#this is literally the first thing I thought of when I saw the two consecutive miracles scene

[kcsplace]

"The first pair will breach the reactor by dropping a laser-guided bomb on an exposed ventilation hatch. This will create an opening for the second pair. That’s miracle number one. The second team will deliver the kill shot… And destroy the target. That’s miracle number two."

Bonus

This was the first thing I thought of when I saw TGM, ngl

Top Gun Silliness

[ink-perfect]

obsessed bf!gojo x gn!reader ⋆. based on: 22 - lil candy paint, bhad bhabie

gojo had a bad habit.

a bad habit of blowing up your phone.

it wasn’t the 'three texts in a row' kind of blowing up, either.

oh no, gojo satoru didn’t do small-scale chaos.

it was an art form for him. the type of masterpiece that made your phone buzz off your nightstand at 3 a.m. with thirty consecutive messages that alternated between blurry selfies, close-ups of his sunglasses, and texts like:

“hey👋 (with the intention of getting midnight sushi)”

“do u think panda would let me dye him pink? 🤔”

“pick up plzzz i jsut saw the funniest video on instagram but i accidnetally exited tje app it and cant find it anymore so i'm jsut going to explain it to you in excruciatign detail”

and tonight was no different—except this time, it came after your first real argument.

you couldn’t even remember what had set it off anymore, but it had ended with you storming off and gojo… well, doing whatever gojo does when someone’s mad at him (eating mochi and sulking).

soon enough, after an hour or so of no contact, the first barrage had begun: thirty consecutive texts ranging from the initial

“i’m sorry 🥺👉👈”

to a dramatic

“why do you hate me? 😭💔 (don't answer that.)”

you’d ignored all of them, determined to let him stew.

but then the calls begun.

ring after ring, voicemail after voicemail, starting out with intense professions of love that slowly faded into desperate pleas for you to call him back, text him back, to respond just once.

and when those went unanswered too, he escalated.

your phone buzzed on your nightstand, flashing yet another text. this time, it came with a photo—gojo lying facedown on what appeared to be megumi’s couch, his hand clutching an empty box of tissues. the caption read:

“i’ve been crying for 84 years 😢 come back pls”

you rolled your eyes, but found the corner of your mouth twitching up despite yourself. he was impossible.

another buzz. this one said,

“fine if ur not gonna answer just know ur the light of my life and i’ll literally wither away like an unwatered houseplant if u don’t forgive me soon 😭 also ur socks are still in my room do u want me to wash them or nah”

the buzz after that said,

“actually nah i'm not bothered to wash them"

and then another buzz.

"also u look hotter when ur mad 🥰”

the audacity of this man.

you let your impulses get the better of you and texted back a stern "leave. me. alone."

and not even a second later, your phone screen lit up with gojo's face for the umpteenth time.

you groaned, snatching it up and finally swiping to answer to put an end to all of this.

“gojo, what part of ‘leave me alone’ don’t you understand?!”

“oh my god,” he gasped, his voice overflowing with fake relief. “you’re alive!”

“i—”

“you weren’t answering, so i thought maybe you’d been kidnapped! or fallen down a well! or—”

“i ignored you,” you interrupted sharply. “on purpose.”

“no yeah, i got that,” he said breezily, completely unfazed. “but we're talking now! the devil sure does work hard, but gojo works harderrrrr."

"gojo—"

"so, how much did ya miss me?”

"gojo."

"also did you see my text about the socks?”

"gojo!"

“aaaaand i’m outside your window by the way.”

“you’re what?”

“outside!” he chirped back like it was the most normal thing in the world.

sure enough, when you yanked open your curtains, there he was—gojo satoru, standing on your lawn in a hoodie two sizes too big, clutching a mismatched bouquet of convenience store snacks and flowers that you could just tell he had made himself.

“ta-da~!” he grinned into the phone as you watched him hold up the haul like it was an olympic medal. “i come bearing gifts!”

you gawked at him. “are you serious?”

“deadly,” he said, his smile widening so much you could even see it from your vantage point. “i brought your favourite snacks, and also, i stole these flowers from my neighbour’s garden. don’t tell anyone.”

“oh my god.” you smacked your forehead, torn between laughing and drawing your curtains shut. “it’s three in the morning.”

“yeah, well, you didn’t answer my texts,” he said, pouting dramatically. “do you have any idea how sad that made me? i’m so sad, baby, like, devastated. i swear i saw my life flash before my eyes.”

you folded your arms, mock unimpressed. “what’s sad is that you think this is going to work.”

“it’s already working,” he shot back smugly. “you’re talking to me, aren’t you?”

you hated that he was right. you hated even more that your annoyance was quickly being replaced by amusement. he was lucky he was cute.

“toru, just go home,” you sighed, though your voice lacked its earlier venom.

“not until you forgive me,” he declared, dropping to one knee with such theatrics you were surprised broadway hadn't whisked him away already. “or at least let me in so i can grovel properly.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“yeah. unbelievably in love with you.”

you threw a pillow at the window, even though it wouldn’t reach him, giving yourself a minute to think.

okay, more like a few seconds.

to be fair, you were sure he had learnt his lesson. and, well...you were craving ramen, which happened to be placed front and centre in his haphazard bouquet.

“fine!" you whisper-yelled into the phone, a smile already creeping its way onto your face despite your best efforts to stay mad. "but if you wake up my neighbours, i swear i'm locking you out.”

his grin practically lit up the yard. “deal!”

and just like that, you were stomping down the stairs, blanket in hand, ready to let in the most exasperating, ridiculous, adorable man you’d ever met.

because, really, how could you stay mad at him?

masterlist

© ink-perfect; est. 2024.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Gale x Tav

WORDS: 1994

RATING: E

PAIRING: Gale x Tav (post game pairing)

SUMMARY: Gale's perspective on how his lovely little ring went while he was all alone, watching Tav through his projection's eyes (part i part ii)

TAGS: magic sex (literally. but also metaphorically), f/m, voyeurism, Gale using magic for naughty reasons, masturbation

-------------------------------🟣--------------------------------

Some of the most gifted, magically academic minds were in this hall right now. And all they could do was argue about table settings.

Gale sighed and stood up from his chair with his drink. Already tuning out the lively debate about Faerûn midcentury design and how one professor could tell that its wood was clearly Zazesspur from the pre-capital era, while another professor stated she was clearly being absurd as the lines in the wood were obviously from a wood in a much more norther region like Neverwinter.

He left his wife home alone for this?

Gale left the company of his fellow academics for his quarters. No one seemed to notice. There was a time when Gale himself would have been immersed in the lively debate along with his other book beaters. Sparing wits and parring with obscure contextual footnotes for no other reason than to prove they were the smartest in the room. It all seemed so trivial now.

Once you’ve brushed against death, not once but twice, and fought the destruction of the world with your bare hands, academic strife seemed…pointless. Absolutely pointless. Like the rest of this week had been.

When he originally received the invitation for the summit, Gale had been overjoyed. Honored, more like. To be recognized as a man of distinction at the school he held so dear, in education in general, for only just starting was a great achievement for him, he felt. Now he wonders if it was just that no one wanted to go, because it was so boring.

He wished that he could have just projected his consciousness here, like Tav suggested, so he could be home with her now. With his much better wine and much less blow-harded company.

The door to his quarters clicked into place behind him and Gale sighed at the quiet. Enjoying it for just a moment, until he opened his eyes and saw just the small desk, by his small bed, in his small room, with his small window. Oh to be home…..

Gale took a seat at the desk as he wasn’t quite ready for bed. He sat his wine down. His magic lighting the few lamps in the room for him to see as he debated about reading or reviewing the agenda plan for tomorrow in want of something to do.

Then his eyes caught a glint of the ring resting on the oak (or was it Neverwinter ashe?) and picked it up. A gift from his wife. One of those spontaneous, no reason, ‘I was down by the market & I thought you would like it’ kind of gifts. Gale smiled wistfully at the memory of her giving it to him. And he thought he was the romantic out of the two of them.

His thumb brushed against the smooth silver. Admiring it, like he wished he could be admiring her right now. This was the longest he and his beloved had been apart since they got married. A few days here and there, but nothing this consecutive nor extensive. Gale doesn’t like it.

He tries not to be obsessive with his love, but when Gale loves he loves passionately. And Tav has been a big part of his life ever since she pulled him out of that misbehaving portal. They’ve built a life together. She’s the first person he wants to tell everything about his day, and eager to hear what she’s been up to when they were apart. And at night...well, let’s just say that it was a good thing this place had the option for bracing cold baths in the morning.

Gale examines the ring further as his teeth pull in his bottom lip. ‘I wonder if it will work’ He mused to himself as he pondered on a spell he had created a few months back but never put into practice.

It started out purely from an academic standpoint. He wanted to make that very clear! Just a simple…trans configuration experiment on magically linking two objects together and see what the effects would be. He hadn’t intended for it to turn into a sort of randy parlor trick, but he had impulse control issues.

Setting the ring down, Gale recalled the simple incantation and gesture needed for the spell. Focusing his magic and the Weave to press not just into the ring but also link to his beloved. He hoped Mystra had her back turned for a moment while he cast this one.

Spell incantation done, Gale picked up the ring and gave it a small nudge. Nothing happened. He supposed that should be obvious. The effects would be on the other side of the link and not here with him. Gale tried it again, hoping to feel some kind of magical sense of confirmation, but still nothing.

Humming to himself in befuddlement, Gale looked over at the clock in his room and did some quick math. It was almost 2:30 in Waterdeep. Which meant that it was almost time for his normal office hours at the academy. Perfect. If Tav was there, which he was certain she would be as she was dutiful to a fault, then Gale knew exactly where they were, and he could see if his ‘gift’ was working out well for her.

Calling on the Weave again, Gale focused his consciousness and perception to separate from him and fly back home to Waterdeep. Silently wishing it was that easy for him. When his projection landed, and the mental link between them righted into a clear picture, Gale’s mouth went slack as he saw Tav. "Gods above...." Her cheeks were flushed. Her breath panting. Her body in clear stages of pleasure as her hands braced herself on his desk. Gods! What he wouldn’t give to be there right now to make love to her on that definitely Sword Coast mahogany.

“Hello there!”

Tav’s head jerked up at his projections greeting, and Gale groaned at the wild look in her eyes. Surprise first, but then bridled arousal. Just waiting to be unbridled and throw her into loss, but his dutiful love was well aware she was still in public and in a school.

When she spat an accusatory remark about him doing this to her and Gale touched the stone of the ring now on his hand. He watched Tav’s knees quake in response. It worked. Oh....goody.

He moaned in tandem with her image but then told his specter to tell her what was going on. Gale didn’t want to leave her in the dark. Tav seemed to accept this, but then asked about all the practicalities of him doing this at work and getting caught. Wouldn’t that be a shame?

He tells his image to tell her about his office hours and the locked down, then moaned along with her as her hold finally became unbridled and she fell into his chair. Limbs asunder as she just accepted what was happening to her and gave into the pleasure.

Gale continued to touch the stone with one hand, while the other went to his belt and quickly undid it. He’s been hard since he first saw her against his desk. Now seeing her give loose to the pleasure, Gale might cum in his pants like he was a novice back in school and Gods could you imagine if he had someone like Tav for a teacher?? He’d still be in his Active Principles of Elements & Arcane lectures.

His hand stroked his erection with the same speed as his massaged the stone. “Tell her I’m happy she likes my present.” He orders his projection. Watching her through their eyes. It did as it was told and Tav opened her eyes to stare right back into them. Gale moaned. The heat in her eyes, the desire, that cheeky grin coiling on her lips almost make him double over against his own desk.

“My present, eh?” Tav answered back, and Gale bit his lip so hard he nearly tasted blood.

“Yes. Of course. I did this for you.”

The projection relayed his response, but that doesn’t seem to convenience Tav. “Just for me?” Gale watched, transfixed, as his beloved began to open her blouse ‘in front of him’.

He whimpered at the sight as his thumb brushed over the aching red tip of his cock. He had to swallow the drool collecting in his mouth before he could respond with, “yes” for his projection to repeat. But the damn thing went rouge and blurted out his secret, so he pressed his thumb harder against this stone to distract Tav from its honesty.

Soon, Tav was begging him to fuck her. Desperate and needy. Mewling like a wanton kitten; or maybe that was just him. She asked if his projection was anatomically correct like last time and before it could fully answer, Gale ordered, “no!” He didn’t want to watch an illusion of himself make love to his wife. It was silly to be jealous of a projection of himself, that he created, but Gale wouldn’t have it.

If he couldn't have her, no one could. Not even his illusions.

Tav whined and looked ready to just do it herself. Gale gulped as he watched her hand move to the front of her pants, prepared to slide down and--Gale gripped the base of his cock to stop himself from cumming. He wants them to cum together, but it seemed rude to have Tav finish herself off.

Conjuring all the magic he could, Gale used the mind’s eye of his projection to summon Mage Hands. They touch her everywhere he wanted to, all at once. Tav seemed delighted, although overstimulated. He would have to remember that for later. Her delicate sweet hands gripping the armrests of his chair as her body arched and bucked against the hands. Gale watching it all as he jerked himself closer and closer to the edge. “Tav…!” He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he had to say it. Almost a reflex at this point as he came.

His hand was a mess. Portions of his desk splattered with it too. Cold baths only negated the symptoms, not the cause. So he was quite backed up since coming here.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Gale and Tav look up at the projections ask. Taking it upon itself to check in on her. What a good little ghost.

She told it yes, and Gale felt his cock twitch at the look in her eyes. Perfectly sated and happy, but still that glimmer of ‘more’. He tells the projection to let Tav know that the door would be opening soon, and she should get righted with herself; lest they be discovered. She made a very clever retort about him deciding to do this here if he was so concerned, which made him smile and love her all the more.

Gods how he missed her.

“Ask her if she would like to do this again tonight. When we're at home, and a little more private.”

The projection did as it was told, and Gale groaned as Tav bit her lip before giving an enthusiastic yes. Then, Gale severed the link, and he was alone again. Alone with only his hand and his memories.

He cleaned himself off and thought about going back downstairs for a final nightcap, as he was too riled up still to sleep. But when he opened the door, and heard the architecture debate still going on, only now they had switched to stone, Gale closed the door and rested his head on whatever cheap wood this terrible door was made out of.

He had to get out of here. He had to go home.

So he spent the rest of the evening coming up with a clever plan and semi-lie about how his wife needed him. “Emergency. Unavoidable. Must get home before my wife spontaneously combusts…without me. Should probably leave that last part out.”

[hearts-4-vicky]

can you do quarterback minji x shy cheerleader reader? i literally just thought of this and i think it’s adorable

ty baby<3

warnings: kissing, fluff, swearing…, minji is cringe…(shes a loser to me) kinda short😭and um thats it😜

i only know a few things abt football so 🫠

(not proofread…)

The championship football game was already in its fourth quarter, with 50 seconds on the clock. To say Minji was stressed was a HUGE understatement, being the quarterback was cool and all😵‍💫 but when her team’s losing by 3 points its gonna get to her🥺The pressure was getting wayy too much for her since the school has been winning for 9 consecutive years. If they lose, not only will she be failing her school and her teammates, but also you🥺🥺🥺You were the reason she started playing football in the first place, her good luck charm, her cheerleader 🎀 Co-Captain and one of the flyers (someone thrown and lifted in stunts) in the schools cheer squad, y/n l/n (basic asf but shit thats the only option 😭)

Calling a timeout was the best option, all they needed was one touchdown and boom, win😝 though its gonna be harder since their best wide receiver, Yunjin, had suffered a bad shoulder injury just a few minutes before (idk who to put on this team😭) Minji had no game plan since it all relied on Yunjin’s speed and agility, she needed to think of something😵‍💫 Getting in a circle with her team, she speaks up “Okay guys! Just one more push and we win the whole thing right?” Minji flashes a grin, trying to be optimistic “how are we gonna score? Yunjins out and Yujin can barely run without staring at the cheer captain.. Look! She has heart eyes right now!” Haewon was right, Yujin wasn’t even listening to the team but staring at Wonyoung🥺(i love them) Minji noticed you were there too, talking with wony, laughing at something she said🎀 She unconsciously smiles at you, your smile brought light to the dark skies of the night and your laughter made her feel warm🥺 “Fuck.. I forgot you’re both down bad…” Ryujin mentions, the whole team starting to tease those two😭”Alright alright! Yujin, lets do this for our girlfriends… Everyone make sure no one is guarding her!” “Gotchu bro, but I think we need your pretty girlfriends to cheer us on real quickkk” Yuna pokes both Minji and Yujin🎀 “Suck my- “LETS GO BEARS!” (idk man😭) You and Minji make eye contact, “You got this” is what she reads from your lips. A fire lit in her heart as she saw you throw her a kiss, she’s ready for the game.

“HUT HUT! HIKE!” Minji scans the field for Yujin, seeing her in the open, she throws it to her. Caught it. Yujin sprints with everything she had as both teams were after her. One of the opposing team members came out of no where, making Yujin trip. Minji winces at it, must’ve hurt bad. She only thinks of one think,

We fucked it up. We lost.

“HOLY SHIT I DID IT?!” Yujin’s piercing shout got the attention of everyone, she got the ball past the goal line🙏

The stadium erupted into cheers as people started running to the field to celebrate😍😍😍 You full on SPRINT to see your girlfriend, pushing everyone out of the way (r u the football player now or what😭🙏)

Smiling brightly as you spot each other. Minji throws her helmet to the floor to catch you😵‍💫

“YOU WERE SO GOOD OUT THERE BABY!!!” You said as you jumped into Minjis open arms, kissing her face between every word🥺(me when) “I’m all sweaty babe! hol-“”don’ttt care!” Minji stifles a snort as you pepper her face so more, “couldn’t have done it without you, my sunshine” accepting your soft lips against every inch of her face while spinning you around had you both in your own world🥺🥺🥺 Both of you were giggling like teens in love (duh) as your lipstick stains her still sweaty face😛 you guys are taken back to reality as the school journalists come to interview you guys “Who would like to thank for this win Kim Minji?” the camera pans to you guys, still in her arms as she replies,

“My gorgeous girl right here!!”

you hide your face in her neck, blushing at her words

“And those marks on your face?”

“M-minji wait-“

“Also from this gorgeous girl!”

She’s never seen your face as red as it was before😭

with annyeongz

“but I scored the touchdown…”

“Let them have their moment love”

ive been wantin to write fluff again omg 🙏🙏

im sorry i havent been doing many requests lately, ive gotten a bit busier than usual😭 I need to get my grades up or else im out☹️Ive only been writin for school this week im so sorry if this isnt that good😭😭😭

Im really sorry my loves❤️ Stay safe and love you guys!!

-Vicky💋

[lestappenforever]

Since I’m on a roll with the race, here’s my post race analysis if the insane British Grand Prix (which gave us the strategic race we hopes Monaco would be tbh)

Williams, see what happens when you give both your drivers competent cars with 2024 components and such. One goes to score and the other is literally this close to scoring points. Also, something that broke my heart is the way Logan was kinda panicking over Alex’s car having a piece of bodywork off, and not for comedic reasons, he’s been with this team and they’ve let him down enough times that he thought they’d sacrifice his race for Alex, which thank God they didn’t.

Haas, I am beyond impressed and Nico is a midfielder goat (judge me, but he’s pulling his haas places it should never be tbh). Qualified and finished p6, two consecutive p6 finishes. This man is just way too underrated for his own good. And something I was talking with my friend about is this: Nico is a mechanical engineer, so he understands and knows the jist of things around the garage. And for the first time (I think) he doesn’t have a bozo as his to, rather a technical one, and this is why he’s able to extract everything and more from this car. Also in this house, we love Haas and Nico.

VCARB are still improving and impressing me. Let’s be real, Yuki had no business in scoring today, but he did, and that is just something I love to see, Daniel was meh, okay, nothing to crazy. What will happen this Thursday and beyond, is what’s gling to be bery interesting.

Ferrari ate back to the Ferrari ways of using Charles as a lab rat, and not giving him dat. I want to understand, why was Charles given different information to Carlos? I mean he was starting p11 for goodness sake, very good chance at points, but Ferrari just ruined his race with the information he was given. Carlos was given proper information and you could see that, he even made a place up from his starting position so it is beyond me why Charles was misinformed (and why he signed in the first place, but that is a discussion for another ask)

Now for the last 3 teams, Red Bull, Mercedes and McLaren. I’ll start by Checo who had a race to forget, especially because apparently both driver were givn the option to pit, and Checo chose the wrong window for it. But he needs to wale up or that seat could go as soon as next year. As for George, his race and strategy was spot on, and I can’t fault him or the team for anything, it was just unlucky that the water system broke, a mechanical failure, not a fault of his own.

Now, for the next 4 drivers, this is what will sum it up: engineers-driver communications.

Lewis and Bono has clear communication throughout the whole race, and the strategy was pretty spot on (though the softs were not it as we saw towards the end) but he was able to pull through, and went ahead for an emotional 9th British GP win. This is because of the decision and the information that was passed between driver, race engineer, strategy team and the other engineers who are all involved in the race real time.

Max-GP-Hannah, Will and Red Bull strategy team. I love you, that’s all I could say. Set up wasn’t working at the beginning, but the communication between Max and GP, as well as the others behind the scene, with Hannah on the pit wall, asking Max WHEN je’d like to pit in a pit stop window, how much rain/water/spar, how confident is he, and how he wants it to go, then the decision of fuck it slicks now when Lewis pitted was an example of how much they discussed and how much Max has learned from these guys, when to feel confident with the data and the car, the grip and how to cut that pit stop, undercutting Lando and then going ahead to snatch P2, so close to P1. The strategy team should be beyond proud of themselves for the hard compound choice, it was actually the best, with the tyres not dying early and giving that RB20 speed and grip it lacked during the medium stint. I am sure if anyone would have asked Max or Red Bull if he’d get P2, 1.4 seconds off P1 at the beginning if the race, they would have called this person not just insane, a nut case.

McLaren however are a different case, the communications between the engineers and the drivers was just not there. Pitting Oscar late and leaving him out, only to be slotted behind Max after pitting for inters and Max has speed and confidence on those inters. Then the all over the place for the slicks, asking oscar what tyres he wants and he says mediums, which was a better choice than Lando’s choice of softs that cost him p2. I mean, the strategy was all over the place and the data was not properly provided to both Lando and Oscar, that’s why both were disappointed, from a potential 1-2 to a disappointing and discouraging 3-4 and a lack of proper communication with their engineers.

To sum up, this race relied on strategy and communication not just speed. And as seen, Ferrari never learn, Red Bull are beyond amazing (touches wood because I’m superstitious and don’t want to jinx them), McLaren are with the fuck it we’re quick isn’t going to give them wins, and Mercedes with the slow but sure consistency go places. Now let’s hope Red Bull have upgrades that Pierre said about because I can’t handle this anymore, and BRING IN HUNGARY

Yet another beautiful analysis that deserves to shine in all its glory.

[28dayslater]

alex i fucking howled when i read this bc LITERALLY the first thing i thought when i first saw this vid was “mmmmmm need him so bad”

andy try not to simp for mike stoklasa for two consecutive minutes challenge (VERY HARD)

[bingoboingobongo]

collision

Pairing: Peter Parker (The Amazing Spiderman) x Reader

Type: Fluff

Summary: Peter almost knocks you down a flight of stairs, and then he offers a proposal you just can’t say no to.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: theft, lack of sleep

A/N: hiii, welp today’s a day for new things ig. i literally wrote this in like two hours and managed to not write over 5k words (unheard of) and i’m using second person for something that’s not a hc???. anyways DON’T QUOTE ME but i might make a part two (or maybe a mini-series we’ll see). as always, likes/reblogs/comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated, thx :)

Masterlist

At first you thought you were just delirious. You hadn’t gotten much sleep recently — what with your noisy roommate who refused to wear earbuds and your ever-increasing list of homework assignments and essays. You had begun supplementing your lack of energy with caffeine and while you knew it wasn’t the smartest option, you didn’t think it would make you hallucinate. Besides, it wasn’t like you were pulling consecutive all-nighters, you were still able to get some sleep on the hard library tables.

Which is why it didn’t make sense for this to be happening. The entire situation seemed laughable, but you were too stressed and this felt too catastrophic for you to find humor in it. You tried to make your legs move, maybe this was your imagination, and once you reengaged with reality everything would go back to how it was supposed to be.

And yet here you stood, just a few steps outside your university’s lecture halls, staring at the patch of sidewalk where your bike had resided just an hour and a half ago. Everyone had warned you of the dangers of owning a bike on campus, your parents, your friends, heck even the tour guide on your first day of classes. You had done everything in your power to prevent your bike from getting stolen — you even splurged on what was supposed to be an extra secure lock to keep your bike safe while you were in classes. But how the hell were you supposed to prevent this?

You probably would have stood in front of the building for hours if someone didn’t crash into you, sending you nearly face first down the steps before he managed to catch your wrist. “Oh shoot— sorry.” You heard the stranger say, not recognizing the voice. You twisted around and it took a moment for you to recognize him; you weren’t used to seeing him so up close. Frankly, you weren’t really used to seeing him at all, considering that he usually sat behind you in class.

You tried to remember his name, but he never talked much and you were too busy with school to bother getting to know everyone in your class. “Peter?” you guessed, cringing at how unsure you sounded. You heard a breath catch in his throat, and you were suddenly aware of how close the two of you were. His hand was still clutching onto your wrist; his skin felt rough and calloused, and you wondered how they got that way. The two of you were teetering on the edge of the step, forcing you to press your body against him, lest you want to topple down the stairs and probably end up with a nasty concussion. You could feel his breath fan across your face — which smelled like spearmint — and you prayed that he couldn’t feel how rapidly your pulse was beating.

“Uhm, sorry,” you said awkwardly, peeling yourself away from him and finding residence on the step below him. “Standing on the edge of a bunch of stairs probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.” You gave him a sheepish smile, darting your eyes away from his when you saw how he was staring at you. “Anyways, I should probably go, that 4,000 word essay Professor Specklehorn assigned us isn’t gonna write itself,” you said, letting out a half-hearted chuckle at your petty attempt at humor. 

You figured that would be enough for the brunette to let go of your wrist, which was hanging limply in his vice-like grip, and yet he still wouldn’t let go, instead continuing to stare blankly at you. You should probably have been freaked out by this, and maybe you should’ve pulled out your pepper spray by now, but for some reason you didn’t feel scared.

The atmosphere between you two felt thick and tense, as if there was some sordid past between the two of you filled with years of history and feelings for each other. It didn’t make sense though, because you had never even really met Peter before today, and you definitely didn’t notice the tiny flecks of light brown in his dark eyes or the sharp points of his canines that were just barely visible behind those sultry pink lips.

You froze. Why the hell was your mind going there? You had more important things than crushing on some random junior in your American Literature class who probably spent more time sleeping in class than actually reading. You had an essay to write and homework to complete and a stupid police report to file for your stolen bike. You couldn’t keep standing here, getting lost in some stranger’s eyes as the sun went down.

“I really have to go now,” you repeated, taking a step backwards and trying to tug your wrist away from him. He kept staring at you though, and for a moment you wondered if he had suddenly had a stroke or something. You waved your free hand in front of his face, trying to catch his attention, and then suddenly he was like a toy soldier sprung into life.

“I— Oh my god. I’m— I— I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he fumbled, tripping over his words as they rushed out of his mouth. You were almost shocked by his sudden change of demeanor, and you tried to ignore the hurt that rose inside of your chest when he dropped your wrist hurriedly, like it had burned him. “God I—” he started again, rubbing his hand against his face, “I— I don’t even know what I was doing. I was trying to run back to my dorm. It was stupid. I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

You watched him struggle to explain himself, and you had to tamp down a chuckle that threatened to spill out. It wasn’t that you thought he was embarrassing or anything; endearing was the word you would use. Who knew the sleepyhead in class could be so full of bashful charm?

“It’s fine,” you told him, and you had to repeat it a few times before he actually heard you. “It’s my fault too, I was standing right in front of the doors, I should’ve moved or something.”

Peter didn’t say anything, and you didn’t either. Suddenly the atmosphere became stiflingly awkward as the two of you stared at each other, neither one knowing what to say.

“I should—” you started.

“You usually—” he said at the same time. 

“I— Sorry, you go ahead,” you said, gesturing for him to continue.

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was just gonna say, you usually bike to your dorms right? I’ve seen you a few times this year.”

You took in a sharp breath, “Actually, I have to walk home today. Some douche took the bike rack.”

Peter paused, and you figured his face was probably identical to the one you had made just minutes earlier. “The bike rack? Like, the thing that holds the bikes? The whole thing?” he asked, his voice dripping with incredulity.

You chuckled, which ended up turning into a delirious school-girl giggle. “Yup,” you said, shrugging your shoulders, “an hour and a half ago there was a bike rike right next to that trash can and now there’s not. I don’t know how they did it, but somewhere out there some guy is probably enjoying a few stolen bikes and a free bike rack.”

Peter looked over to where you had pointed, and you watched his mouth gape open when he noticed the absence of the metal rack. You couldn’t help but giggle again, which felt wrong for some reason, but the sensation washed over you and you couldn’t do anything about it. Peter began to join in too, and the two of you stood in front of the building, giggling over a stolen bike rack like you were children.

Your eyes began to tear up from laughing so much, and you tried to take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Oh my god,” you cried, wiping your eyes, “I’m sorry, I just haven’t slept in like forever so I guess the deliriousness is finally getting to me.”

“Yeah I saw you passed out at the library last night, I was wondering how much sleep you were getting,” he remarked, and you paused, suddenly embarrassed. What if you were an ugly sleeper? What if you were snoring? What if you were drooling? And furthermore, why the hell did you care so much what he thought of you? “Don’t worry,” he said, sensing your turmoil, “you looked just like every other sleep deprived college student here, which is to say perfectly fine.”

You let out a sigh, “Well that’s a relief. At least I won’t have to worry about embarrassing myself when I’m sleeping anymore.”

“Why were you sleeping at the library anyways?” he asked. “I mean, shouldn’t you have a dorm you can go to?”

You groaned, “I wish. My stupid roommate read somewhere that listening to music on earbuds is bad for you or something, so she’s completely boycotted them. And that would be fine, right? Except she listens to the loudest, god-awful music all night long, and as soon as I think she’s done she’ll start playing some random lecture at the highest volume. God, I just want one night where I can fall asleep to the hum of air conditioning and not the faint sobs of students crying in the back of an organic chemistry lecture.”

Peter chuckled at that, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at humoring him. “Hey, if you want, you can stay at my place,” he offered. “My roommate dropped out at the beginning of the year so I have an empty bed.” You sucked in a breath, staring at him tentatively. “If it helps, I’m a big fan of earbuds and I don’t snore,” he added, eliciting a sheepish grin from you.

You sighed. What you were about to do felt wrong. It felt like it was going to lead to something more, and you weren’t sure if you wanted that. But you were tired. And you really hated your roommate’s music, so despite the protests of your logical mind, you said, “That’d be great. Where’s your dorm?”

[yoonpobs]

Unmm request: it's always jk whos fucking around so....... how about we make a difference... fuckgirl!yn x shy!jk 👀👀 thank u in advance!!! ❤️

NOW ... the tables have most definitely turned ... if bbgt oc and jk switched lives but tbh oc here is still devilishly sweet so >:) i saw this ask and was like TIME TO BRING CHAOS

pairing: shy!jk x fuckgirl!oc

genre: SMUT

warnings: cock worship, oc calls jk pretty, slobber 

words: 1, 648

Jungkook’s done a lot of impulsive things in his life. Like the one time, he bought five hundred dollars worth of in-game money purely because he was running on red bull and pulled two consecutive all-nighters for a game tournament Taehyung roped him into, or maybe even switching up his major because it didn’t feel interesting to him anymore; Jungkook’s an impulsive person.

But he’d like to think that he was reasonably impulsive, acting on his human nature rather than out of it. Though, right now he can’t say he believes himself either.

“How does it feel?” You coo, voice like a sin when you lean forward and Jungkook can’t look anywhere but at your tits. He wants to look up but then he’ll see your face and that’s no better for his muddled mind.

“G-Good,” He croaks, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head when he feels the slow drag of your pussy across his cock.

God, he’s never been so hard in his entire life. Not even in his secret masturbation sessions when he was forced to room with Taehyung in the first semester of college and had to listen to him and his girlfriend fuck until the wee hours of the morning. Because you were sin personified, all his desires manifested into a human being and staring him right in the face; awaiting him to pathetically give in.

“Just good?” you pout teasingly. Your hand reaches back to cup his balls in your palm and they’re hot and heavy when you squeeze, evoking a tight groan from Jungkook’s chest. He was so sweaty, chest heaving as he attempts to clear his head. He wasn’t even in your pussy yet and yet he feels himself on the brink of release. “That’s not right. Want it to be great,” You smile, and Jungkook swears he sees the devil horns appear by your head.

“F-Fuck—it’s—great,” Jungkook literally whines, hips bucking up to meet your hands as they squeeze his balls in tandem with the way you grind against his cock. He can feel each firm and slow drag of your cunt, the wetness that seeps through your folds leak out of your hole and wholly glazes his cock. His mind is fuzzy and he can only think of how hot and wet you’d feel.

You grind faster like a woman on a mission and all Jungkook can do is moan breathily, hands shakily gripping your hips tightly; so tempted to slip into your hot cavern.

Jungkook never even dared to dream about having you this way. He’s heard about you, of course, he had. You were the girl everyone wanted to be with or be. He’s heard stories about how your pussy was magical, and how you were the devil reincarnate; that every person who had the liberty of coming across you only drowned in your essence and got hooked onto the feeling of euphoria when you sent them over the edge.

You were perfect, in Jungkook’s eyes. You were so pretty and he wanted to call you a bitch but you weren’t even mean. You were so nice, so crazily good with your hips that his judgment may have been a little clouded. He didn’t expect the night to end this way, with your sex-crazed eyes peering down at him—and only for him to see at this moment.

“You’re so pretty, do you know that?” you hum, raking your other hand down his chest to tweak a nipple between your fingertips. He can feel you giggle when you hear him gasp at your gesture.

“N-No,” he exhales a deep breath of air when you lift your hips for him to see the flimsy strings of arousal that connect his cock to your folds. You’re so lewd, especially when you spread your lips to show your swollen pearl, hard and ready for attention.

You crawl over him, and it’s like a predator approaching a prey when your face rests right above his face, “You are. Prettiest boy. So cute. I would’ve never thought a boy like you had a cock so big.” To emphasise your point, your hand wraps around his length, squeezing hard enough in a way that Jungkook loves, and it only proves his point that you’re an absolute goddess.

“Fuck.” His eyes squeeze shut when you speed up your hands, and he wished he could see the way you were staring at him with a mischievous smirk.

“Faster? Harder?” you tease.

“Yes—no—wait, f-fuck, please,” Jungkook doesn’t even know what he’s pleading for but he feels his stomach clench rhythmically as his high approaches. When he opens his eyes, he almost regrets it because you’re so close and your hair is brushing against the peaks of his nipple. Your lips are swollen from the previous make-out session he was subjected to and he misses your mouth just by being reminded of it.

“So pretty,” you croon, pressing a kiss to his lips that’s so much softer compared to the way that your hands work aggressively on his cock, “So dirty.” You purr, pulling away with a smack of your lips.

He shakes his head, whining, “N-Not dirty,” Though he knows it’s a lie because he lets you have your way with him, completely at mercy by your hands.

You giggle, light and evil that Jungkook feels his cock throb even harder in your hand. You were a dream and there was no way that you were real,

“But you are,” you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, releasing it with a pop before you trail downwards, mouth hot on his skin until you reach his cock. His cock twitches in your hand in interest, especially when you allow a dollop of saliva to drop onto the tip, coating his length as he groans at the visual when he allows himself to look. “Only dirty boys let girls like me do this to them.” You sigh dreamily.

Jungkook’s mind is a mess of muddled thoughts that he can’t even muster a response, especially when you take his cock into the back of your throat like a pro, slobbering spit all over it without a care of how lewd it looks or sounds. In fact, Jungkook thanks the heavens above because he’s seconds away from cumming down your throat.

“I-I’m cumming—” he chokes.

You stare up at him with those bedroom eyes and Jungkook feels dizzy, his hand reaches to the back of your head as you bob your head faster around his cock, deepthroating him all the way until all he feels is the depth of your hot throat.

The visual and the auditory aspects of your slobber are what sends Jungkook over the edge. He cums with a loud moan, hips bucking up manically until he practically shoves his cock as far as he can down your throat. He doesn’t know where to look but he catches sight of the tears that threaten to spill out of your eyes and the spit that accumulates at the side of your mouth.

He cums so much and you take it all, mouth welcoming every spurt of his hot seed and Jungkook feels like he’s on cloud nine. Your tongue teases his slit to oversensitivity, and he winces at the way you continuously lap through his release, never relenting even when he whines and your eager mouth away from his flattening cock.

As Jungkook regains his breath as he blinks up at the ceiling, his head clearing up from his horny daze, his eyes droop to see your face and you do the next most obscene thing that has his flaccid cock jumping in interest.

You open your mouth to show him the cum he’s released, and swallow, making a show to moan.

Jungkook stares at you in awe, and he’s about to offer to reciprocate even if he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, but you push yourself off his lap and lean down to give him a messy kiss. He can taste himself but he can’t bring himself to care when you just made him cum harder than he’s ever done in his entire life.

“W-What about—?” Jungkook stutters, but you only shoot him a smile he’s sure gotten you out of trouble enough times.

“It’s okay. I liked sucking your cock,” you reach a hand down in between your legs, swirling your clit for good measure as your thighs twitch and Jungkook can only watch with a gaping mouth. You collect your essence with your fingers and spread the digits to show your strings of arousal, all before you bring it up to his lips, “Open wide, pretty boy.”

And all Jungkook can do is obey, sucking in your fingers as he whines at the heady taste of your pussy.

When you pull away and your body heat leaves him, Jungkook only then manages to shakily sit up; noticing the way you’re quick to slip on your panties and the clothes that were thrown in a haze.

He’s completely bare while you’re already picking up the last of your things as he stares at you with wide eyes. But his mind is still in his post-orgasm stupor when he hesitantly asks with reddened cheeks and a shy voice.

“C-Can I … c-can I get your number?” he asks as he attempts to hold eye contact with you.

You’re sweet and evil all at once, and you give him a flirty smile with a light giggle before you glance into the mirror as you use your thumb to fix the edges of your lipstick that was smeared all across your face.

“Ask around,” you wink at him, “Pretty sure Taehyung has it.”

Then you leave, and Jungkook’s face drops just a little. But God, were you perfect.

[scuttling]

Head Over Feet - Chapter 3

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Spencer Reid/Female Reader (Unrequited) Word Count: 4,597 Chapters: 3/? WIP (I think 4 but you know me!) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Unrequited love, Protected sex, Oral sex, Vaginal fingering, Rough sex, Friends with benefits, Praise kink, Daddy kink Summary: Falling in love with one of your two closest friends was never something you planned; it only makes sense that falling in love with the other would also come as a complete surprise. *Inspired by/in collaboration with @ssamorganhotchner. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Link to AO3 or read chapter 3 below! You make it to Aaron’s just a couple minutes after he does; he’s removed his jacket, shoes, and gun, and his collar is unbuttoned, tie loosened but not untied. You wrap your fingers in it the moment you see him, work open the knot, and he leans in to kiss you, guides you fully inside so he can close the door behind you.

You pull his tie off, unbutton his shirt, unclasp his belt, kissing all the while—deep, eager, breathless kisses; when you have no choice but to pull back for air, you’re both panting, fingers still working to get you out of your clothes.

“How was your day? Good?” he asks, chest heaving as he pulls your sweater over your head, and you nod, wet your lips.

“Good, yeah. Yours?” He nods too.

“Good.”

“That’s good.” You surge up for a kiss, unbutton his pants and untuck his shirt, pull it off and drop it onto the floor. His hands find your waist and he maneuvers you through the living room, toward the sofa; you pause, press a hand against it, lift your leg to unzip one boot, then the other, and kick them off and under the coffee table.

He guides you to his bedroom—you’re walking backward, and it’s almost as if he drags you, his hands holding you tightly, long legs leading the way. You trip, tip-toe your way there, know he’d never let you stumble or fall, and when you stop at the foot of the bed you reach down, pull down his zipper, push his pants to the floor. He takes your face in his hands, meets you for a hot, messy kiss, and then you pull his undershirt over his head, quickly wiggle out of your jeans.

“You are so gorgeous,” he breathes, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling you in for another deep, wet kiss. He tilts his head the other way, nose against your cheek, tongue in your mouth, gripping you hard, and you moan into the kiss; you’re a little surprised at how that simple gesture, the hand on the nape of your neck, makes you feel wild and out of control. “Hmm. Do you like that?” he asks softly in your ear, squeezing his fingers, and you lick your lips, nod.

“Yeah. You can be a little rough; I like rough.” He pulls back to make eye contact, holds your gaze for a moment, and then unhooks your bra with the hand not on your neck, guides it off. Still looking into your eyes—your breath comes quick from arousal, not exertion—he slides your panties down, and then he moves both hands to your ass, lifts you up, and deposits you on the bed; you’re sitting up, but he pushes your arms so you’ll lay flat, holds you there a moment, and you moan again. Jesus.

“Can I eat your pussy?” he asks, low, leaning in to mouth at your throat, and you grip his shoulders, gasping softly when he nips at your neck.

“Fuck. Yes.” He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, kneels on the ground, and opens your thighs with strong hands, licks over you slowly with a flat tongue. “Mmm. Oh my god.”

Broad swipes turn to targeted slips of tongue between your lips, quick flicks over your clit, and when he presses closer you run your hand fondly over his head, grip his hair roughly at the roots. He groans against your skin, sucks hard at your clit, and brings his hands up to squeeze your breasts, and you can’t help rocking up against his face, whining and moaning and begging for release.

“Please, Aaron. I want to come for you.” He looks up at you, gliding his mouth over your soaked folds, and takes back a hand, slides one finger inside you and then curls his tongue around it. “Oh, yes, please. Yes.” Another thick finger pushes in, presses up, pumps quickly, and you tense, arch off the bed, a string of whimpers falling from your lips as you come.

“So good, sweetheart,” he breathes, and he lifts you and guides you up the bed, so your head rests against the pillows. Your chest is heaving, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, and he lays on top of you, moves his mouth to yours, gets you to open it for a soft, wet kiss. “Suck my fingers, baby.” He presses them into your mouth, and you hold his hand, suck them hard and messy until he pulls them out, kisses you again. “I’m going to get a condom, I’ll be right back. Just a second.” You nod, let your head fall lazily back against the pillows, and he comes back, pushes his boxers down, and climbs over you.

“Let me?” He hands you the packet, watches you carefully tear it open, slip it over him, and you run your hands along his body, lean up for kisses until he guides you back and opens your legs wider with his knees.

The second he’s inside you, you both grab at each other, your hands on his back and one of his on your face while the other presses against the bed for support. He fucks harder, faster than the first time, and you eagerly match his pace, slide your hands down to dig your fingertips into his ass.

“Oh, fuck. Aaron,” you pant, and he brushes his fingers over your lips, then moves that hand to the bed as well, so he can press deeper. You hitch your legs up high, squeeze them against his hips, hold on to his ass as he fills you so completely it’s almost too much. “Yeah, fuck me. Oh, god.”

“Yeah, just like that. There’s my good girl.” You whimper, and he pounds his hips against yours, lowers himself down to his elbows and slips an arm behind your shoulders, holds you close like an embrace, kisses you breathless.

It doesn’t take long for you to come, not with his body pressed to yours, his mouth on yours, his cock so thick and so deep inside you; you mumble his name, Aaron and Hotch like your brain can’t keep up, and then he comes too, brings a hand to your cheek and just stares into your eyes while he frantically thrusts, then slows, then stops.

You sigh, bring your hands up, one on his wrist where he cradles your face, the other brushing through his hair; he shifts off of you, to the side, but you just hold each other for a moment, catching your breath, kissing softly.

Eventually he leaves to dispose of the condom, comes back and pulls you against his chest; you slip your legs between his, run your hand up and down his arm.

“So what did he do?” he asks after a couple of minutes, his voice a little rough, and you tilt your head to look up at him.

“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact.

“What did Reid do? To get you so worked up?” You feel a hot rush of shame, press your cheek against his chest because you can’t bear to look at him.

“He said he loves her. That he’s waiting for the right moment to tell her.” He hums, just a thoughtful sound, no judgement, and you shift up, rest a hand on his cheek so he’ll look at you. Your own idiocy aside, he needs to see you say this. “But I thought about you all day. I couldn’t get you out of my mind, and that had nothing to do with him—nothing.” He looks you over like he can’t decide if you’re just saying it, or if it’s true, and you brush your lips softly over his, put as much feeling as you can into the gentle touch.

He closes his eyes, exhales, brings you close for another series of tender kisses, then punctuates them with a press of lips to your forehead.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks, and then he smiles softly, and you kiss him again and dangle over the edge of the bed, grab your phone out of your pocket, and cuddle close to look over some menus.

You opt for Lebanese, eat way too much baba ganoush, and lay your head on his lap and read while he watches the news. About a month later, you wake up at Aaron’s after yet another night spent in his bed—your twelfth consecutive night together at one of your apartments. You leave early, head home to shower and change, only grumbling a little about how you won’t have time to stop for coffee; when you get to the office, there’s a coffee cup with a stopper in it sitting on your desk, and you smile, pluck the stopper out and take a sip. It’s a perfect latte, still piping hot, and it makes your chest warm in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature.

“Secret admirer?” JJ asks, walking down from her office. “I saw it there when I came in but didn’t see who left it.”

“It was just Hotch,” you say, but just Hotch doesn’t really mean what it used to. He’s been your friend for a while, that’s not a secret, even though your friends with benefits thing kind of is—you don’t actively hide anything from anyone, but neither of you have felt the need to clue anyone in—but you can feel yourself becoming a little more… possessive, of him. It’s ridiculous: just because you’re sleeping with him doesn’t mean he’s yours, or that he owes you anything, you know that, but you’re more aware than ever of when someone pays a little too much attention to him.

It’s painfully obvious when you are in Charlotte later that week, working out of the FBI field office there; it’s your second day on the case, and one of the agents assisting you flirts with him in the breakroom. Openly.

“The coffee here is horrible,” she begins, standing next to him at the coffee maker as he waits for a fresh pot. You came in for a refill too, but he beat you to it, and then she showed up and squirmed her way in between you as if you weren’t literally in the middle of a conversation. “If you want, I can take you to my favorite cafe across the street. They grind the beans every half hour, so it’s always very fresh.” She’s turned toward Aaron, can’t see you, so you roll your eyes; he catches it, tries to hide a smile, but the agent thinks it’s for her. “Is that a yes, Agent Hotchner?” She lays a hand on his arm, but he clears his throat and he takes a half step back, politely and effectively removing it.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m spoken for.” The woman turns to look at you—she’s clearly unhappy about being turned down, more so since you’re standing just inches away—and you smile your polite, fake, public servant smile until she takes the hint and leaves the break room. You move closer to Aaron like you were before she arrived, your arms crossed in irritation, and he pours you a cup of coffee, hands it to you, leans in to whisper in your ear. “Play nice, kitty.”

His words send heat throughout your body, and when he pulls back you just stare at him for a second. If you weren’t so exposed, you’d put down the coffee, grab him by his tie, and kiss him until you’re both stupid, but there are agents walking back and forth past the windows, the open door, so all you can do is look at him. You make it count, make sure to tell him with your eyes that you cannot wait to get him to get him naked; it must be effective, because he wets his lips, flicks his gaze over your body. It’s only when someone clears their throat in the doorway that you look away from each other, and even then it takes a moment.

“Hey you two,” Emily says, hands on the doorframe. “We’ve got a witness that just came forward, Morgan’s going to take him into interrogation now. You probably want to come see this.” Naturally, the witness only further complicates your investigation; you’re all glad your killer takes his time choosing a new victim, because it buys you a little more time, and you have a solid profile by the next morning. You split up to canvass the neighborhoods, to go door to door asking if anyone knows a man who fits your profile—you’re partnered with Spencer, who seems more anxious than usual, and that’s kind of saying something.

“Are you doing alright?” you ask him as you walk up to a red brick house, knock on the front door. He presses his lips together, nods, hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you?” You look over at him, raise an eyebrow, and he rocks a little on his heels. “You’ve cancelled the last couple of movie nights; we haven’t spoken much.” You knock on the door again, but there’s still no answer.

“I’ve been busy; you’ve been busy too, you know how it is.” You gesture to the next house, pull out your phone to jot down this house number so you don’t forget it and head down the sidewalk. “How are things with Chelsea?” He hums noncommittally, and you shove him lightly with your shoulder. “Come on, it’s okay. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.” It hasn’t been exactly easy, the last month—hearing how close the two of them have grown, how he told her he loves her and she said it back, how he has a drawer at her apartment—but it’s been easier. (Aaron doesn’t have a drawer at yours, you think absently, hasn’t asked for one, but you figure that’s by design; it’s a good reminder of what your relationship is, and isn’t.)

“They’re good. She gets a little frustrated when I’m gone for a while, when I have to cancel plans.”

“Most people are like that; they don’t live the life, so they don’t really get it. That’s normal,” you assure him. You’re a little surprised that it comes so easily, just like it would have before your big confession. He takes the lead this time, opens the screen door of a light blue bungalow and knocks three times.

“Is that how your… boyfriend is?” You bring your hand up to your face like a visor, peer in through the small windows on either side of the door, avoid eye contact.

“He understands,” is all you say. It’s too complicated to try to explain your relationship with Aaron, and you’re both comfortable with how it is now, not exactly secret but not exactly public; you don’t want to jeopardize it any way. “And she might, too, eventually. Just give it time.” You pull back, smile softly. “Looks like no one’s home. Why did we decide to canvass at one o’clock on a Wednesday?” Spencer shrugs.

“Because Hotch said.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m going to text that dummy; you drive.” You hand him the keys, slide into your seat and buckle up, then tug your phone out of your pocket.

Canvassing was a bust—no one’s home. Whose bright idea was that again?

Excuse me? You grin, look out the window so Spencer won’t see it.

I think you may be getting past your prime. Time for a younger man to take your place?

You better watch your mouth, baby.

Or what, daddy?

You send it before you even realize what you said; it just sort of came out. The next several minutes pass by agonizingly slowly, and you’re about to send a panicked text, either backtracking or trying to play it off as a joke, when he replies.

You’ll just have to wait and see. Come back to the office. I’ll give you new instructions.

On the way.

Good girl. You almost whimper. He knows how those words affect you—torrential downpour in your panties—and he knows you’re in the car with Spencer. He’s playing a very naughty game, one you desperately want to participate in. You start to type...

“What did he say?” ...and then you drop your phone on your foot, turn to Spencer with a questioning frown.

“Hmm?”

“What did Hotch say? When you told him we didn’t have any luck.” You reach down to pick up your phone, and your seat belt tightens, restricting your movement. You huff, sit back in your seat.

“Uh. He said to head back to the office and he’d figure out something for us to do.” Spencer nods, and you blow out a breath, lean your head against the headrest and close your eyes.

Thankfully, the ride back to the office is short, and the two of you head for the room the team is set up in. Aaron stands when you enter, gives you a brief once over, and then rattles off new details the other groups have learned, gives you new assignments. Spencer leaves to meet up with JJ and Derek, but you hang back when Aaron softly says your name.

“Your text,” he begins carefully, and you take a deep breath. “What you called me. Is it okay if we continue that?”

“Yeah, it’s okay with me; more than. Is it okay with you?” He nods, moves a little closer; he glances up, like he’s looking toward the door behind you, then slides his hand to cover the back of your neck, squeezes it.

“It’s okay with me; more than. Be careful,” he murmurs, and then he releases you and you swallow hard, get back to your assignments.

The unsub is tracked, cornered, captured by nightfall, and you fly home despite the late hour. Everyone grumbles on the flight, about wanting to sleep in their own beds, or take a hot shower with better water pressure, but all you can think of is taking off Aaron’s clothes, maybe getting on your knees for him.

When you get back to the parking garage, you head for your car, but Aaron stops you with a hand on your arm. “Just come with me,” he says—he’s not asking, and you’re not about to argue. If anyone finds it strange that you leave with him, they don’t mention it, don’t even throw you a second glance.

You try to behave on the drive back to your place, but it’s so difficult. You squeeze his thighs when he comes to a stop at traffic lights, loosen his tie, run your fingers through his hair; he is just as turned on as you are, which is saying something, considering you’ve been nearly constantly horny since he called you kitty yesterday. He parks in your designated spot, turns off the car, and you release your seat belt, all but pounce on him. You push your hand past the open collar of his shirt, kiss his throat, curl your tongue around his ear, and he puts his hands on your face, kisses your mouth hard, then pulls you back.

“Inside; I need to fuck you.”

Yeah, you’re not going to argue with that either.

You get out of the car, try to help him with your bags, though he won’t let you; you fumble with the keys in the locks, you’re that turned on, but once you get upstairs, get the door to your apartment open, you’re both desperate again, pulling each other’s clothing off, kissing rough and deep. Shoes, socks, pants, and underwear are the first things to go, quickly removed, leaving you in a t-shirt and bra; you take Aaron’s dress shirt off, get him down to just the undershirt, but when you work your hands up his body he kisses you breathless, takes a step back.

“Stay there, right there; just like that,” he rasps, and you don’t move, just wait for him to walk to your bedroom, grab a condom, stand in front of you again. He says nothing, just looks you over, your heaving chest, wide eyes, spit slicked lips, and he rolls the condom on, walks you back against the wall; you gasp when you’re pressed against it, and he leans in, kisses your neck, nips at your jaw.

You moan softly, tip your head so he can reach more of your throat; one of his big hands comes down to rest on your pussy, rubbing easily, and then he pushes two fingers inside like it’s nothing. You’re already ready, so ready, and you wrap a hand around the back of his head, scratch over his scalp, whimper while he pumps his fingers a few more times before withdrawing them.

He wipes his fingers on his shirt, gets his hands under your thighs, and boosts you up, back against the wall, legs on either side of his waist. “Aaron, fuck,” you gasp, pushing up his shirt and wrapping your arms around his back, and he presses inside you, leans in for a messy, eager kiss and groans against your mouth.

“Hold on tight, kitten; I’m going to be rough,” he pants, lips hovering over yours, and you grip him, digging in with your nails. They aren’t long, or very sharp, but he loves when they scrape down his back as he fucks you into the mattress; you can’t imagine this will be any different. “That’s it; just let me use you, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you breathe, and he starts thrusting, pinning you up against the wall. You can feel his muscles flex beneath your hands, and he kisses and bites at your throat as his hips pump against yours; it’s almost overwhelming, and you’d close your eyes if he didn’t look so incredibly sexy, determined, slamming his cock into you, banging your body against the wall. “Oh, fuck.”

“Take it all like a good girl, like daddy’s good girl,” he says, eyes on yours, and he lifts one of your legs, swings it over his forearm so you’re spread further, so he can pound deeper inside you. All you can do is clutch him, try your best to bounce into his thrusts, and moan, and when he comes you move a hand to his hair, grab it roughly, grind down against him. “Oh, that’s it. God.” He tips his head back, exhales long and slow, and you lick your lips, keep moving until he tells you to stop.

He sets you on your feet, pulls out carefully and throws the condom in the trash, then crowds you up against the wall, wraps his hand around the back of your neck, kisses you deep and dirty and messy, lots of tongue and the occasional rough press of his teeth against your bottom lip. He pulls back, looks down at you, squeezes your neck, and you whimper.

“Daddy?”

“What is it?” You squirm a little; there’s no way he forgot, didn’t realize you didn’t get off. He’s always been very attentive, very good at making sure you’re satisfied. You wet your lips.

“I want to come.” He hums, takes his other hand and rubs it over your pussy, and you buck forward, whimper again.

“Can you think of a better way to ask for that, baby?” You move your hands over his back again, beneath his shirt, look up at him with soft, sensitive eyes.

“Can I please come, please?” It takes a moment, but he nods, moves his fingers to your clit and rubs them quickly, so quickly it’s dizzying. You moan, cling to him, and he leans close, presses his forehead to yours, looks down at you while he takes you apart with just his fingertips. “Oh, yes. Oh, fuck.”

“You like that, kitten? Then come for me.” You want to, so badly, you murmur it into the space between your mouths; when you finally climax, you whine, hold on to him, nearly go weak in the knees, and he lifts you up again and carries you to the bedroom, lays you gently back on the bed.

He moves toward you, and you curl yourself around him, hold him close; you wind up on your sides, one of your legs between his and the other slung over his waist, and he murmurs praise into your ear, pretty and perfect and so sweet and good. You pull his shirt over his head, and he removes yours, your bra, and you just lay there and hold each other, kiss, content.

Kissing turns to nibbling your throat again, and you wrap an arm around his shoulders, press a hand against his chest, moan softly while he mouths at your sensitive skin. Your hips move, you can’t help it, and then he’s hard against you, and you all but beg him to push inside.

“We’re good, I’m good,” you breathe, because you didn’t think to grab a condom and you don’t want to separate now, not when the moment is so thick and heavy and sultry, when you are well and truly wrapped up in each other. “I’m haven’t had sex with anyone else; have you?”

“No, it's just you. It’s just you.” He weaves a hand into your hair, pulls you closer for deep, slow kisses, and presses into you; his free hand resets on your hip, splays across it, broad and warm, and you rock together, kissing and panting, your hands moving over skin, clinging desperately to each other in a way that is so different but just as passionate as before.

“Aaron.” He pulls back, looks at you, squeezes your thigh, and says your name; he repeats it while you come, and you repeat his as he kisses your throat, hugs you close, and eventually spills inside you.

“You’re so incredible,” he says with a soft kiss, and you pull him closer, hug him tightly with your whole body, kiss his hair.

“You’re perfect. Addicting,” you say with a soft laugh, and he smiles, catches your mouth in a kiss.

You don’t want to separate any more than you did before, but you have to use the bathroom, and you could both use some water, so you get cleaned up together and then you stay in the bathroom while he heads for the kitchen. You throw on your robe, meet him out there, drink the better part of his glass of water; a knock on the door startles you both, and he walks over to where his clothes lay on the floor, pulls on his boxers.

“Who could that be this late?” he asks, and you shrug; you certainly weren’t expecting anyone at this hour, and definitely not with Aaron here. You walk toward the door, look out the peephole, take a deep breath and turn back to face him.

“It’s Spencer.”

“I’ll go in the bedroom,” he says, and you frown, but nod, give him one more kiss before he goes. You unlock the door and swing it open slightly, take in Spencer’s disheveled appearance, his teary eyes.

“Hey, what’s going on? It’s late.” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair.

“Chelsea broke up with me. We were supposed to go to a gallery opening for her friend tonight, and I missed it because we got back so late. She was upset, and we both said things, and she broke it off.” He moves forward, and you take a step back, which brings you both inside the apartment. He swallows, leans in and wraps his arms around you. “I didn’t know where else to go.” Taglist 🤍: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream @unicornprancing

[clouds-rambles]

the diluc zhongli childe and xiao where the reader gets a coma is really good ! could i request one for venti please (sorry for bad english it is not my first language)

Of course! The hurt/comfort/angst I’ve been feeding the tag recently is great :)

Pairings; Venti x reader

Warning(s); hurt/comfort, slight wound description

Keep reading under the cut!

The day had started off perfectly normally. You pushed Venti out of bed to do his chores for the day and you got ready for a nice breakfast. Perfectly normal.

Venti eventually does get out of bed and goes into the town centre to get ingredients for dinner and you get ready to go out into the forest to hunt some boar

Though as much as your perfectly normal day goes you hadn’t excepted to quite literally stumble into a hilichurl camp. Which would have not been a real situation if you hadn’t used all your arrows and didn’t decide to leave your sword at home 

In all seriousness you had given the hilichurls a good fight until one managed to land five consecutive hits on you, each more painful than the last

So here you are now, laying on the road gulping in as much air as you can trying to ignore the pain of what you can only presume to be multiple broken ribs and bones. 

You manage to stay conscious for a lot longer than you would have expected, so much so that you finally passed out after you had been found

You’re taken to the cathedral and if he had sensed something amiss Venti is already stood at the entrance waiting. 

When he originally saw you, limp in the knights arms, he had guessed you dead. So much so that he practically stood planted at the entrance of the Cathedral where he was waiting for you prior

If it weren’t for Barbara standing infront of the archon and waving to get his attention the likelyhood of him just standing there forever zoned out with overthinking thoughts was very high

“[name] seems to be in a coma, they should spend at least three nights here before the sisters and I can set them up in their bedroom” Barbara explains to Venti who nods along “If you could get their room in order for some medical equipment that would be much appreciated” 

And that he does. The first two days of your sleep Venti fusses about the house, mainly to keep himself entertained and to stop his thoughts turning darker than they should.

The third day you come home and are set up in your bed. Despite the fact Venti technically doesn’t need sleep he finds himself missing the simple things like being able to snuggle against you, and the way your hair smells of your shampoos, the way you let him sleep against your chest 

Venti finds himself stuck in a fit of longing. More often then not he won’t even sit in the seat situated at your bedside, he’ll float about the room reacquainting himself with everything you have about your room. He wouldn’t call it nosing about, mainly because he’s seen everything in your room before. Not much is new to him

Apart from this box that sits at the bottom of your wardrobe, not hidden from view, Venti wonders why he hadn’t noticed such a thing before. He opens the box and is greeted with random memorabilia and gifts he’s given you

Venti is never one to cry much, considering his vast history. Grief is something that a god can’t really afford to be stricken by often. But Venti finds himself crying over your various items that he hadn’t really put much thought into

He promises himself that the moment you wake up he’s going to find every way to appreciate your presence. Not like he didn’t already do enough

Two months pass Venti slowly, a sister of the Cathedral appears once a day to make sure you’re stable, and also in addition to make sure that Venti has been eating, no matter how much he doesn’t actually need to eat. Keeping up appearances and all that

Venti has found himself cleaning every nook and crevice of the house. He wants to be close to you in case you suddenly wake but loaths the idea of being alone in his thoughts for hours on end

At some point during the two months Diluc finds himself visiting Venti on the count of being mildly concerned that he hadn’t seen the archon in so long. 

Venti laughs at Dilucs expense and makes jokes much like normal. But the yearning and broken look in Venti’s eyes don’t distract the tavern owner for long. He doesn’t mention it though

You wake in the middle of the day to light blinding into your room. You notice the cleanliness of your surroundings, you don’t remember cleaning before you went hunting

Oh

Everything just piles onto you the memory of laying on the ground, the knight. He must have bought you back

You hear a humming from downstairs, it’s distinctively Venti’s. You’d know the hums of his voice anywhere. Though his tune seems more melancholy than normal. How long had you been out of it for?

You try to move out of bed but you’re greeted by pains of various magnitude through your body. The most painful being your arm which you note is in a sling. You can only guess that, for however long you’ve been out for, your arm has taken the longest to heal

“Venti” you call out with a hoarse voice. Said archons hums stop and you hear him running up the stairs and bursting into your room 

“You’re awake!” he exclaims kissing your face “I’ve missed you so much [name]” he adds with a grin and a tight, yet careful, hug

[zennryu]

Speak my name — Xiao x F!reader

"Oh god..." you mumble hastily under your breath as you were currently surrounded by probably more than 15 hilichurls and 3 mitachurls. You chuckle nervously as you position your stance with your sword out ready to attack.

"How did I even get in this situation.." You swung your sword consecutively as you defended yourself against all the puny creatures surrounding you.

Just as you thought you were finished fending them all off, enemy reinforcements arrived~ Seeing the new batch of enemies approaching you, you rested your palms on your knees to catch your breath and felt the gush of tiredness wash over you.

"Fuck these bitches, I'm beat.." you cursed them under your breath, feeling as if your arm would pull off in another swing of your sword.

Just then, a sudden flash of green made all those bitches fall on the floor defeated. With a smirk resting on your features, you approached the one responsible for taking out all the hilichurls.

"Xiaoo~" you called out in a sing-song tone as you giddily approached him. He, however, only shot you a glare. "What did I say about calling me if you need help?" He said with a soft flick on your forehead. You rubbed the spot he flicked on your forehead dramatically. "Well you helped anyway~"

You've been a traveler here in Liyue for about almost a year now and you were definitely an inquisitve one. You loved the joy of learning and discovering new things. Contrary to that, you weren't the biggest fan of fighting. Even if it's something most traveler's can't avoid. You find yourself caught up in a lot of trouble.

Regardles of that, you never really seeked help either. Maybe it was the thought of burdening someone or maybe the thought of wanting to prove you can do things yourself that hindered you. Despite that, Xiao was still there to help you. Every. Single. Time. How he knew you were in trouble remains a mystery to even yourself. The amount of time Xiao has saved you the past year definitely brought you two a lot closer.

"Hey human, are you hurt anywhere..?" He asked with genuine concern dripping through his tone not before he furrowed his brows at your reply. "I'm fine!" You said with a big smile as if you weren't about to be used as hilichurl sacrifice earlier.

Xiao, being the sly adeptus he is, saw through that lie and noticed the bruise on your leg. He shot you a glare before wordlessly carrying you bridal style. "X-xiao!?" Ignoring you, he brought you two to the inn and sat you down on the edge of one of the beds.

He grabbed a first-aid kit and kneeled down on the floor to treat the wound on your leg. The small blush didn't come unnoticed by you as he focused on treating your wound. You couldn't help but smile softly at how gentle he was taking care of you. Once he was done he ordered you to lay back down on the bed and rest.

"Y/n," he said sternly. "call me if you need help alright?" He asked, almost begged at this point as he patted your head slightly before going off again to let you have your rest.

─── ∙ ~εïз~ ∙ ───

Now, Xiao was literally running, dashing, or whatever was the fastest way to get to you. Man was literally in Mondstadt when he was definitely not dragged by Zhongli to visit Venti until he heard the soft voice speak his name and he almost immediately recognized whose voice it was.

As he was heading over to you, his heart was pounding out of his chest, worry washing over him. How serious was the situation you were in for you to actually call his name this time? He was ready to face any situation. A slime pack? A hilichurl attack? He was prepared for it all. Which was why he was completely baffled when the situation in front of him right now was something he wasn't expecting.

He was faced with your sleeping state, murmuring his name with a giddy smile on your face. "Xiao...." you mumbled and the said male took a deep breath as the red hue quickly spreading across his cheeks wasn't helping at all. "I'm here." He said sternly in an attempt to compose himself.

"Xiao~" you cooed as you were shivering quite a bit. Xiao looked up the ceiling while closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself from the giddy smile forming on his lips and the decision he was about to make.

He walked over to your tranquil state and sat beside you on the bed hesitantly wrapping an arm over you and bringing your head over to his chest and he flushed seeing you cozy up under his touch.

"mmm...I...love you.." you slurred out. Still in a deep sleep, you were unaware about the short circuit the went off inside Xiao's mind at your words. I kid you not, man was literally a blushing mess as he continued to play with your hair gently.

"I love you too.."

[curiousconch]

Chase You/Chase Me (Pt. 6)

Part 6: Something About You and I

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Alex and Gabe find themselves deeply encumbered by the Marcus Sharpe case, but when Gabe mistakes Alex's night out, the crack in his wall completely unravel.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 2.2k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (18+) / 🍋 MINORS DNI.

Author's Notes: This is completely inspired by Ben Platt's version of the underrated Lady Gaga classic song You and I.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

Two weeks after the conference, Los Angeles

Alex is just about sick of jet-setting across the country, ready to swear off airplanes for the rest of her life.

The Marcus Sharpe case seemed to take up 90 percent of Alex's life in the present. As two powerhouse lawyers, she and Gabe had no time to deal with what happened between them in Boston. Alex had her competition, Gabe has his senior partnership. All the history digging left that unchanged.

So there she sat on the couch of her five-star hotel room, hair wet from the shower. As she continued her routine, she pondered about how strange her life had become. Two consecutive nights of clandestine proposals, both of which she turned down.

First, with Tyler and his PI friend, Will. Then it was Marcus.

Tonight, Alex dropped by their client's new condo to fill him in on what they just discovered. Marcus, much to her surprise, had subtly hinted he wanted to "feel connected to someone".

That must be the worst pickup line Alex heard in her life, but hell, who'd turn down a chance with celebrity?

Turns out, she would.

What has Gabriel Ricci done to me? So here she was, literally shirtless and sex-less. She shook her head and shook off the glowing warmth from within when her thoughts drifted to Gabe. But before she went deep, Alex relinquished her phone to distract herself, once again reading the message Will had sent her.

It's amazing what you can unearth from a little digging.

She had fought against the rest of the senior associates on bringing what they just discovered to Marcus, but he was off the grid since this morning.

Fuck it, I'll leave a voice message then call it a night.

Before Alex can dial his number, she heard a knock on her hotel room door. Startled, she tightened the bath robe she was wearing, strode to the entryway and opened her door.

Her jaw fell to the floor when she saw a disheveled Gabe leaning on her threshold. Alex was just about to be delighted, when an uncertainty in his eyes stopped her.

Gabe was about to say something, until his eyes traveled from her face down to her bathrobe-clad body. Alex had never seen him more dumbfounded.

She suddenly felt more naked than she actually was, and he was beginning to regret 'stumbling' his way to her room.

Alex finally managed to find her voice, crossing her arms across her chest. "What are you doing at my hotel room door, Ricci?"

"I just wanted to catch you before you drifted off, I know I've been unreachable," he shifted, shoving his hands to his pockets. "Didn't know you were in this state of... undress."

She merely scoffed, intending to conceal her delight. Did he just intentionally seek her out?

"Why don't you come in? Let's catch up," Alex dared.

Before Gabe can wonder what the hell he was doing, he nodded. He went in as Alex stepped aside, closing the door behind her. He watched intently as she padded barefoot to a mini fridge. "Drinks?"

"Anything you can offer," he replied passively, as he looked around the warmly-lit room, observing how neat things seem to be. The only sign of disturbance was the unpacked suitcase sprawled on the floor, a tablet and her phone laying side by side on a nearby desk.

He felt jittery. Somehow, he knew this is where the line ends, where black and white can turn gray at any moment. Yet like a moth to a flame, he couldn't resist her anymore.

"So?" she asked, leaning on a side table as Gabe took a swig of alcohol. "What did you find out?"

I found out that you met with that fireman again. He'd seen her in the bar the other night. He'd seen them leave together and it woke something primitively possessive in him. That's when he realized how deep he was into Alex Keating. He couldn't stand the thought of her being with someone else.

But like classic Gabe, he ran from it. He made up an excuse of digging evidence to keep himself distracted, to not talk to her until he'd been able to wrangle this unusual fit of jealousy. He wasn't successful, seeing how he ended up in front of her hotel room less than 24 hours later. He wanted to come clean. No more evading, Ricci.

Before he can even begin, her phone pinged. Gabe turned to look on impulse.

Enjoyed the other night. See you in New York? - Tyler.

Eight words that drove a wedge right through his heart. Eight words that made Gabe's stomach drop.

Alex caught him looking, caught his reaction even, evoking an amused smile from her. "This doesn't suit you," she said bluntly, sauntering closer.

"What doesn't suit me?" Gabe struggled to stand his ground, as she stood dangerously close, that intoxicating mixture of coffee and vanilla sending his senses to overdrive.

"Jealousy," she smirked, her palms landing on the lapels of his navy jacket. She looked up at him with a questioning look, asking for permission. When he nodded, one hand traveled upwards to land on his chiseled jaw. She tiptoed closer, their lips a mere inch apart. "You don't need to, Gabe. I only have my eyes on you now," she whispered, her voice tender in a way he'd never heard of until now.

It was all it took to make him abandon the remainder of his resistance.

When their lips finally crashed, it was fireworks. The hunger that has built up from months of pining exploded into unrestrained desire.

Gabe wrapped his arms around her waist as his mouth savored the taste of her. He yearned for more.

Sensing his blooming desire, she tilted her head, giving him more access, their bodies bumping on furniture as they got more enraptured with each other. In between the frenzy of their hands, she managed to pull off his jacket and loosened his tie. He assisted her as she unbuttoned his shirt, her robe slowly slipping off her.

As their tongues danced, they walked a path of discarded clothes to the foot of her bed. They stumbled on the soft mattress right before Gabe reluctantly pulled back.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked, cupping her chin in his hand.

"I've never been more sure," she replied.

She kissed him with passion, straddling him as her hands explored him all over. Gabe pulled the string of her robe breaking her free of her only cover. He laid back and admired Alex's figure, committing every curve, every mole, ever flaw to memory. He wanted to remember.

"Like what you see?" she smirked, sitting up, making work of his boxers.

"Yes, very," he growled.

She quirked a brow, eyes widening as she exposed his erection. "You're not so bad yourself," she purred, her head diving to take him in her lips.

Gabe gasped and groaned as Alex's head bobbed up and down, alternating from sucking to licking. Her tongue and her hands has left him almost undone, driven him almost to the edge. But he wanted this to last, so had other things in mind.

"Alex, let me," he said hoarsely, making her look up. With one smooth move, he took over.

He was desperate to let himself go, but not before satisfying her. Not before assuring her that this wasn't all carnal. A woman like her deserved to know that this moment was far from a one time thing. That though he's cutting through their chase, he fully intended to make her stay.

For a long time, he wasn't willing to cross the line that separated lust and love. But for Alex, he's more than willing to make an exception. And he wanted to let her know.

He kissed her once again, intimately, hungrily, his hands exploring every part of her body that made her feel good. He kissed her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her neck. One palm cupped her breast, rolling her awoken peaks with his thumb. His mouth dipped into the valleys of her chest, before slowly traversing her smooth skin, worshipping them with his tongue, with his mouth.

"Oh, Gabe, yes.." His name dripping from her lips made him shiver, his fingers slowly tracing downwards to the depths between her legs. He found her wet and ready, affirming what she had just said, that she was only his.

"Condoms?"

"I'm on the pill," she whispered, parting her legs for him. He positioned himself in between her thighs, his throbbing shaft rubbing against hers.

When he entered, they both gasped.

She felt so tight. He felt so hard. And the pleasure just mounted from there on.

With each stride, she purred and moaned, her fingers entangled in his hair. Gabe groaned and shoved, slowly at first, trying to find a pace that made her want him more.

"Harder, please, Gabe," she begged, her hands finding their way on his back.

When he increased his rhythm, he felt her nails rake against his skin. Her pleas got more and more desperate for every inch of him. She wrapped her legs around his hips, allowing for him to angle himself and go deeper.

"Alex... you feel so good," Gabe uttered in between kisses, her slickness making him feel her desire for him all the more. He then felt him reach the limits of her depths, barely holding himself in.

But she beat him to it, screaming his name as her pleasure climaxed. The ripples of her ecstasy surrounded him wave after wave. Then fire pooled low in his abdomen as he finally let himself go.

Their connection pulsed until it ran dry, and Gabe collapsed beside her in satisfaction.

For they didn't know how long, they stayed still, savoring the bliss that they've just experienced.

Until Alex broke the silence. "That was..."

"Mind-blowing?" Gabe smiled.

Alex side eyed him, nudging him with her elbow. "Sure, we'll go with that," she winked.

Gabe chuckled, turning to her and finding her lips once more.

Alex had spent so many years sleeping around, but this with Gabe, she knew, was a game changer. She wasn't entirely sure what happens after. Usually, this was when she'll slip out and say thank you for the bang. But that doesn't seem to be an option now, leaving her no clue what to do.

As if reading her mind, Gabe reached for her hand, capturing her attention.

"You're thinking what to do, what this means," he didn't ask, merely stated.

She turned on her side and faced him, nodding.

"I don't know yet, Alex. Our jobs complicate things..." He continued, taking her in his arms. "Though I'm sure about this - we have something here. I've spent so many sleepless nights wondering how it felt to be with you. I came here to say that I'm done just thinking," he said, his lips brushing her fingertips. "I want you, Alex. But only if you want me too."

His words and his intense gaze made Alex's heart swell. Never had she felt so much for someone than she did for him. He was right, they're past wondering what this could become, what they could be.

So she gambled, all in, and told him the truth. "I want you too."

No words have made him happier. He pulled her close, feeling her warmth against him, restarting an exchange of fiery passion between them that would last all night, until it exhausted them both and put them in a euphoric slumber.

As night turned to morning, Alex was awoken by kisses on her shoulders.

She yawned, turning to face Gabe who have spooned against her. "Morning, your hotness," she stretched and kissed him on the cheek. She tried to get off the bed, but Gabe pulled her back to him.

"Stay in for a few more minutes, boss's orders," he mumbled against her neck.

"My boss is a pain in the ass, so I have to get dressed," she teased, breaking free from him and finally managing to sit up from the bed. Gabe stared at her gorgeous outline, the morning sun making her tanned skin glow all the more.

"I don't remember you complaining about it last night, in fact, you said you enjoyed it," Gabe's lips curled mockingly.

Alex rolled her eyes at the innuendo, before dipping down to kiss him. "You are insufferable, you know that?" He laughed, as she got off the bed and start to find her way through the mess they made.

"Speaking of work, I haven't told you what I've dug up," Gabe sat up, leaning his back against the headboard as he watched Alex strut around naked.

"And pray tell, what have got you so occupied for one whole freaking day?" Alex inquired.

He stood up, finding a towel to cover himself up. "I found who Aliana was dating."

"Peter Koenig, owner, CEO of Koenig Industries." Alex stopped and glanced at her phone, pulling up the police record and showed it to him. "The team agreed to let Marcus know, so I paid him a visit last night."

"You what?" Gabe was stunned, feeling undermined. He shoved himself around, collecting his clothes and putting them on one by one. "Why the hell would you do that without my permission?"

"Because you weren't available, need I remind you that you made yourself very scarce when we needed you?" Her tone was guarded, hoping to prevent the situation to escalate.

It was futile.

"That decision was meant to be made by me, not you," he asserted heavily, anger taking over. He took his jacket and made his way to her door. With one final frustrated glance, he went out and slammed the door behind him.

She crumbled into the floor, the afterglow of their passionate night shattered by his sudden departure.

Like a sobering rush of cold water, Alex was reminded why she never dated the men she slept with.

A/N 2: We're almost at the end, so thanks for your continued reading! Thoughts? I'd love to read them in your comments and reblogs! 💖

Tag list: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @latinagiraffe @sarcastic01lily   @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer @thegreentwin @mkatschoicesblog @made-of-roses @lillijill @kachrisberry @weaving-in-words @peonierose

@choicesficwriterscreations @lawsofattractionfanfiction

[yostresswritinggirl]

Antinomy

Part 1; establishing grounds. VIBE

"Do you know the spiritual meaning of 11? What about in numerology? You'll find it quite intriguing, funny even... until it starts making sense." You've witnessed and harnessed the way and days he had grown to be; this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers.

Pairing -> Childe x Harbinger!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 3277

Themes -> Friends to admirers, slow burn, mentor, fluffy, suddenly ANGST

Series -> #Sojourner Specials (600 Followers Event) Part 2

Warning -> Blood and injury, decent? amount

The biblical meaning of number 11 comes from one's understanding that it is associated with things that would be considered imperfect, a disorganization of systems, and the disorder or chaos of things. The 11 carries a vibrational frequency of balance. It represents male and female equality. It contains both sun energy and moon energy simultaneously yet holding them both in perspective separate-ness. Perfect balance.

act i. first sighting

The first you've heard and the first you've seen the likes of him was long before you were anyone important in the organizational structure of the Fatui. You were a simple agent making rounds around Snezhnaya's city borders, nothing more, nothing less.

During these parts by the winter forest of Morepesok where time seems slowed down as the snowflakes flutter without urgency, it reminds you of what home feels like, and you felt more free to delve into a sense of relaxation away from other chatters from your co-workers.

You were ready to lean on a tree and just dissociate from the world of stress you had put yourself into— and then you heard a distant cry, accompanied by the pants and howls of wolves. Your body immediately lunged forward, finding your ankles sinking deep into snow as you trudged through the terrain as fast as you can. A child, a literal child somewhere in the forest getting chased by wolves.

When you've arrived by the scene, you registered a tuff of orange hair almost topple you over as they smack into your body, a startled cry eliciting from them as you throw him behind you in quick succession, your polearm manifesting to throw off the wolves that had locked in on the sight of him, "Go! Get out of here!" You urged at the sound of his silence as you carefully swung the first hit on the lunging wolf, being a tad too late to hit it with the edge's blade only for it to be knocked to the side by the shaft. At the sight of the battle you finally relieved a sigh when you heard him and hope that he knows his way back. But your work was not cut yet, you thought as you realized how the pack of four now encircles you with hungry gazes and drooling jaws.

The moments after that was filled with song and dance as you fought hard to overcome the might of four ferocious beasts, the polearm swiftly twirling in your arms to counter attacks from all sides. You twist your arm behind, lodging the tip of your spear in the throat of the wolf before delivering a kick to the head of another one lunging from the front. You made quick work to disengage your spear from the dead wolf, but the two idle wolves had noticed this as they lunged in coordination.

Now bloodied and bruised, exhausted from fatigue and frostbite, your final wolf to slaughter was inches away from your face. Its jaw had locked around your weapon in muffled growls and you can only keep him there with your arms losing its strength. Your blood sprayed around the battlefield of once white snow as the third wolf's sharp canines had lodged itself around your leg before you killed it through a stab.

You humored yourself with a wry laugh at the thought that it would leave a pretty nasty scar. The amount of blood you lost is already taking its toll at your consciousness and the last thing you saw before you finally succumbed to oncoming death was the wolf's awaiting maw, and a prickle of ice.

You only wish then that the kid you saved, only a few years younger than you, had left the forest in safety.

act ii. second assignment

Zapolyarny Palace was a magnificent architecture that towered all other manmade structures in the nation of the Cryo Archon. Now you, the most recent addition to the Harbingers roams these hallways regularly with agents following your trail. Lady Columbina, the 10th Fatui Harbinger, wields a peculiar job within the ranks of the organization.

It was years after the incident in Morepesok on which you came out with a nasty scar on your leg, but a proud Cryo Vision stuck to the side of your torso. When you donned it after the Tsaritsa had called for your presence (she must have sensed the bestowal of the elements) and reported your rounds during that mission, the Cryo Archon's piercing gaze had softened in intensities that washed over your whole soul with the warmth you would not expect of her element. Ever since then she had regarded you with attention to spare, your potential and line of work exposed, and had you easily rising up the ranks at the guidance of the 9th. Despite the gruesome and painful trials you had to go through before you can proudly walk on your own.

The informant by your side had handed you a thick folder earlier and you had been pacing around the hallways the whole time you had been investigating the contents. Said agent feebly and awkwardly following you as if expecting you'd walk away or disregard him for his absence. It was stupid from a bystander's perspective, but you were too focused on work to worry about it.

Well, focused, because you were interrupted by the sounds of clashing and sparring by the quadrangle within the Palace. You stopped your pacing and look up to see a batch of agents training with a few skirmishers in routine. A majority of them easily getting body slammed to the dirt floor in martial combat, and some are working on weaponry. But at the very middle is where your eyes linger with a flash of familiarity—

A tussle of orange hair unhidden by the Fatui hood clashes with a giant of a man, weapons and Vision drawn at the sparring. The agent moves with quick succession, and you can see Pulcinella getting overpowered pretty quickly. As expected of his form, of course, but he still bit back with his delusion now equipped. Cheater, you scoffed to yourself, as the orange-head agent still managed his footing to strike consecutively at the bigger man.

You watched on for a little while longer as the orchestration of the match continued. Your observant eyes clearly noticing how the Harbinger could barely leave the area he had been standing on as he was barraged by blades from every direction, fully defensive. The match ended indefinitely when the Harbinger had noticed you, and quickly ended the match as an escape to his obvious downfall. "Halt," his voice reverberated from the sheer authority it brought and the agent stopped only a few centimeters from slicing the gloved hand in front of him, "We have a guest."

"Hardly," you scoffed at the end of your temporary entertainment as you sauntered over to the edge of the veranda, waving your hand dismissively at the training agents that had kneeled to greet you. With this they all went back to their training away from your side to give the privacy of a talk, except for one person. You can feel his intense stare even if it was hidden behind the standard protocol Fatui mask. You wondered if he had recognized you, "Pulcinella." You nodded.

"Columbina, it has been a while," he made a move to swipe the sweat at his forehead and you murmured an affirmation at his statement. It HAS been a while since you had lingered in the Palace, much less the country. As the head of the information brokers department of the Fatui, you're frequently found in missions beyond the headquarters where you soldier your subordinates in field missions. At this thought, you felt conscious at the fact that you still had your dancer outfit on.

To avert your embarrassment you shifted your attention to the agent with a tilt of your head. You swore you saw him gulp as subtly as he can. "This is Ajax," at the mention of his name, he had bowed his head, hand across his chest in greeting. "He has the potential."

Your mouth formed into an 'o' at the mention of the special word, eyes slightly widening at the intonation as you continued to look at Ajax. When he raised his head to meet yours once again, you found yourself averting in newfound fluster. "You mean to tell me..."

"Yes," the way you gingerly placed a hand to quietly hide the redness of your cheek had Ajax amused, the edge of his mask hiding the slight quirk of his lips. "The Assembly ceremony would be called upon soon."

act iii. 3 pm assembly

The 3 PM Assembly comes before the Dusk Convention which is not the current point of the information. You've only been in it once and it was in a different circumstance, yet your nerves still stayed the same, if not more perfectly hidden than the first occasion.

Ajax, now dubbed Tartaglia alias Childe, stood kneeling by the steps of Your Majesty's throne at the information of his ascension to the ranks of the Harbingers. He was the final piece to the puzzle, and his addition to the ranks meant multiple things. The start of the war against the divine, the Tsaritsa worded after Childe has received his Delusion from Pedrelino.

He almost seemed starstrucked- dazed after the chance meeting of finally seeing the great Tsaritsa face to face. You gulped as the words of the first continues upon mention of his new arc of training in honing his skills and exposure to the ways of the Harbingers. Next to you, in silent and slight comfort, Innamorata simply touched elbows with yours without sparing a glance as she stared straight on. You smiled at the gesture.

"During the phase of your training, you shall be commandered by the Harbinger that had come before you. And she will be your last test to show that you had earned your ascension," Childe followed the trail of Pedrelino's sight as he spun to watch the end of the line up of the Harbingers.

A figure layered with multiple chiffon and flowy cloths and yet seemingly underdressed in the winter nation steps on the red carpet of the throne room, a spear polearm manifesting as she twirls her hand to catch it mid-integration, the action suddenly producing a blast of icy wind enough to reach him and make him stumble.

Childe felt the tingle of excitement twitch his fingers at the apparent power difference. When they both finally made eye contact, masks off and irises laid bare, a petrifying glint of amusement lies within them both. The female offers a toothy grin as she lodges the spear's point into the ground, the metal clanging through the room in piercing reverbs.

"Meet Columbina, the 11th Harbinger, your last mentor."

act iv. counting crows

It had been a while, a very long while, since you had gone stationary in a nation. Much less Snezhnaya. While it is home the removal of your olden routine to put yourself in the shoes of a mentor had really been maddening you, more so with the inclusion of your line of work still in operation and a certain someone as your trainee until who knows how long.

Your brows furrowed as you watch the annoying caws of the crows overhead, four of the black birds making symphony as if to rejoice over your repeated victory. Underneath your thin shoe laid a gasping Childe who was just as irked at the piercing interaction.

You had just finished a 'spar' or what you could call an opportunity of ascension. When you explained to the newest addition as to how his true ascension works (which involves beating your mentor in a fair fight) he had been nothing but a thorn on your side with his repeated requests to spar. He was really, really adamant for a fight, something you had come to realize a day after he ascended to your care.

"Shoot them down," you ordered as the man finally got his grips enough to stand once again, his outfit filled with marks of dirt and obvious footprints from your numerous kicks to make him stay back. At the order he shoots you an amused grin, as if to say 'really?' but succumbed when you continued eye contact.

"Master Columbina," Childe started as his bow and arrow materialized. You knew full well just how inefficient he is when it comes to bows compared to other weapons, and you tasked him such challenge to use it more under your supervision, topping his oath to master it already. "Do you know what four crows mean? I'm not really adept with crowology but I'm pretty sure they have significance in numbers."

The first shot fires and kills one. The action had startled the other birds and they scrambled to flap away, but Childe was already materializing three new arrows to fire at once, this quirked your eyebrows in amusement. Something he noticed and smirked at, eyes still focused as he fires his shots- one missed. "Four crows may mean many things," you watched as he desperately chased the crow with a barrage of arrows and you had to stop yourself from laughing at his failed attempts, "It could mean birth of a male newborn, highly unlikely. Aaand, wealth and prosperity, and finally..."

His arrow finally pierced the poor vertebrate, an emphasized sigh of relief escaping his lips as he whips his head to look at you for affirmation that you had seen his victory. You gave an amused yet soft smile, his eyes twinkled in double-layered delight, "New beginnings."

act v. his siblings

Childe had a mentor once, who fuelled the flame of his reckless spirit through countless beatings and repeated dangerous encounters. When he was given an opportunity of once again being under an official mentor, with his newfound lust for battle, he was extremely ecstatic over the idea. But unfortunately, as he walks around with you through the familiar streets of Snezhnaya, it was not all fun and games as he'd expected it to be.

"You look so disappointed for someone who just received one million mora under their name." Appropriate to the occasion, you don now a traditional Snezhnayan winter attire yet with details that alerts everyone of the price of the genuine fur that's stitched on the edges of the lining. It was over the top since you had developed an immunity.

"I didn't expect being mentored to be a killing machine requires knowing about taxation and interest rates," was his childish grumble. Which received a frosty laugh from you. You had reiterated again and again just how powerful money is to a nation just as information, which Pedrelino and you operate in order. Thankfully Childe was ever so smart to pick things up easily (if it was viewed as a challenge) despite his early recruitment into the Fatui that surely would have hindered his education.

You opened your mouth to reiterate over the fact that perhaps his main concern would be in the issue of debt collection when a scream had resounded through the crowd, one of which belongs to someone Childe would recognize, you thought as you observed how he had perked up and looked around. When his eyes settled on a direction, you suddenly realized a crowd of five coming your way, you immediately took a step away as three younger figures latched onto him and started chatting him up like there's no tomorrow.

You hummed to yourself as you watched with hands intertwined behind your back. From what you can hear and gather, they were his siblings, all five crowds with one probably missing. One seemingly older to the 11th yet not donning the same striking orange hair spots you and offers a sorry smile at the inconvenience, observant, you thought as you flashed a polite smile too. He's probably Andrei, the one who's the same age as you, if you remembered his oversharing correctly.

"Big brother, please join us! We haven't seen you for so long, we're preparing a huge feast for mother and father's anniversary, it would be really good if you can attend!" Wow, these children are really good at bargaining. You can already see Childe's resolve crumbling the more they fluttered their eyelashes with such doe eyes.

Whether a plea for help or look for approval, his ocean orbs had found his way to you, begging that you be at least a considerate Harbinger to offer him this once in a lifetime break. You were about to open your mouth (to let him be, of course, you're not the heartless Harbinger everyone had generalized the ranks to be) when suddenly all six pair of eyes had fallen on you. It wasn't the same tantalizing or spine-wracking gaze the Tsaritsa holds, but the attention made you gulp either way.

"Hi," your voice reached a sudden meekness neither you nor Childe expected nor heard before.

And suddenly you found yourself around a table with plentiful dishes scattered all over it, your crowd of five (seven if you count you two) had turned to a staggering, solid 10 as the whole family had forced invited you into their abode to share the meal. Thanks to the nature of your work and training, your social skills commandered any suspicions or questions off easily, and you behaved just like a girlfriend meeting her boyfriend's family for the first time.

Childe watched as you clenched your jaw and offered a hooded, tilted glare when you met eyes. He gulped. That look looked very much like Scaramouche.

act vi. sixth nation

Childe barely knew the world beyond the frosted wasteland, past the outskirts of Snezhnaya. Yet from the stories his father had adopted to him ever since he was able to remember, he views the world outside with a sense of familiarity, longing and relieving satisfaction. It was such a pure look you felt like barfing from the intensity of the innocent aura it held in comparison to your line of work.

His eyes would then land on you where you once again don your master dancer outfit, yet unlike your homeland, this setting matched it better. The sun at Fontaine hits the golden sequins at a certain angle to make it glitter, and the thin white veil that hovers over the back of your hair flutters gently in the soft breeze that comes by. You'd look angelic if you wore more white, he bites back the words when you met his eyes.

His first look at your line of work and his first visitation outside of the nation. And into the land of entertainment. This was your main land of operation and the way you dwelled with the citizens brings about a sense of replicated home at the nostalgia. Many recognized you as a simple entertainer and many of the citizens look upon Childe with intrigue and wonder.

"Based on my network, this would be his last stop," you adjusted the bangles that holds on to the thin cloth that runs over your arm, "Again, we are here to observe and get information, not look for a fight."

"Yes, master." He grumbled flatly but his eyes were wide and wandering the marble walls and statues that littered the nation. He's distracted, just like a true child. "What's the name of that rogue vigilante again? The one that keeps busting down the doors of the Fatui headquarters everywhere."

You hum, hand wrapped around his wrist as you guide his distracted self through the crowd.

"Diluc Ragnvindr, and try to remember it this time please."

To be continued.

Accidentally posted so now it's a freakin two parter.

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @moaa @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

[paigelts05]

FNAF UCN - Preparations

https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/FNAF-UCN-Preparations-843083896

Published: May 24, 2020

Renegade File Server Location: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846005

I've been meaning to draw this for a while. It connects the two pieces together: "Into the warehouse" And "One of us, without a suit" (Same file server, pieces are consecutive) How does it connect them together? Well. It started with William instigating two separate events. William initially threatened Vincent Taylor telling him to go to the warehouse or he'll unleash his new literal assassin animatronics on his former colleagues (whom Vincent Taylor, aka TaylorTrap is now protecting). Then, William let someone working at the industrial estate who thought they saw a robotic rabbit carrying a person into the abandoned warehouse escape so Krasnyy would find out and head to the warehouse also. William critically injured Krasnyy and left him for dead. TaylorTrap found Krasnyy, and due to TaylorTrap not being able to leave, he had to take Krasnyy to the second warehouse with him under Williams threat. Krasnyy wakes up, and Taylor plans a huge lie and tells Krasnyy to play along. TaylorTrap not only lies his ass of with the whole fake hypnosis scheme, but reiterates parts of Williams deal that he made with him to the other animatronics, fronting it as an instruction to the animatronics where it's actually him addressing William Afton directly, hoping that the other animatronics know who William Afton is. The twist is that all the animatronics in the room were the ones who actually already knew who William Afton was (they were also threatened in similar ways, so all kept quiet and each group had the same idea that they were the only small group that knew the truth). The only animatronics that didn't know the truth were kept seperate from the others, so weren't present in the group of animatronics that they're preparing to face. This art and story fits between the two and is at the point when Krasnyy wakes up before TaylorTrap could go into the second warehouse, and where TaylorTrap is planning to lie/ tell half truths to a room full of posessed animatronics. This story starts just after the one set before it and ends immediately before the one set after. =°•.🌹Story 🌹.•°=

=°•.🌹.•°= "I'm sorry about this, b- hu?" TaylorTrap, also known as Vincent Taylor, but in the current predicament he was in it was more appropriate for him to go by TaylorTrap, was about to open the door that lead into the connecting warehouse - the one that Afton told him to go to or else - when he felt something moving in his arms. As he was carrying Krasnyy - who had been critically injured and was the reason why TaylorTrap couldn't destroy Afton when he had the chance - he assumed one thing and one thing only. "You're waking up. Good. Rather now than later," he said, looking down to face his former colleague who had only just now opened his eyes. "Where..... Am I?" Krasnyy was so quiet that it almost hurt to listen, but TaylorTrap heard, and he replied. "We're in a warehouse. We're - no - I got us into some deep shit -" "No. We. I know. Afton." TaylorTrap didn't want to make his former colleague feel responsible for getting into this mess, but knew that Krasnyy would be instant on splitting the blame for falling into this trap between them anyway, so he didn't argue back. Instead, Taylor continued, "Yeah. Afton. There are more people he trapped, but the ones that weren't his victims all seem to know that we're in a warehouse, but I don't think they've caught onto that Scraptrap is William yet." Krasnyy knew that by people, Taylor meant both animatronics, spirits, and some humans that were kidnapped in order to keep the posessed animatronics from running away. He knew because finding those people was what made Krasnyy come to the warehouse in the first place. "There are forty plus animatronics on the other side of that door, and I don't think they'd take kindly to either of us. You more than me, as at least I class as an animatronic. You're human, so they may not trust you. Or it may be the other way round. I don't know yet," As TaylorTrap spoke, he almost seemed scared, if not for his safety, but his former colleagues. "I think I've got something though," Krasnyy mumbled, looking at his wounds, "William attacked me, remember? With any luck, they'd recognise the wound, and be able to tell that I'm not a threat, but the other spring lock rabbit is." Krasnyy paused for a bit before continuing, "also, I'm posessed, so if I can fake being just Shaodw Freddy's.... Host.... Then maybe-" TaylorTrap cut off Krasnyy before he could finish what he was saying, "Afton wanted a phone guy, not a Shadow Freddy, but I think you're onto something. We need to lie." "That's a bit of a jump, but what do you have in mind," Krasnyy seemed a bit uncomfortable. Why did Afton want a phone guy? But seeing as TaylorTrap seemed almost like he was on a time limit, he didn't say anything else. "Well, I can't tell you that. I don't really even know, but I need you to be just as shocked as everyone else when I say it." TaylorTrap seemed to be thinking a lot about what his lie would be. He rummaged around in his lab coat pockets, and as his fingers closed around an antique pocket watch, he figured out exactly what his lie would be. He kept the watch in his pocket to keep it a secret, and then turned back to look at Krasnyy. "Can you stand?" TaylorTrap asked. "I think so..." "That's enough. Lean on me." Taylor placed Krasnyy on the ground, and the journalist clung to TaylorTrap's lab coat as he stabilised himself. Krasnyy was very shaky, but he could stand just enough in order to appear to be in a slightly better condition than what he really was. "Look, I got us into this mess, but I'll make sure you survive. Just stay quiet, look scared, and please roll with this." TaylorTrap looked at Krasnyy, who was only really standing through clinging onto his lab coat, "I know you're used to lying, so we should be fine." Krasnyy nodded, and looked at the door. The glass was too cloudy to see anything but the wires inside the glass, but the thought of over fourty animatronics on the other side was enough to help him pull a scared face. Taylor then looked back at the door, and pushed it open. As TaylorTrap ushered Krasnyy through the door into the second warehouse, he gritted his teeth and took a deep breath; he was ready to lie his ass off to everyone who would be waiting for him. =°•.🌹.•°=

[somanyerikas]

Nostalgia sells - or does it? About BBC’s rehiring of a previous showrunner for Doctor Who as a marketing strategy

All, right, this is the one where I deal with my issues about RTD’s rehiring from the standpoint of BBC’s business strategy . Brace for passive agression, swearwords, brief history of british television and numbers. So, so many numbers.

Allright, so I already wrote a post about my problem with RTD’s (re)hire from the creative standpoint (it’s here in case you’re interested), but hey, I can bitch about it all I want, but we all know what caused the BBC to make this decision, right? You’ve heard about it for sure. The Dropping Ratings. You’ve read about it on so many posts, lots of them probably oh-so-gladly conflating this fact with their own opinion about the deteriorating quality of the show. (Don’t worry, we’ll get to that.) So Obviously the execs at the Big BBC Quarters needed to do something about it, and what better way to go than rehire a guy who’s run at Doctor Who is a warm childhood memory for so many in it’s fanbase? After all, it’s what we’re seeing nowadays: from Star Wars return to wave of 80′s nostalgia to every old blockbuster star doing a comeback, there is but a single conclusion - nostalgia sells.

Or does it?

Part One: Moving with the change; or very much refusing to.

Let’s start this off with some facts about the ratings for Doctor Who. (Well, I warned you there’s gonna be numbers, didn’t I. Stick with me, I’m going somewhere with this I promise.) In it’s beginnings, in the sixties and seventies , the series flown high, averaging a viewership from 8 up to 10 million viewers per season. Collin Baker’s series 17 brought in a record of 11.21 milion viewer asses in front of a good ol’ TV screen, real champagne opener here. But, as it happens, things were downhill from here. During the eighties, the rating started dropping steadily, reaching an all-time low of 4.15 milion couch-warming bottoms in 1989, the last season of the classic era. 

Years passed, 16 of those years to be exact, and here comes our saviour RTD. Under his wings, the revived series premiered, bringing in over 10 milion viewers to the premiere episode of season 1, Rose. A viewership this high did not last for long, but still, RTD’s seasons averaged between 7 and 8 milion viewers per season, which seemed pretty respectable. But then, as the story likes to repeat itself, not unlike the bbc execs just did, along came the decline again. Ever since 2010, the ratings began steadily dropping again, from 7.95 in 2010 to 5.46 in 2017. Then DW experienced an unexpected peak in 2018 with the premiere of Jodie Whittaker’s first season, which averaged 7.96 viewing asses, but then continued the dropping trend on the next season, averaging 5.40 viewing butts.

So what went wrong?

You see, part of the reason that Doctor Who was bringing in such great viewership numbers in the 60′s and 70′s, was that, to put it simply, BBC did not have much competition. Or, to be exact, only had one competitor. ITV was literally founded in order to break BBC’s monopoly over British television. But in the 80′s, with the launch of Channel 4 and Sky, the british viewers had more and more options to choose from. So logically speaking, they no longer had to watch BBC’s programming just because there was nothing else on. There was more and more new programes to boredom-watch. And here’s something y’all need to know about the tv industry: the boredom-watchers, the casuals? That’s the most important demographic. As hard as it might be to swallow, us hardcore fans, forum dwellers and Ao3 gremlins, we’re not as big of a group as we’d like to think. Loving fans are important to the tv execs as providers of word-of-mouth advertisment, but the real numbers come from the casual, everyday viewer who will just put on the next episode cause the other one was kinda fun I guess. Or more fun than the other options, anyway.

And this is why, by the way, when someone is conflating low viewership with the show Dissapointing The Fans, they’re full of shit. I’m sorry, but we’re really not that much of a force here, definitely not enough to make such a big impact on the numbers. Another factor, that some of you probably noticed already, is that the numbers I’m quoting are from british tv only, while the online fandom is very much international, so our opinions matter even less to the british execs, I’m sorry again, hard pill to swallow I know, but true nonetheless.

But I digress. So, to sum up the previous paragraph, Doctor Who’s viewership decline in the 80′s was the effect of the changing landscape of the TV industry, with which the BBC struggled to come to terms with.

Sound familiar?

Let’s move on to the 2010′s, shall we?

2010 was is actually a good marker of a year to choose, because it marks one important thing that begun a big change in the industry. This was the year in which Netflix expanded their services overseas, from being a DVD rental company to providing VOD services. Over the next decade streaming services grew in importance, from being an add-on to your cable TV that you didn’t really want but they were throwing it in for cheap, to very much self-sustainable media services you might very well buy instead of buying the cable. And if you look at the numbers for Doctor Who viewership declining over the last 10 years, that’s precisely what’s been happening. It’s not that people don’t want to watch Doctor Who on tv, they don’t want to watch tv in general. Do you know what was the most popular channel in Britain this year? Can you guess? Fucking Netflix that’s what. It’s just slowly-yet-steadily ceasing to be the way we use home entertainment anymore. Again, not much to do with the audience approval, because for that matter, let’s see about the specific episodes that saw the spikes in viewership. 

Rose, which i mentioned at the start of it, was for the longest time the unquestionable queen when it comes to viewership, at 10.81 milion. The next episode, The End of the World, pulled in 7.97 - almost 3 millions worth of lost viewer-butts in one week? Is it because it was so much worse than it’s predecessor? No, it simply did not have the smell of Newness, the Event You Must See, and as such brought forth less of the casual viewers who were simply curious about The New Thing. The next season followed the similar formula, peaking at the premiere, when the marketing was at it’s strongest, going down during the season, sometimes rising slightly for the finale, sometimes not. The most popular episodes are, of course, the specials - yet again, the vibe of The Event To Be Seen worked here, but one more thing working to their advantage is they often aired in spaces between seasons, serving as both a long-waited Crumbs of Content for the fans, and the basically stand-alones for the casuals. Do you know what the single most watched episode of revived DW is? No, it’s not Tennant’s goodbye with the role (yeah I know, I thought it had to be that as well). It was Voyage of the Damned, between seasons 3 and 4. The perfect standalone for the casual watcher. And last but not least, you know one more special feature that brought, maybe not as much, but definitely more than expected? The 1996 movie Doctor Who, with 9.08 million. Again, a perfect standalone.

But the standalones aren’t the only way to grab the viewership. The currently-highest viewing non-special episode of DW? The Woman Who Fell to Earth, Jodie Whittaker’s introduction. In 2018 no less, in the year when the streaming was the ruler supreme, this episode brought a whooping 10.96 million buts to the good ol’ TV again. Let me reiterate: this episode brought in more viewers than Rose did in 2005, while having WAY more competition and way less favorable circumstances of release that RTD’s debiut did. Not only that, it managed to bring on some numbers for the entire season as well, not as good of course as the premiere (because again, the Event vibes faded), but still brought a better average than the last six seasons did. (Again, let me reiterate: more than the last SIX seasons. More viewership than any series since 2010, since the Streaming Wars.) So clearly, this must be the way, right? Catering to this Weird New Trend, that saw directors notice there do in fact exist other actors than white men, that surely brought in some profit, even Marvel does it now, right? Out with the old, in with the new!

Part 2 The Deceitful Charm of Nostalgia

Well, it turns out the whole Doing New Things deal didn’t work out that well after all, now did it? The second season penned by Chibbnal averaged 5.40 milion, that’s 2.5 million drop from the previous one! It must mean it didn’t work, right? Well, yes and no. As much as the refreshment of the formula as simple as Let’s Put A Woman In It absolutely worked for one season, it very visibly did not hold up for longer. An Event-Episode is something that can still happen on TV, Event-Series? That’s pretty much reserved for streaming now, if you think about it, and it’s honestly kind of a miracle that Series 11 did as well as it had. Two consecutive Event-Series on network tv? Flat out impossible. 

So how to make those ratings great again? How to get those butts in seats of the Good Ol’? Well, the execs of the BBC have a plan for that. They brought in a devouring beast, and it’s name is: Nostalgia.

Without a doubt, there is a number of people who feel nostalgic about RTD’s era of Doctor Who. It’s a lot of people’s fond childhood memory, or the series they started with, and judging by the numbers, there should be quite a lot of them. So the new plan, as it appears, is to get to those who maybe lost interest in the show and lure them with the promise of the thing That Is Totally Like The Thing You Used To Love, Remember? (This is why I don’t actually think that RTD will be allowed to do anything new and interesting, that’s not what they hired him for. And that’s why I think this is bad from the creative standpoint.) So there are two questions here: One, will the people be lured? And two, for how long?

Nostalgia as a marketing strategy is something that you’re probably sick of seeing already (I know I am). But it has very much been effective on many levels, especially the eighties-baiting, Stranger Things style, can bring a new IP up to relevance. But what about old IP’s that want to have a comeback? 

It’s kind of dificult to find another TV show that I could compare to Doctor Who. Most series that have been running for that long are mostly soap operas, that operate on slightly different rules, and are also targeted to a different audience. So as much as the movie series is still not exactly the best comparison, when I think about a big IP, campy sci-fi, family-oriented (at least in theory) on its path back to relevance, I think about Star Wars, obviously. The Force Awakens gambled on that nostalgic feeling and won big, but the next two movies, while still financially successful, were nowhere near the astounding success of the first one. And that’s because - you guessed it - it created the Event You Must See again, The Great Comeback, but merely two years later, the comeback became old news. So what we can gain from that is that nostalgia can create an Event as well as a new trend, if not better. But the question remains: how long will that last?

That is, after all, the main difference between a movie franchise and a TV series in the traditional, network TV sense of the word: movie franchise must bring in the viewership every year or two, and TV series must bring in viewers every week for at least two months. Is RTD’s Nostalgia Vibes enough to provide for that?

I’ll say this: I’m absolutely certain that the 60th anniversary will be very popular. I still don’t think it will break any records because, as I’ve been trying to explain for this whole post, it is not 2007 anymore no matter how much the tv execs would like it to be. But ironically, the almost-certain success of the special is the very thing that could undermine the effect of bringing their precious Nostagia Boi back onboard. Remember, the first Event Episode is The Big Oof. That’s the one that gets asses to the Good Ol’, if anything ever does. After the first big event one, that’s the point when things start going down. They’re wasting their Special Event Boi for something that already would be an event, dear fucking gods, I hate your plan and I would still execute it better. Either have RTD be the Anniversary Guy and then hire someone new, use that hype and keep it going, OR have RTD come in after the anniversary, then at least you get the Event Effect for the premiere of his first return season. Fukin’ amateurs.

But even if they did that, here’s the thing: do you think that the people who departed from the show years ago actually want to watch another three to five seasons of The RTD Show? I mean, I’m sure the thought warmed some hearts, for sure. A number of people will definitely gladly watch the anniversary, probably the first few episodes of the first return to the basics, but after that? In the world when, due to streaming, they have an easy way to revisit the actual thing they’re nostalgic towards? I honestly don’t think so. And you’re not really gonna get many new people by going back, if that nostalgia factor isn’t there. And then there’s casual viewers, the backbone, as we established. And here’s the thing: lots of those people don’t even know who the current showrunner is, cause they’re not Terminally Online like we are, and the second thing? Lots of those people ARE JUST NOT WATCHING NETWORK TV, IM SORRY GARRY. They’re just. They’re just not. I don’t know how to spell it out better. Even my mum has netflix now. Your biggest base is in another castle mate, gotta get moving and gotta get moving quick, cause here’s another thing: all the nostalgia in the world will not do SHIT for you if your target, people who were kids/teens when the RTD era was airing, PROBABLY DON’T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING TV ANYMORE CAUSE THEY MOVED OUT OF THEIR PARENTS FLAT AND LOTS OF YOUNG PEOPLE JUST DON’T BOTHER. Just. I’m sorry but you’re trying to resuscitate a decade-deceased corpse there buddy. It just won’t work. The times have changed and you gotta swim or drown, and it’s just not gonna be 2005 again, no matter how hard you pretend it is. It’s not your content it’s your business model. Just push more marketing for your iplayer or whatever, focus on streaming as your primary not your secondary cause that’s just what it is now, and maybe don’t rely on the viewer-counting systems of the yesteryear to evaluate your business. Or else you’re gonna get stuck sacrificing the creative growth of your show for a marketing strategy that probably won’t even fucking WORK.

There, I got it of my chest. Feel free to reblog, and also: you somehow got to the end of this, congrats! I’ll make numbers nerds out of y’all yet.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s R&S - Minor’s Memos

🍒This R&S (韩野的备忘录) is part of the Dream Heart Lake event which has not been released in EN🍒

More r&s from the event: 

> minor’s memos ♡

> tilted time

> little bro’s self-cultivatiion

> ashes

[ Chapter 1 ]

The First Memo

I was beaten up.

This morning, I was especially courageous and pasted a "Evil Spirit Begone" challenge letter on the school bully’s lunchbox. But I didn’t stop myself and pasted too many. The other party brought five people and cornered me in a small alley. I straightened my back, but felt a chill. What happened in the end were the four words I started off with... I was beaten up. With a bloody nose and a swollen face, I suddenly felt that there truly weren’t any heroes in this era... Even an ardent youth like me had to face such tribulation...

Suddenly, a pair of white sneakers stood before my eyes. Lifting my red and swollen eyes with difficulty, all I saw was an icy outline. He reached out to grab the neck of one of the school bullies, and had a sharp look in his eyes!

Oh my... It was actually Se! Nior! Ga! Vin!

Today, I finally witnessed what was a true 1 v 5 looked like. Gavin blew the dust off his hands, lowering his eyes and giving me a glance before leaving. Quick-wittedly, I tugged on the bottom of his trouser leg.

Senior turned out to be just as cold and indifferent as the legends said. During the entire process, he only said one word - “Scram”.

He’s such a MAN!

Hence, there’s a small goal in my heart. I want to learn the supreme feat of Senior’s 1 v 5!

-

The Second Memo

I looked for Senior many times, but was mercilessly ignored by him... He was either wholly absorbed in drinking water, or wholly absorbed in sleeping... I decided that I had to take the initiative! So, I came up with a plan to perfectly understand Senior.

Cough cough.

With this, I started embarking on the dull and dry life of “tracking” Senior. At 7.30am, Senior would appear at the school gate punctually, carrying a flat schoolbag. I don’t know if there are any books in it... Forget it, is that the main point? Nope!

After Senior reaches school, the first thing he does is head to the small kiosk in the north to! Buy! Breakfast! Does he actually lead such an ordinary life too? I even thought an existence like Senior’s should be above worldly affairs, and that he wouldn’t eat the food of common mortals! Hey hey hey! It seems that Senior really likes to eat fishballs? He’s been eating them for three consecutive days!!! Isn’t it good to change it to something else?!!!

During class, I deliberately went around the upper levels where the Year 3 seniors were, pretentiously passing by Senior’s window. Of course, Senior typically wouldn’t appear in the classroom at all. But!!! He was here today!!!!

As expected, he was assigned to sit in the last row, and was sleeping without restraint...

Did nobody care?! Wait, why am I feeling envious?

After school, Senior walked around, and I had no idea where he was headed to. Finally, he walked into the library. I couldn’t help but think - Senior really lives life as he pleases...

Huh? Hang on! Why would the Underworld Senior go to the library?!

He not only went to the library, but the thing which startled me even more till my jaw dropped was - I saw Senior helping the prettiest girl in class retrieve a book from the shelf!

He even... s-smiled...

Had my vision gone blurry? This was the Underworld Senior who’s said to be cold, unruly, and scares girls away?!

-

[ Chapter 2 ]

The Third Memo

I was beaten up again...  Writing these words is truly lamentable... Why did I have to rescue that stupid, unsophisticated and immoral four-eyed boy? But isn’t that what a hero does? What this era needs is a hero like me!

...this era might also not need such a weak hero like me...

That’s what I thought when I was pressed against the ground and punched by a school bully. My conviction was about to collapse. All of a sudden, I recalled the sharp look in Senior Gavin’s eyes. It’d have been nice if he were around...

Perhaps God happened to hear my wish, and Senior descended from the sky! With a dashing left uppercut, the other party lay on the ground, and I was moved to tears. 

Senior asked, why do you keep causing trouble for yourself? I very righteously said that it’s because I wanted to be a hero, and couldn’t stand to see school bullies targeting the weak. Senior then said, don’t you know that they call me a school bully?

In my heart, I responded that I knew. But I shook my head very firmly. The look he was giving me suddenly had a hint of bewilderment added to it... like he was looking at a... hm? An idiot? ...

Senior is very difficult to understand. He even told me about what true heroism was, which went beyond the words I recognised from Senior. He actually said two sentences! I’ll note them down, I’ll note them down...

Who cares about him! From what I see, heroism is about rushing to the rescue when one sees injustice!

-

The Fourth Memo

Today, I! Was! A! Hero!

I was following Senior around secretly today, though I don’t know how many days it’s been, and encountered Senior being ambushed! Those guys were the school bullies who beat me up the last time! A total of ten people were there! Terrible! Tyranny of the majority! How could I, Minor, allow such a situation to happen!

Without much thought, I rushed forward to help Senior! Of course, I was beaten up yet again... but I discovered one of Senior’s nuclear abilities-

1 v 10! Too dashing, too dashing. I don’t think Superman, X-Men or Iron Man are as dashing! Senior is a god in my eyes!

But Senior was very cold. He said two words to me which left me utterly heartbroken: courting death.

Feeling wronged, I told him that I wasn’t courting death. This was what heroism meant to me. 

Senior scoffed, then told me not to follow him around sneakily in the future, because it was annoying.

What what what? Was my perfect “Understanding Plan” exposed since a long time ago?!

For some reason, I spoke up at this moment. “Senior, I saw you handing a book to the prettiest girl in class... Are you...”

Senior coughed, then covered his mouth with a hand... W-was he actually blushing!!!!? Oh my goodness - did I discover something disgraceful? Senior actually blushed! If I say it out loud, would I get silenced?!!

-

[ Chapter 3 ]

The Fifth Memo

On the first day of becoming Senior’s, oh wait - Bro Gavin’s little brother, hehe, made me feel like I was suddenly floating. Today, I finally walked beside him in broad daylight, and felt as if a gust of wind was blowing past while walking hahahaha! I saw people looking me with that gaze! That~ Gaze~

But I never expected Bro Gavin to be so strict... All I did was mention casually that someone gave the prettiest girl in class a love letter again, and Bro Gavin suddenly got angry, and asked me to grab those people over.

Catching people is really tiring. I had to run to several classrooms, and it was really annoying to move personnel. In the future, I definitely wouldn’t do such work.

Bro Gavin glanced at them and didn’t say anything. Was I supposed to save the show?? After recalling how teachers typically lecture me, I copied them wholesale and gave them a lecture: At this young age, they should concentrate on their studies instead of fooling around.

[Note] I translated “copied them wholesale” from “原封不动”, which literally translated to “not touching the original envelope”. This is a beautiful choice of idiom because that’s exactly what Minor did later on LOL T^T

Seeing the fear and trepidation in their eyes, I became even more excited.

While I was lecturing them happily, Bro Gavin walked over and only said one thing: Get the love letters back. If you scare her, don’t blame me for being difficult.

Wow, Bro Gavin is so cool! Come to think of it, did I discover a little secret that I shouldn’t be aware of? For example, that Bro Gavin’s feelings towards the prettiest girl in class are actually..

-

The Sixth Memo

I think Bro Gavin is most likely, indeed, and definitely in love. Recently, I became Bro Gavin’s private detective, specialising in focusing on the prettiest girl in class. Maybe next time, I should change the way I address the prettiest girl in class to “Sis-in-law”... Well, since the ancient times, heroes have always loved beauties!

As of now, Bro Gavin isn’t really Bro Gavin anymore -

He hangs out in the library every day. If you want to know where Bro Gavin is, all you have to do is ask where the prettiest girl in class is... He no longer fights, no longer goes to the sports field, and no longer plays ball games anymore. He’s like a salted fish which has lost its dreams. And he actually started reading “5 Years of College Examinations and 3 Years of Sample Questions”... I just want to cry.

[Note] “5 Years of College Examinations and 3 Years of Sample Questions” (”5年高考3年模拟”) is a supplementary book for college entrance examinations used in China!

At noon, we had a PE class together, and I excitedly told Bro Gavin that Sis-in-law had chosen basketball! I initially thought Bro Gavin would snatch up a territory to play basketball. In the end, Bro Gavin hauled me over to the nearby volleyball court...

He said that it was a good place.

Good? What’s good about it? My basketball... I still wanted to display my coolness!

Afterwards, I found out that, tsk tsk, Bro Gavin was truly very sly...

The volleyball court was actually even closer to Sis-in-law’s location as compared to other basketball courts!

When I almost accidentally smashed the ball on Sis-in-law’s head, it was blocked by Bro Gavin, who was far away... How did Bro Gavin do it?!

He actually ran diagonally across the volleyball court so quickly?!!! Does he have some special ability? Will it appear!

But Bro Gavin isn’t attuned to flirtatious expressions at all...

[Note] I translated “flirtatious expressions” from the term “风情”, which literally translates to “information about the wind”

When Sis-in-law thanked him, his face was even colder than when he’s facing me... And when I “accidentally” pushed Sis-in-law onto Bro Gavin! He actually gave me a merciless killer glare. Just thinking about it makes my heart feel pained...

He didn’t recognise my good intentions, sob sob sob sob.

-

[ Chapter 4 ]

The Seventh Memo

Today, I saw another side of Bro Gavin! That is - the Bro Gavin at the sports meet! He’s such a MAN!!!

In the ten-lap long-distance race in the sports field, Bro Gavin won the first place, leaving the second place runner far behind him by three laps. He didn’t even pant!

What kind of supreme feat is this? Before, I used to think that he was only super capable in fighting. Looks like there are many other things I have to learn from Bro Gavin!

It was only today when I realised that although Bro Gavin is so fierce and is always called an Underworld Senior, he seems to be really popular, based on how the female students looked as if they were about to glue their eyes onto Bro Gavin’s body -

Ah, I just want to “tsk tsk”.

Bro Gavin seemed to be in a good mood, but when I asked him to teach me 1 v 10, he assigned me to work as a private detective again...

He was very concerned about Sis-in-law’s sprint. Perhaps he’s a tsundere or something, so he didn’t go himself, and insisted that I went instead. He even tossed his phone to me.

What’s that supposed to mean? His phone? Did he mean that I should sneak pictures? Am I, Minor, such a person?

I called out to Sis-in-law. She turned her head, and I managed to secretly photograph an utterly beautiful side profile. It looked really good. This time, Bro Gavin would definitely teach me 1 v 10, right?

In the end, he! Did! Not!

Bro Gavin is someone who values a lover more than his little bro!

What can I say? I had no choice but to squat at the side and watch Bro Gavin staring at the picture on his phone, occasionally revealing an unusual smile... 

Oh my, Bro Gavin smiled again!!!! It makes me feel frightened!!!!

Love makes people lose their minds!!!

-

[ Chapter 5 ]

The Eighth Memo

Bro Gavin looks very low-spirited recently. If he was a salted fish with no dreams before, then I reckon that right now, he’s not even a salted fish... He seems to have fallen in love with being in a daze lately.

After being in a daze in the piano room, he’d be in a daze in the library, continuously staring at the empty seat where Sis-in-law used to sit, and I have no idea what he’s thinking about. 

But I really didn't expect a person who sleeps in class to be in a daze in the library for an entire afternoon... Did Bro Gavin and Sis-in-law have a fight recently?

Very curious, I asked around, and found out that for some reason, Sis-in-law has been hurrying off after school, and no longer goes to the library nor the piano room. I also heard that she’s been doing her revision for exams at home... Could it be that she’s hiding from Bro Gavin?

Oh my god, why don’t I write an eight o'clock soap opera with such an imagination? It might even become popular!

Returning to the original topic... should I tell Bro Gavin about this? If Bro Gavin also thinks that Sis-in-law is hiding from him, he might be heartbroken.

I’m worried...

-

The Ninth Memo

Bro Gavin disappeared for quite a long time, and finally returned today! But he brought with him a body full of injuries, and it’s very worrying because I didn’t know what happened! He also stuffed a letter to me, saying that it was for Sis-in-law. Even though the envelope was flat and smooth, it had a lot of blood stains.

Did Bro Gavin do something dangerous? He bled so much! I asked him to go to the hospital but he refused... Bro Gavin is truly too wilful!

But he is really different today. Why do I feel like I’m handling funeral arrangements? Touch wood!

He also said that he’d teach me 1 v 10 when he we meet again... Wow! If Bro Gavin wasn’t hurt, I’d have wanted to pounce on him and give him a peck! Bro Gavin is the most dashing! Bro Gavin is the coolest!

Come to think of it, Bro Gavin is about to take the college entrance examinations, and the seniors from the graduating classes have been pretty sad recently. The next meeting Bro Gavin mentioned was probably summer vacation? Hehe, I’m looking forward to it a little!

In that case, while Bro Gavin isn’t around, I’ll be the one to help Sis-in-law block off all the rotten apples!

Other men, don’t even think of approaching my Sis-in-law!

She! Is! Bro! Gavin’s!

-

The Final Memo

During the entire summer vacation... I didn't see Bro Gavin...

More from the Dream Heart Lake event: here