#imagine if we got this STACKED CAST

[bnprm]

after watching only friends ep 4 here are my thoughts: (from an onlyfriends hater lol)

- nick is a FREAK. i’m sorry but he needs help. i thought he was just a boy in love with his fuck buddy but the obsessive behaviour is sick.

- why did they have to cast MY forcebook.

- boston literally sexually assaulted top multiple times what the fuck.

- the drug plot jfc. once again. why my forcebook.

- watching this show is genuinely like watching a house set on fire and not being able to do anything about it, but you can’t stop watching because of a masochistic curiosity

[zephyrchama]

Movie Night with Diavolo and Barbatos

A self-indulgent fic (under the read more) inspired by the The Brothers' Hobbies Devilgram story.

SFW fluff, gender neutral reader, it's like 1.5k words long? I just threw together whatever because I wanted to imagine a cozy movie night.

Very few beings in either of the three realms ever got to witness Diavolo or Barbatos in their pajamas. You were the lucky soul who got to see both as they guided you through the castle for a special movie marathon night. Sweatpants and a loose robe were a nice change of pace from the usual stiff-collared uniforms Diavolo typically wore. He excited donned the dragon slippers you gifted him once. Barbatos had his matching owl slippers on under a slimmer, flowier set of pajamas with matching button-up top and bottoms. The fabric looked incredibly smooth, with not a single wrinkle.

The room they led you to was dimly lit. The curtains were drawn so that starlight couldn’t shine through the windows, in front of which were various stacks of DVDs as tall as you. A plush three-person couch had been placed right in the room’s center, squarely in front of a projector that took up an entire wall. In the back of the room closest to where you all entered was a table piled high with treats. Most of it was an approximation of human world movie snacks, but Barbatos had clearly done his best.

"Are those nachos?" You asked. "Pretzels and popcorn... That's so many toppings... M&Ms!? Really? Are those real?"

Barbatos chuckled. "Indeed. Seeing your face light up was worth all the effort to procure them. Please, take as much as you'd like."

Barbatos and Diavolo went to claim their seats on either side of the couch, but encouraged you to take your time with the food. Diavolo clutched a half dozen blockbuster movies in his hand.

“Will you get a plate for me too? I can’t decide what we should start with.” He hummed and hawed, turning each package over to read their summaries.

By the time you were ready, Diavolo had made a choice and loaded up the movie’s main menu. You carried the heaping plates over with enough food for everyone. They each offered to hold them while you sat down.

There was not a lot of room to sit. Despite seating three, Diavolo could have taken up half of the couch by himself and Barbatos was being unusually liberal with how much space he took up. They happily motioned for you to take a seat, Diavolo grinning like a kid.

You sandwiched yourself between them as best you could, wiggling until your back touched cushions. It felt awkward basically distributing your weight over the side of their laps, but neither one made any outward signs of acknowledgement. It was very warm between the two demons. With your thighs brushing those on either side of you, you could confirm their pajamas really were soft. It was incredibly cozy. They both smelled like a recent shower.

“Ready?” DIavolo asked once you were settled in with your plate. “I thought we’d start with an action film to really kick things off on a high note. Let’s begin!”

The bright film cast a gentle light over the three of you. Every time something exploded or a twist occurred, Diavolo would whoop and laugh. He was a very expressive movie watcher.

“This is rather delicious,” he commented in a low voice after cleaning his plate. Diavolo leaned into your ear, bumping your shoulder with his own.“Mind if I try some of yours?”

“Feel free. Barbatos, you too.” There was plenty left, not to mention the entire table of food. Every few minutes his highness would pluck a chip or handful of chocolates off your plate. You realized shortly before the credits that it should have run out already with the two of you constantly snacking. Was it refilling itself?

You turned to Barbatos. His eyes were already transfixed on you instead of the projector, as if you were the night’s main event. “Is something wrong?”

You pointed to the magic plate. “Are you doing this?”

He merely smiled, neither confirming or denying. You softly nudged him in the side in appreciation as he whispered, “if there’s anything you need, just ask.”

As the action flick finally ended, Diavolo leaned forward to browse through the other movies. “What shall we watch next? Romance? Comedy?” He asked as you took advantage of the extra space to stretch.

“I believe romance and comedy often go together, so we could watch both genres at once,” Barbatos said.

“Oh! What about this? It’s very famous, right?” Diavolo thrust an old horror movie at you. You’d heard the name before and vaguely knew its plot, but never actually saw it.

”Yeah, everyone in the human world knows that movie.”

“Then we’ll go with this!”

He loaded it up, while Barbatos sifted through the pile and pulled out a disk. “Let us put this romance comedy on standby.”

The horror movie was way scarier than you thought. Weren’t old films supposed to have cheesy graphics and a now-overdone plot? This was gory and dark. Barbatos and Diavolo were actually laughing at the chainsaw-wielding maniac on screen. “Hilarious! I thought the comedy was after this?” Diavolo exclaimed. You realized once again that demons were not normal.

You put on a brave face and powered through the movie, intent on not ruining their good time. But a particular jumpscare caught you off-guard, prompting a shriek as you shakily turned away from the movie. That turned all the attention on to you. “Sorry, sorry. Don’t mind me, just surprised me,” you stammered.

“Do you find this scary?” Diavolo asked. “This silly thing?”

Barbatos apologized, saying “I hadn’t considered this could be distressing for you. I’ll turn it off immediately.”

“No, it’s fine! We can keep watching,” you insisted while diverting your eyes from the scene on the screen.

Diavolo grabbed your hand. “Nothing could possibly hurt you when we’re here. Isn’t that right, Barbatos? Why, I dare say you’re with the two strongest men in the whole Devildom. We could stop a thousand of these murderous humans.” His lighthearted smile was reassuring as always as he belted out another laugh.

“Would it help if we held your hands?” Barbatos suggested. It was a childish recommendation, but tempting nonetheless. “We could even lock arms, and if the film becomes too much, you can rely on one of us to block it out for you.”

That sounded agreeable, and you approved of it just to get their attention back to the movie. You were thankful the two self-professed strongest demons in the realm would be so accommodating for you. Though embarrassing at first, it did help to bury your head in one of their sides any time things got too horrific.

Any time you jumped towards Diavolo, he would wrap his arm around your shoulders and bring you in closer for a comforting side hug. He’d make small comments, “this actor is very good, does he have any other famous works? I wonder if they filmed this on a set,” so you could focus on the sound of his voice instead of the televised screams.

Any time you jumped towards Barbatos, he would cover your ears and bring your forehead against his chest. It helped to focus on the calm, steady beating of his heart until the scene ended. One hand would gently brush through your hair and down your back until you were composed again.

This film was thankfully shorter than the first one. As you excused yourself to the restroom, you heard Diavolo comment about how it was “too short,” with Barbatos agreeing it was “more fun than expected.” You hoped they really meant the movie, and not the way you acted.

Upon returning, Barbatos had prepared a large fluffy blanket.

“It’s getting quite late, and as you know the Devildom gets rather cold at night.”

You doubted you could get cold while wedged between these two on a sofa. Though, It did add to the movie viewing experience.

The third movie was, as expected, much lighter and more enjoyable. You could laugh along with them and at times explain aspects of human culture important to the plot. 

“If she doesn’t want her ex to show up, why doesn’t she just cast a warding spell? Such an easy solution.”

“Humans usually can’t cast magic. Until I got here, I didn’t even know magic was real.”

”Oh! Right.”

Maybe it was all the food, or the addition of the blanket, or the overall coziness of the situation. Your eyelids were starting to get heavy and interest in the film was waning. “Hey, I know we’re only on the third movie, but how many of these are we watching tonight?”

Diavolo stared at you. “As many as we can! We have all those.” He gestured to the massive collection by the windows.

”My lord, some will have to wait until next week.”

“Right, but the night is still young!”

You were at a loss for words. It had been five hours so far. “I don’t… Uh… I’ll try my best, but like, I don’t know if I can stay up that long,” you admitted. Did these two ever even sleep? They were in pajamas, so maybe?

“That is a problem.” Barbatos seemed troubled, unable to think of a solution that didn’t involve delaying their schedule.

“Well, let’s just keep going,” Diavolo offered. “It can’t be helped if you’re tired, but we can still get through what we can. I greatly enjoy having you here! Both as a friend and to clarify what’s happening.” He ruffled your hair before turning his eyes back to the screen.

Before you realized it, you were waking up from a snug slumber. You don’t remember falling asleep, only that you guys had finished the romantic comedy and started on something sci-fi with robots.

On the screen now was a documentary about birds.

“Oh, awake now? This movie’s getting really good, I think you’ll like it.” You were more focused on how nonchalant Lord Diavolo was acting about being your pillow. You quickly and apologetically lifted your head from his lap.

Barbatos had apparently moved you into a more comfortable position while you slept, as the lower half of your body was in his lap as well. He helped you sit up, “careful not to fall now. But yes, this film is most fascinating. Can I get you anything? Some water?”

There were half a dozen questions running through your mind, but the first one out was “what time is it?”

“6:15am, nearly time for the Young Master to begin his day.”

DIavolo huffed. He couldn’t fight the looming workload he had to deal with, so he popped a potato chip into his mouth instead. Despite your insistence that you would sit normally, the two of them equally insisted you lay down and stay comfortable for the remainder of the documentary. It was peaceful.

When all was done, Barbatos procured everyone a change of clothes and started wrapping up the food table. First pick of leftovers went to you. “Would you like to take it all?” he asked.

“Don’t think I can finish all that, but Beel can help me.”

Diavolo went to change in the other room, but called out, “There's still so much we have to watch, and I'd like to go back over the ones you missed! What do you say, same plans for next week? Same day, same time?”

That sounded good to you.

---

(Thanks for reading!) (bonus pic I wanted to put in the text but didn't want to interrupt the story)

[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt.4)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Matron!Minthara x Forced!Betrothed!reader

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part five

CW: feminine drow reader, catching feelings (involuntarily), mention of blood, open wounds, transformation, this is all my own interpretation of drow lore

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The library of House Baenre was a vast labyrinth of knowledge, its towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and forbidden texts. The dim light of nearby luminescent fungi filtered through the high windows, casting a fluorescent glow across the room. It was well past midnight, and the library was usually deserted at this hour. Yet tonight, two figures—Kyorlin and Lesaonar—were engaged in a quiet conversation, their voices hushed as they wandered among the stacks.

Arys, Minthara’s nephew, had been tasked with getting closer to the Liakyre twins, to then ply them for information about their older sister. When he saw them alone in the library, he thanked Lolth and seized the opportunity. He was not going ot fail the Matron.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Arys greeted with a grin, holding up a bottle of whiskey. The soft clink of glass against glass as he walked drew their attention.

The twins turned to face him, their expressions shifting from surprise to cautious interest. Arys approached, the whiskey bottle held out as an offering.

“A little late-night libation?” he suggested, his tone friendly. “I figured it might be nice to have a drink and chat." He then leaned towards them and dropped into a low conspiratol tone "Us men have to stick together after all.”

Kyorlin and Lesaonar exchanged weary glances, they had been cautious around the other members of House Baenre, they knew it was safer to keep quiet and out of the way, but then again an ally could never hurt. So, they nodded in agreement.

The three of them settled into comfortable chairs near a low table, the bottle of whiskey opened and poured into goblets. The rich, amber liquid swirled gently in the dim light. The initial awkwardness of their meeting quickly dissipated as the warmth of the whiskey took effect. As they drank, the conversation turned to their experiences in House Baenre. The twins seemed eager to share their thoughts and Arys smiled, this is exactly what he wanted.

“You know, Arys,” Lesaonar began, a hint of amusement in his voice, “we actually get treated better here than we ever did back in House Liakyre. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”

Arys raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? I’d have thought House Baenre would be far more… intense for you guys. ”

“Oh, it is intense,” Kyorlin admitted with a laugh, “I can imagine that without our dear sister's protection here we would already be dead by now. But back at Liakyre, the female members—sisters, aunts, cousins—were always picking on us, bullying us. Here, they don’t even bother with us. It’s like we’re invisible, which, honestly, is a very nice change.”

Lesaonar nodded in agreement. “The libraries here are amazing, too. We were never allowed such access to resources back at our old house. We weren't deemed worthy enough. This-" Lesaonar gestured to the towers of books around them "-Is a whole new world.”

Arys chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. I always thought the Liakyres were a soft house, that you boys would have got off lightly, maybe even have a few third sons kicking about. You weren't exactly high up in the ranks.”

“You would think that,” Kyorlin said, taking a sip of his drink. “But our matron- mother, even, was dilligent. Brutally so, a devout and traditional follower of Lolth. I personally believe she was delighted when she had twin boys, it meant that she was able to sacrifice every son born after us - and she did. It got to a point where she was praying for boys, just so she could make a show of her love to Lolth.”

Arys’s curiosity was piqued. “What about your sister, Y/N? I've heard she is a dedicated follower of Lolth, is she like your mother?”

Lesaonar’s expression softened slightly, a hint of fondness in his eyes. “No, she isn’t, at all. Y/N was actually the kindest of them all. Her love for Lolth is natural, our mother's was desperate."

"She despised Y/N for it, often sent her off to darkest parts of the underdark, hoping she would never come back, but she always did." Kyorlin said with a light smile, as if reminscing on a funny memory.

"Just because of her connection with Lolth? Or because of what she did at the engagement party with that hook horror?" Arys pressed and he noticed Kyorlin visisbly tense.

Lesaonar, however, had been swept away by the whiskey's effects and before Kyorlin could stop him, words tumbled from his mouth and he gestured with a dramatic flair. "Of course, she was envious that Y/N was such an emblem of our divine heritage-"

"-That is quite enough for tonight!" Kyorlin interrupted his twin, snatching his drink from him. Arys smiled, he was clearly on to something and Lesaonar had let enough information slip for him to get the Matron off of his back. Kyorlin helped Lesaonar to his feet and turned curtly to Arys. "Thank you, Arys, tonight has been a pleasure but I fear the whiskey has gone to my brother's head."

"Worry not, we are going to be family in a few days. Been a pleasure to get to know the both of you." Arys nodded to them as they left, he had all that he needed.

After a celebratory drink for himself, Arys made his way out of the library, the bottle of whiskey nearly empty and a satisfied smirk on his face. He had successfully gleaned useful information from Kyorlin and Lesaonar, and he was eager to report back to Minthara.

As he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps echoed faintly against the stone walls. He was so focused on his pride that he barely noticed the soft patter of footsteps behind him.

Suddenly, Kyorlin appeared out of nowhere, his expression grim and his movements quick. Without warning, Kyorlin swung a heavy book from a nearby shelf at Arys. The blow caught Arys off guard, sending him crashing to the floor. The sharp impact of the blow to his head caused a burst of pain and disorientation. Blood trickled from the wound on his forehead, staining the stone floor and before Arys could react, the darkness enveloped him, and he lost consciousness.

When Arys came to, he was lying on a cot in the infirmary of House Baenre, wounded guards and soldiers lay groaning around him, most wounds probably inflicted by the women of the house. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and a warm, sticky sensation on his face alerted him to a trickle of blood running from a cut above his eyebrow. He struggled to sit up, disoriented and confused.

A healer, an elderly female drow, most likely a great great aunt of his, with a stern expression, stood over him, her hands deftly applying a cool compress to his head. Her eyes were narrowed in disapproval.

“Careless fool,” she muttered, her voice stern and authoritative. “Getting drunk in the library and falling over. You’re lucky those Liakyre twins found you before anyone else did.”

Arys blinked, trying to piece together the events leading up to his current predicament. “The twins? Kyorlin and Lesaonar?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

The healer nodded curtly. “Yes, they found you lying on the floor of the library. They brought you here and took care of you. I must say, you’re fortunate they were able to intervene before more serious harm occurred."

Arys's mind raced as he tried to remember what had happened, but his memory was hazy. The events from the library, the conversation with Kyorlin and Lesaonar, and the details about Y/N seemed to be slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Did-did they say anything important?” he asked, his anxiety growing.

The healer gave him a puzzled look. “They didn’t mention much. Kyorlin said something about you getting drunk and falling, but he didn’t elaborate."

Frustrated and disoriented, Arys tried to recall the conversation with the twins, but the details eluded him. The whiskey had clearly affected his memory, as had the fall and he felt a pang of frustration and fear that he would not be able to report anything to his aunt. The wedding was only a few nights away and if he hadn't brought any useful information to the Matron by then, then he was sure that his own mother would sacrifice him and offer him as a wedding gift to the couple.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The grand hall of House Baenre was abuzz with the preparations for the grand ceremony tomorrow. The space, with its opulent drow architecture, was being meticulously fussed over for the upcoming wedding by an array of servants and lower family members keen to rise through the familial ranks. The rehearsal, a necessary formality, was underway with the High Priestess presiding over the proceedings, while you and Minthara stood side by side, ready to go through the motions of the ceremony.

Minthara’s posture was relaxed but betrayed an evident lack of interest. She leaned against a stone column, her expression bored, and her eyes glazed over as the High Priestess explained the order of the ceremony.

“The ceremony will commence with a prayer to Lolth, invoking her blessings and ensuring her favor upon this union,” she explained, her voice echoing in the cavernous hall. “This will be followed by the binding blood vow, where both parties pledge their eternal commitment.”

Minthara’s eyes glazed over further, clearly disinterested, though she nodded occasionally, if only to maintain the pretense of attentiveness.

“The next step,” the High Priestess continued, her tone unwavering, “is the cutting off of the House Liakyre symbol from your body, Y/N, and its replacement with the House Baenre symbol, on your neck to match Minthara's."

You shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the tattoo removal and couldn't help but notice that Minthara's interest piqued at the mention of it, a small smile appearing on her lips. She would be the one to slice it from your skin, and brand you with your new House mark. The thought of losing a symbol so deeply connected to your identity was unsettling, as was the nausea that came with it, though you tried to push the unease aside.

At this point, now teased with more exciting matters, Minthara’s usual veneer of control slipped slightly. Her lips curled into a subtle snarl. “And what about the toast?”

The High Priestess’s eyes narrowed slightly at Minthara’s interruption but she continued as if unaffected. “After the new tattoo is applied, there will be a toast, followed by the banquet. The drinks served to you will contain Menzoberranzan love magic, ensuring the bonding process expected later in the night is completed effectively.”

Both you and Minthara stiffened at the High Priestess’s words. Minthara’s expression transformed from irritation to shock, her eyes wide with outrage. You, too, were taken aback by the unexpected and rather vulgar revelation. The thought of a magical enhancement to facilitate intimacy was not something either of you had anticipated.

“This is absurd!” Minthara’s voice was sharp, betraying her anger. “You can’t be serious. This is an outrage.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “Yes, this is crossing a line!”

The High Priestess raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your reactions. “Grow up, both of you. It’s merely a ritualistic practice to ensure the union is properly sealed. It is in the privacy of your own quarters and it’s just sex—nothing more, though if it is something more then all the better for House Baenre.”

"As if." "I would rather turn into a drider."

“Enough,” the High Priestess said, her voice cutting through the tension. “The ceremony is tomorrow. You both need to rest and prepare yourselves. This rehearsal is over.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and began to walk away, her robes trailing behind her like a flowing river of crimson. You crossed your arms looking up at Minthara with a scowl, Minthara scoffed, putting her hands on her hips.

The High Priestess’s dismissive attitude only fueled your outrage and frustration. As she swept away, her crimson robes flowing like a river of silk, you turned to Minthara, who stood with her arms crossed and a scowl etched into her features. The air between you was charged with tension, every word an electric spark.

Minthara’s frustration burst forth like a dam breaking. “This is all your fault. I could have just obliterated your entire house and been done with it, but no, you had to sneak away and find some ethereal loophole. You’ve dragged me into this farce of a wedding.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Minthara,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s my fault you were too blinded by your own bloodlust to consider there might be other options. I had no idea I was dealing with someone who thought slaughtering my entire house was a viable solution.”

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, her irritation barely contained. “You think this is funny? This wedding, this ceremony—everything about it is a nightmare. And it’s all because of your stubbornness and your insipid refusal to accept reality.”

“Reality?” you countered sharply. “You know, for someone who claims to be so powerful, the mightiest in Menzoberranzen, you sure do complain a lot.”

The argument continued as you both stormed down the corridors of House Baenre, your footsteps echoing off the cold, dark stone walls. Minthara’s heels clicked furiously against the ground, each step a testament to her frustration. You matched her pace, your own anger simmering as you exchanged barbed comments.

“If you had any sense of responsibility, you’d have thought this through before you dragged me into your mess,” Minthara snapped.

“And if you had any sense of decency, you wouldn’t have murdered my entire family, forcing my hand.” you shot back, the words barely hiding your exasperation.

The quarrel continued unabated as you reached the separate quarters designated for the night. As was traditional, the night before the wedding required that you both sleep apart, a formality steeped in ancient customs. The thought of having to spend the night without Minthara’s presence was both frustrating and unsettling.

As you reached the door to your quarters, Minthara stopped abruptly, facing you with a final scowl. “Enjoy your night alone. Maybe you’ll finally get some clarity on how you’ve managed to make everything worse.”

“And you, Minthara,” you replied, “try not to let the weight of your own bitterness crush you before the ceremony.”

With a final huff, Minthara pushed past you and slammed her door shut with a resounding thud. You watched the door close, the sound reverberating through the corridor.

You turned and entered your own quarters, the room meticulously prepared with fine furnishings and dark, rich drapery. You paced the room restlessly, your anger giving way to an unsettling sense of emptiness.

Lying on the bed, you stared up at the ceiling, your mind racing with thoughts of the looming ceremony. The more you tried to focus on anything but Minthara, the more her absence became a palpable void. The bed felt too large, the space too empty.

Meanwhile, in her own quarters, Minthara was equally restless. She paced her room, the luxurious furnishings and the meticulously arranged décor doing little to soothe her frayed nerves. The silence of her room was as unnerving as it was lonely. You weren't muttering your prayers, indulging in an absurdly long night time routine. Despite her irritation, she couldn’t shake the feeling of missing something—or rather, someone.

Eventually, both of you found yourselves lying awake in your respective beds, staring at the ceiling, the quiet of the night amplifying your thoughts and frustrations. The realization dawned that despite the heated bickering, there was a certain sense of connection and familiarity that had been strangely comforting. The absence of that presence was felt deeply, and meditation eluded both of you as you grappled with your thoughts.

The night had dragged on with restless thoughts and a growing sense of unease. Exhaustion finally overcame you, and you slipped into a meditative trance, hoping for some respite before the impending ceremony. In the quiet of the room, you found a semblance of peace, the rhythmic rise and fall of your breath guiding you towards a state of calm.

Just as you were beginning to drift into a deeper state of relaxation, the serenity was shattered by the loud creak of your door. You jolted awake, blinking against the sudden influx of light and noise. The door swung open to reveal a flurry of movement as a group of young girls, no older than fourteen or fifteen, stormed into the room. Their chatter and giggles filled the air, a cacophony of youthful exuberance that was anything but peaceful.

The girls, dressed in colorful and somewhat mismatched garments, scattered around the room, dropping various items on the floor and chattering excitedly. They carried brushes, jars of oils, and an assortment of fabric, which they began to arrange haphazardly around the room.

Kyorlin and Lesaonar entered behind them, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. You looked at them, bewildered.

“By the demon's web, what is going on?” you demanded, struggling to sit up against the tangle of blankets and pillows.

The twins exchanged glances before Kyorlin shrugged nonchalantly. “We have no idea. We were just told to bring them to you.”

One of the servants who had entered with the girls stepped forward, offering an apologetic smile. “As Matron Baenre understands that you have no female relatives to assist you, she has sent these girls to help you get ready for the ceremony. It’s her way of ensuring you’re properly prepared.”

The realization hit you like a cold wave. This was no act of kindness or generosity; it was a clear attempt to pass off the unruly young girls onto you, so the Matron wouldn’t have to deal with them herself. It was a tactical move, a way of keeping them out of her hair while she focused on her own preparations.

The girls, oblivious to your annoyance, began to tug at your sleep garments and hair, their energy boundless. They giggled and chatted as they pulled at your clothes, chattering about hairstyles and makeup, their fingers too eager and too rough. It was clear that their idea of assistance was more chaotic than helpful.

Feeling a mix of frustration and desperation, you turned to Kyorlin and Lesaonar. “Can you two perhaps go and pray for me in the chapel? It seems I could use some divine intervention right now.”

Kyorlin and Lesaonar looked at each other, a smirk playing on their lips as they took in the scene before them.

“Pray for you?” Lesaonar echoed with a grin. “Or pray for a miracle to get us out of this madness?”

Kyorlin’s expression softened slightly. “We’ll go,” he said with a chuckle. “It seems like you could use some peace and quiet. We'll see you at the ceremony, dear sister.”

With that, they exited the room, leaving you to the chaotic whirlwind of young girls. As they bustled around you, their laughter and chatter gradually began to fade into the background of your mind. You were left to endure their relentless enthusiasm, trying to stay calm despite the overwhelming noise and activity.

The young girls swarmed around you with a flurry of questions, their voices rising in a cheerful, chaotic crescendo. They seemed to have no sense of personal space, their faces close to yours as they eagerly awaited your responses. You could barely keep up with their rapid-fire inquiries as they tugged at your garments and pushed various accessories into your hands.

“Where’s your wedding dress?” one of them asked, her eyes wide with excitement as she peered into the open wardrobe.

“How are you going to style your hair?” another chimed in, her fingers already brushing through your locks with the kind of enthusiasm that only a young girl could muster.

“Are you going to fight anyone during the ceremony?” asked a third, her face a mix of curiosity and awe.

“Are you going to use your powers?” the last girl queried, her eyes sparkling with a blend of admiration and anticipation.

You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure amidst the whirlwind of questions.

“My dress is being prepared by the seamstresses. As for my hair, well, I haven’t quite decided yet. I might leave it to the skilled hands of you young ladies.” You glanced at the older girls who were already starting to work on your hair, their excitement palpable. “And no, there won’t be any fighting during the ceremony. It’s all about unity and devotion. As for my powers, they’re not really part of the ceremony. They’re something I reserve for more pressing matters.”

The girls seemed somewhat satisfied with your answers, but their curiosity remained unabated. Their chatter continued, and you could see their faces lighting up with interest. In an effort to calm the scene and make the best of the situation, you decided to offer them a distraction.

“You know,” you began, your tone shifting to one of storytelling, “since you’re all so eager to know about me, how about I tell you a story while you do my hair?”

The girls’ eyes widened with delight, and they all gathered closer, their attention now fully focused on you allowing the older girls to work on your hair with less chaos.

“Alright, let me tell you about the time I had to go to the surface.” You began, weaving your tale with an air of intrigue.

“It was years ago,” you continued, “when I was sent on a mission to the surface world. Everyone says the surface is a terrible place, filled with danger and discomfort, and I’ll admit, I had my doubts. The light up there—oh, it’s so harsh and blinding compared to our soft, ambient glow. And the air, so dry and warm. It felt like walking through a blazing inferno.”

The girls gasped, clearly captivated by your description. One of them, with wide eyes, asked, “Was it as bad as they say it is?”

You nodded solemnly. “At first, it was overwhelming. The sun burned my skin, and I had to be careful not to let the light blind me. The surface world is a place of harsh contrasts compared to the Underdark. But I managed to survive by staying in the shadows as much as possible and using my knowledge of the surface’s geography to navigate through it. It’s a different kind of danger, one that requires patience and cunning.”

Another girl, clearly intrigued, asked, “How did you manage to stay safe?”

“I had to be very cautious,” you explained. “I used cloaking spells to hide from prying eyes and relied on my wits to avoid the more dangerous creatures of the surface. I even learned a few tricks to blend in with the surface-dwellers, though that wasn’t always easy. The key was to adapt and use every bit of knowledge I had to my advantage.”

The girls listened intently, their previous frenzy momentarily forgotten as they absorbed your tale. Their hands worked diligently through your hair, carefully arranging it as they listened to your story with rapt attention.

“So, you survived all of that?” one of them asked, awe in her voice.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a nod. “And I returned with a deeper understanding of the surface world. It’s not as simple as the stories make it out to be, but it’s not entirely the nightmare some say it is either. It’s a world full of challenges, but also of opportunities.”

The girls exchanged impressed glances, clearly impressed by your resilience and resourcefulness. Their chatter slowed as they focused on their task, and you could see the newfound respect in their eyes.

As the girls finished arranging your hair, their lively chatter slowly faded, replaced by a more subdued and focused energy. The transformation in the room was palpable; the earlier chaos had been replaced by an air of contented productivity.

Just then, a servant entered the room, carrying a beautifully wrapped bundle. The girls’ eyes immediately widened with curiosity, and they gathered around the servant as he carefully unwrapped the bundle to reveal your wedding dress.

A collective gasp of admiration escaped from the girls as they saw the dress. They circled around it, their faces lit up with awe and delight. “Oh, it’s so beautiful!” one of them exclaimed, her voice full of wonder.

“It looks so elegant!” another girl chimed in, her eyes sparkling.

Their enthusiastic reactions warmed your heart. It was clear that they were genuinely impressed, and it was a comforting change from the earlier frustration and chaos. You couldn’t help but smile at their genuine appreciation, feeling a sense of connection with these young, spirited girls.

The servant, noticing the girls’ fascination, cleared his throat to get their attention. “Ladies, you need to leave now. We have other preparations to attend to, and you must be ready to greet the guests soon.”

The girls, though reluctant, knew better than to argue. They cast one last longing look at the dress before reluctantly shuffling toward the door. “We’ll miss you!” one of them said, her voice tinged with sadness.

“See you at the ceremony!” another added, giving you a bright smile before exiting the room.

Once they were gone, the room seemed quieter, their youthful energy having left an almost palpable mark. You stood by the mirror, taking in your reflection. The sense of camaraderie you had shared with the girls lingered, making you feel unexpectedly lighter.

Now the girls were gone, the servant held the dress up to you. "It is time."

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The grand hall of House Baenre was a magnificent spectacle of dark elegance. The rich crimson and obsidian banners draped from the walls, their opulent fabric catching the flickering light of the many torches. A hushed reverence hung in the air, only heightened by the murmurs of the elite of Menzoberranzan who had gathered to witness the grand wedding ceremony.

At the altar, Minthara stood like a figure from a dark legend. She was clad in her ceremonial regalia—a striking blend of armor and finery that showcased her status and power. Her dress was an elaborate piece of art, a seamless fusion of practicality and splendor. The armor was adorned with intricate patterns of red and black, the colors of House Baenre, and it accentuated her commanding presence. The armor, polished to a high sheen, caught the light in a way that emphasized her formidable and fierce demeanor.

Minthara’s light purple skin contrasted sharply with the dark fabric of her attire, giving her an ethereal, almost otherworldly appearance. Her white hair was styled meticulously, cascading in silken waves down her back and framing her sharp, striking features. The house Baenre sigil was emblazoned across her neck in a bold tattoo, a mark of her dominance and heritage. It was impossible to ignore the intense gaze she cast over the assembled guests, a mix of pride and cold calculation in her eyes.

The High Priestess and the acolyte stood beside Minthara at the altar, both figures imposing in their own right. The High Priestess, with her elaborate robes of dark violet and silver, held a commanding presence that matched the gravity of the occasion. Her ornate staff, topped with a symbol of Lolth, rested beside her, its presence a reminder of the divine power that governed the ceremony.

The guests—elite members of Menzoberranzan society—filled the seats, their whispers creating a low murmur of anticipation. They were the crème de la crème of drow society, their attire as elaborate as the occasion demanded. The front row was reserved for your family, though it was glaringly empty apart from Kyorlin and Lesaonar.

The moment arrived with the soft sound of the chamber doors opening, revealing you in all your ceremonial splendor. The room fell into an awed silence as you began your walk up the aisle, every step measured and graceful, drawing the collective gaze of the assembly.

You were enveloped in a dress that seemed to transcend mortal craftsmanship. The fabric, a delicate blend of shimmering silk and ethereal spiderweb patterns, clung to your form with an almost otherworldly elegance. It was as though Lolth herself had spun a cocoon around you, the silk’s iridescent sheen reflecting the candlelight and casting a faint, ghostly glow around you. The dress flowed behind you like a silken waterfall, trailing behind you in a whisper of movement that seemed both fluid and majestic.

Your hair was styled with meticulous precision, two sharp curls cascaded down the sides of your face. These curled strands were reminiscent of spider pincers, framing your features in a way that emphasized your otherworldly beauty. The rest of your hair was pulled back, accentuating the intricate work of the dress and the delicate silver adornments that accentuated your collarbone.

Silver spider legs were strategically placed along your body, their intricate design accentuating the curves and lines of your form. Two legs arched beneath your collarbone, glinting subtly as they caught the light. Another set adorned the curve of your bust, emphasizing the elegance of your silhouette, while additional sets traced your hips and thighs, creating a cascading effect that drew the eye and added a touch of both elegance and danger.

The glossy finish of your makeup made your red eyes stand out with a fierce intensity, their piercing gaze capturing the attention of everyone present.

As you made your way up the aisle, Minthara’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in a mixture of awe and admiration, her typically composed demeanor momentarily faltering as she took in the sight of you. You looked like a divine gift from Lolth herself, a vision of beauty and power that left her momentarily breathless.

Your approach was marked by the soft, almost melodic swish of your dress and the respectful silence of the assembled guests. Minthara’s eyes followed you with an intensity that spoke of both reverence and longing, her own fierce beauty momentarily overshadowed by your ethereal presence.

The High Priestess and the acolyte observed the entrance with approving nods, the former's stern expression softening just a fraction. The ceremony had now reached its pinnacle, with you as the centerpiece, a radiant embodiment of Lolth’s favor.

The grand hall was bathed in the flickering glow of countless candles, their flames dancing in the hushed reverence of the ceremony. With a solemn nod, the High Priestess raised her arms, her voice resonating through the hall as she began the ancient prayer to Lolth. The chant was a haunting melody, woven with words of devotion and supplication, invoking the favor of the Spider Queen upon the union about to be sealed.

You stood beside Minthara, your gaze fixed ahead, though you could feel her intense stare burning into you. A slight, almost imperceptible smile touched your lips as you tried to maintain your composure under the weight of her scrutiny.

The High Priestess concluded the prayer and turned her attention to the next phase of the ceremony: the binding blood vow. The acolyte stepped forward, presenting a ceremonial dagger with an ornate hilt. The dagger’s blade glinted ominously in the candlelight as it was passed to the High Priestess.

The High Priestess took the dagger and approached you. With precise, practiced movements, she made a shallow cut on your palm, the pain sharp but brief. The blood that welled up was immediately captured by the High Priestess, who then turned to Minthara. She made a similar incision on Minthara’s palm.

The words of the vow began to echo through the hall, the High Priestess guiding you both as you repeated the ancient promises of loyalty to each other and to House Baenre. You vowed not only your fidelity to the house but also a solemn promise to never bring harm to each other, pledging to protect and uphold the sanctity of your union.

As you spoke the words, you noticed a sudden and alarming change in Minthara’s demeanor - and not just the grimace from swearing she would never be able to bring harm against you. Her face grew pale, and a look of weakness and disorientation crossed her features. It was as if a wave of illness had washed over her, and she swayed slightly on her feet.

Instinctively, you reached out and grasped Minthara’s hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. The mingling of your blood, open wound on open wound, had an immediate effect. Minthara’s pallor quickly faded, and her strength seemed to return as the warmth of her body stabilized.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of the acolyte’s face. There was a momentary flicker of something sinister in her expression before they quickly masked it with a neutral demeanor. You gripped Minthara's hand reassuringly, but were just met with her narrowed accusatory eyes, whatever had just happened was evidenlty your fault somehow.

The ceremony continued, with the High Priestess’s gaze flickering between you and Minthara, noting the strange turn of events but choosing to proceed with the rites regardless, you believe she was just happy that you both made it there alive. Your shared blood dripped from each other's palms, landing in the alter below, as it fell it pooled and spread into Lolth's insignia, a sign of approval.

After what felt like an age the binding blood vow was complete, a rush of sharp magic danced across each of your palms as you flinched away from each other, only to realise your wounds had both been healed. Servants attended to you both, ensuring that you were cleaned up and presentable.

"Now, for Y/N Liakyre to shed herself from the past, and embrace her new future as Mistress Y/N Baenre, Wife of Matron Minthara Baenre." The high priestess announced and an involuntary shiver racked through you, you were not looking forward to this. Mainly as Minthara would be the one slicing your beloved House mark from your skin, and considering she thought you just tried to poison her, you were certain she was going to be anything but quick about it.

The ceremony continued with a palpable sense of anticipation hanging in the air. The High Priestess’s announcement rang out clearly, declaring the next phase of the ritual. “Now, for Y/N Liakyre to shed herself from the past and embrace her new future as Mistress Y/N Baenre, Wife of Matron Minthara Baenre.”

A shiver ran through you, a blend of apprehension and anticipation. You knew what was coming—Minthara, the one you were still getting to know, would be the one to remove your house sigil. The thought of her performing this act, particularly under the shadow of the recent incident, filled you with unease. You had braced yourself for an uncomfortable ordeal, expecting the worst given the tension between you.

To your surprise, however, Minthara approached you with an unexpected gentleness. Her eyes, though guarded, were soft as she prepared to perform the task. The intricate dagger she held, - her personal favourite, you noted - glinted ominously in the candlelight, but her touch was surprisingly delicate.

Minthara’s hand was steady as she positioned the blade near your wrist. Her fingers, though firm, were careful as they traced the outline of your House Liakyre sigil. You felt the cold metal of the dagger as it made contact with your skin, but instead of the anticipated pain, her movements were precise and controlled. There was an almost reassuring quality to her touch.

As the blade began its work, Minthara leaned in slightly, her breath warm against your ear. “I will make this as swift and painless as possible,” she murmured, her voice a low whisper that carried both assurance and an unexpected tenderness.

The edge of the dagger sliced through the skin with an efficiency that took you by surprise. Despite the sting of the incision, Minthara’s soft praise was oddly comforting.

Once the sigil was completely severed from your skin, Minthara gripped the wound with one hand, her touch surprisingly soothing. You could feel the warmth of her magic as she began the healing process. The sensation of her healing spell was like a gentle wave washing over you, numbing the pain and closing the wound.

As the healing magic worked, Minthara's other hand moved to your neck. With a deliberate, yet gentle motion, she traced the Baenre sigil onto your skin. Her touch was careful and meticulous, her nail guiding the sigil’s shape with an almost artistic precision. The sensation was both hot and cold—a duality that made you wince but also marvel at the intensity of the moment.

The sigil burned into your skin with a searing warmth, and you could not help but flinch slightly, even though you tried to remain still. Minthara’s face was close to yours, her gaze intense as she focused on her task. When she finished, she inspected the mark closely, her expression a blend of satisfaction and relief.

As she pulled away, your eyes locked with hers, and in that moment, something shifted between you. You hadn't realised it but you were holding her hand that she had just healed you with, a connection that felt both intimate and profound. The urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming, a sudden, unspoken understanding passing between the both of you.

Before you could act on the impulse, the High Priestess’s voice cut through the charged silence. “Now that the mark is complete,” she announced with a tone of finality, “let us proceed with the final rites of the ceremony. The toast.”

The intrusion of the High Priestess’s voice shattered the moment, and you and Minthara were abruptly reminded of the ritualistic nature of the event. You quickly withdrew your hand from Minthara’s, trying to steady your breathing and regain composure. Minthara cleared her throat as if she had not been victim to the same fleeting feelings as you.

As you and Minthara turned toward the altar, the final stage of the ceremony was upon you: the toast. The High Priestess, with a solemn expression, raised her goblet high and addressed the assembly with practiced grace.

“Let us now toast to the union of House Baenre and their newest member, Mistress Y/N Baenre. May this bond be as strong as the webs spun by Lolth herself, and may their loyalty to each other and to House Baenre be unwavering.”

The audience responded with elated cheers, their eyes fixed on you and Minthara. The atmosphere was thick with expectation as the High Priestess gestured for you both to take your goblets.

You and Minthara exchanged a knowing glance, your previous unspoken connection now tempered by the ceremonial formalities. The goblets, adorned with intricate patterns and filled with a dark, almost ominous liquid, were a focal point of the final rite. The contents imbued with Menzoberranzan love magic.

Minthara’s lips curled into a smirk as she looked at you, her eyes gleaming with challenge. She lifted her goblet, her movements deliberate and poised, and with a defiant glint in her eye, she downed the contents in one swift motion. The crowd watched in anticipation, their cheers momentarily hushed as they awaited your response.

You met her smirk with a challenging look of your own. Taking a deep breath, you raised your own goblet, feeling the weight of the ritual and the gaze of the onlookers. With a final, resolute glance at Minthara, you followed suit and drank the contents in one go. The liquid slid down your throat, its taste oddly unremarkable despite the grandiose of its magical properties.

As the last drop of the goblet was consumed, a cheer erupted from the audience, their enthusiasm a stark contrast to the tension that had lingered between you and Minthara. The High Priestess’s face remained inscrutable as she nodded in approval, and the formalities of the ceremony drew to a close.

In a moment of shared understanding, you leaned in toward Minthara, and she responded with a confident yet tender kiss. The crowd’s cheers swelled, their applause growing louder as the kiss deepened. It was a brief but meaningful display of unity, a symbolic gesture that marked the beginning of your life together. As you both pulled away, your eyes locked, the tension of the earlier ceremony now mingled with the thrill of the new chapter ahead.

With a nod to each other, Minthara took your hand and led you towards the grand banquet hall. The room was adorned with opulent decorations, the feast laid out on long tables that gleamed with silver and crystal. The air was filled with the rich scents of exotic dishes and the buzz of conversation.

As you entered the hall, your gaze fell upon your brothers, who were seated among the guests. They caught your eye and offered you warm smiles, their faces reflecting a genuine sense of pride and joy. The sight was reassuring, a small island of familiarity amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Nearby, the young girls who had helped you earlier were eagerly waving at you from their seats. You smiled back at them and gave a playful wave, their excitement evident as they responded with enthusiastic giggles and cheers. It was a comforting sight, a reminder of the bonds you had managed to forge even in the midst of such a formal and intimidating occasion.

Minthara led you to the head of the banquet hall, where a line of guests was already forming to offer their congratulations and present you with gifts. The well-wishers approached one by one, each one bowing respectfully and offering their tributes. The atmosphere was filled with a blend of festivity and formality, the air thick with the scent of rich foods and the murmur of polite conversation.

Amid the bustling crowd, you noticed that the acolyte from the ceremony had slipped away from the banquet. A sense of unease prickled at the back of your mind, and you excused yourself from the line of well-wishers with a polite but hurried apology.

“I must give my thanks to Lolth for the ceremony,” you said, your voice steady but urgent. “I will be back shortly.”

Minthara gave you a curious look but nodded in understanding. “Don’t be long,” she instructed, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution.

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You made your way swiftly to the chapel, the grand archways and shadowed corners of the sacred space offering a stark contrast to the celebratory chaos of the banquet. As you approached the altar, you saw the acolyte kneeling in despair, her head bowed and her hands clasped in a desperate plea for mercy. Her soft sobs echoed through the empty chapel, the sanctity of the space amplifying the depth of her distress.

A smirk touched your lips as you approached, your footsteps echoing ominously. The acolyte’s head snapped up at the sound, her tear-streaked face reflecting shock and anger as she recognized you.

“I cannot imagine Lolth will be forgiving to the one who tried to poison her favored on the day of their union,” you said with a cold satisfaction. The words seemed to land heavily, deepening the acolyte’s rage.

“How did you survive?” she demanded, her voice a harsh whisper, trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “How did both of you survive? That blade was coated in Purple Worm Toxin; as soon as it drew blood, the effects should have taken hold immediately.”

"Evidently, House Baenre-"

"-House Baenre!” she spat out, her voice laced with venom. “I hate them all! They destroyed my family. Minthara killed my sister on a whim, and my house fell because of her cruelty. I was sent here to exact revenge, to see House Baenre's ruin!”

You listened with a mix of cold detachment and grim understanding. The animosity and vendetta against House Baenre were clear, but you had little sympathy for her plight. Your position as Mistress of House Baenre meant you had to uphold the dignity and power of your new house. Her vendetta was irrelevant to you now; she was a threat that needed to be dealt with.

“You failed,” you said, your voice steely. “And as Mistress of House Baenre, I am obligated to ensure that all transgressions are punished. However, I doubt I’ll get there before Lolth herself. That doesn’t mean I can’t offer some assistance.”

Before the acolyte could fully comprehend what was happening, you began to weave a cocoon of divine silk around her. The shimmering threads encased her body, the silken strands gliding effortlessly as they bound her tightly. Her struggles against the cocoon were futile, the threads forming a firm and unyielding prison.

With the cocoon fully formed, you turned your gaze upward to the statue of Lolth. The statue’s eyes, previously dim and lifeless, suddenly flared with a deep, crimson glow. The eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness of the chapel, signaling the goddess’s presence.

A small smile graced your lips and in a flash of blinding light, the cocoon began to tremble and writhe. The divine silk glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light as the acolyte’s form within the cocoon began to twist and contort. A cacophony of harsh, bone cracking sounds filled the chapel, the process of transformation a brutal and unsettling spectacle.

The cocoon’s surface split open, revealing the acolyte’s body undergoing a grotesque metamorphosis. Her limbs elongated and twisted, her form shifting into that of a drider—half-drow, half-spider. The transformation was violent, marked by a series of inhuman cries and the sound of tearing flesh.

As the final touches of the transformation took place, a portal of shimmering web appeared above the altar. The drider, now fully transformed, was dragged upwards by the force of the web, struggling against its constraints but ultimately powerless to resist.

The portal drew the drider into its depths, vanishing into the dark expanse of the Underdark. The last sight of the acolyte was a flash of horrified eyes and twisted limbs before it was completely absorbed by the portal.

You watched with a mixture of resolve and cold satisfaction as the portal closed, sealing the drider's fate. The chapel fell silent once more, the only sound being the distant echoes of the banquet hall. You slowly albeit with great difficulty due to the restrcitve dress, kneeled infront of the statue and clasped your hands in prayer.

The dim light of the chapel flickered as you approached the grand statue of Lolth, her visage looming large and commanding in the sacred space. The flickering flames of the nearby torches cast eerie shadows, creating an atmosphere both reverent and charged with divine energy.

You fell to your knees on the cold, polished stone floor, your posture embodying both respect and solemnity. The weight of the evening’s events settled upon you, and with deep breaths, you centered yourself, preparing to offer a prayer worthy of the Spider Queen. You lowered your head and closed your eyes, focusing all your energy and intent on the divine presence before you.

In a voice both steady and reverent, you began:

“Most Glorious and Resplendent Lolth, Queen of Spiders, Matron of the Underdark, hear the words of your devoted descendent.”

“Great Mistress, it is with deepest gratitude and unwavering devotion that I come before you in this sacred place. I offer my thanks for your boundless favor, which guided my ancestral aasimar, Liakyre, from the treacherous embrace of her mother Eilistraee, and into the welcoming web of your dark grace.”

“O Divine One, you who nurtured and raised her as your own, you who allowed her bloodline to continue and for House Liakyre to ascend, I beseech you to acknowledge my humble gratitude. Though the house now lies fallen, its legacy persists within the fervent fire of this descendent’s heart.”

“May the blood of Liakyre, whose blood now courses through me, burn brightly and unyieldingly as I take up the mantle of Mistress of House Baenre. Empower me to honor the past, to uphold the strength of our bloodline, and to fulfill the sacred duties entrusted to me by your will.”

“Grant me, O Lolth, your divine blessing as I forge ahead into the future, carrying forth the traditions of your dark and eternal house. Let your gaze remain upon me, a guiding light in the shadows, as I serve House Baenre with loyalty and fervor and continue Liakyre's legacy through them.”

With each word, the sense of the divine grew stronger, the statue’s eyes seeming to glimmer with an otherworldly light. The ambient light in the chapel seemed to intensify, focusing on the statue’s form as if Lolth herself were acknowledging your prayer.

With a final bow of your head, you left the chapel, the sense of divine favor still tingling at your fingertips. The grandeur of the banquet hall greeted you as you emerged, the sounds of celebration and the clamor of the crowd filling the air with vibrant energy. The guests, a mélange of the elite and powerful from Menzoberranzan, erupted into cheers as you re-entered the hall.

The atmosphere was electric with excitement. You made your way to Minthara, who was surrounded by well-wishers and offering polite nods and pleasantries. As you approached, her sharp eyes fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“What was that about, Y/N?” Minthara asked, her voice low yet demanding. “The High Priestess mentioned something about you and the acolyte. I need to know what happened.”

You offered her a reassuring smile, knowing that any explanation now would only add to the evening’s complexity. “I’ll tell you later,” you said smoothly. “For now, I could really use a drink.”

Without waiting for a response, you reached for her wine glass, taking it from her hand with a quick, deft motion. Minthara’s eyes widened in surprise as you took a long, deliberate sip of the wine, savoring the rich, intoxicating flavor.

Minthara’s protest died in her throat, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched you with a mix of amusement and frustration. She looked as if she were about to speak, but the moment was abruptly interrupted as you leaned in and pulled her into a passionate kiss. The suddenness and intensity of the kiss seemed to catch her off guard, but she quickly responded, her arms wrapping around you as she returned the kiss with equal fervor.

When the kiss finally broke, you pulled away, your lips lingering on hers for a heartbeat longer. You could see the desire in her eyes, a fire that matched your own. With a playful smirk, you murmured, “Must be the Menzoberranzan love magic in the wine from the toast.”

Minthara’s eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and amusement. “Is that so?” she replied, her voice dripping with a teasing challenge.

Before she could respond further, the crowd’s cheers and laughter seemed to rise around you, drawing the attention back to the festivities. You took her hand, guiding her through the throng of guests, ready to embrace the rest of the evening's revelry. You felt a high like no other, your family may be 6ft under, but you were now mistress of the most powerful House in Menzoberranzen, you had just seen Lolth turn a once devoted acolyte into a drider because of her transgressions against you. Oh the night was young, and you intended to enjoy every moment of it.

Part Five

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Ooof this was a long one but I have been feeling so rotten lately (I'm on so many antibiotics and meds rn lmaoooo) and this is my comfort fic to write.

Finally have revealed how reader has her powers, and for clarity, I'm headcanoning that Eilistraee had aasimar children and one of them fell and Lolth took full advantage of that.

Hope you all enjoyed it, let me know what you think in the comments below or in my inbox. Love you all - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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@mimetoist @thepotatoislost @needyformilfs @longjohnsilverfish @spacezombiez @morganaspet @wineredsea

If you want to be in the taglist just comment down below xox

[glutengoblin]

IM DESPERATE! Please i beg of you…i have yet to see a patronus fic!

Sebastian x fem mc? And seb and mc learn the patronus charm with Hecat? And Seb later realizes that his patronus is the same as mc’s? Because he loves and cares for her like Snape with Lily. Just some fluff and confessions whatever you choose.

Hi Friend!! Thank you so much for the request and apologies for the delay.

So I may have changed the idea a bit, since your idea got the cogs turning in my head... I hope it's okay! Not my best work, but I wanted to take a stab at it.

(PS: Fun fact, my patronus is rat. Don't ask me why, I have no clue)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None!

Sebastian felt more nervous than usual sitting next to Y/N in class. Although he knew that his face would never betray him, he could never be too sure. This class was perhaps the closest he’d get to accidentally admitting his love for his best friend.

Though Sebastian had be in love with her since the fifth year and the fateful day that they took down a troll together in Hogsmeade, he had yet to admit his feelings to her. He wasn’t Gryffindor, so why would anyone expect him to be brave?

Ominis certainly expressed his distaste for the way Sebastian went about things. He often pointed out that Sebastian appeared to have no issues flirting with Y/N, so he didn’t understand why making the jump to asking her on a date was so difficult.

To Sebastian, however, it was difficult. In fact, the jump seemed worse than trying to jump over the entire Grand Canyon. The risk that their whole friendship could be ruined if he chose to admit his feelings was too great. He couldn’t imagine a life without her in it, even if only as a friend.Thus, he sat next to y/n in DADA, usually quiet as Hecat explained that they would be learning how to cast a Patronus that day.

His skin turned clammy as she explained that sometimes if someone loved someone enough, their Patronus could become the same as their beloved. He had previously known all this information, but hearing it out loud, especially from Hecat, just cemented the idea in his mind. Thankfully, Y/N didn’t seem to notice all the blood that had drained from Sebastian’s face. Rather, she just looked excited about learning a new spell, a trait she hadn’t stopped exhibiting since she first set foot instead Hogwarts almost 2 years ago to the day.

Sebastian tried his best not to look like he wanted to run. Trying to plan what the best course of action would be was difficult, especially when he couldn’t just bolt out of class.

Thankfully for Sebastian, he already knew what his Patronus was - a fox - and he had known since 4th year. Back then, he decided to learn how to cast one after finding a random book in the library that was much too advanced for his level of magic; it was a often occurrence, much to Ominis’s dismay. Per usual, Sebastian had stolen away the book to the undercroft until he could cast the spell perfectly, a silver fox enjoying hiding between the many crates that were stacked hapzardly in the corners.

Sebastian, trying his best to think on his feet, decided that the best course of action was to insist that she try to cast a Patronus first. After all, this was Y/N he was thinking about. Given she was certainly the most powerful witch in their year, and most likely ever, there was no way that she would have trouble casting one on the first try.

Once Hecat told them to break up into pairs, Sebastian turned to Y/N flashing her a small smile. “How about you go first - I don’t feel like being embarrassed by my inability to cast one quite yet.” Y/N quirked an eyebrow at that, studying his face.

“What do you mean? Have you tried to cast one before?” Sebastian looked down at the table, trying his best to turn his look of nervousness into one that could pass off as embarrassment.

“Yes, actually. During 4th year, Ominis and I found a book about Patronuses. We both tried to cast one. I never could - tried again a couple of months ago and still couldn’t.” Sebastian felt the sweat pooling at his collar, hoping that she couldn’t see through the white lie. Honestly, it was the best that he could come up with when put on the spot. Thankfully, Y/N seemed to buy it, offering him a small smile in return.

I’m sure you’ll get it eventually! You just need to practice.” Sebastian nodded a little too quickly in agreement, before prompting her to get on with her practice. Y/N took one more look at him, offering a kind smile, before turning towards the front of the class and closing her eyes.

The thought passed over Sebastian’s consciousness for only a second, wondering what her happiest memory was. However, that was short-lived as a silvery creature erupted from her wand. For a moment, Sebastian was in awe. The feeling quickly turned to immense worry as he realized her patronus was none other than a fox.

When Sebastian turned to look at her, the smile on her face was massive. She turned to look at him, the joy evident in her eyes. “Look Sebastian! I did it!” He smiled weakly at her, nodding his head.

“T-That… That you did.”

“Now it's your turn!” She exclaimed as she tucked her wand into the pocket of her robe, the fox disappearing into the mist. Sebastian pulled on his collar a bit, feeling much too hot. He knew that there was no way to get out of this without at least pretending to cast a Patronus, so he tried to think of the least happy memory he could. Pulling out his wand, he pretended to cast it. To his relief, some silvery sparks shot out, but nothing of substance. He quickly shrugged, putting his wand away as he turned to meet Y/N’s disappointed expression.

“Well, I guess it just isn’t meant to be.” He laughed nervously, incredibly thankful when Hecat dismissed the class a moment later.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Sebastian felt like he had dogged a bullet, as he sat at the Slytherin table the next day. Y/N hadn’t found out about his feelings for her and thus everything could return to normal.

At least, he felt that relief until he saw a streak of (y/h/c) hair, running towards him like a mad woman. By the time she reached him, Y/N slammed her hands down on the Slytherin table hard enough to startle even Ominis. She looked out of breath, her hair sticky at odd angles that Sebastian would typically find rather endearing if he wasn’t so concerned about what this sudden rushed appearance was for.

“Hi beautiful- Did something happen?” Sebastian asked, honestly a bit concerned at her apparent urgency.

“I figured it out!” Sebastian's confusion grew a bit, as he noticed the large smile donned on her beautiful lips.

“Figured what out, exactly?”

“Why you can’t cast a patronus!” Sebastian felt the blood drain from his face yet again, his leg beginning to bounce nervously under the table. The sound from it was apparently loud enough that Ominis felt the need to place a hand on it, trying to stop the movement.

“What do you mean… you figured out why I can’t cast a patronus?” Y/N offered him an excited smile, nearly bouncing in place, practically matching the pace of his knee.

“You don’t have a happy enough memory that you can think of- You’re so brutish all the time it’s difficult for you to come up with something on the fly.” Sebastian tried his best not to look offended at the comment, as he shook his head.

“I don’t think that I’m that depressing all of the time-” Ominis cut him off a moment later.

“Yes Sebastian… You are. We all know it.” If Ominis could see, he would have witnessed the death glare of the century being shot in his direction. Y/N didn’t seem to pick up on their silent communication, the huge smile still covering her face. Sebastian shook his head at the girl, trying his best to act nonchalant.

“You really don’t need to go to all that trouble Y/N. As far as I’m concerned, I’m quite happy not being able to cast a patronus. Besides, I have a lot of studying to do today.” Y/N and Ominis both looked confused at that.

“It’s Saturday Sebastian… You hardly ever study on Saturday. Besides, I know for a fact you don’t have any exams next week. So, therefore you’re going to Hogsmeade with me! Meet me in an hour out in the viaduct courtyard.

With that, Y/N skipped off and Sebastian let out a deep sigh. He realized then that there was absolutely no way he was getting out of this.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

One ice cream, two butter beers, and a pack of every flavored beans later, Sebastian was very full and very conflicted. On one hand, he had greatly enjoyed having this dedicated time to spend with Y/N. On the other, he was growing ever more nervous, knowing that with each passing hour their return to the castle was imminent, along with her “lesson” on casting a Patronus. But, he tried not to focus on that at the moment as the two strolled along at a comfortable pace, inhaling the crisp autumnal air.

“So, are you enjoying yourself yet?” Y/N flashed him a warm smile, one that made him question if lying to her was ever the appropriate thing to do.

“I think so. It’s definitely been a nice change of pace for the day.” Y/N frowned slightly at that, the wheels turning in her head.

“Well… I was looking for it to be the best day. But I suppose I really didn’t try that hard, did I?” Sebastian shrugged slightly, shivering a bit as a stray breeze brushed the back of his exposed neck.

“I mean, I had fun. I’m not really sure what else we could do on such short notice.” Y/N’s frown grew bigger, as the cobblestones beneath her feet suddenly became very interesting. Sebastian bristled a bit, worried that he had perhaps said the wrong thing. Eventually, Y/N did look up and meet his gaze again - but this time, with one of her sly smiles. It was the type of smile that said she had hatched a new plan. Sebastian gulped, honestly worried that perhaps she would catch on eventually that he was trying to get out of it. “What’s that look for?”

“How about we do something else you like? Wanna go fight a troll? Break up a camp of poachers… maybe even goblins?” Sebastian shook his head almost too quickly. As much as he loved getting to test out his dueling skills, he was worried that this was going a bit to far. Besides, he’d rather not put her in danger to just to try and make him ‘happy’.

“I think it might be best if we just head back to the castle now. Like I said, I have some studying to do and I really need to get started on my 6 inches of parchment for-” Y/N’s look cut him off from rambling, as if she could see right through his excuses.

“Did you forget about practicing your Patronus? If we head back now, hopefully in an hour we should be done and you can get back to that studying time you apparently so desperately need.” Sebastian let out a defeated sigh as he followed her down the path, back toward Hogwarts, dried leaves crunching beneath their feet.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Y/N had decided that the room of requirement would be the perfect place to practice. After pushing some of the furniture that was so very her off to the side, she stood in front of Sebastian, studying his form intently. Sebastian flushed under her gaze, trying to not let it affect him as much as it did. Once Y/N had determined everything was perfect, she walked over to stand by Sebastian’s side, facing the same direction as him.

“Alright, give it a go!” Sebastian fought the urge to squirm, as he tried his best to think of his most uncomfortable memories again — a few stray silver wisps shot from his wand, but nothing substantial. It was all he could do to not release a sigh of relief at the sight, as he quickly moved to stuff his wand in his pocket.

“Well! I guess that’s that, no Patronus’s for me!” He turned on his heel a little too quickly, fighting the urge to make a run for the door. Y/N quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, Sebastian stilling at the touch before glancing at her.

“Not so fast their solider. I know you can get it.” She offered him an encouraging smile, and Sebastian knew he was damned. He let out a sigh, turning around again, raising his wand to try and again. Expect this time, he felt the gentle caress of her hands on his foreman and shoulder. She was holding him in the correct form that Hecat had demonstrated. Sebastian felt his skin burn at the touch, willing his heartbeat to slow down out of the fear that she may be able to hear it. “There, that’s the right pose. Relax, you’re so tense…” She positioned his shoulders down a bit, into a more relaxed form. Sebastian gulped, knowing that with her touching him - something he had craved for such a long time - he couldn’t possibly think of uncomfortable memories now.

Thus, he cast the spell, squeezing his eyes shut once he saw the playful fox erupt from the tip of his wand. To his dismay, he felt her hands remove themselves from him - a sign that she was certainly taking this negatively.

He took a couple more seconds to calm the anxiety blooming in his chest before he finally opened his eyes to look at her. To his surprise, she stood right next to him, a grin covering her face as she watched the fox leap around the room. She looked… happy? Certainly not the reaction that Sebastian expected.

“I knew it!” She exclaimed, causing Sebastian to freeze.

“You… You knew it?” She nodded vigorously, turning to face him directly.

“Well… At least I had a hunch. To be honest, I actually knew how to cast a Patronus before class this week. Professor Fig taught me in fifth year.” A slight wave of sadness passed over her features as she recalled her beloved mentor, but she quickly fought it away. “It used to be a rabbit. But when I saw it had changed in Hecat’s class… Well, I figured it changed to match yours.” Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up, as he studied her with confusion.

“I… Why would it match mine?” It was now her turn to flush at the question, her eyes refusing to meet his gaze and instead playing with the hem of her skirt.

“Well… Because I have feelings for you, Sebastian. I have for quite a while.” She offered him an uncharacteristically shy smile, studying his face for a reaction. “I’m sorry for pressuring you into casting a Patronus. I just… I wanted to make sure before I potentially did something to ruin our friendship.”

Sebastian looked so shocked that he could almost follow over. She had feelings? For him, nonetheless? His body acted before his brain could, as he suddenly reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into his chest, and hugging her tightly. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the butterflies in his stomach dancing rapidly.

“I… I have feelings for you too Y/N. I have since we brought down that troll together in Hogsmeade if I’m being quite honest.” To his dismay, he felt her shift slightly in his arms. She looked up at him, mere inches away from his face, her gaze traveling down to his lips.

“Well, I’m glad to hear the sentiment is returned. Now, would it perhaps be too much to ask you to get on with it and kiss me now? As much as I appreciate the confession I-” She didn’t get another syllable out before his lips crashed against hers, fulfilling the desire he had for years.

He couldn’t wait to personally write Hecat a thank you note for deciding to teach them how to cast a Patronus.

[updownlately]

i like shiny things (but i'd marry you with paper rings)

randomly thinking about esme morgan and how she made bracelets for the engwnt during their down time and just picturing a reader x alessia where r does origami when they're anxious or in between games. idk if anyone's written this idea before so mb if it's repetitive (i feel like i read an origami-reader fic before but i believe it was with jessie fleming x r) not a fic, not a blurb, just an idea/storyline :) fun fact: an instagram reel prompted this 😅 | alessia russo x reader

~~~

like imagine the first time alessia walks into your shared hotel room to see a handful of paper cranes of different colours laid across the bed, your tongue poking out slightly, eyebrows furrowed as you had a website open on your phone showing you how to make a dragon.

and you're so concentrated you don't hear alessia come in, you just fiddle with the paper and let out a huff when you realize you have to unwind the folds you just did.

it's only when she clears her throat at you, still standing near the door that you snap out of what you're doing, eyes going wide, the dinosaur that looks more like a worm flying out of your hands.

and you'd look at her with an embarrassed look, quickly gathering the seven or so different paper cranes, bringing them towards your lap in a futile attempt to hide em, as alessia would watch you with a fond smile on her face.

or can we talk about how she'd quietly get you more origami paper the next time she goes out with the girls to explore the city, shyly coming back with a fresh pack of origami sheets, this time in pastel colours, shades you absolutely adored.

the way she'd enter the room anxiously, thumb playing with the ring on her finger as she'd hide the package behind her with her other hand, shoulder's curled in, skittish smile on her face.

how you'd wave her in, a huge smile on her face, not suspecting a thing as you chatted with your mother on the phone.

she'd maybe sit on the edge of the bed, a few feet away from you, the papers still hidden as you'd talk animatedly on the phone for a couple more minutes.

it's during that time that alessia would cast her gaze across the room, taking in how many different little paper creations, varying from flowers to cranes to butterflies to shapes like stars and hearts littered the room, smiling tenderly to herself.

and when you'd finish up the call, looking over at the blonde with a large grin on your face you'd already be excited by her mere presence, your golden retriever personality making itself known.

that grin would only grow wider as she would shuffle closer to you, the origami sheets still miraculously hidden (not hard to do really since all your focus was on alessia, your eyes nearly in the shape of a heart) and she'd give you a gentle kiss on your forehead and then lips, before pulling back shyly, the words quiet as they left her.

'i got you a little something...'

you'd tilt your head in question, a singular eyebrow raising as you'd finally notice how her other arm was somewhat awkwardly positioned behind her.

and you'd kind of tense up into a sitting position, concerned at what it could be.

'relax, it's nothing crazy, just a small little item i've been meaning to grab for you'

the words would be gentle, with a slight teasing lilt.

and she'd carefully present you the origami sheets, placing them on the sheet between you two, biting her lip nervously as she'd wait for a reaction.

your eyebrows would scrunch up immediately, hands reaching out to grab the plastic package, examining it as your jaw would drop in a pleasant mix of shock and joy.

and the way your eyes would widen as you'd read the text on around the item, the words 'origami paper' written clear as day, your heart feeling so full, warmth coursing through your veins as you'd realize that alessia had noticed your stack was running out, even going as far as to get them in colours you loved.

the papers would gently be thrown to the side as everything would click, you launching yourself at the blonde, arms coming to immediately wrap around her shoulders and neck as you'd bury your face in her neck.

your excited 'thank you' would be muffled with how tightly you were hugging her, your grin from earlier returning, only now it was nearly twice the size.

the blonde would chuckle gently at your delighted state, hugging you back with just as much enthusiasm, placing a gentle kiss to your temple just before you'd pull back, nearly shaking with elation.

placing a few loving kisses onto her lips you'd mumble another thank you in between them, pulling away once your couldn't contain your excitement.

and you'd rip into the new packaging, old papers be damned because your girlfriend got you these and they were immediately, undoubtedly the better papers now.

and eventually, as it would become time to check out of the hotel a few days later, alessia would find herself once again standing in the middle of the room, this time the whole room nearly taken over by butterflies, dragons (which you now finally mastered), toads, cranes, rabbits, stars, hearts, chains, and like twenty other things, some in various colours of the rainbow, and more than half of them made of the pastel origami sheets. (it was clear to see you had a favourite, evident by the way nearly half the pastel paper had already been used).

and then can we talk about how maybe you both would be coming back from a really tiring game, the whole engwnt sat on the bus, the two of you choosing to sit closer to the middle-front-ish area, alessia knowing you preferred the peace and quiet as you'd fold paper and calm down from the exhilarating events of the game.

so you'd sit there, a pair of wired earbuds shared between you two as the paper pad would be precariously balancing on your thighs, rattling with every bump and uneven surface of the road.

alessia would be sat beside you, watching you with a lovestruck face as you'd continue to do fold after fold, making something new this time, what it was, alessia didn't know, you wanting to surprise her.

what she did notice however was that you had two pieces of paper out, one that was her favourite colour, and one that was your favourite colour- surely that couldn't be a coincidence, right?

and as teammates saw you back at your usual task, very much accustomed to your tendency to relax by creating little items, they let you be, a few gently requesting you for a rabbit or dragon (stanway nearly begging you to make her dinosaur, pestering you until you had finally agreed with a quiet 'later' with a fond eye roll).

you'd been very much focused since though, head nodding along to the music, the familiar 'furrowed eyebrows' look on your face, tip of your tongue peeking out as you did meticulous fold after fold, tilting your body ever so slightly so alessia couldn't make out exactly what you were creating.

it was only when you were done, two small heart rings resting in the palm of your hand, one each in your and alessia's favourite colour, did you turn around, a bashful smile on your face as you hid the two papers in a loosely closed fist.

quickly scanning to make sure no one was watching, your fear of being teased for your sappiness emerging, your leg shook with nervous energy as you realized the coast was clear.

'i made you- us- i made us paper rings in our favourite colours.'

the words would come out slightly rushed, a soft blush coming to coat your cheeks as alessia's eyes widened in joyful shock,

'i'll get you a proper one eventually, this is just a promise of that in the meantime...'

and alessia would shrug at your words, a lovesick smile crossing her face as she'd examine the heart-shaped ring intently, absolutely adoring the way it rested on her hand, loving it more than any other jewellery she owned simply because it was made by you.

and placing the ring-clad hand up to rest on your cheek, the blonde would nudge you to look at her, bringing your faces close as she'd place a gentle but loving kiss on your lips, pulling back only a few centimetres as sky blue eyes would meet yours, her next words a whispered secret between you, eliciting twin smiles, lovestruck looks crossing both of your faces.

'as long as it's you i'm marrying, i'd happily do it with paper rings.'

[carefreecoffee]

Flufftober Day 28: Pumpkin patch w/ Izuku Midoriya

Word count: 1.4k, Female reader

As you and Izuku enter the pumpkin patch, the both of you look around in awe at the rows of bright orange gourds. “Whoa, this place is amazing!” izuku exclaims, eyes as big as saucers. 

You glance around at the beautiful scenery. Pumpkins lined up in rows as families surfaced around them. “I know right? This is the perfect weather for today” You look at him with a soft grin. He returns the smile, admiring your cheerful expression. “Let's go find the perfect pumpkin!” He reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, leading you further into the patch.

You walk down the rows, inspecting the different pumpkins. Some are large, some small, some oddly shaped, some perfectly round. Izuku’s eyes widen as he spots one that stands out among the rest. “Hey, look at this one! It's got a funny face!”

You look over at him curiously as he picks up the pumpkin, examining its quirky features. It has a goofy, lopsided smile carved into its surface and two tiny pebbles for eyes. 

“What do you think? Should we get this one?”

You chuckle at the unique features of the decorated pumpkin. “Haha you're right, he looks really funny for a pumpkin! You should totally get him” he chuckles, holding the pumpkin aloft with a grin. “Alright, it's official then! This goofy little guy is coming home with us.”

You reattach your hand with his. “Alright, now I just need to find one…” Izuku follows along as you start looking around for a pumpkin of your own. His eyes are drawn to one particular pumpkin that catches his eye. It's a medium-sized one, with a deep orange color, smooth surface, and a small stem on top. He pointed to the pumpkin. “How about that one? It looks pretty good.” 

You look over at the pumpkin he had been referencing. Your eyes slightly up as you pick it up gingerly. The pumpkin is surprisingly lightweight in your hands. You examine it closely, noticing its perfect shape and vibrant hue. 

“Woah this is like- the most perfect pumpkin ive ever seen!” You look back at him actually quite impressed. “You've got a good eye Izu!” 

He sent you a smile, admiring the way your eyes light up with excitement. “Of course I do! I was on the lookout for the perfect pumpkin for my perfect girlfriend, after all.” You head back to him with the pumpkin in hand, “You're too sweet, Izu” you intertwine your hand with his free one.

He squeezed your hand gently, continuing to walk through the pumpkin patch with the goofy-looking pumpkin in his free hand. “And you're too cute.” You continue to wander through the patch, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. The sound of rustling leaves and distant chatter create a soothing background music as you wandered the rows. He glances over at you, taking in your cheerful expression.

You point over to a stack of hay barrels. “Ooo Izu! We should take pictures of each other with our pumpkins over there” He follows your gaze over to the hay barrels, imagining all of the cute photos you could capture. “That's a great idea!” He walks over to the hay barrels, setting his pumpkin down on one. 

You strike out your phone, watching him pose with the pumpkin, striking a few goofy poses like flexing his muscles behind it and making it look like it's trying to bite his hand. Then, he assumes a more serious expression, smiling widely at you as you line up the shot.

“Thank you for that serious photo out of the 100 goofy ones” you chuckle, rushing over to him to show him the photos.He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, “Hey, you gotta have some cute serious photos for special occasions, too.” After glancing through the photos he nods, “These are great! Now it's your turn.”

He takes the phone from you, backing up a few steps, taking in the view. You swap out his pumpkin for yours, holding it daftly.. The setting sun casts a warm, golden glow on the pumpkins and the surrounding area. He began snapping a few photos, capturing your beautiful smile and the vibrant colors around the two of you.

“You're looking amazing as ever!”

You felt your face heat up a bit at his outright compliment. You smile for some photos, hold your pumpkin in the air, put it on your lap and hold it like a baby, earning a chuckle from Izuku. For the last photo, you land a genuine smile, trying to do something serious to match his energy.

He lowered the phone and walked back over to you, a soft smile on his face. You put your pumpkin down as he jogged over to you swiftly. “How do they look?” 

He scrolls through the photos, showing you the hundreds of photos it seems he had taken. ”They look amazing! You look downright adorable.” You look at him sheepishly, leaning into his arm. “Aww Izu”

As you scanned over the photos, another couple approached the two of you. "Hey! Do you two need a photo together?" Izuku glanced over at the couple, then back at you, a small smile on his face. He turns back to them with a nod, “That would be great, thank you!”

You hand the couple your phone and quickly position yourselves. Izuku stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back. He rests his chin on your shoulder as you both smile for the camera. You throw up a heart sign with your fingers, both of your pumpkins are pressed against each other, creating a funny contrast of their different facial expressions. 

He glances over as you make the heart sign, a fond smile on his face. The camera flashes, capturing the moment before he tightens his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He turns his head slightly and brushes his nose against your neck, placing a light kiss on your cheek as the picture is snapped.

You giggle at his gesture, thanking the other couple as you pull away to get your phone back. Izuku looks through the photos, smiling at the one where he's kissing your cheek. “These turned out great!” you nod eagerly, looking over his shoulder at the photos “Aww we could frame em!”

He nods in agreement, his eyes scanning over the photos one last time. “We definitely could! We should make it a yearly tradition, too. Get a new picture every Fall.” You pick up your pumpkin, moving it so that you can hold his hand once more. “Really? I think I'd like that! Besides, I think I could never get over this weather” Izuku picks up his pumpkin as soon as he puts the phone away. 

“I agree, there's just something about the fall time that's so magical. The leaves change, the crisp air, the warm colors. And, of course, the perfect weather for cuddling with my girlfriend.” You nudge into him slightly, a blush emitting onto your face.

A playful smile emits onto his face, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. “You're getting all flustered again from a little compliment. It's cute.” you peek up at him slightly, seeing the warm sun cast onto his features, “Gosh, you're too much for me, Izu”

He can't help but smile as you peek up at him, his heart fluttering in his chest. He tightens his grip on your hip, pulling you even closer to him. “You're the one making my heart race, love.” The warmth of the sun casts an intimate atmosphere over the both of you, bringing a sense of coziness and closeness. He leans in and places a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. 

You returned the favor, leaning up and placing a kiss onto his cheek. “C'mon, let's get going before it gets too dark!” He grins as you kiss his cheek, the feeling of your lips on his skin sending a jolt of electricity within him. “You're right, let's get going, love.” You make your way out of the pumpkin patch, the sun now dipping below the horizon. A chill in the air sends a slight shiver down your spine. Your surroundings grew dark, but it somehow felt more comfortable to walk through the shadows with you by his side.

[hotgirlbedtimescenarios]

hellloooo kt 💖

for a blurb: joel and reader on a camping trip. maybe they go swimming in a lake and watch the stars at night time :)

fluffy or smutty idc i just love how u write joel! 🤍🤍🤍

Hello sweet Lali! ❤️ Your compliment goes straight to my heart; thank you so much. 🥹 I’m equally, if not even more, obsessed with how YOU write, Joel. Anyways...

So, I kind of got carried away with this one, and it turned into much more than a blurb. Once the fluff began, I couldn't stop it. Whoops. I hope you like it :)

Forever Like This

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Words: >1k

Vibes: fluffy & flirty

———

“Are you sure about this, Joel? Where are we going?” you call out, your voice a little breathless as you trail behind him along the thick forest path.

The sun is low in the sky, casting long shadows between the trees. You've been walking for what feels like ages, your legs sore from the hike, and the soft rustling of leaves around you makes it feel as though you're stepping deeper into the heart of the woods. You can’t help but wonder if you’re lost.

Joel glances back over his shoulder, his brown eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of mischief. He shifts the overnight bags in his hand, effortlessly transferring their weight to one arm before reaching out to take your hand. His touch is warm and grounding. “We’re almost there,” he says with a grin that only makes your curiosity grow.

Minutes later, the forest parts, and suddenly, you step into an open meadow. The sight takes your breath away. Sunlight filters through amber and gold leaves overhead, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. A soft breeze stirs the tall grass, making it sway. The leaves above rustle gently, sending a flurry of them dancing in the air, floating slowly to the earth below.

In this picturesque clearing sits a small log cabin, its wood weathered with age. It's tucked away into the corner of the clearing. A sparkling lake stretches out to one side, the water mirroring the clear blue sky. A little john boat lies tipped on its side at the water’s edge, its wood faded from years of use.

Your heart skips in your chest, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the scene. “What is this place?” you ask, your voice soft with awe, turning to look at Joel.

Joel��s gaze is already on you, watching the wonder in your expression. He smiles, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “This cabin’s been in my family for years,” he explains, leading you toward the clearing. “Tommy and I used to come here to hunt or fish when we had the time. Haven’t been in a while, though.”

You look up at him, your eyes catching on his rugged features, the rough stubble along his jaw, the intensity in his dark eyes, and the way his dark hair flips slightly at the nape of his neck. You feel an undeniable sense of peace just being here, beside him.

“C’mon,” he says, guiding you toward the cabin. “Let’s get settled.”

The cabin’s door creaks as Joel unlocks it, revealing a small, cozy interior. The air smells of pine and wood, with the faintest trace of something earthy. As you explore the cabin, you notice little wooden carvings scattered throughout the room, birds, bears, and tiny trees, all crafted by hand. You imagine Joel sitting here by the firelight, carving late into the night.

Joel opens the windows, letting in the cool autumn air, and begins to unpack the bags. “Spent a lot of nights here when I was a kid,” he says, his voice softer now. “Tommy and I used to fight over who got to steer the boat. I learned how to hunt here, shot my first deer in these woods.” There’s a faraway look in his eyes as he speaks, lost in the memories.

You listen intently, feeling the weight of his words, then glance around at the tiny cabin. The wooden walls, the faded rugs, the firewood stacked neatly by the door, it all feels so personal.

Joel offers you a smile and gestures toward the lake. “Come on.”

You follow him, shoes and socks quickly discarded as you step into the soft, cool grass. The lake stretches out before you, its surface smooth and inviting. You dip your toes in, and a burst of laughter slips from your lips when tiny fish begin to dart around your feet. They nibble lightly at your skin, and you shriek, pulling your feet out of the water in surprise. Water splashes onto Joel, who’s sitting right beside you.

You glance at him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but when you see the damp patches on his T-shirt and the playful glint in his eyes, the teasing smile on his lips, you know exactly what’s coming.

A huff of laughter rumbles from his chest and he smirks, “I was just thinkin it might be nice to take a dip.” Before you can scramble away he’s pulling you into his arms with a swift move, lifting you effortlessly off the ground.

You squeal in surprise, trying to wriggle free, but Joel just chuckles as he carries you toward the water. “Joel! No, don’t!” you laugh, your voice half-pleading, half-giggling, “Our clothes!”

Your struggle is futile. Before long, he’s wading into the lake, the cool water quickly rising to his knees. He releases you when the water’s chest-high, and you find yourself drenched, laughing helplessly as Joel grins at you, clearly pleased with himself.

“Refreshing, huh?” he smirks, his voice deep and amused.

“Yeah,” you say, sticking out your tongue at him, “I guess it’s not too bad.”

The two of you spend the next few minutes wading and splashing, playfully dunking each other in the water, until you both end up stripped down to your underwear, your soggy clothes thrown onto the shore. You float together, bodies pressed against each other in the water, content in the intimacy of the moment.

Joel wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your wet nose, his breath warm against your skin. “Did I do good? Like the surprise?” he murmurs, his voice tender, hopeful.

“Perfect,” you whisper, and then kiss him. It starts off innocent and slow but builds, passion quickly catching flame. Beneath the water you wrap your legs around his torso, anchoring yourself to him and his hands cup the cheeks of your ass, kneading the flesh. His tongue sweeps against your bottom lip, begging for entrance and you allow it as your fingers tangle in his hair.

A groan rumbles in Joel's chest; it vibrates against you where yours is pressed up against him. His fingers skirt at the edge of your panties, asking for permission. To his surprise, you pull away from the kiss, and he watches you with a puzzled look, confusion in his lust-filled eyes.

“Not here,” you breathe, nodding toward the water. “Too many fish... and who knows what else is swimming around in here.”

Joel’s eyes narrow in playful frustration, but his lips curl into a grin.

“That cabin got a shower big enough for two?” you ask, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

He groans low in his chest, his eyes dark with desire. “We’ll make it fit,” he grumbles, giving you a squeeze that makes you laugh.

“Well, what are we still doing out here?” you tease.

“Fuck if I know”, and before the last syllable has left his mouth the both of you scramble out of the water, dripping wet and laughing as you race toward the cabin.

———

Later, after the sun has set and the stars begin to twinkle against the clear night sky next to a thin sliver of the moon, you and joel lie on a blanket in the meadow, the cool grass beneath you.

The sounds of the forest are a backdrop to the two of you, an owl hooting and insects humming in the distance. A cool wind skirts across the meadow, and you lean into Joel, the warmth of his body blooming beside you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave,” you sigh dreamily, perfectly content at where you find yourself, resting your head on his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Joel wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. He grins to himself secretly, thinking about the diamond ring in a tiny blue box hidden in his suitcase just a few yards away in the cabin.

“You're right,” he murmurs, his voice equally content, “I could do this forever.”

[rreidsdream]

Late night work

Summary: Spencer is sitting late in his office to do some paperwork but he couldn’t think straight since your on his mind only, what he didn’t knew is that your staying late too..

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

CW/Tags: moaning, freaky thoughts, handjob, just smut

WC: 600

The BAU was unusually quiet that night.

The soft hum of Spencer Reid's desk lamp cast a warm glow across his office, illuminating the stacks of files he had been working through. It was late, far past when most agents had left, but he remained, his mind racing with thoughts that had little to do with his case. He rubbed his temples, trying to focus, but the same image kept creeping into his thoughts-you.

He had admired you for so long, perhaps even loved you. You worked just down the hall, and while your presence had always been a comforting one, lately, it had become something more. It was distracting. He tried to ignore it, tried to concentrate on his work, but every time he looked at a file, his mind wandered to thoughts of you-of your smile, the way you looked at him, how your voice could ease the tension of a long day. He found himself daydreaming, his body reacting in ways that made him feel both embarrassed and exhilarated.

He shifted in his chair, trying to relieve the growing tension inside him, but the need was undeniable. His hand drifted down to his length, and he began to touch himself softly, lost in thoughts of you. He imagined what it would be like if you were there, close to him, your hands on him instead of his own. The thought alone was enough to send a quiet moan slipping from his lips. His hands went up and down on his length In a slow but intense rhythm.

What Spencer didn't know was that you had stayed late, too. You were in your own office, catching up on paperwork.

But the building was so quiet that the soft sounds from his office caught your attention. Curiosity piqued, you left your desk and made your way toward the sound, pausing just outside his door. The sight that greeted you made your breath catch.

Seeing Spencer so lost in his thoughts, touching himself made something to your mind.

You knew you shouldn't be watching, but something about seeing him so vulnerable, so lost in his own desire, stirred something deep inside you. You stepped into his office quietly, closing the door behind you. Spencer hadn't noticed you yet, too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

Slowly, you moved closer, your voice soft as you spoke, "Spence, do you need some help with that?"

He froze, his eyes widening in shock, his breath hitching. "I-I didn't know you were still here."

You smiled gently, walking behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders. "I think I could help make things easier," you whispered, your hands trailing down his chest as you leaned closer to him.

His breath was shaky, and though he was clearly nervous, he didn't stop you.

He nodded, unable to speak, his heart racing. You reached down to his length, taking over from where his hands had been moments ago, your touch soft but firm, guiding him to a place he had only ever imagined. You started to move your hands slowly but intensely making him moan out louder. His hips started jerking into your hand as you got into a faster rhythm.

It didn't take long before he was lost in the sensation, his hands gripping the arms of his chair as soft, breathy moans escaped his lips. You kept a steady rhythm, whispering his name as you brought him to the edge.

His breath getting heavier, his head tilt back into his neck as he moaned out your name while cumming inside your hand. “Ugh fuck..,” he cried out.

He sat back in his chair, still catching his breath, his cheeks flushed. He looked up at you, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've...

I've been thinking about this for a while now. I've been daydreaming about you, about... about us."

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You don't have to just dream, Spence. We can make this real."

[peppymintdreams]

pickle gets hit on by a client and isaac gets jealous..

Hmm this was something interesting

Lines Crossed

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

A client who crosses personal boundaries with Isaac’s assistant and partner test the limits and finds out

The mid-morning light filtered into Isaac's home office, casting a pale glow over the stacks of documents scattered across his desk. Isaac sat rigid in his chair, face impassive, as Mr. Devereux, a slick businessman rattled on about his case. Isaac’s eyes flicked over the details, his focus sharp, betraying no hint of the inner calculations he made as Devereux spoke.

Pickle stood quietly by Isaac’s side, a constant, grounding presence, though they could feel the tension subtly rising. Isaac’s hand occasionally brushed theirs, a rare, almost imperceptible gesture of acknowledgment. His seriousness never wavered, however; his stoic nature often made moments like this feel like they were witnessing a storm brewing beneath calm waters.

“I’m telling you, Rhoades, I’ve been framed. The evidence is circumstantial,” Devereux insisted, leaning forward with too much confidence for someone in his position.

Isaac gave a slow, measured nod. “That’s what I’m here to determine, Mr. Devereux. But I need full transparency from you. No omissions. Every detail counts.”

Devereux smiled, his gaze sliding toward Pickle, lingering a little too long. “Of course. Full cooperation.” His eyes traced over Pickle with something far from professional, but Isaac said nothing, though his fingers tapped once against the desk, a tiny, controlled gesture only Pickle would catch.

Standing from his chair, Isaac grabbed a folder from his desk. “I need to retrieve additional files from the lobby. It will only take a moment.” His voice remained calm, but his gaze, as he looked at Pickle, softened slightly a fleeting moment of quiet reassurance only they would recognize.

Pickle gave him a small nod, their own silent way of saying they were fine. Isaac's hand squeezed their shoulder before he turned, stepping from the office with that same collected air that made him both intimidating and compelling.

Once the door closed, the air seemed to change. Devereux’s relaxed posture shifted into something more predatory. He leaned back in his chair, a smirk pulling at his lips as he turned his attention fully on Pickle.

“You’ve got a good thing going here,” he said, his tone casual, but there was an undertone that made Pickle stiffen. “I imagine it’s not just work that keeps you close to Isaac.”

Pickle raised their eyebrows but kept their expression professional. “We work well together,” they replied simply, turning their focus back to the tablet. They wanted to avoid where this conversation was heading.

Devereux, though, wasn’t finished. He leaned forward, his voice dropping into something more suggestive. “You’re sharp. Attentive. I could use someone like you. I’d be willing to make it worth your while, in more ways than one.”

Pickle’s grip tightened on the tablet, their posture stiffening. “I’m not interested,” they said evenly, but there was a firmness beneath the words.

Devereux chuckled, leaning back with that same smug smile. “You’re loyal. I admire that. But come on, no need to be so formal. Rhoades doesn’t have to know everything, does he?”

Before Pickle could respond, the door creaked open, and Isaac stepped back into the room. His eyes scanned the scene quickly, his calm demeanor dropping into something colder. The files in his hand were forgotten as his gaze zeroed in on Devereux.

Isaac's jaw tightened. He didn’t speak right away, but the air around him seemed to thicken with tension. When he did, his voice was measured but held a chilling edge. “Mr. Devereux, I trust the conversation remained professional in my absence.”

Devereux leaned back, unfazed. “Of course. Just a bit of friendly conversation. No harm done.”

Isaac’s eyes darkened, and his presence seemed to fill the room as he stepped around his desk, subtly placing himself between Pickle and Devereux. His tone dropped, each word deliberate. “Pickle isn’t interested in any offers from you, personal or professional.”

The tension in Isaac’s posture was palpable now, though his face remained a controlled mask. His hands, however, were balled into fists, resting calmly but ominously at his sides.

Devereux raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Relax, Rhoades. Just talking. No lines crossed.”

Isaac’s gaze was hard, unwavering. “If you want to keep working with me, you’ll make sure that remains the case.” His voice was quiet but loaded with unspoken warning. “This conversation ends here. Now.”

Pickle placed a calming hand on Isaac’s arm, grounding him before the situation could escalate further. “It’s fine,” they said, their voice gentle but firm as they looked directly at Devereux. “This won’t happen again.”

Devereux’s smirk faltered, his bravado slipping at the realization that Pickle wasn’t playing along. He stood, shrugging nonchalantly. “Fair enough. I’ll be in touch, Rhoades.” He sauntered out, the door clicking shut behind him.

The tension finally broke, but Isaac’s rigid posture remained, his eyes fixed on where Devereux had just stood. He turned to Pickle, his voice dropping into something softer but still carrying the weight of his protectiveness. “Are you alright?”

Pickle smiled gently, stepping closer. “I’m fine. You handled it.”

Isaac sighed, some of the tension easing from his frame as he wrapped his arms around them. His tone softened even more, a rare moment of vulnerability showing beneath his usual stoicism. “No one crosses that line with you again. Not while I’m here.”

Pickle rested their head against his chest, letting the warmth of his embrace melt the last of the tension away. “I know. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

[guccixstyless]

Hii 💛💛,sound very odd but can you a imagine where the reader & Ryu shi oh have kids, a cute lil family.

A Sunday At Ryu Household

Pairing: Ryu Shio x Reader (married)

Word Count: 885 Words

A/N: Thank you for requesting this one shot, hope you like it!

************************************************************************

The kids: Twin Boys (Kai, Sooho -aged 7 years), One girl (Mirae -aged 5 years) and One boy (Timmy- aged 3 years)

-

The sunlight filtered through the curtains signaling another new day. Y/N stirred awake and felt the space between her to be empty, she was confused, where was her husband?

She reluctantly got up from bed and headed downstairs, the aroma of something delicious filled her nose as she approached the kitchen.

There was Shio, wearing an apron over his last night's pyjamas. The apron was a gift from his kids from father's day. It had "Best Daddy In The World" written in blue color with bold arial font. Shio loved it and wore it whenever he cooked.

"Hello mister," Y/N said leaning on the kitchen door.

"You're awake," Shio smiled over his shoulder looking at you.

Y/N went closer to him and he flipped the pancake before placing it on a plate. It was already stacked with lots of pancakes. He then turned off the stove before turning towards her.

"Good morning love, did you sleep well?" he spoke softly while tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Like a baby!" she smiled.

"Go wake up the kids, I'm making a special breakfast," Shio smiled.

"What's the occasion for this special breakfast?" Y/N wondered.

"Does there need to be one? Every day with you is special." Shio winked.

"So cheesy," Y/N snickered.

"Only for my love," he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before returning on making omelets.

"Smells so good, I will get the kids," Y/N said.

Shio was done plating and set the table up. He made nutella filled pancakes, cut up some fruits, made omelets, fried sausages and mushrooms, and made freshly squeezed orange juice.

Shio looked at the table proudly before setting the plates.

"Daddy!" Shio heard little voices and the smile on his face grew wider.

"Oh are we having pancakes?" Kai asked excitedly.

"Yes we are!" Shio smiled. Y/N came behind them while holding their youngest son Timmy.

Kai, Sooho and Mirae took a seat in the table beside each other, Y/N put Timmy in the highchair before going to sit beside Shio.

Shio served them all the food items before saying, "Dig in!"

The family sat down and enjoyed a delightful Sunday breakfast. Kai and Mirae shared stories from school. Sooho talked about his friends.

As the day unfolded, the family engaged in various activities. Shio, being the doting father he was, played games with the kids, their peals of laughter echoing through the house. Y/N watched with a heart full of joy as Shio chased the little ones around, their giggles creating a melody of happiness.

Shio helped them build blocks buildings. Kai and Sooho began running, so Shio gently warned them, "Be careful with those blocks, okay?"

The kids were very tired yet happy by lunch time. After a hearty meal, the kids went for a quick nap. Shio and Y/N enjoyed a cup of coffee while enjoying the quiet atmosphere of the house

"Do you remember when I proposed?" Shio reminisced fondly.

"Of course, the way you planned a scavenger hunt, it was truly iconic," Y/N giggled while twirling her wedding band.

"I was so nervous, I yelled at my poor secretary because you were running late," Shio recalled.

"Such a meanie you are, that man adores you though," Y/N smiled.

"Yeah at this point he is family too," Shio chuckled.

-

As the sun began its descent, casting a warm, golden glow over the living room, the family settled down to watch a movie. Shio lounged on the sofa, Y/N nestled against him, their children sprawled across the floor with blankets and pillows. Timmy was on his portable cradle.

"Best part of the day, isn't it?" Shio said softly.

"Absolutely. Sundays are my favorite when we're all together like this." Y/N smiled.

Shio wrapped his arm around Y/N, pulling her closer. The kids, feeling the cozy atmosphere, snuggled against their parents. The movie played on, but the real show was the love and togetherness that enveloped the room.

-

After the movie was finished, the couple took their children and bathed them before tucking them all in bed.

Y/N went to put Mirae in bed while Shio took care of the twins.

Shio tucked them in, placing gentle kisses on their foreheads before turning off the bedside lamp.

Y/N met Shio in the hallway and intertwined their hands before both of them happily walked to their room.

After their nightly skincare routine both of them crawled to bed. Exhaustion from the day finally kicking in. They both lie in bed facing each other.

"Today was perfect, wasn't it?" Shio whispered, as he stroked Y/N's cheek lovingly.

"It really was. Thank you, Shio, for making every day feel like a Sunday." Y/N whispered before placing a small kiss at the palm of Shio's hand.

Their lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss, a silent acknowledgment of the love that had blossomed and flourished over the years. Shio pulled Y/N into a warm embrace, the quiet intimacy of the moment speaking volumes.

"I love you Y/N, so so much," Shio said as they broke from the kiss.

"I love you too," Y/N smiled.

With a smile and contentment in their hearts, the couple drifted to sleep.

Link to another angst Ryu Shio story

[missycolorful]

It's important to remember that the Antarctic Empire, and therefore SMP Earth, is essentially canon to QSMP. (as far as I'm aware) (it definitely will be for this post, so shhh)

Think about all the destruction, mayhem, and cruel things Philza did on SMPE. How nothing held him back. He committed so many war crimes with a damn smile on his face. As part of the Antarctic Empire, he took over the world.

And if SMP Earth Philza is also q!Philza, then it's interesting to see how much has changed since the old days. How, before being thrust into Purgatory, he's been chill and minding his own business. Never really got into conflicts, never caused mayhem or destruction. The only exceptions are two occasions: a) when he returned to the eggs being missing, and he lava casted the Presidential Building, and b) at the Guy Fawkes event.

(Which as I'm typing this I'm realizing. The Guy Fawkes day was an event set the day before things went to hell. An event designed to create mass destruction. An event in which the capybaras gave Philza all the power and control, to blow up with so many stacks of TNT. and Philza fucking loved it. Perhaps to just give us a taste of what's to come.)

But anyway! Philza hasn't really delved into chaos on this server all that much. And even in the beginning of Purgatory, what he has been saying about the Red Team being underdogs is true. They weren't off to a great start; the first day and a half were hell! And yes, he only killed in self defense. He didn't trust the eye worth shit. And of course, he didn't want to hurt anyone. And I'm sure that is still true.

But as time as gone on, as the days have passed, the underdog statement just isn't the case now, as they've embraced what has made them strong, even if they are lacking in other places (i.e. not a lot of PVP players, no enchanted equipment). And they've done some questionable stuff. The situation with q!Rivers, for example. And also one I don't see mentioned which, I think was Day 8? When Phil just. Stole a saddle and a stack of potatoes from Blue Team's base while he was taking/replanting their crops. But still, Philza wants to justify these actions. "It's the bolas way." "it was for a quest" "we did this cause this." He wants to believe that what he's doing isn't bad, because he's just trying to survive in purgatory, right? Philza is a survivalist, this is how he survives.

Then we had today, where Philza's intense gameplay shined. He fought so many people in PVP, didn't even take a second to hold back, used his impressive minecraft skills to work his way to Green's base, and he killed the statue. He went wild today. Just imagine, Philza, wearing the Bolas gas mask, descending upon you with a sword, with no mercy. No, not just Philza, but the Angel of Death.

I think this is what Purgatory wants out of him. Right? Because clearly, Purgatory wants to bring the worst out of everyone.

I also think the reason that q!Phil tries to justify so much of his actions isn't simply ruled as hypocrisy (though it's a bit, in a way) or, in meta, born from self deprecation. No, there's something more to it.

It's because Philza does not want to be corrupted by Purgatory. He refuses to accept that it's dragging him to a dark place. A familiar place, even. I genuinely believe that Philza simply does not want to be like how he was all those years ago. Destructive and cruel. He doesn't want to go back. He's not like that anymore. He's a better person now. He doesn't want to hurt people, and I absolutely believe that. That's different, though, than saying I won't.

[strljaem]

“i’ve appreciated the way you appreciated my hard work”

as an oxford student.

The sun was barely a smudge on the horizon when I left my dorm, the sky painted in shades of gray that mirrored my mood. Oxford’s cobblestone streets were slick with morning dew, each step sending a shiver through my shoes. As I crossed the quad, I felt the centuries of history staring down at me from the towering spires, their solemn stone faces whispering tales of brilliance and struggle.

I walked briskly to my first class of the day—Discrete Mathematics. It was a small lecture hall, but the pressure within was anything but diminutive. Rows of students sat hunched over laptops, the blue glow of their screens casting a ghostly light on their faces. The quiet murmur of hushed discussions floated through the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee from the communal pot in the corner.

The professor's voice cut through the room, each word carrying a weight that seemed to sink into my chest. The content was dense, complex, and required more concentration than my caffeine-addled brain could muster at this hour. I scribbled notes, trying to keep up, but the pace was relentless. I glanced at my classmates; they were absorbed, their fingers flying over keyboards, their eyes fixed on the projection screen where diagrams and equations blurred into a dizzying dance.

Between classes, I made my way to the computer lab, where the steady hum of computers filled the air. Here, the stress became palpable. Students hunched over their workstations, faces creased with concentration. I saw friends exchanging worried glances, their voices hushed as they discussed the latest assignment—another mountain to climb, another impossible deadline. It was a constant grind, a relentless barrage of tasks that seemed designed to test our breaking points.

I felt the weight of my laptop in my bag, the weight of the assignments stacking up like a Jenga tower on the brink of collapse. My calendar was a sea of red, each block of time filled with deadlines, study sessions, and meetings with professors. I couldn’t afford to slack, not with the constant reminder that everyone here was exceptional, and the competition was fierce.

As I left the lab, I caught a glimpse of the ancient college buildings bathed in a faint morning light. They were beautiful, but their beauty felt distant, almost mocking. I wondered how many students before me had walked these same paths, felt the same stress, and questioned whether they could ever measure up to the legacy of Oxford. I took a deep breath, knowing that I had to keep pushing, even as the assignments threatened to drown me in a sea of anxiety.

I entered the next class, slipping into a seat beside my best friend, Emily. The lecture hall was buzzing with energy, the usual chatter and rustling of notebooks echoing off the stone walls. Emily looked up and gave me a quick smile. "Hey," she said, sliding a stack of papers into her bag. "You survived Data Structures, huh? How brutal was it today?"

"Brutal doesn't even begin to cover it," I replied with a dramatic sigh. "The assignment load is insane. But hey, at least we've got coffee to look forward to afterward."

Emily chuckled, flipping open her laptop. "I'm holding you to that. Double espresso, here I come."

I nodded, taking out my own supplies and arranging them neatly on the desk. The lecture was about to start, and I was mentally preparing myself for another hour of high-intensity learning. But as I looked toward the door, the chatter died down, and everything seemed to shift into slow motion.

The lecturer walked in, and I had to blink to make sure I wasn't imagining things. He looked quite young. Maybe we weren’t that much gap in age. I’m 21, he might be around 24?? He was tall and carried himself with a confidence that was almost ethereal. His attire was impeccably stylish—tailored navy trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a slim-fit blazer that looked like it was made for him. He had a casual elegance about him that set him apart from the other lecturers, who usually wore more traditional academic robes.

But it was his eyes that really caught my attention. They were a striking shade of brown-black, so vivid they seemed to capture the entire spectrum of my life. They were deep and expressive, capable of conveying a world of meaning with a single glance. As he scanned the room, his gaze met mine for a fleeting moment, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

His hair was another story altogether. It was jet black and fell in soft waves that framed his face, adding to his allure. It seemed to move with a life of its own, bouncing gently with each step he took. I had never seen a lecturer like him before—someone who could blend intelligence with such effortless style.

I felt a strange flutter in my chest, a mix of nerves and curiosity. It was unlike anything I'd felt in a classroom before. The room was silent as he reached the podium, his presence commanding attention without a single word. As he spoke, his voice was smooth and rich, filling the hall with a calm authority. I couldn't help but be drawn in, mesmerized by his every word.

Emily nudged me, a smirk on her lips. "What's with that look? Someone's got a crush on the new lecturer, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it cool. "Oh, please. I'm just... appreciating the scenery, that's all."

But deep down, I knew that this lecture was going to be different, and not just because of the content. This lecturer had a way of making everything seem more intriguing, more exciting. And as I took notes, I couldn't help but steal glances at him, my mind racing with questions and my heart pounding in a way I hadn't expected.

Then he spoke, and my world stopped spinning. “Good morning, everyone,” he said in a husky, deep voice that seemed to reverberate through the lecture hall. “My name is Mr. Na Jaemin, but you can call me Mr. Na. I’m the new lecturer for this course.” His voice was so smooth, so rich, that it seemed to wrap around each word, adding an almost hypnotic quality to everything he said.

The chatters around the lecture hall faded into silence. My attention was glued to him, the way his words seemed to flow effortlessly from his lips. It was as if he had this magnetic pull, drawing all eyes to him without even trying. I felt my brain shutting down, like it was too overwhelmed to process anything but the sound of his voice.

He continued to speak, introducing the course and outlining what we could expect in the weeks to come, but I barely registered any of it. I was too busy watching the way his lips moved as he spoke, the way his eyes lit up when he glanced around the room. It felt like the whole world had narrowed down to this moment, to this lecture hall, to him.

Emily nudged me, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Are you listening to anything he’s saying, or are you just lost in those eyes?”

I gave her a weak smile, my voice barely a whisper. “What? Oh, yeah, totally listening.” But I wasn’t, not really. I was caught in a trance, and it felt like I might never want to break free.

The class ended, just like that. I snapped out of my daze when Emily nudged me again, laughing softly. I looked down at my notebook—blank, not a single word jotted down. This was unusual for me. Usually, I'd be scribbling furiously, trying to capture every important point. But today? Nothing. The entire lecture passed in a haze, and now Mr. Na was gone, leaving me in a whirlwind of confusion.

Emily was packing her things, a grin stretching across her face. "Looks like someone wasn't paying attention," she teased, stuffing her laptop into her bag. "Did you even hear anything he said? Or were you just too busy daydreaming about those eyes?"

I gave her a sheepish smile, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "What? No, I was totally listening. Just... you know, processing." I tried to sound convincing, but even I didn't believe my own words. My brain was still replaying Mr. Na's entrance, his voice, and those captivating blue eyes.

Emily laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Right. Processing. Sure, we'll go with that." She finished packing and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Come on, let's grab that coffee. We can work on our assignments together before the next class. You might need a little help catching up."

I sighed, closing my notebook and shoving it into my bag. "Yeah, coffee sounds good. Let's get out of here." I stood up, my legs feeling slightly wobbly, as if my entire body was still reeling from the effect of Mr. Na's presence. It was like I had been hit by a tidal wave of charm, and I was just now starting to find my footing.

We made our way out of the lecture hall, the chatter of other students gradually filling the hallway. I spotted a couple of our friends and waved them over. "Hey, we're heading to the coffee shop. Wanna join us?"

They nodded, and we all headed toward the exit, the crisp Oxford air hitting my face as we stepped outside. It was refreshing, grounding me a bit after the surreal experience of the lecture. Emily leaned in close, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, love at first sight, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but smile. "Oh, come on. Don't start with that."

She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm just saying. I've never seen you this spaced out after a lecture. I mean, you've got a reputation for being the note-taking queen."

I chuckled, finally feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. Just had a lot on my mind, that's all." But even as I said it, I knew the truth. Something about Mr. Na had thrown me off balance, and it was going to take a lot more than a coffee to get me back on track.

The night settled over Oxford, the city’s ancient architecture casting long shadows under the dim streetlights. I was back in my dorm, a small but cozy room with a single bed tucked into a corner. The walls were adorned with posters and notes from various classes, but tonight, none of them held my attention.

I sat on my bed, my laptop propped up on my legs, pretending to study. My eyes kept wandering, staring at the ceiling or through the small window that offered a glimpse of the college quad. The usual buzz of student life filtered through the walls, faint voices and laughter from the common area down the hall, but it all felt distant.

All I could think about was Mr. Na.

His face appeared in my mind, as if etched there permanently. Those striking blue eyes, the kind that seemed to see right through you, and the way his fluffy black hair framed his handsome face. His voice—deep, smooth, and soothing—kept playing in my head, each word lingering long after he'd left the classroom.

I closed my laptop, knowing full well I wouldn't get any more studying done tonight. Instead, I got ready for bed, changing into my pajamas and brushing my teeth. As I moved around the small room, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to see Mr. Na again the next day. Would he remember me? Would he smile in that way that made my heart skip a beat?

As I climbed into bed, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. It was ridiculous—I had only just met the man, but something about him had completely thrown me off my usual routine. I was known for my discipline, my focus, but now all I wanted was to be in his class again, to hear his voice, to watch him command the room with that effortless charisma.

I pulled the blankets over me, my mind racing with what-ifs. What if he taught more classes? What if I had the chance to talk to him after a lecture? I knew it was all a bit fanciful, but I couldn't help it. There was something about him that made me feel like I was in the middle of a daydream.

As I closed my eyes, I hoped I would dream of him. Maybe we’d be in a classroom, his voice echoing off the walls, or maybe it would be something else entirely. The possibilities seemed endless, and I drifted off with a smile, eagerly awaiting what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, I woke up with a sense of excitement that felt almost tangible. It washed over me in waves, making my hands tremble with anticipation. I got ready for the day, my thoughts racing through the upcoming lectures, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Na again. Would he remember me? Would he say something that made my heart flutter?

As I walked down the hallway, I was practically bouncing on my toes. My backpack felt lighter, and even the morning chill couldn't dampen my mood. But then, as I turned a corner, I saw him. He was standing at the far end of the corridor, talking to a student—a girl with long, dark hair and a bright smile. They were laughing together, his voice low and warm, and her laughter light and melodic.

My heart skipped a beat, then sank like a stone. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, a sudden burst of anger and jealousy that was as unexpected as it was intense. He was smiling at her, really smiling, like he was genuinely enjoying their conversation. And I hated it.

It was ridiculous, I knew that. He was my lecturer, not someone I could claim ownership over. Yet, the sight of him laughing with her felt like a punch to the gut. I had no right to be upset, but the feeling was there, sharp and cutting. I told myself to calm down, to not let this childish jealousy take over, but it was hard to ignore the tightening in my chest.

"Get it together," I muttered under my breath, forcing myself to look away. "You're just being stupid. It's just a crush. A stupid, ridiculous crush."

I tried to push the feelings down as I headed to my first class. It was him—Mr. Na. As I entered the lecture hall, I was determined to focus on the lesson, to act like everything was fine. But the sight of him earlier still lingered in my mind, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself.

He walked into the lecture hall, calm and composed, like nothing had happened. Like he didn't just tear my heart into pieces with his smile. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let my emotions get the better of me. This was a classroom, and I needed to act like an adult. This wasn't high school; I couldn't afford to be distracted by a silly crush.

As the lecture began, I forced myself to take notes, to focus on the content. I wrote down everything he said, my pen moving quickly across the paper. The childish thoughts and jealousy were pushed to the back of my mind. I needed to be mature, to concentrate on what mattered—my studies, my future.

But even as I pretended to be focused, a part of me couldn't help but glance at him from time to time, wondering what it was about him that had such an effect on me. I told myself it was just a passing fancy, that I would get over it soon. Yet, deep down, I knew it wouldn't be that simple.

It had been a few weeks since the initial flutters and jitters of my crush on Mr. Na. I'd decided to focus on my studies, to keep things professional, and, frankly, it was working. The excitement had faded, and he was just another lecturer in my eyes—at least, that's what I told myself. I was more focused, my notes were detailed, and I was catching up on all the assignments. But then, one day, everything shifted.

Mr. Na stormed into the lecture hall, and everyone knew something was wrong. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a furious energy that crackled in the air. He was wearing glasses today—thick-framed and sleek. With them on, he looked even hotter than usual. He wore a white tee, a black tie, and slim-fit black trousers. But it wasn't his style that caught my attention. It was his mood. He was angry, really angry, and he made sure everyone knew it.

He slammed a stack of assignments on the table, the sound echoing throughout the hall. "What is this?" he exclaimed, pointing at the pile of papers. "These are ridiculous! This is not what I expect from Oxford students! You are capable of much better than this!"

His voice was loud, sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife. I could feel the tension in the room; everyone was on edge. Mr. Na paced back and forth, his eyes blazing with frustration. He was passionate about his subject, that much was clear, but his anger made it seem like he was ready to combust.

He grabbed a book and banged it on the table for emphasis. "This isn't high school! You're here to learn, not to slack off and turn in half-baked work. I want perfection. I demand it!" His voice echoed off the stone walls, sending shivers down my spine.

I was just staring at him, mesmerized by the intensity of his rage. It was understandable—I'd be mad too if I were in his shoes. He cared about the quality of our work, and he wasn't shy about expressing his disappointment. But still, it was unnerving to see him like this.

The lecture hall was silent. Dead silent. No one dared to make a sound. Mr. Na continued his tirade, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk searching for prey. And then he called my name.

I felt my heart skip a beat. The room seemed to close in around me as I stood up and walked toward him. My hands were sweating, my pulse racing. He looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes, and I knew I was in trouble.

He opened my book and paused for what felt like an eternity. The silence stretched, and I could hear my own breathing, heavy and ragged. I was sweating bullets, my nerves frayed to the breaking point. What would he say? Would he tear me apart like he did the others? My mind was a whirlwind of fear and anticipation.

Finally, he spoke.

Mr. Na opened my book and paused for a moment that felt like an eternity. His eyes scanned my work with a critical yet calm focus. But then, something changed. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile. It was subtle, but it transformed the entire atmosphere in the lecture hall. The tension seemed to melt away as he began to speak.

"Excellent work," he said, his voice warm and filled with genuine praise. "This is exactly the kind of detail and sophistication I expect from my students. Thorough, precise, and insightful. Keep it up." He continued to speak, listing the aspects of my assignment that he found impressive, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. This was the recognition I needed after all those late nights and long hours.

Around me, I could hear the murmurs of approval from my classmates. Emily gave me a discreet thumbs-up, and even some of the usually more reserved students nodded in acknowledgment. It was a rare moment of triumph, a fleeting victory in the midst of the rigorous grind.

But not everyone was pleased. I caught a glimpse of the girl from the hallway, the one Mr. Na had been smiling and chatting with earlier. She was sitting at the back with her group of friends, and her expression was anything but approving. She was glaring at me, her eyes narrowed in a mix of jealousy and disdain. Her friends seemed to pick up on her mood, sharing looks and whispering among themselves.

The intensity of her stare was unnerving, but I tried to ignore it. After all, Mr. Na was praising me in front of the entire class, and I didn't want to let anything spoil the moment. But the girl's glare was like a laser, sharp and unyielding, as if she was trying to burn a hole through me. What was her problem? Did she think I was trying to steal the spotlight? Or was she just angry because her own assignment didn't meet his expectations?

Mr. Na continued with the lecture, his voice steady and authoritative, but I could feel the eyes of that girl on me the entire time. It was hard to focus, but I reminded myself that I had earned this praise, and I wasn't about to let anyone take it away from me. I took a deep breath and returned to my notes, pretending not to notice the looks from the back of the room.

Emily leaned over and whispered, "What's with her? She looks like she's ready to explode."

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Maybe she didn't like the critique. Or she's just having a bad day." But even as I said it, I knew there was more to it. The girl's glare held a bitterness that couldn't be explained away by a bad grade. It was personal.

As the class continued, I resolved to stay focused and not let the jealousy get to me. But I knew I'd have to keep my guard up. Mr. Na's praise was a double-edged sword—it brought recognition, but it also attracted unwanted attention. And from the looks of it, I had just made an enemy.

I couldn't believe it. Mr. Na had just highly praised my work in front of the entire class. The very same Mr. Na who, not long ago, had made my heart race with a single glance. The same man I had spent sleepless nights thinking about, only to force myself to focus on my studies and let those feelings fade away. But now, here he was, smiling at me like I had done something extraordinary.

A mix of emotions swirled within me. There was the undeniable sense of pride—I had worked hard on that assignment, and it was gratifying to have my efforts recognized. But there was also something else, a lingering echo of the crush I thought I had put behind me. Hearing his voice, seeing that smile, it all felt strangely familiar, like a forgotten melody that suddenly played again.

It was almost surreal. I had once daydreamed about moments like this, where he'd acknowledge me in a special way. And yet, I had moved on, hadn't I? I had decided to focus on my studies, to let the feelings of my "first love" fade away into the background. But now, standing there in the lecture hall, it all came rushing back.

It was as if my heart couldn't make up its mind. I was thrilled to have impressed him, but part of me was uneasy, knowing that these lingering feelings might lead me down a path I had resolved to avoid. This was a classroom, not a romantic novel. I had to keep my emotions in check.

And yet, his words of praise echoed in my mind, refusing to be ignored. His voice had a way of making everything seem brighter, more vivid. It was like being drawn into a familiar orbit, one that I had consciously left behind. The challenge was to keep my focus on the important things—my studies, my future—and not let the swirling emotions distract me from my goals.

As I sat back down, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I couldn't let a moment of praise from Mr. Na throw me off course. But the memory of his smile, the warmth in his eyes, lingered like a whisper I couldn't quite shake. It was a reminder that first loves, even those you thought you'd moved on from, had a way of reappearing when you least expected them.

The class ended, and the lecture hall erupted in a flurry of activity. Everyone was gathering their books, shuffling papers, and heading for the door, eager to get on with their day. I was packing my things slowly, my mind still processing what had just happened. Mr. Na's words of praise echoed in my ears, leaving a warm sensation in my chest.

Emily was already at the door, her bag slung over her shoulder. She waved at me, gesturing for me to hurry up. "Come on! I've got another class in a few minutes," she said, her voice carrying over the din.

I waved back, indicating for her to go ahead. "You go. I have a couple of hours free before my next class. I'll head to the library and do some research." She nodded and left, her footsteps disappearing into the crowd.

I was almost done packing when I heard it—my name, called softly but with a tone that instantly caught my attention. It was Mr. Na, his voice like silk and velvet, low and smooth. It was the kind of voice that could stop anyone in their tracks, and it certainly did with me. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned around to find him standing at the lecturing desk, his eyes locked on me.

He'd taken off his glasses, letting them dangle from his shirt's neckline. The look suited him, adding an edge of casual confidence to his usual professional demeanor. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his fingers through it in frustration, but it only made him look more appealing. I couldn't help but think that he had never looked this hot before.

"Could I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of invitation. The lecture hall was mostly empty now, with just a few stragglers left gathering their things. I nodded, unable to find my voice at first. It took me a second to remember to breathe.

I walked toward him, my bag slung over one shoulder. My steps were hesitant, like I was walking into unfamiliar territory. What could he possibly want to talk to me about? The compliment earlier had already thrown me off balance, and now this? It was like a whirlwind of unexpected events, and I wasn't sure if I was prepared for whatever came next.

As I approached the desk, I noticed how his eyes seemed even browner up close, a shade that could just warm up the cold weather of Oxofrd. I tried to act casual, to hide the nervousness that made my palms sweat. But the way he looked at me, with that gentle yet intense gaze, made it hard to keep my composure.

As I reached the lecturing desk, Mr. Na was already watching me with those striking brown-black eyes, a slight smile on his lips. He motioned for me to stand closer, his voice low but clear enough to be heard over the diminishing noise of the other students leaving. It felt like the whole room had shrunk to just the two of us, the rest of the world fading into a blur.

"I've been keeping an eye on each of my students," he began, his tone serious yet warm. "It's part of my job to ensure everyone is progressing and engaged." He paused, letting his words sink in. His gaze was steady, sharp, like he was reading every detail in my expression. It was the kind of look that could pierce through walls, the kind that saw everything.

"But you," he continued, his voice softening, "you caught my attention. You've been fully focused in class, your work is consistently excellent, and you ask insightful questions. I'm proud of you." The way he said it, with that mix of authority and genuine warmth, sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he saw me, really saw me, beyond the grades and assignments.

I felt my cheeks flush, heat rising to my face. His words were more than just a compliment; they were a validation, an acknowledgment that my hard work wasn't going unnoticed. The silence between us grew, stretching into a long pause. He seemed to be waiting for my response, his eyes holding a gentle yet expectant gaze.

It took me a moment to find my voice. My mind was racing, struggling to come up with something intelligent to say, something that wouldn't sound too awkward or forced. My heart was pounding in my chest, the pulse echoing in my ears. This was more than just a simple "well done"—it felt like he was reaching out to connect on a level that went beyond the classroom.

Finally, I snapped back to reality, realizing that he was still waiting for me to respond. I cleared my throat, trying to sound composed despite the whirlwind of emotions. "Thank you so much, Mr. Na," I said, my voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "It means a lot coming from you." I wanted to say more, to express how much his words had impacted me, but I didn't trust myself to speak without betraying the rush of feelings I was experiencing.

He nodded, a smile spreading across his lips. "Keep it up," he said, his voice carrying an encouraging warmth. "I have high hopes for you." With that, he turned back to his lecturing materials, leaving me standing there, my heart still racing, trying to process what had just happened. The tension was still there, but now it felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted. I took a deep breath, knowing I had to keep my focus and live up to the expectations he'd just set. But the warmth from his words lingered, a quiet reassurance that seemed to fill the room even after he had turned away.

As I turned to leave the room, my cheeks were flushed with a warmth that spread through my entire body. I couldn't help but glance back at Mr. Na, watching him as he gathered his materials for the next class. He was so composed, so self-assured, and yet his words to me were gentle and full of praise. I felt a surge of pride and a touch of something else I couldn't quite place—gratitude, perhaps, or a rekindled admiration. Whatever it was, it made me walk a little taller as I headed for the door.

But as I stepped out into the hallway, my confidence faltered. The same group of girls who had been glaring at me earlier during Mr. Na's praise were standing off to the side, throwing me dirty looks. There were four of them, and they seemed to be waiting, as if I had unknowingly stepped into their territory. Their ringleader was the girl from the hallway, the one who'd been laughing with Mr. Na before. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

It was one against four. A part of me wanted to turn around and find another way out, but I knew that would only give them what they wanted—a sign that I was afraid. Instead, I kept my cool, squaring my shoulders as I walked past them. I was taller than most of them, which gave me a slight advantage. If nothing else, I could use my height to project confidence, even if I felt like my stomach was doing somersaults.

As I passed by, the ringleader couldn't resist a snide remark. "Look who's suddenly the teacher's pet," she said, her voice dripping with sarcascastic mockery. Her friends snickered, each throwing me a glare that felt like daggers.

The ringleader, the girl who had been talking to Mr. Na in the hallway earlier, was hard to ignore. Her outfit was designed to draw attention—a cropped top that showed off her midriff and tight jeans that hugged her figure. She had a confident, almost cocky air about her, and her long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves. It was the kind of look that seemed intended to impress, and judging by the way she stood with her arms crossed, she knew she was being watched.

When I saw her speaking to Mr. Na earlier, she had been all smiles and charm, clearly trying to make an impression. And why wouldn’t she? Mr. Na’s laughter had been genuine, his eyes lighting up as she spoke. But now, it seemed like her pleasant demeanor had melted away, replaced by a scowl that she aimed directly at me.

It was almost laughable. Trying to impress Mr. Na with ridiculous grades and revealing outfits? Keep on dreaming. This was Oxford, not a fashion show. I knew I had earned Mr. Na’s praise through hard work and dedication, not by batting my eyelashes and hoping for the best. If this girl thought she could gain favor with him by dressing provocatively and flashing a smile, she was in for a rude awakening.

But even so, the sting of jealousy was unmistakable in her eyes. It was like she had expected Mr. Na’s attention to be hers alone, and my success had disrupted her carefully laid plans. I wasn’t going to let her or her gang of friends intimidate me, but I knew I’d need to keep my guard up. People like her could be unpredictable when they felt threatened. And I had no intention of becoming her next target.

I took a deep breath, refusing to let them get to me. "Jealousy doesn't suit you," I replied, my voice even and calm. I kept walking, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. My heart was pounding, but I knew I had to maintain my composure. The last thing I needed was a confrontation in the hallway.

As I turned the corner, I could still hear them laughing, but I didn't look back. I had more important things to focus on, like my studies and the praise Mr. Na had given me. Besides, I wasn't about to let a group of mean-spirited girls ruin my day. I walked with my head held high, reminding myself that I had earned my place here. If they wanted to throw shade, that was their problem, not mine.

A few weeks turned into months, and life at Oxford settled into a steady rhythm. The initial excitement of my first encounter with Mr. Na had given way to a determined focus on my studies. I was no longer the daydreamer I once was; instead, I was known for my diligence and attention to detail. I threw myself into my coursework, attending every lecture, meticulously taking notes, and diving deep into research projects. It paid off in ways I hadn't anticipated.

When the results for the first mid-term test were released, I was nervous but hopeful. The rumors had been circulating that this would be the most challenging exam of the term, and many students were on edge. I opened my email, my heart racing, and saw the score: 4.00 GPA. It was perfect. I couldn't believe it. All those sleepless nights, the endless hours in the library, and the pressure I had put on myself—it had all been worth it.

The list of top students with a 4.00 GPA was proudly announced in every student's email inbox, on Oxford's main board, and even in the daily campus newsletter. It was everywhere, and my name was the first on the list. I was thrilled but tried to keep my excitement in check. I didn't want to come across as boastful, even though I was bursting with pride.

I immediately called my parents, who lived far from Oxford, and their voices were filled with joy and pride. "We're so proud of you!" my mom said, her voice cracking with emotion. My dad chimed in, "That's our girl! We knew you could do it!" We talked for a while, discussing my studies and the vacation we were planning for the next summer holidays. It felt good to share my success with them, to hear their enthusiasm for the future.

Emily and the rest of my friends congratulated me with genuine happiness. "You're amazing!" Emily said, giving me a big hug. "We need to celebrate! Let's throw a party after all that studying and cramming. You deserve it!" I agreed, grateful for the support of my friends. It was nice to know that I wasn't alone in this journey, that I had people who cared about me and wanted to share in my achievements.

But even as the celebration plans took shape, I was already looking ahead. I had set my sights on something bigger—a Ph.D. I knew the road ahead would be challenging, but I was ready for it. The 4.00 GPA was a significant milestone, but it was just the beginning. I was determined to push further, to explore new horizons, and to make a mark in the world of computer science.

Oxford had given me the tools, and I intended to use them. The party was just the beginning of a new chapter, one that would lead me to greater heights. I was excited for the journey ahead and eager to see where it would take me.

The end-of-semester party at Oxford was the event everyone had been looking forward to. It was held at a grand hotel, a place known for its opulent decor and lavish events. The hotel stood tall and regal, with its stone façade and large glass windows reflecting the city lights. As we approached, I could hear the soft strains of music floating out from the ballroom, the distant hum of voices and laughter filling the night air.

The entrance was adorned with elegant drapes and twinkling lights, leading into a grand foyer where guests were mingling, dressed in their finest. The ceiling was high, with elaborate chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the entire space. The floor was polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting the movements of the guests as they moved about, greeting friends and lecturers alike.

I had chosen a long, flowing evening gown for the occasion. It was a deep emerald green that complemented my skin tone and brought out the color of my eyes. The dress had a delicate lace overlay that added an air of sophistication, and it cinched at the waist to give me a flattering silhouette. I wore my hair in loose curls that cascaded over my shoulders, and my makeup was subtle but accentuated my features. A pair of silver heels completed the look, adding just the right amount of sparkle.

As I stepped into the ballroom, the environment was alive with energy. A live band was playing soft jazz, adding a touch of elegance to the evening. People were chatting, laughing, and dancing on the grand dance floor at the center of the room. The lecturers were there too, dressed in their finest, mingling with students and colleagues.

The decorations were exquisite. The tables were adorned with white linens and elaborate centerpieces, and the walls were lined with ornate tapestries. The hotel staff moved gracefully among the guests, serving hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The entire scene felt like something out of a fairytale, a perfect setting to celebrate the end of a long semester.

I moved through the crowd, greeting my friends and exchanging pleasantries with my lecturers. It was a night to remember, a moment of relaxation and celebration after months of hard work and intense study. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, and the music provided the perfect backdrop for an evening of fun and camaraderie.

The host of the party stepped onto the stage, tapping the microphone to get everyone’s attention. The room fell into a quiet murmur, then silence as all eyes turned toward the stage. The moment everyone had been waiting for—the announcement of the "Main Girl" of the batch, the one who excelled in academics and co-curricular activities—was finally here. The tension was palpable, the air buzzing with anticipation. Everyone was hoping to hear their name called, and you could feel the excitement mixed with nervousness throughout the grand ballroom.

I wasn’t expecting much, so I was busily chatting with my friends, enjoying the night. It was a party, after all, and I was here to celebrate the end of a long semester. But then, suddenly, I heard my name. It took me a moment to register what had just happened. Was that really my name? I turned to see everyone looking at me, their eyes filled with surprise and admiration. The applause started slowly, then grew louder, echoing through the ballroom. People were cheering and clapping for me, their voices filled with genuine joy.

I was in disbelief. I stood, my legs feeling wobbly as if they might give out beneath me. The cheers grew louder, and my friends rushed to my side, hugging me tightly. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, the emotion of the moment washing over me. It was overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

As I hugged my friends, I glanced across the room and saw Mr. Na standing in the corner among the other lecturers. He was clapping for me, his smile wide and genuine. There was a look of pride on his face, a mix of happiness and satisfaction that warmed my heart. I felt a surge of gratitude, knowing that his encouragement and guidance had played a significant role in my success.

I made my way to the stage, still in a daze from all the attention. The host handed me a small crown, a symbol of my achievement, and I bowed in front of everyone, feeling the heat of the spotlight. The applause was deafening, but it felt like the perfect culmination of all my hard work. I had worked tirelessly throughout the semester, and now I was being recognized for it. The cheers, the clapping, the smiles—it was a moment I would never forget.

The party ended with a burst of applause and cheers, the ballroom slowly emptying as students and lecturers headed back to their dorms. The energy of the evening had been palpable, but now it was time to say goodbye and pack for the summer holidays, which started the next day. The hotel lobby was filled with laughter and goodbyes, everyone sharing stories from the night and making plans to meet up during the break.

I waved goodbye to my friends, hugging them and kissing them on the cheek, thanking them for one of the best nights of my life. "This was amazing," Emily said, squeezing me tightly. "We'll have to do it again soon!" I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement for the holidays and sadness that the semester had come to an end. It felt like a chapter closing, with so much more yet to be written.

Some of my friends were waiting for me, asking if I wanted to walk back with them to the dorms. I appreciated the offer, but I had other plans. "I need to use the bathroom," I said with a sheepish smile. "I think I drank a little too much tonight." They laughed, waving me off and heading toward the exit.

The hallway leading to the restrooms was quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling ballroom. The lights were dimmer here, casting soft shadows on the walls. As I made my way to the restroom, I passed a few lingering partygoers, their laughter fading into the distance as they left. It was a moment of solitude after a night filled with noise and celebration, and I welcomed the brief silence.

Inside the restroom, the sound of running water echoed off the tiles, a soothing white noise after the chaos of the party. I took a moment to collect myself, splashing some cool water on my face to calm my nerves. It had been an incredible night, filled with unexpected surprises and moments I knew I'd cherish forever. The memory of the announcement, the cheers, and the crown made me smile. But now, it was time to return to reality and prepare for the journey ahead.

As I washed my hands, the soothing sound of running water helped to calm my nerves after the night’s festivities. But then I heard the chatter of a group of girls entering the restroom. The voices were familiar, but I tried to push the recognition aside. I knew exactly who they were—the same group that had been giving me dirty looks earlier at the party.

I quickly grabbed my bag and headed toward the exit, hoping to avoid any confrontation. But as I turned the corner, I bumped into them, nearly knocking one of them over. It was the same girl, the one who had tried to outshine me in front of Mr. Na, the one with the revealing outfits and the fake smiles. Her friends crowded around her, their expressions already set to mock me.

"Well, well, well," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who it is. The 'Main Girl' herself." Her friends laughed, nodding in agreement.

I tried to ignore them, to keep my composure, but it was hard. The words stung, each one like a sharp needle pricking my skin. I decided to fight back with a simple comeback. "Just shove all your jealousy up your ass, instead do something better? something like getting better on your academic performances, yeah?" I said, looking her straight in the eye. It was a small victory, but it seemed to hit a nerve. Some of the girls glared at me, while others whispered angrily among themselves.

The main girl pretended to keep her cool, but I could see the anger in her eyes. She hated that I had the spotlight, that I had earned the admiration of our lecturers, especially Mr. Na. It was a constant reminder of her failure to stand out, and she couldn’t hide her resentment.

One of the girls in her group was holding a cup of iced chocolate. Before I could react, she flung it at me, the cold liquid splashing across my dress, my hair, and my face. The others burst into laughter, their voices echoing off the bathroom tiles. I closed my eyes in embarrassment, feeling the sticky mess dripping down my dress. It was humiliating. The beautiful gown I had chosen for the night was ruined, and my hair was a tangled, chocolate-covered mess.

The laughter grew louder, the girls enjoying my discomfort. I felt a surge of anger and shame, but I knew that reacting would only give them more satisfaction. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure despite the overwhelming humiliation. It was one of the worst moments I had ever experienced, and I knew it would be etched in my memory for a long time.

The laughter and mockery filled the restroom as the cold, sticky chocolate dripped from my hair and dress. The girls continued to sneer, their eyes gleaming with a mix of cruelty and triumph. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but beneath the humiliation, I felt a surge of anger bubbling to the surface.

I bent down and grabbed the half-empty cup of iced chocolate from the floor. Without hesitating, I threw it back at the main girl, the contents splashing across her shirt and into her hair. Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth forming a perfect "O" as she staggered backward, hitting the wall. Her friends gasped, their mocking laughter turning to disbelief.

I didn't wait to see her reaction. I stormed out of the bathroom, my footsteps echoing in the hallway as I rushed toward the exit. My heart was pounding, a mix of adrenaline and indignation fueling my steps. I could still hear the girls' voices behind me, now raised in anger and surprise, but I didn't look back. I had given them a taste of their own medicine, and I wasn't about to stick around for the aftermath.

As I pushed through the door and into the hotel lobby, the cool air hit my face, a refreshing contrast to the heat of my anger. I knew I would have to deal with the consequences later, but at that moment, all I wanted was to put as much distance between myself and those girls as possible. It was a relief to be away from their toxic presence, even if it meant walking through the lobby covered in chocolate and embarrassment.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of the party and the support of my friends, reminding myself that I had earned my place at Oxford. No amount of mockery or bullying could take that away from me. I was determined to hold my head high, even as I left the hotel, the night air offering a sense of calm after the storm.

I was glad to find a quiet corner in the hotel lobby where I could clean up the mess from the iced chocolate. It was a small alcove behind a decorative pillar, and I felt relieved that no one had seen me storming out of the restroom. My bag had a pack of wet tissues, thankfully, and I pulled out several to wipe away the sticky mess on my dress and hair. The chocolate had splattered everywhere, and I was trying to salvage what I could without making things worse.

As I was cleaning up, I heard a voice call my name with a hint of curiosity. It was deep and husky, the kind of voice that could make anyone stop in their tracks. I looked up, and there he was—Mr. Na. My breath caught in my throat. I was in disbelief. Why now, of all times?

He was dressed in a sleek black tuxedo that fit him perfectly. His black hair was slicked back, giving him a polished and sophisticated look, yet his eyes were soft and kind, with a hint of worry. He looked at me with an expression that was both gentle and concerned, as if he was unsure of what he had just walked into.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and gentle. It was the kind of voice that could ease anyone's nerves, but at that moment, I felt a rush of embarrassment. Of all people to find me in this state, why did it have to be him?

I stood there, holding the damp tissues, my face flushed and my heart racing. I could see the reflection of the chandelier lights in his eyes, and it made him look even more striking. His tuxedo was impeccably tailored, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. Despite the sophistication of his attire, his gaze conveyed genuine concern, as if he truly cared about what had happened.

I tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, my voice shaky. "Just a little accident, that's all." I gestured to my chocolate-stained dress, trying to play it off, but it was hard to hide the embarrassment.

Mr. Na took a step closer, his eyes scanning the scene. "Are you sure? That looks like more than just a little accident," he said, his tone soft but firm. "Do you need any help? Maybe a jacket to cover up or something?" His concern was genuine, and it made me feel both grateful and self-conscious at the same time. I knew he was trying to be kind, but his presence only made me feel more aware of my disheveled state.

I pushed my hair back, trying not to cry from the sheer humiliation of it all. My hands were still damp from the wet tissues, and my heart was racing. I kept my eyes down, focusing on the chocolate-stained fabric of my dress to avoid meeting his gaze. I didn’t want him to see the embarrassment in my eyes, or worse, the tears threatening to spill over.

“It’s fine, really,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked slightly. I was still in disbelief that it was Mr. Na standing there, concerned about me. This was the same Mr. Na who was fierce and strict during lectures, who could command a room with a single word. But now, he was completely different, his demeanor soft and caring.

He took a step closer, his expression gentle but still filled with worry. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay if you’re not. I can help you find something to cover up, or we can find someone to give you a ride home.” His kindness felt almost surreal, given how he usually commanded respect with his strictness and high expectations in the classroom.

I shook my head, trying to muster a reassuring smile. “Really, it’s fine,” I said, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. “It’s just a little mishap, that’s all. I can handle it.” I didn’t want him to go out of his way to help me, not when I was feeling so vulnerable and exposed.

But he didn’t seem convinced. His eyes lingered on my chocolate-stained dress, then returned to my face, where he seemed to read the emotions I was trying to hide. It was strange to see him like this, so different from the stern lecturer I was used to. His voice was calm and understanding, his usual intensity replaced by a softness that made me feel like I could trust him.

Mr. Na looked at me with concern, then glanced at my chocolate-stained dress. He hesitated for a moment, then without a word, he removed his jacket and gently draped it over my shoulders, covering the worst of the mess. I felt the warmth of the fabric and the comforting scent of his cologne. It made me feel a little more secure, even as my eyes welled up with tears. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but the anger and humiliation were hard to contain.

He gestured for me to follow him, his touch light but guiding. "Come on," he said softly. "Let's find a place where you can clean up." He led me away from the crowded parts of the hotel, toward a quieter bathroom in a different wing. It wasn't the same one where I had encountered those mean girls, which was a relief.

He waited outside while I cleaned up, his presence a calming influence in the otherwise empty corridor. I used the wet tissues to wipe the chocolate off my face and attempted to tidy my hair as best as I could. The stain on my dress was mostly hidden under his jacket, but I could still feel the sticky residue on my skin. It was uncomfortable, but knowing that he was just outside made it easier to deal with.

When I stepped out, Mr. Na smiled gently. "Feeling better?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. I nodded, trying to keep my emotions in check. I didn't want to break down in front of him, not after he'd been so kind to me.

He led me back to the hotel lobby, which was now almost deserted. It was late, and most of the guests had already left. I glanced outside, hoping to find a taxi, but the streets were empty. Mr. Na noticed my hesitation and offered, "I can give you a ride home if you need it. It's no trouble."

I hesitated, not wanting to impose, but the thought of walking back alone in my current state was daunting. "Are you sure?" I asked, trying to hide my excitement. He was my crush, after all, the one I had fallen out of love with, or so I thought. But now, those old feelings seemed to be resurfacing, and I could feel my heart racing.

"Of course," he replied with a reassuring smile. "It's the least I can do. Besides, I'd feel better knowing you got home safely." His words were simple, but they carried a weight of sincerity that made me feel at ease. I nodded and agreed to the ride, my excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

As we walked toward his car, I couldn't help but think about how much had changed. I thought I had moved on from my crush on him, but now, it felt like those feelings were emerging again, stronger than ever. It was a mixture of excitement and nerves, a reminder that sometimes, even when you think you've moved on, the heart has a way of finding its own path.

The car was immaculate, with a faint scent of leather and a hint of cologne, matching the scent of his jacket. I slid into the passenger seat, feeling the coolness of the upholstery against my skin. It was a luxurious vehicle, clearly well-maintained, reflecting his meticulous nature.

Mr. Na got in on the driver’s side and started the engine, the soft purr breaking the silence of the night. The dashboard lights cast a gentle glow, illuminating his face in a way that made his features stand out even more. The air inside the car was warm, a stark contrast to the cool night outside.

As he drove through the mostly empty streets, I felt a mix of emotions. Part of me was still embarrassed about what had happened, but another part was grateful for his kindness. The soft music playing on the car radio, combined with the gentle motion of the car, created a surprisingly relaxing atmosphere. I kept glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to be obvious, but he seemed focused on the road, his expression calm and composed.

“Do you live far from here?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence. His voice was gentle, lacking the sternness he often had during lectures.

“Not too far,” I replied, giving him directions. I felt a bit nervous, unsure of what to say or how to act. This was my strict lecturer, the one who usually commanded the classroom with an iron will, yet here he was, giving me a ride home like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The conversation was light and casual as we drove through the quiet streets. He asked about my studies and how I was planning to spend my summer holidays. I answered with simple responses, still trying to gauge the situation. There was something about the way he spoke, the softness in his tone, that made me feel at ease despite the awkward circumstances.

As we approached my dorm, I pointed out the building. Mr. Na pulled up to the entrance and parked the car. Before I could thank him, he turned to me with a smile that seemed to light up the dimly lit interior.

“I’m glad I could help,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with a gentle gaze. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I want to make sure my students are taken care of.”

His words were kind, but they also carried a weight that I couldn’t quite define. I thanked him, my heart racing from the unexpected kindness and the warmth of his smile.

But just as I was about to step out, he reached across and gently pulled my hand. His touch was light but firm enough to stop me from leaving. The sudden contact sent a jolt through my system, my heart skipping a beat as I looked at him in surprise. There was something in his eyes—an intensity I hadn’t seen before.

“Wait,” he said, his voice low and steady, but I could hear the underlying tension. He didn’t let go of my hand, his fingers wrapped gently around mine. The moment felt electric, the air between us charged with something I couldn’t quite define.

I was in disbelief. What was he doing? This was Mr. Na, the stern lecturer who was always so composed, so in control. And now, he was holding my hand, looking at me with an expression that seemed to speak volumes. The tension between us was palpable, the space within the car suddenly feeling much smaller.

“There’s something I need to say,” he continued, his eyes locked on mine. His grip on my hand tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to let me know he was serious. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I can’t ignore it anymore.”

My mind raced. What was he talking about? Was he about to say what I thought he was going to say? The possibility seemed impossible, yet the intensity in his gaze suggested otherwise. I could feel my pulse quickening, my breath catching in my throat. This wasn’t just a casual conversation—it was something more, something that could change everything.

“I like you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than just as a student. I know this is unexpected, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.” His words hung in the air, the silence that followed heavy with anticipation.

I was stunned, my mind struggling to process what he had just said. My first reaction was disbelief—this couldn’t be real. But his eyes were sincere, and the way he held my hand suggested that he meant every word. I felt a rush of emotions—confusion, excitement, uncertainty—all swirling together in a dizzying whirlwind.

“What?” I finally managed to say, my voice shaky. It was all I could think of, my thoughts racing too quickly to form coherent sentences. The tension between us was almost unbearable, the space in the car feeling like it was closing in. I knew that whatever I said next would have consequences, that this was a moment that couldn’t be taken back.

Mr. Na waited, his gaze unwavering, his grip on my hand a constant reminder of the connection between us. I had no idea what to do or say, but I knew that this was a turning point—one that would change everything.

He held my hand, his grip gentle but firm, and I could feel the rising tension between us. His eyes were soft yet intense, conveying a mix of emotions I couldn't quite decipher. He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I appreciate the way you appreciate my hard work," he said, his words measured but filled with sincerity. "I know I can be strict in class, but you were always fully focused. You worked hard, and it showed in your academic performance." His eyes never left mine, and I could feel my heart racing as he continued. "And the way you smile when I pull out those silly jokes during lessons—it flutters my heart. It really does."

I stared at him in disbelief and nervousness. This was the same Mr. Na who commanded respect in the classroom, and yet here he was, speaking to me like we were equals. It was almost surreal, the way his demeanor shifted from stern to affectionate. The tension in the car grew, a palpable charge in the air, and I knew he was waiting for my response.

He hesitated, as if unsure of how to proceed. "I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable," he said, his voice softening. "But we're not that far apart in age, and I just started my career as a lecturer earlier than most. I don't want to pressure you, so if you can't agree with my feelings, just ignore what I said. We can just stay as—" He didn't get to finish his sentence.

I leaned in and kissed him. At first, it was gentle, almost tentative, but then it grew more intense, our lips pressing firmly together. His surprise melted into warmth as he responded, the kiss becoming deeper, more passionate. The tension between us exploded into a rush of emotion, and I could feel the heat building as our kiss grew steamy.

We pulled away, both of us breathless, our faces close, our eyes locked. He smiled, his expression a mix of joy and relief. It was clear we both knew the signs—this wasn't just a fleeting moment. We liked each other, and the kiss had confirmed it.

He chuckled, breaking the silence. "I think you might need to take a shower," he said, gesturing to the chocolate stains on my dress. I laughed, the sound filled with warmth, and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Thanks again," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "I'll see you soon."

"Goodnight," he replied, his smile never fading.

I stepped out of the car and waved goodbye, watching as he waited until I entered my apartment building. The night had taken a surprising turn, and as I made my way to my room, I knew that this was just the beginning of a story I couldn't wait to see unfold.

[thefairywithboots]

Just Pretend (Robert Plant x fem!Reader)

Hello! So this is a fic filling out a request that I got from an anon request chosen from a bed-sharing prompt list. Prompt #6: "our cover is that we're a couple and it only makes sense to sleep in the same bed."

Summary: This is a story of an unnamed female reader who is friends with Robert Plant in 1968. She has recently broken up with her boyfriend, but he simply does not like being told no, and continues pursuing her. Robert offers to "pretend" to be her boyfriend to scare the guy off.

Ratings: T(?) preferably like 16 and up. There's no smut but there's high sexual tension and a bunch of innuendos, because I am apparently incapable of writing Robert stuff without it. So I wouldn't consider this entirely NSFW but reader discretion is definitely advised.

I tag:

@bijouxcarys @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @jimmysdragonsuit13 @elliotironmaidenfan @tangerine1969

@callmethehunter @firethatgrewsolow @brownskinsugarplum76

@m-faithfull @dzdndcnfsd @friccinfricks @starstruckfangirlsposts

@elliotts-personal-property @jimmypage7 @teaforqne @chromations @n0quart3r

If you want to be tagged for future Robert Plant fics, feel free to let me know and I'll add you to the list. :)

~~

1968

It was early evening as the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow through the windows of the small record shop where I worked. It had been a quiet day, it being Wednesday, with only a handful of customers dropping in to browse the stacks of records and chat about music.

The familiar sound of the bell above the door drew my attention from organising the records as it gently chimed, announcing the arrival of two familiar faces. I walked to the front of the shop and saw Robert Plant and John Bonham - affectionately known as Bonzo to all who knew him - enter the shop with easy smiles on their faces, clearly in the midst of talking about something that had happened at the band rehearsal that day.

The three of us had been friends for several years. Robert in particular was a regular customer of the shop and I always looked forward to him coming in. We talked endlessly about the music we loved and lent each other records to listen to.

I smiled as I greeted them, happy to see them after a long and slow day at work, eager to catch up. Bonzo was already flicking through the new releases at the front of the shop, concentrating on what he wanted to listen to next. When I looked at Robert and saw the sunlight making his golden locks look brighter than usual, I looked away.

He was my friend, and I felt guilty for finding him attractive. But over the past few months, I couldn't help but notice how much he had grown since we were teenagers. I had the urge to brush his hair from his face to feel how soft it was and to see how blue his eyes were.

And I would get extremely jealous when I saw how the girls would flock to him when he and Bonzo would perform a gig. This was expected; he was heartachingly beautiful, and he was only approaching his 20th birthday. But what I detested was when he would acknowledge these women and often vanish for several hours. It didn't take much imagination to know what he was doing with them.

I knew I had no right to feel this way. I had been in a relationship until recently and had no claim on Robert. Nevertheless, his presence continued to make me increasingly flustered.

As he leaned against the counter, he asked if we had any new blues records. He was looking for something new to listen to. It wasn't long before I was showing him the piles of records. We were in the middle of a conversation when I heard the bell over the door ring again.

I left him alone to browse the stacks while I went to the till to take care of the new customer. My heart sank when I saw Adam, my ex, casually looking at the records in the front. He had never been here before. He had always found my love of music rather annoying and couldn't understand why I would want to work in a shop full of dusty records. Which could only mean that he was here to see me, not the records.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, feeling the need to keep some distance between us.

Adam's green eyes met mine as he took in the sight of me. "Why didn't you call?"

My brow furrowed as I shook my head. "I have nothing to say to you, Adam. We're over."

Adam moved closer to me. I backed away from him, bumping into a shelf behind me. "We can't... you can't throw away what we had because of one stupid mistake."

My eyes flashed with anger. "You fucked my best friend," I said through gritted teeth.

Adam looked away in shame. "I'm sorry. I've told you how sorry I am."

I turned away from him to go back to the till. Adam reached out and grabbed my hand. I tried to pull it away, but he was much stronger than me. "Let go of me!" I said, trying but failing not to sound panicked.

Adam tried to pull me against him, to hold me. "Y/N, you can't do this, I still love you..."

"I'm pretty sure she told you to let her go," John's voice cut through Adam's pleading. He was standing at the edge of the aisle, glaring at Adam.

John was intimidating enough, but Adam had always been genuinely afraid of him. It took a lot to set him off, but he was known to do serious damage when he got into a fight. Adam let go of me immediately, refusing to meet Bonzo's gaze.

"Fine, fine. I can take a hint." He turned and walked out of the record shop, afraid to look back at me for fear of Bonzo breaking every one of his ribs.

Bonzo turned to look at me. "Are you all right?"

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Thanks..."

Robert came out of the back room, his arms full of records. He had missed the whole debacle with Adam. As he and Bonzo paid for their records, I did my best to calm down. With no one else in the shop, I thought it best to close up early in case Adam came back in after they left.

After all, I had to get ready for my friend Celia's birthday party tonight.

After paying for his purchases, Bonzo announced that he had to go home to Pat to check on the baby. This left me alone in the shop with Robert. I started to get ready to close up after he left.

"Do you need a lift home?" he asked me as we left the shop and I locked up.

I usually walked home, but Robert was a vintage car fanatic and loved to show them off to everyone.

"Um..." Before I could answer, Robert looked over my shoulder at someone behind me. I turned to follow his gaze and saw Adam watching me from around the corner. "Oh, shit."

"Isn't that your boyfriend?"

I shook my head. "Ex-boyfriend. We broke up last month after I caught him screwing Leila, my now former best friend. He came by while you were in the back of the shop, and... he wasn't happy about me ending things."

Robert's eyes narrowed as I explained. "Come on, I'll drive you home. I don't like the way he's lurking around watching you."

I didn't argue with him. I didn't want Adam to follow me home. I let him lead me to his pick-up truck and he opened the door for me as I slid into the passenger seat.

As he got in, I saw him glare at Adam from behind the wheel.

"You know, I never liked that bloke."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He seemed so... possessive of you. Like he saw you more as a trophy than an actual person."

I rolled my eyes at the idea of someone seeing me as a trophy.

Robert's gaze hardened when he saw that Adam was still watching me. "Hey, Y/N, can I ask you to do something?"

"Hm?"

"Lean a little closer to me."

I blushed at the thought but did as he asked. I didn't know what to expect, but what he did next made me yelp in shock. He pulled me closer until his lips were on my neck.

"Robert!" I gasped. "What are you doing!?"

He shushed me before trailing kisses up my neck and to my ear. His lips were even softer than I had imagined, and the sensation of him leaving soft caresses along the sensitive nerves of my neck made me dizzy.

"Showing this tosser that you don't belong to him any more," he murmured into my ear. His voice sounded like it was made of clouds.

I saw that Adam was still watching me, watching Robert kiss my neck. I stared back at him. Glaring, more like. I wanted to show him that I wasn't intimidated by him any more.

I felt Robert's teeth start to nibble gently on the skin of my neck and I felt a jolt of pleasure shoot straight between my thighs. My mouth opened as I moaned softly. The way my face contorted with pleasure must have been too much for Adam to watch as he finally walked away to his car, although he was clearly pissed off at what he had just witnessed.

I breathed heavily as I looked at Robert as we broke apart. The sound of my moaning had cut through the haze of lust that clouded my judgement and I realised what Robert and I had just done. Or rather, what he had done and my reaction to it only betrayed the attraction I felt for him. He had only done what he did to make Adam realise that I no longer wanted him, and my knickers were damp as a result.

I sat in the passenger seat, unable to look him in the eye. Robert started his truck and started to drive me home.

"Sorry about earlier," he said after a few minutes of silence. I stared out of the window, my face flushed. My hair was down around my neck. I was afraid to look at it in the rear-view mirror, to see if he had left a mark there. "I just... hated seeing the way he looked at you."

I turned to face him and saw that his eyes were on the road, looking sheepish.

"It's... okay." I stammered. "It... got him to go away, so..." I was afraid to tell him that I liked it and that I had fantasized about him doing that for so long. But that would ruin everything about our friendship.

He kind of already did that himself with the kiss, I told myself as we pulled into the driveway of my house.

As I was gathering my things, Robert was looking at me with an amused smirk on his face.

I felt my face flush even more. "What?"

"You plan on going anywhere tonight?"

"Celia's holding her birthday party tonight at her house. Why?"

"Just... wear your hair up when you go," he told me.

I felt my heart sink into the pit of my stomach, as I rushed out of the car.

~~

The hickey was even brighter than what I had feared it to be. I spent a good five minutes staring at it in the mirror of my bathroom as if I could will it to fade away. It instead only seemed to grow bigger.

I quickly covered my neck with my hair and started getting ready for Celia's party. If Adam happened to be there, then he would most definitely know where the hickey came from - he had witnessed Robert give it to me in the car park.

I showed up at Celia's house right at nightfall, and the party was already in full swing. Celia stumbled towards me as she exited the front door, giggling, barefoot, and already drunk. "You made it!" She threw her arms around my neck and handed me a plastic cup of something that smelled very strong.

She led me inside and the rest of our friends were playing drinking games. I however was unable to enjoy myself because I saw Adam watching me across the room.

So he had shown up after all. He didn't even like Celia. He didn't like any of my friends who didn't somehow benefit him, so why would he show up to her birthday celebration?

When Celia left me alone to get another drink from the bar, I had barely even sipped the strong substance that was in my plastic cup. It was also when I was alone that Adam decided to storm over to me, his glare piercing into me.

"So, you and Plant, huh!?" he demanded, so angry that I thought he was going to smack my cup out of my hands.

"W-what...?"

"Don't give me that shite. I saw you in the car park earlier this evening." His face was getting redder with rage the longer he spoke. "What do you see in him, huh!? Is it because he likes the same noise that you call music!? Is it because he got a job in a band with Jimmy fucking Page? Are you a rock star fucker now? Are you a groupie now?"

I backed away from him slowly but he wasn't finished yelling at me. He stalked towards me.

"Answer me, you whore!"

I backed into something solid and a pair of warm hands caught me to prevent me from falling. I turned around to find Robert standing over me; towering was more like it. He was so tall, he made everyone else around him look short.

He snaked his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. I felt my face go hot as he pressed his lips to my ear and told me to "just go along with it."

Adam's demeanor changed as he took in Robert holding me close to him. "What are you doing here, Robert?" Adam wasn't necessarily afraid of Robert but knew that if he tried to pick a fight with him, Bonzo would hunt him down and break his ribs.

"Attending a party with my girlfriend, how about you?" I felt myself jolt in shock at this claim. Robert gave me a slight reassuring squeeze. His tone wasn't friendly like it normally was. He glared daggers into Adam.

Adam narrowed his eyes, and I could see him trying to suppress a scowl of disgust. "Oh, so you've moved on so quickly?"

"I don't know what has your knickers in a bunch," Robert said while swishing his drink around in his cup. "From what I heard, you were the one who stepped out on the relationship, not her."

Adam didn't try to hide his scowl this time. "That isn't any of your business, Plant."

Robert's eyes met with Adam's his expression cold and angry. He turned to me, and his eyes melted into what looked like a warm ocean. "Let's get you another drink, love."

My heart melted when he called me "love." I looked down at the cup in my hands and didn't realize that I had been squeezing it so hard, I crushed it, causing the contents to spill everywhere.

I blinked as Robert led me away towards the bar. He asked me what I was drinking. I did not like whatever strong substance Celia had given me so I asked for something lighter.

"What are you doing here, Robert?" I asked him once he handed me my drink. He took a sip of what looked like whiskey.

"I saw Adam's car following us from the shop. I figured he would be following you to the party to try and get you to get back with him."

My stomach turned at the thought of Adam stalking me. "Why did you tell him we were dating?"

I felt Robert's eyes on my neck, which was still covered by my hair. "I thought we could pretend to be a couple to scare him off."

"Pretend?"

"Yeah. Like we did in the car. We don't actually have to do anything. Just... while he's still here."

This was completely unnecessary, and we both knew it, but the thought of Robert holding me again, of having his lips on my skin for any reason was too enticing. If it had been any other party, I would have just left and gone home early, but I wanted to be there for Celia.

I went back with my friends, and they were all playing Never Have I Ever with Celia, getting drunker by the minute. I sat down with them. They all recognized Robert and noticed his arm around me, and asked if we were a thing now. Robert responded yes, and I thought about how I was going to explain this to them in the morning.

Chances are, they'd be too drunk to remember anyway.

They poured us each a shot and the game picked up where it left off.

The questions got progressively raunchier ("never have I had a threesome" and "never have I ever eaten food off of someone's naked body" and "never have I ever eaten someone's arse out") all of which Robert drank to, and I sat there awkwardly holding my shot glass. The girls would giggle and say that Robert looked so cute and innocent, and that he didn't look like a sex fiend.

Adam had apparently been watching us because Robert would randomly kiss my neck and murmur in my ear sweet nothings. He was getting way too into the couple's facade for it to be just "pretend."

I had only had two shots out of the whole game, and was already feeling dizzy-headed. Celia told me where the guest bedroom was and Robert led me there with his arm around my waist.

"I'll stay out here and keep guard," he said while holding me upright. "To make sure that Adam doesn't come and try anything."

I leaned against him, my arms around his neck as I rested my head against his chest. He was so solid, so warm...

"No... come in with me... our cover is that we're a couple and it only makes sense to sleep in the same bed."

Robert led me inside. As soon as the door was closed, I pressed my lips hard against his, kissing him passionately, wanting to breathe him and take in every part of him. He kissed me back for a few moments, and I ran my hands through his soft hair, not caring about the consequences that would come in the morning.

"Let's get you ready for bed," he said while laying me down on the bed.

I sighed heavily and sprawled out on the bed with my legs apart, my skirt falling up around my hips. "Undress me..."

Robert's curls bounced as he shook his head, taking the comforter and covering me with it. "I'd want nothing more, but we should wait until you're sober."

I pouted and looked at him with big eyes. I tried sitting up but the quick movement made my head spin. I laid back down.

Robert took off his jacket and lay down beside me. I rested my head on his chest, breathing in his scent. I felt his hand run over my forehead and down my scalp, the feeling helping with my nausea.

Something about the two shots that I had made me candid, and I felt like I could say whatever I wanted, and claim that I didn't remember it in the morning, so I admitted what I would never admit sober: "I actually wish we weren't a pretend couple," I said while resting my head on his chest and my arms around his waist.

Robert looked down at me, as if he were contemplating whether or not I meant that or if it was the alcohol talking.

Finally, he pressed his lips to my forehead before saying "I've wished that same thing for years, Y/N..."

I had barely comprehended his confession before I felt the haze of sleep taking me over, and I fell into a sleep while blanketed in his warm embrace.

[spunsugarmusings]

Young Frankenstein: The Musical Starter Sentences

Starters from the Mel Brookes' hit musical Young Frankenstein. Change pronouns and tenses as necessary, and enjoy!

"What happened in that castle made our lives a living Hell!"

"We're the happiest town in town!"

"Hold the happiness!"

"Please, do I look like the kind of madman who'd prowl around graveyards, digging up freshly buried corpses?"

"I don't indulge in hijinks or tomfoolery!"

"I live for truth and reason, that's the reason I exist!"

"Hearts and lungs are simply tinker toys when stacked against the brain!"

"His reflexes have no freedom to react when I mistreat him."

"Those naughty thoughts are fine with me as long as they stay locked away in your imagination."

"You can savage me and ravage me; I care not what you do."

"Oh everybody look! How unique. They're not touching."

"Please keep your hands off these."

"It'll be like old time, you and me, right up there with the world's greatest pairs!"

"We've only met in a dream!"

"Up until now it's been the worst time, but now that you're here, we're a team!"

"What good is a stooge if he ain't got a boss?"

"I'm very high spirited, doctor. I hope you won't hold it against me."

"So, have you thought of any ways you could use me?"

"Nothing's better than a hayride, underneath the sun."

"There! There wolves!"

"There wolves, there castle!"

"Don't risk my curse, it could be worse!"

"Join the family business, learn the family trade!"

"Make yourself a monster, and make the world afraid!"

"Follow in our footsteps and you'll earn eternal fame!"

"As you know, predestination, from the day of your creation has determined you vocation, that's a fact!"

"Just relax, create a serum; come up with a brilliant theorum!"

"This is one position that you never can decline!"

"Love dances in on a whim."

"He was a bully and a brute, he was as crazy as a coot!"

"He was my boyfriend!"

"He always treated me like dirt!"

"But I was happy to be hurt!"

"I was an innocent young lamb, and he was a dirty old goat."

"He was the one I gave my heart to, but we were never wed, even so."

"If I'd mention wedlock, he put me in a headlock!"

"When I asked to be his wife, he stabbed me with a kitchen knife!"

"Where did all the good times go?!"

"If he had an angry fit, I was the first thing that he hit! But I didn't give a shit!"

"So, now we hurl the gauntlet of science into the frightful face of death itself."

"Death has ruled without question."

"Tear the night asunder, cast your light upon the dark!"

"Give my creature life!"

"We're considered both a Death and a Tourist Trap."

"Rich and poor are all soft-shoeing it in hotels or huts!"

"Even dogs are also doing it, pedigrees and mutts!"

"Do the Transylvania Mania!"

"Catch the monster before he strikes again!"

"Hello heartaches, goodbye kvellings."

"Let's forget about thinking, thinking's never smart."

"Flush your brain right down the drain, and listen to your heart!"

"Lose your mind, 'cause love is blind, and listen to your heart!"

"You'll find such bliss in the kissin' you're missin'."

"Intellectuals are ineffectuals when it comes to making love."

"Don't resist cupid's dart."

"Everybody loves to get a surprise."

"It all can change, if your fates arrange a nice surprise for you."

"There’s nothing like a wonderful surprise!"

"Here’s what we advise, never bother people with a surprise!"

"It's been so long since I felt the touch of someone's hand."

"Oh, Lord, let's face it, we're talkin' LONELY here!"

"You don't know your left from your right."

"You'll be the greatest creation of man since the invention of fire!"

"You'll be cheered, never feared evermore!"

"You know, until now my life has been nothing but a meaningless world of silly parties."

"Again? Oh, you're incouragable, aren't you?"

"We will take a hay ride when we're on our honeymoon!"

"Even monsters fall in love!"

[ejzah]

A/N: Shall we just pretend I didn’t forget about this story for ages?

***

Secrets and Lies, Part 8

“Mr. Forthright, I think it would be better if we went downstairs,” Kensi objected quickly as Bennet moved to open the bedroom door. Of course the creep would just have to pick the one room Deeks was inside. “Your wife might—”

Bennett pressed a finger to Kensi’s lips and if she didn’t have to keep him on her good side, she’d sincerely consider biting him. Instead, she gave him a playful look, while desperately thinking of how to move Bennett away from the door.

“Lisa is happily drinking her way through as many bottles of premium liquor as she can,” he replied. “And flirting with anything under 40 with a decent pair of biceps.” He chuckled. “She won’t even notice us missing. There’s no need to worry, Natalie.”

He opened the door, tugging Kensi inside with him, and turned a light on. For a horrible moment, Kensi feared they would need to take Deeks’ suggestion and incapacitate Bennett. Fortunately, the bedroom appeared empty.

She surreptitiously glanced around for any signs recent disturbance.

“Don’t be so shy. I don’t by. Well, not unless you ask,” Bennett chortled, taking her distraction to be hesitance. Kensi took a few more steps inside as he moved an impressionistic painting on the wall to reveal a small wall safe, which he unceremoniously unlocked. He motioned her even closer, removing a long, narrow navy box.

He took the lid off with a flourish, and Kensi made a not-at-all faked noise of shock at the sapphire necklace laying on a bed of velvet.

“See, I knew I would find something to catch your eye.”

“It’s lovely,” Kensi said truthfully.

“Would you like to try it on?” he asked, hooking the chain on his index finger.

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“I insist.”

Ignoring Kensi’s protests, Bennett made a circular motion with his hand, and she reluctantly spun around. His hands briefly flashed into view and then his fingers brushed along the back of her neck as he held it in place.

“Lovely, indeed. Just imagine this would be just the beginning,” he murmured in her ear. The next moment, he pressed his lips just below her ear, and Kensi jerked away.

“I think we should go back downstairs,” she said, taking a stepping out of reach.

“Kensi,” Callen said warningly in her ear.

Forthright stared back at her, a gleam in his eye, and she wondered if he was going to lash out physically. Or throw her out. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed.

“Natalie, I knew I liked you for a reason. Marty is certainly a lucky man.”

Still chuckling to himself, he placed the necklace back in its case, and returned it to its spot in the safe. Before he closed the door again, Kensi saw a glimpse of several stacks of money, and what appeared to be multiple passports.

When he finished, he turned around, presenting Kensi with his arm. She let him fold her hand into his elbow, casting one more look over her shoulder as he led her out of the room.

“Just remember, I have a lot to offer,” he reminded her. They walked downstairs together, Bennett chatting away.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Kensi said once they were among the rest of the guests again.

“Don’t be too long.”

Kensi made a noncommittal sound, and escaped to the bathroom. She closed herself inside the ridiculously spacious room, turning the water at one of the sinks on full-force.

“Deeks, please tell me you’re out of there.”

“Yeah, I’m headed your way. Are you ok?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine. And I’ll be even better if you got everything we need.”

“It’s too soon to tell,” Eric responded.

“Where were you hiding, by the way?” Kensi asked, taking the opportunity to center herself.

“The closer. I feel like I’m in a Marx Brothers movie or something,” Deeks responded with enough disgust that Kensi grinned. “I can safely say I’ve never hidden in a closet. Well, there was that time in high school, but that was a special circumstance.”

“Story time will have to wait,” Callen commented.

“Ok, I’m almost to you, Kens. Then we can get the hell out of here.”

“And not a moment too soon,” Kensi muttered to her reflection.

[betterbooktitles]

I had placed a stack of albums on the counter of a tiny strip mall record shop when my smartest writer friend called me out of the blue to tell me I should “always have a mistress.”

Relax. She meant a metaphorical mistress. That is, a writing project on the side. You have your main squeeze (a novel or a script) but then you flirt with the idea of writing a YA Romance or a Thriller or (god forbid) poetry. You need something to write that feels like a break from your “Big Project.”

I was staring at the cover of Tears for Fears’ Songs From The Big Chair, imagining the person I would be once I heard “Head Over Heels” on vinyl when my phone rang. I only had the ringer on because I was waiting for a potential call from a casting director. A certain late-night show sent out a casting notice for “shirtless man” and I, without any shame, turned on the lights in my wife’s office and had her take a few shots with my phone. I had the ringer on in case a stranger got my (half) nudes in an email, and said “That’s it! Get me that torso!” I’m sorry to say, enough time has passed without a call that you will not be seeing my chest on TV any time soon. Usually, my phone remains on silent when I’m out in the world. It also remains on silent when I’m at home because I’m staring at it all day anyway. Who needs to bring noise into that equation? If you call, I’ll see it.

Between the tone of her voice and the occasional swoosh of a car going by, I could tell my friend was driving and had me on speakerphone. She was on her way to lunch with someone on the business/agency side of Entertainment, heading to a mix of pleasurable banter over food with a friend but also a business-minded networking session with someone she hadn’t seen in 6 months. This call, pleasurable to me but in retrospect a bit of business since we talked instantly and almost entirely about work for 20 minutes, was eerily fortuitous. It was like she knew I was writing this week about work and relationships.

“You have the mistress project because it makes you feel young,” she said, telling me about her decision to write 50 pages of a Romance novel. “The problem is that you think ‘Maybe I should leave my wife for this younger project.’” She had submitted the first chunk of her frivolous manuscript to an agent, and, to her horror, the agent loved it. Now she has to live with it for a while. She has to explain to her previous project that they are either in a polyamorous marriage now or about to enter a trial separation. Plus, she had to see if the mistress project was wife material or if she’d fall into the same patterns as her previous relationship. OK. We get the metaphor.

“I’m afraid my new mistress is buying dollar records,” I said, watching the traffic go by, sipping from a lid-off paper cup full of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee that, between the time I’d spent looking at records and chatting in the parking lot, had turned cold. I felt the urge to rush back into the store and apologize to Timmy the manager for stepping out. I worried he’d already re-shelved my copy of The Go-Go’s Beauty And The Beat or that someone had seen the Tears For Fears on the top of “my” unpurchased heap and bought it for himself. This shopping trip was supposed to be an Artist Date (I guess the metaphor is still going), a weekly outing you do solo to engage with your Muse before journalling about it because a book called The Artist’s Way says it’s the only way to remain creative. You woo the Muse by engaging with art alone. Typically, I’d go to a museum or a movie by myself for my Artist Date but I’d had a record player for over 2 months and had only amassed a measly hundred-plus albums in my house so far. My next Artist Date will be a trip to IKEA to buy a shelf to hold more.

“No, Dan.” My brilliant friend said, “Replacing your main project with records or books is like saying you’re not going to have a mistress and instead get into sex dolls. You need a creative project.”

Read the rest of the essay here.