#i'm not punctual either

[eri-pl]

I really like the take on Miriel!

I also get a vibe that her relationship with the — whatever to call it, religion??? — is complicated and has some bumps along the way. I'm not set on how exactly and clearly the bumps cannot be *too* big, but there sure was something going on.

I think she may be attracted to Pharazon even at the moment of marriage — she was in her youth, that is at least suggested. Maybe some bad boy crush vibes. Yes, I know she was old, but still. But surely she would be conflicted about it.

Palantir… Yea, I'd say a big part of the country did him wrong, and Pharazon did him wrong too. Or at least did his memory wrong or however to phrase that.

I agree that the Valar didn't, but for me this does go against the Silm. I think that being offended at him / at the whole nation would be wrong, and so "wrath of the Valar" is more than just an awkward phrasing. It's one of the places where I just chose to ignore the text and blame it on the narrative frame, because I think the text goes against Tolkien's stated goals and ideas (here: the Valar being the good guys close to Christian moral ideals).

But then we have the whole Atlantis thing, so… As I said today already, even the Silmarillion can't stand too much analysing it. As you call it rightly, kitchen sink.

Anyway I love your takes! Even when I disagreee on some, I love how thought out they seem in general.

PS: More regret for chartacters = good :D (put 'em to the salad spinner! for… idk the catharsis or something? that's what characters are for. salad spinner with a happy or bittersweet ending. the best.)

🔥 Tar-Palantir and/or Tar-Miriel

First of all, my deepest apologies for taking so long to reply — life stuff happened, but also I'm just simply awful at being punctual. In any case. Míriel (with a side dose of Palantir):

My key unpopular opinion about her is that I actually vaguely subscribe to the draft where she married Pharazon of her own will, mostly because it feels like the easiest way to make sense of the developments for me (I'm absolutely not saying there aren't any others, ftr, it's just a personal preference on my part).

And so, it follows that I think she was not entirely attached to her faithful heritage at the time she ascended to the throne. She saw her father's efforts achieve nothing except to bring him extreme unpopularity... she feels betrayed by the ones her father trusted¹ and yearns not to be reviled for once... The general idea behind the marriage is to unite the country.

That's how Pharazon presents it to her at least, and I'm not sure to what extent it is his true aim — he is certainly seeking power, but perhaps not yet aiming to outright usurp it. And he is passionate about her, while she isn't in love with him, but likes him more than other candidates for her husband. And of course, she's seen him be cruel before — but not to her.

By the time Pharazon's war with Sauron begins, however, it is long since she held any power, and as Númenor grows more and more corrupt, she slowly begins to return to her roots, because there is no comfort for her elsewhere. In the long run, I don't think it actually changes her fate much from the proper Silm version, save by giving her even more to regret.

¹My vaguely unpopular opinion on Palantir, otoh, could be that I don't actually think the Valar, or anyone, did him wrong. The Silm has some slightly awkward phrasing, but ultimately —a nation doesn't change in one day, and both Eru and the Valar respect free will. If the people of Númenor have spent a millennium festering in a state of decadent, grasping discontent... I don't think it's unlikely that it really was too late for one king's reign to change the course they were going.

Send me 🔥 + a character/place/theme/subject and I'll reply with a hot take about them

[tardis--dreams]

God i could have such a chill evening if it wasn't for that doctor's appointment tomorrow morning looming over me

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I think the reader's response to this post is probably going to either be "That's incredibly minor" or "Holy shit YES I'M ALSO PROUD", depending on people's personal experiences with academia, but:

Today I am incredibly proud of one of my students.

In the interests of disguising identities, let's call them Ceri. Ceri is one of my third year undergrads (meaning their final year, for anyone unfamiliar with UK uni systems.) They transferred to us last year, and within two weeks I was giving them the contact info to get to Student Services and get themself screened for ADHD; they have some mental health struggles, but I clocked pretty quickly that they STRUGGLE with procrastination, and punctuality, and attending 9am lectures in particular. Naturally, as is the way of my people, it took them a further four months to remember to go to the screening. Lol. Lmao. Rofl, in fact.

But, they did it eventually! Their screening lit up like a Christmas tree at the ADHD section, and they got a free laptop and optional one week extensions and a study support worker named Claire. This has helped tremendously, and although mental health + until-then-unsupported ADHD meant their academic profile had slid sideways somewhat, with the new tools available and a couple of resits they passed the year and hit this year running.

Until, that is, the last fortnight.

Now, I take them for a Habitat Management module that has two assessments: an academic poster presentation before Christmas, and a site-specific management plan in May. Naturally this means we are at that happy point in the year for the poster presentations. I give out the briefs at the start of the year, so they've had them since October; I've also been periodically checking in with them all for weeks, to make sure they don't have any major burning questions. The poster presentation was to pick a species reintroduction project, pull the habitat feasibility study out of it, and then critique that study; Ceri chose to look at the hen harrier reintroductions proposed for the southern UK. All good.

Which brings us nicely to today! Ceri's presentation is scheduled for 2.30. At 11am-1pm, I am lecturing the first years on Biodiversity, while Ceri is learning about environmental impact assessment with a colleague I shall call Aeron. This means we are separately occupied during those same hours.

Nevertheless, Aeron messages me at about 12.

"I think Ceri needs to see you after your lecture," he writes. "They're panicking, I genuinely think they might cry. I'm worried. Are you free at 1?"

I say I am. At 1, I get lunch and sit in the common area; Ceri comes to see me. To my personal shame, imagine all of the following takes place while I stuff my face with potato.

Now: this part is going to be uncomfortably familiar to anyone who has ever tried higher education with ADHD, especially unmedicated. It certainly was for me. All I can say is, I never had the courage to take the step here that Ceri did.

"I have to confess," they said quietly, and Aeron was right, they were fighting back tears. "My mental health has been so, so bad for the last fortnight. I've left it way, way too late. I don't have anything to present."

"Nothing at all?" I asked.

"I've been researching," they said helplessly. "I found loads on the decline of the hen harrier. But it wasn't until last night that I finally found a habitat feasibility study to critique. Generally... I've been burying my head about it, and it just got later and later. I thought I should come in for Aeron's lecture, and I should at least tell you."

This part is a minor thing, right? But honestly, I remember being in the grip of that particular shame spiral. I never did manage to tell my lecturers to their faces. I just avoided. I honestly can't imagine having the courage it took them to come in and tell me this, rather than just staying home and avoiding me.

"I think..." they said hesitantly, "I know I can submit up to a week late, for a capped mark. I think I need to do that, and apply for extenuating circumstances. But then I'll have both Aeron's assignment and yours due at the same time."

Which meant they would crumble under the pressure and likely struggle to pass both; so me, being as noble and heroic as I unarguably am, stopped eating potato and said, "Let's make that plan B."

(It was good potato. I am a hero.)

So, we made plan A: I moved their timeslot to 4.30, giving them three and a half hours. The shining piece of luck in this whole thing was that this was the crunch time assignment - if it had been Aeron's, they'd have had to try and write a 3000 report in that time. But for me, all they had to write was an academic poster, and those things are light on words by design. We found them a Canva template, and then we quickly sketched out a recommended structure based on the brief: if it's habitat feasibility, look at food availability, nesting site availability, and mortality risks in the target release site. Bullet point each. Bullet point how well the study assessed each. Write a quick intro and conclusion. Take notes as you go, and present the poster itself at 4.30.

"You think I should try?" they asked doubtfully, looking like I'd just asked them to go mano-a-mano with a feral badger.

"If you run out of time, so be it," I said. "But your brain is trying to protect you from a non-existent tiger. That's why you've procrastinated - it's been horrible, and you've been shame spiralling, and your brain is trying to shield you from the negative experience; but it's the wrong type of help for this situation! So while you're sitting there working on it, hating life, every time your brain goes 'This is hopeless, I can't do it', you think right back 'Yes I can, it just sucks.' And you carry on. Good?"

"Good," they said. "I'm going to mainline coffee and hole up in the library. Enjoy your potato."

And then, of course, I had to go and watch the other students' presentations, so that was the end of me being any help at all. I spent all afternoon wondering if they were going to manage it, or if I would be getting a message at 4.25 telling me they'd failed, and would have to submit late and hope for an EC.

And Tumblrs

Tumblrs

Let me FUCKING tell you

They turned up at 4.15, fifteen minutes early, wearing a mask of grim, harrowed determination and fuelled by spite and coffee, and they pulled up that poster and started presenting and yes, okay, I'll admit their actual delivery was dramatically unpolished and yes, they forgot to include the taxanomic name for the hen harrier on the poster and yes, fine, I admit that there were more than a few awkward moments where they lost their place in their hastily scribbled notebook but LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU -

They smashed it. It was well-critiqued, it had a map, it had full citations, it had a section on the hen harrier's specific ecology and role in the ecosystem, it had notes on their specific conservation measures. They described case studies they'd read about elsewhere. They answered the questions we threw at them with competence and depth. There was analysis. All that background research they'd done came right to the fore. They were even within the time limit by 15 seconds.

You would never have known they'd produced it in three hours, from a quivering and terrified mess fighting the bodily urge to dehydrate via tear ducts. After they left, the second marker and I looked at each other and went "So that was a 2:1, right?"

I caught up with Aeron downstairs and he was beaming. Apparently Ceri had seen him on their way out, and had gone over to talk to him. Aeron said the difference between the Ceri of this morning and the Ceri of then was like two different people; in four hours, they'd gone from their voice literally breaking as they admitted the problem, ashamed and broken, to being relaxed and happy and smiling.

"I reckon I've passed," they apparently told Aeron, pleased. "Maybe even a 2:2. There's things I wish I'd had the time to do better, but I'll be happy if I passed."

They won't know until late January what they got, because we're not allowed to release marks until 20 term days after hand-in, and the Christmas holidays are about to hit. But I'm really hoping I can be there when they're released.

But mostly, I'm just... insanely proud of them. I cannot tell you how happy I am. And I know, I know, obviously this is not a practice I would want to see them do regularly, or indeed ever again, and it only worked because they were fucking lucky with the assignment format, but like... when life is just punching you in the face, and you hit a breaking point... isn't it nice? That just this once, you pull off a miracle, and it's fixed? The disaster you thought was about to ruin you is gone? To get that relief?

Anyway. Super super proud today.

[ddejavvu]

job interview with aaron and as soon as you shake hands your apple watches shows the high heart rate alert (more in a cute crush way than a serious life threating way please💀)

You're not nervous, per se, but there's certainly something that's heating your face and twisting your stomach. You're in the FBI headquarters. You're about to interview for the most prestigious position you've ever laid eyes on, and if you get the job, you'll be set for life. All you're waiting on is your interviewer, and you feel the buzz of your watch on your wrist alerting you to the meeting in your calendar at the precise second that the door beside you opens.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" Your interviewer asks, and you're already halfway out of your seat before he can get your last name out of his mouth. You're impressed with and grateful for his punctuality, but when you turn to face him you discover you've got a whole other reason to be hot in the face.

He's hot in the face.

His eyes and hair are matching dark hues that makes his soft pink smile all the more delicate and tender. His shoulders are broad and tightly hugged by his neatly pressed suit, and the hand that he holds out to you is strong when you shake it.

"I'm Aaron Hotchner," He introduces himself, and you'd known that, but you're infinitely grateful to hear the words out of his own mouth. Anything to prolong the time you get to spend listening to his voice.

Another vibration comes from your watch, this time accompanied by an invasive chime. You rush to shut it off, positive that you'd put the device on silent, but you realize why it's bypassed your settings: it's a medical alert.

Your heart rate has spiked, and while it's not exactly heart-attack material, it's not resting either. Something about this encounter is sending you into a frenzy, and you're quite certain it's not the job interview.

"Sorry," You try playing the situation off with a good-natured laugh, but there's a similar watch resting on his wrist, and you're sure he's heard the alert-specific chime before, "I thought I set it to silent."

"Medical alerts always make a sound," His heavy brows furrow into compassionate concern, and he moves forward to set a hand on your shoulder to guide you forwards into his office, "Come, sit down. We'll prolong the interview for a few minutes until you're feeling better."

Another chime sounds barely seconds after his hand begins resting on your shoulder, and you know right then and there that if he's going to wait until your heart rate is back to normal, the interview won't ever start.

[lovings4turn]

Lando has often said he has a big neck and I am a big fan of neck kisses even not sexually speaking (most people see them just that way). So what about various moment of kissing Lando's neck (peck, various little kisses, etc). Like before/after a race, on stream, at a party, after waking up, while cooking, to give a couple ideas

oh nonnie darling thank you for this.. i'm a huge neck kisser in every aspect so this was perfect prompt material!!

it's always been a joke, to lando, at least. having a huge neck comes with the job, after all. he has to withstand g-force one way or another. but what he doesn't realise, is how much you love it.

it's become a tradition. ever since you got together in 2021, you've gone through the same routine pre-race. a kiss to both cheeks, for luck. a kiss to his lips, so he remembers you. and a kiss to either side of his neck, for strength. you can't count the times a photographer has caught you, trying to frame it as something scandalous. but in reality, it's anything but. it's a reminder that you're there to support him through the gruelling race, and lando dedicates his every lap and podium to it.

fans have also caught on. you rarely appear in streams, but when you do, they adore it. getting to see lando a little softer, more in his element, is something the fans eat up, but your cameos are always the star of the show. twitter definitely went crazy when you appeared one stream, pressing a kiss to the crook of his neck before asking if he wanted a tea, a coffee, a snack. lando, in true fashion, only shrugged it off with a smirk.

and many may praise the invention of the alarm clock for ensuring they wake up on time, but lando owes his punctuality to you. more specifically, your kisses. he's groggy when he feels a sensation against his skin, but quickly stirs as he registers your lips against his neck. a soft grumble escapes his lips, only providing a vibration against your lips as you pepper kisses to his neck. a raspy "g'morning, baby" escapes his lips, and he knows he's had the intended reaction when you imprints curve into the shape of a smile.

lando loves that it's your go to spot for affection! any time you pull him into a hug, he holds you tight and squeezes your waist, anticipating the feeling of soft lips against the skin of his neck. you can feel him physically relax against you, taught muscles turning to mush at your presence.

and of course, lando works to return the favour! with every kiss he recieves to his neck, you get one back! sometimes it's a little awkward, lando having to nudge your face out of the crook of his neck with his chin, but it's all worth it for the feeling of his mouth against your neck, kisses as gentle as fallen snow.

cause the truth is, lando loves your neck just as much as you love his

[fraugwinska]

Minors DNI - 18+ - Explicit Sexual Content - 4,6k words Attention: Mentions of fictional Witchcraft and Voodoo (I know this is a very sensitive topic, which is why I threaded very vaguely and lightly. I mean absolutely NO disrespect to either of those spiritualities)

Master of Puppets

You paced nervously through your room. The clock ticked the safe seconds away, the seconds Alastor where wasn't here. The seconds where Alastor didn't know.

He liked you, of course. At least enough to experiment with you, that much you could say with confidence. He had shown interest in the little witch inventor that joined the hotel, sharing the same proficiency in magic as himself. Although, unlike him, you had been an eclectic witch in your lifetime, and used more traditional western magic, whereas Alastor wasn't familiar with that, relying fully on voodoo practices he learned from the women of his family. So, you taught him and he taught you, and over the shared hours of lessons, discussions and practices, things got more and more... handsy. Until one day even the last gap between you was closed, and before both of you knew it you were sharing a bed more often than a book on sigils or rituals.

It was a mutual thing. You were insanely attracted to him, and he liked you well enough to indulge in activities he'd normally frown upon. Which made you feel special - It didn't soothe the nerves though, as you fumbled around with the little objects in the black carved box, making sure everything was perfect, before hastily slamming it shut when you heard knocks on the door.

"Yes?" you said, as if you hadn't been expecting him, as if your heart wasn't trying to leap out of your chest.

"Darling, it's me! May I come in?" you heard him say, and the door opening before you could answer. "I hope I'm not too early."

You turned around, giving him a shy smile after glancing at the clock on the wall. "You're right on time, as always."

"Punctuality is one of the only virtues I try uphold." He took a few steps towards you. "Is everything alright? You look nervous."

"Do I? It's... Nothing. I just have... I'm excited for something to show to you."

"Really?" He was intrigued, leaning in a little. "Well, now I'm curious. Is it the skinning spell you've been working on? I might have some test subjects in mind, if you are already finished."

You cleared your throat, feeling your heart beating painfully in your chest. "Not quite. I made something new, though."

"Oh?" he said, tilting his head to the side. "What is it?"

You fidgeted, not knowing how to start, how to ease him into it. He was a man that didn't appreciate if one beat around the bush, so better to rip the band-aid off in one violent, leap-of-faith-kind of way. You went to the black box, fingers trembling as you lifted the golden hatch, and before you could change your mind and call the whole thing off you scooped the small voodoo dolls out and held them out to him.

"I made these. For you... Us."

He was taken aback for a moment, not saying anything as he stared at the two little cloth figures, then down at you. They were intricately made replicas of you both, you had spent hours and hours sewing them, even going so far as to design and make identical outfits for them. He took both of them out of your hands, turning them slowly in his own, examining them with a frighteningly unreadable look.

"So you solely tried your hands on my profession I see. Why?" his eyes were boring into you, the smile on his face tight and tense, and you had to fight yourself not to stutter.

"I-I figured..." You swallowed hard. "I thought it could help us to... to be closer. More connected, in a way. And I thought you would like to... try this."

He blinked slowly, and the grin he wore stretched a bit further, the static getting louder in your ears. You were starting to think he didn't like it. You were starting to regret this.

"It is an unusual gift." His voice was calm, laced with a hint of curiosity, but you still couldn't relax. "Quite a surprise, too."

"Is that good or bad?" you asked, and he chuckled softly.

"I don't know, darling. That depends on how it will be used." He holds up your miniature, his brows raised expectantly. "Tell me how it works."

"Uh... Well, it's more of a mix between your and my magic. T-they have some of my spells sewn into them, and then I enchanted them on your altar. All that's left to do is to tie a hair around the neck of it and offer a drop of blood, and... we will be able to feel anything that's done to the doll."

"Feel?" He cocked his head to the side, eyes gleaming with dark excitement.

"Anything." Your throat was dry, the words almost catching there.

"That sounds positively delightful."

Your heart did a flip in your chest as his voice lowered into a purr, his eyes fixed on the tiny you, the static rising around him. He was captivated, but also suspicious, and that didn't make your anxiety lessen one bit. More so as he found the red stain on your dolls chest and the shimmer of a hair around its neck. Your version of a peace offering.

"It seems this little thing is already prepared and ready to use, isn't it, dearest?" he hummed, looking at you, the smile stretching wide and showing his sharp teeth.

"Yes... if you wanted to... see how it worked first. To decide whether you want to give it a try."

He laughed, and the sound made you shiver. There was no humor in it, but sheer anticipation. Hunger. "Well then. Better not waste such a generous opportunity."

He sat his own replica down on the nightstand next to your bed, and settled down on the mattress, patting the spot next to him for you to join. You did, sitting as stiff as a board, your eyes trained on him as he looked down at your little doll. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, before running his fingers across the doll's body, and you gasped.

All your hard work evidently payed off - The touch felt eerily real. Warm, like the heat of his hands was spreading all over you, a soft caress up the middle of your stomach, a tickle around your waist. His fingertips traveled upward, pressing softly against your chest, and your breath stocked in your lungs.

"You've really outdone yourself with this one darling. So receptive..." Alastor's smile widened into a full grin, and the fact that he didn't need to touch your skin to see the blush creeping across your cheeks was one detail he seemed to particularly enjoy. The rough feeling of his claws grating against you was replaced with the hot touch of phantom lips, pressing gently against your neck as he pulled the small shirt collar aside, his tongue licking across the doll's shoulder.

The sensation almost felt out of place in comparison, making you fall onto your back with a gasp, into the soft covers of your bed, unable to maintain any sort of composure. Instead of feather light touches, his mouth felt way heavier on your skin than it should. Warm, wet... As he scraped his teeth along the little doll's neck, a low moan slipped between your lips.

"And what attention to details. It's almost a shame to ruin your hard work, but oh well."

His eyes stayed on you as he hooked a fingertip under the dolls garments, cutting it clean off of it, and even though yours stayed fully intact - what you were feeling was a whole different story. Your eyes betrayed you: Even fully clothed you felt the cool air of your room on your skin, you felt exposed, bare and utterly vulnerable. It made your skin break out in goosebumps and your lips part in an unstifled sound of arousal.

"Gorgeous, darling... Absolutely wonderful. A truly masterful piece of magic." The tone of his voice was tingling all over you, a mixture of warm affection and dark cravings. You had never been one to enjoy being praised by a man, but it made you close your eyes and squirm with absolute and desperate need when it came from Alastor. Mouth already open to say something, the words died in your throat, replaced by a high whine when you felt a wet sensation traveling over your stomach down to the inside of your thighs. Your eyes snapped open, finding Alastor's again, his irises practically glowing and locked on you as he ran his tongue all the way across the small body. Teasing. Playing. He narrowed his eyes and traced every curve with the same meticulous patience you knew him for, the sensation sending shocks of excitement and adrenaline through you as it circled the dolls skin, drawing closer and closer to the most intimate parts, until there was nowhere else to trail, nowhere else for it to run to. He stopped, leaving you flushed and panting and shattered next to him on the bed.

"My, my, sweetheart..." he cooed, poking the little doll in his hands into it's side with the softest touch, making you jerk into his side. "At this rate, this seems more like a gift for you than for me."

The blush on your face deepened and you averted your eyes. "...You're probably not wrong."

"No, I'd say I am absolutely right," he chuckled, shifting closer and tracing a hand up your body and to your throat in a smooth motion, and your body arched into the touch with the ease of a moth to flame. For a moment, he didn't move, resting his claws wrapped around your neck, his fingertips heavy on your skin. He seemed to weight his options, deciding on how to proceed. Finally, he leaned into you, bringing his lips closer to yours and when he spoke it was barely a whisper.

"I'll trust you to rectify this circumstance then."

Your eyes widened when he stood up, gently placing your doll down and switching its place with his own. You sat up, watching how he carefully plucked a hair from his head, wrapping it tightly around the neck of his miniature alter ego. It looked almost sinfully elegant and downright seductive, how his long fingers tied it tightly, before he turned back to you, his grin splitting his face in half. There was something in his expression you haven't seen before - hesitancy. It was only a second, but you still held your breath as it passed, and he chuckled as he bit his lip, dark, almost black blood dripping onto the chest of the doll in his hands.

"A rare occasion for me to spill blood. I hope you'll make it worth it."

You swallowed heavily and he grinned, reaching for your hand and gently putting the doll on your palm, giving you a stern, commanding look. "My turn."

You nodded as he settled himself on your bed, now stretching himself fully on the mattress. Lifting your other hand you carefully laid one finger on top of his dolls' throat, before drawing your fingers across and down, over its chest and its sides, making his form shiver and his ears twitch. As you undid the small coat and shirt, dragging your nail gently over the dolls abdomen, Alastor gave a resounding, pleased sigh. You stared at him in wonder of your own work, silently asking yourself if your touches on the fabric in your hands felt as intensified as his did on yours before.

With a spark of nervous excitement you followed a whim of insanity, a quick glance confirming Alastor had his eyes closed. He had never before allowed you to touch his ears - now, their artificial counterparts were at your fingertips, and with a racing heart, you drew a stroke from the base of his ear right across its entire length, all the way until the fine point. A loud, drawn-out groan filled the room and your cheeks burnt crimson when his back arched and his hands twitched towards you, the knuckles white as he clenched them into fists, a tremor going through his shoulders. The groan ended in a long whine, the eyes snapping open and locking right into yours, and your breath hitched as you saw the smoldering embers. His grin grew tighter, strained, and he inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and the intensity of his gaze made your stomach drop, your whole body feeling exposed and naked despite still being fully dressed.

"Testy little thing. Always going for most dangerous experiments..." He shook his head as he exhaled slowly, his breath ragged and labored and in the soft illumination of your bedside lamp his neck was dusted a light pink. You marveled for a second, mesmerized. That was, until his tone dropped an octave, making your body snap back to attention, your nipples hardening painfully beneath your clothes. "How about another then, darling. You do that again..." His shadow tendrils shot out from nowhere, wrapping around your waist and thighs and lifting you over his face as you yelped and almost let the doll slip from your hands, the hem of your skirt pushed aside and heated core right above his watering mouth. "...while I do this."

With no time left for a reply, you felt your flimsy panties flicked aside and your body lowered onto his waiting tongue, all thought replaced by a sudden wave of blinding ecstasy. There was something truly addicting about the heat and hunger of his lips, the way they locked around your clit and sucked you down in the best form of torturous pain like life depended on it, his nails digging into your hips with force, while your brain was practically erasing every input but the burning sensation below. The doll in your hands, pressed to your heaving chest, was long forgotten as your head fell back and each swipe of his cursed appendix sent a shockwave through your spine. You groaned, you whimpered, and Alastor could taste the waves of delicious agony on his tongue. When he withdrew, the loss of his wet heat and the chill of the cool air against your slick folds made you almost break out in tears.

"Focus, dearest, on the task I gave you. Or do I have to repeat myself?"

The growl in his voice snapped you out of it and made you take a shaky breath before you finally composed yourself. Your fingers trembled as they grazed the tips of the dolls ears again, your movements almost trance like as your whole body yearned for it to return onto his lips. Alastor's brows furrowed, lips pursed for a second as you drew a slow, sensual line up the miniatures length, stopping and softly kneading at the pointed tip.

"Good girl." he murmured, voice breathy, and for a second you could have sworn you saw his eye twitch, though his grin stayed firmly plastered onto his face. His words sent an instantaneous warmth pooling in your lower stomach, and your chest fluttered as you tried to swallow down the intense elation that shot through your veins at those words - the same words Alastor used when you mastered one of his magical exercises, and although the praise was always flattering, in this context it felt downright lewd and utterly divine to be called that. When your hand lowered a bit, massaging the base of the dolls ears, Alastor's noises became low growls and deep purrs around the wet skin his lips devoured. The black vines on your waist and legs tightened their grip as well, pushing you deeper down onto his mouth.

You hadn't even registered what happened, but with a snap your top was ripped in the front, the clasp of your bra followed, and the familiar humming sound of his static made you squeal in surprise when his voice was suddenly much louder, his tongue shoved into you as far as he could go and his shadows ripping your clothes off at lightning speed. With both hands stroking, massaging and pulling the dolls ears now, the pure pleasure hitting you was almost too much, but as much as your hands ached for the real thing, to run your nails over the red fluff and trace the soft curves and edges of the dark antlers growing on the sides of his head, all you could do was imagine, with all your fingers on the dolls soft material instead and moving furiously up and down its head, to do exactly the same thing.

Alastor growled underneath you, the sound deep and rumbling, sending vibrations through your trembling thighs and against your sensitive skin, and it sounded so much more desperate and disoriented than you had ever heard from him before. Had you been looking down, had you been able to see anything beyond the mind-shattering pleasure, the wide blown pupils and the unfocused gaze in the glowing red irises, you might have wondered why that was - Alastor's control was slipping, and his smile finally was showing that.

In an instant your body was turned and placed on your back, your limbs shaking in the grip of his shadows and body utterly at the mercy of the tall red man leaning over you and undoing his bow tie with the rapidity and precision of a professional magician. His hair had gotten a little ruffled in the process, and his red shirt hung open and wrinkled against his skin.

"A compelling exercise indeed, my dear." he spoke, the rasp in his tone and the ragged breath accentuating his words. With a swift movement his jacket joined the shirt and harness that already had been thrown onto the floor somewhere, and then the shadows were back and prodding against the soaked cloth, the only thing left around your hips. They snuck into every slit they could find, exposing more and more of you, while their owner's gaze hungrily devoured every bit of exposed skin. The stretchable fabric made for easy work, but you had the distinct feeling they wouldn't have needed it at all as the shadows literally dissolved every thread they encountered. Alastor reached for your replica again, seemingly collecting himself and catching his breath.

"You are quite talented, and it'll be a joy to discover what other marvels your mind can come up with." His claw dragged down over the dolls' hips, one set of real, the other set of simulated hands following it a millisecond after, right along your bare and barer sides, sending waves of anticipation down the inside of your thighs. In an instant, two very corporeal, long fingers were back between your folds, knuckle deep into your seeping core, and Alastor chuckled lowly at your surprised whine, the smug and devious purr rumbling in his chest as he took note of every twitch your body made to the tune of his strokes. "But I think it's about time to return the favor though, don't you agree?"

Still stroking that sweet spot inside of you with his fingers, the hand that held your puppet glowed in bright green, and in between your moans and pants your wide eyes can't tear themselves from the strange symbols that appear around it, swirling and sparkling. You've seen Alastor perform magic countless of times, have watched and marveled at every spell he cast and his flair for the dramatic was only matched by the elegance of his every motion. But this? This was something else. The nonchalance with which his fingers pumped in and out of you, working meticulously, tactically, teasing you and working you into a mess with such a proficiency while he traced symbols with his free hand and the script, the raw power of it, the surge you could feel radiating from him, all that and his unflinching composure drove you mad with both desire and fascination.

The light and the symbols faded, and in his hands - the puppet, similar yet not quite. It felt off, almost lifelike, the fabric more skin-like, and with a gasp, you saw..

"Let me now see, if my own little contribution can be counted as an improvement, my little witch."

If someone asked you later on what had actually happened, you couldn't have said a single word - it was too salacious, too outrageous, too much outside of what you had ever expected from Alastor. How could you ever recount the way he pulled his throbbing cock out with his free hand - thick, dripping with precum and inhumanly beautiful. How his fingers were guiding your tiny copy to align with its tip, while he never left your eyes, smile almost manic.

He made holes. And seconds later, when he slowly pushed the doll onto his length, with his fingers still buried deep inside you, you knew that they worked. Oh, and how they worked.

"Oh m-my... god..."

It was heaven and hell. Bliss and torture, the feeling abhorrently delicious. The magical connection allowed every ridge, vein and vibration of his cock to transfer perfectly through the dolls body to you, making you shudder and keen at the intensity, the sheer tightness, and simultaneously Alastor groaned - a broken, rugged sound, loud enough to make you glance up with misty eyes from your debauched position. Your insides clenched hard around his fingers and the ghost of his cock, your toes curling as you whimpered, a picture perfect representation of how utterly sinful he looked with his dark lashes resting on his red cheeks, eyes shut and the mouth agape as his chest was rising and falling, breaths coming hard and labored.

He noticed your raptured gaze, looking down at you through hooded eyes, his smile positively obscene.

"Mh, I like the way you pray on me instead of one of your silly deities, darling. But you can call me Alastor."

And oh, how it felt, when his hand closed tightly around the little voodoo doll that was stuffed so full of him. You arched your back and writhed against the firm hold the tentacles had on you, pressing your knees against the pillows as he pulled his drenched fingers out of you, bringing them up to his face to lick them clean. He groaned at the taste, closing his eyes and making an effort to concentrate, his control crumbling in tiny pebbles around you, and his hips started to snap, sheathing the miniature you further on his cock, thrusting in increasingly fast paced movements. A string of whimpers escaped you, his name spilling throughout them like a mantra, as you were unable to do much more but twitch, shake and tremble as his ministrations came faster, harder, and Alastor let his head fall back, baring his neck and swallowing.

"You're so-" He groaned, squeezing your dolls body, forcing it closer against him and sliding it off and back on at an excruciatingly slow pace, your moans climbing and escalating with every inch that moved through the magic veil and in and around your sopping center. "-goddamn perfect, perfectly made for me." Your body didn't know how to react anymore, you stuttered incoherently, everything full with his praise, with this cock that wasn't there but was, the heat that shouldn't have been possible to fill you but did. You felt every bit of skin and fur and sweat and the realization only dawned on you when it was already too late: That you were about to come harder than you ever did, and that Alastor was losing his mind just from watching your reactions to his assault on your doll.

"S-So tight and needy. What a perfect... little... toy you are." If they were meant for you below him or the doll in his hands - you didn't know. But the panted words and almost dirty, explicit praise spilled from his lips in a flurry, every syllable seemed strangely calculated, aimed like a dart straight into you and tearing down all defenses as your pussy twitched helplessly around the sensation of being stretched and fucked open on the image of his cock. When he chuckled and sank your doll to the base, grinding your little figure against him so the head of his cock poked and prodded you where it had never reached before, you all but screamed his name as you came, and your pathetic cries pulled a harsh string of groans and grunts out of the demon towering over you, his breathless cursing and rambled obscenities underlined by the vicious snaps of his hips as he used your simulacrum like a glorified sex toy. His nails pierced the outer layer of the doll as your walls constricted and contracted around the thick nothing as he finished you and himself off into the realm of oblivion.

Everything went white for a moment and when your senses returned, Alastor was carefully cradling you into his arms, the little replica sitting next to his own on your bedside table, their heads almost tenderly leaning on each other. He was gently raking his claws through your damp, disheveled hair, placing little kisses down the back of your neck and on the thin skin behind your ears as he mumbled silent praises against your skin. He kissed along your jaw, gentle as anything, a soft thumb grazing along your lips, cheeks and your temple as he traced the lines of your features until he found the pulse on your neck. The cold touch of his lips was a nice contrast to the hot breath, and you moaned softly at his affectionate gesture.

"It's never a disappointment with you, love, quite the contrary." He hummed, scraping his sharp teeth almost teasingly along the crook of your neck before kissing it, covering your skin with static electricity. "What a marvelous surprise you prepared for me, my dear, truly magical." His lips pressed into yours in a rare kiss, and you leaned back into his naked embrace and smiled, the giddy feeling of accomplishment spreading in your belly and mixing in beautifully with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"I'm glad... you liked it."

"Oh, that is hardly the phrase I would use," Alastor chuckled as he pulled back, making you blush as his red iris glowed dangerously. "But you, my dear, will have a little work to do, seeing as I'm positively spoiled after this gift. You have no idea of the things I'm thinking about, all the possibilities of what we can accomplish if we put both our minds – and magic - to it."

Alastor pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing his chin and cheeks across your scalp and shoulders, coating you with a generous amount of his scent as if to mark you before pulling the blankets up and covering the two of you as his arms locked around you possessively, letting you settle against his chest as he hummed a melody you didn't know. But you knew him well enough to know that it was a clear sign of him being absolutely pleased and content.

You smiled, his good mood infectious, and as you glanced to the two dolls that sat together like a matching pair, stripped of their clothes and as close together as you and the real demon were now under the sheets, it made you feel like the cat that ate the canary. The cat had been fed by Alastor, sure. But he had also had his fill and then some, and really... that was all that mattered to you.

[softtdaisy]

you'll be fine / Spencer Reid

summary. you don't like to hear about the case. but when your boyfriend gets hurt, you realize you can't escape the reality of his work

words count. 2 283

what to expect. very angsty, reader is hotch sister, jack is here, brief mention of haley's death, did i say angst? but spencer being soft and lovely (as usual)

a/n. i'm finally back with writing for my baby Spence. and yes reader is hotch's sister for some reasons that i can't explain except that i like this man

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

The deal was simple: you didn’t want to hear about any cases except if Aaron or Spencer were in danger.

Aaron respected it easily. He needed these moments where he put the work away and thought about something else. Plus, he didn’t want to burden his little sister with the cases. To him, he did enough harm to his family. He didn’t want to put you in danger or drown you in the atrocity of the world he was living in. 

So anytime he got to see you, for a coffee, a diner, or ten minutes when you gave him Jack back after the babysitting, he made sure to never tell you about the case.

Spencer, on the contrary, had some difficulties keeping everything to himself. You knew your boyfriend so well, you could tell when he needed to speak. There was something cute in the way he tried so hard to keep his mouth shut because he knew you didn’t want to hear about the last cases. He was playing with his hands to focus his mind on something else, starting sentences but never finishing them. Maybe you liked torturing him a little.

But these moments always ended up the same way.

“Go ahead, my love,” you said, cupping his face in your hand and giving the sweetest kiss on his nose. You loved how he wrinkled his nose and how his cheeks were turning a sweet shade of red. “Tell me about the case.” 

And as soon as you said these five wonderful words, he let his mind speak for minutes. Or hours. It depended on how long he was away or how hard the case was for him.

Today was what you called a normal day. 

The team wasn’t away for a case. Aaron would come and pick up Jack at your place in a few minutes. You loved spending these Wednesday afternoons with your nephew. None of you had classes. Well, one of you had homework, and it was clearly not the blonde head laying on your couch. But your typical evening was to do them once Jack had left with his dad and while Spencer was cooking dinner. 

But you could tell something was wrong when 7 p.m. struck and you still had no news from Aaron. He would always send you a text, either to tell you he left the office or he would be late. He was a punctual man.

“Auntie, Dad’s calling!” you heard Jack scream from the living room. You were stuck in the kitchen, cleaning the baking pan you used for his chocolate cake. So you let Jack answer the call. For the few seconds it lasted, you appreciated his sweet and happy voice he always had when talking to Aaron.

But before you noticed the silence, he was by your side. “Dad wants to talk to you,” he said with a frown. Clearly not happy to not be the center of interest. 

“Put him on speaker, Jack, please,” you asked and were immediately faced with another silence. One you didn’t like. You could hear the background where Aaron was, but your brother’s voice.

“Hi, big brother,” you said with a laugh. “Want to talk to your favorite family member?” which, of course, made Jack pout. “After your wonderful son, of course.”

But then again, silence. For three, five, or ten seconds. “Could you please take the phone? I need to talk to you privately,” was all you got. No hello, no laugh, nothing. Just a cold and serious Aaron. And you hated that. 

You quickly wiped your hands, kissed Jack on the hair, and told him to watch another episode of his TV show before going to your room. “Where are you? Are you ok?” you asked the second you closed your bedroom’s door.

“I’m good,” was all he replied. You sighed with relief. You didn’t have the heart to tell Jack his father was in the hospital or worse. This kid had lived through too many tragedies already. But then it hit you. 

If Aaron was fine, it meant that he called you for another reason.

For another person.

“Spence?” you simply said in a low voice. Ironically, you spoke more quietly than when you asked for Aaron. When it would have been worse for Jack to hear about his dad. But it was like your heart couldn’t handle the idea of your boyfriend being hurt. Like, maybe, talking quietly would make the reality disappear. 

Aaron knew how to deal with words. You’ve always been impressed by how he managed to do the perfect sentences to make his speech memorable. So his silence was frightening. “Aaron, please,” you begged him.

“He’s at the hospital.” At least your bed was close enough so you didn’t fall on the floor. “Jessica is coming to take Jack with her so you can come.”

“What happened?” You heard yourself cry. But Aaron never answered your question. He gave you the hospital address. 

And you were left wondering if you still had a boyfriend anymore.

Everything you did until you got to the hospital felt unconscious. You couldn’t remember what you told Jack, if you took the time to kiss your nephew goodbye, if he saw you crying, or if you hid it. Nothing felt real.

Until you saw the team waiting in the hospital hall. Then you knew things were serious. You noticed the red eyes, the tiredness, the stress on all their faces. On your brother too, even if he did everything to stay strong and stoic.

When Aaron saw you, he stopped his conversation immediately and walked fast to hug you. You lost yourself in his arms, crying harder than you did at home and even more when he hugged you more and more tightly. Back when you were a child, Aaron was always the one comforting you. After a nightmare, a bad day at school or at home, even when he was away for college. He was your emergency contact, something that never changed. He was your emergency person.

Yet, something felt off this time.

“What happened?” you asked again, looking up at him. And you were right about something being off. You barely ever see guilt on your brother’s face. You did after Haley. It was the only time you saw him feel bad about something. And seeing it today wasn’t a reassuring thing.

“The unsub caught us off guard and tried to escape. It could have been anybody, but he shot Rei… Spencer two times in the arms, near his shoulder. No organs were touched, but he lost a lot of blood before he could be taken care of. He passed out at the crime scene. He’s still in surgery right now.”

Every word he spoke was like a stab going deeper and deeper in your heart. 

You didn’t realize you were screaming until Aaron muffled it against his chest and held you even more tightly against you. Knowing damn well that if he stopped, you would fall on the ground and not get up.

You couldn’t imagine a world in which Spencer Reid wasn’t a main part of.

He was your soulmate; you knew that from the moment you met him. 

You had just come back home after a year abroad, and Aaron had organized a dinner at his place with the team to celebrate it. He wanted you to meet his other family, the one he was sadly closer to than yours. But you didn’t mind, as long as your brother was happy and well looked after. And you were curious to meet all these people he talked about on the phone.

Honestly, you kind of fell for every single one of them.

But you fell harder for the genius in the back. The one that acted shyly around you until you showed interest in what he was saying. You quickly realized you could get used to listening to Spencer talking and falling asleep to his voice. And you did.

There were still so many things Spencer had to tell you about; he couldn’t leave you already.

The hours waiting for him were the longest you ever lived. The surgery went well; Spencer would be fine. But you needed to hear him wake up and see him to be sure they were telling the truth. 

The team left one by one, at your own request. Sure, JJ needed to see her kids. Emily and Derek were drained from the day and the stress. Only Aaron stayed with you. He called Jack two times in the evening, one to check on him and one to say goodbye. But he refused to leave his little sister alone.

It was almost midnight when your boyfriend finally opened his eyes.

Aaron let you go. He was just waiting with you, to not leave you alone. He simply asked you to give him some news and to call if you ever want to sleep at home.

But you noticed how he showed his FBI sign to the hospital staff to make sure you would be able to sleep here with Spencer.

He looked so fragile in his hospital bed. With his skin paler than ever, his tired eyes barely open and his greasy hair flattened. You even wondered if you should be there or if you should let him rest in peace. Because you knew that Spencer would do anything to reassure you, even if it was tiring him.

Then he looked up to see you.

And the relief in his eyes was the best argument to stay. 

“You’re here,” he said with a hoarse and lazy voice that almost made you cry. Because it didn’t sound like your Spencer. But your Spencer was alive. You walked slowly to him and grabbed the hand that he was offering. 

“I’m the one who should say that.” Once sat, you put your head on his stomach slowly to make sure you didn’t hurt him. Spencer didn’t show any sign of hurt or discomfort.

But in all honesty, even if he was, he would never. Spencer grew soft to your contact. He was craving it when he was away. You were the only person that could hold him without warning him. It was natural. Like his body has only been created to be held in your arms. To be touched by your hands. To be loved by you.

“Do you know the statistics of getting shot two times at the same place?” he asked, brushing your hair softly. You looked up with a confused face. And faced his amused expression. “I'm being serious.” 

He then started to give you many numbers and statistics around these facts. Which you didn’t even want to hear about. You almost lost him to this. It wasn’t a very pleasant subject.

But seeing the sparks in his eyes when he said these facts, proving he was still the very same genius that left your apartment this morning to go to work, was refreshing. He almost never came home. But he will. And you could let him say and talk for hours if it means having him by your side forever.

“So it’s pretty rare,” he finished, proudly. 

You noticed how he could barely keep his eyes open. You took the hand that was in your hair and gave it a little kiss. “Could you consider staying rare by just being the amazing person you are and not playing with death, please?”

He laughed, his giggle causing a little quake on your resting head. “Yeah, I could consider that.” 

Spencer then moved a little, enough for you to lay by his side. You couldn’t stay like that all night. But if it helped him fall asleep, you could sacrifice your comfort for a few minutes. Even hours, if he needed it.

You were a little higher on the bed so he could be the one resting on you this time, and you would be the one playing with his hair.

“How was your day with Jack, by the way?”

And you started to tell him, like it was a normal day. 

Spencer was always the one to fall asleep last. You created this routine of him telling you about his day, a case, or just something he read or saw, in bed while you were falling asleep in his arms.

This time, Spencer was the one falling asleep to your story. 

And selfishly, you hoped it would be the only time. 

[giamee]

✦ ⠂⠂୨୧ DO YOU WANT SOMEBODY LIKE I WANT SOMEBODY?

ಇ roommate!jing yuan, roommate!sampo, roommate!gepard x reader ︴wordcount :: 1.7k ︴contains :: nothing crazy, sampo with tattoos, in gepard's part reader drinks wine like a White Woman TM ︴part one ︴requested by @elsy34 @sydneyy-l @fairiesdobesparklin @w9vyy

ఌ︎. | JING YUAN

you've quickly come to realise that your roommate is a workaholic

his punctuality, his strict regime of getting up at 6 and coming back at 6 seems to be the only constant in your life

the little mumbled apologies to inanimate objects as his too-large frame squeezes into your dingy shared bathroom causes you to roll over in your bed, a little smile growing at his sweet antics

then after about the 20 minutes it took him to shower and get ready, as well as fix himself - and you, you've noticed recently- breakfast before he's out the door as quietly as he can manage

then you're out of bed a bit after he leaves, yawning idly as you make your way out of your room, smiling fondly at the intricarely prepared fruit and yoghurt bowl that jing yuan had left you, along with a little smily face drawn on a post-it note

you eat it slowly, savouring the taste of it as you slowly wake up, before naking your way into the bathroom to freshen up

it's warm from the shower jing yuan had taken earlier, and the combination of his products and cologne that he had also sprayed almost envelopes you in a hug as you brush your teeth, your eyes noticing the little doodles left by the steam on the mirror

"out of milk" - :( is what jing yuan had decided to write this time, along with his attempt of a drawing of a milk carton

you giggle at the wonkiness of it, making a mental note to add it to the shopping list later

and you do your own little routine too, leaving a little later than him and coming back a little sooner on account of the fact that your job was a lot closer to your apartment than his was

and this next part- when the work day was over- was your most favourite part of the shared little routine that had been forged over the weeks you've spent living with jing yuan

you hear the key turn in the lock as your roommate lets himself in, a teasing "honey, i'm home" accompanying the slight shuffle of him taking off his coat and shoes

you cast him a wave from what you're doing tonight - this time, it's your turn to cook dinner - and you turn your attention back to the stove as you hear jing yuan pad over to you , peering over your shoulder and humming in approval at the choice of food

that brief closeness in proximity tantalised you with the same warmth and smells of his cologne that had been so comforting in the morning, and you felt some of your own stress melt away as you kept stirring the contents of the pan

and in this pseudo domesticity, you found comfort in your roommate, as he began to set the table for just the two of you

ఌ︎. | SAMPO

where to start with him omg

you don't know what to think when you first move in

he seems so scary with his hair and his tattoos and his cigarettes

but he's sweet, too, and his face lights up a little every time he manages to make you laugh

and hey, maybe he wouldn't be too bad as a roommate

after he figured out that you aren't a smoker yourself, he makes sure to always smoke either before he came back to your shared space, or out on the balcony far away from you

"those things will kill you, y'know"

your protest is lighthearted, and sampo smirks as he brings his lighter to the end of the cig dangling from his lips

"it's not like i'm gonna live forever"

it was the little things, after all

and little by little, your differing lifestyles began to integrate

you come to learn that sampo had a knack for remembering the details

you had been called to cover a coworker's shift at the last minute, one that would end a lot later than you're accustomed to

and since you took the bus to and from work, you were really not looking forward to taking it on the way back, when it would be pitch black outside with mostly drunkards to keep you company on it

and that dreadful thought had been put off for the time being

but with your shift drawing to a close, you stop your work momentarily to check what the buzz from your phone was

hey

i'm outside

come out when you're ready

-sampo

your eyebrows knitted together in confusion

you had told sampo when you would get off work, but you definitely hadn't asked him to pick you up after it had ended

but you were never one to turn down such an offer

you finished closing up, before leaving the building

you spotted a couple cars left parked on the side of the road, though all were empty with the headlights off

you clutched your phone, about to text sampo and ask exactly where he was l, before you heard a shout of your name from somewhere to your left that had you spinning on your heel

and you didn't know what to expect when sampo said he was here to pick you up, but it certainly wasn't this

you approached sampo, eyeing the motorbike that he was leaned against dubiously, mentally cursing yourself for assuming that he would drive a car, because of course sampo just had to do something more dangerous than that

sampo straightened up as you drew close, smiling and handing you a spare helmet, laughing at the uncertainty on your face

"if you hold on to me, you'll be fine, c'mon"

ఌ︎. | GEPARD (PT. 2)

it was hard to tell where you and gepard stood right now, ever since that night

on the one hand, you were still friendly around each other, and nothing had really changed behaviour-wise in either of you

yet on the other, your brain was constantly plaguing you with the memories of how his fingers had felt against your thighs, fingers in his hair and scratching at his scalp as he melted against you

it wasn't technically romantic, but it sure as hell had felt like it

and maybe it was just the wine that you had been drinking that night, but there's certain moments where you catch a certain hungered look in his eyes that makes you think that maybe, just maybe he was feeling the same inner turmoil that you were

but life goes on

work was getting busier for gepard, and much to your chagrin you were seeing less and less of him

maybe that was for the best, to give you the space and time to get over the silly little crush that you had on your roommate

"but you don't want to," that little pesky voice in the back of your head whispered to you

you shook your head a little violently to clear it, deciding that a distraction was in order

you had an unopened bottle of wine and a new series to binge screaming your name right now

and so you settle on your couch, putting on the show, letting yourself sigh into the cushions and welcoming the little headache that would ensue after you finish your first couple glasses

you noticed, with some amusement, that this was basically the position that you were in when gepard had laid on your thighs

these thoughts would be harder to avoid than you realise

you managed to immerse yourself into the show somewhat, too engrossed to hear the front door open, much like how it had happened that night

but your attention is transfixed to the screen, not to the sight of gepard as he walks in, yawning and practically making a beeline to where you sat on the couch

and then you realised he was there, when the cushions dipped underneath his weight, his arms thrown against the back of the sofa, one resting behind you

there's a pang of ... disappointment? that you feel when you realise that he hadn't sat in front of you once again, but you push that aside, scanning your roommate's face ij concern

he looks paler than usual, deep eyebags underneath his dulled eyes, and a glance at the time has you double taking as you see that it's past eleven

"your overtime pay must be through the roof," you try to joke, and you get the feeling that the half smile gepard responds with is the most that he can muster right now

and again, like there is some other being urging you to do so, you find yourself acting without thinking about consequences or what it might imply

"do you want a massage?"

gepard doesn't even have the energy to look surprised, merely nodding

you motion for him to lie flat on the couch, and he does so a little too quickly, not giving your tipsy self enough time to stand up before his head falls onto your thighs

oh, you think

he looks really pretty like this

his feet are dangling a little off the end due to his too-tall stature meeting the too-small couch, but you do your best to make him otherwise comfortable

he's on his front, arms now snaking their way around your hips and legs like he's done this so many tines before, and you could have sworn that the man even nuzzled his cheek against your soft skin before lying still

your hands hover for a second, unsure of how exactly to start and not expecting it to even get this far, butterflies in your stomach be damned

your fingers gingerly meet the junction where his neck joins his shoulder, immediately prodding a knot of tension

you do your best to rub circles into his skin, feeling out the muscle underneath to target

you were no professional, but the way that gepard was sighing contentedly from your touch made you think that you were doing something right

it was a few minutes of this silence, his breaths beginnign to even as you wirked your way down his back, doing the best that you could over the material of his shirt stretched thin across his back

the slight loll of his head alerted you that he was asleep, along with the softest puffs of air from his mouth that blew against your thigh

you continued for a bit more, wanting to do your best to get the knots out, before you felt the tug of sleep at yourself as well

the rhythm of gepard's breathing was constant and soothing, and you dismissed the worries of what to do about you and him and this predicament tomorrow- when you both wake up on the couch

gia's notes :: much anticipated continuation of the roommate hsr series yippeee ^_^ gepard is back 💯💯 also i only realised like... near the end of jing yuan's part that his ass is NOT a workaholic but... whats done is done ig 😔 shoutout to me not having played the 2.0 update yet,, or the game at all recently tbh ,,,

-‘๑’- honkai star rail masterlist

[octuscle]

From tutor to rookie of the year

Hi, my name is Jake. My company has hired me to tutor a few students with poor grades. That's not necessarily the reason why I started working at the auditing company. But first of all, I'm new here and I'm not going to refuse right at the beginning of my career. And secondly, becoming a teacher had actually been an option for me. Maybe it's fate now or something.

The first lesson gets off to a very promising start. I almost have to tear myself apart to leave your office and get to school on time. But when I arrive, there is a yawning emptiness in the classroom. Only after fifteen minutes I hear noise in the corridor and a couple of football jocks barge in the door. A few still in football gear. And all obviously unshowered after training. Phew, it stinks. And as I look into the handsome, square-cut faces of the boys spraying with testosterone, I'm suddenly back at school. The small, clever but shy boy who, at best, the stars of the football team overlook and, at worst, stuff into the toilet. I clear my throat and say that I'm not here for fun either and that I'm asking for some attention. The boys barely react. Damn it, it's not my problem. I explain a few linear algebra problems on the blackboard and ignore the paper airplanes. I have my school-leaving certificate. I have my master's degree. And my bonus doesn't depend on the grades of these idiots. At least I hope so.

After the debacle of the first tutoring session, my appetite for the second is very dampened. But it was already hard enough to get this internship. The firm is one of the most prestigious accountancy firms in the city. And if my pro bono job as an intern is tutoring the idiots on the football team twice a week, I'll survive. Apart from the 60 hours a week in which I have to pore over balance sheets, that doesn't matter any more.

These days, the musclemen are even on time. And somehow nicer than last time. They even ask me reasonably sensible questions like whether you can predict the trajectories of footballs. I take this as an opportunity to tell them something about vector calculus. They collapse with laughter. "Bro, I was joking. And football isn't math. Football is strength and speed." I'm about to take a breath and say something about Newton and the relationship between force and speed. But instead of listening to me, the jocks start bragging to each other about their heroic stories on the field. And I can't help but listen to them spellbound. When the lesson is over, I look after them with fascination. I wish I could have been more like them at school.

Shit, because I'm the only nerd on the senior team who isn't a complete failure at sports, Coach made me give math tutoring to the football team. He thinks the Meatheads might have a little bit of respect for me. Shit! Them for me? I for them might be more correct! The thought of explaining math to my secret crush forms a wet spot in my Calvin Klein shorts.

I expected the boys to keep me waiting. If they were also punctual and disciplined off the pitch, they wouldn't need any help. And I don't want to tutor them any more than they want to be tutored. We reach a compromise. You listen to my math tutoring for half an hour. And then we'll go out onto the pitch for half an hour and play a bit of football. God knows I'm not unsportsmanlike. But soccer has somehow never been my sport. I'm more of a swimming pool or gym kind of guy. Team sports? Not really.

Shit, yeah, I'm no rocket scientist in math. But I have quite good grades in English and history. I'm not going to fail this year. Why the fuck do I have to go to tutoring with the other bros from the football team? I have no idea. But seriously, the tutor is a total loser. A beanpole in a stuffy shirt. The idiot even wears a tie. Seriously, who wears a tie these days? If I had to wear a tie, I'd change jobs. Or if I had to shower after training. Shit, these are just rules that can come from old fat men. Bros like me and my bros smell like test… Testo… Well that hormone stuff. Sweat, musk and Axe. If I didn't have to go straight to detention again, I'd let the loser smell my armpits… But I'm a sophomore on the team right now. Let the juniors and seniors do that.

"Jack, bro!" This is Chuck. The QB on the team. I can tell by his voice. And by his smell. And I'd also know it by the taste of his cheesy boner…. But he stays locked in his jockstrap cage right now. What a damn shame! "Bro, where were you in tutoring? The dean was there. You're in fucking trouble!" Shit, tutoring! I was at the gym. The other guys are all so pumped. I don't want to lag behind any longer. "Shit, dude, we said you were in the bathroom. The loser tutor didn't dare contradict us. But I think you have to let him suck you off so he doesn't tell on you." Hehehehehe, I like that idea. There are still 40 minutes until football practice… And I haven't cum yet today. "Is the loser still in the classroom?" I ask. Chuck nods. I fist bump him and say that I'll sort it out quickly.

If Chuck and Matt go to college next year, I have a good chance to be the QB. But until then I still have to build up a lot of mass. Those two are just in a whole different league. And I'm damn jealous of the hair on Matt's chest. You should see the bush under his arms. Dude, the man is going to be a fucking gorilla! Shit, I'm not half the man those two are. You can tell immediately by the size of the bulge in our compression shorts. Nevertheless, neither of them mind if I fuck them. But they like fucking me even more. Without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

We skipped tutoring again today. Coch covers for us while we're in the gym or doing our laps on the cinder track outside. Nevertheless, it's still up in the air whether Chuck and Matt will be at college next year. And whether I'll be a junior by then. But screw it, NFL pros don't need to know math.

[yayll]

15!Dazai gives me cute aggression 😔😔 i wanna give him kisses and hug him allll the time and watch as his brain just blue screens because he isn’t to affectionate like that or the fact anyone wants to give him affection lime that anyway 💔

this is sooooooo true anon and you SHOULD say it

here at yayll we like to recognize the touch starved wet cat this man is and 15!Dazai not only is that but when faced with genuine affection has no other concept of what to do with it than to mimic it back to you in odd ways should he ever feel the same way. and if he does? it's over for you.

you gave him an unexpected hug? he'll try and give you one back, only for it to be unreasonablly tight and awkward, almost like he's trying to strangle you (he isn't, but he is.)

one day you patted him on the shoulder and he never felt such sweet validation that went beyond verbal acknowledgement... so to show you his appreciation, he patted you as well! on your head... like a dog...

my fav is when you both are clearly aware of each other's feelings and are a thing because then it turns up his cute aggression by a LOT. after that he just does things. he rolls his eyes and huffs like he's soooo annoyed and self sufficient but is secretly smiling to himself (he's so dramatic and needy) he also touches and overall invades your personal space WAYYY more now. it's still awkward and oddly interpreted! but it has purpose, it has heart, and it also has you wondering how could Dazai POSSIBLY get worse than what he already was?

"Okay, I really have to go and report now! I'll get chewed out if I miss another meeting."

he just tightens his grip on your wrist and swings it around like you're both skipping across a field and totally not at mafia headquarters. He smirks as he dismissively croons.

"... Awww, look who's so punctual. I'm an executive, they'll be fine with it. Besides! the timer's not up yet."

(yes he has a timer that you force him to set up when you both cuddle otherwise he will NOT let you go the entire day. BOUNDARIES OR WHATEVER.)

"Er, actually the timer went off 5 minutes ago... you just snoozed it."

He glares at you, and shrugs.

"Oh, that timer? I thought you meant the other one."

"What other one, Osamu?"

"Did you just say my name? Ugh, that's so formal and so uncalled for. I'm adding 5 more minutes to the timer~"

he's secretly blushing so hard every time you address him so casually and directly, he'll think abt it alllll day and night.

it seems you truly created a monster, or maybe you created a safe space for him to be one. either way, he's yours! <3

[topazadine]

How to Kick Ass at Worldbuilding

Worldbuilding. You either love it and spend all your time dreaming up rules rather than writing, or you hate it and try your best to avoid it despite writing fantasy or scifi.

Or you are in the middle, which is where you should be. You have a healthy appreciation for what makes worldbuilding so special, but you also don't obsess over it.

Worldbuilding does not need to be complicated to be effective, as I've harped on a few different times now. So how do you strike the right balance? Let's take a look.

As always, this is just my opinion based on my own efforts creating The Eirenic Verses. You can disagree and that is fine. However, I hope you'll consider thinking about what I offer here as you craft your own world.

A lot of what people focus on when worldbuilding is not what the audience cares about.

Very few people like to read a book littered with random terms they have to keep track of. We want to build a unique world, but we also don't want to throw such an extreme amount of lore at our readers that they tune out.

When worldbuilding, we want to consider the cognitive load on our audience. This is how much information the reader needs to remember throughout your story so that they can follow along.

Cognitive load includes things like:

Character names and appearances

Relationships between characters

Place names, such as cities and countries

Unique mythological creature or fauna

Backstory, including mythology and folklore

Language names

The general plot (who is the protag, who is the enemy, etc)

Magic usage (who has the power, how they acquire it, any conditions it comes with, etc)

Power dynamics between characters, countries, and so on

Political systems, if included

Even in the most barebones fantasy story, this is a lot to remember. As such, we need to consider what is most important for our readers to generally understand the plot and emphasize this, letting the rest serve as background information that is not quite as essential. The more emphasis we put on something, the more we direct a reader's attention.

At the same time, we want to create a world that feels lived-in and interesting so that readers want to know more. How do we do this?

Consider what you think about foreign countries in our world.

Most of us will have a general concept of a country but only will think about the specifics if it is currently relevant.

Let's take Japan for an example. (I'm a bit of a weeabo, okay?) Here is what I personally think about when I imagine Japan, in order of what I consider important.

Japanese cuisine (sushi, ramen, ochazuke, sake, lots of rice dishes, seafood)

What the people are like according to my own stereotypes/cultural perceptions (polite, quiet, respectful, hardworking, punctual)

Climate and geography (temperate, island country, volcanos, mountains, beaches)

Unique flora and fauna (cherry blossoms, flowers, Nara deer, giant salamanders, pretty birds)

General landmarks, but not necessarily specifics (castles, temples, busy cities, red bridges, torii gates)

Clothing styles (kimonos, school uniforms, business suits, kawaii fashion)

Cultural icons (samurai swords, samurai armor, Shinto shrines)

General overview of the history (samurai, daimyo, feudal system, bushido, Meiji restoration)

Language, but not necessarily specifics of the language (Japanese, kanji, hiragana)

Religion (Buddhism and Shintoism)

Folklore (ghosts, kami, tsukumogami, evil spirits)

Any festivals I might know of (cherry blossom festivals, moon viewings, Obon)

Your own list may have these in a slightly different order, but it's probably what you most think about.

Notice that you will likely not think about these things:

Political system

Specifics of the language

Interpersonal hierarchies

International relations

Specific landmarks

Specific historical events

Famous figures

So why do we think like this? Because in real life, we also have a cognitive load that we must balance with things that are more relevant to our everyday lives.

If I tried to memorize specific details of every country in the world, I would go insane. I have better things to do, so I create a general image of a country based on pictures I've seen, people I've met, food I've eaten, and so on. You do the same thing.

To be realistic, you do not need to be specific. You need to approach worldbuilding the same way people generate their world knowledge: basic concepts and visual imagery.

What to emphasize in worldbuilding

So let's break this down on what you want to think about when creating a world.

Food is one of the most accessible elements of a culture.

Food is how many people learn about different cultures for a simple reason: if you have the ingredients, you can cook food from anywhere. You don't need to be introduced to it by a native of that culture.

Plus, humans tend to like food. We kind of need it to exist.

Think about these things when considering national cuisines and eating habits of your fantasy world:

Do they have spicy food? Bland food? Heavy hearty dishes?

Is most food served hot or cold?

What kind of spices and vegetables do they use? Root vegetables, beans, cinnamon? Salt?

What type of meat do people eat (if any)? Seafood, poultry, beef, pork?

How is bread prepared? What is it made of? (Look, nearly every culture has some sort of bread, we love carbs)

What about pasta? Does that exist here?

Are desserts important? What are they made of?

What kinds of drinks do they have? Coffee, tea, milk, lemon water?

Is alcohol a thing? What kind of alcohol? How often do people drink? Are there bars?

How often do people eat, and when? Do they have the typical three square meals, or do people eat kinda whenever they feel like it?

Do people prepare food at home or are there restaurants?

Are communal dinners common?

Cultural stereotypes provide tension and can help craft your characters.

Are people in your culture known for their boldness? Their cunning? Their resilience? Their standoffishness? Their fiery tongues, or their passive-aggressive jabs?

You can play with a lot of this, either confirming or denying the assumptions through your characters.

Landscape gives us an idea of where we are and what to expect.

Landscapes are some of my favorite aspects of worldbuilding rather than intricate magic systems and political concepts. Readers get a good sense of environment when you focus in on landscape and how it impacts the characters. You can also build a culture off your landscape, such as how certain geographic features may influence peoples' attitudes and lifestyles.

For example, a coastal landscape will have beautiful views of the ocean, sparkling beaches, and maybe tall cliffs. Being a fisherman may be seen as an honorable but dangerous profession. People might cliff dive for fun.

Mountainous areas may produce cultural enclaves, especially in a fantasy setting where everyone is more isolated. One mountain town may have a completely different vibe than the town over.

Flat, wide-open plains mean people can spread out, but since moving from one place to another is easier, there may be a more cohesive culture.

An area with caves will have a sense of mystery and fear; there may be a lot of superstitions about the caves.

A swampy area can also be very mysterious as there are so many places to hide out and a lot of dangerous animals.

Climate influences how people behave.

Hot climates make people need to conserve energy, so they may take afternoon naps in the worst of the heat. They might value relaxation and calm over industry and productivity because bro, have you ever tried to even walk outside in the Florida heat? Shut up and get me air conditioning.

Cold climates make people need to stay active to stay warm, but they can also produce a sense of isolation. Think about how outdoorsy the Finnish are but how they looove their personal space.

Temperate climates are probably a bit more even-tempered, but as weather changes get more extreme, people will vary their behaviors based on the seasons: spending more time outdoors during summer but holing up during winter. The culture may emphasize hospitality because people need to rely on one another to survive, and they have time to meet their neighbors during the summer.

I am very partial to temperate climates, being from the American Midwest. We're known for being nice and hardy people. You should come visit.

Flora and fauna help the world feel real.

When I worldbuild, I often base my cultures on a real place and what kinds of animals or plants are there. For example, Breme is based on Mongolia so I have herbivores, big raptors, and a lot of grasses.

A warm climate will have lots of reptiles. Sea life will be important in a coastal area. Swamps might have big predators. Mountains will have hardy creatures that can climb. A savannah area will have huge herbivores and fast, hungry predators.

General cityscapes or villages are great for providing a sense of place.

Do people build low spread-out cities or tall rickety homes? What kinds of building materials do they use? Are there lots of markets, bars, apocetharies, temples or churches? What do homes look like here? What are any unique architectural features?

This gives a sense that we are in a different but specific world that has a rich culture.

Clothing tells us what people prioritize.

Cold places will have lots of layers. Hot places will have soft draping outfits or very skimpy outfits. Natural materials that are easily available will make up the majority of the clothing in a fantasy setting. You wouldn't have people wearing cotton in a place that doesn't grow cotton. If there are lots of sheep, people will wear wool. If there's lots of cattle, people will wear leather.

You can also think about adornment. Is jewelry common? What type? Why is it important? Is it a status symbol, a way to keep wealth, or perhaps ways to honor ancestors?

Cultural icons demonstrate what the society values.

A warlike culture will prioritize weaponry. A pacifist culture will think about art and music. A nomadic culture may have a rich oral tradition. An agrarian society will emphasize farming rituals.

Think of a few things that symbolize your society, whether that's musical instruments, weaponry, textiles, statues, or jewelry. Consider how those traditions could have come about and why.

Folklore and mythology offer an offbeat but important sense of history.

Folklore is often tied up with many other factors of a society, such as their religion, landscape, history, and overall values.

For example, the Japanese believe items survive for over a century gain a kami, or spiritual essence. This shows that the Japanese cherish their long history and their material culture, and it also infuses their Shinto belief into folklore.

You can also think about cryptids or ghost stories. Isolated and difficult terrain often makes people think of monsters lurking in the woods. Areas with lots of caves will have myths about what is down there. Coastal areas develop myths about ghost ships.

Idioms, turns of phrase, and gestural quirks tell us more about the culture without overwhelming readers.

This one can be more challenging (I haven't done much with it) but if you can manage it, you'll have a very rewarding story.

I'm not talking about making a whole new language here, but rather about idioms and turns of phrase. Think about all the fun idioms that English has, like "beating around the bush" or "break a leg." Without cultural context, you can't understand them, so you'll have to incorporate an explanation without actually stating it.

For example, you can have a character say "the horses are running fast" as they look out the window to see a sheet of rain. We can guess from this that the idiom is rain = horses, so lots of rain = fast horses. We'll understand from this that this culture probably loves horses; maybe they're a formerly nomadic race.

Gestures, like whether people give thumbs-up, point with their index, or bow with their hands to their chest all give us a feeling of the culture without being overwhelming.

What not to emphasize

Now that we've gone through some things to focus on, let's talk about what you don't need to make up for your world.

A whole-cloth language

Please, you don't need to create brand new words for things that exist in our world. You can reference a language, but do not make people memorize nouns they don't need.

Don't even make up the language at all. Say there's a language and then write the rest of it in English.

Made-up languages are irritating for readers because they want to focus on the characters and plot, not mysterious words they need to translate.

It's possible to make languages interesting without going into specifics. For example, the Bas-Lag trilogy by China Mieville has a species that communicates in clicks but the species can also learn human languages if necessary. There's a language called Salt that's basically the common tongue blended from everything else.

Do we need to know how Salt works? No. Doesn't matter. We're told someone is talking in Salt, or they're learning it, or they switch to it when meeting someone from a different culture. That's plenty.

Specifics of a magic system

You're not going to instantly summon up all the rules of magical realms when you visit a new country; you might not even know them. And your readers won't be too interested in them either.

For example, in The Eirenic Verses, I have High Poetry. Readers will come to know that this was a magical system where certain people given the power can recite a poem and whatever they speak comes true. Every poem can only be used once.

It was given by the goddess Poesy to a specific woman, Saint Luridalr. It was so successful that the goddess started giving it to more women and a whole religious system arose.

I don't need to explain exactly how it works because no one cares. Someone makes things happen by coming up with a poem: that's about it. We don't need to question whether certain rhyme schemes or meter or punctuation impacts anything. That's too technical.

If you've got pages and pages of notes on all the intricacies of the magical system, you have too much. Pare it down.

Political systems

Unless you're writing a fantasy where politics are absolutely critical to the plot, you can just reference the political system in passing and maybe elucidate a few key elements, like who the leader is, how power is transferred, etc. You don't need to go into all the specifics because most people are not going to care.

Hierarchies

Please don't lay out the entirety of an army's ranking system or how someone is promoted. Make up something consistent and stick with it, but don't go into exhaustive detail. People aren't going to sit and question whether a captain is above a lieutenant or how long it takes to become a general.

We'll know that a general is a big deal if the characters make it a big deal. We'll know who the head of the army is but we don't need to know how they got to that position.

Exact city layouts

You do not need to tell us where everything is in relation to one another. Tell us characters are moving from one landmark to another. You could say "this is across a bridge, this is up in the mountains, these buildings are right next to one another, these two buildings are in opposite ends of the city." That's plenty.

If somewhere is very far away, just show them travelling there and how long it takes. You don't need to measure it in miles or leagues or whatever. We will guess that if it takes them a week to walk there, it's pretty distant.

Economic systems

We just need the basics here: mercantile, capitalist, bartering, etc. We don't need to know if the coinage is pegged to a certain precious metal or if people invest their money or how people are paid. That's boring.

In my world, I have two currencies: quillim for Breme and barnals for Sina. What's the exchange rate? I don't know and don't care. How much is one quillim worth? One quillim is not a lot but 2,500 quillim is. How much is the average person paid? Doesn't matter. Do people keep lots of coins on them? No one is asking that. It's not important.

Transit systems

Tells us if the roads are cramped, spread out, nonexistent, poorly maintained. Tell us if there are road blocks or toll booths. Tell us if there are roving bandits. The more physical and sensory you can get, the more real it feels.

Few people care about the specifics of even their own transportation system. I know highways are fast, I know tollroads are expensive, I know parkways are pretty, I know some cities have weird turnabouts and dead ends. That's exactly what I need and what I care about.

That's what I've got for you today. If you liked this, maybe you'll consider checking out The Eirenic Verses series, which follows most of these principles.

I've been told that my fantasy writing is very approachable, even for those who don't usually like fantasy, specifically because I don't get too insane with my worldbuilding. So maybe you'll enjoy it too!

[hsyvers]

I WANT SOME (OF YOUR LOVE) - spiderwoman!h.yj x f!reader

SYPNOSIS; yunjin being late to band practice is slowly becoming a habit...and you think you know why. yunjin also has a habit of blushing around you, and you definitely know why.

NOTES; 1.9k. it's all fluff <3 i watched across the spiderverse and had to...lsrfm is a rock band 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 yunjin being a terrible liar and chaewon being done w her bs 😭 there's a little bit of swearing

"shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

yunjin is late to band practice. again.

which, in theory, should be fine. punctuality was important to her but, hey, in the life of spiderwoman, there had to be sacrifices, right?

"jen, where are you?"

delivered 5 minutes ago. she'll arrive in another 5. shit.

"jm almost theref i orimkse!;" 🗣🧍‍♀️✈"

you stare at your phone with narrowed eyes, your brain trying to process and translate the foreign language.

"hey," you hear chaewon, the leader of your band, call you, "have any idea where your girlfriend is?" she teases, though you can sense a little bit of frustration from her part, which was understandable, knowing that yunjin was her friend too.

"girlfriend!?"

"girlfriend?"

"girlfriend!"

the other three shout simultaneously. eunchae's eyes are sparkling, kazuha's mouth is open in an "O" shape, and sakura looks like she's about to interrogate you on when, why, how, and where this happened.

you throw off the others with a wave of your hand, offering the leader an apologetic smile, tapping your drumsticks on your lap, "ignoring the "girlfriend" part because she isn't, but she did say she'd be here soon."

chaewon merely gives an unconvinced hum, inspecting her microphone while kazuha tunes her bass guitar, eunchae tests her keyboard, and sakura practices rifts on her electric guitar. you tap your drumsticks on the cymbal a little nervously.

"i'm here!" a loud voice announces, as huh yunjin finally runs in, her hair looking messed up, her clothes ruffled, and her own electric guitar lugging along with her on one shoulder. chaewon purses her lips at the scene, but you simply leap from your chair and towards yunjin.

the taller girl closes her eyes and braces for a lecture, but all she feels is gentle hands weaving through her hair. she opens her eyes and looks into yours. you don't look mad...?

"huh yunjin," you whisper.

"hm?" she hums dazedly, her cheeks turning a warm pink when your hands move to pat at her wrinkled clothes.

"what's your excuse this time?" sakura chimes instead, stealing your question from you. at this, yunjin smiles sheepishly, sneaking a glance at you for advice on how to approach this, but all you give her is a slight nod. she sighs.

"i actually have a very good excuse for this and, well....i-"

"she was picking something up for me," you answer for her, with your back still facing the rest of the band. yunjin looks at you, failing to hide her relieved expression, and you shake your head at her before turning around and having a staring contest with chaewon.

the leader sighs and gestures for the both of you to get on stage, "just don't make a habit of it, please, that was the third time this week, jen."

"yes ma'am," the blond electric guitarist nods with a grin, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and running to the stage before you could reprimand her.

you huff, rubbing your cheek, and you make your way back to your drums, deciding to talk to her privately about it later.

you take no notice of how hot your cheeks felt, and you certainly pretend that you're unaware of yunjin's stares.

"I can't keep covering for you, yunjin," you mumble, patting gently at the cut on her cheek. she lets out a pained whine as you do so, but you don't let up.

yunjin doesn't say anything at first, not when you're in such a...compromising position.

'is this on purpose?' she thinks, because between you straddling her lap and treating her stinging wounds, it's either the pain or how horredously down bad she is that's making her this dizzy.

and your face was terribly close. she swallows, not making direct eye contact with you.

"hey," your lips curl into a small smirk, and yunjin makes the mistake of looking up. her cheeks immediately color when her gaze locks with yours, "you've been uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal with me today."

you bandage her cheek carefully, then moving on to the small gash on her stomach.

"may I?"

her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she lifts up her own shirt for you, and you roll your eyes playfully at how dramatic she's being. you feel her squeeze your arm when you disinfect it, with you biting your lower lip in concentration.

"is this really necessary?" she finally gathers the courage to ask, and she gestures to you sitting on her lap as though it wasn't your first time.

"why?" you whisper, finishing up the first-aid, the tip of your nose touching hers, "does it bother you, spiderwoman?

and yunjin tries. she tries her absolute hardest not to give in, because she wonders if this was all a game to you. she wonders if yesterday night had happened at all.

yunjin doesn't know why you're so calm when she had just saved your life.

she had thought that after the shock of almost being burgled, you'd be shaking like every other person would be. but instead, here you were, sitting on the edge of your fire escape, offering her half your sandwich.

she's hanging upside down, her mask only lifted high enough for her lips to be visible as she quietly accepts the food after you refused to take back your offer.

"can i ask you a question?"

yunjin nods slowly, "go ahead."

"are you always this caring towards the people you save?"

she's caught off-guard by the question and grateful that the mask was hiding her flustered expression.

"...i don't know what you mean."

you raise an eyebrow, a shit-eating grin on your face, though it did look a little strange for her from this angle, "really? well, do you bring every single one of them home? and stay a while? do you somehow know all their addresses? are you secretly a stalker?"

yunjin rolls her eyes underneath her mask, but her heart is racing. were you implying that you knew it was her?

knowing she wasn't sure of what to say, you lean closer to her masked face, and yunjin swears that she hears your breathing get slightly shaky.

"jennifer," you whisper, relishing in the way she tenses up visibly, "you know you're terrible at hiding things and how you're feeling, right?"

the last bit of sandwich she has in her hand drops, and she catches it with her web and a small yelp, making you giggle. her jaw hangs open and she racks her head, thinking how she could save this.

but, she knows, if there is any chance of anyone ever knowing about her secret, it would be you.

"how did you know?" she manages to say, her lips pursing.

"let's just say you're pretty obvious," you say, "at least, to me. and in more than one way."

"your voice, your mannerisms, and the subtle hints..."

yunjin finds herself staring at your lips. 'oh my god,' she thinks, mentally facepalming, 'is this really the best time to be dreaming about kissing her, huh yunjin?'

"wait, what?" oh. how articulate.

you let out a soft laugh at her dumbfounded tone, and she finds herself moving closer, and closer.

"if you already know who i am," you can feel her warm breath on your lips, "and you know how i feel, then, what are you going to do about it?"

"i can think of something," you say, staring at her lips, and she finally closes the gap, her lips hesitantly brushing against yours, before you cup her cheeks with your hands and you pull her close.

god, an upside down kiss. she could literally die happy now.

she could hardly register what's happening before you pull away. her lips chase yours, but you only giggle before gently pulling her mask off. there she is, the person who's been plaguing your daydreams.

"wanna come in and talk?"

"...more kisses?"

"mhm, if we talk."

"deal."

unfortunately, your roommate had called from inside, and she immediately pulls her mask back on. you're just about to apologise, but she shakes her head.

"tomorrow?" she asks, hopefully.

you pull her mask down again, just enough to give her one last kiss. she's almost afraid the web that's holding her up will break from how weak every part of her is feeling right now.

"tomorrow."

well, tomorrow was here. and fuck, she wants to kiss you again.

"wait," yunjin presses her index finger to your lips, "you promised we'd talk."

"right," you smile, opting for a kiss on her forehead instead, and she can feel the gears in her head screeching at this point, "sorry, you just look extremely kissable."

yunjin's hands settle hesitantly on your hips while your arms wrap around her neck, "what do you wanna talk about?"

"first of all," yunjin tilts her head, "what are we?"

"whatever you want," you tease, making her pout, to which you giggle, "okay, okay."

"jennifer huh," you say in a more serious voice, somehow making her posture straighten. you lean your forehead on hers, your voice laced with lovesick undertones that makes her heart melt, "i want to be your girlfriend."

yunjin can't stop herself from grinning.

"again."

"what?" you pull back a little to see her entire face. she looks happy. you love when she's happy.

"say it again," yunjin whispers breathlessly, her hand reaching up to cup the side of your face, her thumb brushing against your lips, "please."

"huh yunijn," your head feels fuzzy, but you nod as you humour her, shivering when her other hand starts playing with the hem of your shirt, "i want to be your girlfriend. that is, if you wa-"

she doesn't allow you to finish her sentence before she presses her lips to yours, making a surprised sound leave your throat. your hands tangle in her hair, and when you pull a little, you feel giddy when she whines softly.

this time, she pulls away first, but you don't chase her lips. you don't have to, anyway.

yunjin clears her throat, her blush getting redder as she gives a indifferent shrug, "sure, sure. yeah, that sounds good."

you scoff, slapping her shoulder playfully.

"okay! okay, i'm sorry, babe," yunjin pouts, and it's honestly terrifying how much of an effect she has on you already.

also. woah. babe. you're mentally giggling and kicking your feet at this point. not that you're ever gonna let her know.

"i want to be your girlfriend too," she kisses your cheek, "but, you do know what comes along with being spiderwoman's girlfriend, don't you?"

"enlighten me!"

"i mean, i'm somehow always in trouble, which means you could get into trouble, and it can and will be dangerous, and oh god, i wonder if we should even-"

"nuh uh," you interrupt, using your hand to cover her mouth.

her eyebrows furrow as she lets out muffled complaints, and you tsk at her, "you've already saved me once, jen. i'd trust you with my life. i've got your back and you have mine."

yunjin takes your hand off her mouth and she sighs in defeat, nodding, "you're right."

"aren't i always?" you question in faux offense and she snorts in return, looking at you with so much fondness that it made your heart ache.

she nuzzles her face into your neck and pulls you closer, "it means a lot, you know."

"i know."

"babe, please tell me you're almost here 🧍‍♀️"

you stand outside your home, weaving your hand through your hair, waiting for her reply. you look away from your phone and up at the sky, the blue appearing especially pretty today. then, suddenly, you see a small, dark-suited figure flying through the same sky.

you think you're hallucinating until you see the mask up close, and your eyes widen comically when your girlfriend swoops by and picks you up smoothly by your waist with one arm, her other one preoccupied with webbing. other than the deafening whistle of the air as you shot up, you hear her breathless, excited voice, "hi, babe!"

"y-yunjin!" you yelp when your legs almost land on top of a random car in traffic, "this is not what i meant by picking me up for practice!"

spiderwoman only laughs, fleeting and free, amd your breath hitches in your throat.

ah, fuck.

you bury your face in her neck, focusing on how warm and secure her arm felt around your waist instead.

"you owe me for putting me through this!"

"aw, come on! now, be honest, would you give this ride a 5 star rating?"

"yunjin!"

[the-oblivious-writer]

Touch Tank

Tara Carpenter x Reader

One-shot

Summary: Tensions are high when you go over to the Carpenters' apartment after telling Tara you would fix their sink; Sam isn't exactly what you would call your 'biggest fan'

Warning(s): Swearing, Tara & R aren't together, & no pronouns used

Notes: Another work based off of Gilmore Girls! Currently re-watching it and I'm slowly inching towards s3 ep 19... I'm avoiding it like the plague (I wanna stay in literali bliss just a lil longer 😔)

4/7 for Seven Days of Christmas

You made the mistake of agreeing to fix Tara’s sink.

Somehow Tara roped you into agreeing. Plumbers were expensive, and with paying rent in New York while also paying for college, they were already on a tight budget. You offered them a cheaper price, and you honestly didn’t mind giving Tara a favor.

That was before you remembered Sam would be there too.

You have known Tara all of five months, and in that time you haven’t exactly left the best impression on her older sister. Sam has already caught you sneaking in ten times—you got lucky every other time—and it didn’t help that you had an attitude. 

Tara wanted nothing more than for Sam to get to know you—to not just go off the you she made up in her head. So, when Sam found out you would be coming to fix their kitchen sink… she figured it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to give you another shot. Besides, she was doing this for Tara. She wasn’t sure as to why Tara was so persistent on it, but all she knows is that Tara wants you and her to get along. 

—

You walk up the stairs to the shared apartment after getting buzzed in by Tara. Once you get to the door you knock and the door opens.

“Hey,” Tara greets.

“Hey back,” you reply. Tara moves to the side, letting you in. Once you’re inside you look at Tara once again before smiling to yourself.

“You’re very punctual,” she remarked—watching as your eyes wandered.

“Yeah, well, it was either this or more apartment hunting with Danny.”

“You’re moving?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Don’t really get the point—the apartment’s fine. He says there’s ‘interior damage’ or whatever. Nothing I can’t fix.”

“Who knows; a new place could be nice.”

“I guess. He’s kinda eyeing the vacant apartment that’s not too far from yours.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… not saying it’s a sure thing but if we do move, can you promise you won’t get sick of me?”

“Sick of that face? Never…” She gently pinched your cheek teasingly; heat rushed to your face. 

“Did you change your hair?” You asked suddenly, changing the subject.

“What?”

“Your hair looks…different.”

“So segway’s not your thing, huh?” 

“Is it?” 

“Uh, no. I wear it like this a lot. Why?”

“Just…” You shrug, “Different.”

“Oh. Bad ‘different’?” She tugged on the hem of her shirt, suddenly feeling nervous for some reason. 

You smirk, about to answer her question, but turn your head when you hear a noise coming from down the hall. It sounded like Sam yelling a curse before Tara looked back at you with a light chuckle.

“The sink hasn’t been putting her in the best mood,” she elaborates. 

“She’s usually in a good mood?” You quip with raised eyebrows, tone laced in sarcasm. Tara scolds you with a look, causing you to back down. “Alright, alright.” 

“This fucking sink is driving me insane–” Sam cuts herself off, stopping in her tracks when she sees you. 

“Oh. Y/N. You’re here,” she says and you simply nod at her words. “Refreshing to see you use the front door for once…” She murmurs but you and Tara hear it. Tara scolds her with the same look she gave you just moments before. 

“If you want there’s Dr. Pepper in the kitchen,” Sam reluctantly offered. You looked at Tara then at Sam before briefly nodding. 

After a few seconds of silence, Sam clears her throat. “Okay, well, everything’s in the kitchen if you want to get started. The toolbox, and gloves are all there. If you need anything else just call one of us.” 

Tara looks between you and Sam before speaking up, “Come on, I’ll show you.” She extends her hand, gesturing to the direction of the kitchen. You begin to walk in that direction but before Tara follows behind, she gives Sam a look.

“I’m trying,” Sam huffed. 

“Well keep it up pleasee,” Tara requested as she walked away to the kitchen. 

By the time she was there, you were already setting up. “Question,” She states.

“Yes?” You put the pair of gloves in your back pocket, looking over at Tara.

“You come over. You seem to have a very firm grasp of the English language. You put together several full sentences—even using a couple of words that contain two or more syllables. And then my sister appears, and suddenly we need a thought bubble over your head to understand what you’re thinking. Can you tell me why that is?”

You looked down at the four-way silicone key in your hand before looking at Tara again with a  response. “The verbal thing comes and goes.” 

Tara sighed, lightly rolling her eyes. “I would really appreciate it if you would try to get along with my sister.”

“I took the Dr. Pepper,” you stated as a matter of factly. 

She furrowed her eyebrows, “I know.”

“Personally, I think it’s a little crazy to put lemon in Dr. Pepper—buuuut I took it anyhow.” You reached for the bucket and rag as you heard Tara huff.

“Stop it.”

“Ooo, stern face,” you say as you lift the tool and bucket to place by the sink. Tara continues, following you as you crouched down by the sink.

“Look. I went out on a limb for you, trying to get my sister to give you the benefit of the doubt. Okay? So, I don’t think it would hurt you to try to be nice.”

You put down the wrench you had just picked up, now fully turned and standing to look at Tara as you spoke. “Why?” You simply asked, taking off your jacket.

“Why?” Tara mirrored.

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Because she’s my sister—and she and Danny are dating.”

“So?” You tossed your jacket on top of a nearby chair.

“What do you mean ‘so’?” She asked incredulously; her eyebrows stayed furrowed.

“So, just because she’s your sister or Danny’s girlfriend doesn’t mean that I automatically have to get along with her,” you stated with pure conviction, rolling up your sleeves. 

“Y/N, my sister is a great person. She’s also my best friend—so if you care about me at all you will take that into consideration,” Tara was now crossing her arms as she stood her ground. “And you will be mildly polite to her.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, looking her up and down before responding. “What makes you think I care about you?” Tara didn’t need eyes to know you were smirking and enjoying this way too much.

She blushes, looking down at the ground and shaking her head as she grows flustered. “I–I don’t mean care-care. Like—care. I mean if you like me at all—not like-like! I just meant that–” Tara stumbles over her words, tucking in a loose strand of hair behind her ear. You watch her with amusement, a soft smile grazing your face as you let out a light snort.

“If you think of me remotely as the sort of person you could occasionally stand to talk to then you will try to get along with my sister. That’s all.” 

Your eyes never pulled from her once, only looking at her with fondness as you finally said something. “Okay,” you nod.

“Okay?”

“Can’t guarantee that it’ll work but I’ll try,” you confirm. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome…” You glance at the sink then back at Tara. “Should probably get to work.”

“Right. Sorry—go ahead.” She turns to walk away, looking at you one more time before leaving the kitchen. You crouch down by the sink again, not meeting her gaze but feeling it. She doesn’t see how you grin to yourself; your mind being plagued with thoughts of the younger Carpenter.

Guess it wouldn’t hurt to make an effort. 

—

Later that night, you decided to stop by Tara’s window for a surprise visit. You looked at her for a few seconds—admiring how peaceful she looked—before lightly tapping on her window. She turned to look at the window, a grin grazing her face when her eyes meets yours.

She lifted the window with a smile as you looked up at her fondly. “Hey,” you finally said after the window fully opened, expression never faltering as you leaned your head against the window frame.

“Hey back,” she replied. “Didn’t you say something to Sam about not coming through the window anymore.” Tara heard from Sam that you managed to hold somewhat of a conversation with the older Carpenter, actually making an effort to try with her. No matter how awkward it might have been on your end, at least you tried.

“You talk about me with Sam?” You asked smugly.

She rolled her eyes with an infectious smile. “Just get inside.”

“I didn’t hear a no~” You say in a sing-song voice. Tara pulled you in by your sleeve, roughly, might you add. “Watch the shirt,” you complain while you’re pulled inside her room.

“Quirk it.”

“How gentle,” you sarcastically complimented; you dusted your pants off with your free hand, not commenting on how Tara still held a grip on your other arm. 

“So,” Tara began as she sat on her bed—dragging you with her, “What are we watching tonight?”

“I can’t do Freaky Friday again.”

“Fine.”

“How about Cursed?” You inquired. Tara was leaning her back against your chest; she looked up at you with those beautiful brown eyes.

“That movie’s terrible.”

“One-hundred percent, but Milo Ventimiglia is in it.”

“Doesn’t he only have like six minutes of screen time?”

“But in it, nevertheless.”

“You drive a hard bargain… Get the laptop?”

You respond by reaching over to the night stand, grabbing her laptop. You hand it to her and she opens it on her lap. 

Tara would never comment on how she was the only one who got this side of you—the gentle, kind, and considerate side. Well, when she wants to see you squirm she comments on it. But for now, she’ll keep it to it herself.

-----------

A/N: the urge to write a paper on how jess mariano is a truly misunderstood character grows each & each day...

(I got beef with star hallows. we leave it at that.)

[projectcaramel]

Do you have sleeping headcannons for the side characters? I wanna know their sleeping habits, what they would wear, or how heavy of a sleeper they are. ♡

-- Caramel: I might have some, yes. If by "side characters," you're referring to Raphael et al., I can't really give you good headcanons because I'm not far enough along in the games to have gotten to know them beyond a few lines of dialogue in events, but I can give you my opinion on the former undates. --

Sleeping headcanons for former undates + Luke:

Diavolo

Sleeps on his back, generally, but he tends to roll around.

Grabs things that come close. Pillows, people, phones, doesn't matter. If he can hold it, he takes it and doesn't let go, particularly if it's soft.

Sleeps like a hibernating bear. If he's not ready to wake up yet, chances are you'll be clanging pots and pans to get him out of bed. Despite this, he is a morning person once he shakes off his grogginess.

His sleepwear usually consists of a silk robe, but it's not unusual for him to decide to sleep with just a pair of boxers on.

Barbatos

Often power-naps while standing up; when he actually goes to his bed, he curls up into positions that look intensely uncomfortable, but he apparently finds them relaxing.

Once he is asleep, he does not move; once, Diavolo called a doctor in terror because he thought Barbatos was dead.

Liable to wake up at any point during the night, particularly if he hears anything resembling a mouse squeak. If you rap on the wall, he'll open his eyes and ask you what you need. I.e. Barbatos requires a DO NOT DISTURB sign despite his protests.

Takes his shoes, tailcoat and tie off, but he otherwise does not change his clothing to sleep

Simeon

Sleeps on his side with his hand buried under the pillow his head is on.

Because he often sleeps dangerously close to the edge of his bed, Luke will sometimes wake up to a loud THUD because Simeon dropped onto the floor (and continues to sleep afterwards.)

Generally keeps a very strict habit of sleeping for eight hours, partially on Luke's account. He usually wakes up in the middle of the night at least once a month and randomly starts texting someone like Leviathan.

Sleeps with blue, button-down pajamas decorated with clouds with a matching eye-mask. He cannot sleep unless it's completely dark.

Luke

Sleeps in fetal position under a lot of blankets, even if he's sweating (something about being afraid of demons clutching his ankle, or not afraid or whatever)

Has a habit of sleep-talking, sometimes saying sweet things about Simeon or Barbatos.

He usually sleeps soundly the entire night, but there are occasionally nights where he stays wide awake, either due to anxiety or excitement. Oddly, he tends to wakes up very punctually.

His sleepwear is very much similar to his dad's Simeon's, although many of the clouds are well-defined and have happy faces on them (He wanted the ones without faces, but they were not in stock).

Solomon

Sleeps on his stomach most of the time, more often than not with a weighted blanket on top of him.

Accidentally casts minor hexes and other spells in his sleep, so he occasionally wakes up to find Simeon huffing next to his bed with an empty cup and his bedframe a little burnt.

He sleeps quite well most of the time, but unfortunately, he often sleepwalks while doing so. He will occasionally find bruises in random places on his body and sometimes wake up somewhere completely random, like a jewelry shop.

He sleeps without a shirt and typically wears a loose pair of pants to bed. This occasionally annoys Luke, who thinks it's a little indecent.

--and just because I know someone who snores and practically shakes the foundations of any living space he goes into, no, none of them snore.

[juliasmesmerized]

Me and You

pairings: Josh Washington x gn!reader, Mike Munroe x gn!reader requested type: two pining on an oblivious reader! summary: Mike and Josh shoot their shots on the reader while they just can't get it. vibes intended: Timeless - The Weeknd, Playboy Carti word count: 3334

REQUEST: Hii mootie ! I just saw your post so i may have an idea ? 💞 if you want ofc ! Mike and ahem my cutie pie josh fighting over reader? For her/their attention and the silly agrument went like hmm heated? 😭 not sure if u do smut so i'm sure if you're do or not- but it doesn't have to be one! Maybe yk both of them being obsessed w reader cs yk we r js their light to their darkness <33 [also if i made typos mb im really sleepy 😿💔] ALSO HAPPY NEW YEAR 🥳🎀 i hope ideas come to you ! You can ignore this take care🤍🤍 - @castielsloversblog

RESPONSE: hi pookie! happy new year!! it's so sweet of you for this and I super appreciate the ideas. I had some time off focusing on finals and I def wanted to explore other characters than just Josh. I write for everyone, yall I love them all. I got ideas as soon as I read this and asked a friend which request to do first, yours was her choice! Enjoy!

Michael's party was almost underway after a week of planning. Since it was a bunch of the group's first college frat party, Mike decided to plan Jess's, Matt's, Ash's and your first one. Sam's brows slightly furrowed; frat parties are never really chill and freshmen never attend for that reason.

Sam sat with her sketchbook. "Maybe we should have a small get together instead of a full party full of college upperclassmen." Her red coat was eye-catching for the infamous night of halloween eve.

Casa de Mike was decorated with black and orange ornaments. A full skull near the door with a sign that says 'how you doin'?'. There was red splattered around some areas with washable liquid, and LED lights placed around with the remote being Mike's phone.

Mike was setting up more decorations with Jess. "Don't worry about it, Sandiego. It'll be fine! If anything happens to the three freshmen we got them. Josh and I will be on watch." Jessica's hair was longer than usual, gold and sleek. Her purple dress didn't touch the ground, but her hair did.

Emily teased. "You sure you can handle that hair?" Emily wore a black headpiece reminiscing a swan; a corset endowed in pretty bows and a tutu skirt. Edgy black eye makeup and a soft red lip. Her hair didn't fit a bun, so she let it down.

"I better look the part! One night of long hair shouldn't be as bad as wearing heels all night." Jess spoke up as she placed a skull head on the snack counter.

Chris, looking as if he was going to save a young girl, who was immune from a virus, from dying on the operation table that could've saved the whole world. "Why is Jess even here, Mike? Wasn't it supposed to be a surprise?"

He left everything he was doing to stare at Chris. "She had to come over early to do the skull look. Ain't no way I'm doing this myself." He pointed on his face like 'duh!'. He had a skull face drawn on by the makeup artist herself and a full black outfit. A black button up and black slacks and dress shoes. With his height and build, you could see him as a one night fling.

"Riiiiight." Chris went back to checking his phone.

Jess kept going back and forth checking each of the rooms that will be available to the guests, that being the living room, walk-in kitchen, and two bathrooms. "Why is Chris here early anyway?"

"I'm punctual! Why can't we appreciate punctuality these days?" Chris crosses his arms, but lets out a chuckle.

Emily rolled her eyes jokingly. "An hour early isn't punctual, it screams 'I don't have anything else to do with my life.'"

Chris sat next to Sam. "You're not doing much over here either, Em." Sam chuckled from time to time by their conversation as she kept placing strokes onto the pages.

"I was asked by Mike to come early because I knew how to make a party. I got some decorations he could use."

"Mhm. And I am extremely jacked." Chris sarcastically chaffed.

Emily snorted. "Whatever you say, whoever you are!"

"It's from The Last Of Us!"

Emily shook her head as she rested her weight on the wall behind her "Nobody but you would know that."

Jess shouted for Mike who was across the hall. "I think everything's ready here, Mike!" She walks towards Sam; once Sam's pencil left the page, a hand swiped the sketchbook away.

Sam pouted at her younger friend's action. "Jess..!"

"Look here. She's drawing us!" Jess ushered the rest to the notebook. Everyone was dressed up and almost taking a selfie in Samantha's reimagining. Some important people are missing, but were considered by some circles.

Emily cooed as she saw herself holding a peace sign. "Awww, Sammy!" She took it off of Jess's hand to have Chris take a closer look.

His smile earnest, Chris beamed. "I look pretty cool."

Sam shyly looked away from the three complimenting her work. "I'm waiting to see the others to include them."

Jess gave Sam her sketchbook back. "Secret's safe with us!"

The doorbell rings. Sam, like clockwork, got up towards Mike. "Could I hide this somewhere safe? I didn't bring much of a bag."

"Yeah sure, follow me. Em, could you get the door?" Mike walks up the stairs with Sam behind him.

"Sure." She walked towards the door, twisting the knob just right. Her eyes befell the raggedy clothing and dull dark green skin.

An enthusiastic Matt radiated through the realistic zombie costume. "Hey Em! Didn't expect to see you at the door."

Emily stepped aside to let him in. "Woah Matt, how'd you nail the zombie look that well?"

Matthew's positive attitude changed the atmosphere that surrounded them. "I checked some tutorials online! Cool right?"

Emily smiled. "Piqued my interest for sure." She closed the door behind him. He took in the fresh changes done to Mike's place; an area he frequented before, but looked completely redone for this fun occasion.

Matt turned his head to see Jess sitting down. "Do they always go all out with these parties?"

"Frat parties? Yeah, it gets people going." Jess stood up, walking closer to Matt. They had a quick hug.

Sam and Mike came down the stairs and greeted Matt. Before he could continue surveying his surroundings further. The bell rang one more time. Mike went ahead to open the door as a good host.

You and Ashley arrived together. Josh in a separate car arrived around the same time, which had you three at the door.

Mike stepped aside for the rest to come in. "Welcome in!" He kept the door open as a few others began to gather parking outside his suite.

You had a pirate ensemble on, fitting the halloween theme. Ashley's face was highlighted by fawn features; the pretty white spots surrounded by light brown, a light wing on her eyes, the contouring on the nose with the white dots, and a special fawn headband. She wore a short brown dress with white gloves. Her brown boots perfectly cemented the deer getup.

Matt spoke up as he greeted Ashley. "Ash, you look amazing!"

"Thank you, Matt! So do you!" She responded, but all of that drowned as Mike came to greet you first.

He definitely glanced over to fully take you in; top to bottom. "Nice costume you got on. Very coastal."

Joshua walked up next to you. "Thanks Mike, so do you!" You had a smile creep up your lips due to the compliments you've gathered so far and the night barely began. It started with Ashley, then Josh, and now Mike.

Emily looked around. "Where are Han and Beth?"

Josh's demeanor never changed. "They asked to come in a separate car, Hannah's been practicing how to drive. Something about keeping their costumes a surprise from everyone."

Sam recalled all close interactions with the twins. Hannah purposefully kept her mouth zipped, even if she could never hide anything from Sam. Beth was more relaxed about everything, and can hide a few things. "Right, Han never even told me her costume."

"That's interesting. They'll also be the only high schoolers here, keep 'em safe." Josh looked around towards everyone, knowing they'll be a helping hand. They loved pranking each other, but when it came to safety; it was no joke.

A few nods and notes of agreement came from the entire group. The doorbell kept ringing until the place was filled with college students ready to start the weekend off with a bang.

Hannah and Beth entered in completely differing outfits. Hannah went for Emily from Corpse Bride and Beth decided to go Raven from the DC comics.

You greeted everyone and began to drown into the crowd and the ongoing party. There was dancing, conversation, the loners, people jumping into the swimming pool, and drinking; which you couldn't even tell if it was legal.

You decided to head outside for a breather and dip your feet into the water. Before you could fully slip away, Josh took your hand and moved you towards the hallway near the bathrooms.

His smile, gleaming as ever. He decided to have a square voice changer that could be attached to his shirt. The white shirt and jeans outfit was simple to the naked eye, but with the drawn on blood stain and fake knife, you could tell it was from a slasher film. The iconic line of his would go: What's the matter Sidney? You look like you've seen a ghost.

Instead, he goes on elsewhere. "You enjoying the party so far?"

"Yeah, it's definitely new, but nice. It feels you might drown into the crowd any second." You smiled at his attentive nature.

He nodded. "Right, you gotta just get your footing." Your eyes gaze at the square microphone at his collar and he realizes.

Josh takes it off and clicks a button. His voice was augmented as it came out of the machine. "You know, it works." Your eyes sparkled at the interaction.

You looked into his eyes and back at his hand holding the mic. "That's such attention to detail! Amazing!" The astonishment never truly left your face even when Jess called out to Josh.

Jess tapped on his shoulder and looked up to see him. "I need you for something."

"You good, Jess? What's up?" He looked genuinely concerned for a moment. She wasn't one to ask for Josh out of everybody.

She gave a slight smile at his care. "Just a few minutes of your time." He followed her as they walked off, and you were alone once again. You walked outside to see a cooler with a bunch of drinks. Walking up to it, looking into the different choices, you were stumped.

"I'd say it's too early for a drink." The familiar voice had you turn around to Mike. His hazel eyes stared into you with intensity. "We'll be here all night you know."

You cross your arms at him, amused at his conversation. "You're saying I shouldn't party hard and get wasted?"

He chuckled at how far you took it. "I'm just saying a pirate should be stealing hearts, not taking shots."

Going with his flow, you think of a good response. "Whose heart is on the market to be stolen? I don't see any, personally." You point towards the multitude of couples at his place.

He smiled. "You'd be surprised-" He was cut off by another friend.

Chris cries out from behind you and Michael. "MIKE! Mike! Mike!"

Mike turns around to respond. "Yeah, Chris?"

He points back into the crowd. "A girl puked and I don't know what to do? Come with me let's carry her somewhere. She's unconscious in one of the bathrooms."

Michael groans. "I gotta take care of that, see you."

"Of course, take your time. Enjoy." By this point, Mike gave his back to you. He raises his hand to salute and says back: "not going to enjoy it!"

You chuckle at his response, even if he groans and complains; as anyone would, he still would get the job done wholeheartedly. The party is ever-so slightly going harder. People are making out, sleeping on the floor, jumping to the beat, anything you could imagine was happening.

Going back inside, without a drink. The conversation with Mike took your mind off of it; probably for the best. The song playing was something you used to listen to at times, known to be a cult classic at clubs and parties. It was getting to the good part.

Fresh out the trench, four hundred packs Uh, yeah, I'm spinnin' in Paris

Josh creeped up from behind you. "You should try the dance floor." His smile, filling you with comfort and excitement, had you eager to try something new. There was some space at the designated area; the living room where the sofas were placed away from the wooden floor. He put out his palm for you to grab.

Dress for these hoes, they finna flock Just poured a four in a soda, it pop

You smiled at his gesture, and take his hand. "Why not? I love this song." Sam kept eyeing the two of you as you held his hand. Hannah and Beth could be seen whispering to each other. The eerie feeling chilled your spine, but you ignore it in pursuit of trying something new at this new experience.

Them drugs finna hit, I'm feelin' ill I'm wrestlin' all of my demons, I feel like The Rock

The lights flashed random strong colors at semi-long intervals, blue, red, green, purple, orange. The crowd interested in the song jumped to the beat and chanted the lyrics. You and Josh join them. The beat was about to drop. Everyone was colorfully assorted in costumes and embroidery to show off their favorite characters, mastery in creation and design, and just having fun with outfits.

Ever since I was a kid, I been legit If I was you, I would cut up my wrist

The song moves you and Josh follows you. In your element, you don't realize his hands echoing your hips. Eyes closed, feeling the moment and everything surrounding it slow down. Only you, Josh, and the music mattered.

XO tatted all over her body, yeah She just wanna roll and I don't mind it, yeah

Your costume flowed alongside you, the golden chains and belt moved with you, and Josh was taking all of you in. Regardless of how much of a bad dancer you could've been, it felt natural and the confidence showed. Mike glanced at you, already whisked away before he could've done anything.

Ever since I was a jit, I been legit You should let her go, she wanna be it

Josh looked at Mike, knowing the situation they were both in while mouthing the lyrics. Gritting his teeth, Michael put his weight against the wall, leg up, and arms crossed. Planning his next move, as Josh and you continued to the song.

You smiled to Josh as the song calmed down. "Thanks for calling me up here." You still had energy, but the climax of the song has ended.

Joshua effused; still trying to keep cool. "Of course, I knew you'd enjoy your time."

"Have you?" You raised an eyebrow towards his sincerity.

His blue eyes locked onto yours. "With you? Of course I would."

You chuckle to his seemingly disingenuous response. "You'd say that to everyone."

He bantered alongside you. "You wound me! I can have special moments with special people." His right was on his heart and his left hand was on his forehead, his eyes were closed, looking especially dramatic.

You rebutted, seeing him flirt with Sam and Jess quite often. "Yeah, when you don't flirt with every girl you know!" You and Josh both know flirting with Jess, recently single, was more of a joke. If she gets a guy, she wouldn't let Josh even have an inch of a chance to try.

Mike was getting more pissed as he saw you laughed with another guy, even if that was your mutual friend. The idea of you laughing with a friend was innocent enough, but he knew this guy has it in for you also. He hated it; despising the fact you couldn't be the one to focus on him as they were both pining for you.

There wasn't much you could do, he knew that. He knew you wouldn't get out of your comfort zone and do anything like that. You all were friends, and he understood. Josh also thought the same in regard, which pushes them both to pursue you more aggressively. As a board game would go, each of the guys took turns with trying to get you.

Using their wingmen as chess pieces to get you alone, they strike at different times. He couldn't have Jess call Josh out while you guys were dancing, and when he finally had the chance to, you both were done. Michael's train of thought has clashed as he saw Josh make a move. His finger brushed your cheek. His clenched his fist at the sight.

They both agreed not to make a serious move until you figure yourself out. Everyone knew about it at this point, the staggering looks, the whispers, Jess and Chris, everything was calculated. Until Joshua ruined the deal and Michael had to deal with that, alone. Joshua would have to rave the consequences as well, alone.

Without much thought, Mike was already holding Josh's hand away from your face. "Not going to cut it man."

Josh, looking puzzled, responded to Mike. "Yo, dude, what's going on?" You stepped aside from them, knowing that Mike was not happy and you wanted nothing to do with it.

Mike's facial expression was relaxed, but his stare didn't let up at all. "You know what's going on. You disregarded what we agreed on." Everyone who caught onto the situation surrounded them and almost pushed you back from the suspense and itching tension.

You squeeze through them regardless and hold your head high to see everything.

"You can't just claim the situation however you want. How long are we just gonna sit here and verbally shoot our shots? Some people fall after physical encounters."

He shook his head, more forcefully this time. His tone went deeper as he tried to hammer in his point of view. "That doesn't matter. We agreed on something, Josh. Don't fuck with me."

"You're too scared to shoot your shot, don't blame it on me. That was your doing, I took that grace period with you and now we can BOTH do what we want until she takes a stand."

A clenched fist flew into Josh's face. His right cheek, now bruised and red, turned away. "Fuck you, Mike." He held onto Mike's black collar and took his left hand to swing at him. The punch landed on Mike almost immediately.

The chants of "Fight" grew repetitive and loud. As the fight got more heated, more people covered your vision. After crawling out of the situation you were put in, you find Josh on top of Mike. Josh was landing punch after punch while Mike defended himself. You were beside yourself, this felt too much to bare and your eyes widened at the scene. You ran towards them.

They were both in the wrong, you know that. Neither of them should've had this escalate to this, but nothing could be done now but to stop them both from hurting each other further. Josh had a bloody nose, Mike got a black eye, the injuries on them both were never ending.

You screamed. "Stop this!"

Not that it did anything. Blinded and drowned by the current moment, Mike got the energy to push Josh off of him and began to get on the offense. Before his hit could land, Chris grabbed Josh away and Matt put his hands under Mike's arms and pulled him away.

Chris looked over towards both of his friends. His tone more sincere than it was the entire night; feeling stern. "She asked you guys to stop. Stop this."

Sam began damage control immediately. "Show's over everyone. Go home." Beth began helping her out in swaying people to drop the situation. De-escalating something this heated would never be easy or even fully fulfilled, but Samantha definitely had to try.

Hannah, Emily, and Jessica had nothing to do with helping the scene, instead Hannah was frozen in shock of Michael's newfound discreet confession. Emily and Jessica were silently eating up the whole ordeal; two guys fighting over someone? Yeouch! This sounded like a good Friday night to them!

Once everyone cleared up, Josh immediately headed on. Silently glad that Hannah and Beth had their own separate ride. No one could've even silently checked on him on the side, for he was already gone.

IM BACK BAYBEEEEEEEE! Thank you so much for reading this! I definitely enjoyed this request, please send some more! I have more to write later on, and I definitely have ideas for. I haven't forgotten them, but I got overworked with finals and I couldn't get really good ideas, there was one request I made three separate ideas for, but finally decided on one. •ᴗ•

[imagineastrology]

Random Astro Notes ✨️

♡ Sun in the 11th could indicate dominating friends.

♡ Saturn in 1st ppl are considerate.

♡ Saturn in 1st ppl also have excellent bone structure and teeth.

♡ Neptune in 1st ppl can be master manipulators if they are angry or feel disrespected.

♡ Uranus in the 3rd House individuals could experience many accidents around their environment or childhood.

♡ Pluto in 4th ppl need therapy...das all I'm going to say...

♡ Aries, Cancer, Libra, Scorpio or Leo near your Midheaven has the ability to envision their highest achievements, hence why they are ambitious.

♡ Chiron in the 9th or aspects to the ascendant could indicate a fear of horses! Chiron in Greek Mythology was half man half centaur (horse).

♡ Lilith in 1st, 8th, and 12th ppl could take an interest in taxidermy.

♡ Asteroid Nessus (7066) in the 1st House can indicate bad impulse control.

♡ If there is a lack of 1st House planets in your chart, it can mean your physical body is not THAT important to you.

♡ Venus in 3rd house ppl can be hand and arm models!

♡ Saturn, Mars, Pluto, Uranus in the 4th house ppl often get confused with receiving love and it may feel 'unreal' or too fake to feel substantial. These people need patience when opening up, contrary to what we believe.

♡ 5th House stelliums!! Get into speculative activities like the stock market...thank me later ;)

♡ Chiron in the 5th may have felt threatened or ashamed when expressing themselves in some form or another.

♡ Aries moon people move on from tricky situations so fast..

♡ Moon in 7th House people may subconsciously attract unstable and fickle partners.

♡ Saturn in the 9th could result in extremist behaviours.

♡ Any malefic planet in the 10th house natives laugh at setbacks as they have had so many.

♡ Virgo Ascendant ppl approach life and people in an orderly, polite, careful, and punctual way.

♡ Capricorn mars people either do things the right way or not at all.

♡ Scorpio mars ppl have trust issues and are reluctant to show themselves to people.