctor; Confidence is the privilege of knowing what you want. Do you?

Your chest tightened, his words striking a nerve you hadn’t expected. What did you want? It was supposed to be simple—a means to an end, a way to solve your financial problems without complicating your life. But now, with him, it felt far from simple.

You hesitated, your mind racing. This wasn’t like the other conversations you’d had on this site. He wasn’t just offering money or gifts; he was offering an exchange of a different kind. One that blurred the lines between power and vulnerability, control and surrender.

@ laceandliterature; I think you already know the answer.

@ thefourthdoctor; Good. Then we’re getting somewhere.

You exhaled sharply, the tension in your chest both exhilarating and suffocating. He had you cornered, and he knew it. But the worst part? You didn’t want to leave.

@ laceandliterature; And where exactly is that? 

The question both a challenge and a plea. His response sent a chill down your spine.

@ thefourthdoctor; Where we figure out if you’re ready to trust me.

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and inescapable. Trust. It was a loaded word, especially here, in a space where every interaction felt transactional. But with him, it didn’t feel like a demand—it felt like an invitation.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling as you typed your response:

@ laceandliterature; Trust is earned, Doctor. How do you plan on earning mine?

The pause before his reply was excruciating, every second stretching longer than the last. And then, finally, his message appeared. 

@ thefourthdoctor; Patience. Honesty. And just enough mystery to keep you coming back.

Your breath caught, the sheer confidence of his words leaving you momentarily speechless. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was rewriting the rules, pulling you deeper into his orbit with every word.

And despite the warning bells ringing in your head, you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more.

@ laceandliterature; Then I suppose we’ll see how well you play. 

@ thefourthdoctor; We already are.

The message lingered on the screen, a challenge and a promise all at once. And as you stared at it, your heart racing and your mind spinning, one thing became clear:

Here’s the continuation, intensifying the emotional and psychological stakes, as well as the power dynamics:

You could feel it in the way your heart raced, in the way your mind struggled to pull together coherent thoughts. It was maddening. Dangerous. And yet, some part of you craved the thrill of it.

@ laceandliterature; What makes you so sure of that?

@ thefourthdoctor; Because you’re still here.

Your lips parted in a soft exhale, the truth in his words sending a shiver down your spine. He was right—you were still here, still engaged, still drawn to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

@ laceandliterature; Maybe I’m just curious.

His response was immediate, his confidence unshaken.

@ thefourthdoctor; Curiosity is the first step to surrender. And you’re closer than you think.

Your pulse quickened, his words striking a nerve you hadn’t realized was exposed. Surrender. The word hung there, heavy and intoxicating, pulling you deeper into his web.

@ laceandliterature; Surrender isn’t in my vocabulary. 

The sharpness of your reply more for your benefit than his.

@ thefourthdoctor; That’s because no one’s ever taught you how to do it properly.

The breath left your lungs in a quiet rush, your body betraying you with a thrill that raced down your spine. He wasn’t just confident—he was audacious, pushing boundaries you didn’t even know you had.

@ laceandliterature; And you think you’re the one to teach me?

@ thefourthdoctor; I know I am.

Your throat tightened, his certainty pulling you further into the undertow. There was no pretence with him, no fumbling for the right words to impress or seduce. He spoke with a quiet authority that was impossible to ignore—and even harder to resist.

@ laceandliterature; You’re awfully sure of yourself, Doctor.

You wrote, the name a deliberate choice, a way to remind yourself that he was still just a man on the other side of a screen.

But his next message stripped away any illusion of simplicity.

@ thefourthdoctor; Confidence is earned. You’ll see.

The promise in his words sent your mind reeling, the tension in your chest building with every passing second. He wasn’t offering wealth or gifts or superficial praise. He was offering himself—his attention, his intellect, his dominance—and it was unlike anything you’d ever encountered.

You leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair as you tried to steady your breathing. This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was a collision of wills, a power struggle where the stakes felt dangerously personal.

@ laceandliterature; And if I decide to stop playing? 

His reply came slower this time, each word calculated, precise.

@ thefourthdoctor; Then I’ll let you go. But we both know you won’t.

Your breath caught, the quiet confidence in his message leaving you stunned. He wasn’t trying to trap you—he was daring you to walk away. And that made him even more dangerous.

@ laceandliterature; You seem very sure of my choices

@ thefourthdoctor; I’m sure of your curiosity. And that’s enough.

You stared at the screen, your heart pounding, your mind spinning. He was right—you were curious. About him, about this, about where it could lead. And that curiosity was already pulling you deeper, binding you to him in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

And as you sat there, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, one thought echoed in your mind:

You weren’t just playing his game anymore.

You were losing.

His words were a masterstroke, the kind of deliberate confidence that didn’t demand submission but invited it, coaxed it out of you with unsettling precision. He wasn’t forcing you into anything. He didn’t have to.

You were leaning in all on your own.

@ laceandliterature; Curiosity is dangerous. 

The words meant as both a warning and a defense. You weren’t sure if you were telling him or reminding yourself.

His reply came almost instantly, as if he’d anticipated your hesitation.

@ thefourthdoctor; It can be, in the wrong hands. But I think you know by now—I don’t intend to hurt you.

Your chest tightened, the unexpected gentleness in his response catching you off guard. It wasn’t a dismissal of your fears; it was an acknowledgment, a reassurance that felt disarmingly genuine.

@ laceandliterature; What do you intend to do, then? 

The pause before his reply was deliberate, stretching just long enough to heighten the tension without breaking it.

@ thefourthdoctor; Challenge you. Teach you. Protect you, if you let me.

Your breath hitched, his words striking a chord deep within you. The power in his offer wasn’t in its force but in its certainty, its quiet promise of control without cruelty, dominance without destruction.

@ laceandliterature; That’s a tall order.

@ thefourthdoctor; I’ve never been afraid of a challenge.

The simplicity of his answer left you momentarily stunned. He wasn’t boasting, wasn’t trying to impress you. He was stating a fact, one that resonated with an authority you couldn’t ignore.

@ laceandliterature; And what do you get out of this?

@ thefourthdoctor; The pleasure of watching you grow. The satisfaction of knowing you’re safe. And maybe, if you’re willing, a connection worth more than either of us expected.

Your chest tightened, his words threading through the cracks in your defences with startling ease. He wasn’t just offering a transaction; he was offering something far deeper, something that terrified and intrigued you in equal measure.

@ laceandliterature; You make it sound so simple.

@ thefourthdoctor; It can be, if you trust me. But I won’t rush you. This is your choice.

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you. He wasn’t demanding anything from you, wasn’t using manipulation or coercion. He was giving you the space to decide, to choose whether to step into the unknown or retreat to the safety of your walls.

@ laceandliterature; What if I don’t know how to trust someone like you?

@ thefourthdoctor; Then I’ll show you how, baby. Step by step. But only if you’re willing.

The kindness in his words was a stark contrast to the intensity of his presence, a reminder that his control wasn’t about overpowering you—it was about guiding you, supporting you, meeting you where you were and pulling you gently forward.

@ laceandliterature; And if I’m not?

@ thefourthdoctor; Then I’ll let you go. But I don’t think you want me to.

The truth in his words hit you like a jolt, your heart racing as you stared at the screen. He was right—you didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want to retreat into the safety of solitude, not when he was offering something so intoxicatingly rare.

@ laceandliterature; You’re very sure of yourself

@ thefourthdoctor; I’m sure of you. And I’m willing to wait until you are too.

The words lingered on the screen, a challenge and a reassurance all at once. He wasn’t just pulling you into his world—he was offering to walk beside you, to guide you through the uncharted territory of trust and surrender.

And as you stared at his message, your pulse thrumming in your ears, one thing became abundantly clear. You wanted to see where this could lead.

Your fingers trembled as you typed your reply.

@ laceandliterature; I don’t know where this is going.

His response came swiftly, his dominance tempered by kindness:

@ thefourthdoctor; Then let me be the one to show you. One step at a time.

When the evening settled and the quiet of your room enveloped you, you found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone. His last message still lingered there:

"Then let me be the one to show you. One step at a time."

Trust. The word had seemed so monumental when he’d said it, and now it felt even heavier in the quiet intimacy of your room.

Your eyes wandered to the package on your desk, the one that had arrived just days ago. The lingerie you’d bought with the money he’d sent—not something you’d ever imagined doing, much less showing anyone. But his insistence had stayed with you.

"This is for you," he’d written. "Because you deserve to feel special."

You’d laughed at the time, unsure how to process the sincerity in his words. But now, with the soft lace spread out in front of you, you felt the weight of his kindness.

On impulse, you slipped it on, the delicate fabric hugging your body in a way that felt both indulgent and empowering. It wasn’t something you’d ever have bought for yourself, but now, wearing it, you understood the quiet confidence it offered.

You caught your reflection in the mirror, your cheeks flushing as you adjusted the straps. The blush-colored lace was intricate and feminine, the perfect balance of modesty and allure. You hesitated, biting your lip as your phone buzzed in your hand.

Finally, you snapped a photo—nothing overly revealing, just the curve of your body hinted at in the soft light, the lace framing your figure. It felt daring, intimate, and, most of all, you felt like his.

With a shaky breath, you typed a caption for the image. 

@ laceandliterature; Thank you. I thought you should see where your funds are going.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, your heart racing as the message left your screen.

@ thefourthdoctor; You’re so beautiful, my little angel.

Your breath caught at the simplicity of his words. There was no embellishment, no flourish—just a quiet, sincere acknowledgment that made your chest tighten.

Another message followed, slower this time, as if he’d chosen each word carefully.

@ thefourthdoctor; Thank you for trusting me with this. How does it make you feel?

His question sent a ripple of warmth through you. He wasn’t just admiring you; he cared about how you felt, ensuring that this moment wasn’t just for him.

@ laceandliterature; It feels… different. In a good way.

The dots danced on the screen before his next message appeared.

@ thefourthdoctor; Good. That’s exactly how it should feel. You deserve to feel confident and cared for.

You smiled despite yourself, the warmth of his words cutting through the lingering nerves. He had a way of making you feel seen, like every action, every choice you made mattered to him.

@ laceandliterature; I wasn’t sure about sending it, I’ve never done anything like that before.

You admitted, your honesty surprising even you.

@ thefourthdoctor; You don’t need to worry. You’re safe with me. Always.

The reassurance in his words settled something deep inside you. He wasn’t just saying it—he meant it, every word carrying the weight of his sincerity.

Before you could respond, your phone vibrated in your hand, his name lighting up the screen. You hadn't expected him to call so soon, but the smile that spread across your face at the sight of his name felt entirely natural.

Your throat pinched, the air suddenly feeling all too warm. Neither of you had ever initiated a call before, what would he sound like? Deciding to push your nerves to the side, you answer the call.

"I was thinking you might not pick up for a moment there," his voice was low and smooth, a hint of amusement dancing through his words. "I hope you know this isn’t just about the photo. It’s about you. What you need, what you want. If you’re ever unsure, tell me. I’ll always listen."

"I guess I just couldn’t help myself," you teased, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at the memory of how vulnerable you'd felt.

"Yeah? Am I living up to the expectation?" he murmured, and you could hear the laughter in his voice. It wasn’t a mocking sort of amusement, just a quiet acknowledgment that you both knew where this conversation was heading. And that, he hoped, neither one of you would shy away from it.

You laughed, a softness you'd never known you were capable of settling into your chest. There had been something so unexpectedly freeing about the experience—about wearing it made you flush with warmth.

“You could say that…”

“What were you hoping for, when you sent me that photo?”

The thought sent an immediate ache through your body, the suggestion of his touch, of the things he might do to you, sending a wave of desire through you. Your mind raced with images of “him” above you, of his hands pinning your wrists to the bed as he thrust into you. The thought was enough to make you flush, the ache of need between your legs becoming almost unbearable.

"Nothing.” You couldn’t even pretend to feign nonchalance when his words had been so unflinchingly honest, when the promise of what lay ahead was so tantalisingly clear.

"I’ll make it easier for you, then. What are you thinking about right now?" he said bluntly, his words sending a rush of heat through your entire body. There was nothing ambiguous or hesitant about his command; he wanted this, and he expected you to do it. "Tell me what you want, angel. I can give you that."

You twist the fabric hem of the lingerie around your fingers nervously, chewing at the dry skin on the edge of your lips. “I- I don’t know how to do this.” 

He chuckles softly, voice still full of kindness. “Then you don’t have to do anything, let me do all the work, baby.”

You’re quiet for a moment, pondering your options. Before nodding to yourself, deciding you’d have to let go of your nerves for the time being if you wanted this to continue.

“Okay.” You whisper, almost inaudibly. He wouldn’t have been able to hear it if he’d not been paying such close attention.

You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of boldness. "I... I've always had this fantasy of being guided by a man... someone who knows what he wants and can show me new pleasures. I’ve never had that chance before… I was hoping maybe that could be you."

"Oh, angel, you have no idea how much I want to fulfil those desires," He purred. "I can be your guide, your teacher, and your lover all in one."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you felt your core tighten with anticipation. "I... I think I'd like that very much."

"I want you to relax and get comfortable for me, can you do that, baby?. Dim the lights, light a candle, whatever you need to do."

Obeying his instructions, you lit a scented candle, filling the room with a soft, flickering glow and a hint of vanilla. You kicked off your shoes and slid under the covers, your heart pounding in your chest.

"That's it, sweet girl," He whispered. "Now, I want you to imagine my hands on your body, caressing your skin, exploring every inch of you. Feel my touch, soft and gentle, as I trace your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts."

As you listened, you closed your eyes, visualising his strong, masculine hands on your body. You imagined his fingers brushing against your sensitive nipples, causing them to harden in response. Soft whimpers escaping your lips as you reach up to cup your breasts, mimicking his touch.

"That's right, angel," he encouraged. "Touch yourself for me. Feel how soft you are, how sweet.”

Your fingers obeyed, teasing your nipples, rolling and tugging at the sensitive peaks. You arched your back, pressing your breasts into your palms, and let out a soft cry of pleasure.

"Do you like that, little girl?" He asked, his voice thick with desire. "I wish you could see what you do to me."

"Yes, Doctor," you breathed, your voice heavy with arousal. “It feels so good."

"Now, slide your hand down your stomach, past your navel, and into the heat between your thighs," he instructed, his voice a seductive command. "Feel how wet you are for me, how your body responds to my words."

Your hand trembled as you obeyed, slipping beneath the covers and finding your way to your core. Your fingers brushed against your wet folds, and you gasped at the sensation.

"Oh, god, baby. You're so wet, aren’t you? I can hear it," He growled. "Rub your fingers along your pussy, coat them with your sweetness.”

You did as he said, moaning as your fingers slipped into your tight cunt. You were so wet, so ready, and the sensation of filling yourself sent waves of pleasure through your body. Taking the phone down your body, you hold it in front of your dripping pussy. Your microphone picking up on the sounds as your fingers slip through your folds.

"What a noisy fucking pussy, that's it, that's my girl," he encouraged. "Fuck yourself with your fingers, slowly at first, imagine it's my cock inside you, claiming your tight little cunt."

Your fingers moved in and out, your pace increasing as your pleasure spiralled. You imagined Spencer's thick, hard length filling you, his powerful body driving into yours.

"Yeah, fuck yourself for me," he urged. "Let go, angel girl. Come for me, and let me hear your sweet cries."

Your fingers worked frantically, your body on the brink of ecstasy. His words, his deep, commanding voice, pushed you over the edge. With a cry of release, you climaxed, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you.

"Oh, my sweet girl," he whispered, whispering soft praise over the phone, his voice filled with satisfaction. "That sounded like a lot, hm? You still with me, beautiful?."

"I know that wasn’t easy for you, but it was beautiful to hear." His voice was soft, filled with sincerity. 

You lay there, breathless and sated, your body still humming with pleasure. "Y-yeah, m still here. Thank you."

"You did so good, such a well behaved girl. Check your phone for me, baby. Look what you did to me."

You froze for a moment, your mind struggling to process exactly what you were looking at. And then it registered—the smooth skin of his stomach, the slight curve of his hip. A moment later, you saw it; his cock, flushed pink tip, half-hard and resting against his stomach. A small pool of cum rested near his belly button.. You flushed all over at the thought, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the photo. There was something so undeniably intimate about the image; something that spoke to the fact that he'd been pleasuring himself while thinking of you.

With a final, breathless goodbye, you end the call. Your heart is still racing, your body tingling with the lingering aftershocks of pleasure. His voice still echoes in your ears, warm and commanding, and the weight of his presence seems to fill the room even though he's no longer on the line. You lean back against the soft cushions on your bed, eyes fluttering closed, letting the soft glow of the lamp wash over you.

You let out a slow exhale, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with the buzz still pulsing beneath your skin. There’s something thrilling, intoxicating about the way he’s able to draw you out, make you vulnerable and yet so sure of yourself all at once. But the moment feels almost too surreal, too indulgent, and you try to calm your racing thoughts when a ping breaks through the haze of your afterglow.

You glance down at your phone, blinking at the notification that has just popped up.

$500 has been deposited into your account.

-for my pretty girl

Your breath catches in your throat as your fingers instinctively swipe open the message. You freeze, your eyes scanning the details with a quickness that betrays your curiosity.

"Doctor Reid," it reads, alongside the substantial amount.

For a moment, time seems to stop, your gaze fixed on the screen as your pulse quickens once more. The money sits there, cool and impersonal, yet its presence is anything but. It’s a gesture—one that feels undeniably generous, but also loaded with unspoken meaning. This isn’t just a transaction. This is him, and everything that came with the promise of his control, his attention, his care.

You’ve known that he was willing to give, but this—this feels different. The amount is so much more than what you’d expected. What did he mean by it? What does he expect now?

You glance at the digits one more time, the weight of his name anchoring the moment. It feels strange to see it. So he was a doctor. 

A tight knot forms in your chest, mixing nerves with something else—something like desire, maybe even gratitude. You bite your lip, unsure how to feel. It was just a phone call, just a moment of shared vulnerability between you. Yet the fact that he’s followed through with this kind of gesture makes everything feel so much more real, so much more complicated.

With a heavy sigh, you set your phone down and run your fingers through your hair, your mind racing as you try to reconcile the thrill of the moment with the heavy responsibility that now feels like it’s creeping in.

At least now you had his name, Doctor Reid.

next part

[bwabys-scenarios]

Ache

Tomoe x Fem!Reader

A/N: sorry the ending is rushed, this has been in my drafts for months so I finished it quickly to banish it from my drafts

!!REPOSTS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: creampie, rough sex, oral(fem!receiving)

if you would like to be added to my nsfw taglist, please comment saying so! make sure you’re taggable, and have your age in your bio!!

taglist:

In the early morning at the shrine, Tomoe is usually busy. Whether it be washing clothes, sweeping the halls, or trying his best to wake up his Mistress for her college classes, he didn’t get much time to relax.

However, this morning was different. Instead of being out and about, Tomoe was tucked away in his room, unreachable by most.

(Name) had been the land goddess for over a year now, but she’d never seen Tomoe act the way he did now.

Whenever he’d help her up onto their ride, or even catch her before she fell, his touch lingered much longer than it should. He’d pull her into his embrace randomly, when it had been rare for him to do that before.

The jealousy was next. (Name) already knew that Tomoe prided himself as her first and main familiar, but he’d become much stricter lately. Usually she allowed both him and Mizuki to sleep in her room, separated by paper walls, but the last few nights ended with Tomoe dragging Mizuki out and forcing (Name) to sleep alone. Now when Mizuki even glanced at you Tomoe would growl defensively with his arm around you.

Recently she realized something. Tomoe’s usual soft gaze had become harsh and… hungry. As if he was looking at food he couldn’t have.

She first noticed the way his eyes followed her when she walked around in only her short night gown and slippers, the end only barely reaching past her ass. The second time he’s accidentally walked in on her changing. It took a second too long for his gaze to shift and him to apologize before closing the door.

That was the last straw. (Name) was determined to find out why he was acting so strange. She quickly dressed herself before marching down the hall. Before she knocked on Tomoe’s door, she paused.

Mizuki and the others had left the shrine to study humans, and that meant the two were alone. Usually that wouldn’t change anything, but Tomoe’s behavior worried her.

‘Why worry, it’s tomoe. He would never hurt me…’ (Name) shook her head and knocked on the door.

“Tomoe? It’s (Name). We need to talk.”

She listens for a moment, hearing only the sound of hitched breathing and panting.

“Go away.”

(Name) nearly gasped at the husky sound of Tomoe’s voice. Was he okay? Better yet, why was just the sound of his voice making her feel so…

“Tomoe, if you don’t come open this door I’ll be calling Mizuki to do it for me. Im worried about you.”

Tomoe huffed, and (Name) could hear the sound of him standing up and approaching the door. She waited, but he didn’t open it.

“Worried for me… stupid. Should be worried for yourself. I can barely control myself with you right there.”

(Name) blinked, placing her hand on the door. She could almost feel his intense body heat through the wood.

“Tomoe… I don’t understand.”

He scoffed. “Oh but you do. You understand well, (Name). I could smell your arousal from a mile away. Don’t play dumb.”

He wasn’t wrong. The way he spoke to her, his hitched breathing and husky voice. She rubbed her legs together, partially in embarrassment, but also to help ease the ache in her cunt.

“Tomoe… are you in heat or something?”

He didn’t answer, only the sound of his breathing to tell her he was still there at the door.

“Please let me in. I don’t want you to suffer like that.”

She could feel his hesitation, the way he reaches to slide the door open, and finally his hand on her wrist.

He pulls her in, pushing her against a wall and crashes his lips into hers. She barely had time to blink before his tongue was slipping into her mouth. He doesn’t even give her time to think.

Tomoe’s hands drift from above her head and down to her nightgown, pulling it up slowly. (Name) shyly tries to hide how wet she was by pressing her legs together.

Once her nightgown is off, Tomoe’s eyes wander down her body. She hadn’t been wearing a bra, so her chest was on full display for him.

“Mmm…”

His hands cup her breasts, fingers pinching her nipples.

“T-Tomoe!” (Name) manages to whimper out. Tomoe stops, his hands visibly shaking.

“Your chance to leave is now, (Name). I won’t be able to stop myself again.”

He waits for her to leave, watching as she slowly coveres her chest.

“No, I’ll stay. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

(Name) tried to make it seem like she was helping him, but her actions were less than noble. She had been in love with Tomoe for a while, so being treated like she was so desperately needed by him made both her heart and cunt ache.

Tomoe studied her for a moment, his eyes trained on hers.

Before she could think her back was hitting the soft surface of Tomoe’s bed. She had forgotten how strong he really was. He was always so gentle with her, but now he was crawling on top on her, his weight keeping her held down.

She reached up to gently run her fingers through his hair. Tomoe noticed this almost immediately, bending slightly so she had better access to his silver locks.

(Name) smiled at Tomoe’s red face. She’d never seen him so blushed before. She wondered if it was just because of his heat or also because she was underneath him.

(Name) was given a chaste kiss before tomoe slid her panties off and scooted down to stare directly at her pussy.

“Tomoe, don’t look!” (Name) whined out, closing her legs shut.

“Shh. Need… taste…”

Her usually eloquently spoken tomoe could barely speak. His hands pried her legs open with enough force to cause bruises. Tomorrow he would be ashamed and gently care for her, but today that was the last thing on his mind.

(Name) didn’t have time to prepare, his tongue was already inside her. She let out a moan, gripping his hair less gently than she wanted to. Tomoe didn’t seem to mind though, he continued tongue fucking her while his fingers rubbed her clit.

“F-Fuck, Tomoe!”

She mewled, cumming on his tongue. Tomoe was quick to pin her down after her orgasm, positioning his cock at her entrance. “Can’t take it… need you so bad…”

He pushed into her, not even stopping to give her a moment to get used to his length. She grit her teeth, baring the pain before it melted away into pleasure.

“Feel so good… so warm…” he whimpered into her ear, his tail swishing back and forth.

“T-Tomoe!” she whined, her back arching to meet his thrusts. “P-please! Faster!”

He complied, a hand reaching down to rub slow circles into her sensitive clit. It was obvious that he was experienced, making her cum on his cock over and over until she was fucked dumb, only able to whimper and whine underneath him.

Only then did Tomoe’s cum fill her up, his cock continuing to thrust into her as he calmed down. “God… my sweet girl…”

After his head finally cleared, he looked down with a panic, seeing the freshly forming bruises he left on her thighs and hickies on her neck.

He was quick to pull out and tend to her injuries, muttering apologies and giving each wound a kiss. It was all worth it in the end, if she got to be spoiled by Tomoe.

[marlynnofmany]

Little Legends

Eggskin leaned out of the medbay with both scaly hands full of disassembled electronics. “Are you free to run a quick errand?” they asked with the air of someone hoping the answer was yes.

“Sure,” I said, stopping in the hall. “Did something break?”

“I thought it was fixable, but no.” Eggskin rotated a couple pieces and fit them back together, revealing what looked like part of a medscanner. “Waste of time. At least this isn’t the good one for diagnosing, just the one for checking boxes. But we do need a replacement if you can get it.”

I mentally ran down the list of stores I’d spotted on this space station. “Yeah, I think I saw an electronics place that should have those. And we’re not going to leave for a while yet.”

“Excellent, thank you.” Eggskin looked relieved. “I’d go myself, but I have several other items in need of a tune-up.”

“No problem. I’ll let the captain know, then be right on it.” With a wave from me and further thanks from Eggskin, I headed off to find the captain.

Warm light spilled from the crew lounge as I passed. I mentally patted myself on the back for moving my sun lamp in there for everybody to enjoy. Humans may need their vitamin D, but Heatseekers craved warmth, and didn’t always want to ask for it. Paint was currently curled up on the biggest couch, along with Telly: a pile of mottled orange scales and mismatched fur. The cat had also started in just my quarters but moved on to spend time in the rest of the ship.

They looked awfully happy there in the light of the tiny, hovering, artificial sun. Maybe I’d bring a book in and take a seat on the other couch later. Right now, I had a bio-scanner to find. And while it would have been perfectly ironic for Captain Sunlight to be basking in the lounge as well, she was elsewhere.

I found her in the cargo bay, double-checking a new stack of boxes with Zhee. She held a clipboard in her scaly yellow hands while he moved things with his shiny purple pincher arms. They were a study in contrasts. When I told her where I was going, she was glad to hear it.

“Eggskin said there was something wrong with that scanner,” she agreed with a nod. “I wondered why they were using the good one earlier. Go ahead; I’ll make a note of the payment.”

“Righto.” I left the pair of them to rearrange the boxes, trusting that the captain would remember to note the payment later. Her memory was good, and she’d been in charge of the finances even before getting promoted. (The previous captain had only been good at delegating. When he got politely booted off the ship for incompetence, everyone agreed that Sunlight should take over. She hadn’t felt like giving someone else more work to do when she was already familiar with the ship’s record-keeping, so she just did both.) (She was good at both. It worked out well.)

I was good at other things, and one of them was recognizing when human-run stores were likely to have quality products. Luckily there was one such store in the nearest commerce sector.

I left the ship and strolled along a moving sidewalk at a delightfully fast pace, passing station-goers of a range of species, many of which were content with regular walking speed. One Mesmer rushed past in a blur of coppery bug legs, exoskeleton liberally decorated with metal inlays and their attitude suggesting they were late for a flight. The various Heatseekers, Frillians, and others gave them a wide berth.

The hum of a high-end jetpack made me duck, worrying I’d get accidentally kicked in the head. But no, it was higher than I’d thought. And the human using it only had one leg, which probably helped my odds anyway.

I wonder if that came from the same place I’m going, I thought. It seemed likely, since my destination was just coming into view past the big media store. Under the space station’s vaulted ceiling and silver-and-blue color scheme, the “Earthly Electronics Emporium” was an eyecatching collection of green circuitry. The big front windows had a whole section on jetpacks and hover-belts. I wondered if they were made by the same manufacturer as the ones Captain Sunlight had been looking into for a client.

Possibly. But we didn’t want to wipe out all the stock in this place, not when the client was content to wait while we gathered the rest of their order from the planet we were scheduled to visit next.

All in good time. Right now, bio-scanners.

I stepped off the moving sidewalk with a careful eye for momentum, and I didn’t stumble. Upholding human reputation, go me. With my head high, I entered the Earthly Electronics Emporium.

It was very green inside too. Not quite as bright as the outside, but somebody had really decided to lean in on the color scheme. I strolled between green shelves designed to look like circuit boards, on green tiles that glittered with LEDs, under ceiling lights that were mostly white, just with enough green paint around them that they could have been green too. At least the labels were easy to read.

There were a few other people in the store: mostly a group of humans chatting by the counter. It sounded like one was teaching the others a space shanty, which just made me smile.

Then I found what I was looking for, and I grinned in triumph. Got it. Let’s see here … “Good for everything from fleas to termites to truly exotic problems.” That sounds promising. I read the label thoroughly, and decided it was exactly what our courier ship needed for checking the crates we brought onboard. We hadn’t had to deal with an accidental infestation yet — well, not one that a cat or two couldn’t solve — and we didn’t want to.

I took it up to the counter.

When I got there, I was surprised to recognize the guy singing the shanty. When he caught sight of me, he broke off with a smile. “Hey, good to see you! Thanks so much for the advice; the animal calls and the caffeine went perfectly.”

“Awesome! Good to see you too!” I set down the scanner so I could return the handclasp-and-hug while he introduced me to his friends, including the guy behind the counter.

He told them, “This is the one I told you about, the human who’s done everything!”

“Well,” I said humbly, getting immediately talked over as Oscar told the others about how his large and intimidating alien crewmates had been disappointed that he didn’t live up to all the stories they’d heard about human antics, which had all, somewhat embarrassingly, been about me.

“But then she told me that imitating animal calls was impressive — and it was; I called in things for them to hunt, and they were amazed — and she’s the one who told me that the Mighty were lightweights on caffeine.” He grinned while they all chuckled. “You already know how that went!”

I was privately glad to see him so animated and social, since the only other time we’d met, he’d been pretty dejected about his lot in life. I asked for details on his adventures and he was happy to tell them, with the other humans chipping in to add that they touched base regularly now, since Oscar’s ship was making regular stops at this station, and most of them lived here.

“Are you staying long?” Oscar asked me. “You should really meet Aster. He’s been writing songs about human stuff, and he’s probably got some of your legends in there. He just started one about caffeine, thanks to me!” He beamed in pride.

“That’s great! I’d love to, but we’re leaving in a little bit,” I said. “Maybe next time we stop by.”

“I hope so! His songs are really good. I was just telling these guys about the new one. Have you heard it yet?” He launched into a melody. “Thiiiiis pirate ship was the scourge of the spaceways, stealing goods with their threats and their gunplay. The scariest ship that you ever did see … Until they met the skunk.”

I snorted and covered my mouth, eyes wide. I didn’t want to say it, but somehow he guessed.

“Don’t tell me,” Oscar declared, stopping the song. “Somehow that was you too.”

“Not directly,” I protested. “And maybe there are other skunks out there! Keep going.”

He sang the rest of the song, which told the story of some foolhardy pirates who didn’t believe the rumors of a merchant vessel with a hazardous Earth creature onboard. They wound up having to abandon their ship and let it fall into the nearest sun, ending their days as “the smelliest ne-er-do-wells that planet had ever seen.”

I applauded along with everyone else. “That is a great song! And I don’t know if that’s the skunk I knew or not. I did give one to a human on a merchant ship. But it had its stink gland removed, so maybe it’s a different one.”

An older woman laughed. “Or maybe Aster took some storytelling liberties with the song. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Oscar shook his head, still grinning. “Maybe!”

Then it turned into a storytelling session about skunk anecdotes, and while I could have happily enjoyed that conversation for quite a while, I did have a ship to get back to.

The guy behind the counter rang up the sale for me, charging it to the ship’s account successfully. “What a great name,” he said, reading off his screen. “Gotta love a ship called Slap the Stars.”

I told him, “It was named after the human tradition of high fives!” That derailed the conversation even further, and it was with real regret that I had to leave.

A couple of the others said they had places to go as well. Casual hugs for everyone, and suddenly it was like being back home for the holidays. After several tight embraces, I realized I’d been missing that and not realized.

I said goodbye to my fellow humans and promised to check in next time I was in town, then took the bio-scanner back to the ship. The moving sidewalk was just as quick in this direction.

Paint and Telly were still in the lounge when I passed. I gave Eggskin the scanner, checked in with the captain at the cockpit, then grabbed a book from my room.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked Paint.

“Sure; there’s plenty space!” She uncurled enough to wave at the broad expanse of couch.

Telly made a feline “Mrrp,” then put her head back down.

I found the sun lamp’s controls on the table, next to the box of accessories, and turned it up just a smidge. Then I lay down between Paint and the back of the couch, with my book above her head.

She made happy noises about the extra warmth, and Telly mrrp’d again.

From the door to the hall, something hissed, then Zhee’s voice complained, “Why is it so bright in here?”

Paint didn’t look up as she declared, “Basking is a time-honored form of enrichment.”

“I fail to see the appeal.”

“Hang on,” I said, sitting up long enough to grab an effects adapter from the box on the table. I’d checked before; these would stay in place even with just half of the cover. I clipped on the most colorful and glitterific galaxy adapter to the far side of the sun lamp, turning half of the lounge into a space disco that any self-respecting Mesmer would love.

Zhee was no exception. “Now that is lovely,” he said, clicking his way into the room. “Why didn’t you do that to start with?”

He made himself comfortable with a media screen while I settled back into place with my book and cuddle puddle.

Mur’s voice said from the hallway, “Why is it so bright in here?”

Zhee said, “Enrichment.”

Paint said, “You can join us if you like.”

I smiled. “I have a great new space shanty that I think you’ll enjoy.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[lemoncrushh]

Comfort Food

Summary: Jessica, a self-proclaimed foodie, helps her classmate Harry study for their Biology test.

Warnings: None. Pure fluff.

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: College/Uni Harry x OC written in first person. Originally posted in 2019. I realize I've been reposting a lot of fluff lately, but apparently that was the mood I was in back then. I feel like this story is very relatable though, no matter your age. We all want to be liked, but sometimes we let our own insecurities stop us from believing we deserve it.

Most people didn’t notice me. Guys especially. They didn’t see me. I don’t mean they didn’t look at me exactly, but when they did it was like they were looking through me. There might as well have been a prettier girl standing behind me that they were really looking at, and I suppose at times that may have been the case.

“Five eighty,” the tired woman at the register said with a sigh. I handed her a five and a one before waiting for the clinking sound of two dimes that dropped from the side of the register into a little metal dish.

I gripped my tray with both hands and made my way to the farthest end of the cafeteria, choosing the booth next to the window where someone hadn’t already taken it upon themselves to open the blinds. I hated sitting in streaming, hot sunshine while I ate my food.

I’d just taken a bite of the macaroni and cheese - the main reason why I frequented this cafeteria - when I heard someone speak.

“Hey, I know you.”

I jumped as I looked up at the boy who stood near the restrooms, thinking surely there was someone behind me he was greeting instead. His name was Harry. I had a class with him, I knew that much, but there was no way he even knew I existed. He was tall with a curly mop of hair on his head and big green eyes that if I wasn’t careful, I could get lost in. I quickly blinked and looked back down at my lunch.

“I have a class with you, right?” he continued, stepping closer to my table. Okay so obviously he was talking to me after all.

I shrugged. “I guess.”

“Yeah. What is it, Psych?”

“Bio,” I muttered.

“What was that?” It was then that he took it upon himself to slide into the booth across from me.

“Biology,” I answered, glaring at him.

“Oh, right! Biology. Professor Graham.”

I nodded, sucking in my lips.

“You sit in front of me, end of the row. What’s your name again?”

“Jessica.”

“Jessica,” he repeated with a lopsided grin. “That’s right.”

Harry rested his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand as he stared at me. He seemed to be studying me for a while, though I wasn’t sure if he was really looking at my face or thinking of something else. Either way, he was silent for so long, even as I tried to ignore him and eat my mac and cheese, I began to get nervous. Finally he spoke again.

“Is that good?” he inquired.

“What?”

“That,�� he pointed. “What you’re eating.”

I nodded emphatically. “Mhm. You wouldn’t think so, coming from a cafeteria, but it’s really good actually. It’s just like-”

“Hey, Harry!”

I turned my head to see a table full of people, one of the guys waving Harry over. I recognized him from class too. He sat next to Harry. I narrowed my eyes.

“You have your friends get your food for you?”

He made a face as he leaned forward to whisper, “Only 'cause I had to wee really bad.”

A giggle slipped from my throat before I could stop it. I quickly covered my mouth in embarrassment, but Harry only gave me another lopsided grin.

“I guess I should go,” he finally gestured toward the other table.

I nodded.

“Maybe they got me some of that,” he pointed at my mac and cheese as he rose from the booth. “Good to see you, Jessica. Have a nice lunch.”

“You too,” I managed a smile.

“Oh,” he stopped suddenly, his sneakers squeaking on the tile as he backed up. Then he turned to me, his big hands spread out across his chest. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

As if I didn’t know.

I could hear his voice before I saw him. I was already at my desk, concentrating on my notes from Friday when I heard Harry talking to Sam, the boy who sat next to him. I didn’t listen to what they were talking about, however, until I saw Harry’s legs stop on the step next to my desk and I heard my name at the same time a pen poked me in the shoulder. I removed my eyes from my notes and followed the long, denim clad legs up to a black t-shirt and finally green eyes.

“Sorry?” I asked.

“Just saying hi,” he smiled before bringing his pen to his mouth and biting on it. Then he took the final step and took his regular seat on the row behind me.

“Oh,” I whispered, though I figured he didn’t hear me. “Hi.”

“How was the rest of your weekend?”

For some reason I thought Harry had returned to his conversation with Sam, but then he said my name again.

“Huh?” I twisted in my seat.

“I asked how the rest of your weekend was,” he smirked. “After I saw you.”

“Oh,” I shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Good.” His dimples displayed in his cheeks which made me quickly look away.

“Oh hey,” I heard him add. “I did get to try that mac and cheese. And you were right. Surprisingly good.”

I felt myself smile just as Professor Graham took his place in the front of class and began his lecture.

I’d just slung my backpack over my arm when Harry said my name for the third time in an hour. I turned to look at him, his long arms slipping through the straps of his own backpack.

“Yes?” I asked timidly.

“I have a favor to ask,” he said, taking the top step down to my level. I noticed he was picking at his bottom lip before he tucked it between his teeth.

“Favor?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” he admitted. “I’m a fairly decent student. So I don’t usually ask for help. But this class...well, I’m not doing as well in it to be honest. And we got that test next Monday.”

My stomach lurched as I realized what he was implying.

“You need a tutor?” I asked.

Harry tilted his head and a curl fell over his eye.

“I was thinking more like a study partner?” He said it in a question, probably out of nerves. I thought it was cute.

But I knew the truth. Cute or not, Harry was wanting help to get a good grade. Guys like Harry didn’t ask girls like me to “study”. Study partner was a term used for pretty, bubbly girls who were probably making the same grade the boy was - an excuse to be with them without actually asking them on a date. Harry was not asking me for that. He wanted a tutor.

“Um…” I sucked in my lips, then nodded. “Yeah, sure, okay.”

Harry let out a deep breath and his shoulders dropped. “God, thanks Jessica. I really appreciate-”

“I’ll be at the Franklin Library tonight at seven,” I interrupted. “I can stay as late as you need.”

“That’s...that’s perfect actually. I’ll be there.”

I nodded sharply. “Okay.”

I turned to make my way down the steps, feeling Harry’s presence looming behind me.

“Thank you, Jessica,” he said again when we reached the bottom. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder for a split second before he turned for the door. For some strange reason I froze in my spot, watching him reach the exit, then look back one last time and smile.

With the sleeve of my sweater, I covered my mouth and made an inaudible squeal into my arm.

“No, see that’s where you’re getting confused,” I pointed to the diagram in the book.

“Tell me about it,” Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “Actually it’s not so much confusing, it’s just a lot of names and shit to memorize.”

I chuckled slightly and sat back. “Science is a lot of memorizing,” I agreed.

“If I have the book in front of me, I get it. But obviously I can’t do that for the test.”

“Then we’ll keep studying until we get it right,” I offered as Harry scribbled some notes.

Looking up from his paper, he peered at me behind the curl that had fallen over his eye again. It took all my gumption not to reach out and push it away.

“So, Jessica, can I ask you something?”

I instantly felt myself blush and looked down at my own notes.

“Um...if you’re asking if I was a straight A student in high school, the answer is yes. But no, I wasn’t valedictorian. That title went to Joseph Larkin.”

Harry snorted and I glared at him.

“I wasn’t going to ask that.”

“Oh.”

With a smirk that I would have deemed cocky if Harry didn’t seem like such a nice person, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Why the macaroni and cheese?”

“What?” I asked incredulously.

“From that cafeteria. You’d barely said two words to me until I asked you about it, then all of a sudden your face lit up and you were eager to tell me how good it was.”

With another pink blush to my cheeks, I pretended to doodle on my paper.

“It’s my ultimate comfort food,” I admitted.

“Why’s that?”

“It’s the closest to my grandma’s that I’ve found anywhere. The rest of the food there is…” I shrugged, “it’s okay I guess. But I go there just for the mac and cheese.”

“Ah, so it’s sort of sentimental for you.”

I tilted my head from side to side.

“That...and...I’m sort of a foodie,” I explained.

“Yeah? Do you cook?”

“A little. But I’m more of like...a connoisseur of particular things. Like I have favorite items that I like to order from almost any restaurant in town, even if it’s not particularly what they’re known for.”

“Oh!” grinned Harry, leaning forward on the table, his arms crossed in front of him. “I’d be interested in picking your brain, then.”

“Go for it.”

“So if I name a place, you can tell me what to eat?”

“Pretty much. Except that Mediterranean place on 5th Street. Nothing is good there, trust me.” I made a gagging noise which made Harry laugh.

“Alright then. How about…” he tapped his chin with his finger, “that steak place by the cinema.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you kidding me? The double fudge brownie a la mode.”

“That’s a dessert!” Harry quipped.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the best thing on the menu. Plus I’m not a big steak person.”

“Noted,” he raised a brow. “What about Michaelangelo’s?”

“Chicken Marsala. And the stuffed mushrooms are good. Unfortunately there’s something in their marinara sauce I’m allergic to.”

“That’s too bad. What about Chinese? Do you like Asian food?”

“I like most of it, yeah,” I replied. “Oh! The best is this amazing chicken soup from that place on 8th and Morton. My mom used to get it for me whenever I was sick. I don’t know what they put in it, but I almost always feel better the next day.”

Harry smiled at me, his dimples dipping in his cheeks. I felt myself blush and looked down at the table.

“We should go get some,” I heard him say.

“They’re probably closed now,” I commented before I realized he probably didn’t mean right then.

“Oh! Yeah!” Harry looked at his phone. It was after eleven. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Yeah I should get home.”

I shoved my book in my backpack and zipped it up.

“Can I walk you?” Harry asked.

“Oh, um...no, I have my car.”

“You don’t live on campus?”

I shook my head.

“Oh.” Harry looked disappointed. Or maybe I was just hoping he did. “Can I at least walk you to your car?”

I tried to hide my smile. “Sure.”

Stepping out into the cold night, I was glad I’d brought my winter coat instead of just my hoodie. Harry, however was only in a light jacket. I did notice how he walked a little closer to me, but I didn’t say anything until he did.

“It’s changing seasons now I reckon.”

“Yeah. Is it far to your building?”

“Nah, just over there,” he pointed across the street.

“Oh, that’s good.”

We made it to my car and I thanked him for walking with me before I opened the door and climbed inside.

“Jessie,” he said, his voice low, his arm on the door. “Can I call you Jessie?”

I bit my lip and nodded. Nobody else called me that, but I would gladly let him call me anything he wanted.

“Good,” he beamed. “You look like a Jessie to me. Anyway, do you think we could do this again? Studying, I mean, at the library.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“It’s just...the test isn’t for a week but I really wanna make sure I know this stuff…”

I reached a hand out and touched his bicep. “It’s no problem, Harry. I’m happy to help.”

“Great!” he said. “Is tomorrow too soon?”

“No, it’s fine with me. Same time?”

“Yeah. Thanks Jessie.”

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Harry.”

“There’s no way Danny’s has better donuts than Esther’s,” Harry argued. “I’m sorry Miss Foodie, but I will have to disagree with you there.”

I laughed at his nickname and shook my head. “Not all the donuts,” I pointed out. “Just the jelly-filled. If I want a jelly donut, I go to Danny’s, no contest.”

“But have you had the cinnamon cake donuts from Esther’s?”

“I have,” I nodded. “And I agree, they’re good. But jelly is the best.”

Harry rolled his eyes which made me laugh harder. I covered my face with my hands, remembering we were in a library.

Harry and I had been at it since seven, studying for the Biology exam, but somehow we’d made it to the subject of food once again, just like we had almost all week, except for a couple days when we couldn’t meet.

“Alright, Harry,” I said once I calmed down. “Test is tomorrow. What do you think?” It was Sunday evening and the library closed early.

“I think I want another week,” he groaned.

“Harry!”

“Okay, okay, I think I’ve got it. I’ll at least squeak by and get a C.”

“Gee, thanks,” I scoffed.

Harry smirked, giving my chair a tiny shove under the table. “I’m teasing you, darling.”

I blushed for the upteenth time that week and gave a gentle grin. “Oh.”

“You’ve been a tremendous help, Jessie,” he added. “I’m actually sad the week is ending. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.”

“Oh,” I repeated.

“You know,” he raised a brow as he packed up his books, “since we’ve been talking about food so much, I was thinking after this test is over we should go out.”

“What?” I stared at him in disbelief.

“Out to eat,” he offered. “Someplace you like. Not that Mediterranean restaurant or the one by the cinema, obviously.”

“Um...really? Um...I don’t know.” I stumbled.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Um...I’m...I’m kind of busy,” I said.

Harry pouted, then blinked. “Every day?”

“Well…” I hesitated, knowing fully well that was a lie. “Maybe not. Um...yeah, sure we could do that...sometime.”

“Cool,” Harry beamed, “wanna give me your number?”

I stared at him while he pulled out his phone. Touching a few things, he looked up at me.

“Go ahead,” he urged. But I was frozen.

Guys like Harry didn’t ask for phone numbers from girls like me.

“Jessie?” he asked.

Finally I cleared my throat and recited my number. With a genuine smile, Harry typed it into his phone.

“I just texted you,” he said. “So now you have mine.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

Harry walked me to my car like always and waved goodbye as I drove off. When I got home and dropped my bag on the chair beside my bed, I quickly dug out my phone. I didn’t use it all that often; no one ever called me. It was more for emergencies. But there it was. A text.

Hey Miss Foodie. Good luck on the test tomorrow. And thanks for all your help.

Text me when you get home please.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling as big as I wanted. But it was no use. The smile won out. He’d said please for gosh sakes.

I’m home.

Hey, thanks for letting me know. Just wanted to make sure you got home safely.

Ok.

Goodnight Jessie. See you in the morning.

Goodnight Harry

I could tell my texts were short and bland, even for someone who doesn’t text much. But I didn’t know what else to say.

The test went smoothly, at least I thought. I finished mine a little early and turned it in to Professor Graham. When I reached the door, I looked back and saw Harry with his lopsided grin. I waved and he gave me a thumbs up.

That afternoon I heard my phone buzz which startled me since that didn’t happen often. Harry sent me a short text saying he thought he might’ve aced the test. I told him I wouldn’t doubt it.

Professor Graham said the scores would be posted that night online. Just after I checked mine, and gave myself a mental high five for the perfect score, my phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered.

“A ninety, Jessie! I got a ninety!”

“Harry, that’s great!” I cheered.

“Well, it’s not acing it, but close. Definitely the best score I’ve ever gotten on a science test.”

“I’m happy for you!”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Jessie!”

I smiled, though he couldn’t see me.

“I really appreciate all your help,” he continued. “Although we probably spent at least half of the study time talking about food.”

I chuckled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you, too,” I said before I could stop the words.

“Good. So let’s talk now,” I could practically hear the lopsided grin in his voice. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just checked my score.”

“You aced it, didn’t you?”

I was silent.

“Of course you did,” he teased. “Smarty pants.”

“Well I was your tutor,” I quipped.

“Study partner,” he corrected.

I laughed louder.

“I like your laugh,” he said. “It’s cute.”

For the next hour, I was not myself. I was some other person, some other version of Jessica. I was Jessie, I supposed, Harry’s study partner. A girl with a cute laugh who got phone calls and texts from curly headed boys with lopsided grins. I didn’t recognize myself.

By the time I got off the phone, my face was flushed, and my smile seemed permanently glued to my face. Washing up before bed, I stared in the mirror, reminding myself who I really was.

Girls like me didn’t get phone calls and laugh for over an hour with boys like Harry. Most people didn’t notice me. Guys especially.

Wednesday morning when I walked into Bio, Harry was already there, which was a first. In fact, he was sitting in my seat, a white paper bag in front of him on the desk and a goofy grin on his face like he had a secret he was dying to tell.

“What are you doing?” I asked with a chuckle.

“Brought you something,” he replied, pointing to the bag. Then he slid into the empty seat next to mine that was usually occupied by Omar.

Taking my seat, I grabbed the bag and opened it, the sweet aroma hitting my nostrils immediately.

A jelly donut from Danny’s.

“What is this for?” I asked him incredulously.

“For helping me with the Bio test,” he said. Then a wide grin spread across his face as his cheeks blushed a rosy pink, much like mine had been doing since last Monday. “And maybe because I kinda like you.”

“What?” My eyes widened like saucers.

He looked down at the desk and back at me. “Alright. Truth? It’s not a maybe. And I don’t just kinda like you. I do like you. A lot, actually.”

“No you don’t,” I snapped before I even realized the words had left my lips. I regretted them instantly, especially after seeing the hurt look on Harry’s face.

“I don’t?”

“Well...I mean...you can’t.”

“Why can’t I?” He leaned closer to me. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he whispered. Then he seemed to consider something else. “Or a girlfriend?”

I shook my head. “No. I mean...guys like you don’t like girls like me.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, his expression looking like all the gears in his brain were turning around all of the words I’d said.

“What exactly are...guys like me...and girls like you? As far as I can tell, I’m a guy...no, not even that. I’m a person. And you’re a person. And I like you. What’s wrong with that?”

“Because it’s…” I stumbled. “I don’t know. You’re just...well you’re you.”

“I am me,” he agreed. “At least I hope I am.”

I tried not to laugh as I shook my head. “We’re different, Harry.”

“How so?” Harry crossed his arms over his chest. I glanced over towards the door and saw Michelle Young walk in. She was tall and pretty and when she walked into a room, people noticed.

“Have you looked at you?” I sighed.

Harry looked down at his lap and held out his arms, pretending to inspect himself. He was really making this hard for me.

“Her!” I gestured toward Michelle who was taking her seat. “That’s the kind of girl that gets attention. Guys like you go out with girls like her.”

Harry seemed to study Michelle longer than I would have liked, but when he turned back to me, he merely shrugged.

“She’s okay, I guess. But I haven’t gotten to know her and spend time with her. She may be a lovely person, or she may be a bore. I like you, Jessie.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Being around Harry definitely made me feel a certain way, but I didn’t think he would ever in my wildest dreams feel the same about me. I needed time to process it.

Professor Graham walked into the room then, and the class quieted. Omar shuffled in after the Professor so Harry walked around me to his seat behind me. For the next hour I was grateful he didn’t have to see my face. Because I had no idea what emotions they revealed.

When the lecture was over, Harry asked if we could talk. I told him I had to get to my next class, but he could text me later. And I told him thanks for the donut.

I didn’t get a text from Harry that afternoon, which was rather disappointing, but I tried not to dwell on it. I knew he was out of my league anyway and figured he finally decided for himself.

That night, however, after I ate dinner with my mom and did some homework, I realized I had a voicemail.

“Jessie…” he hesitated. “I’m not exactly sure what I did. But whatever it is, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you off, if I came on too strong. I just...I like you and um.... I don’t really understand this ‘girls like you’ thing you mentioned. But...I think you’re great. And I wish we could go out. But...if you don’t want to, it’s okay. Text me if you want...or call...or whatever. Bye.”

I sat on the edge of my bed with my phone in my hand for nearly twenty minutes. I was too chicken to call. I didn’t know what I would say. And apparently I didn’t know what to say in a text either because everything I’d type I’d just end up deleting before I could send it. Finally I just typed four words.

I like you too.

Harry didn’t reply to my text that night. Or at least not before I fell asleep. But I awoke to new messages Thursday morning.

Thank God!!!

When do you wanna go out??

Oh by the way, how was the donut?

I laughed as I got ready for school, sending him a quick reply that we could go out that weekend if he was available and that the jelly donut was the bomb.

I felt different all day. I seemed to have a hop in my step and a smile on my face at all times. For the first time in a long time, something - other than food - made me...happy.

But the hop and smile were short-lived. That night Harry called me and he sounded terrible.

“I think I’m getting a cold,” he moaned.

“Oh no.”

“I wanted to take you out tomorrow,” he added.

“It’s okay,” I assured him. “We can do it another time.”

“I’m sorry, Jessie.”

We talked for a little longer, but Harry’s coughing was getting worse so we said goodnight.

Harry didn’t make it to Biology the next morning either. I felt awful for him, but more than that, I missed him. Granted, he sat behind me, but just knowing his seat was empty made my heart ache.

After my next class, I had a plan. Taking a detour to 8th and Morton, I made a special purchase before heading to the dorms across from the Franklin Library. I didn’t know which one exactly was Harry’s, but as luck would have it, I saw Omar from Bio walking up to the building and I asked him.

His door was at the end of the hall. Taking a deep breath, I knocked three times. I heard some sort of sounds coming from inside before a latch was released and the door swung open.

“Jessie!” Harry exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He sniffled, then brought a tissue to his mouth which he coughed into. He looked like Rudolph with his red nose. I had the sudden urge to kiss it, but instead I made myself speak.

“I came to check on you,” I admitted.

“Oh. That’s sweet of you. I’m sorry I’m…” he paused to cough again, “...sick.”

I frowned at his obvious look of disappointment as though he really was more upset that he was sick under the circumstances. I found it endearing.

“Harry, get back inside,” I said, pushing him into his room and shutting the door behind me.

“You brought me something?” he asked, eyeing the bag in my hand.

I smiled, holding it up. “Soup. Now sit.”

Mustering up a smile of his own, he followed my orders and sat at the desk behind him. I opened the bag and pulled out the large container of soup and a spoon.

“Eat up, buttercup,” I sang. Then I sat on the nearby bed as I watched Harry dig in. After the first spoonful, he made a sound and looked at me with wide eyes.

“‘s so good!”

“Told ya! It’s my favorite comfort food. You’ll probably be feeling better by tomorrow.”

“I thought the mac and cheese was your favorite comfort food.”

I rolled my eyes. Okay so he paid attention. “Fine, second favorite.”

Despite his illness, Harry smirked before focusing again on the soup. I smiled and started to lie back on the bed.

“Is this your bed?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Okay, good. Didn’t wanna lie on someone else’s,” I joked.

“But you might not wanna lie on mine since I’ve been sick.”

He had a point. I sighed. “I don’t care.”

Harry ate a little more than half the container before he had another coughing fit. He grabbed a nearby water bottle that he’d apparently been drinking from and guzzled it down.

“‘m Sorry, Jessie,” he whined. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Oh, of course,” I agreed, sitting up. I was about to stand when he stopped me.

“Lie with me,” he said. “Just for a little bit.”

I blinked before he practically pulled me down with him, not having the chance to argue. Harry wrapped his arms around me and I instantly felt warm. I laid my head on his chest and felt his breaths, a nice steady rhythm that soothed me.

“This is so nice,” he murmured. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

I hummed against his chest and he pulled me tighter.

“You know, the soup was great. But if I do end up better by tomorrow, I reckon it’ll be because of you.”

I lifted my head to look at his face. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were flushed, but more than anything I saw...something else. Sincerity.

“Me?” I whispered.

Harry pushed a strand of hair away from my cheek.

“I really like you, Jessie. I think you’re kind and thoughtful, smart and funny, cute and sweet.”

I smiled at him as he traced the back of his hand across my cheek.

“I think you might be my comfort food,” he grinned.

I couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“Smooth, Harry,” I poked.

“Hey, you liked it, admit it.”

It was cheesier than the mac and cheese I so loved. But it was also sweeter than a jelly donut. I could make my own silly analogies. But regardless, it was great to hear.

“I do admit it,” I nodded. “And I like you, too. A lot.”

Tilting his head, Harry leaned in, his lips grazing mine before taking my face in his hands and kissing me tenderly.

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[thisisyesterdaystudy]

Monday 7th (first day back at it)

actually had the most productive day of my life possibly - i'm sure it will all fall apart tmrw i'm staying up way to late for my 5/6 hours sleep or whatever it was

Things I did

woke up in the AM (pretty good for me)

got ahead in biology, i got both today and tomorrow's topics done so i have more time to revise now which is good

got my sociology work done - that was the least exciting bit of my day, sort of did bare minimum

art history: studying jmw turner rn who i am not a bit fan of and in fact so much the contrary that i've been putting it off for 6 weeks but i put on a random classical music studying playlist and somehow that solved all my problems, i studied art hist the most today and i had a great time, it wasn't really the most efficient use of my time cos i was focusing all on turner biography type stuff when really the thing i should be focusing on is his paintings but i'm just glad to be motivated again

tour of the cell: this was good as extra consolidation for bio, didn't take me long which was good, i'd like to finish it this week but idk if that's possible

byzantine icons: had a very short section today but loved it looking forward to the rest - its very tenuous including this in my art history study time because its not really related to what i'm studying ever i'm just interested but idm

swedish: still enjoying learning swedish a lot - i think i just love being a beginner and i love starting things off, its probably the lack of pressure, like when i've been doing something for a long time there's so much attached to it emotionally - anyway, learned en tårta (a cake), got freaked out by en and ett nouns its cool

went climbing

wrote my daily essay on turner today no surprises there

did some knitting and some sketchbooking, the only things i have left to do today are read and plan tmrw which hopefully i'll do before i'll fall asleep but you'll never know

i wish i had a format for these things

Study Time

biology - 1h50m (inc. 30m extra course)

sociology - 50m

art hist - 4h (inc. 10m extra course + 2h essay research + writing)

swedish - 2h (haven't decided yet whether to include this in study time any input welcome idk what counts to me)

total compulsory - 6h

total extra - 2h40m

total - 8h40m

[chernabogs]

if you're still taking requests, can you maybe do "You're lucky you're cute" with either Malleus or Sebek? (and reader) You can choose one of them and have fun!!

Thank youuuu this is just a glorified excuse for me to info dump about etiquette with Fae interactions LMAO (also I need to work more on my Sebek down the line... my boy...I will write him soon)

CAVEATS

Inc: Malleus, GN!Reader (referred to as Prefect once) Warnings: None! Except the ominous undercurrent of danger through words at the amusement of a Fae WC: 2.5k! Excerpt: Truthfully, many of the things he’s saying are things humans should know—but the crevice between the sharing of information from Fae to humans means many of the modern humans don’t.  He’s granting you a one up by doing this—at his own entertainment. 

People find it hard to speak of things with him sometimes. Exulansis, Malleus learns it’s called. A resignation to stop talking about an experience because the other cannot relate. When the other House wardens speak of motor vehicles, of vacations, of the latest tech and similar topics he finds his mind turning in circles as he puzzles over what that experience is like. What is a vacation to the Tropical Isles like? What benefits does a magic-powered vehicle have over a gas-consuming one? 

Perhaps he has a face when they speak of this. A furrow in his brow, a darkening of his gaze. He doesn’t mean it in hostility—it’s all coming from a purely clinical stance. He’s tried so many times just to get his older flip phone model to work that he’s entirely given up comprehending what this ‘widget’ is, or the benefits of ‘bio-metrics’, which sounds like some poison you’d feed someone in his opinion. 

Maybe this is why he finds somewhat of a solace in your company at times like this. Even though you seem to know all about most of the things the others speak of, you’re still clueless about the magic aspects, and that gives him something of a purpose—explaining those to you. 

“What if you mix it?” 

You’re lying back on the stones of a cottage that once stood proudly in the forest surrounding Night Raven College. It’s since been reduced to nothing more but a few bits of the foundation and a lot of rotting wood. He raises an incredulous eyebrow at your words. 

“No, I would not recommend combining any fire magic with any form of wind magic. Most think it would just blow the fire out, but you are more apt to end up with an inferno than a resolution. Fire magic is measurably different from your flint and stick type, after all.” His gaze travels over your form as your expression shifts to one of intense thought. It reminds him of the one he wears when speaking with Shroud about his broke phone (again)—and it feels wonderful to be on the receiving end. 

“Grim and Ace did that once, you know. Combined Grims fire with wind magic Ace summoned. I probably should have thought of that before asking you.” You sit up with a groan and rub your face. “What about water magic, then?” 

“It depends on if the mage has used a sub-spell when summoning their fire spell. If a sub-spell was used with the intent of permitting the flames to burn more intensely, such as an oil or metal, then the water would simply feed the flames more. Hence why it’s quite important to pay attention to what your opponent’s actions are.” You remind him a little of Sebek and Silver when they were younger and just trying to master their own magic. You have the same curious disposition—and frustration about things just not being concise. 

You give him another look as you pick up the book you had tossed aside earlier. When he had invited you for a walk with him, he hadn’t anticipated it becoming a late-night study session. It was a refreshing experience, though—an opportunity for a ‘school-life’ moment that Lilia always pushed him to have. Midnight cramming. 

“When fighting someone, aren’t there a whole ton of other things to worry about beyond whether a sub-spell was used or not?” You sigh as you begin flipping through the pages. He notes that your writing gets rather chaotic at some points, and figures these are the things you’re picking his brain over. 

“Not every incidence of magic is for combat purposes. Why, in Briar Valley, magic is used for the most basic of tasks—such as cooking. That ties in with the fire information I just disclosed, no?” His lips quirk into the faintest of smiles. “It would be in poor taste if the cooks at the Palace were to mix magic with the wrong sub-spell by mistake.” 

“Have you ever barbecued something before? It’s practically combat.” 

Barbecue. Malleus remembers the first time he tried grilled meat, when he was younger, and Lilia had enough with the raw diet the prince had been kept on for the majority. The food had tasted like charred wood and from that point on Malleus had deliberately minimized his requests for it. “I am… not experienced at the barbecue, no.” 

“The barbecue.” You repeat, glancing at him with a smirk. “So, Briar Valley doesn’t have any fun cookouts? No throwing something on the BBQ and having a night of it?” 

“This is getting off topic.” He stands from where he was sitting on the foundation next to you and waves a hand. “Perhaps you should return to your dorm and study there. We can reconvene another time.”

Your expression shifts to surprise and you’re quick to protest his words. “No, no, I’d rather we stay. Besides, I’m not going to do anything if I go back, and you’re probably not going to do anything if you go back, so…”

“So?” He repeats with a raised eyebrow as a bright grin appears on your face. 

“Is it not better to do something together then nothing on our own?” 

Ah, you’re trying to work a strange sort of logic to your argument here. His arms cross over his chest as he looks from where you sit and out to the dark woods that surround you. It’s a quiet night, with a few fireflies flashing amongst the trees that loom like dark figures just beyond. Their towering presence ignites a sense of occhiolism that has him moving just a few steps closer to you.  

“Do you desire my company so much? All I’ve done is give you answers to your homework woes.” He gives a pointed look to the pen and book you have in hand as a flash of embarrassment crosses your face. You shift uncomfortably and close the book. 

“Well, I do want to say thank you for all that you’ve done so far…” You mumble. Your comment strikes a thought in his mind as he observes you a bit closer. “I guess I don’t really need to keep bugging you with questions.” 

“Did I ever imply it was a bother?” He moves through the grass to sit back down next to you. The lack of sound that his motions make would be unsettling to most, but your blindness to the unusual and the strange makes you seem entirely unaffected. “Do not read things that aren’t there.” 

“I… sorry?” He can see you struggling a little to navigate the right thing to say, and this brings a sense of amusement to him. Your confusion about this discussion may be mean on his part, but it’s only temporary. 

Malleus may not know much in terms of technology, or the best place for a vacation, or whether a gas-car is a better deal—but he does know magic. And he is feeling rather playful this evening as he watches your panicked gaze dart around his features. 

“Do your studies incorporate learning of magical beings, by chance?” He begins to lay the foundations for his plan as your shoulders relax at his question. You hum and flip around the book. 

“I mean, vaguely? There’s a bit about dwarves, and elves, and a very small paragraph on the Fae… but not much else.”

He clicks his tongue as his pale fingers reach out to touch the edges of the pages. “Oh, that won’t do. You can be forgiven for not understanding magical spells should you ever visit Briar Valley, but to not understand the Fae? You might find yourself in conflict.”

Then he makes his expression light up. “I would feel terrible should that happen, knowing I could prevent it, so I ask now—would you like to know more about my species?” 

It’s like dangling a forbidden fruit in front of a starving soul. He rarely shares anything about himself or his thoughts, even though you’ve both been attending these walks together for a few weeks now. You close the book again and nod, and that’s all he needs you to do. “Sure, thank you!” 

Your politeness is quaint—but he knows such an approach may not last once he begins talking. He smiles a little more, and it’s an expression to hide how eager he feels about this.

“To begin, you may find that while all of us have a degree of pride, some of us are more prideful than others. You are very generous with your thankfulness and apologetic responses, and although I appreciate the words and the acts as I know they come from a place of good intent… this is not the case for all my kind.” He hums thoughtfully. “In fact, some may think your thanks imply that they are subservient or—even worse—that you are now in debt to them.” 

He pauses and lets his words linger as they run through your mind. Your eyes widen slightly. “Subservient? I don’t want anyone thinking that whenever I just say thanks.” 

“I know that, and so does Lilia, but that’s because we’ve interacted with humans a great deal. Some Fae have very little interaction, and with that, hold very old beliefs. One should simply be… cautious. Express gratitude for what they have done, but do not say thanks.” 

Malleus feels his amusement grow as your expression becomes solemn at his words. He takes it as a sign to continue as he taps his nails against his thigh. 

Truthfully, many of the things he’s saying are things humans should know—but the crevice between the sharing of information from Fae to humans means many of the modern humans don’t. 

He’s granting you a one up by doing this—at his own entertainment. 

“We also value honesty immensely. Have I ever lied to you?” He asks, and when you shake your head with confidence, he chuckles. “No, and so I would hope that sentiment would be reciprocated. Lying or deliberately keeping information from me is something I don’t appreciate, but I will not curse you over it like some may.” 

“This makes me feel like I’m in politics instead of a conversation,” you mumble, resting your chin in your palm. He hums and nods. 

“In a sense, it is like politics. Be cautious of what you say, and if you don’t know what to say, say nothing at all. The same applies to accepting gifts—both obvious and not. Accept what you trust, but if you have a bad feeling, decline and simply do so in a way that is not apologetic.” 

“How do I know if something is being given as a gift?” There’s concern in your tone as you ask this. It makes Malleus smile wider—a sharp flash of white fangs in the dark—and he shrugs. 

“You don’t always. For example, you were quick to accept my offer of this information, even though this information itself is a gift. But we have a rapport; I trust you, as you trust me.” He stops tapping his thigh. “It’s the same for how willing you and the others have been at granting me and Lilia your names. There’s a great deal of magic tied into a person's name.”

Malleus notes that flash of unease in your gaze again as you grip your book a bit tighter. Perhaps this is unsettling to you. Perhaps the reminder of just how different the two of you are is throwing you into a perilous loop; you became comfortable enough with him that you began to see him as equal, and the reminder that you aren’t is jarring. 

 He doesn’t want to scare you too terribly, though. This isn’t what these lures of information were meant to do. It was meant to amuse him with your expressions and awe at these simple rules of etiquette, but also to guarantee your safety if—well, when—he asks you delicately to visit Briar Valley soon. Plus, you are the one consistent person outside of his close family who has bothered to hold extended conversations with him. 

“What can you do with my name?” You ask slowly. It’s a valid question. What can he do with your name?

“Oh, one can do many things with a name. Take it as their own, bend it out of shape, lock it in a box or toss it into the sea. A Fae can wipe it from your mind and put it in their pocket should they be so inclined. They can make you do whatever it is they please.” Not that many would anymore. Perhaps in the days when humans and Fae were at war the notoriety of name-theft was known throughout the Valley, but in these recent days of languid peace, name-theft is more apt to find the Fae imprisoned than anything else. 

“And will you?” You ask, catching him off guard for a moment. When he looks at you again, you look nervous as you stare back. “Take my name, or anyone else's?” 

Malleus blinks slowly as he processes your words. Ah… maybe this has gone too far now. He softens his expression and watches as this mirrors on your own. Then he warms his smile to grant some reassurance as he laughs softly. “Oh, no, no. You have my name as well—we are equal, in a sense. I don’t have power over you or anyone else in this school beyond what any other mage may hold.” 

You exhale slowly and relax your shoulders. His words have put you at ease and this pleases him before your expression takes a sharp turn into a scowl.

“Thanks for instilling all this paranoia in me. You know, when I finally visit you in Briar Valley, I’m going to be triple thinking everything that comes out of my mouth now.” 

“When?” He jumps on that word really quick as his expression shifts to one of smug delight. He didn’t even need to push the topic—you just dove headfirst into it yourself. He hears you clear your throat loudly as you yank open your book again. 

“Don’t. I’m going to write this all down in the margins before I forget,” you grumble as he chuckles softly again. 

“Ah, you’re lucky you’re cute, Prefect.” He hums as he returns his attention to the treeline beyond. The fireflies continue to lazily flash in the night, and the silence of the forest brings a sense of peace. There’s solace in your company—and he looks forward to experiencing it more in the future. 

So long as you don’t agitate another Fae. He can’t help you with everything. 

[loveywon]

♡𓂃 BREAK MY HEART AGAIN !

part 2 here!

pairing: jungwon x (gn) reader x niki

wc: 3.3k+

synopsis: you cant help but let jungwon break your heart. again. (inspired by let you break my heart again by laufey!)

warnings: ANGST, high school au, cursing i think i cant remember, sullyoon (nmixx) mentioned, not proofread, ANGST AGAIN BIG WARNING SRSLY, niki loves reader so bad, jungwon is kinda mean but not intentionally, reader needs to open their eyes srsly

a/n: everyone say thank u laufey for putting out one of the best songs ever!!! also this fic did NOT turn out the way i planned it.. niki wasnt even supposed to be in here😭 and the ending was also not planned PLS

“I’m sorry, Y/n, I can’t date you right now…” Jungwon says awkwardly, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck as he avoids eye contact with you. You should have expected this, really. The evidence was all right in front of you, but you chose to ignore it. 

“That’s fine! I know that you can’t…I just wanted to let you know,” you smiled up at him, despite his avoidant eyes. Jungwon nods at you, his kind and soft eyes meeting yours. He knows you, and he knows that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes like they normally do whenever he would crack a lame joke or when he would do something affectionate towards you. 

His lips curve into a slight smile, although the corner of his eyes don’t crinkle up. “Maybe in a few years, yeah? We’ll still be friends, Y/n. I could never leave you.” He promises, he promised. So why, three years later, you’re standing in the hallway while you see Jungwon mess with some girl’s hair that’s not your own? 

Niki jogs up to you, not reading the full situation since he arrived at school late (again). “Y/n! Did you see the fight out..side…” his eyes follow where your own are staring at, and he frowns. He doesn’t say anything, but instead he decides to direct your attention to something else. “Y/n! We’re gonna be late to history, c’mon!” He ushers, though he could care less about being late to history.

You met Niki a year after Jungwon rejected you, and you immediately introduced him to your friend group after. You never told him about your feelings for Jungwon, although you didn’t need to. Niki knew – after all, it was quite obvious with the way you swooned and giggled whenever Jungwon would do literally anything. 

Niki tugs on your arm like a little kid until you get annoyed, finally tearing your gaze away from Jungwon and the other girl talking. He smiles at you, but you don’t return it. You keep your head down, walking side by side with your friend as you look over your shoulder, still wishing that it was you with Jungwon instead of her. 

You weren’t the one three years ago, and you’re not the one now. 

Your hands ball into a fist after you were too far down the hall to see Jungwon clearly, and Niki is still rambling about something mindlessly while you’re buried in your own thoughts. You almost bump into another student and Niki has to drag your arm closer to him so you don’t crash into someone. 

“Y/n,” he whines out in a drag, wanting you to pay attention to him. You reply with a hum, not in the mood to say much after seeing Jungwon with someone else that isn’t you. 

The frown finds its way back onto his features, swinging your arm with his hand that’s gripped onto your forearm. “Wanna come over tonight? My mom let me buy this new game after saving up and I wanna show you!” He replaces the frown with a smile when you finally look at him. You give him a slight grin which makes him beam, but your following words cause his eyes to drop.

“I can’t, me and Jungwon are studying for bio tonight at my place. Maybe tomorrow? And we can go to that cafe you wanted to bring me last week too,” you offer with a tilt of your head.

It’s always like this. It’s always Jungwon first to you. At this point, Niki’s used to it and he almost expects you to hang out with him the next day. He supposes that next time, he’ll just have to ask you earlier before Jungwon does. 

Niki nods, giving a smaller smile this time before the both of you walk into your class. 

“Jungwon, hey!” You wave excitedly down the hall where Jungwon awaits by his locker for you. He leans off his locker, his head looking up from his phone as he spots you. He waves back at you, a smile gracing his features. Niki is following close behind you, but he’s too busy on his phone and doesn’t give Jungwon a form of greeting before he’s actually face to face with him.

“Okay, I’m gonna go, see you tomorrow, Y/n,” Niki says goodbye to you and gives Jungwon a nod before leaving.

“Ready to spend five hours reading a textbook?” You try to joke, nudging Jungwon lightly with your elbow, but instead of giving a lighthearted laugh and returning your joke, he’s glancing at his phone and smiles down at the screen.

You look away, your bottom lip in between your teeth. This was so awkward. After Jungwon rejected you, he actually never did get with anyone else, but he has been talking to a few people here and there throughout your high school career, so you were used to this routine. But he’s never smiled at a text before. 

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” Jungwon asked after putting his phone in his back pocket. You know he doesn’t do this on purpose – there is no mean bone in Jungwon for him to ever do something like this to purposely and intentionally hurt you. It’s one of the many reasons why you love him, you suppose. 

“Oh, nothing,” you mumble as you look away, the two of you walking down the sidewalk. You don’t notice this, but you always have to match his pace to walk side by side as his legs naturally walk fast because of his busy schedule, being in multiple sports and clubs. “Are you prepared for this week’s test?”

“What? We have a test this week?!” Jungwon panics, almost halting in his steps to look at you as you struggle to catch up with him. “Yeah! It’s on Friday…it’s literally in three days. You didn’t know?” You ask. This is the first. Normally Jungwon is the one to remind you of a test in your one shared class together.

“Shit,” he curses, running a hand through his hair. You two continue walking to your house and you laugh a little to ease up his sudden stressed mood. “It’s okay! That’s why we’re studying today, right? I’ll help you,” you smile, giving him a reassuring thumbs up, “but this is the first time you don’t know of a test, are you feeling okay?” You chuckle in a joking manner, turning the lock on the door and letting him enter first inside your home.

“Yeah…guess I got distracted,” he muttered. He makes his way straight to your room, knowing where it is as he’s been over more than enough times. You follow behind him, closing your door as you drop your backpack onto the floor.

“Distracted? From what?” You expect his answer to be something like ‘Oh, just sports’, so his answer knocks the wind out of you.

“I’m planning to ask out Sullyoon…” he trails off, not wanting to meet your eyes. He didn’t want to hide anything from you, you were his best friend! But when he takes a slight peek at you, and notices that your jaw is agape and your eyes no longer twinkling like they normally do whenever you look at him, why does he feel guilty? Was that even the right word to describe the ache in his heart when he sees your smile falter, eyes gazing down at your hands? Look at me, please, he thinks to himself, but he’s not sure if he really wants to see your sad eyes look at him like he was the worst thing that has ever happened to you.

You think, in a way, he is. But you know yourself well enough to know that you’d let Jungwon in your heart no matter how many times he breaks it.

He wants to change the subject, maybe back to biology because he actually wants to get a good score, but his first priority will always be you, and he doesn’t want to belittle your feelings just because of a silly little test grade that will barely affect his overall percentage, anyway. 

“Is…is that okay?” He asks after some silence, unsure on how to approach this. You blink, eyes still staring at the ground, but you quickly look at him after he speaks.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You say, which catches him off-guard. “Jungwon…you can date whoever you want. Why are you asking me as if you’re asking permission or something,” you laugh it off, but you feel like you’re really more fighting your inner demons rather than seeing it as no big deal.

You’re too nice, Jungwon thinks. He doesn’t deserve you, he really doesn’t. A smile appears on his face, dimples and all showing on his cheeks. “Really?” He says excitedly, and it hurts you even more to see that he’s so excited to ask out Sullyoon. “So, you’ll help me ask her out? Cause I don’t really know what to do, honestly.” He asks, and you feel like you’ve been stabbed in the heart a million times.

You can’t say no. Not to Jungwon. And you hate him for that. 

“Sure.” You smile. 

The following day, you keep your promise to Niki and go to the café he wanted to show you and to see his new game. Although your mood is obviously deflated after last night’s study session with Jungwon, Niki decides to make it his life mission to make you smile and laugh. 

“Oh my gosh, this strawberry croissant looks so good,” you gasp, bending down slightly as you look through the clear glass that showcases many different pastries. 

“I know! When I came here a few weeks ago, I knew you would like it. We can get it and share, if you want!” Niki offers, giving a smile as you point and admire every pastry. 

“Really??” You look up at him, toothy smile and all, and he nods in response. He pays, because he would buy the moon for you if it meant seeing you smile. He thinks Jungwon wouldn’t do the same for you. 

You two enjoy the pastry, giggling about whatever happened at school that day or complaining about the overwhelming amount of homework your teachers assigned before walking to his home to check out his game. 

Niki thinks he successfully distracted you from whatever was bugging you since last night (he already has a hunch that it’s because of Jungwon), but you’re walking slower than you usually do and your head is slightly lowered. It’s probably not obvious to others that you’re in a sour mood, but it’s definitely obvious to Niki. 

“Y/n,” he starts, but you cut him off before he says anything else. 

“Jungwon wants to ask Sullyoon out,” you blurt, looking up at him with your bottom lip jutted out like you’re about to cry, and you feel like you are. Niki thinks he’s never felt his emotions affected by someone before. 

“Oh,” is all he says, because what exactly can he say? He’s mad, yes. He’s mad at Jungwon, because he can’t seem to understand why Jungwon would ever choose anyone over you. 

“And I’m helping him by asking her,” you breathe out, like it's the hardest thing you’ve ever said in your entire life. Scratch that — confessing to Jungwon was the hardest thing. 

“Oh.” Niki’s not good at comforting, but he wants to, so bad, for you, he would learn every language in the world. 

“He’s never…Jungwon’s never liked someone enough to ask them out. But I—“ your voice breaks and Niki swears a part of him breaks as well. You guys finally reach his house, and he gestures for you to enter first with a tilt of his head. You enter, walking straight to his room because you know his house like the back of his hand. 

You then realize; Jungwon’s always over at yours, but you’ve been in his house once and it was only to drop off homework from when he was feeling sick and you didn’t even go in. You have no idea what his house looks like, but you know every knick knack about Niki’s. 

As you two enter his room, he sits on the edge of his bed and pats the spot next to him. He may not be good at words, but he can offer a comforting shoulder. You give a slight, but weak, smile in appreciation and you sit next to him and instantly lean your head on his shoulder like it’s nature. 

This isn’t the first time, and Niki knows this won’t be the last time that you use him as comfort whenever Jungwon talks to someone new. He’s okay with that. He’ll wait for you like you wait for Jungwon. 

“Niki,” you say his name for the first time the entire day. You’re not crying, you already wasted enough tears on Jungwon. 

“Hm?” Niki hums, his fingers playing with your own, and it’s a little too intimate for Niki’s usual liking, but he’s willing to step out of his boundaries for you. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, and even though you don’t clarify what you’re thanking him for, Niki knows. He knows that you’re thanking him for being with you for two years, pining after Jungwon and using Niki as a shoulder to cry on. 

His eyes droop down, and he’s upset that he met you. He’s upset he met you in this universe, where you’re hung up on your crush on Jungwon, and not another where you two can live happily ever after, without Jungwon plaguing your mind. 

Niki vividly remembers the time you two met. It was in ceramics class, and you were there because you genuinely liked pottery and he was there because he just had to fulfill his visual arts credit. He struggled on the wheel, the clay always never staying up because he made it too thin every time. You noticed him struggling after observing for a week straight, and decided to finally lend a helping hand. 

After that, he followed you around school and walked with you to your classes (with Jungwon, of course, he’s always with you), and now you’re just used to his presence and he’s used to yours. What started off as a mere friendship, he’s now attached to you, despite knowing that you will never see him the same way you see Jungwon. 

A week later after helping Jungwon with a plan to ask Sullyoon out, it was unfolding right in front of you. With Jungwon’s back facing you, and seeing Sullyoon’s face beam with light when Jungwon asked her if she wanted to be his girlfriend, you visibly cringe. 

You just didn’t understand. What did she have that you didn’t, and why did Jungwon want her, and not you, who has been by his side ever since fifth grade? It’s been three years since you’ve confessed – you thought you’d get over it by now, but seeing them hug affectionately in front of you, made your eyes drop to the ground, hands balled up into a fist as you fight against any bitter emotions bubbling in your chest. 

You don’t notice that Niki is watching from afar. He had just gotten out of detention, and didn’t expect to see you in the school halls an hour after school had ended. He almost got excited, perhaps you were waiting for him to get out of detention so you could go to the cafe together again, or maybe you wanted to see his video game that you didn’t see last week!

But then, he sees Jungwon and Sullyoon hugging and your still figure watching them. He frowns deeply. Why do you still stick around? He supposes he should know the answer. He sticks around for you, so there’s no difference between you and him, really. 

You turn on your heel and leave the school, not saying goodbye to Jungwon or Sullyoon. You think if you see Jungwon turning to you with a bright smile that you know is not from you, you’ll start crying. 

Niki follows behind silently, not wanting Jungwon to notice him as he follows you out of the school. He catches up to you, despite your rushed pace because you want to get far away from where the love of your life and his now girlfriend is. 

“Y/n! Hey…” He says, jogging up to you and matching your pace when he’s side by side with you. 

You looked up at him, shocked. You forgot he had detention, so he must’ve gotten out right when Jungwon had asked Sullyoon out. You turn away, hair falling forward to cover your eyes. “Hi.”

He frowns again. “You want my shoulder?” He offers.

You smile slightly, it’s such a weak smile, and Niki knows that, but he appreciates your efforts. “If that’s okay with you.” 

You find yourself in your living room with Niki, head buried into his shoulder as you cry, because you just can’t wrap your head around the fact that Jungwon said he’d date you in a few years. He promised! He never broke promises. He promised in fifth grade when you two met that he’d never leave your side and that you’d always be first to him. You suppose he broke two promises now. 

Niki’s softly playing with your hair, not looking at you. He can’t look at you in this state, because when you cry, he wants to cry too. He wishes you could see that he’s been here, and maybe not as long as Jungwon, but he thinks that he knows you more than Jungwon does. 

You know that you’ll let Jungwon break your heart again. 

You think that one day, you’ll find someone who will like you like you like Jungwon.

Niki thinks that one day, you’ll realize that he sees you more than a friend and a shoulder to cry on.

Someday, one day, you’ll let Jungwon stop breaking your heart, but Niki knows that he’ll follow closely behind you, picking up every small piece and treasure it like his life depends on it. 

You end up falling asleep on Niki’s shoulder after crying on it for what feels like hours. Niki knows his shirt is slightly damp, but he doesn’t mind. You’re softly snoring, your body leaned against him. He knows you must’ve been exhausted. He knows you helped Jungwon the best you could, despite the fact that you’re hopelessly in love with him, and he hates that you did that, but he also loves you for it.

Jungwon is excitedly opening your front door, because he knows he’s welcomed into your home any time he pleases, but as he’s going towards your room, he finds Niki on your couch. He’s confused, but he doesn’t question until he spots pieces of your hair from over the couch. 

Niki doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to wake you, but he looks at Jungwon with a pointed expression, and Jungwon knows immediately what Niki was trying to express. He frowns, not at Niki, but at himself. He didn’t realize that he affected you this much, he had a feeling that you didn’t move on from him but he also didn’t think that you were still this caught up on him.

He feels terrible, he feels like absolute shit, because he also realizes that he broke two of his promises. Then, something else swirls in his gut as you shift in your sleep, head burying into Niki’s neck. He doesn’t understand this feeling, and a part of him doesn’t want to. 

He’s with Sullyoon now, isn’t he? So why, is he standing in the middle of your home, with jealousy stirring in his chest? 

part 2 is here!

taglist!: @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs

[thatonebirdwrites]

This video discusses the playbook these techbros are using. The agenda discussed is exactly what we are seeing playing out in real time right now in the USA. They want corporate-owned "network states" to hoard more wealth and make it impossible for others to gain their wealth; as well as having a trapped workforce to extract more wealth.

We need to understand their plan, so we can work to sabotage and stop it.

Their plans Will Kill People and already have.

Plane crashes lately were impacted by not enough air traffic controllers. The timing of Trump's executive orders and actions to cripple FAA is alarming. It's possible Trump/Musk's actions contributed to their deaths; however, their crippling of FAA likely will cause more accidents in the future.

There is also people who will die or are dying due to the freeze on federal funds for nonprofits, USAID, state programs, healthcare institutions, and other crucial agencies and social programs that focus on the most vulnerable.

More will die from the active purge of studies and health data on CDC.gov. A lot of health workers use that data and study results to improve health outcomes for patients. Also, the purging of data for infectious diseases will result in an even steeper rise in diseases, less vaccine availability or research from which more people will die.

Due to the purge of documents and sites pertaining to LGBTQIA people, Black Indigenous and People of Color, and any terms related to us such as transgender, gender, sex, pregnant people, Black, Indigenous, etc., we are seeing a digital book burning across a massive scale.

Musk and his cronies are hacking the US government's agencies and US Treasury Payment System without being confirmed by Congress nor hired as a federal worker. They're often acting in secret and seem to be installing private servers to download massive reams of data. They are pushing untested code into the Treasury's Payment Systems with little to no understanding of how the system works, which is massively dangerous and could destabilize the entire system. All of which is illegal, unconstitutional, dangerous, and massive security risks.

They are even making 'target lists' that list anyone who has been involved with Diversity and Inclusion or used pronouns in their bios.

It's great that lawsuits are happening now, but they won't save us. What we need is people to march in, kick out these goons, and blockade them from entering again. FBI could do this, but instead they're suing Trump which is good but not enough. Senators should be doing blocking access physically, but instead they do speeches and write strongly worded letters.

So it's up to us to sabotage the techbros vile plan as much as possible. They are fascist, tech-nazis, and they don't care who they destroy and kill in their thirst for power.

SO WHAT NEXT?

We need to engage in care toward one another and ourselves first and foremost. We can't survive a fascist/Nazi coup unless we have energy and health to do so. So make sure you take care of yourself and your friends/loved ones.

For other actions to take, there's a lot to consider, and below is just to get people started:

Make a safety plan first, which I cover in the below post (Censored Secret expanded on mine here):

The following are other actions to consider taking. It can be helpful to have people you trust to have your back work through the safety plan and the list below with you.

We are not alone, and although the US culture tries to instill this rugged individualism, that isn't true to human nature. We're naturally cooperative creatures, and we can work together collectively to stop the fascists and build up better.

Archive documents. Archivists right now are working to archive and save thousands of government documents, especially those pertaining to health and other scientific studies. Create your own archives. Here's two sites that explains how to do that: Practical Guide to Fighting Censorship AND Archiving 101.

Make a list of your skills and capacity. Make it a skill list party with friends, where you all work on your lists together. (Can do this with crafting safety plans too.)

Plan and/or Engage in Community Grief and/or Community Care sessions. Be creative! Use the arts or writing or talking in a circle (where whoever holds the stone speaks). This can help avoid burnout.

List people you trust that have your back and make sure you have their contact information in a secure offline location (go-to bag from safety plan for instance).

Learn some new skills such as first aid, archival work, gardening, etc. Be open and willing to learn from others who have done the work for awhile. Be open to offering to teach others your own skills. A skill-share can be crucial.

Write up and get notarized an Medical Power of Attorney and Will to avoid your safety and wellbeing doesn't fall into the hands of people you don't trust. Make sure you and your loved ones all have offline copies.

Make a list of medications, where you can source them, and alternate healthcare options in the case of emergencies where you cannot access your usual healthcare or pharmacy. This may require a little research.

Find like-minded groups such as local mutual aid groups, protest groups, mask blocs, etc., who are doing the community care work. Offer to help and follow through with the tasks you agree to do.

When working with a group/org, make sure the group has some sort of delegation system and accountability. Draft a mini-constitution together. This video has a good overview. Also, check out the short but thorough Anarchic Agreements by Ruth Kinna, Alex Prichard, Thomas Swann, and Seeds for Change.

Have your group/org work on building up mini-libraries for repair, books, food, essential supplies, and other items. Andrewism has some excellent videos about this here.

Check on your most vulnerable folks and find out what they need then follow through. Ask for their consent and only assist in what they ask for. Never presume to know what another person needs.

Do a Digital Cleanse (this site has actions you can do daily to work toward this).

Secure your data using encrypted tools, such as encrypted email, Signal, and tools like cryptpad.org for any organizing/protest conversations.

Defend your community by organizing together for safety and care -- this site has a good guide. Books on disability justice, transformative justice, and climate justice often have good organizing strategies and action items.

For more tips see an easy-to-read version of these tips in CensoredSecret's Post.

Andrea Pitzer on Next Comes What covers a lot of good tips and ideas to consider in order to survive and fight fascism. She digs into past examples as well.

For another good video, check out Imani Barbarin, a disabled activist and writer, who discusses how to establish a Progressive Media Apparatus.

For ways to build up a library ecosystem, Andrewism has some good starter videos:

Books and articles to read about organizing and mutual aid:

Surviving the Future edited by Branson, Hudsen, and Reed.

Imarin Barabarin has a set of videos on how to organize.

Mutual Aid by Dean Spade (also in anarchist library).

How We Show Up by Mia Birdsong

A People’s Guide to Abolition and Disability Justice by Katie Tastrom

The Sea is Rising and So Must We: A Climate Justice Handbook by Cynthia Kaufmann

Creative Interventions Workbook

Building Accountable Communities by Project Nia

eBook repositories can have the above books if one can't find at local library or have funds to purchase.

Protest Tips (I wrote in this reblog/post but copying here):

Protests rely on the movement of large amount of people. Signs can be made for them, plans on routes can be done (keep offline or use encrypted tools for planning), and assigning roles to help keep it organized.

When organizing sit-ins, it's even more crucial that people be trained to NOT talk to random folks pretending to be journalists. Have a designated communications role with people trained on what to say, and direct all journalists to that group. Stick to your assigned role's tasks.

If the care work for a sit-in is on a rotating schedule, make sure you are aware of that and pitch in your part to keep the sit-in safe, secure, and fed/watered.

Below are tips that focus on safety and security:

Wear a mask with and safety glasses. (Harder to identity you and it protects you from smoke, tear gas, and diseases.

Do Not Bring Your Phone. Or at the very least Do NOT turn it on as it can be used to identify you or obtain your location.

Do NOT advertise the full details of the protest and who is coming to the protest all over social media. Share about the protest's start locations as needed in your groups, but don't advertise it's march pattern or its end goal location or who is attending. These conversations about the march route, goal location, assigned roles, and etc need to happen either in-person with all phones off OR use an encrypted chat. You want to limit what the surveillance state can pull from posts.

Have designated medics who can help in case of injury or if Police try to shoot people or throw tear gas.

Have designated frontline people. These are the people at the front of the protest, the ones that are most likely to deal with police and/or fascists first. Use make-shift shields to help protect frontline people.

Have designated communication roles for people who are educated/trained on how to speak to journalists/news and who can keep the message consistent.

Have designated people who assist those with disabilities to make sure they care able to stay safe and escape if things turn sour. Stay with your assigned peeps!

Have a designated protest partner to help watch your back. Stay with your assigned peeps!

Have designated suppliers, who carry supplies for medics and/or frontline and/or other roles.

Have a plan in case the police try to kettle protesters. A kettle is when police block off routes to escape, thus trapping protestors in a smaller area. This is done to shut down protestors, demoralize, frighten, and mass arrest. Make sure everyone knows the plan and abides by it.

Write on your arm the numbers of lawyers and/or people you can contact in case of arrest.

We're in a fight for our right to exist and for survival.

Be safe all.

[justiceforplutoo]

6 January 2025

EDIT : I just realized I said it was 2024 instead of 2025 when I first posted this. don't panic, but .. I might be stupid .. ?

New Years Goal: actually post.. I say this all the time and then I never do.. we’re gonna try again this year though!! ㅠㅅㅠ

I’m so late for this, but for Christmas I had a blast! My (boy)friend (/hj) got me Taylor Swift's folklore CD (deluxe!!!) so I'm planning the wedding :) My other friend painted me and her as Snoopy and Woodstock, which is really the dream. I haven't gotten anyone Christmas gifts yet, mainly because I'm a broke teenager, but also because I'm a broke teenager, which is totally different, you know. (I'm working on it. Kind of.) (Just focus on the yet part.) And then, my parents took me book shopping… which was awesome!! I'm addicted to classic literature, so of course the haul was insanely huge, but very (very) worth it!!

First read out of the bunch was Mary Barnard's translation of Sappho. Sappho was obviously amazing! I do wish that she'd have included things like the fragment numbers or maybe a notes section, as Sappho makes a lot of references to things I would have liked to know more context surrounding. I plan on reading more Sappho in the future, however, so I'm sure it'll make sense... eventually?

I'm currently reading three books, but out of all of them, my main read is probably Penguin's Fall of the House of Usher and Other Writings, which is of course a bunch of Edgar Allan Poe. I'm about a 1/3 the way through, I think? It's hard to calculate, since I'm not reading them in order, but I'm really, really enjoying it so far. "Cask of Amontillado" is an addiction and Montresor is my hear me out list, no questions asked.

My next "big" read is probably going to be Beowulf. I finally got my grubby little hands on it, and I can't wait to take a little bite... lol... if I like it, I'm hoping to probably look for J.R.R. Tolkien's translation! I think I'll really enjoy a comparison.

For school stuff, I've been...very...stressed out recently...which is fine, it's just kind of a lot to be dealing with at once. I have a lot of procrastinated assignments that I didn't want to deal with over Winter Break and I just can't help but be so guilty about it! I've been trying to remind myself that grades is not equivalent to worth, but it's...hard... 😅

I'm signing up for our high school's chapter of the National Honor Society. I'm equal parts nervous that I won't get in, but on the other hand, our school sucks. So, I'll probably get in. I'll keep you guys posted? Ack! I'm nervous. I'm also signing up for HOSA Nationals, which is pretty important since I plan on going into Health later. Everyone please bully me until I do my stuff. This is important.

assignments I should probably do that are probably important:

turn in my math homework..

ap world essay

turn in ap world homework..

take ap psych test that I am procrastinating

finish ap pysch study guide that I am also procrastinating

sign up for meditation so I don't strangle somebody to procrastinate ap psych some more

turn in ap bio homework.. (I'm sensing a trend)

turn in ela homework.. (hmm...)

🌟🎧🌟 : 'H.S.K.T. (feat. Wonstein)' by LeeHi

🌟📚🌟 : The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Writings

[fanfics4all]

Deep Sleep

Request: Yes / No  List was made by @alpaca-clouds

Requests are open only if its CHRISTMAS/HOLIDAY/ WINTER related <3 Have a nice day/night

FP Jones x Daughter!Reader 

Word count: 533

Warnings: Nothing!

Y/N: Your Name 

Prompt(s):

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee! 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

*Fp’s POV*

She was so tired. Her head was falling forward as she started nodding off, her eyes heavy as they flutter shut. She was too damn stubborn to admit it though. It was late and we were just watching a movie together.

“You should go to bed, kiddo.” I mentioned. She shook her head, but lent on my shoulder. We watched the movie for a bit longer, until Y/N started falling asleep again and slipped off my shoulder. Her head snapped up and looked around slightly dazed. 

“Come on, Queenie.” I said as I pat my thighs. 

“Mmm…” She hummed as her head rested against my thigh. I smiled and gently combed my fingers through her hair. Her breathing quickly evened out and she was asleep in no time. 

Once the movie was over I looked down at my daughter, she was still fast asleep. I grabbed the remote and turned the T.V. off. I stretched slightly, careful not to wake her. 

“Alright, let’s get you to bed.” I said to myself. I gently placed my hands under her back and knees. I picked her up easily and she stirred slightly. 

“I got you kiddo.” I whispered. She mumbled something quietly and her eyes fluttered. 

“Relax, I’m just gettin’ you to bed.” I said with a smile. 

“Thanks Daddy.” She mumbled and I chuckled slightly. I gently laid her on her bed, pulling the covers over her and kiss her head. Her soft snores filled the room and I smiled. She needed as much sleep as she could get right now. I left the room and decided to watch a bit more T.V. while I waited for Jughead to come home. 

An hour later the front door was loudly opened and in walked my son. I turned off the T.V. and sent him a glare. He head right for the kitchen and started loudly looking for something to eat. 

“Boy you better quiet down.” I said and he looked up at me. 

“Why?” He asked confused. 

“Your sister’s asleep and she ain’t been sleeping well.” I said and he looked into the hallway. I got up and sent to go check on her. She was still in bed asleep and slightly drolling. I smiled and shook my head a bit. I walked back out to find Jug eating some left over chinese we had gotten. 

“Did I wake her?” He asked and I shook my head. 

“She’s out like a light. Make sure you’re quiet when you go to bed, I don’t want her wakin’ up tonight.” I said and he nodded. 

“She still stressing about school?” He asked and I sighed. 

“Yeah… She’s been up studying for weeks.” I answered. 

“I’ll try and distract her tomorrow, she needs to relax a bit.” He said and I smiled. 

“Good luck, she’s damn stubborn.” I said and Jughead laughed. 

“Oh, I know.” He said as he finished the food. 

“I’m gonna head to bed, night Dad.” He said. 

“Night, son.” I said and watched him quietly sneak into the room he shared with his sister. I yawned and decided it was time for me to head to bed too. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @emo-godess-loves-you @hiya-imthatgirl @mindsetjupiter @averysinclaire @mittelerde1999 @sweetest-peas @rousewriter @camiconfessions-blog @thecaptainsgingersnap @cenyddtheunicorn @jacksxsouthsideserpents @lover2448 @mamacobie13 @adamsbubblegumbitch

[f4irycafe]

saw a prrty girl do this on the tl, so I’M doing it on MY tl😘 also writing this while high, i’ll tag her account !!

pairings: college!sam x art major!reader

college!sam who is your tutor in a really hard bio class that is required for your degree. something dumb about core curriculum. it’s your second yr at university and he’s the tall, dark, and handsome quiet kid in your class.

college!sam who noticed the cute chubby girl the first day of class and was instantly enamored with her. her sweet little outfits, and wigs and braids that never stayed in her head for more than a week. a breath of fresh air compared to the stanford law standard.

college!sam who got your number after class. "figured i should get your number so we can communicate about when to meet up." "sounds good to me!" you responded, not giving this man the satisfaction of seeing you get flustered in his presence.

college!sam was nervous to text you first, but quickly realised you were super easy to talk to. the two of you became fast friends, but sam knew he wanted something more. you always used cute little emoji's and wished him well, it made his heart flutter.

college!sam who lives in the library, so that's where the two of you study. he even gets you a private study room. the excuse he uses is that he wants there to be no distractions, but he really just wants uninterrupted time with you.

college!sam who has your study order memorized after a month of studying together and always picks up your matcha latte before your session. the first time he did it you blushed and told him there was no need, but he just shrugged you off. you were slowly starting to fall for him, while he was already head over heels for you.

college!sam was pretty mysterious. he kept his secrets close to his heart. whenever you asked him a person question all you'd get is one of his cute dimple smile and a redirected conversation. you wanted him to open up to you, even though you had no right to that information. he was just your tutor.

when college!sam offers a late ngiht study session at his place that night instead of the library cuz he was busy during the time you guys would usually meet.

college!sam who makes sure his room is as clean as he can get it (he is still a college boy after all) when you come over. he makes sure to have snacks and he even picked up your study order from starbucks earlier.

college!sam who can't stop staring at you as you sit across from him on his bed, hunched over your notes with a cute pout on your face as you eagerly try and digest the information.

"[insert a question abt bio here bcuz i'm a writing major hehe] ... sam are you even paying attention?" you asked with a smile. he stutters over his words before finally deciding to just come out with it.

college!sam who blurts out he likes you in the middle of your study sesh when you're mid question. you say yes ofc. how could you not? this pretty puppy dog 6'4 monster has been obsessed with you since the day he laid eyes on you.

elles thoughts: pt 2??? yay or nay?

[girlsneedff]

Impted

Chosou x reader

Slightly NSFW- sexual activities are only mentioned. Still, minors and ageless bios stay away from this pls!!

This is based off of the song Imported by Jessie Reyez and 6LACK. I was blasting that all while writing (and not studying for finals).

Oh, and I drew the pic…

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ *:.｡. o .｡.:*☆

He doesn’t know why he’s getting so sad over this. It happens all the time. The girl that he loves finds some guy at a party, then they head home together, leaving Chosou a wreck. He knows it’s not fair, and he should have moved on a long time ago, but he can’t.

It’s hard to move on from someone you love- especially when she’s telling him “I love you” back. But she doesn’t want to make it official- she knows that this man will literally walk on his hands and knees to appease her, and she acts like he’s just some guy. It aggravates him to high hell, but he’s still hopeful about her.

This night was no different. She came with Chosou, and she’s leaving with another man. He can see her chatting this guy up from across the room in the house party. She’s batting her lashes up at him, playing with her hair, letting him feel all up on her. Chosou’s seething- you can practically see the steam rising from his head. With every bass boosted beat of the music in the house his heart is being torn to shreds. But she’s made it pretty clear that the two of them aren’t together- at all. He’s beginning to realize that they never will be.

“You look pissed as hell.”

A voice from behind him says, as (presumably, the owner of said voice) snakes an arm across his shoulder, leaning over the back of the chair to talk to him.

He peels his eyes off of ‘his girl’ and gives his attention to the voice.

It’s you. Your hair’s done up- you’re wearing a tube dress with necklaces and other jewelry adorning you. Lipgloss is shining. You’re smirking at him. He’s never seen you before- ever.

He doesn’t respond to you. Instead, he just looks at you blankly, then back at the girl he came with, dancing with another man.

“You like her, huh? In love with your best friend?”

That annoys Chosou a little bit. They’re not best friends- they’re… they…. Fuck he doesn’t even know. He takes a sip of his alcohol, just trying not to send his mind into a spiral.

“I get it. Happens to the best of us.”

Chosou would really prefer if you left him alone to wallow in his own self pity, but it seems that you have no intention of doing that. You haphazardly rub his chest, trying to comfort him.

“Thank you for- thank you for coming to my party.” You slur, smiling warmly.

Great. A drunk hostess. Not that he also wasn’t tipsy- it’s just that he’s sitting down, and he’s focusing all of his sobriety on his love.

And this is your house. It must look so nice when it’s not full of a bunch of mid to late 20-year olds getting wasted as fuck and destroying the place.

“Thank you for having me…”

“Of courseeeee,”

He side eyes you, as you place your head in your other hand.

“You’re too cute to be here upset about a girl.”

You grab the back of his head, which startles him, a tinge of red dancing across his cheeks as you move his head to look around.

“Take aaaa look at all of the possibiliessss.”

You’re referencing all of the people in your home right now. He doesn’t doubt that there’s some beauties in your humble abode, but they’re not her.

When you let go he looks back up at you, rubbing the back of his head clumsily. Now he’s really looking at you. Before he was so focused on his girl that’s not his girl, but now that he’s really really looking at you-

You’re bad as fuck. Real bad. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or the fact that he’s been ignoring his heart skipping beats like it’s beatboxing ever since you came to pester him. He hasn’t felt this feeling for anyone but her in a long time.

You pick up on his staring, looking him up and down. Then you say, with a sly grin:

“Maybe I can offer some help…”

He stiffens, and it’s noticeable. You let out a small hum, seemingly happy with his reaction, running the hand wrapped around him along his chest.

“Come with me.”

You take said hand and grab his jaw, turning it towards his situationship.

“You really want to sit… and watch in agony?”

He gulps, feeling his heart squeeze even harder, watching this girl on the verge of kissing the random man of the night.

“Your eyes are so easy to read.”

He looks to his side, and sees you leaning over further, damn near falling onto the couch to look at his face.

“At least for now, I can help you forget.”

His face is burning up, and he’s feeling dizzy. Maybe it’s the drink? Or his situation? Or how close you are to his face?

“If you’re not down to fuck, that’s fine too. We can have fun other-“

“I want to fuck.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even process what he was saying with the little control he had.

You let out another hum in satisfaction with a grin.

“Shit- ok then.” You kiss his cheek sloppily, then stand back up behind the couch, waiting for him so you guys can go.

He stands up, looking at ‘his girl’ then back at you over his shoulder. You’re leaning against the wall with your arms crossed, looking at him. Obviously undressing him with your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek.

Your confidence and unabashed ogling is something he’s not used to.

Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but he likes it. Maybe it’s the punch you’ve brewed up for this party, but he’s starting to remember it’s nothing serious between him and ole girl. Perhaps it’s the drink, but he hopes you grip his hair just as roughly as you were doing before, whether he’s eating you out, or you’re riding.

You’re here- for the night, at least. It’s been so long since he’s had sex.

For once, his mind isn’t on her.

Maybe the best way for him to get her out of his head is to get inside of you- at least for the night.

[thejournalisttintin]

I did these separate so I could combine them all into one.

Here are several Tintin OCs I’ve reworked, plus a new one I’ve designed.

Meet the Wang-Hughes family. They consist of mom Li Jing, her husband William, and her three children Yina, Mei, and Chen.

I redesigned them with the idea that Li would essentially be related to Chang in a sense. I originally designed her as a Korean character, but when I started to think about redesigning my old Tintin OCs, I thought to tie her in to my Tintin fan universe.

More headcanon info on this fam! (Possible TW for racism):

Li is one of Chang's oldest cousins living in London.

As a child, Li was raised by her father (Chang's uncle). Having grown up in London most of her life, she was more adapted to Westernized culture.

She was an excellent student as a child. She was intelligent and studious, always willing to do her homework. She also loved to dance and paint.

Painting was Li’s way of expressing herself. But her father once said that she should focus more on her studies than painting. So she decided to keep painting in secret.

When Li was a young adult in her mid to late twenties, she met William, an art historian from Oxford. For a few months, they had fallen in love.

Some time after, Li decided to have William meet her family. Her father was apprehensive to William at first; he claimed William's career was not at all a way to provide for a family, and that Li should focus more on a career that paid well. But Li asserted her statement that William has a kind heart and he loves her for her personality.

It was because of that argument that she and her father had become estranged for quite a while.

Having made her decision, Li and William had married. They now have three children together; two daughters named Yina and Mei, and their infant son Chen.

There were often times when Li had longed to visit her relatives in Shanghai. But she was secretly worried that her relatives would not approve of how she has raised within a different culture.

Li had tried to embrace her heritage a few times, but she often backslid because of the times she had racist slurs thrown at her. But she tried her best to show her pride for her culture.

Which comes to my next point: After her daughters Yina and Mei were born, Li wanted them to honor their heritage. So she decided to teach them the traditions her father would show her. But at the same time, she was worried that her daughters would also be a target of bullying and racism because of their heritage.

The only other time her father had contacted Li was when he informed her that his nephew Chang would be coming to stay with him for a while. This made Li nervous, mainly because she didn't know that her relatives in Shanghai had adopted a new son into their family.

When Li heard the news report of a plane crash in the Himalayas, she was worried for Chang. She even kept imagining that something terrible had happened to him. But William assured her that he would be fine.

When Chang finally met Li, Li was immediately overcome with emotion once she saw that Chang was alive and well.

Yina and Mei immediately took a liking to Chang, which meant that he babysat them more often than not. And occasionally, he had a bit of help from Tintin, who has little to no experience with small children.

Anyway, that’s all the information I have for them! Hope you enjoy ☺️

EDIT: I've decided to rewrite her bio a little, thanks to some helpful info @professorcalculusstanaccount suggested on Discord

[decepti-thots]

Only if it's fun for you, but: what are Autobot meetings about understaffing like. Who is aiming weapons at who about We're A Family Here We Just All Have To Do Our Part

this would be continuity dependent but we both know idw1 so let's do that. 'high command' is an extremely ill-defined concept in that continuity, so for simplicity's sake i am assuming that prominent g1 characters are mostly assumed, by virtue of Main Character Energy, to be command in some way.

mirage is a rich motherfucker whose bios have all historically been like "this snobby little shit" and to me, that has BIG "never been anything less than a manager of employees" energy. he definitely thinks "we're all a family so pull together, i had three zoom meetings today" is a progressive, friendly approach. he stayed late last night! on mute in a very boring meeting! this is the exact same thing, probably!

magnus canonically gives lectures on labour rights to swerve unprompted and i think he is a rare case of a by-the-book uptight asshole whose idea of "by the book" includes things like "unpaid overtime is Illegal" and "studies show that adequate breaks improve efficiency by 84%". he should by all rights also be an annoying rich asshole, however unlike everyone else he really is the sort of person who memorized the employee handbook, and if you tried to argue that "we're like a family, not a workplace!" he would in fact take personal offence. how dare you. this is a place of work and there are rules. mirage if you let your agents do unlogged overtime again he's throwing you in the brig. he does also time bathroom breaks though, jesus christ dude. he sits in the middle.

jazz used to run a union. and it would not actually be possible to start one up in the mess that is the autobot army, but the implicit threat that if someone as highly respected by the troops as he is ever tried he could bring everything to a standstill in the middle of a Literal Fucking War means that all he ever has to do when things get too bad is make an offhand, not-quite-joking comment and optimus is like "okay okay everyone calm down" immediately.

prowl will call his agents at 2am and if you try and object he literally ignores you and just keeps talking.

[bmbxy-mri]

Tonight, BAI BAOQIN of clan TZIMISCE hunts for their next meal. the 10TH GENERATION + ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE year-old cainite, embraced when they were TWENTY-THREE, will use their disciplines of ANIMALISM and PROTEAN to make quick work of their prey. BAOQIN has pledged their loyalty to ANARCHS, and in the wake of the prince’s announcement, they’ve chosen to DEFY the fragile peace he cemented so long ago.

Hello, I’m Vin! I’m so excited to get my girl out there and start writing with all of you! Sorry I'm late with my intro.This is my first Tumblr rp, so admittedly I'm still figuring this whole thing out, but I have a lot of ideas and I'm looking forward to getting to know all your muses! Leave a like and i’ll reach out through dms!

Bio

Born in rural China, Baoqin spent most of her early life studying under her grandfather, working to become a scholar, physician, and scholar.

Embraced by Irina Vasileva, a foreign Tzimisce, who was enamored with how Baoqin’s mind worked and sought to work together with the young woman to gain a better understanding of the kindred condition and how they might further evolve past their physical bodies.

During The Cultural Revolution Baoqin fled to South Korea. With her primary source of income and power in shambles back in her motherland she was forced to start anew in Seoul.

Using her decades worth of pharmaceutical and traditional medical knowledge, Baoqin quickly established a presence in the medical world in Seoul, trusting a few select ghouls to lead her businesses. Within only a few decades her businesses became widely successful, leading to her opening a small chain of exclusive spas in the 1990s.

On the kindred side of things, Baoqin led a largely isolated life before moving to Seoul. The only vampire she had any contact with was her sire, and without her there to guide her in vampire politics she had to adapt quickly to her new unlife.

 Under the Camarilla-led Seoul she had attempted to keep her nose down, to not make too much noise as an outsider, but quickly found that to be difficult. Only knowing compassion and camaraderie with her sire, she extended the same kindness to others, regardless of their age or clan. Often sticking up for fledglings and offering help in integrating them into their new life, offering temporary safe havens in her spas.

This outspokenness and compassion for kindred led to her being seen as sort of a leader amongst the younger kindred. Using this to her advantage Baoqin became Baron of zone 4, pushing out the previous ruler only 40 years after she arrived.

In modern nights she spends her time philosophizing on what the future for kindred should be, as the camarilla has seemingly failed and the only attribute the anarch free states have is their lack of governance, but also surveying her domain, ensuring any newly embraced kindred have a home within her court.

Wanted Connections

Adopted Childe: One of the first fledglings Baoqin took under her wing. During their first nights, Baoqin acted as a mentor to your muse, teaching them how to survive as a modern vampire and helped establish a foothold for them within the city.

Enemy in the Court: Baoqin’s penchant for siding with the neonates and fledglings of Seoul has definitely rubbed some of the elders the wrong way, stepping on toes and crossing boundaries. Your muse is one of the many disgruntled Elders who have formed a sort of rivalry with her.  

Camarilla Ally: Despite finding herself aligned with the Anarchs, Baoqin has always believed in the importance of building bridges within the kindred community, regardless of their political affiliation. Throughout the years your muse and Baoqin have met each other on equal ground and helped each other assess threats, build a stronger base, and keep the peace between their two domains. Throughout this process what started as exclusively a mutual agreement of trust has flourished into a proper friendship

Philosophical Rival: As often with academics, Baoqin and your muse do not see eye to eye on many matters, whether that be the type of governance kindred should move towards, what it means to be kindred, or their relationship with the kine, the two are often locked in night-spanning debates. These debates often lead to them both further growing their ideas and evolving their viewpoints, but with how heated they become the two could never admit the amount of influence they’ve had on each other’s philosophies.

Future Leader: As an outsider to Korea, Baoqin feels that she would never be allowed to take a higher position than what's already been given to her. However, with the prince leaving for the middle east and a new power vacuum being created, the opportunity for meaningful change within their society is finally within grasp. Baoqin has offered to help your muse take over the city in place of the barons and prince, in exchange that you listen to some of her ideas…

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