#this was a very good book and it hit me exactly where i needed it to

[armysantiny]

Straight from where? – Sylus

P: Sylus x female reader | G: fluff, oneshot | Inc: mc!reader, those dreadful dark romance booktok books, office work, Mephisto being a glorified camera, a domestic morning, Sylus being compared to those shitty booktok male reads, mentioned Tara, mentioned Luka and Keiran, small mention of blood on Sylus| Wc: 1.9k | W: mentions of blood | R: G

Summary: After work, y/n’s gifted a few…interesting romance novels from a colleague at work, under the premise that Skye is just like the male love interests. The white hair, red eyes and slick motorbike? A perfect match, if Sylus actually was like the men in those dark romance books. Except he’s not, and the man in question is just as mortified to learn what y/n’s colleagues think he would do to her.

Min's notes: Remember when Sylus was intially released and people started wrongfully comparing him to those really shit male leads?? Yeah so do I which is why I wrote this out of spite. I started writing this a while ago, but it got sidetracked for my Wooyoung fic. Anyway~ enjoy almost 2k words of Sylus not being a shitty dark romance stereotype

It’s the sound of several books hitting her desk at the end of a gruelling workday that brings y/n out of her focus, fingers coming to a pause on the desktop’s keyboard. There are still the mission reports on her screen that need to be filled out, yet the new additions to her desk and her coworker’s eager expression spark curiosity. Taking a quick break to indulge in said sparked curiosities, as per a certain crow’s encouragement, shouldn’t be too bad. She’s been at this for hours anyway, safe to say she’s earned it.

So, she bites.

“What are these?” Y/n chuckles, then takes a proper look at the titles. “Romance…novels?” It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate a good book, but the titles she’s looking at are…fascinating, to say the least.

“Mhm! After Skye accompanied us on our outing last time, and since he’s been here to pick you up a few times, I figured I’d lend these for you to read!” Her fellow hunter answers, al bright-eyed and genuine. They go on a little longer, comparing Sylus—Skye, as far as her coworkers know—to the kind of dark romance male leads that are going viral online. A Zade Meadows kind of man, is the consensus y/n gets once her coworker is done explaining and bids her a good night before getting ready to head home themselves.

And while Sylus is… the way that he is, y/n’s having a hard time believing the very same leader of Onychinus would be capable of doing any of the things she’s heard these male leads do. To other people, sure, y/n’s seen Sylus exert his authority in a myriad of violent ways, but the Sylus Qin she knows is a man weak to her affections, amongst other things.

“Thanks for letting me read them,” she chooses to say after a beat, “I’ll try and get him to read them with me. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the comparison.” Moments after her coworker heads out of the office and is out of earshot, y/n snorts a laugh behind her palm.

As if he’d appreciate it. Which is exactly why y/n plans on taking these books with her to Sylus’ house—castle—tonight.

Driving into the N109 Zone after a long day, a long week in fact, is comforting, the never-ending darkness surrounding y/n as she rides her bike to her destination. The broach is fastened to her coat, a silent badge of protection in the place where shadows exist even in the dark. But it’s not long until she arrives outside the front door of her home away from home, and the home of her favourite crow.

“Pretty bird..?” Y/n calls out, helmet tucked under arm as she wanders around the oddly quiet walls of Sylus’ home. Sure, her bike is parked out front, and the hunter very clearly recalls hearing distinct caws as she left work, but the sprawling expanse of a home is pin-drop silent. Even by N109 standards, it’s quiet. Slipping her shoes off in favour of comfortable slippers, y/n continues her search, her helmet discarded on a side-cabinet.

An endless swath of doors, that’s what y/n decides Sylus’ home is after she opens the nth door to no success. Just where is this man?

Familiar hands wrap around her waist.

“Hello, sweetie.” Sylus smiles, cradling his hunter close against his chest. There are traces of blood on his clothes, a smear or two across his cheek, but that doesn’t matter. Not when his y/n has come all this way to see him. What an honour he’s been bestowed. “A pretty kitten decided to come all this way just to see me. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Do you enjoy scaring the hell out of me?” Y/n complains, trailing her words off with warm laughter that he could drown himself in. “Anyway, where have you been? The house was dead silent, it was weird. Thought you weren’t doing anything today.”

“I had to take care of some… last-minute business with the twins, it kept me longer than I’d have liked.” He admits, unfurling his arms from around y/n’s delectable waist when she wriggles around to go do something. There’s a pep in her step, an excitement that Sylus knows very well means she’s up to something. Or she has something to show him. Either is good.

But there’s still the pressing matter of blood on him and his clothes.

“I’ll head into the shower, sweetie.”

Heading out of the shower a full thirty minutes later and noticeably blood-free, Sylus is met with a stack of books on his dresser as he reaches for his robe, y/n watching him from her spot on the edge of his bed. It doesn’t take long, just a couple of glances between the literature and y/n, for him to come to his conclusion.

“I didn’t know we were expanding our library,” he purrs, sneaking in a forehead kiss and bringing some of the books with his Evol. “Did you buy these? Pardon the assumption, kitten, but I know your taste and… this isn’t exactly it.”

She snickers and oh, he’s not wrong. He’s being set up, lovingly, of course.

“Well, if these aren’t your taste,” he says, “enlighten me with your plans, since we’re evidently going to be reading these for the next few days.”

And, well. The next few days are interesting, to say the least.

He peruses the novels in between meetings, digesting chapter after somewhat delusional chapter, disbelief nearly a permanent expression on his face each time one of these novels are in his hands. How anyone finds any of this… literature, something of actual substance is a mystery and the sooner he can give these sorry excuses for published books back to y/n to return to her colleague, the better. Everything about the ‘romance’ stories he’s been reading leaves a rotten taste in his mouth, worsened further by the fact that this is how y/n’s colleagues think Sylus treats his beloved.

All accusations that couldn’t be further from the truth. Frankly, he’s a little insulted.

He should go and correct this mistake.

“Boss! We’ve got a lead on the group peddling fraudulent weapons out of the old warehouse!” Kieran announces, Luke already heading off to the armoury to gear up. “Shall we get the jump on them?”

So much for seeing his pretty hunter tonight. He’ll just have Mephisto watch her instead.

Just what is so good about these anyway? It’s the only thing that’s been on y/n’s mind all night, tucked in bed with one of the dark romance novels out of the set she’d given to Sylus. A flask of jasmine tea sits on her bedside drawer, the drink and her several plushies around her bed much more interesting than the book in her hand.

If she’s having such a hard time right now, sure her favourite crow isn’t faring any better. She can almost see it now; the displeased hum, his lips curled into a frown and the distinct furrow of his brows.

And of course, the only thing better than thinking about a grumbling Sylus, is to see it in person. Obviously.

Humming along to her playlist early on in the morning as she goes about preparing breakfast, y/n startles at the knock on her door. It’s god-awfully early today, ruling out anyone she could think of off the top of her head. Her hunting partner doesn’t get up for a few more hours at the very least, and there’s no delivery to pick up…

“Morning to you too, sweetie. Off to work?” Sylus grins as she opens the front door, bending down to greet her and with a familiar looking stack of books tucked away under his arm. “Why don’t I drop you off? You can take these back with you as well.”

“How did you know I had to get to work early today?” Y/n certainly doesn’t remember texting Sylus anything other than good morning and a series of happy crow emojis, so she watches him step inside and look towards her balcony. Locking the door behind her before following his line of sight, y/n deadpans.

The crow is there. What a surprise.

“So, would you like that lift to work, kitten?”

Sylus’ motorcycle comes to a stop outside the doors of the Hunter’s Association, the hum of the engine replaced by a fresh dawn breeze as y/n removes her helmet. Her bag is several times heavier, courtesy of Sylus’ effective persuasion during breakfast. Persuasion she couldn’t exactly say no to.

“Sweetie, you can’t possibly believe any of this is good reading material,” Sylus groans, leaning against y/n’s kitchen counter while she eats breakfast. It’s probably the most offended she’s seen him in a while, and out of everything that could annoy Sylus this much, it’s the borrowed book in his hand. “This is frankly a waste of paper and the publisher’s expertise, who allowed this to be released to the public?”

Trying not to laugh through a mouthful of food is proving quite the challenge.

“Some really stubborn people, I imagine. Safe to say you don’t agree with the author’s version, then?” Y/n replies, finishing the rest of her breakfast, pure satisfaction on her face at Sylus’ indignant grumblings. It certainly makes up for Mephisto watching her from the balcony like a glorified spy camera. “Here I was think you didn’t care much for romance. Silly me~”

“The only silly thing here, sweetheart,” his voice echoes out, in time with large, warm hands wrapping around y/n’s waist. “Is the ridiculous notion your colleagues have that I’d be anything like the bastards in those books. Where did that idea come from, hm?”

Surely he’s just messing with her.

“You know exactly why, c’mon.”

“No, enlighten me.”

Her desk is just as tidy as it was when she left it, except for a croissant and her favourite morning coffee from Tara. Setting herself up doesn’t take too long, and all y/n’s left with are the books she needs to return. Books she’d rather never have to look at or read again, thanks very much. Though, there’s nothing she can do about it just yet, when the book’s owner has yet to show up.

With remarkably little callouts, there’s nothing much else for y/n to do but catch up on her remaining reports. Her hands fly across the keyboard, filling out line after line with practically no interruption.

“Y/n!” The same voice from last time calls out, breaking her out of her concentration as her colleague bounds over with enthusiasm. “How were those books I lent you? Any good?”

…is there a polite way to say absolutely horrifying and utterly dreadful?

“Definitely pretty interesting,” Y/n nods, pushing her chair away from her desk to reach for her bag. Might as well return the affronts to literature to their proper owner while she’s at it. “Skye had a read of a few as well, don’t think he’ll be reading anymore now.”

The books exchange hands, finally out of her possession, and y/n’s phone buzzes. Of course it does. Of course he’s watching.

Pretty Bird: Finally, took you long enough sweetie. Good riddance [12:54]

Pretty Bird: Let’s agree to never punish our eyes with that garbage ever again. Deal? [12:54]

Miss Hunter: As long as you agree to pick me up after work, Sy [12:56]

Pretty Bird: Then I guess we have a deal. See you after work, my love [13:00]

© copyright work of armysantiny 2025-2026

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Taglist: @freakywonbin | Taglist Form

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Seven Covers in Seven Days: UNTETHERED SKY by Fonda Lee.

tagged by: @asexualbookbird

Every day post the cover of a book you love and tag someone to do the same!

tagging: @torbooks

[captainfantasticalright]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On collaborating together:

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

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

Terry shortly mentions,

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

Neil says,

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

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

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

More about the writing process:

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

The book was under way.

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

From the introduction to William the Antichrist:

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

It felt like a story with legs.

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

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

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

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

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

...ready for it? - j.l. howlett

a/n: hi! here's a full version of a blurb i wrote a few days ago that got so much love so quick that i wanted to give yall a full version! the beginning is literally just the blurb but after that it's all new! like many of you wolverine brainrot has hit me hard, so here's graphic smut about him. leave a comment or a reblog if you enjoyed :) warnings: SMUT!!!!! some dumbification, use of pet names, reader is fem, reader is a mutant and able to control plants, lots of cursing, lots of grotesque fliritng/fantasies, some soft moments, some sort of primal sex, oral (fem receiving), some of the setting is probs inaccurate but whatever. let me know if i missed any big ones!! word count: 4.9 k summary: well, you had to find some way of entertaining yourself at charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters. and you have always liked an emotionally unavailable, absolutely hung, challenge. pairing: logan howlett x mutant!reader now playing: ...ready for it? - taylor swift "in the middle of the night, in my dreams/you should see the things we do, baby/in the middle of the night in my dreams/i know i'm gonna be with you, so i take my time"

You are absolutely enthralled with him. It’s actually sort of pathetic how your fingers twitch at the sight of him, at how the mention of his name or god forbid the sound of his voice makes your head snap up, attention deficit disorders be damned!

Funnily enough, you had no damn interest in Xavier’s stupid mutant school, because to you, you’re not an outsider because of your mutant abilities (that don’t have much of a physical apparition, at least one that you can’t hide) but because there’s never been much of a place for you to fit in.

But, you were behind on rent and of course, you fucking hate your job, so why not? You’d be able to be slightly less of a freak, and you’d get free room and board in the process! (Where Charles gets all of his money, you do not know.)

And because you’re a little older, Charles doesn’t force you to sit in a class room to learn about basic arithmetic and grammar lessons, so you really only do some training around three times a day, you have your own room (with a dusty box under the other bed, you also suspect your room used to be the ‘sex’ room) and you have the weekends off.

So for a twenty something year old with few ambitions, the social skills of a Martian with autism, and a huge crush on every older emotionally unavailable man you meet, it’s a pretty good set-up.

You’re waiting for time to pass in the garden, just reading a rather interesting book that Charles had recommended after he noticed you needed something to pass time before you started making bad decisions.

You hear his heavy footsteps on the gravel before you see him. Your heart beats faster, but you will yourself, do everything in your power not to glance up at him. And you let out a breath as you succeed, keeping your head down.

“In your natural habitat, are you, spitfire?” Your head darts up to him—There’s no way he isn’t talking to you, you know you’re the only one in this garden. And you can see his lips twitch up and you want to crawl out of your skin!

“My-My natural habitat?” You laugh, closing the book you’re reading because your attention is locked to him now.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He saunters on up to you and sits on the bench next to you.

And let’s make something very clear—

Logan Howlett does not sit.

This man poses, as if there’s always some invisible camera capturing every frame of movement, from the way his legs spread out, to the way his chest lifts when he inhales.

Fuck, you think you might die if you can’t suck him off right now.

“And what exactly is my uh.. habitat?” You question.

He takes out his lighter and a cigar, placing the cigar in his mouth as he gestures to the space around the two of you, lighter in hand.

“A garden.” He says, matter of facility, as his voice is muffled only the slightest bit by the cigar.

And you just sort of look at him before asking,

“Oh, you enjoy being boiled down to your mutations, Claws?” You question, and as he goes to light the cigar, he smirks.

“Alright, you gotta admit though, it is cliché!”

You are absolutely in agreement, there is zero doubt you are as much of a walking, breathing, real life living, stereotype.

“It is not!” And the pair of you give each other this look, like you’re both shocked at how whiney that statement is!

“Uh-huh, sure, Spitfire.” It sounds almost like he’s purring at you.

When he lights his cigar, he’s sort of eying you for your reaction, whatever you might say.

“You know, smoking is not only bad for you, it’s awful for the environment.”

“You’re probably the most cliché little freak around here.” Which.. honestly..? Shouldn’t possibly turn you on as much as it does.

You just stare at him for a minute, and he smirks.

“Cat got your tongue?’

And maybe it’s stupid and maybe it’s immature but your hand just comes over to fiddle with the pointed part of his hair.

“We’ll you certainly look the part.” He just looks at you, and honestly? The way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s proud of you for teasing him.

“Aw, there’s my little spitfire,” He teases, just to see how red you get. And red you are— it’s embarrassing. And here’s the kicker—You are young. Exceptionally young, and what’s insane about that? How horny it makes both you and Logan.

The idea of fucking your innocent cunt, tight and all his, drives him genuinely mad. And you are, quite literally, a whore for the idea of riding this older man’s dick. You know he’s big—sometimes you see the outerline of it when he walks away from you all huffy and puffy.

“You’re a tease, Claws.” You respond, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says you,” he raises and eyebrow, leaning closer to you now, “You’re the one laying around in the sun, looking like that.”

“Looking like this?” You scoff. You’re wearing a muscle tee and a pair of ripped jeans, but the gaps are huge and he can see your thighs. He wants to devour you, and you would let him if he only asked.

And let’s be clear—he is fucking you with his eyes. There’s no way to go around it.

“I think you’re just.. horny.” You tease, and he just growls. Seriously, this man who is undressing you with his eyes, growls, because he does want you and he is horny!

“I think you’re onto something.” He purrs, and you want to just.. god. You don’t know how to express the pit of desire that grows in you. “I would fuck you until you couldn’t think, right here among your pretty flowers. Would you like that, baby?” he asks, his hand finding your thigh.

But you just cough on the smoke from his cigar, before frowning.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.”

“Aw, I’ll make it up to you.” He smirked. “Promise, spitfire.”

He’s very close to you now, so you take a second to just breath and you know that he knows that he’s got you—hook, line, and sweet, sweet sinker.

And then you realize what exactly it is that you’ve gotten yourself into. And what a nightmare it is—Or maybe a dream if you listen to the pathetic part of your brain, but you are into this an in a way that is concerning for your own mental wellbeing and desperately want to avoid him having all the power in this situation.

“Oh, I am sure you will.” You assure. You lean forward, plucking the cigar from his lips, and placing it on the ground, squashing it beneath your heel. With a flick of your wrist, vines and grass grow over the cigar, composting it. And from the vines, grows a small little buttercup flower.

You lean down and pluck the flower from the grass, before tucking it behind Logan’s ear.

“You should take care of that hard-on you have, Claws.” You hum, before standing up, and walking away. And for a minute, he just watches you go—partly to because you have an amazing ass, but partly because you have absolutely flabbergasted him.

And have made him want you even more.

• • •

The next time you see him is the next night, in the woods near the mansion. Because the literal sixteen year olds you go to ‘school’ with do not know how to do anything on the weekend except drink, fuck, and smoke.

Honestly, you kind of fit in great.

So here you are, nursing a mason jar of.. some fucked up concoction, and you’re not too sure what’s in it, but you have drunk two of them and are on your third. You think you might live forever, until you glance up and see Logan, in these fuck me jeans and this burnt orange flannel and a wife beater.

Instantly, you know that you’ll die tonight if you don’t have him.

He approaches you with this cocky smirk as if he hasn’t realized your intoxicated state yet.

“Now what’s a little spitfire like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” he questions, tilting his head. His smirk is deadly. And you roll your eyes.

“Here comes the big bad Wolverine, all bark and no bite.” You scoff, and his eyes flash with surprise. Only for a second, but even drunk, you notice the way his eyes shoot up in surprise.

“All bark and no bite? That’s quite the accusation.” He hums.

“Well, we’ve been.. eye fucking each other for a few weeks now, and you haven’t even kissed me yet. I get being into foreplay and edging, but holy shit, Claws, throw a girl a bone once in a while.” You scoff, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Are you.. drunk?”

“Do you think I’m drunk?”

“Yeah, you’re drunk.” He sighs. You respond by taking another sip of your drink, but before the bitter liquor hits your tongue, he snatches the bottle from you.

“Let me take you home.” You’re sure your eyes look like hearts, so, dreamily and a little love struck, you respond,

“’Kay.”

And he chuckles a little bit at that.

“We’re not gonna do anything, I’m just gonna walk you home, spitfire.” He starts, and your face falls a little bit, but in an effort to hide it, you respond,

“..’kay.” And he sees right through you. You’re pretty much an open book. And the alcohol doesn’t help. His pointer finger and thumb comes to your chin, and he gently rubs his thumb against your lip.

“Don’t be like that, pup. It’ll happen soon. Just not tonight, okay?” He assures.

“’Kay.” You answer softly, and you think he smiles at you but your vision is sort of blurry. Then, you blink, as a gust of wind moves through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. He sighs, and wordlessly takes off his flannel, before wrapping it around you. Your arms slip into the sleeves, and you almost cry because it’s like, the best hug in the entire world. “Won’t.. you be cold, then?” you question, and he just shakes his head.

“Let’s get you home, spitfire.” He holds a handout to you, and without a second thought, you take his hand. He wraps his arm around you, and you lean against him like it’s something the two of you do often. If you were sober, you might short circuit. But, you’re not, so it feels right.

The walk home is quiet, but Logan’s thumb gently rubs against your shoulder. He wants to do more, but he knows he shouldn’t, since you are in fact plastered.

You ignore the giggles and whispers from teenagers making their way past you to the party or to their rooms, and you even ignore the way their giggles stop when they meet Logan’s gaze.

When you get back to your room, you take a second to lean against the door, and he takes a second to admire the way you look in his clothes.

“Ready for bed?” he asks gently, and you just smile at him.

“You’re really pretty.” He just does the half scoff-half chuckle that you’re obsessed with. Then, he wraps his arm around you again, opening the door to your room, and guiding you inside. He gets you to your bed and sits you down, before kneeling in front of you to untie your boots. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look on your knees?” you ask.

He just gives you this smirk.

“One or two pretty girls back in the day.” He says, “None as pretty as you though, spitfire.” He says, and you groan, leaning back and laying on the bed, as he pulls off your boots.

“You’re awful.” And you need him.

“Yes, I know, baby.” His voice is almost condescending, and it turns you on. But then he stands up, grabbing the folded blanket from the edge of your bed, and laying it over you. He finds his place kneeling next to you again as you stare at him, cozy in bed. His hands gently brush hair from your face. “Do you need anything else?”

“You.”

“Soon. But not yet, pup. You’re too drunk.” He says softly.

“Thanks for walking me home, Claws.”

“You’re very welcome, Spitfire.” He purrs, leaning forward and kissing your forehead gently. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Logan.” You mumble as you drift off to sleep. He sits there for a few minutes, just looking at you for a long time before he gets up and creeps out of your room.

• • •

The next morning, you sit in the cafeteria, drinking a large coffee, and nursing the worst hangover, possibly of your life. Made even worse by the fractions of memories about what happened last night.

You rub your eyes, flinching when you hear the clatter of a plate on the table, and someone sitting across from you. You peek through the gaps of your fingers to see Logan sitting across from you, a smirk on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

“I hate you. Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he laughs. But he sees how much pain you’re in, and slides two pieces of sourdough toast to you. “Truce?”

“Truce.” You agree, taking a slice and biting into it. You feel better.

And after a moment of silence, he asks,

“I’m never getting my flannel back, am I?”

Truthfully, the flannel has been folded neatly and tucked into your drawer, for the next time you need some comfort.

You tilt your head, looking right into his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

• • •

Weeks go by like this.

You spend your days either going to class or hanging out—okay, it’s more like flirting with a side of hanging out, with Logan. The pair of you become quite close, and maybe that’s why you haven’t fucked yet.

Oh, the two of you want to, and it’s obvious to everyone (Charles has called you out for being distracted more times than you can count, and you remind him not to probe your mind, and he tells you he does not need his mutant abilities to see that your thoughts linger elsewhere.) but you’re.. afraid, at this point.

Which is odd, because you’re no virgin, you know he wants you, but.. what if everything changes after that? Maybe he’ll start to avoid you. Maybe you’ll start to avoid him. And you’ve really become good friends, and don’t want to lose it.

And then, there’s the fact that half the time, he’s away on dangerous missions, and even if he can regenerate, you worry about him. But he hasn’t been on any lately, so it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You’re sitting in the garden when it happens.

He finds you, and this time, you do not even try to hide the way your head picks up and gazes at him.

“Hi, Spitfire.” He grins, and you smile a bit at him.

“Claws, what can I do for you?” And he sits next to you, and for some reason, maybe because he doesn’t say anything at first, you know that there is something wrong. And you know what it is.

After a few minutes, you glance to him.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, as if you’re scared that if it gets any louder, everything will fall apart.

“Yeah. Charles has me going on another mission.” He doesn’t say it, but you both know this isn’t an involuntary thing.

“Cool.” You cringe at your reaction.

“I guess.” He laughs weakly, as if he knows he’s twisting a knife buried within you.

Silence fills the air. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it isn’t the relaxed silence you’re used to with him. Confessions dance on the tips of your tongues, and you’re so close to saying it, that when you turn to each other suddenly, you just need to look at each other for a second.

“Be safe.” You say quietly. “And hurry back.” You request, and you try not to sound like you’re begging.

“Of course.” He says, like it perplexes him that you even have to request. “I can’t leave you here yearning for me forever, can I?” He teases, and for a moment, you have this flash of an alternate universe where he does die on this mission and you are trapped in this garden forever, waiting for him. Like a lost puppy, or worse, a lost lover. The mere thought of it fucks with your head.

“No. You can’t. I won’t allow it.” You explain, “If anything, I’m the one that should be haunting you.” He just smiles. A real, not at all awkward smile.

“I’m sure you will, spitfire.” He says, and his head comes forward so that his forehead is resting against yours.

“When do you leave?” You ask gently, and he sighs. His breath smells of mint and cigar smoke, maybe even a hint of lemon.

“An hour. I have to pack quick and then debrief.” He answers you.

And just as love struck as you were the night of the party, you answer,

“’Kay.” You smile weakly at him. And he just.. looks at you for a few minutes before sighing again. He pulls away and leans up to kiss your forehead again, before standing up. He turns a few steps away from you just to tease you.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?” he requests softly. Before you can stop yourself, you stand up, and wrap your arms around him. He only pauses for a half a second before he returns your embrace, and it becomes apparent that you both needed this moment. You stay like this for a few minutes before you pull away.

“Bring me back a souvenir.” You try, a soft smile on your face.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll bring you something great from the great city of Tulsa, Ohklahoma.” He grins.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

• • •

For the next week, you feel like this must be what it was like for housewives when their husbands went to war. You knew all too well that that statement was extremely dramatic, but you simply cannot help yourself.

You think you might die by day three.

It’s like you’re going through withdrawals and it’s making you go genuinely insane.

You have worn this man’s flannel for almost the entire week, because at first you’re a little self-conscious of other people noticing your repeating outfits, but only at first. By day four, you have decided you don’t give a single fuck.

Day eight you’re just laying in bed, quietly making a list of all the positions you want him to take you in. It’s a long list. You’re brought back to reality by a knock on your door. You’re about to snap, knowing that you’ll tell whatever child has been sent to bother you to scram, but when you open the door, you grin widely.

Logan stands there, looking tired, but he’s smiling and holding up a shot glass that reads ‘Tusla’, and has skyline on it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d get you a souvenir?” He asks, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, pulling him in. He hugs you back, making sure to squeeze you just a bit—your feet barely come off the ground.

He pulls away, and you grin up to him.

“You came back.” You say it as if you can barely believe it, and just for a moment, he feels an emotion he can’t quite place, but he ignores it.

“Of course I came back, spitfire. All in one piece too, as requested.” He grins, and you’re just.. amazed at the look of him. “What’s that look for?” He asks gently, tilting his head.

“I just..” you start.

And then you break.

You lean up and kiss him gently, those stupidly delicious sideburns making your stomach flip. He doesn’t waste time, kissing you back, his arms around your waist. After a minute, you pull away.

“Sorry. I’m kind of done playing that game of waiting for you to kiss me. I just got the first hit of you I’ve had all week, and I feel fucking amazing.” You confess, and sure, it’s not a big grand love confession with tears and poetry, but your words make him kiss you so intensely that you start backing into your room, his hands exploring your body as you tug off his leather jacket, a new flannel for you to steal coming off soon after.

He keeps kissing you as his hands come down to your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, before gently pushing you to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, and begins to tug off your boots again, then, on your jeans.

You grin.

“You know, I’m getting the oddest sense of déjà vu. Something about you looking great on your knees.” You tease, and he just tugs off your jeans in one strong swoop, before leaning in to bite your thigh. You gasp, your hands coming up to tug his hair.

Then, he begins to tug at your panties, and you tilt his head up, glancing at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, before I was interrupted, I was about to eat you out.”

“Wait, really?”

He blinks, confused.

“Yeah. Is that a, uh.. problem..?” He hasn’t gotten any complaints yet.

“I just.. I didn’t think guys actually did that, I thought it was just.. a porno thing.” And at this, the man who is about to burry his face between your thighs, laughs. And not just a chuckle, this man hollars. “What’s so funny, claws?” You ask, a little suspicious.

“Nothing,” he promises, “I am just going to take such good care of you, pup.”

“I’m holding you to that, claws.” And then, he leans in and begins to kiss your thighs, gently biting down here and there. Then, he licks a stripe along your cunt, and you let out this loud moan, and your hand comes up to clamp over your mouth, but he reaches up to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

He pulls away to lecture you. Lecture you. On his knees. Head between your thighs.

“Nuh-uh, I wanna hear all the pretty noises you can make for me.” Then, softer, he adds, “Never been eaten out before, fuckin’ travesty.” He mumbles, before leaning in to lick your cunt again, beginning to lap his tongue over your throbbing heat.

His nose rubs against your clit, and it’s enough to drive you genuinely crazy. You’re unsure how you’ve gotten to this point in your life without having your pussy worshipped like this, but with him around, you’re pretty sure you’ll never go another day without it.

His tongue continues to work magic on your cunt, as his nose presses against your clit, stimulating you to the point of making you see stars.

Your hands tug at his hair, and the moan that it elicits from him is enough to send vibrations through your cunt through your stomach. Your head leans back as you moan, and for a moment, you hope there is no mutant in this mansion with super hearing.

His free hand grips your thigh as he bends your leg back to get better access, as he continues to eat you out. The mere taste of you is enough to drive him crazy—He almost wants to start thrusting into the side of your bed, he’s so hard, but he ignores that urge to continue to eat you out.

“Mm—Lo, I—I’m gonna—”

He just hums into your cunt, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze of approval, before his tongue moves even faster (if that’s even possible, though, he is an amazingly surprising man), and suddenly—

You feel a release you have been waiting for weeks, and it is fucking phenomenal. And the Wolverine just licks up all your cum, even if it makes your thighs shake, but honestly, he doesn’t care and neither do you. For a moment, you just listen to the sound of your own pants.

After a minute, you are able to look at him, and he just looks up to you with the same smirk that has been torturing you for all of those weeks. And you just have to pull him up to kiss you, like it’s the only way you’ll be able to live.

As you kiss him, you pull off his wifebeater and then your hands rest on the sides of his face as he pulls off your shirt as well, before his hands begin to make quick work of his belt, wanting to skip all of the pleasantries and just fuck you.

But when he finally gets his jeans off, you pull away, and he stares at you like you’re crazy.

“What the fuck could possibly be more important than me fucking you stupid?”

“Will you just.. let me look at you?” You scoff, your eyes flickering over him to just memorize every square inch of his body. He humors you for a few minutes, standing there with his hands on hips before he leans in and cages you in with his arms.

“Show’s over, spitfire.” He purrs, leaning in to kiss you, slowly making his way closer to you so that you’re laying back on your bed. At some point during the kiss, his boxers come off, and when you feel his cock against your cunt, you moan into the kiss, and you can feel his smirk against your lips.

Oh, you could kill him. But, you suspect maybe he’ll get to you first.

After he kisses you for a few minutes, he pulls away to tell—not ask, tell you, “I’m going to fuck you now.” And you know your line.

“’Kay.” He grins at this and kisses you again, before lining himself up and starting slowly. He just has the tip inside of you, and you begin to moan, your grip on his shoulders tightening. You already feel entirely too full, and he slowly agonizingly slowly pushes into you, and he sees how his size makes your face twitch,

“Shh, shh, I know, pup. Deep breathes for me, bub,” he says softly, such a stark contract to his rough movements, as he bottoms out and has his entire cock inside of you. And he gives you a second, watching as your face relaces, adjusting to the size of him. “Okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“’Kay,” You assure, and he kisses your forehead.

“’Kay.” He responds, and before you can tease him for it, he begins to thrust into you, slowly as first, but he continues to quicken his pace. Your nails begin to scratch on his back, and he lets out this angelic moan—You must’ve died and went to heaven.

As his thrusts quicken, the lines quickly blur between quick ruts and an animalistic need, manifesting itself in the way he fucks you. You know you won’t last long, especially when his fingers find your clit and begin to rub it again.

“Fuck! Oh my god—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, his free hand coming to your thigh to lift your leg up, only for better access to your throbbing cunt, “God, I love the feeling of you around me.. Worth the wait, I promise.” He grumbles, as he thrusts into you, his only goal to make you cum.

You want to respond to that—To tease him, to make him feel as shy as you do, but he has completed his goal of fucking you stupid.

All you can do is respond, “Fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby, go ahead, cum for me,” he requests softly, leaning in to press a rather jarringly sweet kiss to your lips.

As you cum around his cock, he shudders, the look of you, laying there fucked dumb, is almost too much for him to bear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, pup,” he tells you, and all you can do is moan in response, which makes him come that much closer to the edge. After a few more thrusts, with a euphoric moan that will haunt you forever, his hot cum fills you up, leaving the pair of you clawing at each other, wanting more.

When you’re both finally finished riding out your high, Logan lays next to you, keeping you close. His grip on you is tight—possessive. When you finally find your voice, you ask,

“You’re not gonna turn me into a booty call, are you, claws?”

And he laughs.

“No,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head. “You’re gonna be my best girl, Spitfire.”

“Does this mean I get to steal another of your flannels?”

“I’ll give you my whole fucking wardrobe to see how many times I can make you cum.”

[thestrangepoet]

The Ninth Life | The Magnus Archives One Shot

Based on @ultramarinaa's Cat!Martin AU, and not upon @coworkerjonathan's soul-destroying tragic version of it. If you want that version, it's here.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Buttocks-clenchingly sweet fluff. 

DISCLAIMER: I, once again, wrote this in an hour and haven't proofread it. Forgive the typos and any “first draft” vibes. 

──── •✧• ────

[CLICK] 

Oop, yup, it’s on! Right, erm…This is Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute. I thought it would be a good idea to—

[A VERY LOUD, VERY RASPY HISSING CUTS MARTIN OFF]

[A LONG, WEIGHTY PAUSE FOLLOWS; SOMEONE IS BEING GLARED AT]

What? I-I mean, given the absolute palaver we just went through, shouldn’t we record what happened and how we fixed it? 

[SILENCE FOLLOWS. BUT MARTIN EVIDENTLY GETS HIS ANSWER]

Exactly! Right, so…ah-hem. This is Martin Bla—

[ONCE AGAIN, A LOUD HISS]

What? What is wrong with—No, Jon, you’re going to hit the—!

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

[MARTIN RUFFLES SOME PAPERS, THEN EXHALES LOUDLY THROUGH HIS NOSE. WHEN HE SPEAKS THIS TIME, IT’S SOMEWHAT TAUT]

Statement of Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding an encounter with a feline-based Leitner book called The Ninth Life. Recorded by subject, October 17th, 2017.

Happy now? 

[LOUD PURRING NEAR THE TAPE RECORDER SIGNIFIES THAT MARTIN HAS INDEED DONE A PASSABLE JOB]

Good, good. Right, oop! Yeah, okay, you can…sit on my lap while I record this. That’s not…that’s not weird at all. Knowing you’re…you’re Jon. 

…You could at least sit like a cat, Jon. No, no, no, don’t get the claws out, it’s fine! Sit how you want! Heh…K-keeping an eye on me, hmm? While I record? Oh, r-right, yeah, ‘Get on with it, Martin’, noted!

So…about ten weeks ago, I came across a book while tidying through some of the old statement boxes. I’m not sure why it wasn’t in the library or in Artefact Storage, but I suppose that’s a mystery for another time. A-anyway, I had a flick through to try to figure out what it was. Could have just been a normal book, you know? E-especially since it wasn’t put away properly, I mean, really, that’s a health and safety risk that wasn’t my fault, and—Ow! Claws! 

R-right, ‘Stay on the subject, Martin’, loud and clear…

Where was I? O-oh, right. So I took it through to the break room, sat down with it, flicked through, read a few…err, well, ten pages to be precise, and basically, it was written like an old fairy tale. Something about a man who turned into a cat to get away from everyone and…W-well, what I’m trying to say is that it didn’t seem like a Leitner! 

I’d probably have finished reading the whole thing, but the microwave dinging made me jump and look up. No one usually uses the microwave outside of lunch hours, but Jon actually makes cups of tea by microwaving mugs of water and then—Ah-ah-ow! N-no, I’m not getting claw-bullied into not telling people the heinous way you make tea, Jon! 

Right, right, fine! Yes, so, microwave dings, I look up from the book, and…I drop the book. And I drop to the floor, a-and the book’s suddenly huge, and there’s Jon, and he’s looking at me, and…

…and I was a cat. I-I-I guess Jon hadn’t noticed me in the break room before putting his mug in the microwave, because he didn’t realise I was me. Next thing I know, I’m being picked up, held over his shoulder, petted and cooed at and—Owwww, claws, claws! Right, okay, no, no one can know Jonathan Sims has a heart, right you are! 

E-erm, so…Yeah. Panicked a bit. I-I tried to make it obvious to the others that it was me, but they just didn’t cotton on. And I couldn’t read the book to figure out if the ending would tell me how to turn back. O-or if I even would turn back. Honestly, in any other situation, I-I might have been really terrified, but it’s hard to keep worrying when people are suddenly stroking you and giving you all this affection. Heh, Jon even named me Champion. 

But, right, I-I really needed to turn back into a human. You know, as lovely as it was to be liked by everyone, I figured, well, it’s deeply unprofessional to turn into a cat at work, isn’t it? And I really didn’t want to be written up for unauthorised absences when I was technically in the room? 

It took a while – I don’t know who moved it, but the book had gone when I managed to slink back into the break room, had to wait for someone to open the door for me, you see – but I eventually found The Ninth Life again. 

It took ages to drag it over to Jon’s desk. And even longer for him to stop laughing and telling me what dedicated little chap I was. He picked up the book though, and I got so excited that someone would finally realise a Leitner was in play that I jumped up onto his desk and…

…and I…erm…I knocked his cup of tea over the book. 

I could feel my heart sinking. What if I’d ruined it? What if the answer was all smudged up? Jon could tell I was upset, and he started trying to pet me and calm me down, mopping up the tea and everything. Took a while before he got back to the book, and, well…the bookplate had been smeared by the spilt tea, I guess, because he didn’t see any mention of Leitner at the front. He started reading the book, and I tried to nudge him to read the back pages first, to get to the answer before the book could turn him into a cat, but he, erm…well, he read it. Five pages, we think. 

And there he was. 

One minute, Jon’s at his desk, the next, there’s a little black cat with too many scars sitting in his chair. 

Well, after he’d stopped hissing, running around the room – Tim thought he had zoomies, ha ha! – and bapping me on the head every time I got close, he realised who I was. 

And then, he bapped me on the head again. 

So. We were both cats! And it’s so funny, because in the office, Tim and Sasha and me, we all say how Jon gives off major black-cat energy? He’s like this poor wet cat in human form, and now that he was a cat, and it turned out, he is…w-well, he’s not very good at being a cat? 

[A LOUD HISS – EVIDENTLY, MARTIN HAS FORGOTTEN JON IS SITTING THERE]

Don’t hiss at me! You know it’s true. I mean, look, you’re literally sitting in my lap now like a human. Cats don’t do that, Jon! It looks weird! 

R-right, okay, let’s, erm, get on with the story – ah, statement, statement! – before I get scratched again. 

S-so, right, Jon wasn’t really getting the hang of being a cat. He kept clambering up onto desks to type on keyboards, trying to tell Tim what was happening. He wouldn’t even jump up onto the desks, he would literally shimmy up the leg like he was climbing a tree. And, yeah, he doesn’t sit in your lap like a cat, all curled up, no no, he sits…like a person sits. So I figured actually, this was pretty good, someone had to realise something was up with this cat that just wasn’t catting. 

But no. No, no, Tim just laughed and named Jon Skrunkly and got on with his day. 

[A LONG, LOW MIAOW OF CONTEMPT IN THE BACKGROUND]

Nooo! You’re not skrunkly at all, Jon! You’re a very handsome little kitty!

[A HISS]

Right, right! Back to work! Erm, yeah, so, there I am, trying to teach Skr–err, Jon how to act more like a cat. Not because it would help get us back to normal, but because I was worried? He kept falling off stuff, not landing on his feet…jumping and missing things…He was having a really hard time, and I figured if we were stuck like this indefinitely, it might help to, you know…teach him a bit? 

And then, one day, he just…vanished. I wandered in one morning from the canteen, ‘cause Sasha had snuck me a plate of milk, and I couldn’t find Jon anywhere. Tim realised pretty quickly that something was up, that I wouldn’t settle down, and then he noticed Skrun–err, Jon, was missing. 

It took days for me to sniff him out. Which is…a really weird thing to say out loud. On record. Erm. I sniffed my boss out. But it’s insane, as a cat, the difference in senses, a-and to be honest, my eyesight was dreadful because I obviously couldn’t wear my glasses. A-anyway, sniffed him out, and realised he had somehow fallen into the tunnels through the trapdoor? Which is weird as well, ‘cause the trapdoor is always closed. No one would have opened it? 

[ANOTHER LOW MIAOW, BUT THIS ONE SOUNDS STRANGELY LIKE SKRUNKLY IS TRYING TO SPEAK – IT ALMOST SOUNDS LIKE HE’S SAYING ‘SASHA!’]

I know, Jon, you’ll tell us when you, erm, get back. 

So, now I knew where he was, I went into full hyperkitty mode. I was zooming around, miaowing, pawing, jumping on Tim, jumping at Tim, launching myself off bookshelves, you name it! Somehow, I managed to get the message across, and Tim went to open the trapdoor. 

I…I hate going into the tunnels. I really, really hate it. But Jon was down there, and as far as we knew, he’d been down there with no food and water for days! So, down I jumped, with Tim clambering after me telling me to slow down. I kept sniffing, and it was actually pretty easy to find him after that! 

There he was, curled up and shaking near a wall, and I ran towards him, miaowing my head off so he knew we were coming to the rescue, and…

And I…changed back. Right there. Just pop! There I was. 

Tim, erm…Tim screamed. Jon hissed and nearly ran away. It was chaos, and…I’m actually surprised all three of us made it out. Especially with Jon going wild on Tim and clawing him every time he tried to pick him up. What was that about, anyway, we were helping you!

[ANOTHER GRUMBLING MIAOW – DID SKRUNKLY SEE SOMETHING IN THE TUNNELS? OR SOMEONE? WAS HE TRYING TO TELL THEM?]

We got back up to the office, Jon in tow, and now that I could speak, Tim, Sasha and I managed to hash out a theory. 

Basically, we figure that there are a lot of Leitner books that kind of do different things depending on how much you read of them. S-so we have one on record, A Disappearance, if you read one line, you disappear for a bit. But, if you read the whole book, you disappear from the world for good. 

I read ten pages of The Ninth Life, and I was a cat for ten weeks. Checks out! So we reckon Jon read about five pages, and it’s been three weeks, so…two weeks of Skrunkly to go!

Right, think that’s it. Yeah! So, erm, if you’re looking for a cure for The Ninth Life, just enjoy your time as a kitty and wait it out! U-unless you read the whole book, in which case, erm…I-I really hope you enjoy your life as a cat. 

End recor–Ow! What did I miss off this time? 

[SEVERAL LIGHT THUDS SOUND]

Why are you pawing the book, Jon? I…oh. Right. 

Erm…I think Jon wants it on record that, erm…the book is eleven pages long. And…and I read ten pages. 

[THUD-THUD-THUD!]

Yes, yes, all right, you microwaving your tea saved me from an eternity as a cat! That does not mean I am going to let you continue to ruin perfectly good cups of tea like that!

[A LOUD MIAOW OF PROTEST. MARTIN SIGHS]

Recording ends. 

[CLICK]

[venomhoundfanworks]

Hazbin Hotel - Sleeping Habits

NOT TALKING ABOUT DIRTY STUFF. We talking about actual sleep-sleeping. Vent post I guess. Been feeling lovesick and missing having another person in the bed. Which inspired this post. Post about what its like to share a bed with Alastor, Vox, and Lucifer and their overall sleeping habits.

My other work can be found on my masterlist >>HERE<<

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; SFW except like one suggestive thing in Lucifer's section; I can't tell if writing Lucifer is making my own depression worse or better Actual brainrot below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

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Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

I know alot of people headcanon that Alastor doesn't sleep or sleeps very little. But Hot Take™ here: Alastor sleeps a completely normal amount. Like, 7-8ish hours. He just hides when he does.

I mean think about it. What emotion does Alastor hate expressing more then anything? Vulnerability. When are you (arguably) at your most vulnerable? When you are sleeping.

So I have it in my head that Alastor throws himself into special hiding places when he needs to rest. His room in the hotel with the bayou pocket dimension is a great example. Alastor probably has a hidden cabin in those woods. He actually considers the cabin his "room" and goes there to sleep. But good luck finding it.

Sleeping in front of someone/with someone is kinda a phobia of Alastor's. I wouldn't be surprised if this started developing after he killed someone in their sleep during his mortal life.

Anyway. When you and Alastor become a thing, there really is no defined point where he 'moves in'. It happens more like your boiling a frog. Gradually. Until you reach a point where you don't even know when things changed exactly.

Alastor slowly spends more and more time with you. More time with you inevitably results in him spending more time at your house. Which results in Alastor bringing, and leaving, more of his stuff at your place.

This cycle keeps going and going until one day the culmination hits you. It happens when your looking in your closet, the once messy and haphazard storage space is now tidy and perfectly split between your clothes and Alastor's. Thats when it hits you. The fact that Alastor is practically living with you now. Yet, not only have you two not talked about it, but Alastor doesn't spend the night. Ever.

Don't get me wrong, Alastor will spend all day with you. But when you tell him your getting tired or are about to go to bed, he bids you farewell, kisses your knuckles, and just kind of... leaves.

At first, you attributed his behavior simply to the time period he was from. But as time goes on you realize its something deeper then that. Although you are never fully sure if Alastor doesn't feel comfortable sharing a bed, or if the demon actually needs less sleep then you do.

There have been multiple times where you started falling asleep beside Alastor late at night. When Alastor got up to leave, you would grab the edge of his coat and plead with him to stay. Alastor would then settle beside you, gently caressing your forehead, and tell you that he would stay until your asleep.

During these times, Alastor will often gently hum if not outright sing to you in an attempt to lull you to sleep. One of Alastor's new favorite things to do is to settle in next to you with a nice book while you snuggle into his side and fall asleep.

Once your sleep, Alastor will gently put his book down and turn to look at you lovingly. Alastor is very much that type of weirdo who likes to watch you sleep. He finds everything about your sleeping self utterly adorable; and will happily gush about whatever you do just to embarrass/fluster you. When I say everything, I do mean everything. If you snore, drool, whatever it is, Alastor finds it endearing.

He will usually stay and bask in your sleeping glory for awhile before leaving. But Alastor always kisses your forehead goodbye. Its a little moment of vulnerability only he knows about.

Alastor is an enigma. While he has no problem staying with you until your sleeping soundly, he refuses to actually stay the night. The only time you can reliably get him to stay in bed with you is during his ruts. Otherwise, the stars just have to align right.

If you actually do manage to get him to sleep in the bed with you, Alastor is very much a big spoon. He likes to protectively wrap his arms around you and embrace you. Pulling your bodies flush together and assuring you both of the other's presence. Alastor will tangle his legs with yours as well; throwing one leg over your hip to pull you ever closer, and sliding the other one in between your legs for even more contact

Alastor won't complain too much if he is already laying there and you decide to wrap your arms around him, spooning him instead. But Alastor's preferred position is as the big spoon by far.

The big downside of sleeping with Alastor is that he will not let you go once he is asleep. I hope you don't have to pee in the middle of the night because this man's arms have you in a deathgrip you cannot escape from. It feels like his subconscious mind is afraid that if he let you go, he would lose you forever.

Alastor also nuzzles his face into the back of your neck and shoulders while he sleeps. Your not sure if this is actually an affectionate gesture or a deer scenting thing.

Alastor's ears always seem to be moving. They twist, turn, and flick around. Reacting to the smallest of sounds and listening for danger while he snoozes.

Overall Assessment: An acquired taste. Just like cannibalism.

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Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Has the best internal clock out of the entire Hazbin cast (and thats not a pun). Vox is very consistent with his sleep schedule. He is in bed around 11pm-midnight, and naturally wakes up around 6ish. No alarm needed. Unless he has to wake up extra early for a meeting of course.

Honestly, this guy's internal clock is rock solid. The only times it gets fucked up are when Velvette and/or Valentino (mostly Valentino, lets be real here) drag him out to a party, bar, or club late at night. Vox never has a good time anyway, so he doesn't even know why he goes.

Vox always ends up trashed and staying up until like 3-4am. Not exactly a good idea when your body has been trained to wake up early. His body will wake him up only a couple hours after he went to sleep whether he likes it or not.

This usually ends up with Vox being super sick for a day. Because he is still kind of drunk, but also kind of hungover, living on two hours of sleep, and drinking coffee like its water just to remain standing. Vox is just a complete mess and no one knows why he came into work to be honest.

Vox goes to bed early that night (at 10pm; thats "early" for him), and wakes up the next day mostly recovered and reset. Mostly.

Once you and Vox get together, you help Vox's sleep immensely. Whether purposely or not, you start teaching Vox to prioritize his sleep more and how to get actual rest.

Vox can actually *gasp* take a nap if you do it together. He doesn't even remember the last time he was able to have one. But now he loves it and siestas become a regular thing the two of you share.

You also mess up Vox's internal clock. But in a good way. Yeah, Vox still wakes up like clockwork every morning. But if your snuggled into him and still sleeping, Vox can actually go back to sleep.

Vox's preferred sleeping position by far is the Nuzzle/Cradle. His widescreen forces him to sleep on his back so there isnt exactly many options... But Vox really wants to cuddle and touch you.

So youll inevitably end up draping yourself practically on top of him like a weighted blanket. Your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of Vox's pulse, with his fingers gently petting you… Also like a weighted blanket, you comfort Vox in a way he cannot begin to explain.

Vox will get pouty if you don't like sleeping on his chest or its too hot to do so. He will deny through and through that he does it though. Vox is one of those people who is like 'IM NOT POUTING' as their bottom lip is sticking fully out.

But once you two start sharing a bed, Vox actually has to be touching you in some way. He doesn't know what it is, but he just cant get comfortable and starts getting restless when you two arent touching. So other good sleep positions that work well with him are the Tetherball or the Leg Hug.

For the Tetherball; Vox will just simply rest his hand on your hip while you sleep. This works best if your a side sleeper, cause then Vox can gently hold the curve of your hip. Drawing mindless shapes into your skin with his claws as you both go to sleep. This simple contact is more then enough to assure Vox that your there and safe so he can rest peacefully.

As for the Leg Hug; Vox feels weird about it at first. Sticking his leg out to the side, hoping for some contact. God, he feels desperate. But he needs to feel you. When he does, all his anxiety immediately melts away. When you reach your leg back and tangle it with his, Vox feels butterflies rise into his chest. You really do love him.

Once Vox is asleep, he is... odd, to say the least. He is simultaneously a light sleeper and a heavy one. You figure it has something to do with the technological parts of him and what they deem 'safe' or not. Like, what triggers his internal alarms.

For example, you can easily just get up from the bed, shake the bed, bounce off it, and Vox wont budge. Won't even move. But then someone sneezes outside his hotel room and he is up instantly.

Because of how light of a sleeper he is, it takes Vox forever to go to sleep. He is one of those people who has to lay there for a solid hour. Even then he rarely goes into actual deep sleep. Vox tends to go into this weird rest mode where his screen will start doing that old dvd logo bounce thing. If his screen is completely black however, it means that he actually managed to fully power down for once.

For the love of god, if Vox actually fully powers down, do not jolt him awake. Vox going into deep sleep like that is rare enough as it is. But waking him up suddenly from it makes him incredibly groggy. It honestly completely ruins his entire day because he feels like he never fully wakes up.

You can always tell when Vox is awake (or semi-awake) because he will be gently petting you, tracing circles into your skin as a way to sooth himself. The moment Vox goes to sleep, he stops. You've also noticed that when this happens, his hands tighten slightly into a protective grip on you.

Overall Assessment: The best one to sleep with on the list if your looking for actual rest. Too protective for his own good even in his sleep.

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Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

I hope you don't like actual rest too much. Because this guy has no idea what a sleep schedule is. I mean, he kinda did when Lilith was around. But since she has been gone everything has just been out the window.

As my fellow depressed people will know, it wreaks havoc on your sleep. One day you cant get out of bed and sleep twenty hours. Then you cant sleep at all and go days with only three hours of sleep total. This guy does that.

Not to mention this man is certainly, most definitely, somewhere on the spectrum. Thats also gonna fuck with his sleep massively. Lucifer will hyperfocus on a project and forget that 'oh yeah, food and sleep are things I need'.

Lucifer will hyperfocus on a new duck he is making and not leave his workshop for over 15 hours at a time. When he DOES leave, its only to make snack/food runs. Passes out on his workbench or tea-table constantly.

So uh. Yeah. Poor guy has no actual sleep schedule. When he starts staying at the hotel, Lucifer is commonly wide awake at 3am and highkey will scare the shit out of people like a ghost. Insomnia to the nines.

Once he is actually asleep, Lucifer sleeps like a dead man. Nothing can wake him up. This is a learned trait. In the height of his depression after Lilith left, Lucifer stopped seeing a point in getting up most days. He started sleeping through alarms, sirens, explosions... He just stopped bothering. What's the point? Its not like he has anything good to wake up to anyway.

Lucifer starts... trying to fix his sleep schedule once him and Charlie reconnect so he can spend more time with her. Well. Attempting would be a better word for it. Lucifer keeps doing that thing where he goes, 'oh yeah I should try going to bed early tonight', then proceeds to stay up past four in the morning. So no progress has actually been made.

Once YOU come around however, Lucifer actually starts sleeping normally again! Eh, kind of. Its a work in progress. But its progress! Which is MUCH further then he has gotten before!

The problem is, you have to trick Lucifer into sleeping. Otherwise he will keep trying to say he is busy, say 'just one more thing' to infinity, or start whining that he isn't tired.

So what do you do? Start kissing him and entice him to bed with the promise of cuddles. Or you can start kissing and nipping at Lucifer's neck with a different kind of sleeping in mind... (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ He is sure to stay in bed with you if you wear him out first, right?

Another tactic that works everytime is to pretend to fall asleep next to him in his workshop. Sometimes this plan fails right away because you actually do end up falling asleep; but thats not the point here. Lucifer gets the most loving smile on his face as he picks you up bridal style and takes you to bed, only for you to grab his arm and pull him into the bed with you.

You thought it was a pain getting him into bed? Well he is a pain once he is in the bed too.

Lucifer is an actual koala. He can't just be touching you, oh no. He has to be embracing you. He has to be having as much contact as physically possible in order to sleep. It seems like every night his goal is to see what new shape of human knot he can tie you two in.

I hope you run cold or can tolerate heat well. Because like I said this is the ONLY way Lucifer can sleep. Lucifer will do whatever he can to make it work though. If you tell him your uncomfortable, he will change how your limbs are intertwined. If you tell him your too hot, whelp. Time to start losing some layers. And blankets are overrated anyways!

If you tell Lucifer you legitimately cant sleep like a pretzel, it will actually break his little heart. Lucifer will 100% take it as a personal rejection. He will stop sleeping in the bed with you all together so he doesn't "bother" you.

On a much happier note; once you two are tangled up and somehow manage to fall asleep, Lucifer is the cutest thing once he is sleeping.

Lucifer does that thing where he will half wake up in the middle of the night and kiss you before going back to sleep. If you do the same thing (or just generally kiss Lucifer while he is asleep), he will make little happy sounds in his sleep when you do so. You swear they sound kind of like bird cheeps.

Also thanks to >>this combo post<< by @poisned and @heart-of-the-morningstar I now have it permanently in my head that Lucifer talks/mumbles in his sleep.

Before you two got together, it was mostly nonsense or things about his ducks. But now you often hear him muttering your name, how much he loves you, or just saying other lovey-dovey junk in his sleep.

Overall Assessment: Lucifer is extremely difficult to handle, but doing his best. That's what really counts right?

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AN: Just a disclaimer, the thing about tricking Lucifer into bed by pretending to fall asleep in his workshop so he carries you isnt my idea either. It was from a cute fic here on Tumblr but I cant find it at all. ๐·°(⋟﹏⋞)°·๐ Please lmk if you know what fic Im talking about! I literally spent hours looking for it.

FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Check out this ADORABLE fic about Vox trying not to wake up his very sleepy s/o >>HERE<< by @timeslugarts

One of my favorite posts is this super cute bedtime and pajama headcanon post by @activesplooger that can be found >>HERE<<

[chaengluva]

Assigned to you

Nerd! Loser! Ellie Williams x Fem! Popular! Reader

WC: 1.6k (sorry it’s short, I’ll make the next ones longer)

Warnings: None

Part 1: Prev/Next

Let me know it you wanna be in the taglist!

—

The school buzzed with its usual chaotic energy—students laughing, lockers slamming, and shoes squeaking against polished floors.

For Ellie Williams, it was sensory overload, a daily reminder of how much she despised high school. She kept her head down as she weaved through the bustling hallway, her headphones perched securely on her head, though no music played.

They weren’t for entertainment; they were for survival, a barrier between her and the world she tried so hard to avoid.

Ellie stopped at her locker, tugging at the handle with her hoodie-covered hands.

Her textbooks were lined up like soldiers, each black cover marked with a tiny sticker: red for maths, blue for physics, green for history.

Ellie loved organization, and she hated bright colors, so this system was her perfect balance. She grabbed the books she needed, carefully closed her locker, and slipped her hands back into her pockets.

Maths, physics, and history made up the start of her day, and while most people would find that lineup miserable,

Ellie didn’t mind. She liked the logic of it, the predictability. There was no guessing, no group work, just numbers, facts, and dates. That didn’t mean she didn’t feel the pressure, though.

An upcoming maths exam loomed over her, and the constant chatter from her classmates made it hard to concentrate.

Ellie clenched her jaw, her pencil tapping rhythmically against the desk as she tried to block out the noise. She had to focus—she couldn’t afford to miss anything if she wanted to get into a good university.

Art was her true escape, though. Later in the day, when she could finally swap equations and historical timelines for her sketchbook, Ellie felt the tension ease from her shoulders.

She loved sketching more than anything else. It was her way of expressing what she couldn’t say, of creating worlds far removed from her own.

Meanwhile, across the school, your day was starting very differently. You strolled into the building a full thirty minutes late, your heels clicking confidently against the tile floor. You were the complete opposite of Ellie—where she avoided attention, you thrived in it. Ellie dressed in dull, baggy clothes, while you dressed in pinks and mini skirts.

Walking next to your best friend, Olivia, you laughed loudly, drawing the stares and whispers of your peers as if you didn’t notice. But you noticed. You always noticed.

“I don’t understand why Jake even tried hitting on you,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I mean, you’re so out of his league it’s embarrassing.”

You giggled, brushing her comment off with a playful shrug. “Oh, don’t be mean. He’s sweet… in his own way.”

“Sweet doesn’t make him your type,” Olivia said, raising an eyebrow.

You just smiled, dodging the conversation as you reached your locker. Unlike Ellie’s, yours was a chaotic mess of papers, pens, and random odds and ends. You grabbed whatever notebook and pen were closest, not bothering to check if they were the right ones for your next class. Organization wasn’t exactly your strong suit.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later,” you said, waving Olivia off as you made your way to the gym for PE. You didn’t bother changing; your teacher had long given up trying to get you to participate.

Instead, you sat on the bleachers, scrolling through TikTok, sending snaps, and texting your friends about weekend plans.

The attention didn’t faze you. You were used to the way people’s heads turned at the sound of your heels, the way their conversations paused briefly as you passed by.

Back in maths, Ellie was growing more agitated by the minute. The constant chatter of her classmates made it nearly impossible to focus on the teacher’s explanations.

Her hands clenched into fists under the desk, her mind racing with formulas and deadlines. The bell rang, and Ellie shot out of her seat, meticulously gathering her things and heading straight to her next class.

You walked out of the gym and your head quickly shot to the side quickly when you saw Ellie rushing to get to class, it made you giggle as you shook your head, mumbling “Nerd.”

The two of you had passed each other in the hallway before, maybe even brushed shoulders once or twice, but neither of you had ever really noticed the other.

Your next class went by really quickly, now you have history, you slowly walked to history because you really didn’t feel like showing up, but you knew you had to.

When you walked into the classroom, your eyes went straight to Ellie, she was sitting at the front of the classroom, she was sitting up straight and listening carefully to what the teacher was saying, you rolled your eyes and shoved past her and sat at the back of the room, putting your headphones in and ignoring the teacher.

“For the next 3 months, you will be working on a project with a partner, the two of you will choose an historical event and make a physical poster and a presentation,” The teacher exclaims, the students roll their eyes and already plan who they want to be with.

The teacher interrupted them with something all students hated hearing, “I will be assigning your partners.”

Louder groans were heard, and everyone rolled their eyes as the teacher began to list out names. “Dina and James, Vanessa and Lily, Emma and Olivie, Kai and Mike, Ellie and Y/n.” The teacher announced and everyone started moving to be with their partner.

Ellie slowly walks towards you, and sits next to you, but your head doesn’t move, she coughs to try and get your attention but you still don’t move, so she slowly moves your hand to tap your hand on the shoulder.

You take your airpod out and roll your eyes, when you make eye contact with ellie. “Umm, what?” you ask, Ellie fiddles with her thumb and index finger, looking down shyly, “we are partners for our project..”

You take your other airpod out and put it in the case, not saying anything to Ellie, she sighs saying, “look, I really need a good mark, I can do all the work if you want me to.”

You look at Ellie with an annoyed expression, “You think I can’t do it?” You ask, Ellie quickly shakes her head, scratching the back of her neck, “No! No! That’s not what Ii said!” She exclaims in a panic, making you huff and roll your eyes, “It’s what you meant.”

“No!” Ellie yells, catching the attention of everyone in the classroom, as they stare at her, her cheeks go red from embarrassment and she tries to hide her face with her hoodie. “Chill out, I’m messing with you, but I still want to do the work, my parents would kill me if I get another bad grade.” You say, Ellie’s eyes go wide with excitement.

“Great!” She says loudly, but then gets embarrassed again, “I mean great as in- I’m glad you’d join me! not great as in your parents killing you..” Ellie quickly confirms. You giggle, which makes Ellies cheeks grow more red.

“Anyway, Let me give you my info so we can plan when to do this project.” Ellie nods her head, taking out her notebook and pen to write it down. “Do you have snap?” You ask, Ellie quickly shakes her head.

“Insta.” Ellie nods her head, “What’s your username?” You ask, already having your phone out, ready to put her username in. “Umm..Lemme just type it.” Ellie tries to reach out for your phone but you move your arms away and wait for her to say her username.

Ellie looks down at her hands and quietly says “Ellie_theDino” You look back at her confused, not hearing her, “What?” Ellie sighs, saying it louder so you can hear her “Ellie_theDino..”

You type in the username and it’s the first page that pops up, a private account with 43 followers, a profile picture of sharks and a bio that says all her favourite things. Sharks, Dinosaurs, Spiderman and women

The bell rings and you quickly get up, saying to Ellie quickly “I requested you.” Ellie nods, “I’ll follow you when I get home, and I will message you about the details.” Ellie says and you nod quickly and exit the classroom.

-

Taglist

@vahnilla

[readychilledwine]

may i pretty please request a little cassian one shot where it’s a very out going reader who is NOT shy at all and never balks from anything unless it’s sex related and cassian absolutely loves undoing her once she gives in and making her all flustered and needy with his little taunts. LORD—

specifically from the smut prompt list:

“I know you’re not shy, so come here.” or like “Use your words, baby.” with a possible sprinkle of exhibitionism oh pls pls pls pls if this makes sense idk lol

Good Girl

Summary - Your birthday celebration at Rita's becomes Cassian's golden chance to end your 2 year shy and dry streak.

Warnings - voyeurism/exhibitionism, smut, fingering, oral, hair pulling, choking, spanking, unprotected sex, possession/ownership kink, dirty talk, cream pie

A/N - Happy Birthday, @sarawritestories! I was already finishing up this request, and your birthday actually made finishing this one shot easier. I wanted Cassian to have a special reason to fulfill one of reader's fantasies.

I hope you and my tumblr baby, @loneliestluvr enjoy this so so much 💕

✨️Cassian Masterlist✨️General Masterlist✨️

Cassian was watching you like a hawk tonight. Eyes glued on how your body danced in time to the music, to how Mor touched you as you two moved in time. He hated when you acted like this, so bold and brave in public. So okay with being touched by anyone but him. Talking a big bold game in your book club with Amren, Feyre, and Mor about wild sex you've never had.

You two had been mates for over 2 years, yet heated kisses and heavy petting was as far as you had let him go. It was driving him feral. Every time he had tried to get you into his bed or prepared to crawl on his knees to get into yours, it was something. “My cycle,” or “a headache,” or “Not a good body day,” whatever the fuck that meant. You were perfect to him. Curves in all the right places just begging and teasing him to touch. Cassian craved to be the reason your thighs clenched, to just once be the reason his shy girl screamed. He felt his lust growing as you and Mor approached the table, and the way your scarlet red birthday dress clinged to your figure, sparkling in the lights, made it worse. 

His mate, his love, looked like the picture perfect face of innocence in his color when he knew the nasty things you read about, talked about, and fantasized about was too much. “Come with me,” Cassian's alluring voice hit your ear so softly. You took his hand, following him with both of you carrying your drinks in hand. 

As Cassian pulled you further into Rita's, you began to blush. The lights had turned to a deep shade of red, doors locked and glowing to indicate they were occupied while some were open. Cassian smirked and pulled you into  his goal room, thankful that for once, it was empty. As if the Mother had intended for this night to go exactly as he wanted. He had you against the glass wall instantly when the door shut.

“Why are we in here,” your face began to flush his favorite shade of pink. Glaze tinted glass was the only thing separating you and Cassian from the rest of Rita's. The private room of the pleasure hall was reserved for only the most bold couples, showing just their silhouettes as they partook in activities you could hardly dream of. 

Cassian trapped you between him and that glass, towering over you, “Don't get shy on me now, baby.” His lips crashed on yours after the request, hot and heavy as he lifted you and forced your legs around his waist. You didn't know if it was the shots helping you relax, or your hope to have finally had birthday sex with Cassian, but here you were, moaning softly into his kiss as he pulled your hair back and began kissing down your throat and nipping softly. 

“Need you to be a good girl for me,” you shivered at his murmured words. “Going to fulfill that dirty little fantasy of yours. Give you the best birthday present." You couldn't help the soft moan and smile, knowing instantly what he meant.

This room was visible behind the bar. The silhouettes of the people inside dancing like shadows on that glass for all to see as they ordered their drinks. You had dreamed for years of being taken in this room and had made the mistake of drunkenly sharing that fact with Rhys and Azriel. 

Cassian began to untie the corset laces of your dress, suddenly annoyed by the back that the whole back was held together by the ribbon instead of him having to deal with just one small area. But Gods, it hugged you in the best places, showing your curves and dips in a way that had him drooling for you. He could hardly wait as it finally fell to the floor and you were bare beneath. He quickly set you on the lounging chair, knowing you were in view of everybody.

He'd never undressed himself so quickly, growling at the sight of your soft skin. Be wasted no time trailing his kisses lower. Worshiping each of your nipples until they came to perfect peaks. “Such a beautiful girl. My little exhibitionist.” He continued his path lower, nipping at your hips before kissing down your luscious thighs. He held eye contact with you then, as his kisses trailed up in the inside of your right thigh. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

The question lit a fire inside of you, body now aching for more of him, to please him, “Yes, General.” He smirked as his title rolled off your tongue before licking up your core. The taste of you made him hum. And he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves slightly before circling and flicking it with his tongue. He repeated that after watching your head fall back and your body arch. 

He took his time, tasting every drop of you and rotating between sucking your clit and pushing his tongue as deep into you as he could. Your legs began to tremble below him after denying your body what you had craved for so long. You both knew it would be fast, hot, and passionate. You could worship each other at home, but here, here was built for sin, nothing more, nothing less.

Cassian began to slowly work a thick finger into you, stretching you open for him while his mouth focused on your swollen bundle of nerves. Your body felt as if you were burning alive as your stomach felt tighter and tighter. Moans and pants falling into breathless noises. Cassian listened with sick pride as his normally composed and eloquent mate began crumbling for him, because of him. 

He looked up and saw your pleading eyes, “What do you need? Use your words, baby.” He smirked as he went back to working your core, prepping you for your first time taking an Illyrian.

“More, please General, more,” you finally begged for him, eyes rolling back as your back arched hard. He worked a second finger into you, growling at how tight you were, at the thought of how good you'd feel around him. You cried out as his fingers finally found the spot he'd been looking for and curled into it. Moments passed like breaths, his name repeated over and over until you finally gave him what he wanted, your release. 

He knew other fae could hear you screaming his name in ecstasy, but he could not bring himself to care as he worked you down from the High. “That's my good girl,” he groaned as he pulled his mouth from you, licking his lips to savor every bit of your essence before pulling his fingers out and holding them to your mouth, “I want you to clean them. I want you to taste the nectar of a Goddess.”

The words hit exactly how he needed them and you became hazy eyed, licking and sucking his digits as an almost tingly feeling settled into your body. As soon as you were done, he flipped you over, pulling your hips in the air before you could try to protest or return any favors. Tonight was for you. For your pleasure, and he was just getting started.

You gasped as the feel of his cock lined up and sitting at your entrance, “Hold on to something, y/n.” He pushed in hard before you could respond, forcing you to plant both hands on the glass and keeping you trapped. “So fucking tight. The prettiest and most perfect pussy.” His pace became relentless quickly. Hand coming down on your ass before squeezing it hard. 

There were no words or noises coming from your mouth, just bliss making your jaw fall open in silence. You felt like you were drooling, drunk on him, on his feeling, on the way you could feel every vein and he pushed and pulled. But you weren't close enough for Cassian, and soon he grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to arch your back as he kept pounding into you. Your shoulders met his lower chest as his other hand moved to your front, brushing your clit slowly and teasingly. “Do you know how long I've waited,” his voice was low and deep, filled with his own pleasure. “Been dreaming about you going dumb on my cock for years and here you are, unable to even speak.”

You could only whimper in response as his hand moved from your hair to your throat, testing your limitations. “I could stay inside you forever,” his head fell back. “Love this body of yours forever. So fucking perfect. Every godsdamned inch of you.” The praise hit you, pushing you towards the edge again as his pace became sloppy. “Not going to last, baby. Cauldron this pussy. Best pussy I've ever had.”

That made you gasp, eyes lighting up in excitement, “Yeah? You love filling me, don't you?” His smirk grew at your response. “You love knowing my pussy is all yours, huh?”

He growled, a feral instinct waking up with those words. His fingers began to move fast in your clit, forcing words to turn to cursing, moans, and whimpers. “All fucking mine. My mate. My wife. My good girl. Mine,” the edge in his voice left no room for arguments, no way to fight and even try to claim otherwise if you had wanted. “Scream. Scream my name so every single soul in Velaris knows who you belong to.”

Your lip trembled as how close you were and you moaned his name, “Cassian-”

“Louder.”

His pace became impossibly quick and your mind became numb to anything but the pleasure of him hitting your gspot over and over while his fingers worked your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Cassian!”

“Come. Come for your General.”

You came screaming his name so loudly you were sure all of Velaris did know who you belonged to. Your core began fluttering around Cassian, triggering is own orgasm. He pumped himself deep inside of you, releasing directly into your heat as he groaned your name. 

He squeezed your throat gently when you both came down before releasing it, allowing your sore body to rest as his head found the spot between your shoulder blades. The room was heavy in the scent of your shared bond as it hummed and burned brightly between the two of you. “I'm never going a day without you again,” Cassian panted before turning your head to kiss you softly. “Happy Birthday, y/n."

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[kingkat12]

omg I love your fics so so so much and I think you would absolutely nail a fanfic where roman is teaching reader how to smoke? or something like that 😭 like it being really intimate and stuff ughh idk but roman smoking just makes me go absolutely feral

Roman..... teaching reader.... how to smoke....?

do you.... want to give me..... a heart attack......?

THIS WAS SO DAMN HOT IT MADE MY BREATH HITCH WHEN I READ THIS, you BET i want to write this!!! you know me, i love writing reader having her first time doing anything at all lol, this was PERFEEEECT!! hope i've done your request justice, thank you so much for this one!!<3333

nymphomaniac (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, smoking, mentions of sex, angst, flirting deluxe, Roman's mouth is FOUL

summary: not all lessons are good for you-- especially the ones taught by the notorious Roman Godfrey, who you also happen to have a history with

word count: 2,425

a/n: and this is NO WAY an encouragement to smoke, i don't smoke myself so... heh. read at your own risk i suppose, and be critical of what you read on the internet PLEASE!! mwah

How to smoke – a thorough guide by Roman Godfrey. That was a book I wouldn’t buy in a million years; why give a millionaire more money?

Thankfully, I didn't have to pay anything to get a free trial from the author of said imaginary book.

Roman sat next to me on the porch leading up to the house of the party we were at, having asked me to follow him outside to escape all the noise. I wouldn’t have gone with him, had I not started to get a headache from what I could frankly only call ear-rape. “It’s too fucking loud in there,” I muttered, shifting on the uncomfortable step. “There’s a reason I don’t go to these things very often.”

Roman shrugged, patting down the pockets of his jacket. “It’s not usually this bad when someone else hosts. But I heard this guy is notorious for being legally deaf, so that might explain it,”

“I wouldn’t be shocked if he did that to himself,”

With a laugh, Roman pulled out an orange-hued box of cigarettes, shaking his head. “It’s too bad you don’t attend parties that often. I never see you anymore, y’know? Just bring some earplugs if you’re so bothered by the damn noise,” 

Oh. My heart jumped with a jolt of pain. I cleared my throat; “Of course you don’t see me anymore, Roman… We broke up two months ago,” 

Despite seeing it coming from miles away, it had been the hardest breakup of my life. I knew whom I had gotten into a relationship with, knew exactly what kind of a guy Roman was, so I had been emotionally prepared for it when it all fell apart. The relationship had been more of a whirlwind thing, a lust thing, which had left me with a very bad case of being-walked-in-on PTSD. That one time Roman decided he wanted to go down on me at school, only for my math teacher to walk in on us in the classroom, was a memory I was sure I would never forget. Sadly. 

However, the bliss of being sexually compatible couldn’t carry the relationship forever, and I was aware of that long before he was. Around the time we hit the one-month milestone, I could see in his gorgeous green eyes that he was tired. Roman needed to be free to function, free to fuck any girl that walked by, and free to disappear for hours and come back whenever it pleased him. 

And what did I need? I wasn’t so sure anymore. 

If I were to use my brain and ponder that question once more, I would conclude that I needed to stop sitting next to my hot ex-boyfriend who was now lighting one of his classic cigarettes. Roman knew I didn’t approve, knew how many times I had told him it was cancer on a stick—still, I settled for the fact that he wasn’t scared of death. Actually, he probably wasn’t scared of anything other than real commitment. 

With a sigh, Roman nodded to himself. “I’m aware, but I’m still allowed to miss the sight of you,” He turned to me, his strikingly green gaze piercing mine— I held my breath. This was getting intense. Nonetheless, the next thing that rolled out of his mouth caught me off guard; “Do you have a lighter?” 

… What? “Roman, you know I don’t smoke,”

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk. “Worth a shot. I had hopes that you’d at least managed to become an arsonist in our time apart, maybe then you’d carry a lighter around with you,” Like this, faced with his heartbreakingly beautiful smile beneath the hues of the moonlight, I was reminded of the first thought I ever had when I met him; he was so… cool. Roman always looked so damn cool. I loved the way it made my heart flutter— the feeling of being with the coolest guy at school was still the most thrilling feeling of all. I felt cool, knowing he wanted to sit next to me instead of being inside the loudest party of the year hunting down his next lay. 

It was impossible not to smile back. “Don’t be so disappointed. At least I’m still a cannibal,”

Humored, Roman chuckled; “Glad to hear it,”

“And you’re still a nymphomaniac,”

That seemed to strike a nerve— Roman let out an offended huff, now patting down the pockets of his jeans. “Forget it. I never go anywhere without my lighter, anyway,” he mumbled.

Oh no. “I didn’t mean it as an insult! We were joking, Roman. You’ve never been the type to hide that you like… sex—” 

“Don’t fucking talk to me about sex right now, I’m too tipsy,” Roman’s words were harsh, snappy. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, now fishing out his usual red lighter; I hadn’t seen that one in a while. “No sex-talk. None.”

“Fine, Jesus!—”

“Thanks to you, I now have to smoke away the taste of you. Thank you,” he grumbled, a slight twitch appearing beneath his left eye as he brought the cigarette to his plush lips— oh, how I missed those. “Your perfume isn’t helping, either. So don’t talk about sex, because then I’ll start thinking about sex with you, along with how you taste after I’ve been going down on you for about ten minutes, squirming, whining, and then I start thinking of how much I miss it. So could you just—just shut up for a minute, okay?”

I stared at Roman in disbelief, my lips parting as my jaw threatened to hit the floor. He must’ve had a few beers too many to be talking so openly about… anything. I would go off on him about his use of words, telling me to shut up, but I was too stunned to think properly. With my mind still buzzing, I scooted closer to Roman on the cold steps of the porch, daring to lean my head down on his shoulder like I used to do when we were together. “You’ve only proved my point,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “Nympho.”

I knew him too well— I knew Roman would appreciate casual physical contact. He didn’t have enough of that in his life, anyway. Chuckling, amused, he lit his cigarette, inhaling with a quiet moan— something told me he had been waiting for a hit for some time. And just as I opened my mouth, ready to start my usual smoking-is-bad lecture, Roman cut me to it; “Don’t start talking about cancer now, either,”

“It is a cancer stick,”

“I don’t care,”

“You should!”

“But I don’t,” With a sigh, Roman exhaled, watching the smoke evaporate into the warm summer air. He leaned his head on top of mine, and I couldn’t help but think how the smell of the cigarette clashed with the comforting smell of his shampoo. It ruined everything. 

This conversation was one we’d had tens of times, and I wasn’t too keen on repeating it. “Roman…” I reached for the cigarette he lazily held between his fingers, feeling the softness of his hand against mine. “Maybe you don’t care, but I do. You need to take care of yourself.” I didn’t need to look at Roman to know his brows were drawn together as I took the cigarette out of his hand, holding it away from him. 

He sighed again, slower this time; “If you’d ever smoked, you’d see the appeal,”

“Yeah?” It was hard not to roll my eyes— “The appeal of cancer?”

With a low laugh, Roman turned his head, kissing the top of my head out of habit. Weirdly enough, it felt platonic for the first time ever, yet it didn’t fail to evoke a hard thump in my chest. It felt like I was being electrocuted from the inside, and my eyes sprung open—I was happy he couldn’t see that. “Not cancer, don’t be stupid,” he huffed. “Just use that pretty little brain of yours, I know it’s in there somewhere.”

If only he knew my brain was currently working overtime. “I’ll never see the appeal of inhaling crap that ruins your lungs. If anything, you’re the stupid one,”

Roman rolled his eyes, gently giving my head a nudge with the shoulder I was leaning on, motioning for me to sit up. “Let me show you, just once. If you don’t like it, you’re allowed to call me a nicotine-addicted nymphomaniac until the last day of high school,”

“And the day after. An extension for your favorite ex,”

“Nope. The day of graduation, and that’s it,”

I turned to look at the blindingly pretty smile on Roman’s face— how was it possible not to fall for this guy? He was gorgeous. “Fine,” I mumbled, knowing I would call him that no matter what behind his back until the day he died. “So how the fuck do I do this?”

Something in Roman’s green, green, eyes shifted. Maybe he was wondering why he had ever let me go in the first place— maybe he was thinking about the word to describe the color of my hair as it mixed with the grays of the moonlight? He cleared his throat, turning his body towards me as I mirrored him; “The first step is easy,” he said, reaching forward to place his hand behind mine, bringing the cigarette to my lips. 

My skin burned. Fucking burned, with every touch. 

Roman’s eyes were already big, which is why I was surprised to see they could get even bigger when he gazed down at my lips. “Open up,” he breathed, absentminded. 

Now, I could be sure he wasn’t thinking about the color of my hair. Maybe he was back to reminiscing about the taste of me? Or other nasty nympho things, as per usual.

I placed the cigarette between my lips, but Roman let out a short, alarmed sound that nearly made me yelp. “Now comes the trick,” he urged, leaning closer— I was unsure whether he was aware he was inching towards my face or not. The closer he got, the easier it was to focus on the single strand of his dark hair that lay over his forehead, straying from his stylings. It was so damn attractive— I had to hold myself back from smiling, now that I remembered the one time I caught him pulling it out of his gelled updo to lay it there on purpose. Cutie.

“The trick?” I echoed, realizing he had frozen to his spot just staring at my lips. I pulled the cigarette away from my mouth; Roman hadn’t said anything for about five seconds. This was bad. This was dangerous. It made me want to jump him and let him fuck me right here on the porch. 

“Uh—” Roman cleared his throat, letting out a breathy chuckle as he shook his head. “Sorry. The trick, right…”

God, I was two seconds away from bursting into flames like a phoenix. Was I still breathing?

“For your first time, you should— because this is your first time, right?”

“Yes!”

“You sure?”

“Roman!”

“Alright, alright!” Roman laughed, biting his lip as he tilted his head just a little. Had the cigarette not forced a space between us, I would’ve started wondering when he would kiss me. “The trick is to not inhale too much smoke for your first time. I don’t want you to cough up your left lung on my new shirt. And hold the smoke in your mouth for a moment, let it cool down, and only inhale it when you’ve taken the cig out of your mouth.”

If Roman one day actually did decide to write a smoking-guide, I could at least be sure the content would be explained simply and concisely. “Seems easy enough,” I mumbled, watching Roman’s pupils widen as I placed the cigarette back between my lips and sucked in a small amount of smoke into my mouth.

It felt like I was getting a mild burn on my tongue— it wasn’t pleasant. For a second, I got scared my eyes would pop from the shock, and I closed them to ensure the blood at least wouldn’t splatter anywhere if I happened to be so unlucky. But when the burning subsided, I finally dared to inhale.

My eyes sprung open, meeting the fascination in Roman’s green gaze as my previous headache caused by the loud music disappeared. My brain suddenly felt like it was buzzing with pleasure and energy. Before I knew it, I was half giggling against Roman’s mouth, letting my cigarette-clad hand fall by my side. “Wow,” I breathed, in awe of the satisfying whirring in my head. 

Roman looked like he was two seconds away from cooing at me, right in my face; “There you go, good girl,” he purred. “Do you get it now?”

God, I hated myself. Still, what I hated more, was that my hot ex-boyfriend was blatantly right. “I think I do,” 

Roman hummed, smirking as he reached for the cigarette in my hand, smoothly brushing his fingers across my skin on his way down. With a content sigh, he looked into my dazed eyes as he pressed his free fingers over the pulse of my wrist— “I still make your heart jump,” he breathed, leaning in so close I could feel the hotness of his breath against my cheek.

I swallowed. “You always will. It doesn’t mean anything,” My eyes flickered back and forth between Roman’s green eyes and his plush, pink lips despite knowing I shouldn’t. 

“It doesn’t?” he echoed, visibly amused as he raised his brows. 

“… Nope,”

Roman hummed, nudging the tip of my nose with his just as he always did—was this maybe just a habit, or was he going to…? The atmosphere was so thick, I could reach out and touch it. My breath had long caught in my chest, but Roman’s next words only made it worse; “Let’s talk about sex again,” he whispered against my lips, his lashes hanging heavy over his eyes.

“No. This is over. We’re just sharing a cigarette,”

“We could share a bed too,”

“Stop it,” I breathed, hoping he’d spot the desperation in my eyes. “It’s been two months. Aren’t you over this?” Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.

Roman stilled. With the next beat of my pulse against his fingers, his eyes softened with a new realization beneath the moonlight; 

“Over you? Never,”

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

A couple of requests

"And this is our red witch?"

You were yanked out of your ordinary environment. You were yanked out of your house. And where were you teleported exactly?

Crawling out of fire was never a pleasant experience.

"Agatha!…" Fuck, you were getting angry. "Agatha!…" You could feel fireball forming in your palm.

"Hey! Is Harkness the only one who deserves your attention?"

You turned around as quickly as you could. That voice was familiar. That tone was close.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Out of the trees silhouette emerged. not even a second, a fleeting instant - you recognized her immediately.

"You've got something on your shoulder." Shoulder, really Rio? You shrugged, too close to your neck.

"Don't."

Oh, you didn't sound confident, Rio noticed. Rio smirked. Of course she did. Centuries you were apart and she still could read you like an open book.

____

"Did you miss me?"

You almost jumped. You forgot whether it was voice of your nightmares or dreams.

Well, the voice sure was as sultry as you remembered it to be. Not only that. You remembered all too well her obsession with a very specific silhouette, with open skin, with accent on her arms.

Rio knew you were looking at her. You were thinking about her.

You tried to keep your eyes focused on her. But it didn't work. Suddenly you stopped.

"Why are you here?"

You didn't allow Rio to get closer. Golden was your protective halo.

"Because of you." Rio was always straightforward. Even after all these years. "Not that easy to track you down. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the affort with the cover and protective spells. Clearly you were thinking about me, baby. Just not in a way I want it."

___

"I'm fine."

Of course, you were not. Your clothes was wet with your own blood. Shard of glass was bigger than you thought. And sharper, clearly sharper.

"I could…"

"Jen, I'm fine."

You let others move faster, you let them out of your sight. Potions were not good enough in this situation. You couldn't heal yourself, the only other option was… no, it wasn't an option.

You couldn't focus on the road. Pain was too much, tension was too much, moving was too much. Your own body wasfinally betraying you. You groaned.

"I definitely like this sound. But not in this circumstances."

Rio appeared just in time to help you keep the balance.

"I'm fine."

You were not strong enough to fight her hands on you.

"Yeah, I already heard that."

You leaned against Rio's shoulder. You didn't want to owe her anything. You were close, dangerously close.

Not now, not after everything. You were losing yourself on the road. You almost closed your eyes.

It was enough for her to barely wave a hand. Wound disappeared in an instant. You inhaled sharply and immediately pushed Rio away.

"You shouldn't have done that." Your whisper hit her harder than any trial. "It doesn't change anything."

"I know."

___

This coven was the worst thing you could imagine. Lunatics, has beens, humans, teens. But the worst thing - your ex-lover. You forgot at what point fucking death was a good idea.

Of course you were flooded with memories, with emotions, with tingling in your body. Fuck. You hated it here. Road was never even supposed to exist. You were not sure what spell chose you, but sure as hell Rio influenced it.

"We need to move quicker. Do you understand the meaning of this word." Agatha's voice was annoying as ever. You praised gods for living without her disturbance for so many years. Nothing was fine, while Harkness was around.

"Thief." You muttered. "What did you say, dear?" Lilia was close. Semblance of a companion at least. You bond appeared such a long time ago. "Nothing". You caught Rio's glance. Thief would be a too generous word for Death.

___

All the walking, all the fighting, all the arguing. Those witches were everything but the coven. Still rest andfire were universally accepted. Stories of the old glory were never part of your routine. You needed a practice of protections spells, you needed to think.

The last thing you wanted was to be a part of the old memory between women who hated each other. You tried to change path, but everything was too loud, as if the road itself amplified the voices.

"You took him!"

You've never heard Agatha like this. You yourself caused many cries of agony, but this one was different.

"He was never even yours." how did Rio manage to stay calm and distant?

"He was always mine, I created him."

"You cheated. And you know you cannot cheat me."

That was true. You were cursed while trying to do exactly that, while trying to live a life of pretended normalcy.

___

Of course you knew about history between Agatha and Rio. You were jealous at first. Even of the memory of them together.

But Rio managed to calm you down. You met ages after that affair. There was no reason for you not to believe she was yours. After the fight with Agatha something changed. Rio wasn't with you anymore. On her own she was wondering the woods,for brief moments appearing during vital moments.

You knew this Rio once, not for long.

"You're letting Agatha have all the fun." You didn't have to cheer her up. But… you cared. And it was betternot to upset death itself.

"More fun for her, more bodies for me. It always worked that way."

"Even with Nicholas."

Silence was awkward and not welcomed. You sat near her.

"You were the only one who refused this deal."

"And still you stayed."

Painfully soft. Painfully obvious. Painfully full of affection.

"It wasn't enough, was it?"

"It was always too much."

Of course, it was. It was Rio, all about Rio. Even now she wanted to grab you, to possess, to devour. You could practically feel the struggle in her mind. But she chose to be tender.

[galesleftearring]

Sleep Well

Gale x Reader (Baldur's Gate 3)

Rating: Explicit. 18+ only.

CW: AFAB reader, no pronouns or names used. Graphic descriptions of oral sex. Mentions of p.i.v.

Since I hit 69 followers on this blog, you all voted if I should celebrate by writing something, and I did. Enjoy! This is my first time writing for Gale and I don't expect it to be my last.

Gale sighed and put down the book he'd been reading. He yawned and stretched like a cat, his fingers finding your hairline and gently stroking. "Shall we go to bed, my love?"

You nuzzled your cheek into his thigh where you lay. "Mm, I think I could stay like this forever."

He chuckled, tracing the line of your cheekbone with his thumb.

"As could I, but we have a long day of travel ahead of us. We need to be well rested for whatever tomorrow will bring."

You pouted, nestling your face further into his lap. "But I'm so comfortable here," you complained, only half in jest. "And I'm not sleepy."

Gale sighed. "The rest of camp is surely asleep by now. We have already stayed up a bit too late reading. We should-"

You cut him off. "Well, if the others are all asleep..."

You turned your head ever so slightly, meeting his warm gaze. You could get lost in those deep brown eyes. The look in them was one of pure adoration, no secrets swimming in their depths. From the moment he had confessed his love to you, any reservations he had held had melted away at the assurance of your hand in his. He loved you.

A smile teased at his lips. "Oh, I see. Perhaps you want me to, erm, wear you out? Make sure you sleep well tonight?"

You nodded, blushing slightly.

He hummed approval, easing you off of his lap as he pulled off his tunic. His broad chest, tattoo tracing its way from his heart to his cheek, was softly illuminated in the candlelight.

"Come here." His voice was thick with arousal, somewhere between an order and a plea. He could have been begging, he could have been demanding. You stood, shucking off your own nightclothes, before kneeling, straddling his head, but not lowering yourself fully. Close enough for him to smell your arousal but not letting him taste you yet.

He groaned, hands rising to your hips as though to pull you onto him, hold you steady while you rode his tongue as you had many times before.

You grasped his fingers before he could pull your hips down, close the distance between your slick cunt and his warm mouth. He let out a small whine of protest. He was hungry for you.

"Is this what you want?" You teased, "do you want me to sit down? Do you want to taste me?"

Gale let out a low moan. "You know that's all I want, all I've ever wanted. I crave your nectar." So poetic, even with his pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed.

"Then you're going to have to let me taste you first." A wicked grin spread across your face as you lifted up, gently pushing his hands down to his sides.

"My love, you know you never have to--that I never expect you to--Aah!" Gale gasped sharply as you unlaced his breeches and pulled them down, exposing his already hard cock to the night air filling his tent. Running a finger up the vein on the underside, you smiled. "Good boy, already so hard for me. You know exactly what I want, don't you?"

Pressing a kiss to the head, you scooted down so that you were resting on your stomach between Gale's thighs. You knew that if you didn't take him like this, he would be content to make you cum against his mouth again and again, only seeking his own pleasure once you were a mewling mess begging for him to fill your sensitive, twitching pussy. You loved that about him--how could you not be damn near addicted to such a generous lover?

But as delightful as it was to watch him shudder with desire just from giving you orgasm after orgasm, you found that there was a very real part of you that wanted to do the same for him. Make him squirm and whimper your name, bucking his hips into your hand as you stroked him. Take his cock into your mouth until you were choking on it, tears streaming down your face. See, you would think, see how completely undone I am for you? How I worship you every bit as much as you worship me?

This was one of those nights. Just as you were lowering your head about to start sucking at his cock, Gale placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you. "No, not like this."

Immediately, you sat up. "What's wrong? We can stop if you're uncomfortable or too tired or--"

He cut you off with a low laugh.

"No, no. What you were about to do is.... delightful. Please, do not think that the feeling of your lips around me does not drive me wild. It does, most assuredly. I simply want--I still want to taste you. In fact, I'd prefer to taste you while you do that, if it's all the same to you."

You felt your eyes widen. "Absolutely," you choked out, "I would love that."

Rising from between his legs, you crouched above his face once more, this time facing his crotch. The moment you lowered yourself fully onto Gale's lips, his cock twitched and a small bead of precum bloomed from the tip.

You rocked your hips slightly against him, the friction sending jolts of pleasure along your clit. Moaning, you leaned forward, gently pulling his thighs toward you for balance. With his feet flat on his bedroll, Gale spread his legs. You bent forward, taking his tip into your mouth and licking the precum from it. Gently, you flicked your tongue across the slit there, widening the circle until you were tracing the flare at the base of the head with just your tongue.

He moaned into you and the vibration of the sound made you let out a whine of your own, muffled by your mouthful of cock.

As your pace quickened, the careful patterns Gale had been tracing along your folds became more frenzied. His fingers, usually so gentle, dug into the flesh of your hips as he pulled himself deeper into you, tongue flicking into your vagina with a desperation you'd never felt from him before, even on your first few nights together. If you hadn't had your mouth full, you thought you would have been screaming his name.

Instead, you moaned louder against his shaft as your head bobbed, taking every inch of him if only to stifle the sounds he was rending from you as he tonguefucked you. It was too much. You came with a gasp, needily grinding against his chin as he kept licking and sucking you through your orgasm.

Even though you had stopped working him as you came, the sound and taste of your orgasm sent him rutting up into your mouth again, rougher this time, thrusting up into your mouth while you held your head still and came down from your high. He was close, you could tell from his whimpers that he was about to spill. Once you could breathe again, you pulled a hand from his leg and began to stroke him, his shaft slick with your spit, as you ran your tongue along the head. Faster, faster, until he came, his load spilling down your throat with a beautiful moan.

You swallowed, your throat contracting as you licked the last of his cum from his still twitching dick.

Gingerly, you rolled off of him and resituated so that you were lying on the bedroll beside him, your faces only inches apart. Gale rolled onto his side and kissed you, deeply, sloppily. You tasted yourself on his tongue and knew he must taste the salty tang of his semen in your mouth as well.

Satisfied and slightly out of breath, he pulled back. "Was that...what you...had hoped for?" He gasped.

"Oh Gale," you murmured as you buried your face in his chest, "I don't even know where to start." Your eyelids were growing heavy with sleep.

Gale raised one big hand to cradle your face. "Start with sleep, my darling."

[graysnetwork]

i was watching Gilmore girls at the beginning of the year i think and then i suddenly got the urge to watch again, so i'm finally on the last episode of season 2. Im completely in love with Tristan but at the moment i'm loving jess (i also searched up jess edits on tiktok and i've spoiled things for myself so i will be debating on skipping that one scene)

Also Ik this is not the best but I hope u guys like it

Warnings— none

Summary— Jess is turning into a great student and Luke not lorelai can think of a reason he’s become an amazing kid all of a sudden.

The library

Two full weeks, two full weeks had gone by now and no calls from the school had been made to Luke's phone. This was more concerning than actually getting calls from the school. And another notable thing was that Jess started leaving every day at the same time 6:30 and he'd come back home at 9:30 or even earlier.

Luke was getting suspicious but he didn't exactly know how to bring it up since it was very possible he was cheating on his tests, maybe copying off some one else for work. So he decided he'd mention it another day, and every time that decided day came by he'd put it off again, and again.

the two of them were in the diner, it was surprisingly very quiet, there was only one person which was also surprising and then the person walked out. Jess started cleaning up the table before checking his watch.

6:15

He dropped the towel and rushed upstairs, he came back down with a backpack, had he been hiding that thing?

"where are you goin?" Luke asked, finally looking up from the counter “somewhere.” “what do you have in there?” “some things” he shrugged and opened the door, before he could even get one foot out the door he could hear Luke’s heavy steps get closer to him, he turned around again.

“What do you have in there” Luke said again, “why do you wanna know, it’s nothing important” Jess rolled his eyes and checked his watch again.

6:20

“I’ve never even seen you come outside with a backpack, and I need to know if you’re stealing things again” Luke gave him an annoyed stare, Jess unzipped the the bag and showed the books in his backpacks.

“Oh” Luke muttered, and looked over to the side “happy? Cause I need to get going” he zipped the bag up again. “where have you been going?” Luke sighed, it was time he got the truth.

“why do you wanna know?” Jess rolled his eyes again, “because I gotta know these things” another sigh came out of Luke, and Jess mumbled something. It took a good few minutes to get him to admit.

“I’m goin to the library”

He said it quietly but at least it was coherent.

———

“You’re late” you smiled as Jess sat down in front of you, “I know, I’m sorry, Luke wouldn’t let me go until I told him where I was going and what I was bringing” he smiled back at you and took out his books. “well, you’re here now, that’s what matters to me, now what’s today? math?” You smiled again and the two of you started opening your books.

“Today is math day” jess nodded and started reading your math notes.

———

“Jess, in the library? Is he meeting behind it and doing something?” Lorelai drank her coffee, “I didn’t think about that” Luke said as he gave her a doughnut.

The moment very quickly ended when Jess came in and quickly went upstairs without saying a word, Luke and Lorelai could hear the thud from Jess’s backpack hitting the floor.

Jess came back down and grabbed a doughnut; pink icing. Very weird to the two adults in the diner. Unknowing to them the only reason he grabbed it was because you swore that the pink icing on the doughnuts taste different.

———

“So anything new and interesting happening?” You asked as you and Jess walked around after studying, it was the quickest you’ve ever studied but that was because it was English, all jess had to do was read and write some answers.

“no, but, if you call getting a new shipments for the diner interesting, than yes, there something new happening” he smiled at you, “sounds very interesting” you smiled back at him.

“what about you?” Jess turned to you again “what about me? Nothing” you shrugged “cmon there’s gotta be something that’s happened so far this week” Jess said, “there’s nothing, nothings happened, and im 100 percent sure nothings gonna happen” you smiled again at him.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and smiled “how about I give you something to look forward to then since you’re free” Jess’s brows perked up, “really? how?” your hand reached up and grabbed his that was on your shoulder.

“how bout you, me, and chinese food, and we can do it on, Friday? You said your parents are leaving on Friday right?” He smiled as you two got closer to Luke’s diner.

“yeah, my parents are going on Friday.. that sounds like a plan” you smiled “it’s a date” he smiled. “Cmon I’ll walk you home” he walked past the diner “thanks Jess” you wrapped your arm around his waist as the two of you continued you way down the street.

-

“Did I see that right?” Lorelai’s eyes were wide and her brows were furrowed, “wow” Luke said, it was the only thing that could be uttered at the moment as they had just seen; You and Jess walking together.

“That must be why he’s going to the library so much! y/n’s always at the library!” Her mouth hung open in shock, it was silent for a few moments “y’know what, this is good” like said as he nodded while drinking his coffee.

“This is good?” She looked at him confused, “yes, he’s doing good in school, and it seems like he really likes y/n, as long as he isn’t hurting her, or doing bad things than I’m happy about this” Luke smiled “I guess this is good..” Lorelai smiled back at him.

———

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Same Team! A YJH Office Romance Pt. 3

Idol!Jeonghan x ProductionStaff!Reader

You’re serious about your job, but not as serious as Yoon Jeonghan is about flirting.

~1.4k words

Read Part 1 and Part 2

Series Content: slooowwwwww burn, fluff!, cute flirting!, will-they-won’t-they vibes!, tension!!, office crushes, office romance, appearances by all of the members, reader is shy and gets flustered easily!, jeonghan is jeonghan-ing!

My Masterlist

Author’s Note: Thank you all for reading! I’m having so much fun writing this. MC is so shy, and Jeonghan is so direct! My favorite dynamic!! Also, Jiyeon and Daein are completely fictional/not based on any idols! Jiyeon is kind of a stock mean-girl character, sorry! I’m looking forward to writing steamier interactions between Jeonghan and MC soon! <3

Taglist: @yeoberryx (lmk if you want to be added to my taglist!)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

“Y/N-shi.” One of the producers in the room said your name, bringing you out of your daydreaming.

You were in a scheduling meeting to arrange staff for several of the members’ upcoming overseas commitments. You were hopeful that you’d get to travel, though you doubted it. You weren’t exactly experienced, but you did have the fluent-in-English thing going for you. You’d mentioned that you could get by with pretty decent French and Italian, too. So, of course, you were imagining a... business trip with Jeonghan...

“Yes!” you said quickly.

“How do you feel about traveling?”

“Traveling where?”

“Paris.”

“I feel good about it!” You answered politely—and super eagerly, eliciting some chuckles from the room.

“She’s so cute,” Daein said. You and Daein had gotten to know each other better, and when she wasn’t around Jiyeon she was much nicer to you. Still, you felt embarrassed for being overly eager.

“We wanted someone who could speak English and French well,” the producer added, “It’s Fashion Week.”

“Who’s attending this year?” someone asked.

“Mingyu-shi, Jun-shi, Joshua-shi,” another producer at the other end of the room looked through her list, “and Jeonghan-shi.”

You felt your face start to flush immediately.

“Mingyu-shi, Joshua-shi, and Jeonghan-shi will be booked on the same flight,” someone said, your heart pounding harder each time his name was mentioned, “Jun-shi will fly separately, directly from China.”

As the staff continued to fill you in on details... where you’d meet, what time you needed to be there, what to expect from CARATs gathered at the airport...

“The talent will have their own security,” another staff member assured you, “There’ll be a separate security check for us—to get to the gate faster. Most of the fans are perfectly respectful, but don’t hesitate to alert security if anything rings alarms or makes you uncomfortable.”

“Thank you,” you replied politely. “I’ll do my best.”

It had only taken a couple of months working with SEVENTEEN to really hit home that being famous was actually quite difficult. Everywhere they went, their fans seemed to be waiting. Even shoot locations that you knew weren’t made public—a few of them would show up no matter what. The members seemed to handle it graciously. At least, more graciously than you would have been in their position. Some of the fans were pretty intense, and didn’t seem to respect the members’ privacy. But it was a very small number. You’d only seen or heard any of the members get slightly annoyed at most, and only a handful of times.

But if Mingyu was on your flight, you knew the airport was going to be chaotic. He was very popular. And you understood why. He was extremely tall, gorgeous, not to mention very personable. He was easy to talk to, even though you were slightly intimidated at first. He enjoyed speaking English with you, which was nice.

“Y/N-shi,” the head coordinator was assigning details to each member, “you’ll be with Jeonghan-shi.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll be on his team of staff—each member will have their manager with them, two other staff for extra footage or vlog shooting, and their own security. You’ll be with Jeonghan-ah’s crew. Understood?”

“Yes!”

...What the hell? Was this really happening? Had you performed some saintly act in a past life? Why were you being bestowed with this kind of luck!?

“Great, we’ll send a car to pick you up at 4:00 AM that Thursday,” the coordinator in charge continued, “be sure you have your passport and at least two cocktail dresses—you’ll be attending the Yves Saint Laurent opening event on Friday, plus the runway show and afterparty on Saturday, so you’ll need appropriate attire. We can offer you a stipend to rent something when you get there if you don’t have anything.”

“Thank you!” and you bowed deeply. The other staff in the room chuckled.

“We’re counting on you,” the coordinator smiled at you.

-

The weeks seemed to drag on. You were so anxious and excited about the trip to Paris that you could hardly concentrate on anything else. You carried out your tasks with your usual efficiency, but your colleagues could tell you were just excited about getting to go to Fashion Week.

“I can’t understand why someone with such poor taste is going on this trip,” Jiyeon sneered as you were packing up equipment in the practice room. The members were gathering their things, sweaty from filming a dance practice video. Some of them were off in various corners doing other TikTok challenges. You were amazed at how quickly they could pick up choreography. You’d worked in entertainment for a long time, but it never stopped amazing you how fast good dancers were at that kind of thing. You hardly took notice of Jiyeon’s tone; you were so busy fantasizing about getting to spend so much time with Jeonghan.

“Hey!” she raised her voice just enough to get your attention, but not so much that it registered with the other staff or the members. You turned to her, trying to focus on whatever it is she needed to say, but still unable to contain your giddiness.

“Ugh,” she said, giving you a disgusted look, “don’t let Jeonghan-shi see you being so weird about this.”

“I don’t think she’s being weird.”

There he was, standing right behind Jiyeon. How had he gotten over here? Were you seriously so wrapped up in your own thoughts you hadn’t even seen him walk over to where you and Jiyeon were packing up?

Jiyeon looked like she was about to pass out, and you froze on the spot. Jeonghan was looking right at you, as always. His gaze never wavered when he was looking at you. You always loved it, even though it flustered you, but right now you were so ecstatic that he’d overheard her that it felt like you were floating above the ground.

“Ah! Jeonghan-shi!” Jiyeon put on her best smile, laughing off his remark. “Y/N-shi is always a little weird, we were just joking! Right, Y/N-shi?” You noted that it was the first time she’d bothered using honorifics with you. You didn’t really care, since honorifics weren’t really a thing at the companies you’d worked for in the past, and just not a huge deal in the U.S. at all. But you knew that her dropping them was technically a slight toward you.

“Right,” you said, putting on your best polite smile. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Jiyeon was rude, but she wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. Also, maybe you were being too weird about this trip. It was purely business... you were probably getting a little carried away. You couldn’t help but look down, worried now that you would creep him out.

“I’d never want to work with someone who wasn’t at least as weird as nuna,” Jeonghan said straightforwardly.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

“Ah, that’s Jeonghan-shi for you!” Jiyeon let out a strained laugh and went back to helping move the equipment, being sure to send you a pointed glare on her way toward the door.

You were left standing there with Jeonghan. You paused, and then bowed toward him.

“Thank you for saying that,” you said in the most formal voice possible. You were so flustered; you didn’t know what to say.

“What are you doing after this?” he asked. His voice was low and direct. 

“What?”

“Are you free right now?”

“...What?”

“I thought your Korean was supposed to be good, nuna.”

You stared at him. He was smiling softly. His gaze was gentle, but there was something mischievous in it. You felt as if your brain had force quit on you.

“Sorry, I... I don’t...” you were lost for words.

“Well, if you’re free after this, Joshua, Dino, and I are going to get some dinner,” he said, running a hand through his long hair. You imagined what it would feel like to run your own hand through it. While peeking up to look at his hair up close—a thing you rarely did, even though you’d had plenty of opportunities by now—your eyes met for a second, and for some reason you steeled yourself and held his gaze.

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes.” You said it without thinking, but the smile on his face nearly knocked you out.

“Good.”

[helslastangel]

Moon Conjunct Venus + Moon Trine Ascendant Synastry

Based on My Personal Experiences 🔞

This may not resonate for everyone, so if it doesn't hit, please let it miss. There are 18+ topics included this so minors, do not interact. 🔞

Their Moon conjunct your Venus

This aspect is wonderful if you're both feeling each other. They can and will read you like a book without even needing to turn the first page. If you've ever seen or been in one of those couples where the one person knew exactly what the other one wanted or needed, without ever discussing it, even once?

Yeah, those are the vibes here.

You will be loved exactly the way you want to be loved and if things don't work out, there is a good chance the breakup could leave you feeling destroyed for quite some time, even if you were never in a relationship.

This aspect can make it very difficult to be "just friends" if either person wants more from the connection.

But even platonic friends with this synastry aspect can be amazing. These are the kinds of friend that you give the spare keys to, can call at 4 in the morning whether for an emergency or just to sob about something stupid.

They are the ones you who can come over without calling first. In fact, you welcome it and aren't surprised to come home and find them asleep on your couch. Like this is the friend that you're more like family with if you're not in a romantic connection.

If you ever get in a mood and start talking about "everyone this" and "people always/never that," they aren't offended because it doesn't even cross their mind to think they're included in that pile.

There is no guarantee that things will always be perfect or work out with this placement, obviously it depends on factors in the whole chart and other things like time, place, circumstance, and so on.

Of course, anyone who can read you accurately has the ability to use that to manipulate and harm rather than help and support you, but that's a risk of life in general. All I'm saying is: with this aspect, when it's good, it's DAMN GOOD.

To give you an example, I had this synastry with a Scorpio moon several years ago (I'm a Scorpio Venus). We met at an event and hit it off so well that we were talking outside the venue for nearly 4 hours, annoying his friends and mine. Ended up bringing him home with me and I fully expected him to disappear into a cloud of dust the next day, but he didn't.

We didn't end up working out beyond friends with benefits, but he's NEVER been rude or unkind to me once. Extremely patient, always calm no matter what and very sweet to me whenever we run into each other somewhere in the city every couple of years.

The way he handled me emotionally was just beautiful, I can't think of another way to put it. Most of my friends at the time would ignore anything I did creatively - not him, he found one of my books and posted it on his story with a cute caption saying how much he loved intelligence and that he was proud of me. The type to show up in the rain and keep me company when I was sick (back when I lived alone), even though he had class, work and practice all that day. The first time we hooked up, I was getting my laundry together and wondering why he hadn't left yet. He picked up the bags talking about, "Nah I got 'em, lead the way to the laundromat, why would I leave you to do this by yourself."

TMI / TW (mentions of sexual activities, body fluids, menstruation/periods) so again, minors, get out of here and the rest of you proceed with caution or skip to the next paragraph.

He was very much empathetic and also body positive-absolutely nothing seemed to gross him out. I have so many examples, but let's go with something both extreme and spicy. I was bundled up, laying on his shoulder and trying to deal with menstrual cramps while we were watching a show and him going, "Oh you know I read somewhere that orgasms can ease those, may I?" I'm there like, may you what? sure?? I'm curious?? Next thing I know, he's got a towel down, yeets the tampon and dives in head first talking about "a period ain't stop nothing but a sentence." And, well? All I'll say is.. at least ONE man knows where the clit is! ibuprofen, who? where? 😂😈

Obviously that's a bit much if you're a vanilla type (but a Scorpio moon + Scorpio venus? baby we was freaks, what can I say? lmfao) but this is just an example I mention because the important part is not once did he bring up getting off himself. No hinting for a quickie or a BJ like you might expect. I even offered because I was used to guys doing seemingly selfless gestures only to be guilt-tripped shortly after, and he was just like, "Sorry, what? No, you're not feeling well, I wanted you to feel better, plus I don't need to get off all the time, I read it's healthy to ignore the urges sometimes." (Idk if you could tell, but he REALLY likes to read, loll).

That's what I'm talking about with the Moon-Venus conjunction. This kind of synastry will vary in the specific ways it's expressed of course, but all other things being equal, someone with their moon conjunct your venus will intuitively know what you want and need to feel loved, and it works because it blends very well with their own emotional needs. If the moon person tells you they enjoy doing something for you or with you without expecting anything in return, believe it. It sounds like a lie because of the types of people who would lie about that, but with this aspect, chances are they meant that shit.

Not only that, but you'll feel like you've known them for a long time. That's because you'll also understand their emotional expression on an intuitive level. This isn't as one-way as it could sound. Oh, no, not at all. You will feel like you've met before and find yourself making time and space, and finding energy for them even out of thin air. You could live in a tiny studio that you'd never share with anyone and then find yourself cleaning out your closet on a Sunday afternoon to "make a little space" for their extra work uniform or even as tiny as keeping an extra toothbrush, clearing a hook in the bathroom, keeping their favorite snacks in the fridge, stuff like that. You'll generally feel at home with each other and trust can build VERY quickly. Others could even wonder if you're okay, especially if you're normally a paranoid person.

With Scorpio moon guy, he accidentally left his wallet the first time he left my place and I called him when I found it. His response was "Oh I left it at yours? Oh good, that's okay then, I'll come get it at some point this week, let me know what days you'll be home". He knew me for less than 24 hours at the time, lol. 3 months later he had the door code to my place and there were two toothbrushes and two towels instead of one LOL, trust was never an issue and it certainly wasn't the reason we didn't work out either! We basically just couldn't really keep pace with each other because... we had a 6 year age gap. Completely different life stages. I have a feeling if we both were a lot older, it would have worked out. Literally nothing else was wrong with us.

Now, that was with me being the Venus (and Ascendant-see below) person. I'll be honest, as a Capricorn moon, I'm curious about how it would be if I meet a Capricorn venus romantically. I wonder how that would play out all the time, and I think I'll let that remain a mystery until it happens, then I'll hopefully still be blogging then and come back and tell yall about that too. THAT BEING SAID... I do have this aspect (as the moon person this time) with a platonic Capricorn venus friend I had for nearly 13 years. We would literally be in each other's houses (and hair and business lol) all the time. We had yearly festivals we always went to together, talked almost everyday, knew how each other was feeling before the other one would even say anything. Mopped each other up off the floor when going through shit. She punched a guy I was dating who cheated on me, and I introduced her to a mutual friend who I thought she might like to date, and then cussed the hell out of him when he didn't pull his weight like I thought he would. Things like that.

The friendship ended nearly 7 years ago but I miss her every day. I remember what happened, but in hindsight, it seems so foolish now and I miss her every single day. We would have been friends for 20 years by now and I don't have a lot of regrets in life, but that is one of them. She hurt me but I handled it so poorly both before and after she reached out to talk that it just destroyed the entire foundation of our friendship. I haven't even tried to get over it because I don't want to. To me, that would be just disrespectful, I feel like it's something I need to carry with me as a reminder to do better next time. I'm sure you see by now that this is a quite an intense and dynamic placement!

Bonus Observation:

Moon Trine Ascendant Synastry

If someone with their moon conjunct your venus ALSO has their moon trine your ascendant, WHEW that is hot. Not only will the emotional connection be strong, but they will find everything about you on the outside just as enticing as the inside.

They genuinely enjoy the way you express yourself and can have a lot of patience for any shenanigans you might get up to. These people will watch you from across a crowded room all evening and suddenly appear by your side just before you leave to tell you they think you're attractive and want to get to know the rest of you beneath the surface. And it's rarely ever creepy. They'll know just how to approach you. I've had this synastry aspect a few times and it's always been like that. Genuinely charming. Perfect rizz.

This kind of synastry, as I said earlier, will leave you in absolute shambles if things don't work out, especially if you don't encounter this synastry often in your connections. Personally, I'd consider this one of those aspects where one or both of you can feel like the other was a soulmate, or "the one that got away," and end up being celibate or single (if romantic), or becoming asocial (if platonic) for a long time after splitting up. That or cycling through a series of awful relationship and friendship rebounds in an attempt to find them in another person.

Not too much on me for this, but there's a country song by Colt Fold that I'd loved for half a decade now called 4 Lane Gone. I'm sure there are other songs out there that would capture this better, but this is the one that stuck with me.

Something about the way this artist captures the feeling. Wistful, you can tell dude is acting strong, but knows damn well a good thing just got royally fucked up. Maybe I'm just melodramatic (I'm water dominant after all), but have a listen and see if you get what I'm talking about.

Idk. From my experiences with these aspects (been lucky enough to experience it with more than one person), I'd say it gives a pretty good idea of how either side could feel when it ends. Probably more so the Moon person, though, as they're likely to react like this to either a) being the one to end the relationship prematurely and regret it, or b) being blindsided by the Venus/Ascendant person up and leaving, and taking so long to process and recover from the shock, that by the time they chase after them...they're...well...four lanes gone. Lol.

Lyrics

[Verse 1]

Been raining for three days

On the fast track to the highway

Trying to save a little time

Lord I never should have tried

Taking this back road shortcut

Now I’m way stuck, so sunk

I’ll never catch her now

So I just put the tailgate down

She’s probably somewhere doing 95

I got nothing but this cooler and time

[Chorus]

I cracked one waiting on a ride

Two or three just to pass the time

While she’s headed to a new town

And I’m too lost to be found

She probably thinks that I don’t care

Stuck in the rut in the middle of nowhere

And just my luck I’ll be here all night long

Man, I’m bummed out back road buzzed

And she’s four lane gone

Yeah she’s four lane gone

[Verse 2]

Every empty beer can makes me

Miss her like hell, man I can kick myself

For the place and the shape I’m in holding me back

Yeah my wheels keep on spinning

And she’s ticked off blacktop fast

[Chorus] x 1

[Bridge]

While I’m stuck here all alone

With a midnight natty light

One more chance I’ve blown

[Chorus] x 1

[Outro]

I’m out here all alone

Yeah she’s four lane gone

She’s four lane, four lane gone

Yeah she’s four lane gone

She’s four lane gone

[drysdalesworld]

“who is this? what’s his name? you know what, mark!”

luca fantilli x fem!reader

blurb based on the tiktok voicemail prank trend

“What do you want for dinner, babe? I was thinking fettuccine, but we don’t have any chicken so it’d just be the sauce and the noddles,” Luca asked, focus completely on the cook book in front of him.

The cook book was completely new and something that Luca hadn’t really touched before. His Mother decided to get him one once he had decided to move into the Sophomore house knowing that his cooking skills were very limited. The two of you had frequent dinner dates and his Mother thought it was a good idea to get him the book as she knew that you were the most experienced in the kitchen and didn’t want you cooking for the both of you all the time.

“That sounds good,” you replied, shooting him a gentle smile before redirecting your attention to the screen in front of you.

The smile on his face caused you get butterflies in your stomach, both from the jitteriness you experienced in your relationship and from the potential of ruining his happy mood.

Beats of silence passed by for a few moments as Luca moved from cabinet to cabinet to gather all the needed ingredients for the recipe. The domesticity of the entire situation made you not want to perform the prank and play the audio. But, you already made your mind up and genuinely wanted to see how he’d react to something like this.

You heavily sighed as you groaned out in fake frustration, dropping your phone onto the kitchen counter, the privacy screen blocking your boyfriend view of what truly was displayed on the screen.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Luca asked, shifting his body from the barely boiling water on the stove towards your figure, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and confusion.

You simply shook your head and gathered your phone back into your hands, resting your chin on your palm as you began the beginning stage of the prank.

“You know that psychology project I had a few weeks ago?” You asked, eyes focused on the screen in front of you.

Your boyfriend only simply hummed and nodded to himself as he crossed his arms and leaned on the side of the fridge next to him.

“Well, he won’t leave me alone. Like, he calls me all the time and leaves me a hundred voicemails. I haven’t listened to any of them though,” you continue, eyes darting up to gauge Luca’s reaction.

If he felt any anger or uncomfortableness, you couldn’t tell as he simply urged you to continue from where he stood, “Play the last one he left you”.

You bit your lip in anticipation as you hit record and play on the audio.

It looked like Luca couldn’t believe what he was hearing as the audio continued. His whole face contorted into something that you couldn’t quite exactly place, eyes narrowing and lips pursing as he listened.

As the audio was nearing its end, Luca interrupted, cheeks slightly pink, “Who is this dude? What’s his name? Wait, let me get Mark. Mark!”

The minute Marks name left your boyfriends lips, you let out a laugh as you tried so desperately to not give up the act just yet.

“What? What’s up?” Mark called out, stumbling down the stairs as he entered the kitchen. He looked completely disheveled, probably woke up from his nap when Luca began calling his name.

“You and I are going to knock some sense into this dude bothering (Y/N),” Luca replied, turning off the stove before quickly grabbing his phone and keys.

Mark quickly looked between you and Luca as he tried to gather what the hell was going on, sleep still evident in his eyes.

“Luca, no. You don’t even know where he lives!” You countered, turning off your phone as you tried to convince your boyfriend of finding this fake dude. “It’s a joke! It’s a trend on TikTok. It’s all fake I swear!”.

The look Luca gave you was one of a wounded puppy, completely surprised at what you just did.

“A prank?” He asked, phone and keys still tightly clasped in his hands, “Babe, you scared the shit out of me. I thought I had to go hunt this guy down and kick his ass for speaking to you like that”.

He sounded relieved, head shaking as he visibly relaxed at the information you told him.

“You woke me up to beat some imaginary dude?” Mark groggily asked, body in the same position he was in as he first rushed into the kitchen, “I was in the middle of a nap, man!”.

You could only laugh as Luca and Mark began bickering at how Mark shouldn’t be the first one Luca thinks of for beating someone up while Luca disagreed.

You could only shake your head as you stood up from your place at the counter, quickly saving the video before turning the stove back on and getting started on the dinner Luca completely forgot about.

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters as Mall Santas

Mall Santas are volunteers who spend time talking to little kids in malls so that the kids' parents can take pictures and the kids can "meet Santa." If Cosmere characters worked as mall Santas, how would that go?

1. Wax

Was very excited and created an elaborate backstory with Steris...which he'll get to use one of these days...

Small child: But how do you fly all over the world in just one night? Wax: Ho ho ho! It's because Santa has access to duralumin! Small child: Du..ba..lura? Wax: ... Wax: Ho ho ho! It's magic! Small child: Yay! Wax (to himself): It'll work on one of these kids...

2. Shallan:

Thanks to her artistic talents and lightweaving, Shallan turns herself into the quintessential Santa Claus.

Small child: Mommy! Mommy! I think that might be the REAL Santa! Mother (in a whisper): I-I think so too...

3. Lightsong

Grumbled about it at first but ends up having a really good time.

Lightsong: You know, Scoot, you were right. Lightsong: Doing this is good for me. Lightsong: It's so great to listen to requests that don't require my death! Lightsong: AND I can talk to children without having to steal their souls! Scoot: ...You really shouldn't talk about your divine duties that way, Your Grace. Lightsong: I'm just saying--this is VERY refreshing!

4. Szeth

Gets a little...too concerned about whether kids have been naughty or nice.

Nightblood: Sure were a lot of kids who cried after talking to you. Szeth: Mm. Nightblood: The parents also didn't seem super thrilled that you "made the naughty children face their darkest sins." Szeth: I simply spoke the truth. Szeth: If I see a small child pull his sister's hair and say nothing, what kind of Santa am I? Nightblood: ...The kind who doesn't make children cry? Szeth: Exactly.

5. Marsh

Is a...well, listen. He tries. But he's a scary Santa.

Marsh: ... Marsh: ... Marsh: I can't believe there are NO kids in line. Marsh: I hung ornaments on my eye spikes and everything.

6. Kaladin

Gets somewhat...invested

Small child: An' what I REALLY want is for daddy to come home! Small child: I know he's gotta keep us safe fighting but I really miss him! Small child: [sniffles] Kaladin: ... Kaladin (in an intense whisper): It will now be my sole mission to... Syl: (clears her throat loudly) Kaladin: ... Kaladin: I-I mean, Santa knows that your dad is working hard and will make sure he gets a very special present this year! Small Child: Yay! Kaladin: ... Kaladin: I know I can't save every child...but can't I save them all a little?

7. Vin

If you've read the Discworld books, think Death from Hogfather

Mother: D-Did you just give my daughter a pair of glass daggers?? Vin: Yeah. It's what she asked for. Mother: That's dangerous! Vin: ...Well, yes. They're daggers. Mother: What if she hurts herself?? Vin: Tell her to turn the pointy ends toward other people. [Small girl runs by, waving the daggers overhead and screaming] Vin: I think she already gets it.

8. Lift

She's one of the elves, not Santa, but she takes her role very seriously. And her role, as she's decided it, is to coach the kids in line.

Lift: Listen: talkin' to Santa is fun 'n' all, but it's not the REAL point. Small child: It's...not? Lift: Nope! You're tryin' to tell your parents want you want AND you're tryin' to be so storming cute about it that they can't possibly say no. Small child: But I thought Santa-- Lift: Just trust me on this. You gotta go wide eyes, adorable smile, and say "please" as "pwease." Lift: You got this, champ! Wyndle: I-I don't even know where to start...

9. Wayne:

Makes sure the kids get what they wish for

Wayne: Okay, folks, that was a productive day! Wayne: We gotta hit the stores SOON and make sure we get EVERY item on this list delivered! Guy dressed as an elf: You...you know you're not really Santa, right? Wayne: How can you say that?? Wayne: Don't you SEE my hat?!

10. Cultivation

Does not give the kids what they ask for...she gives them what they need.

Small child: And I want an axehound puppy! Cultivation: [solemnly pulls an item from her sack] Cultivation: For you I have...a stick that looks a lot like a sword. Small child: !!!! Small child: [shrieking with delight] Cultivation: Nailed it again.