#filed under: visual.

[monochromeblend]

fluorescent shrimp

[lilflowerpot]

Hi! Hope ur well, just wondering how the galra would feel about ivf and surrogate mothers and such things.

Also, would diabazaal have had any other religious groups or did they have one decided belief

I've actually addressed both Imperial surrogacy, and the Empire's major religious groups (along with a follow-up regarding various funerary rites) before!

I know my blog has rather a lot to comb through at this point, but for those of you not in the know, I //am// a meticulous tagger, so you can notably narrow down my posts to just the worldbuilding ones if you take a gander at #galra history & culture!

[superfamiblog]

Tokimeki Memorial/Heartthrob Memorial (Konami, 1996). English translation patch by translated.games

[idealization-vn]

Planning to drop Felix’s new official sprite sometime tomorrow <3 y’all ever since I switched majors I learned anatomy and it’s the weirdest thing to look at the OG sprites holy shit

Also Happy new year!! 🎈 🎉

[bedaeho]

@daezed_ pjs and coffee kind of day.

[thunderlina]

In the wake of the TikTok ban and revival as a mouthpiece for fascist propaganda, as well as the downfall of Twitter and Facebook/Facebook-owned platforms to the same evils, I think now is a better time than ever to say LEARN HTML!!! FREE YOURSELVES FROM THE SHACKLES OF MAJOR SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS AND EMBRACE THE INDIE WEB!!!

You can host a website on Neocities for free as long as it's under 1GB (which is a LOT more than it sounds like let me tell you) but if that's not enough you can get 50GB of space (and a variety of other perks) for only $5 a month.

And if you can't/don't want to pay for the extra space, sites like File Garden and Catbox let you host files for free that you can easily link into NeoCities pages (I do this to host videos on mine!) (It also lets you share files NeoCities wouldn't let you upload for free anyways, this is how I upload the .zip files for my 3DS themes on my site.)

Don't know how to write HTML/CSS? No problem. W3schools is an invaluable resource with free lessons on HTML, CSS, JavaScript, PHP, and a whole slew of other programming languages, both for web development and otherwise.

Want a more traditional social media experience? SpaceHey is a platform that mimics the experience of 2000s MySpace

Struggling to find independent web pages that cater to your interests via major search engines? I've got you covered. Marginalia and Wiby are search engines that specifically prioritize non-commercial content. Marginalia also has filters that let you search for more specific categories of website, like wikis, blogs, academia, forums, and vintage sites.

Maybe you wanna log off the modern internet landscape altogether and step back into the pre-social media web altogether, well, Protoweb lets you do just that. It's a proxy service for older browsers (or really just any browser that supports HTTP, but that's mostly old browsers now anyways) that lets you visit restored snapshots of vintage websites.

Protoweb has a lot of Geocities content archived, but if you're interested in that you can find even more old Geocities sites over on the Geocities Gallery

And really this is just general tip-of-the-iceberg stuff. If you dig a little deeper you can find loads more interesting stuff out there. The internet doesn't have to be a miserable place full of nothing but doomposting and targeted ads. The first step to making it less miserable is for YOU, yes YOU, to quit spending all your time on it looking at the handful of miserable websites big tech wants you to spend all your time on.

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

I Died For You [A Malevolent Animatic]

Voice acting and audio by @malevolentcast , who very generously sent me this audio file to use for this animatic. Thank you for creating such a beautiful show.

Background and details under cut

I began this animatic early last year after finding the audio on TikTok. Once I heard it, I was immediately struck with the thought of how those first couple of weeks in the Dark World would be for John immediately after Season 2. It seemed perfectly fitting, how John might be tortured by his guilt and uncertainty if Arthur was even still alive, and that torment would only aid his regression to his more… Kingly qualities.

I began to draft the thumbnails of the animatic in my sketchbook before transferring it to my digital workspace, which was incredibly intimidating at the time. This was my first independent animatic. In last year’s InvictusCon, Harlan popped into my stream as I was explaining my animatic thought process to my viewers, shaking with both excitement and terror. I was stunned when he offered to voice it himself. The next day, he sent me the audio file. To this day, I am still stunned he spent so much time and effort to create something. It was the encouragement I needed to finish a longer-form animatic. It may be only a minute and some change, but this is a whole year of my life condensed - my obsession, my adoration, my passion for not only this podcast but for art in general, both visual and audio.

It’s by happy accident that I finished this right at the cusp of the Season 5 finale. It almost perfectly slots in. So… let’s all pretend that this animatic took me a month to do rather than the year I spent sweating on my couch and complaining about the number of times I forgot Arthur’s wooden finger.

[morsostium]

( misc. ) tag drop !

[legacywritten]

updated ( misc. ) tags !

[expressflamebunny]

This is a venting post, but I'm okay with people responding if they feel inclined.

Long story short: I'm struggling with facing the blank page and deciding what to work on. I only have myself to blame for this.

Prior to getting hyperfixated on a certain anime, I was starting to plan out a visual novel. I had some loose outlines, rough character sketches, as well as things link Pinterest boards and short Spotify playlists for the main characters. As someone who majored in English, is a web developer by trade, and has some small artistic ability, I thought this would be a good way to stretch myself. As an aside, I wasn't actually planning to try and make money off of my VN if I had succeeded in making it in part because it would be my first one, and thus wouldn't be very good, and also because my art isn't professional enough to sell IMO. I was starting to get into the habit of sitting down to work on the planning phase of it every night and was trying to get myself to shift into the writing phase. This was over a year ago.

At which point I allowed myself to get distracted from my original project idea by getting hyperfixated on a certain anime that will remain unnamed but should be obvious from my profile pic if you're familiar with it. I stopped thinking about my original work and started focusing much more on this anime along with fan fic ideas for it. My attempt to get into the habit of sitting down to do some creative work for myself daily also fell apart at this time.

Just to be clear, I don't blame that anime for this happening. The only one I have to blame for this is myself.

I want to try and get into the habit of doing some creative work on a daily basis, but I'm struggling to pick what to work on. I've completely lost momentum on my VN, but I have some fan fic ideas kicking around in my head, and then there's plenty of other abandoned original ideas of mine that I could try and return to as well.

While I do think that writing fanfic can be good writing practice and what not, I find that I'm hesitant to write it myself in part because it kind of feels like I'm neglecting my own children to fawn over the cool celebrity kids when I do. At the same time, I'm just not feeling the passion for my own original story ideas, and I do acknowledge that there are benefits to writing fanfic. I'm not used to other people looking at my work, and I think it's safe to say that it will be a lot easier to get people to read and give me feedback on a fanfic that I post than on an original work.

Anyways, I should probably be sleeping and not posting to Tumblr at the moment. This post is probably a bit incoherent due to writing it when I should be sleeping.

[moluvies]

celestial alignment ꔛ armin arlert x reader (pt. 2)

a/n: the banners just get weirder.... part two to in your orbit but idk if u need to read that one to understand this one lmao 😝🙏 #idk why this one is so much longer than part one but yolo

words: 9.6k

cw: nerd!armin, college au, she/her pronouns and fem anatomy for reader, fwb (kinda) to lovers, confessions, smut, blowjobs, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, MDNI !!

ꔛ

The morning after the party, Armin woke with a pounding headache and fragments of memories that made his face burn crimson against his pillow. But even through the haze of his first-ever hangover, he couldn't bring himself to regret a single moment of what had happened between you.

Three weeks had passed since that night, and your astronomy project had become both the most productive and least efficient academic endeavor of Armin's college career. What should have been straightforward work sessions frequently dissolved into lingering touches, stolen kisses, and eventually, hurried excuses to abandon the library study room for somewhere more private.

Armin frequently worked shifts at his part-time job at the cinema on top of being the project leader. It was confusing to you how he had time to do anything besides work and school, but he managed to play an unhealthy amount of games and watch an embarassing amount of anime whenever he got the chance.

That was, unless you were around. After your hookup at the frat party in Jean's room (something Armin would never allow him to know), you and him had spent a considerable amount of time together.

You continued working on the project together, the other members eventually showing up to the meetings Armin hosted, but things were obviously different than they had been—and no, Armin did not regret anything.

In fact, he'd shown you how little he regretted the encounter many times since then. He'd act as though he wanted your special input on the project when he invited you over, only to not keep his hands to himself the entire time you'd be at his place.

You'd sat beside him at the desk in his room, looking at his PC where you were looking over the slides and ideas from your groupmates.

"This one's just ridiculous," he said, his chin rested in his hand. "I suppose graphic design doesn't come easy to everyone."

"I don't know," you teased, "that neon green and purple combo really makes the statistical analysis pop, don't you think?"

Armin groaned, running his fingers through his blonde hair. "It's physically painful to look at. I'm going to have to redo this entire section before submission."

"Always the perfectionist," you said, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"Someone has to be." He clicked through a few more slides, his knee occasionally brushing against yours under the desk. "Otherwise we'd be presenting with clip art and Comic Sans."

You reached for the mouse, your hand briefly covering his. "Let me show you mine."

Armin leaned back in his chair, watching you navigate through the shared folder. You could feel his eyes on you rather than the screen, that subtle attention he'd been giving you since the party. It made concentrating on the project increasingly difficult.

"Here," you said, opening a new file. "This is what I was working on last night."

Armin's casual expression shifted as he leaned forward, eyes widening slightly as he reviewed your slides. The casual criticism vanished as he scrolled through your work.

"(Y/N), this is..." he paused, scanning the detailed analysis you'd prepared. "This is really good. The way you've visualized the data is exactly what we needed."

You felt a flush of pride at his genuine appreciation. "Yeah? I spent way too long on it, honestly."

"It shows." He turned to face you, his expression softened. "You didn't have to go this in-depth."

"Well, you're not the only perfectionist around here."

The corner of his mouth twitched up into that half-smile you'd grown increasingly fond of. His eyes dropped briefly to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

"I think we deserve a break," he said quietly.

Without waiting for your response, he leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand coming up to rest against your cheek. Unlike the urgent, heated kisses you'd shared before, this one was gentle, appreciative—sweet in a way that made your heart flutter unexpectedly.

When he pulled back, his thumb traced your cheekbone lightly. "Sorry," he murmured, not looking sorry at all. "I've been wanting to do that since you walked in."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "You don't have to say sorry anymore, Armin. Not for that."

His smile widened, and he leaned in again, this time catching your lips with more confidence. The kiss deepened slowly, his fingers tangling gently in your hair as he pulled you closer. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the way his lips curved against yours when you smiled into the kiss.

One of your hands found its way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss further. His other hand slid down to your waist, thumb brushing against the exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. The touch sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you let out a quiet hum against his lips.

Armin pulled back just enough to look at you, his cheeks slightly flushed, eyes bright with affection—and something else, something warmer. "You're distracting," he murmured, his voice low.

"Me?" you teased, nipping lightly at his lower lip. "You're the one who started this."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your mouth as he kissed you again, slower this time, savoring it. His fingers traced idle patterns along your side, his touch feather-light but enough to make your breath hitch.

Just as you were about to shift closer, a loud bang rattled the door, followed by an exasperated shout.

"ARMIN!" Connie's, Armin's roommate and friend you had met a few times and who was always nice if not a little wild, voice carried through the wood, sharp and impatient. "I swear to god, if you don't get your ass out here and deal with the dishes, I'm throwing them all in your bed!"

Armin groaned, dropping his forehead against yours with a defeated sigh. "I told Sasha to clean them last night."

You bit back a laugh, watching as he reluctantly pulled away, his expression torn between irritation and lingering amusement.

"I'm not kidding, man!" Connie banged on the door again. "Sasha refuses to touch them, and I'm not doing it! You live here too!"

Armin exhaled sharply through his nose, casting you an apologetic glance. "I should probably... handle this before he actually follows through."

You grinned, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "Go. Save your bed from dishware."

Armin sighed dramatically but pushed back from the desk, giving you one last lingering glance before heading toward the door. "I'll be right back," he muttered, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

You turned back to the slides, clicking through them with half-hearted focus, but without Armin beside you, the work suddenly felt dull. The silence of the room—now free of his quiet murmurs and occasional frustrated sighs—made the minutes drag.

Bored.

After a few more lackluster attempts at editing, you finally gave up, pushing the chair back and stretching before wandering out of the room. The sound of running water led you to the kitchen, where Armin stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, scrubbing at a stubborn plate with a sponge. His hair was pushed messily behind his ears, slightly damp at the temples from the steam rising from the hot water.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy muttering under his breath about "Sasha’s stupid cereal bowl crusted like cement." The sight was unfairly endearing—his brows furrowed in concentration, the way his forearms flexed slightly as he scrubbed, the way his lips pursed when he was annoyed but trying not to complain too loudly.

Leaning against the doorframe, you crossed your arms and just watched for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"You know," you finally said, making him jump slightly, "I didn’t take you for the domestic type."

Armin turned, blinking at you in surprise before his expression softened into something playful. "And yet here I am, saving our apartment from a dish-based apocalypse." He flicked soapy water in your direction, grinning when you yelped and dodged.

"You’re terrible," you laughed, stepping closer.

He smirked, rinsing off the last plate before setting it in the drying rack. "But you’re still here, so I must be doing something right."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, moving to stand beside him. Without thinking, you reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair back behind his ear, fingers lingering just a second too long.

Armin's cheeks flushed a soft pink as he dried his hands on a dish towel, hesitating for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Uh—so," he started, avoiding your eyes for a second before forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I was thinking... I have free tickets to the movies. Since I work there. And—well—I was wondering if you'd... maybe... want to go? Sometime?"

The words tumbled out in a rush, and he cringed slightly at how awkward it sounded.

"But—!" He held up a hand, suddenly looking panicked. "Not just because it's free. I mean, it is free, but that's not—that's not the point." He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before trying again.

"What I'm trying to say is... I'd like to take you. On a date. If you want."

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the towel, his expression caught somewhere between hopeful and terrified.

You grinned, stepping closer and nudging his shoulder with yours. "Armin Arlert," you said, voice teasing but warm, "are you asking me out on a proper date?"

He swallowed hard, then nodded, a shy smile finally breaking through. "Yeah. I am."

You pretended to think about it for a dramatic second, tapping your chin—just long enough to watch his shoulders tense in anticipation—before grinning.

"Obviously, yes."

The relief that washed over his face was instant, his whole posture relaxing as he let out a breathy laugh. "Really?"

You rolled your eyes, reaching out to tug lightly at his sleeve. "Yes, really. I'd love to go on a date with you."

His smile was brighter than you'd ever seen it, boyish and genuine. "Good. Great. I—uh—I'll figure out the details. Make it... nice."

You couldn't resist. Leaning in, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling back before he could react.

"Looking forward to it."

Armin blinked, momentarily stunned, before his grin turned lopsided, a playful glint in his eye.

"Me too."

ꔛ

The theater’s neon lights flickered against the pavement as you spotted Armin waiting near the entrance, hands shoved awkwardly into his jean pockets. The second he saw you, he straightened up, eyes widening slightly before a warm, nervous smile took over.

"You—" He cleared his throat, stepping forward. "You look pretty... cute. I mean pretty and cute. Like. Both. At the same time."

You bit back a laugh, watching as his ears turned pink the second the words left his mouth. It was ridiculous—considering the things you’d done together, the way he’d whispered filthy praise against your skin just last week—yet here he was, stumbling over his words like this was his first-ever date.

God, he’s adorable.

"You clean up nice too," you teased, nodding at his slightly-too-big button-up and the way his hair was trying to be neatly styled but already falling out of place.

Armin exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath, before hesitantly reaching for your hand. His fingers laced with yours, warm and slightly shaky, and when you squeezed, he squeezed back like he was afraid you’d disappear.

"You nervous?" you asked, bumping his shoulder as you walked toward the ticket line.

"No," he lied immediately, then groaned. "Okay, yes. But only because I—I don’t know. This feels different."

You knew exactly what he meant. Hooking up was one thing, but this? The deliberate choice of each other, the quiet intimacy of a date—it was terrifyingly sweet.

Armin led you past the concessions stand, waving casually at his coworker who shot him a knowing grin and a thumbs up. He'd insisted on paying for popcorn despite the fact that most of his perks came free with his job—"It's a proper date," he'd said firmly, handing over actual money when you tried to protest.

The theater was nearly empty for the late showing, just a couple of pairs scattered throughout the front rows. Armin guided you toward the back row, his fingers still intertwined with yours.

"I hope you like horror," he said, settling into the cushy seat beside you. "Jean and Eren said this one was supposed to be good."

What Armin wasn't telling you was the entire embarrassing conversation that had led to this choice.

"Dude, horror movie. No question," Jean had said, sprawled across Armin's couch while Eren nodded enthusiastically from the floor.

"I don't know..." Armin hesitated. "What if she doesn't like being scared?"

Eren rolled his eyes. "That's the point. She gets scared, you comfort her, she feels safe with you—boom, instant connection."

"We've already connected," Armin muttered, his cheeks warming. "Multiple times."

"Yeah, but this is different," Jean insisted, sitting up to look more serious. "This is you being the strong, protective one. Plus, dark theater, back row..." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Eren threw a pillow at Jean before turning to Armin. "Look, trust us. It's the perfect first date movie. You can protect her if it gets too scary."

As the lights dimmed and the previews began to play, Armin lifted the armrest between your seats, allowing you to slide closer. The warmth of your body against his side made him acutely aware of his heartbeat—too fast, too loud—as the movie title splashed across the screen in dripping red letters.

Twenty minutes in, it became abundantly clear that Jean and Eren's advice had been... flawed.

A jump-scare sent Armin practically out of his seat, his hand clutching yours so tightly it almost hurt. You bit back a laugh as he quickly tried to play it off, clearing his throat and settling back down. Another ten minutes passed before a second scare had him actually yelping—a small, startled sound that he immediately tried to cover with a cough.

"You good?" you whispered, leaning closer to his ear, amused by the way he'd tensed up.

"Totally fine," he whispered back unconvincingly, his eyes still fixed on the screen where a shadowy figure lurked behind the protagonist. When the inevitable jumpscare came, he flinched again, harder this time.

You couldn't help it—you laughed softly, squeezing his hand. "It's gonna be okay, Armin."

His face burned in the darkness, visible even in the dim light from the screen. "I don't usually watch this stuff."

"It's fine, really." You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling him gradually relax against you. "It's cute, though, how scared you're getting."

Armin turned slightly, his breath warm against your temple. "Cute wasn't exactly what I was going for, but I'll take it."

The movie continued, a predictable parade of creaky doors and bloody apparitions, but you found yourself paying less attention to the plot and more to the way Armin's thumb absently stroked the back of your hand. How his breath would catch before each scare, how he'd release it slowly afterward, trying to play it cool.

Halfway through, during a particularly tense scene, you glanced up at him—his profile illuminated by the flickering blue light, his features etched in concentration despite his obvious discomfort. Without thinking, you pressed your lips to the edge of his jaw, just a light brush of contact.

Armin stilled, his attention immediately diverted from the screen to you. His eyes, wide and questioning, found yours in the darkness.

You smiled innocently, but when his gaze dropped to your lips, the air between you shifted. The movie faded to background noise as he leaned closer, hesitating just a breath away. His eyes met yours in question.

In answer, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a soft, testing kiss. He responded immediately, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, holding you there as the kiss deepened. The taste of buttered popcorn lingered on his tongue as it slipped past your lips, exploring with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

A particularly loud noise from the movie made him jump again, breaking the kiss with a startled gasp before he laughed softly against your mouth.

"Sorry," he murmured, his thumb stroking your cheek.

"Don't be," you whispered back, shifting to get a better angle.

This time when you kissed him, it was less cautious. Your hand slid up his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles as he pulled you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. The armrest dug into your side but you hardly noticed, too lost in the way he kissed you—deepening from sweet to something hungrier, something that made heat pool in your stomach.

The protagonist's screams provided a bizarre soundtrack as Armin's hand moved from your cheek down to your neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive spot beneath your ear that he'd discovered weeks ago. You shivered, and he smiled against your lips, clearly pleased with himself.

"Thought you were scared," you teased quietly, nipping at his lower lip.

"Distracted now," he breathed, kissing down to the corner of your mouth, your jaw.

You glanced around quickly—the nearest couple was rows away, focused on the movie—before sliding your hand to his thigh, feeling him tense beneath your touch. His own hand moved to your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to brush warm skin.

The kiss turned deeper, messier, as his tongue slid against yours. You could feel him getting bolder, his grip on your waist tightening as you shifted closer, your hand inching higher on his thigh. He made a soft sound in the back of his throat that sent a pulse of want straight through you.

His teeth grazed your lower lip, and you gasped quietly, feeling his smile against your mouth. This was a different Armin than the one who'd stumbled through asking you out—this was the Armin who knew exactly what you liked, who'd mapped your body with his hands and mouth, who'd made you come undone with just his fingers on multiple occasions.

"We should—" he started, pulling back slightly, his breath warm against your lips. "We should probably watch the movie."

"Yeah. I don't want your coworkers making fun of you," you whispered with a smile.

A woman on screen shrieked as something lunged at her, and Armin tensed again, his grip on you tightening reflexively. You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Maybe we should have gone with a comedy," he admitted, his voice low with embarrassment. "Eren and Jean said horror would be—" He cut himself off, realizing he'd said too much.

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What exactly did they say?"

Armin's hand fell from your waist as he ran it through his hair, messing up the careful styling even further. "Something about, uh... you getting scared and me comforting you." His ears were burning again. "Which obviously backfired because I'm the one jumping at every shadow."

"I don't know," you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his ear. "I think I like comforting you just fine."

He shivered, his hand finding yours again in the darkness. For the remainder of the movie, you stayed close, your head on his shoulder, occasionally stealing kisses during the less intense scenes. Whenever a jumpscare hit, you'd squeeze his hand, feeling him relax against you as the moment passed.

By the time the credits rolled, Armin had practically forgotten his embarrassment, too content with your warmth against him, the smell of your shampoo as you rested against his shoulder. As the lights slowly brightened, he turned to look at you properly, taking in your slightly disheveled appearance—lips a little swollen from his kisses, hair mussed where his fingers had tangled in it.

He looked just as affected—cheeks flushed, blonde hair falling messily across his forehead, lips pink and just a touch raw. The sight made your heart flutter.

"So," he said, voice hoarse as he helped you gather your things, "on a scale of one to ten, how bad was my movie choice?"

You laughed, standing to stretch your legs. "Well, I didn't really see much of it, so I can't judge fairly."

His smile was slow, a little smug as he stood beside you. "Me neither."

You both lingered in the theater as others filed out, neither quite ready to end the night.

"We could..." Armin started, then stopped, suddenly looking shy again. "We could go back to my place? Connie and Sasha are out tonight, so..."

The implication hung between you, charged with possibility.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. "Let's go."

His smile was bright enough to rival the theater's exit signs as he pulled you gently toward the door, the forgotten horror movie already a distant memory.

ꔛ

The door to Armin's apartment swung open, his hand fumbling slightly with the key as he stepped aside to let you in. The familiar space greeted you—Sasha's mismatched throw pillows scattered across the couch, Connie's gaming setup in the corner, and the subtle scent of Armin's sandalwood candle that he always lit when studying late.

"They're definitely out?" you asked, slipping off your shoes by the door.

Armin nodded, his eyes never leaving yours as he set his keys on the counter. "Until late. Frat party, I guess."

There was a beat of silence—a moment of shared understanding—before you both moved at once. Armin's hands found your waist as he backed you toward his bedroom, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that made it clear he'd been restraining himself at the theater. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly in the way you'd discovered made him groan.

He navigated the hallway without breaking the kiss, blindly pushing open his bedroom door. The familiar space—desk cluttered with textbooks and astronomy notes, walls adorned with star charts and anime posters he'd shyly explained on your first visit—welcomed you like an old friend.

Armin walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of his bed, his hands steady at your waist. He broke the kiss, looking down at you with eyes darkened by desire, a question in them that you answered by sitting down at the edge of the mattress.

Before he could make another move, you reached for the button of his jeans, watching his breath hitch as your fingers worked the metal through the hole. His hands moved to your shoulders, gentle but trembling slightly.

"You don't have to—" he started, his voice cracking embarrassingly in the middle.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes with a small smile. "I already told you, I want to."

The flush on his cheeks deepened, but he nodded, swallowing hard as you slowly lowered his zipper. His fingers twitched against your shoulders, anticipation building in the way he shifted his weight.

The contrast between drunk Armin and sober Armin had fascinated you from the start.

Drunk Armin was all impulse and confidence—hands everywhere, whispered confessions against your skin, boldly telling you exactly what he wanted with none of his usual hesitation. The first night at the party, he'd been liquid courage and hungry eyes, pulling you into Jean's room without a second thought.

Sober Armin was a slow burn—starting tentative and sweet, checking in with gentle touches and questioning looks, always making sure you were comfortable. But what made him so intoxicating was the transformation that happened when pleasure built—how his careful control would gradually unravel, revealing the intensity he usually kept hidden beneath his quiet exterior.

As you tugged his jeans down his thighs, you could see that transformation beginning. His fingers flexed against your shoulders, his breathing already uneven despite how little you'd done.

"Is this okay?" you asked, looking up at him through your lashes, your hands resting on his hips.

He nodded rapidly, then cleared his throat. "Yeah—yes, it's... it's more than okay."

You smiled, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, enjoying the way his abdominal muscles tensed in anticipation. Slowly, you pulled the fabric down, revealing him inch by inch until he sprang free, already hard and straining.

Armin's breath caught audibly, his hands moving from your shoulders to card gently through your hair. The touch was reverent, careful—so typically Armin at the start.

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling him pulse against your palm as you stroked slowly from base to tip. His eyes fell shut momentarily, lips parting on a shaky exhale.

"You're already so hard," you murmured, thumb circling the sensitive head.

"Been thinking about this all night," he admitted, voice strained but still controlled. "Since the theater."

You leaned forward, maintaining eye contact as you pressed a soft kiss to the tip, watching his pupils dilate at the contact. His fingers tightened slightly in your hair, not pushing, just holding on like he needed an anchor.

When you finally took him into your mouth, Armin's quiet gasp filled the room. You started slow, taking just the head between your lips, tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge before dipping into the slit. His thighs trembled beneath your hands, restraint evident in every tense muscle.

"That feels—" he broke off as you took him deeper, his voice cracking again. "So good, God."

You hollowed your cheeks, establishing a rhythm as you worked him with your mouth and hand together. Sweet, shy Armin was still present in the gentle way his fingers stroked your hair, in the soft, appreciative sounds he made with each movement of your tongue.

But as the minutes passed, you felt the shift.

His breathing grew heavier, his normally precise vocabulary reduced to fragments and your name. When you took him particularly deep, letting him hit the back of your throat, his hips jerked forward involuntarily causing you to gag slightly.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he gasped immediately, trying to pull back.

You responded by gripping his hips, encouraging him to stay where he was, looking up to meet his gaze. The message was clear: It's okay. I can take it.

The careful restraint in his expression began to crack. His hand tightened in your hair, not painful but definitely more commanding than before, guiding your movements as you continued.

"You look so—" he swallowed hard, jaw clenching as you swirled your tongue around him. "So perfect like this."

This was where drunk and sober Armin began to converge—where pleasure stripped away his inhibitions, leaving raw need in their place. His hips started to move in shallow, careful thrusts that grew more confident when you moaned encouragingly around him.

"Is this okay?" he asked, voice rough with desire, his hand now firmly guiding your head. When you nodded, he exhaled sharply. "Good, because I—fuck—I need to—"

The proper, articulate Armin was gone now, replaced by a version of him that chased his pleasure with focused intensity. His fingers tangled more firmly in your hair, his thrusts growing more deliberate as he watched himself disappear between your lips.

"You're so good at this," he praised, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. "So perfect with your mouth, taking me so well."

You hummed around him, sending vibrations through his length that made him curse—something rare from his usual vocabulary. His self-consciousness had evaporated, replaced by a man who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn't afraid to ask.

"Deeper," he urged, voice strained but commanding. "Please, just like—yes—just like that."

When you felt him start to throb against your tongue, his thighs tensing beneath your hands, you knew he was close. His careful rhythm faltered, growing erratic as his control slipped further.

"I'm going to—" he warned, trying to pull back slightly. "If you don't stop, I'll—"

You dug your fingers into his hips, taking him deeper instead, and the last thread of his restraint snapped. His head fell back, throat working around a groan that seemed torn from somewhere deep inside him as he pulsed against your tongue.

"Fuck," he gasped, the words falling from his lips as he came, his fingers clenching in your hair, his body shuddering with release.

You worked him through it, swallowing around him until he became too sensitive, his hands gently urging you back as he caught his breath. When you finally pulled away, looking up at him with a satisfied smile, his expression was dazed, cheeks flushed dark red.

Armin was still catching his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly, when his gaze dropped to you—eyes dark with hunger, lips kiss-swollen, fingers twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to pull you closer or give you a second to recover.

Then, with a suddenness that made your pulse jump, he pushed you back onto the bed.

You let out a surprised laugh as you landed against his pillows, but the sound choked off when he climbed over you, his hands sliding possessively up your thighs. His glasses—already fogged from his heavy breathing—slipped slightly down his nose, and with an impatient noise, he yanked them off and tossed them onto the nightstand.

"Fuck these things," he muttered, before his attention snapped back to you, making you laugh momentarily before your breath hitched.

His fingers hooked into the hem of your skirt, pushing it up your hips in one smooth motion, exposing the damp fabric of your panties. He exhaled sharply at the sight, his thumbs immediately pressing against the soaked material, dragging slowly along the seam.

"Armin," you gasped, arching into the touch.

He smirked—actually smirked—before dipping his head to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh. His lips were warm, teasing, moving higher with agonizing slowness.

"You’re so wet," he murmured, fingertips ghosting over the damp fabric of your panties. "Just from sucking me off?"

You bit your lip, nodding, and his expression darkened with satisfaction.

"Then let me return the favor."

Armin’s fingers curled into the sides of your panties, dragging them down your legs with deliberate slowness, his knuckles brushing against your thighs in a way that made you shiver. The moment they were off, tossed carelessly onto the floor, his hands returned—spreading your thighs wider, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just beneath your hips, like he was memorizing the way you opened for him.

His breath was warm against your bare skin as he leaned in, pressing a kiss just above the apex of your thighs, teasing.

"You're so cute," he murmured, voice rough with want, lips brushing against your slick folds without giving you what you wanted. "The way you react every time."

You whined, hips lifting desperately toward his mouth, but he chuckled—chuckled, the bastard—and held you down with one firm hand on your stomach.

"I—fuck, Armin—" you gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Hm?" he hummed breath fanning over your overheated skin. Then, finally, his tongue dragged through your wetness in one slow, torturous stroke, and you nearly arched clean off the bed.

His grip on your hip tightened, pinning you in place as he repeated the motion, lapping at you like he was savoring the taste. The contrast was maddening—his usual careful precision in everything he did, now applied to unraveling you completely.

Armin's mouth was relentless—hot, wet, and hungry as he devoured you with the same focus he usually reserved for his astronomy charts. His tongue laved broad, slow strokes through your folds before zeroing in on your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure to make your thighs tremble.

"Fuck—yes, like that—" you gasped, fingers threading through his hair, tugging lightly as he worked you over with his lips and tongue.

He hummed against you in response, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Then, without warning, his fingers joined—two of them pressing against your entrance before sliding inside in one smooth thrust.

"You like that?" he asked, pulling back just enough to watch your face as he curled his fingers just right, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit.

All you could manage was a desperate nod, your voice failing you as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach.

Armin’s lips curved into a smirk—smug bastard—before his mouth descended again, tongue flicking over your clit in quick, relentless circles as his fingers fucked into you with growing insistence.

"You sound so pretty," he muttered against you, the vibrations making you writhe. "Always." His movements were precise, almost scientific, as if he’d studied exactly how to make you fall apart.

"Armin—" you panted, your grip tightening in his hair as his fingers pumped in and out, his thumb brushing your clit in tandem. "Don’t stop—please—"

He didn’t. If anything, he doubled down—sucking your clit between his lips, fucking you with his fingers at a steady, maddening pace. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you open for him as he worked you toward the edge with terrifying efficiency.

You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach, your breathing coming in ragged gasps as he pushed you closer and closer.

"Come for me," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with arousal. "Let me feel it."

And just like that, you shattered—your orgasm crashing over you in waves, your body clenching around his fingers as he coaxed every last pulse of pleasure from you.

When you finally slumped back against the bed, boneless and breathless, Armin pulled back just enough to look up at you, lips glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction.

"Fuck," was all you could manage.

"Good?" he asked, like he didn’t already know.

You simply whined, lips curling into a grin at his pleased expression. Armin crawled up your body, his lips finding yours in a deep, hungry kiss that let you taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned into his mouth, hands sliding up his back, feeling the muscles shift beneath your palms as he settled between your thighs.

His fingers tangled in your hair, cradling your head as he kissed you thoroughly, unhurried now despite the way his arousal pressed insistently against your stomach. Each sweep of his tongue was deliberate, each gentle bite to your lower lip calculated to make you gasp.

He sat back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the lean, subtle muscle of his chest and stomach. Not bulky like some of his friends, but defined in a way that made your mouth water. You reached up, tracing a finger down the center of his chest, feeling him shiver under your touch.

"Let me grab something," he murmured, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips before leaning over to his nightstand.

He pulled open the drawer, retrieving a small box of condoms that still had the plastic wrap on it. You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Recent purchase?" you teased.

Armin's cheeks flushed, but he nodded, tearing open the box with slightly fumbling fingers. "Got them last week. After, uh—" he met your eyes, a small smile playing at his lips. "After I decided I never wanted to use Jean's condoms again. Completely ruined the mood knowing they were his."

You laughed, the sound turning into a soft gasp as he tore open a packet and rolled the condom onto his length with careful precision.

"Plus," he added, his voice dropping lower as he settled back between your legs, "I wanted to be prepared. For you."

His hands slid beneath your knees, gently pushing them back and open, exposing you completely to his gaze. The position left you feeling vulnerable, but the reverent way he looked at you—like you were a particularly fascinating celestial phenomenon he'd just discovered—made heat pool in your stomach.

Armin positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your slick folds without pushing in. He guidded his cock with his hand, coating himself in your wetness, watching your face as he teased you.

You whimpered, trying to shift your hips to take him in.

His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he continued the maddening tease. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You didn't answer immediately, distracted by the pleasure building again as he rubbed his dick against your sensitive clit.

"Tell me," he prompted, leaning down to kiss your neck. "I want to hear you say it."

You threw your arm over your face, suddenly embarrassed despite everything you'd already done together. "You know what I want."

"I do," he agreed, nipping lightly at your collarbone. "But I want to hear you ask for it."

Something about his tone—not demanding or smug, but genuinely wanting to hear your desire—made heat pool in your stomach. You peeked at him from beneath your arm, taking in his flushed cheeks, the way his lower lip was caught between his teeth, the eager anticipation in his eyes.

"Please," you whispered, the word barely audible.

His smile was gentle, encouraging. "Please what?" he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw.

You swallowed, gathering your courage. "Please fuck me, Armin. I want you inside me."

The words sent a visible shudder through him, his breath catching as he lined himself up properly. "Like this?" he asked, pushing just the tip inside, watching your face carefully.

"Yes," you gasped, hands flying to his shoulders as he sank deeper, stretching you deliciously. "Just like that—god."

Armin's breath hitched as he pushed in deeper, his hands gripping your thighs with increasing pressure. You watched his face transform—the careful control giving way to raw sensation as he buried himself inside you completely, his hips finally flush against yours.

"Fuck," he breathed, eyes falling closed for a moment as he adjusted to the feeling. "You feel—you feel incredible."

He stayed like that for a heartbeat, fully seated inside you, his thumbs drawing small, soothing circles against your skin. Then he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your heart stutter.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, pulling back slowly before pushing in again with careful precision.

You shook your head, digging your fingers into his shoulders. "It's perfect. You're perfect."

The praise sent a visible shiver through him, his rhythm faltering briefly before he found it again, setting a deliberate pace that had you arching beneath him. Each thrust was measured and deep, hitting exactly where you needed it.

Armin bent down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as he continued to move within you. His hand slid from your thigh to your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your top.

"Take this off," he murmured against your mouth. "Want to see all of you."

You nodded, and he helped you pull the shirt over your head, followed quickly by your bra. The moment you were bare beneath him, his eyes darkened with appreciation, his hands immediately moving to cup your breasts.

"Beautiful," he whispered, almost to himself, as he rolled a nipple between his fingers, watching your reaction with fascination.

The dual sensation of his cock inside you and his fingers on your sensitive nipples had you moaning, head thrown back against the pillows. Armin took advantage, his lips finding your exposed throat, sucking and nipping at the tender skin there.

His thrusts grew deeper, more insistent, each one drawing a soft gasp from your lips. You'd almost forgotten how perfectly he filled you—the past few weeks had been rushed encounters between classes, hurried orgasms from his fingers and tongue, but not this. Not since that first drunken night in Jean's room had you felt the delicious stretch of him inside you, and your body was reacquainting itself with the sensation.

"You feel so good," Armin breathed, his voice strained as his hips snapped forward with increasing force. "So fucking tight—god—"

His cursing sent a thrill through you—the contrast between the polite, studious Armin who explained Europa's atmospheric composition with such precision and the Armin currently fucking you into his mattress, hair falling messily across his forehead as sweat beaded on his brow.

"Harder," you urged, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

Something flashed in his eyes—a momentary hesitation, then resolve. "You sure?"

"Yes—please—"

He didn't need to be told twice. His next thrust came with enough force to make the headboard hit the wall, drawing a surprised moan from your lips. His hands found yours, fingers interlacing as he pinned them beside your head, using the leverage to drive into you with newfound intensity.

"Like this?" he asked, voice rough, eyes dark with concentration as he watched your face for every reaction. "This what you need?"

"Yes—fuck—just like that," you gasped, arching beneath him.

A particularly deep thrust had you crying out, and Armin groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his hips worked against yours.

"Missed this," he confessed against your skin, the words tumbling out between thrusts. "Thinking about fucking you again—couldn't focus on the project—kept remembering how you felt—"

You whimpered, the admission sending heat spiraling through your core. The idea of him daydreaming about this while working on those meticulous slides, wanting you while discussing celestial phenomena—it was both ridiculously endearing and intoxicating.

"Me too," you admitted, "got wet thinking about you in class, when you were sitting right next to me—"

Armin groaned, his hips stuttering before finding their rhythm again. "Yeah? While I was discussing Titan's atmosphere?" His voice was playful despite the strain, his lips curving against your neck.

"Especially then," you teased back, gasping as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Something about the way you talk about space—ah!—really does it for me."

He laughed, breathless and surprised, before pulling back enough to look at you. His expression shifted to something more serious, more vulnerable, as his pace slowed momentarily.

"I'm falling for you," he admitted quietly, the words hanging between you as his hips rolled in a slow, deliberate grind. "Not just this—though fuck, this is amazing—but all of it. You."

Your heart stuttered, warmth blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with the physical pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your heart swelled at his confession, but before you could respond, Armin's hips snapped forward with renewed vigor, stealing the words from your throat.

"But right now," he continued, voice dropping to a husky whisper as he picked up the pace, "right now I just want to make you come around my cock."

The filthy words from his usually proper mouth sent a shock of heat straight to your core. You watched, transfixed, as his lean muscles tensed with each thrust—the subtle definition of his abs contracting, the way his biceps flexed as he held himself above you. His golden hair, usually so neatly combed, now hung in sweaty strands around his flushed face, his blue eyes dark and unfocused with pleasure.

"Fuck," you moaned as he shifted, the angle changing just enough that the head of his cock dragged perfectly against your g-spot with every thrust.

"There it is," he murmured, a hint of smug satisfaction in his voice as he noted your reaction. "Found it."

He slammed into you harder, making the bed frame creak beneath you, each thrust precise despite the increasing desperation of his movements. The wet sounds of your bodies meeting filled the room, obscene and arousing.

"You're so fucking wet," Armin groaned, watching where your bodies connected. "Taking my dick so perfectly—shit—"

You whimpered at his words, clenching around him involuntarily, which made his eyes flutter closed for a brief moment.

Just as the tension was building, coiling tight in your lower belly, a sound from the apartment's entrance made you both freeze.

"Armin? You home?" Connie's voice carried down the hallway, followed by the distinct jingle of keys.

"Shit," Armin whispered, his eyes widening in panic. He glanced at the door—which, you realized with a jolt of adrenaline, neither of you had thought to lock.

Before you could process what was happening, Armin's hand clamped over your mouth, his body still buried deep inside yours.

"Yeah, I'm here!" he called back, voice remarkably steady despite the situation. "Just working on some stuff in my room. Don't—don't come in, I'm changing!"

His eyes met yours, a silent question in them—okay?—as he remained perfectly still, his cock pulsing inside you.

You nodded against his palm, heart racing with the thrill of nearly being caught. To your shock, instead of pulling out, Armin began to move again—slower now, more deliberate, his hips rolling in shallow thrusts that maintained the pressure against your sweet spot without making the bed creak.

"We brought pizza!" Sasha's voice called. "Extra pepperoni! You want some?"

Armin bit his lip, stifling a groan as you clenched around him again, the danger of the situation somehow heightening every sensation.

"Maybe—ah—maybe later!" he called back, his voice hitching slightly as you deliberately tightened around him. He shot you a warning look that only made heat pool lower in your belly.

"Suit yourself," Connie replied, his voice thankfully moving toward the living room. "We're gonna watch that new anime you were talking about. The one with the monsters."

Armin's hips stuttered at the mention, and you couldn't help but smile against his palm, imagining him trying to focus on serious conversation while balls-deep inside you.

"Go ahead!" Armin called, then lowered his voice to a whisper meant only for you. "If you make a sound, I'll stop."

The threat—not truly a threat given how desperately you both wanted this—made you shiver.

The moment he was satisfied his roommates were settled in the living room, Armin's hips snapped forward with renewed force, his hand pressing harder against your mouth. His eyes were wild, a mixture of arousal and danger as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"Gotta be quiet now," he breathed, his voice trembling slightly as he picked up the pace. "Can't let them hear how fucking wet your pussy is for me."

You whimpered against his hand, feeling yourself clench around him at the unexpected dirty talk. This was a side of Armin you'd glimpsed before—the way he'd whisper filthy praise against your ear when you sucked him off, how he'd gotten bolder with his words each time you hooked up—but never quite this raw, this uninhibited. His thrusts grew deeper, harder, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting seeming obscenely loud in the quiet room.

"Look at you," he continued, watching your breasts bounce with each powerful thrust. "Fuck, you're so perfect."

His free hand moved to cup one breast, thumb circling the hardened nipple before pinching it lightly, causing you to arch beneath him. Your muffled moan was captured by his hand, which pressed more firmly against your lips.

"Shh," he warned, but his eyes were dark with satisfaction at your reaction. "They'll hear you."

The position shifted slightly as he leaned more weight on the hand covering your mouth, his cock driving impossibly deeper. You could feel his heavy balls slap against your ass with each thrust, adding to the obscene symphony of skin against skin.

"You're dripping," he groaned quietly, glancing down at where your bodies joined. "Soaking the sheets, fuck—"

Despite his assertive words, Armin was falling apart above you—his composure cracking with each thrust. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he tried to stifle his own sounds. A whimper escaped him when you deliberately clenched around his length, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment.

"Do that—do that again," he pleaded, voice breaking slightly as you obliged, squeezing your inner muscles around him. "God—feels so good—"

His rhythm faltered briefly before he found it again, driving into you with precision that belied his trembling thighs and stuttered breathing. The head of his cock hit that perfect spot deep inside you with each thrust, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

You tried to say his name, the sound muffled against his palm as your hands clutched at his back, nails digging into the smooth skin. Armin hissed at the sting but didn't slow down—if anything, the pain seemed to spur him on, his hips snapping forward with increased fervor.

"You like this?" he whispered, sweat-dampened hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you. "Like me keeping you quiet while I fuck you? While my roommates are right outside?"

You nodded frantically, eyes wide as pressure built inside you, coiling tighter with each precise thrust.

"Such a—fuck—such a dirty girl," he continued, voice breaking on a particularly deep thrust. "Getting off on this—on me—ahh—holding you down and—and fucking you while—"

He couldn't even finish the sentence, too caught up in the sensation. His expression was a beautiful mess—flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes glazed with pleasure. When you clenched around him again, he let out a whine that he immediately tried to muffle by burying his face in your neck.

"Close," he gasped against your skin, his rhythm growing erratic. "So close—need you to—need you to come with me—"

His hand slipped from your mouth just long enough to slide between your bodies, finding your clit with practiced ease. The sudden stimulation made you gasp, and his palm clamped back over your lips instantly.

"Quiet," he reminded you, but the command lacked authority as his own breath hitched. His fingers worked your clit in tight, fast circles as his cock continued to pound into you, the dual sensation rapidly pushing you toward the edge.

"Come on my cock," he urged, words turning desperate as his control slipped further. "Want to feel you—feel you squeeze me—God—squeeze me when you come—"

Your orgasm hit without warning, crashing over you in intense waves as your body clenched rhythmically around his length. Armin's hand barely muffled your cry as pleasure flooded every nerve, your back arching off the bed.

The feeling of your walls pulsing around him was too much. Armin's hips stuttered, his rhythm faltering completely as he buried himself deep inside you with one final thrust. His whole body tensed, a choked whimper escaping his lips as he came, his cock throbbing within you as he spilled into the condom.

For a long moment, he remained frozen above you, trembling with the force of his release. Then, slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with his lips in a gentle, almost apologetic kiss.

"Sorry," he whispered against your lips, still catching his breath. "Got a bit... carried away."

You smiled, reaching up to brush sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. "Don't apologize. That was... wow."

A flush that had nothing to do with exertion spread across his cheeks, the shy, sweet Armin returning now that the heat of the moment had passed. The transformation was as endearing as it was fascinating—how quickly he could shift from filthy-mouthed confidence back to soft-spoken tenderness.

"Yeah?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice despite what you'd just shared.

"Yeah," you confirmed, pulling him down for another kiss. "Definitely wow."

Armin carefully pulled out, both of you wincing slightly at the sensitivity. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before climbing off the bed and padding to the bathroom. You heard water running briefly before he returned, condom disposed of and a warm washcloth in hand.

"Here," he offered softly, gently cleaning between your thighs with a tenderness that made your chest ache. When he was done, he tossed the cloth into his hamper and climbed back onto the bed, immediately pulling you against his chest.

His fingers combed through your tangled hair, pushing sweaty strands away from your face. "You okay?"

You nodded, nestling into his warmth. "Perfect."

Armin reached toward the nightstand, grabbing a half-empty water bottle and offering it to you. "Drink something."

You took a few grateful sips before passing it back, watching as he drank deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow. The care in these small gestures was somehow more intimate than what you'd just shared.

After a comfortable silence, you traced a finger along his collarbone. "So..."

His eyes met yours, a hint of vulnerability in them. "So?"

"You said something. During." You bit your lip, suddenly shy despite everything. "About falling for me."

A blush immediately spread across his cheeks, but to his credit, he didn't look away. "I did."

"Did you mean it?"

Armin exhaled, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining. "Yeah. I did. I am." His thumb stroked the back of your hand nervously. "Falling for you, that is."

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you smiled up at him. "Good. Because I'm falling for you too."

The relief that washed over his face was almost comical—like he'd been genuinely worried after everything you'd shared. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"Does that mean... I mean, would you want to..." he trailed off, then took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet your eyes. "Will you be my girlfriend? Officially?"

You couldn't help but laugh—not at him, but at the endearing formality of it all, asking you to be his girlfriend while you were both naked and sweaty in his bed.

"Yes, Armin," you said, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "I'll be your girlfriend. Officially."

His answering smile was brilliant, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made your stomach flutter.

"Great," he said, voice soft but steady. "That's... really great."

A loud burst of laughter from the living room reminded you both that you weren't alone in the apartment. Armin glanced toward the door, then back at you.

"We should probably..."

"Join civilization?" you suggested, already reaching for your scattered clothes.

"Yeah," he chuckled, climbing off the bed and searching for his boxers. "Plus, there's pizza."

You both dressed quickly, stealing glances and sharing small smiles as you put yourselves back together. Armin ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to tame it back into something presentable while you straightened your clothes and checked for any visible marks he might have left.

When you finally emerged from his bedroom, Connie and Sasha were sprawled across the couch, an open pizza box on the coffee table between them and some colorful anime playing on the TV.

"Well, well, look who finally emerged," Connie said, giving you a knowing grin as he paused the show. "Thought you said you were changing, Armin."

Armin froze for a half-second, his ears turning bright red as he fumbled for words. "I was—I mean, we were just—"

"Uh-huh," Sasha smirked, grabbing another slice of pizza. "Changing."

Armin's shoulders straightened suddenly, his hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together. "Well, I have a girlfriend now, so..." he trailed off defensively, the statement hanging in the air like he wasn't quite sure where he was going with it.

Connie and Sasha were silent, amusement on their expressions at Armin's words.

"Yeah, I have a girlfriend now, so what does it matter if I change in front of her?" Armin challenged more confidently, chin lifting slightly despite the blush still coloring his cheeks.

Connie rolled his eyes dramatically, throwing a wadded-up napkin in Armin's direction. "Yeah, yeah, just rub it in our faces, why don't you? Some of us are still single and suffering."

But there was no real bite to his words, just good-natured teasing as he scooted over to make room on the couch.

Sasha couldn't seem to stop smiling, her eyes darting between you and Armin with barely contained delight. "About time," she said, pushing the pizza box toward you both.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Armin asked, guiding you to the spot Connie had cleared.

"Dude, you've been talking about her non-stop for weeks," Connie snorted. "Pretty sure Sasha and I could recite your astronomy project by heart at this point."

"That's not true," Armin protested weakly, but the way he avoided eye contact made it clear Connie wasn't exaggerating.

Sasha leaned forward, stage-whispering to you. "He's had a crush on you since like, the second week of class. It was painful to watch."

"Okay," Armin interrupted loudly, reaching for a slice of pizza. "Can we please just watch the show now?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his embarrassment, settling comfortably against his side as Connie hit play on the remote. The anime resumed—something about giant humanoid creatures that seemed equal parts fascinating and terrifying—but you found yourself more interested in watching the easy camaraderie between the three roommates.

Despite their teasing, it was obvious how much Connie and Sasha cared about Armin. The way Sasha would occasionally glance over with a soft, approving smile, or how Connie had immediately made space for both of you, accepting you into their little circle without question.

As the show continued, Armin's arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the comforting weight of his arm. His fingers traced absent patterns on your shoulder as he focused on the screen, occasionally leaning down to whisper explanations of characters or plot points you might have missed.

It felt natural. Easy. Like you'd always belonged here, nestled against Armin's side while his friends bickered good-naturedly over the last slice of pizza.

When Armin's phone buzzed with a text from Eren asking how the date went, he simply smiled, typing back a quick response before tucking his phone away and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Good?" he asked quietly, and you knew he wasn't just asking about the anime or the pizza.

"Perfect," you confirmed, settling more comfortably against him as the next episode began to play.

[dacrystalsim]

TS3 Functional Closet Mod

The idea for this mod started with my want to convert TS2 Apartment Life closet. I could have used the Supernatural wardrobe as a base, but I wanted the doors to have proper animations and the ability to function like real closet doors against the wall, similar to how doors work in the game. So, this mod was created! ����

What is this mod?

This mod functions as a dresser but includes a new animation that allows the doors to slide open like an actual closet. When the closet opens and closes, the Sim plays an idle animation, and when changing clothes, they use the spin animation.

The mod includes two different types, depending on the closet:

Dresser Type – Offers the same interactions as the base game dresser. This type is best for closets without mirrors.

Mirror Type – Includes interactions from the vanity table in Supernatural and Showtime (Don’t worry, the mod is 100% base game compatible!).

Important! This mod does not add a closet object to the game by itself. It only provides the necessary functionality for closet objects to work properly!

The Closet Object:

As mentioned earlier, this mod was created because I wanted to convert TS2 closet. The conversion is included with the mod, and you're welcome to use it as a base for creating your own closets! 😊

The closet comes in three different versions:

Opaque

Mirror – This version is split into two parts: the closet and a separate mirror for the animated door. To use it properly, simply place the mirror on the closet—it will slot into place and move with the door 😊

Glass

Both merged and unmerged versions are included—please install only one! (The merged file does not include the mod itself.)

How to Install?

Place the mod and the closet objects in your Mods/Packages folder.

Download links:

[SFS] | [MTS]

Credits: EA/Maxis, Blender, SimPE, S3PE, S3OC, TSRW, ILSpy, Visual Studio 2022 and Battery for the Script Mod Template Creator. Special thanks: @zoeoe-sims, @deniisu-sims, TS3CreatorCave discord server for all the help and Bloom from simlogical for creating a mirror door that I used as a reference to figure out how to make the closet move with the mirror ❤ @xto3conversionsfinds @pis3update @kpccfinds

Additional information, CASTable channels, polycount and how to make your own closet under the cut.

How to Create Your Own Closet?

Choose the version you'd like to clone as your base and ensure the OBJK is set correctly in S3PE for the closet type you want.

For a closet without a mirror: Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.ShelvesStorage.Crystal.Closet

For a closet with a mirror: Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.ShelvesStorage.Crystal.ClosetMirror

Polycount:

The 3 versions share the same polycount. LOD 0 (High Detail): 2430 LOD 1 (Medium Detail): 1070

Additional Info:

The closets are found under Storage -> Dressers in Buy Mode.

The original TS2 catalog description and price.

The meshes were UV edited to make them CASTable.

The package files are compressed.

[truthscrapper]

Devlog #1 📚 The Very First Devlog

We announced Truth Scrapper with a beautiful trailer this month!!! The response has been absolutely incredible, thank you so much for following me on another funky memory adventure. Throughout the development of ISAT, I have written monthly devlogs on Steam, talking about the making of the game. People liked them a bunch, so…

That’s right. It’s time. For the Very First Truth Scrapper devlog!

In case you just stumbled upon this, I am Adrienne, also known as insertdisc5! I am the creator of timeloop RPG In Stars and Time, and now am working on my next game, memory visual novel Truth Scrapper. It’s gonna be a good one.

Alright! Development talk time. Where’s the game at?!?!

So, right now, I have just finished writing the script for Day 4, so I "only" have the art, code, and implementation to do for that day. Truth Scrapper is divided in 7 days, with three different routes you can go through from Day 6 onwards. So really, I need to write and code 11 days. Which puts me at almost ⅓ through development! WOAHRGH!?? At this point, I know where the story is going, I know what each route will consist of, etc. I just don’t know the Details. The portraits are all done, backgrounds are done sequentially for every day, gameplay is all figured out… TLDR: It’s In Good Shape!!!

“That was a good short paragraph, but can I have the detailed timeline of the game. Please.” ok fine you asked for it.

The Big Timeline (and some images!) under the cut

📚 this image was made so early in development, it didn't even have Betz's shibari-like pink harness

TRUTH SCRAPPER TIMELINE

DEC 2022: I finish ISAT around NOV 2022. I get an idea. I write it down. It was going to be an RPG but nobody got time for that. Main themes and ending are here. I work on pre-production very slowly over the next couple months (because I am recovering from finishing ISAT and still gotta keep working on post-production stuff for ISAT)

JULY 2023: Ok fine let's make a renpy file and figure out if the most important gameplay thing can be done. AKA: can I make a book menu where the game remembers the choices you make, and how complicated is that gonna be for me to add to it down the line. It works and I am happy

📚 this image was made so early in development, it just looks very bad

AUGUST 2023: Character design. They look Not Great and character design takes me like nine months. Plot is getting somewhere though!

NOV 2023: In Stars and Time comes out. People like it I think.

MARCH 2024: I decide I need to work on something, and decide to work on that and apply for the Ontario Creates grant. This game is actually starting for realsies!!!!!!!

MAY 2024: I actually lock down character designs.

JUNE 2024: I hire Dora, who was the producer of In Stars and Time and who rules.

📚 dora and i signing our lives to one another on discord. the bond between a creator and their producer can never be broken

SEPT 2024: I work on da gaem

MAY 2025: Day 3 is implemented. We announce the game. Now we’re here!!!!

Alright, that’s it for today! This first devlog is more about telling you where the game is at, and every month you will have a whole new devlog where I can tell you about all the great things I did that month for the game. You can even comment with questions and I might answer them one day. Ok. Thank you. And as always, DON'T FORGET TO WISHLIST THE GAME ALSO IT REALLY HELPS BECAUSE STEAM’S ALGORITHM IS MORE LIKELY TO SHOW OFF GAMES WITH A HIGH AMOUNT OF WISHLISTS THATS THE REASON WHY GAME DEVS ALWAYS ASK TO WISHLIST!!! OKAY BYE!!!!

Links! 📚 Official Website 📚 Join the Discord 📚 Sign up for my mailing list 📚 Follow Truth Scrapper on Bluesky 📚 Follow ME on Bluesky

[3motionally3xhausted]

Redesigning the Fentons!!

Hi yes this is for yet another Danny Phantom AU of mine it has nothing to do with the Apprenticeship AUs but unlike that batch I actually wanna turn this AU into a fic eventually once I get through a few other big projects I have *sobs*

Anyway individual files for each character under the cut along with my obligatory rambling about all the choices I made ;)

Jazz! Honestly, when I was a kid, I always thought she was 18 not 16 so it was kind of a shock when I started rewatching the show about a yr ago and heard that. Anyway, she's 17 in this AU but already moved out to college on a scholarship bc living in FentonWorks is kind of hell and she has that Older Sibling Guilt for leaving Danny there. For her clothes, I wanted it to be a mix of tactical and preppy.

Danny! (Fenton) The effects of FentonWorks hell is much more visible on Danny than Jazz because she got out of there as soon as she could. Because of that though, a lot of the chores in the lab got pushed onto Danny, without passing on many safety tips, like replacing the ecto-filtrator, cleaning contaminated tools, organizing ecto-weapons, etc. And because he doesn't know any better when it comes to safety, he has many symptoms of radiation poisoning: visually, this comes through in the discoloration/scarring on his skin (Jazz has some slight scarring on her face and hands as well), the cataract on his left eye, as well as burst blood vessels in that eye. For his clothes, I wanted them to look a bit ragged and worn through ripped seams, tears in the jeans, & duct tape around his shoe.

Danny! (Phantom) I don't actually have a lot to SAY about my choics, but I am really happy with it. There are still a few things. I wanted his hair as Fenton & Phantom to be different but still reminiscent of the simplistic rendering of the original show: Fenton is kind of timid so his hair falls over his face, & Phantom is more active/aggressive so his hair is pushed upward. The only other thing I want to comment on is his skin: it's kind of about how I usually stylize Phantom (and I mentioned this when I redesigned Dani a while back) but a "healthy" Phantom in my style would have more bright cyan skin and an unhealthy Phantom has a more dull/zombie green. And lastly, as a ghost, the radiation poisoning kind of cleans up into more neat scarring rather than the muddy/bleeding look as Fenton.

Maddie! Now, I'm gonna be honest, real vulnerable here,... I hate Maddie's canon haircut. It's ugly, I'm not sorry. But I can modify it, so it's fine: now it's curlier, a bit darker, and has a few grey streaks bc she's a genius and constantly pulling long working hours. And, it didn't come across as much as I wanted, but she's got some biceps, strong lady. Now, I'm not really sure why, but I wanted to shift the color of her and Jack's jumpsuit, making hers much more desaturated.

Jack! Big guy. I don't have many thoughts about him either, but I did give him glasses and some stubble for a little bit more dad energy (?) I mainly changed the color of his jumpsuit bc Orange is an extremely hard color for me to render for some reason, so now it's the classic Hazard Yellow. Finally, the most notable difference is the coat I put on him for a bit more scientist energy but my main reasoning for it is the potential visual of him being an absolute tank jumping from overhead with the ghost gauntlets and his coat flapping behind him. Also, I generally like the idea of him presenting himself as a big, dumb teddy-bear, always smiling, but completely unhinged below that facade: dropping the smile or not while towering over you in shadow. Wild imagery.

FINAL THOUGHTS: Do not count on any actual steps towards creating this fic in the near future, it's just on my mind right now, but I NEED to finish my other projects first 🙏🙏🙏 That said, I will (eventually) get around to a handful more character redesigns for this AU including: Vlad, Sam, Tucker, Valerie, Paulina, and maybe Lancer & Dash

[slashire]

beneath the surface

Summary: when going alone after the potential unsub doesn't end up too well on readers behalf. Spencer is a worried wreck.

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Genre: angst, comfort

Warnings: near death experience

WC: 2377

The fluorescent lighting in the briefing room cast a pale-yellow hue over the case files, giving the photographs and evidence a sickly glow. You leaned over the table, fingers smudged with ink from your notes, brows furrowed in thought. The unsub was meticulous, brilliant, even. His kills were cold and calculated, each more daring than the last. He left behind riddles, like breadcrumbs scattered for whoever was clever enough to follow.

Spencer stood across from you, arms crossed tight, eyes flicking between the crime scene photos and the string of coded notes the unsub had left behind. You caught him watching you once, a second too long, and he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the board.

“He's getting bolder,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the silence. “Every kill is a step closer to..something. Like he's building toward something final.”

He nodded, his voice quiet but sharp. “He's escalating because he wants us to see him. Not just catch him, understand him. He's daring us to keep up.”

You glanced back at the board. “Then let's catch up.”

A soft chime broke the moment. Garcia's voice came through the speakerphone, brisk and focused. “Sweethearts, I've got a blip for you. One of the attendants just called in a guy matching our unsub, paranoid, jumpy, drove off fast. Matches the car type from the last scene.”

Hotch pointed at the map. “That's well outside our current radius.”

You stepped forward, already grabbing your jacket. “I'll go check it out.”

Spencer's head snapped toward you. “You shouldn't go alone.”

You gave him a tight smile. “I'll radio in every five minutes. It's probably nothing.”

Morgan was already shrugging on his vest. “I'll head out with-”

Hotch cut in. “No, Morgan, I need you here in case he circles back. Y/N, take a vest. We’ll stay in touch.”

Spencer didn't speak, he looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't. You just gave him a quick, confident smile, your heart beating just a little faster. You had not been able to shake the tension of this case, it had gotten under your skin. And now, with a potential lead, the chance to move, to act, was too tempting to ignore.

You felt the weight of his stare as you walked out the door. You didn't see the way his jaw clenched when you turned away, you didn't know that he stood frozen for a moment after, torn between duty and something he didn't yet know how to name. You didn't hear him whisper under his breath, “Be careful.”

The road out to creek ridge was long and winding, bordered on both sides by towering pines and brush so dense It swallowed sound. Your phone rested in the passenger seat, screen glowing softly with the GPS map. The gas station blip had disappeared, but the road was still fresh with tire marks, and your gut told you this was right.

A sliver of pink burned across the horizon as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the pavement, you clicked the radio mic.

“Unit 12, heading east on creek road. Still no visual, but the road looks recently traveled. Will report back in five.”

Emilys voice crackled back. “Copy that. Stay alert.” 

Your fingers tapped the wheel as you drove, trying to calm the jittery feeling climbing up your spine. Something about this guy.. It wasn't just that he was smart. He was strategic. Precise. And worse, he was watching them. Every move you made felt like it was being shadowed.

You slowed your vehicle as the road narrowed, curving alongside a wooded ravine, the creek was visible to your left, water glinting in the fading light. Itt was quiet, eerily so. No birds. No wind. Just the crunch of gravel under your tires.

A flicker in the rearview mirror caught your attention.

Headlights.

Far too close.

You frowned, adjusting the mirror. The car had come out of nowhere. No sign of it before. No sound.

You reached for your radio. “Possible tail. One vehicle, dark sedan, no plates visible. Keeping distance for now.”

You waited for a response, but the radio buzzed with static.

You tried again.

Nothing.

The hairs on your arms stood up.

Then the headlights surged forward, and slammed into your bumper with a sickening jolt.

You screamed, jerking the wheel, tires skidding as the sudden impact sent you veering toward the shoulder. The gravel gave way beneath the weight of your car. You tried to correct, but another impact sent you sideways. Your body snapped forward, hitting the seatbelt hard.

The world tilted.

The metal guardrail shattered with a shriek of bending steel, and the front of your vehicle pitched over the edge. The sensation of falling, weightless, breathless, gripped your chest.

Then, again.

Crash 

Water erupted around you like shattered glass, slamming into the undercarriage with a bone-jarring crash. The world spun in a dizzying spiral as the front of your car smashed through the surface and plunged beneath. The initial shock of the cold was so violent it stole the air from your lungs. The scream died in your throat as your seat belt snapped you back against the seat. Your head whipped forward, Crack. Pain lanced through your skull. Everything blurred.

You blinked slowly. Lights flickered on the dash, dim and failing. Water hissed in though the floorboards, ice-cold and fast. Within seconds, it was up to your ankles. The cabin creaked under the pressure, metal groaning as the car settled deeper into the riverbed, rocked gently by the current like a cradle.

You tried to breathe. Your chest was tight. Too tight. 

You reached for the seat belt but your arm trembled uncontrollably, numb fingers slick with blood from the gash on your forehead. Your vision tunneled, black creeping in at the corners. The radio beside you sparked, then died.

You weren't sure how long it had been. A minute? Less?

You were tilted at an angle, the care nose first in the water. The back remained just barely above the surface, you were lucky- or unlucky. You weren't fully submerged. Not yet.

The water climbed to your knees.

Your breath caught. A shiver racked your body.

You didn't feel brave. You didn't feel like an agent.

You felt small. Helpless.

Cold.

Alone.

Then everything slowed.

Your heartbeat thudded in your ears, dull and distant. You slumped to the side, your temple resting against the driver's side window. Your eyes fluttered. Blood trickled down your cheek, mixing with the rising water. You could hear it now, lapping gently, like a lullaby.

And then-

Darkness.

Reid had never run so fast in his life.

By the time the SUV skidded to a stop near the broken guardrail, his hands were already fumbling with the door. Gravel flew under his boots as he sprinted forward. Trees whipped past him. Morgan was close behind, calling something, but Spencer barely heard him over the pounding in his chest.

Then he saw it.

Your car, sunk halfway into the river, roof just visible, back end barely afloat. A silver glint beneath the trees.

He nearly tripped down the embankment, heart in his throat.

“Y/N!” he shouted, splashing into the frigid water without hesitation. “She's in there! She's in the car!”

Morgan caught up, eyes wide with horror. “We need extraction- fast!”

But Reid was already at the window.

You were inside.

Slumped. Still.

Your head tilted against the glass, lips slightly parted, face ghost- pale beneath a smear of blood.

“No,” he breathed, the word ripped from somewhere deep. “No, no, no- Y/N!”

He slammed his hands against the window, fists thudding against the glass so hard his knuckles burned. The cold didn't register, only the sight of you inside the car, motionless, your face half-submerged in the rising, frigid water.

“Y/N-” his voice broke.

Your head looked slightly to the side, the cut on your temple still bleeding into the flood inside the car. The water had risen past your chest. Your mouth was just above the line, barely breathing space left.

Panic surged like fire in his throat.

“Reid, we've gotta move, this things going under,” Morgan barked behind him, already grabbing a rock from the shoreline.

The river snarled around them, cold and black, lapping against the windows as the car shifted, creaked, tilted.

His heart slammed against his ribs. The windshield was already glazed with fog. He dropped to his knees in the water, hands clawing at the driver's side door, yanking the handle with all the strength he had. Locked.

“Come on, come on- please,” he whispered, as if begging for the car itself.

Morgan appeared beside him again, raising the rock high. “Back up!”

Reid flinched as the window exploded inward in a shower of glass. A wave of water crashed into the cabin.

And then he was moving, reaching in, hands plunging into the freezing dark. It hit his chest like a wall of ice. He ignored it.

He found your shoulder first. Then your face. Cold. still.

“No-no, no come on,” he muttered, fumbling blindly for the seatbelt. The current inside the car was swirling violently now, yanking at his arms, dragging you deeper. His fingers slipped, twice, then finally latched onto the buckled.

It clicked free.

You collapsed into his arms.

He pulled you from the wreckage with a choked breath, wrapping both arms around your torso, cradling your head against his chest. Your limbs were heavy. No resistance.

Morgan was there, hauling the two of you back with sheer force, dragging you up the muddy bank as the car groaned one last time and slid fully beneath the surface.

Spencer laid you down on the gravel, dropping beside you on his knees.

“Y/N?” he gasped.

Nothing.

Your lips were blue. Chest still. Water clung to your lashes like frost.

“No, no- don't-” he pressed his ear to your chest. No rhythm. Just silence.

He started compression without thinking.

“One, two, three, four…” he counted under his breath, voice raw and breaking. “Don't do this..don't-”

Your body jerked under his hands.

Still nothing.

“Come on, you stubborn- please.” he begged, titling your head back and forcing a breath into your lungs.

The second time,

You gasped.

Water burst from your lips as you turned your head and coughed violently, choking on air and river water and pain. Spencer caught you before you could slump again, his hand behind your neck, the other grasping your shoulder like he was afraid you’d slip away.

“I've got you,” he breathed, voice hoarse and shaking. “You're okay. You're safe now.”

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused. “S’cold…” 

“I know. I know. Just hold on.”

The sirens grew louder in the distance. Flashing red cut through the trees. But he didn't look up.

All he saw was you.

Alive.

And still in his arms.

Two hours later- St. Joseph’s Trauma Unit

The fluorescent lights hummed quietly above your bed, casting everything in a pale, washed out glow. You lay beneath a tangle of warm hospital blankets, an oxygen cannula thread gently under your nose, a heart monitor beeping steadily to your right.

You weren’t awake yet. Not fully. But your fingers twitched now and then, just enough to keep Spencer from falling apart.

He sat beside you in the narrow chair, soaked clothes long replaced with scrubs someone had handed him without asking. His hands still shook faintly. They were clasped in his lap now, his finger interlocked so tightly the joints ached, but he didn't loosen them.

He hasn't moved since they brought you in.

The doctors said you'd be okay. A concussion. Mild hypothermia. Laceration to your temple. You were lucky, they said.

But Spencer didn't feel lucky.

He kept replaying the moment your lungs stutterd back to life in his arms, the way your head lolled before you gasped, the second where you'd stopped being a person and started to feel like a memory. He hadn't known terror like that. Not even close.

He reached out now, gently brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek. His fingers hovered over your skin for a moment longer than they should've .He dropped his hand before he could think too hard about it.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered, voice too low for anyone but you to hear. “You always run toward danger. You never stop to think if anyone would care.”

His throat tightened.

“Well, I would.”

There was a long silence.

Then,

A soft inhale. Shallow, but steady.

Your lashes twitched. Brows furrowed. You blinked slowly, eyes glassy and unfocused as the world came back to you in pieces. The sterile air. The beep of machines. The dull ache pulsing at your temple.

And then,

Spencer. 

Sitting beside you, soaked to the bone in memory, but still here.

Your mouth moved dry. “Spence..?”

He leaned in immediately, eyes wide with relief. “Hey. Hey, you're okay. You're at the hospital. You're safe.” 

You tried to sit up, winced, and sank back with a quiet groan. “What happened..?”

“You were run off the road. Into the river.” his voice dipped, rough at the edges. “We got you out. You.. you stopped breathing for a minute. But you came back.”

You stared at him, confused. “You were there?”

“I never left.” his voice broke slightly. “I couldn't.”

You were silent for a moment. And then, barely audible-

“You saved my life.”

He let out a breath, shaking his head slowly. “You don't need to thank me.”

“I do.” your hand shifted weekly beneath the blanket, reaching toward him.

He took it.

Your fingers were still cool, but they curled around his like they belonged there.

“I thought I was going to die in that car,” you whispered.

His grip tightened. “Not on my watch.”

And for a long time, neither of you spoke. The beeping filled the space between words that didn't need to be said yet, but hung there, quietly, waiting.