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captainfantasticalright · 1 year ago

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In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

On collaborating together:

Here is a video of Sir Terry saying why he chose to collaborate with Neil, another video talking about the technical difficulties of writing a book when the two of them where miles apart ,and some pages from Interzone Magazine Issue 207 published December 2006:

An Interview with Sir Terry Pratchett and his works- and Neil Gaiman, where he shortly addresses the process of writing Good Omens.

Terry shortly mentions,

“Neil doesn't rule out another book with me and he was good to write with...yep, it could happen. With anyone else? I don't know, but probably not.?”

Neil says,

"Terry took that initial 5,000 words of mine and ran it through the computer (because I’d lost the files in a computer crash) and made it the first 10,000 words, and it was definitely Good Omens at that point. Neither one thing nor the other, but a third thing.”

"I think Terry could do a very good impersonation of me if he needed to, and I could do a very good impersonation of him; so we knew the area of the Venn diagram in which we were working. But mostly the book found its own voice very quickly. It helped that we were both scarred by the William books when we were kids...”

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

More about the writing process:

Terry took the first 5,000 words and typed them into his word processor, and by the time he had finished they were the first 10,000 words. Terry had borrowed all the things about me that he thought were amusing, like my tendency back then to wear sunglasses even when it wasn't sunny, and given them, along with a vintage Bentley, to Crawleigh, who had now become Crowley. The Satanic Nurses were Satanic Nuns.

The book was under way.

We wrote the first draft in about nine weeks. Nine weeks of gloriously long phone calls, in which we would read each other what we'd written, and try to make the other one laugh. We'd plot, delightedly, and then hurry off the phone, determined to get to the next good bit before the other one could. We'd rewrite each other, footnote each other's pages, sometimes even footnote each other's footnotes. We would throw characters in, hand them off when we got stuck. We finished the book and decided we would only tell people a little about the writing process - we would tell them that Agnes Nutter was Terry's, and the Four Horsemen (and the Other Four Motorcyclists) were mine.

From the introduction to William the Antichrist:

“In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

If you want to read more details about William The Antichrist, here are some slides I made.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

Then I was reading The Jew of Malta by Kit Marlowe, and it has a bit where the three (cartoonishly evil) Jews compare notes on all the well-poisoning and suchlike they’d done that day, and as a Jew who never quite gets his act together, it occurred to me that if I were the third Jew I’d just be apologizing for having failed to poison a well… And suddenly I had the opening of a book. It would be called William the Antichrist. And it would begin with three Demons in a graveyard… (x).

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.” -Neil Gaiman

"Neil and I had known each other since early 1985. Doing it was our idea, not a publisher's deal." "I think this is an honest account of the process of writing Good Omens. It was fairly easy to keep track of because of the way we sent discs to one another, and because I was Keeper of the Official Master Copy I can say that I wrote a bit over two thirds of Good Omens. However, we were on the phone to each other every day, at least once. If you have an idea during a brainstorming session with another guy, whose idea is it? One guy goes and writes 2,000 words after thirty minutes on the phone, what exactly is the process that's happening? I did most of the physical writing because: 1) I had to. Neil had to keep Sandman going -- I could take time off from the DW; 2) One person has to be overall editor, and do all the stitching and filling and slicing and, as I've said before, it was me by agreement -- if it had been a graphic novel, it would have been Neil taking the chair for exactly the same reasons it was me for a novel; 3) I'm a selfish bastard and tried to write ahead to get to the good bits before Neil. Initially, I did most of Adam and the Them and Neil did most of the Four Horsemen, and everything else kind of got done by whoever -- by the end, large sections were being done by a composite creature called Terryandneil, whoever was actually hitting the keys. By agreement, I am allowed to say that Agnes Nutter, her life and death, was completely and utterly mine. And Neil proudly claims responsibility for the maggots. Neil's had a major influence on the opening scenes, me on the ending. In the end, it was this book done by two guys, who shared the money equally and did it for fun and wouldn't do it again for a big clock." "Yes, the maggot reversal was by me, with a gun to Neil's head (although he understood the reasons, it's just that he likes maggots). There couldn't be blood on Adam's hands, even blood spilled by third parties. No-one should die because he was alive." -("Terry Pratchett : His World”)

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

Another wonderful insight with Rob Wilkins in "The Worlds of Terry Pratchett".

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

#good omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens fun facts #the colour of magic #the colour of pratchett #space voyager magazine

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mariasont · 13 days ago

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That anon was living under a rock because your smut fics (all of your fics tbh!) I reread wayyy to many times, lol. But if you’re taking smut requests, I’d love to see more bimbo!reader and Hotch! I can’t get enough.

I’ll take anything!! But more specifically, their first time, all of that built up tension (that you write so perfectly!) finally breaks!

Anyways, I never send in requests but I saw a window of opportunity and had to take it, haha.

Third Date Rule - A.H

summary: the third date proves to be worth the wait when you and hotch experience your first time together. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexy time, fingering, oral fem receiving, p in v, they did not in fact wrap it before tapping it and it's not really discussed so yeah idk about that one, aftercare wc: 7.7k

This was so overdue.

Technically, it's only been three dates. Technically.

But if you count all the years you'd known him, the months spent daydreaming about this moment, the weeks of waiting while he played the world's longest game of restraint, then really, you should have had him naked ages ago.

And if Aaron (which still feels like a thrill to say — Aaron — because you're dating now and you can freely call him that) wasn't so stubborn and noble and insufferably gentlemanly, you would have.

But tonight was finally the night. The third date. The sacred, hallowed, much-debated, universally accepted gateway to getting into the sheets. And yes, okay, maybe you barely survived the wait without jumping his bones, but that's hardly relevant now. The point is, you did it.

And now you're in his lap, his tie wound tight around your fingers, his tongue deep in your mouth, and gods, if this night didn't end with him inside you, you might actually die.

Like, literally. Heart failure. Sudden death.

This was premeditated. At least, for you. You moisturized like your life depended on it, doused yourself in perfume that could be classified as a controlled substance, and selected a bra that made your tits look so insane, it might actually be illegal in some states.

And then you spent an embarrassing amount of time picking the perfect dress that says oh, I'm classy, but also please take me home and rip this off with your teeth.

You pull away, just enough to see him. To take in the slow bloom of pink trailing from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the way his pupils are so wide they’ve all but erased the brown of his eyes. And his lips — swollen and red from kissing you — part like he was debating how bad it would be to drag you right back in. You wouldn’t mind.

“Aaron,” you sigh, fingers burying into his hair, marveling at how absurdly soft it is, how freely he lets you have this piece of him. “We should go to bed.”

For a second, he locks up. Not hesitation but calibration, a body processing desire so sharp it might break him. You feel it in the way his chest expands, in the quiet exhale through his nose.

"This wasn't my plan for the night," he murmurs, voice softer now, not strained, but steeped in something much gentler. Something careful. "I wasn't —," He shakes his head, like the whole concept doesn’t sit right in his mouth. "I don't want you to think this is just —,"

"Sex?"

You can see the way he wants to argue, like he wants to carve the word out of the air and replace it with something that means more.

"Yes."

You can’t stop the stupid, lovestruck smile pulling at your lips. Maybe it’s the wine from dinner finally working its magic. (It’s not.) Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, all serious and earnest, like you’re the only thing in existence, and if he blinks, you might vanish. (It definitely is.)

A laugh bubbles up, light and giddy, body not knowing what to do with all this adoration. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, just to see if he’ll let you. (He does.)

“Are you serious? If you just wanted sex, you wouldn’t have spent actual years pretending my very dedicated, very expertly executed attempts to seduce you weren’t happening.”

His brow arches, but you see it for what it is — a stall. “Expertly, huh?”

"Remember that heatwave last summer? When I just had to eat a popsicle at my desk every afternoon?"

His eyes darken like the memory is playing in high definition behind his eyes.

"I remember."

"Do you?" Your fingers slip beneath his color. “Because —” You tilt your head. “I always seemed to finish them standing in front of your office —"

You don't even get to finish your sentence.

One second, you’re speaking, the next, you’re airborne. Lifted clean off the couch, legs locking around his waist automatically, arms thrown around his shoulders like you planned this all along.

You didn’t, but you wish you had.

Not that it matters, because he’s already moving, already walking straight to the bedroom.

You bury your smile against his jaw, letting your breath tickle against the shell of his ear as another giggle slips out. It couldn’t be helped.

"I really hope you know," you whisper, “that I am, like, stupidly excited for this. Like, counting down the days excited.”

Aaron sets you down on the mattress gently, but his body doesn’t follow right away, hovering over you.

"You're not making this easy for me."

You ignore him because you’re much more distracted by how insanely soft his sheets are. That was your first thought when your back hits the mattress, hair fanning across the pillows.

For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’ll catch the scent of your perfume tomorrow. If he’ll notice the ghost of you when he lays down alone.

Your second was that this is so not the time nor place to get emotional.

But this is his space. His bed. His room.

It’s tidy, but somehow not sterile, everything having its place, but not afraid to be used. A book sits on the nightstand, a book mark sticking out mid-thought. A photo frame faces the bed, though from this angle you struggle to see what’s inside.

There’s his suit jacket from yesterday, draped over the back of a chair, a little rumpled.

And maybe it's silly, but you feel weirdly honored to be here.

You should probably be processing this moment, what it means to be here, with him, like this. Instead, you take a second to admire the view.

The lamp softens the sharp lines of his face, making him look almost gentle — which is funny, considering how you hoped to be thoroughly destroyed by him.

Something expands inside you, stretching against the walls of your chest, something too big, something that terrifies you.

So you do what you do best. You deflect.

“I can’t believe I’m about to sleep with my boss.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his exasperation, his forehead dropping into the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart—,”

"What?" You giggle, letting your fingers slide through his hair, letting your nails rake lightly over his scalp. "It's true."

His sigh is nothing short of pained, but then he kisses your cheek anyway, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You were starting to feel like each was a thinly veiled attempt to tame you.

"Please don't phrase it like that."

"Yes, Mr. Hotchner."

Every self-satisfied thought evaporates the moment he kisses you – really kisses you.

It’s not just a meeting of lips but a focused intensity, tongue sweeping inside your mouth and suddenly nothing before this mattered, because clearly, clearly, every kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this one.

Your body responds before your mind can catch up, spine arching and he doesn’t stop you, just kisses you with a hunger that makes teasing obsolete, that makes breathing secondary to the way he’s taking from you, giving to you, all at once.

His lips wander, dragging across your jaw like he’s leaving invisible ink behind, pressing something permanent into your skin.

You hope you’ll wake up tomorrow and still feel him there.

Your hands move to the nape of his neck, drawn by craving, by the need circling inside you like a ribbon of fire.

It stretches outward, licking at your skin, threading through your veins. His hands hold you still, spanning over your rib. His breath fans over your pulse, and you swear he can feel how fast it’s racing.

You should be gloating right now. This is, after all, exactly what you wanted, what you worked for. A biting remark sits on the top of your tongue, but then his mouth moves, and he finds it.

That wicked, traitorous little dip beneath your jaw that turns your entire brain into pink, glittering static. He pauses, listening, feeling, before sealing his mouth over it again, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin like he’s testing a theory that he already knows the answer to.

Your fingers clench in his hair, a startled sound choking in your throat before you can stop it. And then, the bastard laughs. Not sweet, not kind, but low and sharp and smug because he knows exactly what he’s done.

You had the upper hand. Past tense.

"There it is," he murmurs, pressing another kiss there, his tongue flattening over it just to make you squirm. "You want to know how I figured this out?"

You hum, or try to. But it’s pathetic because you’re barely conscious, every cell fried to uselessness by his mouth.

He mimics you, just to be an ass about it, mocking the dazed little sound like he hasn’t just reduced you to it. "You always reached for it when I looked at you too long."

Your mouth opens. Closes.

"Or," he continues, "when I stood too close to you at the coffee machine. You'd fidget, tuck your hair behind your ear like you weren't thinking about it." His exhale burns against your pulse. "Cute."

You gasp, a little offended, mostly turned on. "Oh, wow. Profiling me? At work? That's, like, wildly unethical."

"Didn't need to," he murmurs. "You were practically begging me to figure you out."

His mouth is perfect in the way lightning is perfect – striking, searing, and completely out of your control. It’s perfect enough that you can pretend not to hear him.

He sucks, slow and hard enough to tear a sound from your lips before you even know it’s there, something that feels like vulnerability in its purest form. Something you would never willingly give him.

His laugh is quiet, wrecking, as he pulls back, lips slick with your skin. "That good?"

His mouth makes quick work, over your collarbone, down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, down, branding every inch of skin he can reach.

He stops at the neckline of your dress, and suddenly, you can't think about anything except how it's still on.

You want to strip it off, want to offer yourself up as a willing sacrifice, but you’re well aware that if you try, if you even reach, he’ll stop you. Or worse, he'll make you wait. He'll slow you down, draw it out just to watch you squirm because patience is his weapon of choice, because he lives for making you suffer.

His teeth graze the swell of your breast, just enough to sting, and whatever fragile grip you had on yourself disintegrates on impact. Your hands fumble blindly for his face, fingers shaking, needing to see his eyes.

"Please, Aaron.” It’s an exhale, a prayer. “Need you."

You see the ripple of tension along his throat. And for one tiny, blinding second you think this is when he finally snaps, abandons his tolerance and just takes you.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he rumbles. "I'm going to take my time."

You whine, frustration bleeding from your fingertips where they clutch his shoulders, fingers digging in like you can physically push him into moving faster.

He does not move faster.

His hands slide up to the straps of your dress, as he drags it down with all the urgency of a leisurely Sunday stroll.

Your mind is halfway through an exceptionally justified complaint about how slow he is moving when he folds the dress.

Folds it.

Sets it aside. Doesn't toss it.

And that may be the hottest thing he's ever done.

Because you know he knows. He’s always known. Known that your things aren’t just things — that your dresses, your heels, your overpriced lip glosses aren’t frivolous, aren’t some shallow indulgence, but tiny, curated pieces of you.

He has listened to you decide between two pairs of shoes that are, for all intent and purposes, identical. He knows jasmine is mysterious and vanilla is flirty, knows that you’ll debate your right to own the same three shades of pink.

And instead of dismissing it, instead of rolling his eyes (though he does that too), he folds your dress. As if it matters.

You stare at him, somewhere between melting and spontaneous combustion, and he simply raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

"No." You shake your head for emphasis, voice a little too weak to get the point across. "Just thinking I might have to marry you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers tracing over the pink lace like he’s trying to process it, like if he touches it enough times, it’ll confirm that this is actually happening and not some cruel illusion. His thumb brushes the scalloped edge, breathing shallow. You were pretty sure he’s currently having a full-scale existential meltdown over lingerie.

"Agreed," he murmurs, distracted, hooded eyes still glued to your chest. "I think the courthouse opens at eight."

Your giggle stutters, hiccups right out of you, because his hands are suddenly everywhere, roaming with no clear plan, just a man in crisis over how much of you he wants to touch first. His palms skate over your stomach, down your thighs, up over your breasts.

"So, this is all I had to do to convince you to do what I want?"

His mouth follows, retracting the path of his hands, rewriting, reworking, perfecting – because apparently, the first time wasn’t good enough, wasn’t thorough enough.

"You think this is what did it for me?" His voice is hushed. "You could've walked into my office six months ago and told me to get on one knee.” A kiss, open-mouthed, starving, just below your navel. “I would've done it."

Six months ago. You don't know if you believed that.

Except now you're spiraling, backtracking, rewinding, piecing together little details like some lovesick conspiracy theorist with red string and a bulletin board. Every interaction, every loaded glance, every time he let you get away with high-level flirtation without so much as a blink. You thought you were testing him, but what if he was never fighting at all?

And before you can even recover from that, before you can file an official grievance about why no one told you sooner, his hands squeeze at your thighs, his mouth so close to exactly where you need him, and his voice —

"You're so beautiful."

His nose presses into the damp center of your panties, and your hands fly to his hair so fast it’s practically reflex, breath stalling in your chest like your body forgot how to function for a second.

This is everything. What you've wanted, dreamed of, written in the margins of notebooks (hypothetically, of course).

It should be perfect, but suddenly, it isn't.

Uncertainty slips between the cracks, heat turning into something less solid. You don’t have time to find it, to name it, because he’s already there, already sensing it, already fixing it before you even know what’s wrong.

"Hey." His voice hooks into you, gently reeling you back from wherever your brain was about to go. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"No, I—," The words come out far too fast and desperate, and you can't decipher why it's so hard to say. "I do want to. Obviously." The nervous laugh that follows is definitely not your usual flirty confidence. "Have you met yourself? Because if you haven't, I would love to introduce you. Tall, devastatingly handsome — you'd love him."

His move curves, but his eyes stay patient and focused, giving you a second to breathe.

"It's just..." Another pause, another frustrated sigh. "I haven't been with anyone in a while."

"That's okay, we can take it slow." He moves so that he's hovering above you again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his smile just amused enough to leave you flustered. "How long?"

"May."

"May?"

"Yeah, like, May. Three years ago."

Aaron just stares at you, processing. You can see the gears turning, the little mental loading wheel spinning, his expression caught between stunned and deeply interested.

His fingers creep up, sliding under your ribs, just close enough to the heavy swell of your tits to remind you exactly where you are. What he was doing to you before you so rudely derailed this into actual conversation.

"Really?"

You pinch his arm. "Hey! That is not an absurd amount of time."

"No. I know. I didn’t say that," he says quickly. "I'm just... surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His lips part and he immediately shakes his head, exhaling like he's physically trying to dispel what just ran through your mind, knowing exactly where your thoughts were.

"I just mean — I don't know how every man you meet doesn't immediately worship the ground you walk on."

"Oh, well, they do." You smile. "But I was only ever planning on letting one of them take me to bed."

You reach for his dress shirt buttons, tugging insistently, but your hands refuse to cooperate, not properly communicating with your brain.

It's his fault, you decide.

He looks too good, and it was extremely hard to focus on anything but that.

You have no idea how you survived dinner. Or the car ride home. Or even the eternity it took to get past the door, because that was definitely a struggle considering your mouth was all over his, tasting the whiskey he’d barely touched, before he could even get the key in the lock.

You spent all night picturing this, the way his hands would feel in you, the way his mouth would taste, the way his suit would look crumpled on the floor.

Which, in hindsight, probably meant you were a pretty terrible dinner guest. Nodding, smiling, pretending to listen, all while barely holding back the need to ride him in public.

Aaron laughs, clearly entertained by your struggle, and then, because he’s nothing if not arrogant, he starts undoing the buttons one-handed, to be a show-off.

It’s rude, really. Because now all you can do is watch, helpless as he peels himself open to reveal golden skin, dark hair dusting over firm pecs, trailing lower, disappearing beneath his belt.

Your manicured fingers glide over the broad expanse of his shoulders, pushing his shirt away like uncovering some lost Renaissance painting that scholars would kill to get their hands on — something that should be in a temperature-controlled glass case, not just here, sprawled above you like he belongs to you. Which, he does, because he’s just letting you do this, letting you look. And you look. He is art. No, better than art. Art is stationary, lifeless, some brushstroke interpretation of what beauty should be. But this, him, he is warmth and breath and muscle.

Museums wish they had something this valuable. They’d burn down in despair if they knew he existed just for you.

"May," he muses, letting the word roll off his tongue, turning it over in his mind. "That's an oddly specific answer."

You make a vague sound of agreement, mostly just to acknowledge that yes, technically, he did say words, but you’re too busy to actually care. Too busy with spreading your hands over the planes of his chest, with grabbing at his belt.

"You were hired in May three years ago."

Your hands freeze.

"That's... um weird." A slow blink. "Weird that you know that. Weirder that you noticed."

You work his belt loose, tugging it free. It’s meant to be a distraction, a well-placed touch to shift his focus from his revelation.

But then your plan backfires spectacularly because he’s hard, thick, unreasonably big and suddenly your fingers feel useless.

Aaron makes a sound — half a hiss, half a laugh — and his hands snap to your wrist, catching you before you can explore further, like he knew you were going to do that. "It’s okay, honey."

"I—I don't—," You blink up at him, floundering, desperately trying to sound casual. "That's, uh, I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Aaron’s smirk deepens, his grip on you slackening just enough to trick you into thinking he’s going to be nice.

But then his other hand moves, slipping between your bodies, sliding beneath the heat trapped between your thighs, finding the neediest part of you, and pressing.

Your whole body jerks, a startled gasp catching in your throat as sensation flares — hot, sharp, mercilessly good.

His fingers start to move, rubbing tight circles against you. Your hands cling, one locked onto his bare shoulders, the other pressing against his dick, desperate to make him feel even a fraction of what he's doing to you.

It earns you a groan, low and gritty, hips twitching against your palm, his breath is hot against your lips, his mouth hovering just barely out of reach.

"I won't tease," he promises, but the way he bites at your bottom lip feels like a lie. His tongue is quick to follow, flicking over the welt he’s just left, soothing the burn before sealing it with a kiss, just this side of messy. “Three years… that’s a long time.” His lips skim yours again. “For both of us.”

A pleased sound bubbles up from your throat, slipping between his lips, that makes it obnoxiously clear just how much you love those words. That is a sentence you’d like embroidered on a pillow. Maybe cross-stitched into a nice, elegant frame for your future shared bedroom.

"Oh," you sigh, a smile stretching against his lips. "I really, really, like knowing that. That's, like, incredible news."

Your brows scrunch, and you pull back just an inch.

"Just to be clear, though, you do mean in a wow, you've ruined me for other women way, and not in a I've been to busy for a sex life way, right? Because those are two different things, and I need to know which one we're working with here—"

Aaron huffs a laugh and instead of answering with words, his hands slip into your panties, fingers finding your clit without prelude. Skin to skin now, no fabric, no flimsy barrier. Just touch.

His fingers dip lower, dragging through the slick, indecent in how easily he moves through the mess of you. He makes a noise — nearly a groan, mostly a hum of appreciation, of possession — before he spreads it, smearing your own arousal over your clit, rolling circles.

"Oh, wow, sweetheart."

Your thighs fall open like you have no say in it — because you don’t, because every instinct in you is reaching for him, needing it like a fix.

And maybe, maybe that should be embarrassing — the obvious, shameless way you seek him out — but it’s a gorgeous kind of humiliation, a flush that spreads lower.

"Well," you gasp, chest rising in stuttering little pants. "Y—you kept me waiting forever."

Aaron hushes you with a soft tsk, his fingers pressing, stroking, coaxing you into sweet, mindless submission. Every movement feels preordained, like he already knows your body, like he’s a man who’s spent years thinking about this.

"I know, sweetheart," he soothes, murmuring it against the fragile skin beneath your ear, punctuating it with a kiss. "But I think I'm making up for lost time pretty well."

"I guess," you manage. "Th—that's acceptable."

Aaron chuckles, the vibration traveling straight into your skin. His lips descend, an idolization thing, but it’s the kind of devotion that sets you on fire.

His hands spread over your thighs, parting them gently.

Your underwear drags down, slipping over your thighs, grazing the curve of your knees, and then off. And suddenly, there's nothing separating you from his eyes, from the way the air licks over you, cool against the sticky heat between your thighs.

His lips part like he wasn't expecting to fall apart so easily. Like he thought he'd have more time, more control. And the power in it, the sheer, intoxicating power of knowing he's just as affected as you are, that this is breaking him open, makes your skin fizz, burn, ache for him even more.

If someone had told you a year ago that Aaron Hotchner, mister all-business-all-the-time, would be between your legs, staring at you like he's never seen anything more perfect, you would have said something nonsensical. Something about fate. Or destiny.

And you would have been right. Because you always knew this was a definite.

"Oh, honey.... You're gorgeous," It's almost a whisper, like the words were dragged out of him against his will, stolen straight from his lungs the second his eyes landed on you. His gaze drinks you in, head tilting, lips parting, tongue skating over the swell of his bottom lip. “I knew you would be, but…”

A sharp, sizzling spark races up your spine, white-hot and unbearable, but when it should tip over into relief, it withers into frustration. The kind that makes your body revolt against the absence of touch. Your hips buck, thighs squeezing as if you can somehow force the friction you’re being deprived of.

"Give me a second, baby," he teases, caressing his nose along the inside of your thigh. "Just wanna look at you."

His mouth moves in decadent passes, open-mouthed kisses pressed into your inner thigh.

Another kiss. Then another. So close.

Then he detours. Veers off, pressing his lips into the dip of your hip instead, dragging his tongue along something that is not your clit.

"So perfect."

His fingers prod through your folds, parting you, fingertips wading through the slickness pooling at your entrance. The sound that spills from him is sinful.

All of your muscles coiling tight, every inch of you scorching with unmet need and just when you think you're going to have to beg him, just when the words start to form —

He gives in.

His tongue is there first, dragging a flat, broad stripe through your center, licking over every hypersensitive inch of you before looking up at you through hooded eyes. You swear you nearly come from the sight alone.

"Knew you'd be sweet."

Aaron doesn't waste another second, burying himself in you, mouth moving like he's been ravenous for this.

His grip is firm as he spreads you wider, keeping you at his mercy. His lips wrap around your clit for a split second before he moves again, tasing, licking, humming, lapping up everything you're giving him.

It's messy. Wet. Dripping. His mouth moves as he tries to wreck himself on you. Each second convincing you that he wouldn’t mind suffocating here if it meant another taste.

His nose nudges against you, the angle so cruelly perfect it sends another violent tremor through your body, legs jumping against his shoulders. Your fingers grasp blindly for purchase, gripping the sheets, tangling in his hair, at anything you can reach.

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs into you, words muffled by your pussy. "Let me hear you."

"Oh — " The sound falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block out the overwhelming pleasure if you just try hard enough. "Oh, that's — "

Your hips stutter, thighs tightening around his face.

Aaron chuckles darkly, and you feel it more than you hear it, the sound pulsing through your core.

You’re not sure you have a body anymore, not sure you exist outside of this moment. You’re just sensation, just trembling atoms held together only by his hands, his breath, his voice. There’s no past or future – just now, just him.

If this is what it means to transcend, to be unraveled and rewritten in the same breath, then let it consume you whole. You could die like this, and it would be the kindest death you could ever ask for.

A single finger ghosts over your entrance, teasing but never quite committing. He dips in, just the barest of intrusion, and you shudder, clenching around nothing because it’s gone just as fast.

He waits, just long enough to hear the next breathy fussing before finally spearing back in. Your eyes flutter shut, breath breaking apart in little puffs.

The sounds coming from your cunt should embarrass you, sticky, so shockingly loud that if your brain was working, you’d be mortified. But it’s not working. Not even a little.

His hand flattens over your stomach and suddenly the pressure doubles, triples.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, "feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes, oh my gods, Aaron, I—"

Your normal senses have left the building. Packed its bags, hit the road, abandoned you to whatever dark magic this is. Because this —this isn’t how your body works. This isn’t how guys work. You don’t come from this.

But here you are, hurtling toward it at full speed and all because he decided you would.

It’s happening too fast, the pressure stacking. Your thighs shake open, stomach clenching so hard it aches. Your mind is lagging behind, still reeling, still trying to rationalize but it doesn’t matter because your body has already made its choice, has already given in, has already decided this is happening, whether you’re ready for it or not.

"Aaron, I think—,"

Aaron just groans, finishing your sentence for you, lapping up your confession with his tongue,

"I know, baby." Hot air blows against your swollen clit. "Let me feel it."

It crashes over you, back bowing off the bed. Your body splinters apart, thighs trembling so hard you couldn’t stop them if you tried. The edges of your vision smear into nothing as the pleasure consumes everything in its path.

His mouth stays on you, tongue and fingers pushing you through the aftershocks until you’re clawing at the sheets, until that pleasure tilts so far into oversensitivity that makes you unaware if you’re pulling him closer or pushing him away.

Your limbs feel like liquid, consolidating into every inch of your body, melting into the mattress as Aaron moves to be face to face with you.

He's looking at you like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to this planet, and maybe he is, because when his lips get close enough, you tug him the rest of the way down, crashing your mouth into his in a way that's all sloppy desperation.

You can taste yourself on him, can feel the way he groans into it when you sigh against his mouth, all soft and dreamy and drunk on gratification.

When you pull back, your fingers card through his hair, fixing nothing but feeling everything.

"Oh my gosh," you gasp, dissolving into giggles, toes curling as you flop back against the pillows. "I knew you'd be good at that, obviously, but I wasn't expecting all that. Like wow, you should get a certificate of excellence or something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically, "Or like, a trophy, a raise, a sash that says best head giver in gold letters—," You pause for a breath, sucking in air like you just realized how winded you are.

"— and I mean, I've never come like that before. So. You should probably put that on your résumé."

When Aaron presses against you, you feel every inch of him. Thick and unfortunately still restrained. His slacks are a cruel barrier, the rough drag of the fabric catching your clit in a way that rips a whimper straight from your throat.

His teeth scrape along your jaw, then he's mouthing at your neck, sucking, teasing, marking you.

"Firstly," he murmurs. "I hate the idea of anyone else touching you."

An involuntary shiver rolls through you.

"And secondly," he continues, "the fact that they didn't even know how."

Your hands are frantic as they fly to his waistband, fumbling a bit, the last hindrance between you offensive in its existence.

"Well, yeah," you sigh, looking up at him through fluttering lashes, glossy lips parted just for him. "I mean, you're literally the only one who's ever known what to do with me. That has to mean something, right? Like, cosmic destiny or whatever."

Aaron shoves his pants and briefs off, barely sparing them a second thought, and then he's back, fitted between your thighs.

"You already know the answer to that." His lips brush your temple. "I'm the only one who knows how to handle you. And I plan on proving it."

"Yeah, okay," you say, squirming beneath him. "Not gonna argue when that sounds like the best idea ever."

You've seen a lot of versions of Aaron. You've seen work Aaron, serious and bossy, looking at crime scenes like he can hear the evidence whispering just to him. You've seen grumpy Aaron, glaring over his coffee when you talk too much at morning briefings (but you know he likes it, he just won't say). You've seen soft Aaron, the one who lets you steal his jacket even though you definitely don't need it.

But you've never seen this Aaron. This post-kissing-you Aaron. Lips slick, still damp with you, evidence of where he’s been, what he’s done.

His eyes flick to yours, and there’s no shame, no rush to wipe it away. If anything, he tilts his head, letting you see it from a better angle.

"You're so handsome, Aaron." Your voice trembles. You don't even know if you said it out loud or just thought it so hard he must have heard it anyway.

"And you,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb over your cheek, “are so damn sweet, honey."

You beam at that, overwhelmed, so unbelievably happy that your thoughts are practically spilling out faster than you can catch them.

"Okay so I just need to say — this is so exciting, like, you do realize I've had a crush on you for years, right? And now this is actually happening, and that's just — wow."

You suck in a sharp breath, nails dragging over the thick muscles of his arms, across his shoulders.

"I mean, it's us, Aaron. Can you believe that? Like, I feel like this has been building for so long and now I'm just — gods, you're so hot, this is actually distracting me. I can't even finish my own thought —,"

You laugh, because you already feel so full of him and he isn't even inside you yet.

"And I know you're being all careful and slow because you're sweet and romantic and, like, the most perfect man alive, but also —,"

You grind up, chasing friction, his cock sliding just right over your clit. Your breath stutters, hands fisting at the nape of his neck as you try to remember what you were saying.

" — I'm literally at your mercy right now, so you should probably take advantage of that before I —,"

"You talk so much, baby."

And then he shuts you up. Hard.

His mouth rams into yours, ingesting the comment, the breath, everything.

He doesn't rush.

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance before he finally, slowly, pushes inside.

It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your mouth parts against his, lips catching on his as a little sigh slips out. Your nails dig into his shoulders, helpless against the way he's opening you up.

He stills, a sharp, fractured inhale slicing through the air, fingers digging into your hips — hard. He is struggling. You can feel it. The way his cock twitches inside you, like his body is screaming at him to move.

"I-I'm good." Your laugh wobbles, catches at the edges, barely disguising how badly you want him to believe you. "You can keep going."

"You're tensing because it's been a while." You don't mean to, but your body reacts before your brain can tell it not to, stiffening. Stupid, stupid. His exhale is shaky, and his lips press against your cheek. "I know that. I expected that."

You swallow, but it doesn't help.

"I also know that you think if I notice, I'll stop." His forehead rests against yours. "But I need you to hear me, baby. I'm not stopping."

His lips graze yours.

"I'm going to work you through this. Just let me in, princess."

And the second you do, the second you finally give in —

He groans, pushing deeper, stretching you completely, filling you to the hilt.

"There we go," he breathes, wrecked with praise. His hand presses to your lower belly, feeling how deep he is, how well you take him. "That's my good girl."

Your head tilts back, lips parting, body doing the melty thing that feels really, really nice but also really, really dangerous because you swear you're seconds away from levitating straight out of your own skin.

"Okay, so I did think this would feel good —," Your fingers twitch against his chest, nails raking lightly over sweat-damp skin as another sharp moan tumbles free. "— but, um, wow, this is like — this is so —,"

Your words taper off, get lost somewhere between your psyche and your mouth, because oh. Oh, wow. He's so deep, so heavy inside you, pressing into places you didn't even know existed.

"Go on, baby," he murmurs, a smirk plastered across handsome features as he dips his head. "You were saying?"

"You know," you gasp, words all flimsy and loose, like they've been shaken up inside you, "I kinda always wondered how big you were —"

Your breath hooks halfway through, hiccups on a moan, brain scrambling to keep up with your mouth, your mouth scrambling to keep up with — him.

"Not that I, um — I stared at your pants or anything —" Another sharp inhale, another desperate moan, your walls fluctuating and squeezing around something too thick. "I mean, I try not to because I'm a professional —"

An involuntary clench makes him curse, makes his fingers dip into your hips, makes his head plunge forward hard against your shoulder.

"Honey, shit—,"

Your lashes flutter. "What?"

"Sweetheart, if you keep squeezing me like that while you ramble about my cock, I'm not going to last."

Your mouth clicks shut promptly.

"That's what I thought."

Hotch rocks his hips, just once, a sharp gasp fissuring from your lips like you weren't expecting it.

"Jesus, sweetheart. You're trembling." He cups your cheek, his thumb skimming over your bottom lip, eyes dark and aflame. "Does it feel that good?"

You nod, and he hums, dragging his cock almost all the way out before pushing back in.

His hand drags down your waist, spans over your belly, fingers pressing like he's charting the way he fits inside you.

"I used to tell myself I wouldn't do this," he admits. "That I wouldn't touch you. Wouldn't ruin you like this."

Your head lolls back, eyes fluttering, lips parted prettily, gasping as he rocks into you again, and again, and again. You shake your head, or at least, you think you do.

"You don't —" You try to shape words, but they liquefy on your tongue. "Don't ruin me, Aaron, you — oh, you make me —"

Hotch's throat bobs, his pupils blown.

"You make me so, so good, so soft, so perfect."

His hand cups your jaw. "You're already all of those things, sweetheart."

"Not before you," you sigh. "I've been waiting so long, Aaron, so, so long —"

"I know, baby," he groans. "I know."

His hand veers between your bodies, his fingers finding the swollen, neglected bundle of nerves.

“Aaron — oh, wait, wait, wait —,” Your hands shoot up to his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can, I mean, I can, but it’s just —,”

His cock throbs inside you, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he finds it again, harder this time, his fingers matching the pace.

“Too much?”

“Yes, no, kind of? I don’t know, I can’t—,” You choke on your own breath as another thrust knocks every last rumination from your head. “I can’t think.”

“Good.” His forehead presses against yours, his lips parting against your mouth, panting, his control slipping. “I don’t want you thinking. Just feel me, sweetheart. Feel what I’m doing to you.”

Your body is shaking, shaking so hard that you don’t even know if you’re moving or if he’s just pushing you through it.

“I know, baby. But you can take it, can’t you?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, body twitching.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, groaning as he grinds into you, stretching it. “One more, honey. You can give me one more.”

It hits you slowly, unwinding through your organs like smelted honey.

“Oh, oh —,” Your breath falters, mind going blank, the pleasure overwhelming every nerve in your body until you can’t do anything but let it consume you.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling you clench around him so tight it nearly undoes him.

You barely register the way you’re gasping, twitching, babbling out breathless little moans, vision blurring, and for a second you think you might black out.

“That’s it, princess,” he rasps, fucking you through it the reverberations. “So, so good for me.”

His pace turns shallow, sharp, chasing the tight, perfect squeezing of you still thrashing around him.

“You’re so tight, honey,” he grits, hands bruising your hips, your breath still catching from your own orgasm.

You’re too gone to respond, too wrung out to do anything but whimper as he takes you, using your body to pull himself over the edge.

He groans, low and deep, his fingers tangling in your hair, his mouth ghosting over your cheek as he finally breaks.

A shudder, a muttered curse, his body jerking, hips slamming into yours as he spills inside you.

He doesn’t mean to collapse, you know that, because even as his body gives out, his arms brace, still trying to be careful, even now. You want to cling to him, lock your legs around his waist, but you barely remember how to move, so you just let out a sleepy sound, nuzzling blindly at his throat.

He murmurs something low, something that sounds like praise, maybe worship.

His lips press to the side of your face, half-gone and still recovering, and then his muscles tense, trying to lift himself off you.

Your arms wind around his neck before he can get too far.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, “I’m crushing you.”

“Don’t care,” you mumble, voice a little hoarse. “Feels nice.”

“You did so good.”

When he finally pulls out, you feel the loss and everything that comes with it, his release sticky and warm beneath your thighs.

Aaron disappears into the bathroom, and you barely have time to miss him before he’s back with a warm cloth in hand.

You giggle, squirming before he even touches you, already restless, and the second he presses the cloth to your inner thighs, you jerk, laughing helplessly.

“Oh, wait —,”

Aaron sighs, one hand pressing against your hip to keep you still. “Sweetheart. You have to let me clean you up”

“But it tickles—,”

He smirks and continues his work. “How do you feel?”

“Like I saw god actually,” you ramble, kicking your feet against the sheets. “Or, like, like, if I had to describe it, I’d say I transcended reality for a little bit —,”

Aaron just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee as he finishes cleaning you up. Each swipe reminds you that your legs might not be on speaking terms with you tomorrow.

When he’s done his mouth finds yours again. It’s easy to kiss him. If it were physically possible to stay attached to him, twenty-four hours a day, you’d gladly test the theory.

“Worth the wait,” he breathes into your mouth.

“Well, yeah,” you murmur, smirking up at him. “I figured it would be for you.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, baby, you were good,” he mutters, kissing right over your stuttering pulse. “You were so good.” Another kiss. “So good I’m already thinking about the next time.”

Your heart hasn’t even slowed down, and you’re already thinking about the next time. Already plotting, already ready to drag him back down and see just how quickly that next time could turn into right now. But before you can so much as tug at him — Aaron is rolling out of bed, pulling on his pants, disappearing into the kitchen.

You mean to protest, to demand why he left you alone in a post-bliss haze, but then he’s back, pressing a glass of water into your hand, watching you drink it like it’s his personal responsibility.

Then comes food, something light and something he feeds you between kisses, between lazy murmurs about nothing.

At some point, the blankets are back over you, his lips pressing against your forehead, his voice saying something about getting some sleep before you got any ideas, before pulling you against him.

You hum, content and drowsy, shifting a little, rolling over to get more comfortable —

And then your eyes land on that photo frame from earlier. You had a clear view of it now.

It was you.

It takes you a second to place it, but once you do, you almost laugh. You know this photo — because Garcia took it. She printed it out months ago, probably as some ridiculous gag, and stuck it to Aaron’s office wall with a bright sticky note that read your favorite obviously. You’d rolled your eyes at the time, called it workplace favoritism, but he’d never taken it down.

And now, somehow, it’s framed. On his nightstand, like he’s been looking at you every night for —

You don’t finish the thought.

Instead, you just smile, huge and uncontrollable.

He doesn’t say anything.

And you don’t need him to.

Because you already know.

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l-starsz · 11 days ago

Note

could you please write some smut where r and billie are coming home from a party theyre both drunk and end up fucking in the pool late at night (the pool has red led lights) (add strap please🙏🏼) r has been a brat all night so billie is like kinda mean and degrades her

THANK YOU

a/n: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK AGES FOR ME TO WRITE BUT I HOPE THIS IS GOOD🫶

as i rushed to get ready, billie was laying on our bed. she was completely chilled out whilst i was stressing about how i was going to make us late. billie had previously been rushing me, since we had to be there soon in order to not be too late. she eventually resorted to waiting in bed whilst scrolling through her phone, glancing over to me every so often.

"cmon angelll, are you nearly ready?" she practically whined.

"i'm about to be ready bil, promise." i giggled, "can you help me with my eyeliner please?"

"of course, pretty girl." she smiled, getting up from the bed and walking towards me.

i held the eyeliner pencil out towards her, which she soon enough took. she was about to start when she gave me a questioning look, and i knew exactly what she was thinking.

"sit on my lap." i whispered, gently holding her hips and pulling her closer to me.

she didn't complain, and let me practically pull her onto me, before taking the lid off my eyeliner and getting closer to my face. she was being so gentle, careful not to hurt me or poke me with it. after a few short minutes, she was completely finished.

i looked in the mirror with a smile on my face.

"perfect, thank you, baby." i thanked her, then placed a gentle kiss on her lips, my lipstick and lipgloss transferring slightly onto her lips.

i pulled her further into my arms for a minute or so, before she whispered to me that we needed to leave. we were both finally ready, and it was looking like we would still be pretty on time, so we left as quick as we could.

hours passed, we stuck together the whole time we were there, but were both a little drunk. we'd definitely had too much to drink. we were practically all over eachother, whilst the music echoed loud, making us even more touchy.

"can we go somewhere quieter, love?" i heard her whisper into my ear as my back pressed against her chest.

"hmmm, i don't know, i'm quite happy staying here." i smirked.

i'd been planning to tease her, and be bratty. i needed to see how she'd react. and i was hoping she'd maybe punish me too.

the whole night i had been talking back to her, trying to get a reaction from her. but she didn't react. all i got was her rolling her eyes at my words, or her grip tightening on my skin. she didn't push me, but i could tell that she was getting impatient. the alcohol running through us wasn't helping either.

obviously i was desperate for her, but i needed to keep my act up. i needed to make sure i got some sort of reaction from her.

it was only a matter of time before one of our friends came over to us, offering to drop us off on their way home. we hesitated at first, wanting to stay longer and continue our fun, but when our friend brought up how drunk we were, we accepted.

it didn't take long to get home at all, since we lived nearby. we thanked our friend as we got out, letting out drunken giggles as we walked up the driveway towards the front door.

billie had the keys, and she fiddled with them for a bit, trying to find the right one whilst almost dropping them on the floor in the process. this just made us laugh more, and when she finally managed to open the door, get us both inside, and then lock the door behind her, we stumbled straight upstairs.

i flopped onto the bed, whilst billie looked for comfier clothes. i was waiting for her, when i got an idea. a small smirk appeared on my face when i opened my mouth to speak.

"bils? can we go in the pool?"

she turned around with a smile, but then her eyebrows furrowed.

"we don't have anything to wear.. i have no idea where our swimming costumes are."

i groaned and threw my head back out of frustration. i wanted to tease her more. i knew exactly what i wanted to wear to push her over the edge, but obviously that wasnt happening. however, another brilliant idea popped into my mind as i was trying to think of solutions. why did neither of us think of it before?

"we can always go in naked?" i suggested, rolling onto my side and reaching my hands out for her to come towards me.

as my hands landed on her waist, i tugged at her clothes. i was getting desperate for her. i was supposed to be bratty, and instead i was needy. i needed to change my attitude. i had time to be needy later. at least i hoped.

she moved away from my slightly, and pulled me up onto my feet, attempting to pull my clothes off. i shook my head and moved back.

"hmm i think i changed my mind.. it'll be more fun with our clothes on."

i knew that she wanted my clothes off. as much as she loved my outfit, which consisted of the shortest skirt i could find, it only just covered me up, but one wrong movement and everyone would've seen my underwear, which billie had picked out for me before we left. i was also wearing a tight shirt, and no bra, so it was safe to say billie was worked up. and it didn't help that i was talking back, and ignoring her requests. the alcohol made both of us needy, but my defiance made her want need to punish me, and fuck some sense into me somehow.

her tongue poked the inside of her cheek, and i could tell she was getting frustrated.

"you know what? go wait by the pool i'll be out in a few minutes."

i was confused, but i had to keep my act up.

i crossed my arms and shook my head, walking back over to sit on the edge of the bed. my hips swayed as i walked, making sure she saw.

a sigh left her mouth, before she grabbed something from the wardrbe, and walked downstairs without me. i decided it would make her more mad if i didn't follow at all, so i stayed put, looking for my phone which i must've misplaced. i was always more forgetful when i was drunk.

i waited for about five minutes, before realising she wasn't coming back. she was waiting downstairs and wasn't coming to get me. she knew exactly what i was up to. she'd known all night.

i groaned, then headed downstairs, straight outside to where our pool was. there were two towels folded and waiting on one of the chairs by the pool, and i took notice of them before my eyes drifted over to billie, who was completely naked in the pool.

i could only make out her tits under the water, and my eyes were glued to them.

"coming in, angel?" i saw her smirk, the red lights surrounding the pool making it slightly more difficult for me to see her.

"i.. yeah." i managed to stutter out.

i walked over to the side of the pool which was closest to her, before removing my clothes as slow as i possibly could. i first started with my shirt, taking my time to lift it up so that it sat just under my boobs. i pushed the waistband of my skirt down, exposing my underwear slightly, but not quite enough for her liking.

i could see on her face that she was mad, but she was trying her best to hide it. i could see right through her though. i eventually took my top off, letting it fall to the floor.

my skirt slowly followed, and all that was left was my underwear. i thought about leaving them on, but i knew that as much as it would tease billie and test her limits, it would be so uncomfortable.

i slid them off my body, being careful not to lose my balance as i wandered over to the edge of the pool. we were obviously still pretty drunk, so i knew that the second i was next to her, we would be all over eachother once again.

i made my way over to the steps, slowly getting closer to her, whilst she stayed exactly where she was. i made sure to take my time, but as soon as i was facing her, her hands attached to my waist like a magnet, pulling me close.

"you think you're smart teasing me, hm? being a brat? such a needy fucking slut for my attention."

her words were slightly slurred as the gap almost closed between us. i couldn't hold back any longer. i practically pounced on her, my lips finding hers straight away.

she kissed back slightly, before pulling away. she lifted me into her arms, my legs wrapped around her waist, but i felt something. had she kept her underwear on? i was about to ask, when something was slammed inside me. and it would only be one thing.

she had her strap attached around her waist. the one she knew was just that tiny bit too big for me, that made me overstimulated in a matter of seconds. a moan echoed from my mouth, straight down her ear.

she wasted no time speeding her movements to pleasure me, but not for long. i knew it wasn't going to be so simple. i didn't know what she had in mind, but i just needed her. her grip on my waist was enough to leave marks, and her speech was slurred as she thrusted into me. it was a good job i was so wet, otherwise it would've made things more difficult.

"such a desperate, needy slut, isn't that right, love?"

my cries and moans grew so much louder upon hearing her words, my body limp in her arms as i was so close to finishing.

"cmon, need you to answer me. can't just ignore me, baby. that's not nice, is it?"

my moans sounded like sobs as i tried so hard to get the words out for her. i was hoping that our neighbours were sleeping, because i was definitely loud enough for anyone to hear me.

"i'm not even going to think about letting you cum if you don't answer me."

her speech was slurred from the alcohol, but also muffled as her lips pressed against my neck. i felt her sucking marks over me, whilst one of her hands reached my clit, adding onto the other sensations, bringing me right to the edge.

part of me wanted to say it, so that she'd let me cum. but the other part of me was more desperate to continue being bratty.

i threw my head back and held onto her shoulders as tight as i could.

"going to carry on being a brat? suit yourself.." she mumbled with a smirk, before pulling out with no warning.

"no!! no pleaseee. billie, baby, please i'll do anything!! i was going to say it i swear!" i cried out, pulling myself closer to her and hiding my face in her neck.

"nuh-uh. you wanted to be bratty and tease me all night? this is what you get. maybe if you can prove to me that you can be a good girl then i'll let you cum."

her voice was calm. much calmer than mine. i was a whiny mess, trying to convince her to touch me more, to make me cum, but she wasn't having any of it. not until i proved it to her.

"how?! i'll do anything bil!"

"let me fuck you until i finish, yeah? then you can cum. you're gonna take it, and be good for me, okay?"

"yes!! of course! i'll be good for you."

the strap broke through my tight walls once again, the familiar feeling so perfect yet overwhelming at the same time. her thrusts met her previous pace immeiately, making us both feel good. i squeezed my eyes shut tight, letting her basically use me for her own pleasure, and waiting for her to let me finish. the water slightly splashed and made waves around us from our movements.

it felt like ages, but definitely wasn't long before her moans increased in pitch. she sounded so beautiful, it was getting difficult for me to hold onto my orgasm, hearing her whines and feeling her inside me was making the pleasure build up inside me quicker.

as soon as her moans was louder, and more high pitched, i knew she was ready to cum. my own moans mixed with hers, and i let out breathy whines into her ear.

"please, bil. cum for me. i want to cum for you, please. you sound so pretty. so perfect. my beautiful girl." my voice was almost a whisper, but at the same time it sounded so powerful as it echoed through her mind.

that was all it took for billie to cum, the friction of the strap rubbing against her clit helped, but my words threw her over the edge. her voice was so breathy that i almost didn't hear her speak. i was clenching around the strap whilst my nails dug into her shoulder, sure to leave scratches or bruises for her to wake up to in the morning.

"you can cum for me baby! fuck! le- let go for me."

that was the only thing i needed to hear. i'd never came so hard in my life, not bothering to even attempt to keep myself quiet. i didn't care who heard, or who i woke up. we both needed this, and that was all that mattered in our minds in that moment.

as we both slowly came down from our highs, my moans turned into sobs once i started to get overstimulated. she stopped her movements, making sure to hold me closer and pepper my exposed skin in kisses.

i did the same to her, having no intentions of moving away from her yet. but i felt the strap being slowly pulled out of me. her hands ran along my back to soothe me whilst she pulled completely out, somehow managing to take the strap off and throw it on the side of the pool. we stayed where we were, just holding eachother for a while until i was falling asleep, and of course billie noticed when my body slowly grew heavier and slumped against her.

"cmon angel. lets get cleaned up. i've got you." i heard her whisper, before placing a little kiss to my head.

we were soon upstairs in the bathroom, a towel draped over each of our bodies, and while i clung onto her still naked body, she started running a nice warm bath for the both of us. i so badly wanted to help her, and take care of her just like she was doing for me, but i was almost asleep. i was exhausted. still drunk. and fucked out. although billie was also still drunk, and tired, and fucked out, she could handle it better than me. i could barely keep my eyes open.

she added some lavender scented bubble bath, which made my eyes feel even heavier as the smell filled the room. she was still somehow holding me whilst making sure everything was perfect for us. she laid out some clean clothes, fresh towels, and skincare for afterwards.

we finally got in the nice hot bubble bath, our muscles relaxing and tiredness practically taking over us. although i was struggling to keep my eyes open, i insisted that billie laid against me. i wanted her to feel as though i was taking care of her as much as she was taking care of me. so, whilst we were in the bath, i helped her clean her body, wash her hair, and made sure she was relaxed and calm.

she did the same for me, and we spent time letting the water warm us up and pull us further into our sleepiness. we eventually got out, wrapped in the fluffy towels, and fighting to stay awake. we rushed to do skincare, and put our pyjamas on, before we were in bed. sleepy and slurred i love yous, and goodnights, came from us before we were fast asleep.

neither of us woke up once in the night, we were completely worn out, and felt as though all we needed was eachother. it took us a while to actually get out of bed when we woke up, our heads were hurting and the sun seemed way too bright shining through the blinds. when i finally decided to get up, i glanced out of the window after getting dressed. something caught my eye laying on the side of the pool. oh.

#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fic #fanfic #fanfiction #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #wlw #billie eilish smut #wlw smut #wlw post #wlw blog #smut

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sirfrogsworth · 20 days ago

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I had no idea you're a professional photographer! I mostly follow your other blog for Corgis - if you posted your work there and I missed it, I apologize.

Your photography is AMAZING and thank you for sharing tips on light!

Bonus if you have time: when did you develop (haha!) interest for it and what's your favorite thing about this medium? ☆

Thank you. I have been trying to go back to my older work and edit things with my current skills and I have been posting that on occasion.

I also have an Instagram which is sort of like my current portfolio until I have the energy to create a proper website.

It's funny you mention corgis because Otis was the reason I got a proper camera. My followers helped me raise the money to get him and I felt like he belonged to everyone. So I wanted to make sure I took lots of photos of his shenanigans for people to enjoy. If they couldn't have a corgi of their own, I wanted them to live vicariously.

I never do anything halfway. I always go quite overboard. I filled my brain with everything I could possibly learn about photography so I could take the best possible photos of Otis.

In the process of doing that, I realized I loved the art form. So even though Otis isn't around anymore, I owe him for giving me this wonderful creative outlet.

I took a long hiatus from photography when my parents got sick and I had to take care of them. Even though I stopped taking photos, I would watch photography education to help me relax. And it felt a bit like that meme of the dude studying the blade. I was learning some very advanced stuff.

Once my parents both passed I found myself with a giant hole in my life. And photography called me once again. I was a bit rusty operating the camera for a day or two, but because I had continued my learning, it all came back pretty quick. And I realized I was orders of magnitude better at photography, lighting, and post processing than I used to be.

My first photoshoot after 7 years was of my aunt and uncle. I didn't have much in the way of lighting equipment (I sold it to help my family), so I bounced a little flash off one of those science fair trifold thingies.

These shots made me realize I definitely needed photography back in my life. I figured if I could do that with cardboard I found at Walmart, I would have great potential with proper equipment. So I'm in the process of building a new studio and getting some new gear so I can show off what I'm capable of now.

I ran into a little medical hiccup a few months ago which put everything on pause. While I'm recovering I'm not really able to take any photos. So I've decided to try and write some photography education and help others with their photographic journeys as best I can. And I am still continuing to learn and planning what I want to photograph when my health is in better shape.

I really want to do high quality animal portraiture. Not just cats and dogs. I want to find other exotic pets too. And I also want to do an art project where I help people take high quality photos of their parents. One of the things I was most grateful for after my folks died was the photos I took of them.

And also this one I took of my grandmother.

Having a really high quality photo of people you love is so important. And I don't think everyone realizes that. So I'm hoping I can help folks capture these important memories.

Oh, my favorite thing. I almost forgot. I would say it is the problem solving. Every photo is a new puzzle for me. Especially if I am working with artificial lighting and modifiers. I enjoy imagining a photo in my head and then going through the process, solving problems, and realizing what I imagined in real life. It's a great feeling.

This photo of my friend Ryan comes to mind. I just had this vision of someone reading in the middle of a forest. And so we dragged lights to my neighbors yard and I taped a flash inside the lampshade.

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copticcowgirl · 7 days ago

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Fanbinding: BLOODY, SLUTTY, AND PATHETIC

This bind took a hot minute to finish. I made it my goal to complete two copies of BSP during the month of February, for @renegadeguild's 2025 Binderary. One for myself, and one for the author, who gave me permission in late January.

BSP is my first official author copy, gifted to and recently received by WhatMurdah, whom I can't thank enough for both writing this stellar fic and for allowing me to bind them a copy. I read BSP in mid-2024 and have been thinking about it as a bind since.

Lots of firsts with this one. First-ever typeset. Have a long way to go on that front, as it's definitely not my favorite part of binding. I prefer getting into the nitty-gritty of the bind itself instead of staring at a laptop screen for hours and agonizing over fonts and scene break flourishes. I kept it simple and still learned a lot, so that's a win!

I also had the honor of receiving the "Found Typo(s) After Printing" badge.

However, my dedication page to WhatMurdah made the entire typeset worthwhile.

It was also my first time attempting Renaissance chevron endbands (another goal for binderary! aaand there's a reason you don't see them on the bind itself, ha). When those didn't turn out as I'd hoped, it was my first time doing "random chaos" endbands, a la @maleekamolscreates.

Thank you, Maleeka and Marissa, for holding my hands through that one. I like to know what's coming, so letting go of structure to embrace the chaos of go-with-your-gut-feeling-for-your-endband-pattern was...hard.

But gorgeous, no? Can I get a "good girl," Maleeka??

Another first was creating a full-fledged dust jacket that looks like it came from a professional. I owe that to @phoenixortheflame, who sat with me on a Zoom call for 2+ hours and guided me through her artistic process. We worked in tandem in Canva so that I could pepper her with questions like, "You can pull the rulers across the page like that?!" Thank you for showing me how to center align correctly and for gently critiquing my choice of keep-all-fonts-the-same.

The before/after must be shown because honestly, every time I look at it I want to cry happy tears.

And while I know she will say, "But you had the vision, I just gave you some structure!" I'll still heap praise all over her because JUST LOOK AT IT.

Art by the incredible @jjuuppiter, who posted this work well before BSP was published but somehow must have KNOWN it would be written into existence one day. Please go check out their page. I fell in love with their art for "The Politician's Wife" first, and eventually found "Bloody Witch and Her Worshipper."

And finally, details of the bind itself below and behind-the-scenes photos (my favorite to look back on!) below that.

Bind details:

bind style: full cloth bind, rounded and backed, sewn endpapers, ramie bands

endpapers: "french marble strawberry" from Hollanders, chosen in mid-2024 after reading BSP for the first time

cover material: "love dove" fabric, designed by Kathy Doughty. chosen solely for its bold colors.

book edge decoration: head & tail edges hand sanded to 1,000 grit, DIY'd maroon acrylic ink to match fabric, applied in layers, then burnished with Renaissance wax & agate stone. maroon acrylic ink applied directly to deckled fore-edge for author copy. we don't talk about the fore-edge for my own copy.

endbands: double faux core, 4mm leather core, Japanese silk thread

typeset: this was my first-ever typeset, which meant I spent hours meticulously ensuring I didn't mess anything up (full disclosure: I did, but those mistakes are all my own)

dust jacket: designed in Canva; title font, Villanelle; author font, ITC Blaze; body & flap fonts, IBM Plex Serif; art by jjuuppiter

Did you know? To make a deep maroon color, take 1 drop blue, 11 drops red, and 2 drops yellow. Voila! Deep maroon.

Now you know.

These copies were made for personal use only; no profit was made and all associated costs came from my own pocket. Please abide by the code of binding fanfiction, which amounts to: if you want it on your shelf, bind it yourself.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #fanfiction #dramione #BSP #bloody slutty and pathetic #whatmurdah #renegade bindery #endbands #binding fanfiction #keep fanfiction free

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meanbossart · 3 months ago

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Ask Compilation: Blondes, feet, bowl-cut guardian lady.

He did not, they never had sex. But he was in love with her.

For sure. I think she struck him more like a teenager with the black hair and bangs, after the change (both visual and in attitude) she became a far more mature AND attractive person in his eyes.

PFFT, well, if you're saying they meet ALL of the criteria, I assume you mean both in looks and personality and hence be damn near his soulmate. DU drow could overlook weird feet (and a lot of other things, actually) if he were in love with the person in question. He would probably gently request they take better care of them, though.

Nothing special there, I'm afraid! He just has human-like skin - perhaps a little on the oily side but completely within the bounds of normality.

He runs a little hot, if that's anything. Oh! His hair is shockingly soft.

Correct! DU drow only (arguably) looks like a drow. He doesn't have their usual bone structure, height, or associated magical proclivities. He has some dark vision but its nowhere near as good as a drow's either.

I don't necessarily think all Bhaalspawn are the same way, but the Dark Urge IS quite different from the previous game's iterations. DU isn't simply Bhaal's child conceived with a partner, he's a piece of the god that supposedly slobbed off and grew legs and a face, pretty much. So yes, I do think that the Dark Urge at least is it's own unique thing.

The reason why he looks like a drow, is because he was placed in the Underdark upon creation. The metaphor I always use here is that if you place something infantile in a biome that is alien to it, it may try to adapt to it's environment to survive as it develops, to different degrees of success. This is why DU drow looks the way he does.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

You're welcome!

I've received a few snippets here that you can find through the #gift art tag! There is also the fic I'm in the process of writing called A Novel Experience on AO3.

It was just something I was compelled to do when I first drew him! The facial scars felt like they should lead into something else so I just made up a pattern on the spot, minus a tiny tweak here or there, it has stuck basically unchanged. All and any lore relating to the scars came later.

I get a lot of sweet messages but "thanks for your man's penis size" has to be one of my favorites. Thank you!

HELLO!

Thank you so much for the kind message! And that sounds like a fun dream, I love that your Tav got jealous of the attention ASTARION was receiving instead of mad that he had to share in the first place LOL

DU drow is desperately monogamous. He doesn't care what other people do with their lives but he's very much a "one and done" kind of person.

He would be willingly to participate in a threeway/have group sex with a partner, assuming the rules and regulations of said encounter were laid out clearly before or at least mutually understood between them. He would never want to see these people again after the fact though.

She does not, naturally I had no idea that this character was going to turn into anything when i made him, so I just... Made a lady. And since she was supposed to be a "guardian" I gave her a Joan of Arc type of look.

I've occasionally thought about changing this, but... Y'know, sometimes you don't need lore to be that in-depth, LOL.

The emperor gave everyone else a nondescript hottie he assumed they would trust, DU drow just got the same treatment. She's not even DU drow's type but definitely someone he would be compelled to take seriously yet not feel threatened by - so ultimately, her design does make sense.

---

That's all I have the energy for tonight folks, as always thank you for the many encouraging and sweet messages you send me, I'm sorry I can't reply to all of them! 😭

Have yourselves a great week!

#ask #ask compilation

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crownedinmarigolds · 19 days ago

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CrownedinMarigolds Commission information as of February 2025!

Hello all! Sorry for the long post - but my commissions are re-opened until I feel like I have enough! Thank you to everyone who is interested!! The "rules" for my commissions are below the break, as I know this post is long enough already!

I am using KO-FI's commission tab to keep track of how many slots I have for each type, as well as occasionally introduce a different style or so if I feel like it/come up with one. This is to make things easier for me in regards to tracking, and to make things more visible to you all so you know how busy or available I may be!

My quick sketch commissions are always open on my KO-FI! Please note that aside from light tweaks, I will not overhaul draw the quick sketches or the group quick sketches.

Prices may slightly vary depending on specific details, but that is something we can discuss in private. The prices shown are pretty solidly what I will charge!

PLEASE NOTE: I will not start work until payment is made.

The prices above include the character + a simple background color/texture chosen by me unless otherwise requested by you. The group portraits will require a bit more in-depth discussion - such as if you don't want them just standing together and want them to be doing something as a group. That may change the price slightly depending on what they're up to. If you'd like to add a specific background, we can talk about that as well! I keep you very up to date through most of the process, and I have a few extra rounds of concept sketches prepared if needed for larger portraits. I will happily provide my Discord in private if we need to really talk things out, it's definitely easier that way!

Disclaimers: I have a very sketchy and not 100% clean art style, so please expect that in the finished product! I am absolutely happy to draw not safe for work scenes or subjects like sex, violence, blood, etc - but obviously the more gross end of the spectrum I won't touch. That can be discussed in private! I am not very good at drawing mechs, cars, or animals, so while you can ask me to, I may deny it just to ensure you don't get a subpar final drawing.

Also, I work full time and am a wife and mother! I like to think I'm fast and incredibly attentive but just please be respectful that I may have to step away to take care of my family. I have to save drawing for after I am off work and when my child is asleep.

If you'd like to commission me, go ahead and grab your slot through my KO-FI. Feel free to also send me a direct message through Tumblr or email me at [email protected]! Just noting again, I am using KO-FI to keep track of the slots taken and to keep all my record-keeping in one place. If you miss the window for a slot, I can of course write your idea and information down and inform you when I'm about to open slots again. You will be getting concept sketches, updates as I go, and of course the high res copy of your image at the very end. I would ask that you speak with me before using my work for public use or on paid programming. Otherwise, these images are yours and you feel free to use them as you please!

I am on KO-FI, and here is my Art Tumblr Tag for more examples of my work!

Thank you all so much!!

#crownedinmarigolds #commission information #art commissions #commissions open #art #vampire the masquerade #dungeons and dragons #world of darkness #my art #art commission information #commission information as of February 2025

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canmom · 2 months ago

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one of the people i most looked up to when i was first transing has, many years later, pretty hard disidentified with words like 'trans woman', 'transfem' and so on. they still write to an audience of mostly dolls, but they're doing some other gender thing now, and tend not to like being put in the trans woman/transfem box.

chewing on this and other things. fundamentally I don't think gender is real. I have called it an egregore, and that still seems apt. and yet, words like 'trans', 'autistic' and so on are a pretty powerful correlate with the sort of person I tend to vibe with.

transing isn't revealing some inner girl essence. the forces that produce a trans woman when enacted on the eager-to-reshape-itself human brain don't necessarily only produce trannies: it is one of a number of moves available to you.

it is, however, a really big play in the game. given how ludicrously much gender infects every social interaction, going off-script in a big way is going to affect your psychology hugely. doing that activates the feedback loops, the self-exciting instability, a set of rituals let you become something more 'real', or perhaps more precisely, something you have actively defined. the unpredictable outcome of that process is both the entire point and not the point at all.

rachel pollack spoke of transing in terms of religious ecstasy. "I would argue that transsexuality arises from a passion so powerful that it transcends issues of happiness. The word passion originally meant suffering, not pleasure."

so having made a declaration like, i am this sort of creature, you break everything down and start to rebuild. you go on to take actions to affirm it, or even simply build an inner, secret core, and doing this - physically, socially - transforms the resonances of your thinking.

we have constructed many rituals to make the declaration of transness more definite. a lot of them will affect your sensory experience: the immediate effect of hrt on how your skin responds to touch is surely one of the great virtues. take surgery, for example - do you need to get your penis turned inside out? well: the drama of making a drastic alteration to your body, and the sheer difficulty of getting it, makes it an especially powerful ritual. but it's not the only way to go. indeed, most girls I know haven't done it (whether or not they want to), and instead, the symbol of woman-with-penis has become one of our core subculture-images. in the last few years, the word faggot has come back in a big way, with a real gendered connotation now, sorta like what the girls on here were trying to get at with baeddel before all the shit happened. that's also a move.

so this phenomenon, this new game we're building together, includes surgeries as a move. but it also includes a lot of the subculture-building classics: weird fashions, radical politics, drugs, kinky sex, making noises on the computer, and so on.

and since the whole point of this thing is a process of defining yourself into existence, as soon as something starts to become a cliché, an orthodoxy, a mandated practice, it starts to break down. everything is stupid fucking contextual. if everyone around you is desperately pursuing genital surgery, saying 'I like my dick and want to keep it' becomes a potent move. but if the pendulum swings the other way, once everyone is saying 'do you really need surgery, you know you don't need it to Be Trans, please stay as you are since it's easier for us that way', maybe that ritual regains some of its power. it's perverse. perversity is kind of necessary to it.

so the meta evolves.

i am speaking about transness here, but i think similar forces are at work with other self-id games, autism and so on. there is like, actual biological variation, but far more important is the ideas we're playing with on top of that. what concepts are activated when I think 'autism', now largely positive associations: sensory this, obsession that; not the same as twenty years ago. thankfully my fellow autists made an interesting game to make of it: a space to express something.

#introspective nightposting

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didyougaming · 7 months ago

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Hi, gamers. I know the results of the Sandwich Poll have been gnawing at you. So many people wondering whether they answered correctly, which as a reminder is a very important factor in determining which afterlife you end up in when you die. Please understand that I needed a lot of time to internally process these poll results and also that I've been kinda busy/tired. But the people need to know, so here we go.

In total, we received 372 responses. I also spent a lot of my weekend annoying anyone who would listen to me in person about these questions, but I didn't write those answers down.

Question 1 was fairly non-controversial, as it should be. It is worth noting that 3.2% of respondents chose to write-in an answer, and most of these write-in answers were what scientists would call "bad" and "not really useful." So you can assume a 3.2% margin of error on everything in this survey. That's how statistics works.

Question 2 is where we see a real divide. Most respondents consider a sandwich cut into two separate but equal pieces to be one sandwich. This is a real shame, because it's the wrong answer. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Question 3 considers whether one piece of bread cut in half and used for sandwich-making results in a sandwich, and surprisingly the majority of respondents do consider this to be one sandwich. This is really interesting, because despite ending up with functionally and aesthetically the same result as one of the pieces of the sandwich from question 2, a significant number of respondents believe the results to be inherently different. I wish there was a way to better track how much overlap there was for those two seemingly contradictory answers, but the big Sheets page Google Docs is daunting and I don't feel like figuring out how to parse that data, so we just need to accept that we'll never have that exact number. That's how statistics works.

Question 4 mostly just cements the findings of the previous two questions. I do want to point out the one person who answered "who the fuck does this". Sandwich shops do this. Go to a sandwich shop for once in your life and really watch them do their work. Open your eyes.

Question 5 did not get me a lot of useful data, as it turns out having a question that only allowed for write-in answers was a bad idea. However, there are more or less two camps for people who really took these questions seriously and gave it their all. The first school of thought suggests that intent is the most important factor, and if you deem what you've made to be a sandwich, it's a sandwich. While I appreciate the critical thinking on display here, I believe in the other school of thought, which is that when you put ingredients between two breads that's a sandwich, baby. There is a sub-school of thought here that requires those two pieces to be whole pieces, but that's wrong.

One question that I should have included in the survey I think proves my point. If you order a sandwich platter from a deli and they use a single really long piece of bread (think like a several foot long hero) into multiple sections, you would say that you have sandwiches, plural. If you wanted to grab one, you wouldn't say "I'm going to grab a 64th of a sandwich" because you would sound deranged. Despite being parts of a larger whole, they are still ingredients between pieces of bread, and thus fit the definition of "sandwich."

Anyway, thank you for coming on this non-gaming detour with me. It was extremely important that I prove a friend wrong on this topic, and even though I don't think I did that and I think he's choosing to double down on his incorrect opinions, I'm still choosing to spin this as a personal and moral victory. New actual DidYouGamings will come out as soon as I discover any new facts about video games (right now there's only a couple hundred facts about video games at all and I've basically covered all of them.)

#sandwich #the afterlife #results #video games #if you got any of the questions wrong just think really hard until you believe in the correct thing instead!

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cheapshrimpysheep · 9 months ago

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Romantic Experiment

SUMMARY: They want you to assist them with a simple experiment. They'll show you how it's done, maybe try to convince you to join the science club and definitely flirt along the way.

CHARACTERS: Science Club (Trey Clover / Rook Hunt)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Dating; Romantic Relationship; Flirting

WARNING: Do Not try Rook's experiment at home! Mercury is very Toxic! Trey's experiment is safe, tho.

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.330 words per character.

COMMENTS: If you follow me, you know that if I write more than 1k it's because I got excited and had more ideas than I expected. I relied on this page to learn about and describe the experiments. If I made a mistake somewhere, I studied arts, not science, ok? I’m sorry. 😅

I hope you enjoy 🧪

CONTEXT: Either you two are dating or already at the beginning of your relationship, so you're still in that flirting phase.

Trey and you were talking about the school clubs because you were wondering if you should join one. So, Trey suggests that you go with him to the science club one day to see if you like it and are interested in joining. But thinking about how demanding Professor Crewel can be, you comment that perhaps it is too difficult for you.

“Too difficult?” He smiled, that smile the other Heartslabyul students usually described as a protective older brother smile. “Don't worry, it's just a visit. And even if you want to join the club, no one will force you to do anything you can't do. We are free to do the experiences that interest us most. And of course, if you need help I will always be there for you.”

You met Trey at the classroom door just before the science club meeting started. Like you, he was already wearing his lab coat too.

“We're not going in yet.” He tells you. “I had an idea for a simple experiment that you might like. And I wanted you to participate in all the steps, or as many as possible, so I need you to come with me to get the components. Shall we?”

First you two go to Sam's Mystery Shop to buy yellow, cyan and magenta professional floral dyes and tonic water. You ask if the experiment is to make colorful flowers.

“I can't make that part a surprise, can I?” He says with a smile and his eyebrows arched in pity. “Let's say we're going to paint the roses but not just red. And speaking of which, they are the ones we are going to get now before going back to the classroom.”

Then he takes you to the botanical garden and leads you to a corner where white rose buds are growing.

“I took the liberty of planting them beforehand so we could start the experiment straight away.” He explains. “What you see are three different rose cultivars. Vendela, La Belle and Avalanche.” He indicates each one while saying the name. “They are said to be the best for absorbing dye. The dyeing process can take a few days, so an open bloom won’t last long enough. That's why we're going to use buds that have not fully opened. Could you help me pick them?” he asks rhetorically, just being the well-mannered man that he is.

If you take a moment to look at him concentrating on cutting the stems of the roses, he will smile at you, without taking his eyes off the flowers, and say: “As flattered as I am with you admiring me, I would really prefer it if you were more worried about not cutting yourself.” You were wearing gloves, so the rose thorns weren't as much of a concern as the scissors you were using to cut them.

He will finish picking his share of the roses faster than you pick yours, and he will stop to look at you. If you notice and look at him, he will say with a smirk: “I've already finished my part. Now it's my turn to admire you at work. You really are more attractive when you're focused.” and he will laugh at your reaction to that sudden comment. “Fine, I'll help you.” He says with his calm smile “Like I said, I don't want you to cut yourself.”

You only took the rose buds, but some of the other roses were already open. He picks one, hands it to you and in front of your eyes "Doodle Suit" the rose petals turn into your favorite color(s) with a soft whisper. You take the flower with a smile and he kisses your cheek.

He gets up, picks up the shopping bag with one hand and the dozen roses that you two picked with the other. “We can go back now. Everything else we need is already in the classroom.”

You were in the classroom with other science club members, but there was room for everyone. Trey was right, it was a simple and kind of relaxing experiment. You used a sharp blade to cut the stem of the roses into 3 sections. If you didn't feel confident using it, Trey would have no problem cutting the stems for you. You added dye and tonic water to three plastic bags. If you ask if you couldn't use regular water, he’ll say:

“Yes, regular water is commonly used, but tonic water creates a special effect that I want to be a surprise when I show it to you. So be patient okay?” he winks.

You carefully separated each section of stem and place it in its own bag of dyed water, used a rubber band to secure the bags to the roses and placed the flowers in a bud vase to keep them upright. You needed to place the flowers in a cool place, away from direct sunlight, so Trey suggested placing them under the table and making a sign warning other students to be careful.

“The petals will begin to change color within a couple of hours, but it may take a few days to achieve the best color.” He explains. “During this time, we need to make certain the roses don’t run out of liquid. Therefore, we may need to add more dyed water from time to time.”

For a couple of days you and Trey texted each other to arrange shifts to check the flowers and add more dye water. You saw the roses opening slowly and the the white petals turning into increasingly more vivid colors. The mixture of yellow, cyan and magenta made them a perfect rainbow color. You would often also find a small note written by Trey, usually inviting you to have tea and try some sweet treat that he made or was going to make for you.

And then one night, the two of you agreed to meet in the classroom because Trey thought the roses were ready. It was just the two of you. He turned on the lights and went to get the bouquet of rainbow roses. They were absolutely beautiful! He took out a flashlight and handed it to you.

“Do you want to find out what tonic water does?” He asked you with a quite excited smile. He takes his magic pen, points it at the lights in the room and turns them off. “Turn on the flashlight and point it at the roses.”

You do it. It was a black light that when pointed at the roses made them glow. The more amazed you are, the happier he will be. He hands you the bouquet and holds the lantern himself.

“I know this is going to sound a lot like Cater, but can I take a photo of you holding the roses? After all this was an experiment and I need to record the experiments I do.” You agree and he takes a photo with his cell phone while pointing the black light at the flowers. He looks at the photo with a smug smile.

“I can't wait to see Rook's face when he sees this photo.” You ask why. After all, this was a simple experiment. “It's not because of the experiment, it's because of the photo itself. It's a beautiful photo and he won't be able to deny it. And I'm not just talking about the roses.” He smirks.

You ask if it wouldn't be a good idea to take a photo with him too, after all he was the main scientist. He laughs, and agrees, and the two of you take a selfie with the flowers, the black light on the table and pointed at the two of you. He looked even more attractive with the rainbow glow of the roses pointing at him. And in the middle of the night. He looked at you with the same thought.

“So what you say? You'll join me at the science club. There are more exciting experiments we can do together.” He smirks, takes the bouquet and places it carefully on the table without taking his eyes off you, and breaking the distance that the roses were causing between the two of you. “What do you think about being my assistant? Tempting? Or is that just my lips?” You were indied looking at them, the same way he was looking at yours.

“My Dear Trickster!” Rook appeared out of nowhere, as he does so often, and with his lab coat on. He held your hand with one of his, your waist with the other and lovingly pulled you closer to him. “Fate is so generous in making me meet you at this moment!” He kisses your cheek.

“I was just now heading to the classroom where the science club meets and thinking about all the possibilities of new experiments I could do when I saw one on my list that would be merveilleuse to do with you of all people! S'il te plaît, come with me mon amour. I'll show you how much my heart beats for you!”

Instead of taking you to the classroom, he first took you to Mr. S's Mystery Shop, as you needed to buy the main component for that experiment.

“Welcome, little imps! Looking for a last-minute forgotten item perhaps?” Sam assumed from Rook's lab coat. And maybe he also knew about the science club meeting.

“A specific ingredient for a last-minute decided to be done experiment, would be more accurate.” Rook smiled. “As far as I know, such things are not an enemy to your stock, correct?”

“On the contrary! Name it and I'll tell you where and how much it is.” Sam winked.

“Liquid Mercury.” Rook responds naturally.

“Mercury?!” Sam was surprised but not shocked. “You know it's toxic right? And relatively expensive.”

“I am very aware of that, oui.” He was still smiling, but with that sly half-closed look of his. “It's for the science club. I had already informed Professor Crewel and he authorized me to purchase it.”

“He did... without a paper...” Sam whispered to himself, before talking to Rook again. “You are of age then?”

“Oui je suis.” He handed Sam his ID. “You would have enough for a simple experiment, non?”

“How many grams do you need?” Sam asked, handing back the ID and smiling like the helpful salesman he is.

On the way back to the classroom, you expressed your concerns and apprehension regarding Rook's experiment. You weren't a member of the science club, how could you help? And about the toxic mercury?

“Worry not, Trickster.” He smiled confidently. “The amount of mercury we will be using is safe, especially while wearing coats, gloves and glasses. The only ingredient I will ever intoxicate you with is love, mon cher.” He puts his hand on your waist and gently pulls you to kiss your cheek. “And as for why I want you to be with me when I do the experiment... he he... you'll find out when you see it.”

“Bon après-midi!” He greets, as soon as he enter the classroom. He didn't explain why you were with him, but no one asked either. The other club members asked each other, but it seemed like no one had much courage to ask Rook directly. Except one person.

“Hi Rook, (Y/N).” Trey greeted you. “You had never come to a club meeting before. Are you thinking about joining or did you just come to assist Rook?”

You say you came because Rook asked you, but now that he was talking about it, you could also see what the club was like and think about whether you would like to join.

“You will always be welcome!” Rook says. “Oh, but Chevalier des Roses you are very cruel to me.”

“Why? What did I say?”

“Now you've put the merveilleuse image of (Y/N) and I here, doing experiments together. How heartbreaking it will be now to have that fantasy destroyed. You truly underestimate the thorns in your words.”

Trey smiled like he was thinking that Rook was just being dramatic again. “Well, I apologize, but aren't you putting (Y/N) in a position where it will now be difficult to refuse the invitation?”

“Non. There is nothing more charming than the free will of one's heart. I will be happy with whatever my dear Trickster decides.” his usual smile became sly. “Are you perhaps trying to pass the blame for your words onto someone else?”

“Of course not. Don't distort my intentions.” Trey adjusts his glasses, still smiling politely. “I'll leave you to your experiment. I also have something I want to test.” He walked away.

He puts what you bought on a table and goes to get the rest of the materials that were already in the room. A petri dish, pipettes, a new nail and a small bottle with a transparent liquid.

When he went to get the second bottle, the glass was dark, so he had to read the label. He picked up one that made several heads turn and a collective sigh of concern was heard. “Potassium chlorate...” He read to himself, but with the silence in the classroom, the others could also hear him. “Ups... not chlorate, dichromate.” He put the bottle back in the cabinet and took out another like it with the label: Potassium dichromate. A sigh of relief was heard in the room and the students returned to focusing on their projects.

Rook returned to the table laughing. You ask him why the other members reacted that way to the first bottle.

“Potassium Chlorate.” he explains. “Is a strong oxidizing agent that has a wide variety of uses. It is or has been a component of explosives, fireworks, safety matches, and disinfectants. I think they were afraid I was going to make explosives.” he leans in and whispers in your ear. “Don't tell them that it is a possibility for another day.”

You begin the experiment. He place a drop of mercury in the petri dish. Then he pour transparent liquid over the drop to cover it. He explains to you that it is sulfuric acid. He then add a small amount of what is on the second bottle. They look like little red crystals, almost as small as dust. That was potassium dichromate. He waits some time before giving you the new nail.

He stands behind you and holds your hand that is holding the nail with his. “Now let's see if it works. Shall we?” He practically whispered that in your ear. He makes you slowly bring the tip of the nail closer to the drop of mercury. And before you touch it, the drop starts to move and... beat like a heart. The mercury drop will beat for about 20 seconds before stopping.

“Mercury Beating Heart.” He explains sweetly. “Is a popular chemistry demonstration based on an an electrochemical redox reaction that causes a blob of mercury to oscillate, resembling a beating heart. Simple, dangerous, and beautiful.”

He frees your hand and lets you continue the experiment on your own if you want. The tip of the nail never touches the mercury and the heart will always beat for a few seconds before you try again.

“The club wants to hold a small fair to demonstrate some experiments. I thought this would be a simple but interesting demo to show potential new members. So, you tell me, what do you think?”

You can tell him it's an excellent idea, but if you're concentrating on the mercury heart, making it beat gently, he won't need any verbal response.

He laughs. “Beauté! I could watch your fascinated look all day. However...” He brings his face closer to yours. You move the nail away from the mercury, and he places a finger under your chin, moving your head slightly. Your lips very close. “I would hunt to have that look on me instead.”

If you want to know more, here are the links to the experiments:

Trey -> Rainbow Roses

Rook -> Mercury Beating Heart

And if you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Trey Clover #Trey Clover x Reader #Trey x Reader #Rook Hunt #Rook Hunt x Reader #Rook x Reader

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heathsuii · 5 months ago

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Senior Year

「 Suna Rintaro x Reader 」

₊˚ෆ synopsis. you reflect on how quickly autumn had arrived, mirroring the swift changes in your own life as you enter senior year of high school.

cw. fem reader, fluff, slight angst, highschool!au, seatmate!suna, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is emotional, not proofread !

words. 975

a/n. happy belated four years to this blog! the urge to write caught up to me. i'm thinking of actually making a masterlist for this. let me know your thoughts and i hope y'all have a great day <333

autumn air and hues of orange leaves work alongside to guide the new season. fall had snuck in like a shadow at sundown, and while you hadn't noticed it until now, everything seemed to have change over night.

yesterday, the trees were still holding on to their green, hesitant to let go. today, there were amber streaks, and the wind carried a definite feel that you hadn't felt in months. it seemed to be moving too quickly.

it felt like it was just yesterday when he made the decision to sit next to you. becoming one of many interactions you'll share. you let out a quiet sigh, thinking back to those days that felt like they would last forever. alas, life never seemed to work that way. now, here you are—senior year. the last one. the year you had been waiting for, yet now that it was here, you weren't sure where the time had gone.

you're sitting on a bench outside the inarizaki school gymnasium. waiting for a certain someone to finish volleyball practice. this was your routine for who knows how long almost three years.

what started out as a punishment for losing to a game of rock, paper, scissors gradually turned into a habit of waiting just to walk home together. life was silly that way.

"our streak is not streaking anymore."

a familiar voice entered your mind. you then remembered hearing his voice for the first time, back in freshman year, where everything felt new and exciting, with years ahead of you. presently, there was a bittersweet edge to it. each golden leaf that fell to the ground seemed to whisper that things were changing, and not just the seasons. college applications, farewells, the uncertainty of what would come next. it all hung in the cool autumn air.

"is this subtle foreshadowing? don't tell me.. you streak with someone else..."

your heart ached. not from what he said, but because this would be the last year you'd spend together like this, walking the same halls, sharing late-night study sessions, the same jokes. after graduation, your paths would diverge. it's inevitable, really.

suna brushed away a strand of hair stuck on your forehead. successfully snapping you out of your thoughts. successfully making the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

he took out a 500 yen coin from his pocket, and held it infront of you. "a penny for your thoughts?"

wanting to rid of the worry, you sighed. "it's nothing, i just started dwelling over the fact that we'll be graduating."

"if you're scared of graduating you could be a repeater." suna answers, trying to lighten the mood.

you gently hit his arm before proceeding to knock on the wooden bench. "that is so not a funny thing to say, rin!"

"alright, alright. jokes aside, there's nothing for you to be afraid of. you don't have to be alone, you know? i'm here for you." he proclaims while simultaneously soothing your back in a circular motion.

"how can you be so sure?" you mumbled, your forehead crinkling in the process.

"i know so," suna replies. giving you an assuring smile, pressing his thumb on your forehead. "trust me."

a smile spread across his face, and for a moment, everything else faded away. feeling a warmth spread through you, like the sun breaking through the clouds. you felt the warmth on your face.

it was in those smiles you saw the promise of what could be, the warmth of a friendship that felt so much deeper than just friendship.

"you're my best friend, what choice do i have?" you winced internally at your choice of words.

"what if i want more than that?"

your breathe hitched. words seemed to be stuck inside your throat. were you hearing him correctly? was this another faux flirtation? maybe this was your mind playing yet again its awful tricks on you—

"i really really like you. i like you a lot... for the longest time." suna adds, cradling your face ever so gently.

or maybe not. maybe it was never casual. maybe he does likes you.

"i like you too." you exclaim, your mouth had a mind of its own. then again, you were never one to hesitate when you're with him.

suna rintaro gave you a boyish grin. a grin that spread across his face like a ray of sunshine piercing through the gray clouds of your thoughts.

in that moment, it felt as if the world had stopped; everything faded into the background, and it was just him, glowing with pride and happiness. it was infectious, drawing you in, and you found yourself unable to resist smiling back.

he always had that effect on you, even on days when you felt heavy with unspoken fears. that grin had the power to chase away the clouds that hovered over you, if only for a moment.

each time he smiled or grinned at you, it was as if he were speaking a language only you could understand. a soft whisper of reassurance that told you everything would be okay, even when you felt like your world was crumbling.

in those fleeting moments, the weight of everything—college applications, impending goodbyes, and the uncertainty of your futures—seemed to lift. it was as if his smile casted a spell that made everything else go away.

a soft breeze rustled the leaves above you both, showering you with a sprinkle of gold.

the future is uncertain. yet, you chose to brace the unknown.

you laughed, caught off guard by the sudden flurry. “it’s like nature agrees!” you exclaimed, your heart dancing in tune with the fluttering leaves.

you made the decision to stop thinking of the uncertainties ahead. it comes soon enough.

“nature definitely approves of us,” suna said with a lovesick grin, shifting closer to you. your hands intertwined, fingers lacing perfectly together.

#divider by cafekitsune #divider by anitalenia #suna x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu

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local-lamppost · 4 months ago

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Act 3 Thoughts

Watched Wicked, came home, waited 20 minutes, binged Act 3. I do not recommend this lifestyle. Anyway...

I was so satisfied with where we ended up, but I would have also appreciated about 20 minutes to an hour more. It felt like some beats were skipped over, they wanted to get to specific endings and didn't have the time to wrap them up as neatly as I would've liked.

Maddie is a good example. She's a plant for Ambessa, okay but when and why did she become one? She couldn't have been one before Cait being named commander and when we next see her she's pushing for Cait to take power back from Ambessa. Did Ambessa just message her right after Cait and Vi started working together again as like a "the woman you love's actual love is back in the picture, you can either wallow or get revenge with me", but also made a smarmy remark about Cait 'at least being warm' or something. We didn't need to absolve Cait or villainize Maddie for their 'relationship' because they didn't even have a relationship-just a coping mechanism for Cait, similar to Vi's drinking. At best it was all unnecessary and at worst a waste of time.

Away from that, I want to focus on some good.

I am officially a JayVik shipper now. Them disappearing into a void together, encircled with each other, after Viktor spend however long within timelines/multiverses in hopes of finding a Jayce able to bring him back to his humanity? Come on, they needed to kiss. Especially after Jayce and Mel's low key break up. Honestly we were denied the three of them working together, because they would have been unstoppable.

Speaking of Mel, I love her. I love her design, her powers, her matricide, her taking command of Ambessa's armies, etc. I wish we could have seen more of her adapting to her new powers, finding peace with what she now is. There could have been a cool interaction with Viktor over how Arcane power has changed them both for better and worse.

I don't think Mel's story is done. With other characters, I can see them coming in for future story arcs as like, cameos or background details, but if the next LoL story is in Noxus I fully expect Mel to be a major player again.

Back to Jayce. I like Jayce, that could be my Arcane hot take, and I definitely want to write something more in depth on him. On all the characters really. For now, I'll just say that his determination to destroy everything he has built, because the only creation worth saving is his relationship with Viktor is just... glorious.

Viktor was amazing. I love Viktor in the lore, and they took his traits from the lore and amped them up to eleven. His body being destroyed and rebuilt, the process of which has chipped away his humanity and mutilated his dreams. He lives up to his own quote: "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right."

Ekko is a character I never realize I miss. That sounds mean, it probably is, but I am never the less so happy to see him every time. It's like finding the missing piece you didn't even know was lost: that is Ekko to me. His mini adventure in the parallel universe was adorable. Us getting to see what could've been alongside learning what matters most to Ekko, him getting a taste of a near perfect life and still choosing to return to his own time. That's why Ekko is the true hero of this story.

In terms of Jinx, I'll just say I'm not a hundred percent sure she's dead. The airship leaving at the end followed by her scribbled sign off, plus not getting a dead body shot. It was definitely left open ended. Her looking to do something good, to not mess up, alongside her fear of not wanting to try again because she is just tired of failure, of being a Jinx, was too real in many ways. I will go in depth on her at a later date.

Caitlyn's arc is going to be argued about, no question. It needed more time (see the start of this long post) to make her point of her anger burning away, of it not being sustainable, hit harder. I would have made her realize what her anger was doing to Vi, have Jinx point out that they really are acting the same in their treatment of Vi, and use the whole Ambessa was literally stoking the fires of her hatred to help fit what time they had left. Honestly just have Cait learn Ambessa was the one behind the memorial attack, that would be a much better way to explain her anger diminishing enough to look beyond her own hurt to realize and take account of her mistakes.

Vi, as usual, needed more screen time. Not necessarily because her story would've been helped by it like in act two, but just because I wanted her to have more time to enjoy her life. I went into act three with the sole hope that Vi would have a nice day, only for her to loose everything again. The only people she has left are Cait and Ekko, and god help anyone who tries something against those too now. Her ending being the chance to finally rest, to lean on someone else, was beautiful. She is my favorite character and please let her have only good things in the future, she was traumatized in almost every scene this season please-

Nobody tell Vi that in a universe where she died young everyone else ended up living. It would destroy her.

Vi and Cait relationship was great. I wouldn't say it was rushed in act three, because it felt like it was where it should be for a final batch of episodes, if that makes sense. It felt like the set up was Cait being genuinely remorseful and Vi just wanting someone in her life who wanted her in return. It helps that they have great chemistry and that when given the chance they fit so neatly together. I think Jinx encouraging Vi to be with Cait is what sold it to me. Jinx realizing how much Vi has given/sacrificed and giving her blessing for her sister to be happy with someone she disapproves of; not to mention Cait pulling the guards from their posts to give Vi the chance to actually meet Jinx in order to have that conversation. All in all, it comes down to Vi's "I don't care" because that's really all there is too it for them. Vi is done being miserable and Cait makes her happy, vice versa. Cait is someone Vi can rely on, Vi is someone Cait can find strength in.

Spitfire round:

Sevika being made a councilor

Every single one of Mel, Cait, and Jayce's designs were 10/10s

Vi not being given an actual uniform, just armor and the gloves

Jinx cutting her hair further to match Vi

Ekko getting his crystal sword/bats

Heimerdinger dying after living a life where he could make his city something to be proud of

I was fully expecting Vander and Silco to kiss in that one shot

Everything with Benzo

Loris' name being said

Vi humming the song and the song being their mother's lullaby

Viktor being held within the Herald

Sky leaving so Viktor was free to bring Jayce to his space mind palace

Caitlyn's rifle never surviving

Fishman McBlue being the only one of Cait's soldiers to stick to his guns and stay loyal

Sevika and Shoola side eyeing each other

Vander and little Vi and Powder with the bunny

The bunny being a passenger on Jinx's balloon

Singed's messed up family getting a happy ending

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skzhua · 2 years ago

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Episode ten. (finale)

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female Reader

genre: Fluff, angst, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 3k

warnings: Swearing, suggestive (like, a lot...), reader and Min Ho are clingy as hell.

summary: Transferring to KISS was the last thing you had asked for and, yet, a certain tall boy made it seem both worse and better than you expected.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

a/n: A short cute ending... I miss writing this series already. Thank you for the love for this one <3

You smiled at him and let him hold you. "I am okay, just a bit shaken up from it all."

He sighed in relief. "You do know I went to her first because I was scared she'd worsen the situation, right?"

You were about to respond but seeing Dae coming at light's speed right at Min Ho, you backed away in fear. Kitty was running after him, just as overwhelmed as you were. Your breathing quickened once Dae grabbed him by the collar before slamming him against the wall. He was smaller, but definitely strong enough to be able to hurt Min Ho.

"You call yourself my friend?" Dae said, anger taking over him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't pretend you don't know!" he yelled, shaking Min Ho's body.

"What are you doing?" Min Ho said, acting unfazed by what was happening. "Let go."

His grip finally loosened as Kitty arrived. Min Ho quickly joined your side again, putting his frame in front of you in a protective way.

"Dae, stop it, it's not Min Ho." she begged him. "This has nothing to do with him."

He observed you and your boyfriend, his eyes blinking a few times as he tried to process his own actions. "I'm sorry. I thought you and Kitty-"

"And I think," Min Ho shouted, cutting his sentence off. "you two should have remained pen pals. I think we all think so, too. Including her."

He took your hand and rushed you out of the room. You sent a sad look to your two other friends before you walked out the door. Min Ho didn't say a word until you got to the dorm. You both changed clothes and sat in the kitchen in silence. As he prepared a night tea for you as he'd usually do, you couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. This was definitely not how you thought the end of the semester would look like.

"Min, can we-"

"Talk?" he said in a hard voice. "Haven't we done enough talking today?"

You huffed. "I was about to ask if we could just relax. You're tense."

He put the mugs down in front of you as a sarcastic chuckle left his mouth. "My apologies after feeling like shit when my best friend just told me he thought I had a thing for his girlfriend when I am obviously smitten with my own. And that my girlfriend might have thought for a second I cared more about the only person I've been hating for months than about her."

You said nothing in response. The shake in your grip as you brought the drink to your lips said everything to him. You were frightened, and not by anything. By him. He raised his voice at you for the first time, and you weren't even the problem.

"Hey." he said in a much gentler tone. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day."

"I know."

You continued to drink quietly but he didn't take your answer as a good sign. He heard the slight worry in it and he hated the fact he caused it.

"I'm serious. I shouldn't have put all of my frustration on you, it's not fair."

You shook your head. "But you are right. I did worry for a second you cared more about her than me. It's stupid, I know. It's just..."

"Tell me, I won't judge."

You hesitated but eventually gained the courage to say it. "You're hot as hell when you act all heroic."

He spit his drink out before exploding in laughter. Meanwhile you started to whine and pout, shushing him from laughing at you.

"You promised you wouldn't judge." you cried out playfully.

"You're just too cute." he sneered at you. Walking around the counter, he stopped in front of you and brushed the hair off your face. "You wanted to be the one I saved and not Kitty?"

"No, I get why you did that because she was the one on fire and all. It's just you look handsome when playing the saviour."

He grinned and wrapped your legs around himself, helping you get a grip on him. "You want to be the damsel in distress that bad?"

"Yes." you admitted with a pout.

"Gosh, you look good when you're acting all innocent."

Getting a firmer grip on your thighs, he lifted you up which allowed you to be at his height. Licking his lips hungrily, he looked at you in a seductive way. You were glad he was holding you as it made your knees so weak just from the sight of him. Brushing your fingers through his dark locks, you attacked his lips. The tea long forgotten, he went immediately to his room and dropped you on the bed. Crawling on top of you, you took in his features with the little light you had. Even in the dark, he was breathtaking.

"Are you okay with this?"

You snorted. "As if this is the first time we've done something like this."

He shook his head. "I know but we might go further from here."

The tug you did on his shirt told him plenty. If you were that eager to take the clothes off him, you were eager for something else as well. He removed his upper clothing and leaned down to place soft kisses all over your face.

"I might go rough."

"I'm that hot?" you teased.

"Bloody fucking hot."

The front door opening only resulted to the both of you groaning in frustration.

"We really can't have a fucking break from them."

You laughed and gave him a kiss. "You're just sexually frustrated from being interrupted."

"And you're not?"

You giggled. "Cuddle up, I'm tired."

Though he would have liked to do something other than that, he complied and engulfed you in his warm body. You breathed in his smell and smiled to yourself. In all of what happened that day, you were just grateful to still have him by your side.

The morning was eventful. Kitty and Q were apparently mad at one another, Florian surpassed Dae in getting the best grades and you and Min Ho were nothing but depressed. He had told you he was going to Los Angeles to spend the holidays with his mother. You just didn't expect it to hurt as much. Still in bed, you played with his hair as he laid on your stomach.

"Baby, I can hear your heart and it's so fast." he mumbled.

"It's because I'm mad at you."

He sat up and moved to face you. "I'm leaving for a month at most, I'll be back before you know it." he reassured you as he stroke the skin of your sides softly.

"You're, like, the only good thing I have gotten out of this school. What am I going to do without you?"

"You're so dramatic, it's almost cute."

"Almost?"

He huffed. "Don't make me say it."

You laughed and brought his face to yours to kiss him. Your moment was cut short when you heard a groan from the other side of the room. Dae lazily got up and glanced at the two of you, both in shame and in embarrassment. While Min Ho brought the covers back on his upper body and turned his face away, you got out of his grasp and walked to Dae.

"Good morning."

"Hey." he said in a small voice.

"I know it's not really my place to tell, but you two care for each other a lot. I think it's the least of things to fix your problems before he leaves."

He let out an exhale and nodded. You gave him an encouraging smile before announcing to Min Ho that you were going to the other two flatmates.

You were sure to have heard Kitty's voice earlier so you didn't know why you only found Q in the living room.

"Hey, where is Kitty?"

He put his phone away and smiled sadly. "She got caught... for living with us."

You brought your hand to your mouth. "She's getting expelled, isn't she?"

"We don't know yet."

You sat with him and patted his back in comfort. As the door to the boys' room opened, you were at least glad to see them calm and amicable. Min Ho wasn't one to show his feelings much, so you knew they apologized and cleared things up.

"I'll need help packing." he said to you.

"Ask someone else, it'll just remind me you are leaving." you fake-cried.

"Stop being like this, come on." he nodded his head back to his room.

You shook your head. "Can we do something first?"

"What?"

Packing could wait. Instead, you offered him to go take some fresh air. You didn't care if you had no plan prepared whatsoever, you just wanted one last sweet moment with him before he left. You led him to a spot where a blooming tree stood with a bench next to it. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sighed as you reminisced the past months in this school.

"You're sad."

You let out a chuckle. "Thank you, Mr. Obvious."

"Don't be."

"Easier said than done."

He lifted you chin up and kissed your forehead gently. "We're not breaking up. I'm only going to see my mom... I miss her a lot."

You sniffed. "I know, and I'm glad you're going to spend time with her. I... I wish I didn't hate you so much before. So we could have had more time together, you know?"

He patted your head slightly before putting his hand on your cheek. "I think we hated each other for a reason. I know for a fact I hated how you presented yourself as that perfect girl who is too attractive for her own good."

You frowned. "Is it really how people see me?"

He laughed. "I can't say for others, but for me yes. And you just had to be that mesmerizing, it scared me."

You nodded your head slowly. "I see. And how was it a good thing for us?"

"It only drew me to you more. And before I knew it, I couldn't get you off my mind."

You melted at his words. "Me too."

"And, so," he continued. "that means you won't be out of my head when I'm away."

"Got it." you chuckled. "It still sucks."

"I know. We'll call, don't worry. You're not getting rid of me so easily."

"Can I do something real cheesy? You have no right to laugh at me, though."

As much as you hated it, he was right. You had nothing to worry about.

He grinned, expectedly. "What is it?"

You took the ring on your thumb off and asked for his pinky. You carefully placed it on it as it fitted perfectly. He let out an exhale at the gesture. With no hesitation, he took one of his own rings off and put it on your thumb as it was too big for your other fingers. He placed a soft kiss on it, earning a giggled from you.

"I love you."

Your eyes automatically got filled with tears. "Not more than I do."

So, with a heavy heart, you helped him pack his things. You made sure he brought with him a few of the polaroid pictures you took together and made him promise he'd show you off to anyone he met there.

"I'll go get my skincare products." he said after he pecked your lips.

You finished off by zipping up his luggage and it felt odd to see his side of the room almost empty. You had packed your own things as well since you'd be moving back with your uncle and aunt for the winter break. You brought everything by the front door and he was in awe at the sight.

"You're too sweet. I could have done that myself."

You took his hand. "It's helping me cope."

"Sure." he laughed. "I have to say bye to the others."

You knocked at their door and opened it to see them have a moment of their own, Q almost crying. You immediately went to hug Kitty yourself.

"You're really not coming back?"

"I'm afraid I'm not."

You could only tighten your hug from her words. "I'm really going to miss you."

Min Ho hand shook with Q. "Cheers, dude. I'll see you after the break."

You broke away from Kitty and hugged Q in his turn. "I better see you next semester."

"You will, for sure."

Min Ho pulled you back into his arm and rubbed your shoulder lovingly. "She's a bit emotional today."

You slapped him on his chest and he answered with a kiss on your head.

"We had a good run, Covey. Be good." he waved at her.

"Thanks, Min Ho."

With that, you both took your things and went outside to wait for your own car to come. This was it, a last moment before you could see him again in a month. You could keep away from each other, only able to say sweet words and goodbyes with a few kisses here and there. Your car was the first to arrive.

"Hop on, little pup."

You rolled your eyes. "Says the one who wanted us to stop with this."

"No, you were right. It's cute."

You smiled and kissed him one last time while your driver put everything in the trunk. "Text me when you get there? Just to let me know you, unfortunately, didn't crash."

He let out a scoff. "Alright, Park. Be petty."

He hugged you tightly before helping you get in the car. You waved him off as the chauffeur drove away from him.

You watched the trees pass by a few minutes later, finally getting used to the idea of him being away. The sudden pings from your phone were ignored at first, until they became too persistent. With annoyed groan, you opened your message app.

Dami: Hi, Y/N. I hope I have the right contact.

Dami: I am Min Ho's mother, Dami.

Dami: I'm sure he mentioned me, he sure mentioned you a lot to me.

Dami: I'd love to surprise my son when he gets here, if you are interested to participate.

Dami: Can I give you a call?

Although he was in first class, Min Ho hated travelling for hours. Getting close to no sleep, having to go through security at the airport, all of it were nothing but stressful. As he finally got his baggage back, he cheered himself up mentally with the thought of seeing his mother again. He kind of wished you were with him, to meet his mom properly.

To no surprise, the only recognizable person he saw was his mother's assistant. She bowed at him as a greeting before indicating for men, who he assumed were bodyguards, to get his things for him. He was disappointed she didn't come to get him herself, but he understood she was a public personality.

He was glad that the ride to where his mother lived was quick and efficient with close to little, even none, traffic. The gates of the mansion opened and he immediately spotted her standing at her porch, a smile spread on her face.

"Mom." he said as soon as he got out of the car.

"My boy! I'm so happy you got here safely." she exclaimed before hugging him tight. "Are you feeling tired?"

"A little bit, but I'm just happy to see you."

"Me too."

She led him inside and showed him the main rooms of the house before they sat in the living room. She offered him a refreshing drink before she installed herself comfortably.

"How was school? Did you do well?"

He nodded proudly. "Yes. I had excellent grades and I'd say I did better than last year."

"I'm glad." she said cheerfully. "You got along well with your friends? Made some more?" He nodded again happily. "And what about Y/N?"

He froze. "What about her?"

He hadn't gone in details about his relationship with her. Sure, he told her they were seeing each other but things got in the way and they were too busy for him to explain how things evolved.

"Are you in love?"

His face flushed as he got embarrassed. "Ah... I think I am."

She clapped her hands in excitement. "You could have invited her here, I would have love to meet her."

"I couldn't do that. She has her family back there. Plus, I could've scared her off by inviting her so far away after such a short amount of time being together."

She smiled sadly. "What a shame."

"Yeah..." he trailed off. He couldn't quite believe he already missed you. "It really is."

"So how come was I able to fly her here before you arrived?"

His head shot up from his mother's words. Looking around, and then looking back at her, he scoffed.

"Don't pull a joke like that!" he complained.

"She's not kidding."

He almost jumped from the sound of your voice coming from behind him. His brain malfunctioned as he looked back and forth from his mom to you.

"You little-" he cursed before chasing you.

You ran away as you exploded in laughter. Being smaller and weaker than him, he caught you in no time before spinning you around.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Surprise?"

He huffed and put you down. "You're crazy. You've got your family to spend the holidays with."

You shrugged. "A free trip to LA on a private jet to see my boyfriend sounded like a better deal. And don't worry, my aunt and uncle know I'm here."

He grinned like a child before pulling you into a long-lasting kiss, not even caring that his mom was in the same room. After you broke away, he led you to sit down with him.

"You were right, Min Ho. I love her." Dami squealed.

He smiled and then moved his eyes to stare back at yours. They glowed like never before and he couldn't believe how you were so mesmerizing to him.

"I love her, too."

#xo kitty #xo kitty fanfic #xo kitty x reader #xo kitty minho #xo kitty minho x reader #xo kitty min ho #xo kitty min ho x reader #min ho x reader #sang heon lee #sang heon lee x reader

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bibliophilesince2003 · 4 months ago

Text

Oplita Oneshot

This is based off of Transformers One. I've been itching to write something wholesome, and I absolutely adore Optimus and Elita as a couple. Normally, I put my writing on Wattpad. Then again, those are usually full-length stories. It just made sense to do this particular oneshot here. Perhaps I'll do more oneshots of my favorite fandoms in the future.

So, yeah, this is for my fellow die-hard Oplita fans.

Also... this takes place after the ending of Transformers One, maybe a few months or so after the ending. Sorry, I'm not sure what a month is in cybertronian terms; Google was unhelpful. If you have not seen Transformers One in its entirety, this one shot may not be as impactful as it could be.

Optimus ducked as he walked past the door frame, mumbling to himself. His eyes were glued to the data disks in his hands; he had grabbed far too many. A few dropped to the ground. He bent to pick them up, but only lost more in the process. Optimus shook his head and resorted to sitting on the ground, spreading out the data. Now he could read them better, though some of the works and markings were faded and illegible. He grunted, his legs getting in the way. Being taller and bulkier had its advantages in battle, but he couldn't exactly crawl through vents like he used to. Bee had joked that perhaps the Matrix of Leadership had a "switch" for shrinking, but Elita said that size didn't matter. Then, she promptly added, stupidity was sure to remain.

He was glad he didn't intimidate her, even after becoming a prime. Her suggestion to "adapt" to sudden change was both firm and helpful, though harsh. Now, it settled deep in his spark, and he began to overthink. What if he didn't adapt? Would she think less of him?

A memory flashed through his mind, eliminating his worries about Eilta. He may have been dying, but he remembered catching a glimpse of Elita leaning towards the edge of the well when he fell. It was both shocking and endearing, but he was glad Bee yanked her back. It warmed his heart before pain overtook it, pain so great that it rendered him unconscious. He hadn't mentioned it to her, and he didn't think he ever would. It would be a secret to hold on to, at least for the time being.

Optimus was so engrossed in his work he didn't hear the automatic doors open. When footfalls finally reached his ears, Optimus scrambled and gathered up the data disks to the best of his ability. Elita and a few of her soldiers in training turned the corner and walked down the hall. Elita put her hands on her hips.

"And here is our leader, on the ground and sorting through old data disks like a desperate scavenger. Don't worry; he's tougher than he looks."

"That's reassuring," said one of the trainees; a pink and white female cybertronian.

Optimus cleared his throat, gave a lop-sided grin, and backed up. He dumped the data disks on a table and apologized, though it was mostly for Elita's sake. When he returned to the group, Elita gave him an amused look, but waved a hand in front of the trainees.

"This is Arcee, Smoke, and Cliffjumper. It's part of their training to visit the archives. A tactical warrior is just as powerful as a physically strong one."

"Wheeljack was part of your training program, wasn't he?" Optimus asked.

Elita rolled her eyes, and Cliffjumper answered for her, holding back a laugh. "He got bored."

"He joked about starting his own group; a group that didn't mind going the extreme," Smoke said.

He paused, then added to his statement. "Maybe it wasn't a joke."

"It definitely wasn't a joke," Arcee said.

"I'll have a talk with him later," Elita said, and Optimus nodded.

He stared at the wall just above their heads, lost in thought. Elita straightened.

"You ok?" she asked.

"What?" Optimus snapped out of it. "Oh, I'm fine."

Elita turned to address her trainees. "Meal break. Get your energon and look over some of the data this place has to offer that you think will benefit you. I want you at the station in a couple of hours; no sooner, no later. Got it?"

They nodded and obeyed; heading down the hall and turning the corner. Silence fell as their chattering grew distant.

"I said I was fine," Optimus said, attempting a laugh.

It sounded hollow.

"What's wrong, Pax?"

Optimus' shoulders dropped in surrender. When she called him that, he always felt inclined to answer, as if he were a miner under her command again. "Pax" or "Orion" would only come from her, though, and she never used it in front of others. He was to be Optimus Prime to everyone else; a title that carried authority and a great deal of weight. All cybertronian citizens were aware that their life could never be the same; many were expected to train. Really, he wasn't the only one experiencing change.

"I don't know if I can do this," Optimus blurted, clenching his fists.

"You're going to have to be more specific," Elita said.

"I'm a prime, but I've never led. I'm expected to fight in a war that hasn't begun but haunts the future. I think we both know Megatron will be back; he will want to take my place. Maybe he should."

Elita sighed and took Optimus' hand. "Come on."

Dazed, Optimus nodded. They walked down the hall and through various rooms. Neither of them let go, fingers tightly intertwined.

"Find a place where we can talk, Pax. I haven't broken in here like you have."

"Commander's orders," Optimus said, picking up the pace.

They entered a dimly lit, musky room. Elita coughed, letting go of Optimus' hand to wave her hand in front of her face. "Couldn't you have picked a better place?"

"The worst places are often the best places," Optimus said.

"Is this vagueness going to be regular thing, now? I hate it."

Optimus braced his back against a shelving unit, though it didn't contain very many data disks. With a grunt he gave a few hard shoves, and the shelving unit moved to reveal a broken door that led to a precarious platform overlooking Iacon.

"Is this how you would get in?" Elita asked, coming closer to observe.

"No; there were more dangerous entry points with small ventilation systems. I got stuck for a full twenty minutes, once."

"And to think... if you had just stayed there, we could have avoided all this chaos."

"What... and have Cybertron miss this charm?" Optimus motioned to himself.

Elita rolled her eyes, but Optimus caught a small smile. He backed up, letting her go first, and Elita stepped onto the platform and approached the edge. She leaned forward, and Optimus sucked in an inward breath, squeezing past the door frame. She sat at the edge, legs dangling. As soon as Optimus sat beside her, she spoke.

"You won't know how to lead."

Great. Another one of her "encouraging" pep talks. Elita turned her head and waited until Optimus locked eyes with her.

"What I mean is... leading can never be mastered," Elita said. "So, you need to act like you have it all figured out. Voice your fears with the ones you trust, but don't put them on public display. You're right; Megatron is out there somewhere, plotting your demise."

"I don't like the thought of preparing citizens for war," Optimus said.

"It has to be done. The few already capable fighters we have don't stand a chance."

"I know."

"We have to win," Elita said.

Silence fell. They could both agree on that. Elita put a hand on his shoulder.

"You are nothing like Megatron."

"I... try to envision him as he was. He was my greatest friend, Elita. And yet, anyone is capable of betrayal."

"You may doubt yourself, but I would never betray you. Even when I seemed your enemy, yelled at you, and -"

"Punched me in the face?" Optimus offered.

"Yes, even then, I never hated you. You were just... too ambitious and eager for my taste."

"Interesting," Optimus said, looking upwards in thought.

Elita laughed and knocked him in the shoulder, and Optimus gasped dramatically and fell, rolling closer to the edge of the platform.

"I thought you would stop punching me," Optimus groaned, finally sitting up when Elita's eyes widened, no doubt worried he might fall, or perhaps having PTSD of when he had, in fact, fallen.

"Oh, come on! That wasn't a punch," Elita said.

Optimus laughed and stood up, offering a hand. Elita took it, and he helped her up.

"What were you doing rifling through the data disks, anyway?"

"I'm trying to find what remains of Alpha Trion's wisdom. The Matrix of Leadership offers many surprises, but I'm without a mentor. I wish he were here."

"You have everything and everyone you need," Elita said.

Optimus dipped his head, and Elita placed her hands on either side of his face, lifting it back up. "I expect you to be on the training grounds this afternoon. Maybe you can convince Wheeljack to join the group."

"Would they listen to me?"

"You have an axe for a hand. How could they not?"

Optimus laughed, and Elita lowered her hands, nodding in satisfaction.

"Thanks, Elita."

"Any time, Pax."

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