#opera ask challenge

[amazingdeadfish]

Do u think u could make an opera version of mayor? I've seen a few artists make diff opera wukong/Mac designs but I think a opera mayor design would look very cool :D

Not gonna lie, I was nervous to do this, but, I don't regret trying out this challenge.

RAMBLES + (literally only two) REFERANCES BELOW THE CUT:

The costume is based on the classic armor outfit in Chinese Peking Opera. Since, we all know that the Mayor doesn't actually have that many identifiable characteristics or, much of a role in the LMK show other than being LBD's foot soldier or, thrall. So, I had to reflect that in what's probably an incredibly basic interpretation for what their design could be (because if you actually see the insane level amount of detail in peking opera outfits, you'll understand that this drawing is heavily simplified and lacks detail).

The mask, is, also simple. I tried to look at numerous references and get my head around the insane amount of possibilities of patterns and designs and what they mean, as well as what the colours symbolize, but all that's important is that blue symbolizes stoicism, black for integrity, and white symbolizes evil (but of course these meanings for colours have leeway in between depending on what source you look at. There is no definitive answer).

The mask is also important because it creates the most visual distinction from Mayor being a Jing instead of a Sheng (male protagonist). And, even though it's a basic mask, I did create it to imply an almost 'skull' shape to it. But it's discrete and, you have to be looking for it to be there (which I suppose fits because, Mayor being LBD's thrall wasn't revealed straight away)

Now okay look, I'm- I'm not an expert on peking opera at all, I had to do a bit or research to do this in order to actually understand what I am doing when it comes to designing an outfit for Mayor. You might see a hint of his Chief costume in the chest plate I decided to keep, and all those skull motifs to show that he is a thrall of Lady Bone Demon. But in short, he is a warrior, a soldier, a chief of war, and he fights and works for Lady Bone Demon. He is to be a character with heavy, dramatic armor, and a mask to not only symbolize his role in whatever theatre show he lands himself in, but also for the shrouded identity he has and, well, not exactly being the most in-depth or open character in the show :))).

Anyways, here's a beta design back when I legitimately had no idea what I was doing and had done like zero research apart from looking at references I lied and, thinking Mayor would have a 'lighter (less heavy) and less decorative outfit (clearly I changed my mind later on):

I am, glad I did not follow through with this design. This is, not a peking opera outfit. Not a conventional one at least, that would reflect who the Mayor is (because this mf is conventional as hell, fitting in with modern times with his suit and all).

And here are the, uh, two references I used (obviously there's more but, these two were the ones I really picked apart and analyzed and, have clearly referenced):

And yes, I copied the pose on the right.

Design is welcome for critique (again, I am not an expert on peking opera (it's such a vast, complex, and wonderful artform that the more I found out the more I was intimidated by) and possibly subjected to be redesigned later on should I look back on this months-years later and cringe horrifically.

[ablatheringblatherskite]

How about 20 with Raoul and Christine?

I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED!! So sorry it took so long!!! I blame it all on editing ���

So the song I got for this is Johnny Can't Decide from Tick, Tick... Boom!

And so the result of that song paired with these characters ended up being this!:

Summary:

He was lost. He had never been so lost in his entire life. Raoul is haunted by his thoughts, his love, and that dreaded opera ghost—but most especially by a decision he is not sure he has the right to make.

Anyway this fic was definitely a CHALLENGE to write because I don't normally write internal monologues, but it was so fun!! Thank you again for sending me this ask!! This is officially my first posted Phantom of the Opera fic!! WOOOOOOO!! Hope you like it!! 🥹

(I also hope you don't mind that Christine isn't actually IN the fic, since she's still a big part of it!)

Send me a number and a character(s) and I'll write something based on the number it lands on in my Spotify Wrapped!

[fireworkss-exe]

love making sort of crack musical aus for non musical movies

[pinkiemachine]

ALSO, for my Legend of Korra Rewrite, there’s an opera house in Republic City, and they do their own production of “The Boy in the Iceberg.”

It’s heavily inspired by Beijing/Peking Opera, native to China, and I’ve been having way too much fun writing this truly ridiculous, over romanticised version of the original AtLA story 😂 First off, the costumes and props—Now, Peking Opera has a set of rules/guidelines for what colours mean what, which costumes go to what kind of character, and which face paint is appropriate for this and that person, but hardly any of it aligns with the world of AtLA, so it will have its own rules. Naturally, the people are colour coded. Blue = Water Tribe, Red = Fire Nation, Green = Earth kingdom, Yellow = Air Bender. How can you tell if a character is royalty or super important? If they’re wearing any kind of elaborate headpiece. How can you tell who the Avatar is? The Avatar alone has special face paint that covers his entire face. Also, how light or dark their clothing is can inform you of their badness level, and also also, if a character’s hands are covered, it usually means they are hiding something or are very sly and cunning.

Then there’s the bending. Airbending is represented by the staff illustrated above, with two tufts of blue fluffy stuff on either end, similar to what the Ember Island Players did. This prop is very similar to a real one used in Peking Opera. Waterbending is achieved in two forms, either with long sleeves or ribbons, both used for dancing. Also straight from Peking Opera. Fire Bending is achieved through flags/staffs very similar to Peking Opera and the Ember Island Players alike. Finally, Earthbending comes across more like hand-to-hand combat in the choreography, because they use large fans to represent their element, inspired by Kiyoshi, and real life Peking Opera.

Now, the story is hilariously fun—it’s been eighty years since the events of the war, and the story has been dramatised to the Poles and back—so strap in and just imagine what the Gaang would be saying in reaction to all of this 😂

Once, there was a prince and a princess of the Southern Water Tribe. Prince Sokka was a brave and mighty warrior, and Princess Katara was the most beautiful and intelligent woman in all the South Pole. One day, they happened across a glowing iceberg, and from within emerged the Avatar! Avatar Aang was a very playful and mischievous boy (think “The Monkey King”), and upon seeing the beautiful Princess Katara, he immediately fell in love and proposed to her. But the mighty Prince Sokka took offence at such cheekiness, and challenged Avatar Aang to a duel to defend his sister’s honour. Here we have the first of many action scenes. Ultimately, Avatar Aang defeats the prince, proving his worth and proving that he is in fact the real Avatar, but when he asks the princess again if she’ll marry him, she replies that she might, if he can teach her to waterbend.

It’s about this time that Zuko, the Banished Prince of the Fire Nation, and his uncle, General Iroh, the Dragon of the West, arrive to capture the Avatar!

They are unsuccessful of course, and Team Avatar escapes. They go to the Southern Air Temple where Avatar Aang grieves the loss of his people, and then he suddenly gets a vision from his past life, Avatar Roku. Here, it is explained that Sozin’s comet is fast approaching, and Avatar Aang must learn all four elements before it comes, or else the whole world will burn. Having received his instructions, the team sets a course for the North Pole. (Oh, and Momo is represented by an actor who’s a type of “clown” as Peking Opera puts it. There to be the comic relief. Not sure if I want the same for Appa…)

At the North Pole, Aang and Katara learn waterbending, and the Chief throws a massive party to celebrate the return of the Avatar. This is where Prince Sokka meets Princess Yue of the Northern Tribe, and they fall madly in love. But it is not to last. Zuko and Iroh have arrived with a Fire Nation fleet and lay siege to the city of the North. In their darkest hour, just before the city falls, Princess Yue sacrifices herself to the Moon Spirit, saving everyone, but losing her mortality in the process. It is said that she now lives on the moon, weeping to this very day for the loss of her one true love. (Keeping in mind, Tui and La are now a state secret, as no one wants a repeat of “Admiral Zhao,” who coincidentally, is nothing but a footnote in the history books due the secrecy of the moon and ocean spirit’s physical home.)

Then, of course, the second act begins with Avatar Aang asking if Katara will marry him now that she’s learned Waterbending. But the princess is far too crafty for him, and becomes sly yet again. This time she says, she might marry him if he can find for her the impossibly rare Panda Lily. Aang is determined, though it may take him a while.

Team Avatar journeys to the Earth Kingdoms in search of an Earthbending master. Now, although the rumours of Toph being a man did stick around for quite a while (helped in no small part by Toph herself) eventually the truth comes out, and the play is amended accordingly. HOWEVER… no one is convinced that Toph is an ordinary human, oh no no no. They believe, whole heartedly, that she is a direct descendant of the badgermoles themselves, and is therefore some kind of half-human-half-spirit type being who sprouted up out of the ground one day. They fear her. As they should.

So Azula and her girlies make their appearance and they and Team Avatar make their way to Ba Sing Se, where they run into Zuko and Iroh, officially outcast from the royal Fire Nation family for failing to capture the Avatar at the Siege of the North. Azula infiltrates the city by impersonating the Kiyoshi warriors (who mysteriously replace the Dai Li in this story, and all mention of the city being controlled by a puppet master and brainwashing people is also mysteriously absent) and we meet Suki, leader of the Kiyoshi warriors, and she and Sokka begin to fall in love. Then, Aang manages to find the rare Panda Lily, but he’s not able to give it to Katara because the Last Stand of Ba Sing Se begins. There’s a massive fight at the palace, and Aang gets struck by lightning and falls into Princess Katara’s arms, trying to give her that Panda Lily she asked for. Then he falls into slumber as Princess Katara weeps. Zuko joins his sister Azula, Iroh is captured, and team Avatar flees.

That night, Katara begs the spirits to spare Avatar Aang, and Yue appears, bringing Aang back to life. It’s at this time that she gives the team a grave warning about the journey ahead of them. She reveals to them that the Day of Black Sun may aid them in their fight against the Fire Nation, and she also gives Sokka a special gift: a sword carved from moon rock. May it serve him well.

End of act two.

Act three begins with the mighty Sokka rallying all their allies together to launch an assault on the Fire Nation on the Day of Black Sun. Meanwhile, the Fire Prince Zuko battles with himself over his decision to betray his uncle and join his sister. He thinks of his mother, and how she would not have wanted him to follow the path of his father, Firelord Ozai. On the Day of Black Sun, he chooses to redeem himself by helping Avatar Aang defeat the Firelord once and for all. The battle was fierce—Princess Katara feared that she might lose Avatar Aang yet again—but when they arrived at his palace, no one was home. The Firelord was very crafty. He devised a labyrinth beneath his palace in which to hide, and he evaded the Avatar until the eclipse was over. The day was lost. Team Avatar was forced to retreat. However, now Aang had a Firebending Master to teach him the final element.

After much training, and much preparation, Aang was ready to face Firelord Ozai on the day that Sozin’s Comet came ripping across the sky. He tried to ask Princess Katara one last time if she would marry him, and this time she replied that if he survived his fight with the Firelord… she would marry him.

It began. Prince Sokka, Warrior Suki, and Master Toph led the charge against the Firelord’s army. Prince Zuko and Princess Katara held off Princess Azula, and Avatar Aang took on Firelord Ozai alone. Using all that they had learned across their journey, fuelled by the power of friendship and love, Team Avatar prevailed. The Firelord’s army fell, Princess Azula fell, and finally, Firelord Ozai himself fell before the mighty Avatar Aang. (Aang’s ability to energybend remains a secret.) And in the end, Prince Zuko took the throne of the Fire Nation, Prince Sokka took the throne of the South Pole with Suki as his queen, Toph became known as the greatest Earthebnder in the world, uncle Iroh opened the best tea shop in the world, and Princess Katara agreed to marry Avatar Aang. It was a happy ending indeed.

Can’t wait to finish the costume designs! Let me know what you think!

[jenosonlywife23]

No Nut November Regrets

summary; nnn with jaehyun but he actually regrets it cause his about to enlist and his devasted cause he should have used those days to bang you up teehee!!!

a/n; Lets pretend he still hasnt enlisted lol.

-------------------------------------------------------

Jaehyun’s pacing your bedroom like a man possessed, muttering to himself with his hands in his hair.

"Are you okay?" you ask, half-laughing at his dramatic behavior. He’s been acting weird ever since he got home.

"No, I’m not okay," he blurts out, turning to face you with a look of absolute despair. "I’ve made a grave mistake."

You tilt your head, trying to stifle a smile. "What, did you lose a bet? Forgot your phone at the gym again?"

He stares at you like you’ve missed the point of life itself. "Worse. I wasted an entire month."

You blink, thoroughly confused. "A month on what? Your skincare routine? 'Cause, babe, you look amazing—"

He groans, cutting you off. "No Nut November."

There’s a beat of silence before you burst out laughing. "Oh my God, that’s what this is about? Are you serious?"

"I’m dead serious!" he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "Do you know how much time we could’ve spent—" He stops, rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to find the words.

"Spent...?" you prompt, clearly enjoying his struggle.

He sighs deeply, his ears turning red. "Banging," he finally mutters, avoiding your gaze.

You choke on your laughter, clutching your stomach. "Are you actually upset you didn’t? What happened to self-control, proving something to yourself, all that motivational crap you were preaching?"

"That was before I knew I was enlisting!" he practically yells, throwing himself onto the bed like a soap opera heroine. "I thought I had time. But now? Now I’ve got weeks—weeks, baby! And I just... I feel like I’ve betrayed us both."

You sit beside him, trying to hold back your laughter. "So, let me get this straight. You’re mad because you spent thirty days not having sex with me, and now you think you’ve wasted your youth?"

"Exactly!" He sits up, his expression so sincere it makes you want to both laugh and kiss him. "I thought I was doing something noble. But now all I can think about is how many times we could’ve—"

"Jaehyun!" you cut him off, cheeks burning.

"No, listen!" he insists, gripping your hands like he’s about to deliver the speech of a lifetime. "We could’ve been doing it every night, every morning, maybe even on lunch breaks. Do you know how much catching up we have to do now?"

You’re crying with laughter at this point, collapsing onto the bed. "You’re ridiculous."

He flops beside you, throwing an arm over his eyes dramatically. "Ridiculous and horny," he declares. "And I’ve got no time to fix it."

"Well," you say, leaning over him with a sly smile, "we’ve got tonight. Think you can make up for thirty days in one go?"

He peeks at you from under his arm, his eyes narrowing like he’s accepting a challenge. "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea."

[infamous-if]

I love how infamous is a masterpiece of unoriginality. It takes every possible rock band cliché, sticks them together with minimal effort, and calls it a story. The whole thing feels like a rejected script for a bad soap opera that somehow managed to weasel its way onto the internet. And don't even get me started on the emotionally exhausting ROs no one asked for. Let’s be real, the romance options in Infamous are just moody messes waiting to drain you of any energy. Want to play therapist to a tortured soul with commitment issues? Or babysit someone whose emotional stability is as shaky as the band’s career? Welcome to Infamous, where all the ROs are there to make you question your life choices—and not in the fun way. The Plot? Nonexistent, don’t worry. Who needs an actual storyline when you can just string together a bunch of angst-filled scenes and call it a day? The author must’ve thought, “What if I just didn’t bother with a plot at all?” So instead, you get a collection of sad, disjointed events that vaguely resemble a story if you squint. Writing quality? Eh, who needs it: From clunky dialogue to forced drama, the writing in Infamous feels like the author just threw words at a page and hoped for the best. It’s practically a masterclass in “good enough” writing—if by “good enough,” you mean “barely tolerable.” It’s almost like the main goal was to make Infamous as unoriginal and shallow as possible. Like, did they even try? Probably not. The whole thing reeks of “I read one too many fanfics and thought, ‘Hey, I could do that!’” Spoiler: they couldn’t. In short, Infamous is less a story and more a chaotic, poorly executed mess that somehow escaped the author’s drafts folder. If it’s supposed to be a game, the only real challenge is making it through without rolling your eyes.

I love how infamous is a masterpiece

you think my story is a masterpiece?

[octaneink]

Could you do some dating willne headcannons or some willne smut but like in an established relationship? I’m obsessed with your fics, I swear I’ve read them so much I could recite them from memory 😭😭

Ahhh thank you so much for the kind words! I'm really happy that you like what I've written. I've never done headcannons or write smut lol so bear with me. I don't really know how to write smut ngl so I hope you like the spice (I think thats spicy? I don't know) at the end, I've never really written anything lke that before so I hope its...realistic?

Warning for some steamy stuff at the end!

Dating Will Lenney Headcanons

Playful Banter

In your relationship with Will, playful banter is the base of your dynamic, and he uses it to keep things light, fun, and endlessly entertaining. Whether you’re curled up on the couch, out for a walk, or in the middle of a mundane task, Will’s teasing is a constant—a reminder of how much he adores you.

He’s the kind of person who can’t resist poking fun at your quirks, but it’s always done with so much affection that it never feels mean-spirited. For example, if you’re watching one of your favourite romantic series for the hundredth time, he’ll lean over with a smirk and say, “Oh, this again? Let me guess—they’ll hate each other, then fall in love, and you’ll cry even though you know exactly how it ends.” But then he’ll stay right there beside you, secretly enjoying how much you love it—and secretly enjoying the series himself. He’d never admit it out loud, but he’s grown fond of the predictable charm of your go-to media.

Will’s teasing isn’t just one-sided, though. I think he’d love it if you gave as good as you get. If you catch him singing off-key in the shower, you’ll absolutely call him out on it. “Wow, I didn’t know cats could sing opera,” or something, and he’ll laugh so hard he almost slips. Or if he’s trying to fix something around the house, and it goes wrong, you’ll be there with a camera and a sarcastic comment like, “Handyman of the year, everyone.” He’ll pretend to be offended, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away.

The best part is how his teasing always comes with an undercurrent of love. He’ll joke about your “weirdly specific and unnecessarily complex” coffee order, but he’ll still remember it perfectly and surprise you with it on a rough day. And if anyone else dares to tease you, he’s quick to jump to your defence, proving that his playful jabs are reserved for him alone.

Your banter becomes a language of its own—a way to say “I love you” without actually saying it. It’s in the way he grins when you roll your eyes at his jokes, the way he nudges you gently when you’re being stubborn. The way he always knows exactly how to make you laugh, even on your worst days. With Will, every day feels like a game, and you’re both winning.

Supportive Partner

In your relationship with Will, his unwavering support is one of the things you cherish most. He’s not just your partner—he’s your biggest cheerleader, your hype man, and your safe haven all rolled into one. No matter what you’re going through, whether it’s chasing a dream, tackling a new challenge, or just having a rough day, Will is always there to lift you up and remind you of your worth.

When you decide to try something new—whether it’s skating, learning an instrument, or even something as simple as baking a complicated recipe—Will will be the first to encourage you. He’ll sit with you while you practice, offering gentle advice when you ask for it and cheering you on even when you feel like giving up. “You’re a natural,” he’ll say, even if your first attempt at playing the guitar sounds more like a cat in distress. “Seriously, I’ve never heard anyone make that chord sound so… unique.” His teasing is always light-hearted, but it’s paired with genuine admiration for your willingness to try. And when you finally nail it? He’s beaming with pride, as if you’ve just won a Grammy. “Told you! I knew you could do it. Now play it again—I need this on video for when you’re famous.”

On tough days, Will’s support is a quiet, steady force. He has an uncanny ability to sense when you’re feeling down, even if you try to hide it. Without a word, he’ll wrap you in a hug, press a kiss to your forehead, and say, “Talk to me.” And when you do, he listens—actually listens. He doesn’t try to fix everything (unless you ask him to), but he’ll remind you of your strength and resilience. “You’ve got this,” he’ll say, his voice firm but gentle. “And even if you don’t feel like you do, I’ve got you. Always.”

Will’s encouragement isn’t just reserved for big moments, either. He celebrates the small victories with just as much enthusiasm. Did you survive a particularly gruelling day at work? He’ll show up with your favourite takeout and a movie, ready to pamper you. “You’re a rock star, and rock stars deserve the VIP treatment.”

But what makes Will’s support so special is how deeply personal it is. He pays attention to the little things—your favourite comfort foods, the way you light up when you talk about your passions. He knows when you need a pep talk, when you need a distraction, and when you just need someone to sit with you in silence. And he’s always there, without fail.

His belief in you is unshakeable. Even when you doubt yourself, he’s there to remind you of all the reasons you shouldn’t. “You’re brilliant, you’re kind, and you’re capable of anything you set your mind to,” he’ll say, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And if anyone says otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me.”

With Will by your side, you feel invincible. His support isn’t just words—it’s in the way he shows up for you, day after day, in big ways and small. He’s your partner, your teammate, and your biggest fan. And no matter what life throws your way, you know you’ll always have him in your corner, cheering you on every step of the way.

Car Rides

Car rides with Will are an experience in themselves. He’s always the one behind the wheel, and you’re perfectly content being his passenger princess. With you who's in control of the music, and you take full advantage of it. Whether you’re in the mood for girly pop, rock and roll, Afrobeats, jungle, reggae, or even a random playlist of your favourite guilty pleasures, Will never complains. He embraces it, turning every drive into a mini concert filled with laughter and the occasional side-eye from strangers at traffic lights.

You love how he lets you take charge of the aux, trusting your musical instincts even when your choices are… questionable. One day, you might blast upbeat pop anthems, singing at the top of your lungs as he chuckles beside you. “Okay, but why do I lowkey know all the words to this?” he’ll say, pretending to be embarrassed before joining in on the chorus. Another day, you might switch it up with some smooth reggae or high-energy Afrobeats, and he’ll bob his head along, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm. “You’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that,” he’ll tease, even if he’s secretly adding some of your songs to his own playlist.

The best moments are when you both get so into the music that you forget the world around you. You’ll be belting out a duet to some cheesy love song, completely off-key but having the time of your lives, when you catch people in the next car staring at you. Will, never one to back down from a bit of fun, will roll down the window and shout, “What? Never seen a Grammy-winning performance before?” before bursting into laughter and speeding off when the light turns green.

Long drives are your favourite. Whether it’s a road trip to somewhere new or just a leisurely cruise around town, the car becomes your little bubble of happiness. You’ll pack snacks, throw a blanket in the backseat just in case, and let the music set the mood. Will’s driving is smooth and confident, and you love how he occasionally reaches over to hold your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he focuses on the road. “You good over there, princess?” he’ll ask, glancing at you with a smile. And you’ll nod, feeling completely at ease because, with him, even the simplest moments feel special.

Sometimes, the drives are quiet, the music playing softly in the background as you both enjoy the comfortable silence. Other times, they’re filled with lively conversations, random debates, or Will’s hilarious commentary on whatever’s happening outside. “Did that guy just try to parallel park in one go? Bold move,” he’ll say, shaking his head in mock disbelief. Or, “That billboard says ‘World’s Best Coffee.’ Challenge accepted.” And just like that, you’re pulling into a random café to test their claim, laughing the entire time.

But no matter where you’re going or what you’re listening to, the car rides always feel like yours. It’s your space to be silly, to be serious, to be yourselves. And Will wouldn’t have it any other way.

Protective Side

Beneath Will’s laid-back, easygoing exterior I see lies a fiercely protective streak, especially when it comes to you. While he’s usually the type to brush things off with a joke or a sarcastic remark, the moment someone disrespects you or crosses a line, his playful demeanour is gone.

Will’s protectiveness isn’t the loud, over-the-top kind. It’s subtle but firm. He’s the type to notice things others might miss—a snide comment, a dismissive tone, or even a lingering look that makes you uncomfortable. And while he might not always call it out immediately (he prefers to gauge how you feel about it first), he’s always ready to step in at the moment you need him.

Like if someone makes a backhanded comment about you in a social setting, Will’s response is sharp but calculated. He’ll tilt his head, feigning confusion, and say something like, “Oh, I’m sorry—did you mean to say that out loud? Because it sounded like utter bullshit.” His tone is light, almost playful, but there’s an edge to it that makes it clear he’s not joking. And if the person tries to laugh it off or double down, he’ll hit them with a perfectly timed quip that leaves them speechless.

But it’s not just about witty comebacks. If someone genuinely hurts you—whether it’s a friend, a coworker, or even a stranger—he’s quick to reassure you that their behaviour says more about them than it does about you. “Anyone who can’t see how amazing you are doesn’t deserve a second of your time,” he’ll say, his voice soft but firm.

What makes Will’s protectiveness so endearing is how he balances it with respect for your independence. He never tries to fight your battles for you unless you ask him to. Instead, he understands that you can stand up for yourself and is often there offering quiet support and encouragement. “You don’t need me to defend you,” he’ll say with a grin. “You’re perfectly capable of putting people in their place. But just in case, I’ll be right here, ready to back you up.” (definitely would hold your earrings and purse if you were to scrap with someone)

And when it comes to physical safety, Will’s protective instincts kick into overdrive. If you’re walking home late at night, he’ll insist on accompanying you, even if it’s out of his way. If you’re feeling uneasy in a crowded place, he’ll subtly position himself between you and whatever—or whoever—is making you uncomfortable. And if anyone dares to threaten you, his calm, sarcastic facade drops entirely. He becomes a force to be reckoned with, his voice low and steady as he says, “You have one more chance to apologise and walk away before this gets ugly.”

With him by your side, you feel safe, cherished, and fiercely defended. And while you might not always need his protection, it’s comforting to know that, no matter what, Will will always have your back.

Surprise Dates

Between his busy schedule and the demands of everyday life, you make it a point to plan dates that are thoughtful, fun, and meaningful. You’ve made it a tradition to try something new at least once a month, while the other dates revolve around activities you both love. Whether it’s a spontaneous road trip, a nostalgic arcade night, or a fancy dinner at a place he’s been wanting to try, you always find ways to make him feel special—and he absolutely adores it.

You know how much Will appreciates surprises, so you’ve become a master at planning ahead. You keep a mental (or physical) list of things he mentions in passing—like a new restaurant he wants to check out, a movie he’s excited to see, or a place he’s always wanted to visit. Then, when the time is right, you spring the surprise on him. His face lights up every time, and the way he grins when he realises what you’ve planned is worth every bit of effort.

Another month, you might plan a random road trip to a nearby town neither of you has explored. You’ll pack a picnic, create a playlist of his favourite songs, and let him take the wheel. The excitement in his eyes when he realises where you’re headed is priceless. “You’re seriously the best,” he’ll say, squeezing your hand as he starts the car. Along the way, he’ll take detours to roadside attractions, insisting on stopping for silly photo ops and spontaneous adventures. “Look at this place!” he’ll exclaim, pulling over at a giant dinosaur statue or a retro diner. “We have to take a picture. This is peak road trip material.” And of course, you’ll oblige, laughing as he strikes ridiculous poses and insists on making the memories as over-the-top as possible (though he takes cute couple pictures as well).

And then there are the fancy dates—the ones where you pull out all the stops. You’ll book a table at that upscale restaurant he’s been talking about for weeks, or you’ll surprise him with tickets to a show or event he’s been dying to see. On those nights, you love seeing him dressed up, his usual casual vibe swapped for something more polished. “Look at you, all fancy,” you’ll tease, and he’ll shoot back with a smirk, “What can I say? I clean up nice. But not as nice as you.”

What makes these dates so special is how much thought you put into them. You know how busy Will’s schedule can be, so you always plan ahead to make sure the timing works. You’ll coordinate with his friends or coworkers if needed, and you’re not above bribing them with coffee or baked goods to keep the surprise under wraps. And when the day finally arrives, you love seeing the look on his face. “You planned all this for me?” he’ll ask, his voice soft with disbelief. “Of course I did,” you’ll reply, smiling. “You deserve it.”

But it’s not just about the big surprises. You also make time for the little things—like cosy movie nights at home, complete with his favourite snacks and a blanket fort, or lazy Sunday mornings where you cook breakfast together and spend hours talking and laughing. Those moments are just as important, and they remind you both why you fell in love in the first place.

With every date, whether big or small, you show Will how much he means to you. And in return, he makes sure you know how much he appreciates it. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he’ll say, pulling you close after a particularly memorable outing. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not letting you go.” And as you smile up at him, you know that these moments—these carefully planned, perfectly executed surprises—are what make your relationship so special.

Social Media PDA

I think Will is the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, and that extends to his social media presence. While he respects your desire to keep a low profile due to your job, he’s not shy about showing the world how much he adores you. His Instagram is a mix of his work, his hobbies, and, of course, glimpses of your relationship. He’s the type to post pictures of the two of you without a second thought, whether it’s a candid shot of you laughing at something he said or a cosy selfie from a date night. Or a goofy photo of you both making faces at the camera.

His captions are always playful and affectionate. “Caught this one mid-laugh. Guess I’m funnier than I thought” or “Date night with my favourite person. Don’t worry, I’ll bring her back in one piece.”. The comments are always flooded with fans gushing over how cute you two are together, and Will loves reading them, often showing you the funniest or sweetest ones with a proud grin. “Look, they’re saying we’re goals. Can’t argue with that.”

But it’s not just the photos. You occasionally pop up in the background of his videos, whether it’s a behind-the-scenes clip from one of his projects or a casual vlog. Sometimes it’s just your hand in the frame as you pass him a coffee, or your voice chiming in with a sarcastic comment that makes him burst out laughing. Fans have come to love these little moments, dubbing them “crumbs” and saying that they’re being “fed” whenever you make an appearance. “We see you back there!” they’ll comment, or “The way he looks at her when she talks… I can’t. 😭”

Will finds the whole thing hilarious and endearing. He loves how much his fans adore you, even though you’re not in the spotlight yourself. “They’re obsessed with you,” he’ll say, scrolling through the comments. “Can’t blame them, though. I’m obsessed with you too.” And while you prefer to stay out of the public eye, you can’t help but smile at the way he proudly includes you in his world, even if it’s just in small, subtle ways.

There are times when he’ll sneak in a little more PDA than usual, just to mess with you. Like the time he posted a video of the two of you cooking together, and he casually dropped a kiss on your forehead mid-sentence. The internet went wild, and you playfully scolded him for it later. “You’re such a show-off,” you said, and he just shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? I like showing the world how lucky I am.”

Despite his public displays of affection, Will is careful to respect your boundaries. He never shares anything too personal or invasive, and he always checks with you before posting something that features you prominently. “You good with this?” he’ll ask, showing you a photo or video before hitting post. And if you ever say no, he doesn’t hesitate to scrap it, no questions asked. “Your comfort comes first,” he’ll say, and it’s one of the many reasons you love him.

For Will, it’s simple: he’s proud of you, proud of your relationship, and he wants the world to know it. And even though you prefer to stay behind the scenes, you can’t help but feel a little flutter of happiness every time you see one of his posts and realise, all over again, just how much he loves you.

Spicy Headcanons

Rough or soft?

Will is the kind of partner who knows exactly what you need, even before you do. Whether it’s a night of tender affection or one where he pushes you to the edge, he always makes sure you feel safe, cherished, and utterly consumed by him.

Soft Moments

When the mood calls for softness, Will is all about making you feel adored. He’ll take his time, his touches gentle and deliberate, as if he’s memorising every inch of you. His kisses are slow and sweet, starting at your lips and trailing down your neck, your collarbone, and everywhere else he knows you love to be touched.

“You’re so beautiful,” he’ll murmur against your skin, his voice a low, soothing rumble that makes your heart swell. “I could spend forever like this, just you and me.” His hands will roam your body with reverence, tracing patterns that leave you shivering. He’ll whisper praise in your ear, telling you how perfect you are, how much he loves the way you respond to him, and how lucky he feels to have you in his arms.

These are the moments where he’s all about you—your pleasure, your comfort, your happiness. He’ll hold you close afterward, his fingers brushing through your hair as he presses soft kisses to your forehead. “You’re my everything,” he’ll say, and you’ll believe him, because in those moments, nothing else exists but the two of you.

Rough Moments

But then there are the nights when Will’s more dominant side takes over. It’s not about anger or frustration—it’s about trust, about pushing boundaries, and exploring the raw connection between you. On these nights, he’s in complete control, and he knows exactly how to make you unravel.

He’ll start slow, his touch firm but teasing, building you up until you’re trembling with need. But just when you’re about to tip over the edge, he’ll pull back, his grip tightening in your hair as he forces you to meet his gaze. “Not yet,” he’ll say, his commanding voice sending a thrill down your spine. “You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

He’ll edge you relentlessly, his hands and mouth working you to the brink over and over again until you’re a writhing, desperate mess. Tears might prick at the corners of your eyes, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you beg him for release. But he won’t give in—not until he’s sure you’ve reached your limit. “You can take it,” he’ll say, his tone equal parts challenge and reassurance. “I know you can.” Of course, you can; you haven’t said the safe word yet.

Foreplay

Will is the kind of man who takes his time, savouring every moment of intimacy with you. He’s not just interested in the end goal—he’s obsessed with the journey, with the way he can make you unravel under his touch. For Will, foreplay is an art form, and you are his masterpiece. He loves watching you moan, squirm, and barely hold onto yourself, knowing he’s the one driving you to the edge.

It starts with his hands, always so deliberate and sure. He’ll trace patterns along your skin, his fingertips leaving trails of fire in their wake. He loves the way you shiver under his touch, the way your breath hitches when he finds that one spot that makes you gasp. “You’re so sensitive,” he’ll murmur, the tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. “I love how you react to me.”

His mouth. Damn his mouth. He’ll press kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your stomach—everywhere but where you want him most, just to tease you. “Will,” you’ll whine, your hands tangling in his hair, and he’ll chuckle against your skin, the vibration making you squirm. “Patience, love,” he’ll say, his lips curving into a smirk. “I’m not done with you yet.”

When he finally does give you what you want, it’s with a slow, deliberate intensity that leaves you breathless. He’ll watch you as he works, his eyes dark with desire, drinking in every moan, every whimper, every desperate plea for more. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he’ll say, his voice rough with need. “I could watch you fall apart all day.”

But Will isn’t just about physical touch—he’s a master of words, too. He’ll whisper filthily sweet nothings in your ear, his voice a mix of praise and promise. “You take me so well,” he’ll say, his breath hot against your skin. “I love how you sound, how you feel, how you’re all mine.” His words are like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, and they only make you want him more.

By the time he’s done with you, you’re a trembling, incoherent mess, barely able to form a sentence. But Will isn’t satisfied until he’s sure you’re completely undone. “Not yet,” he’ll say, his hands and mouth working in tandem to push you even further. “I want to hear you beg.”

I hope people don't mind that I only wrote two spicy scenes. Sorry, I kinda ran out of ideas lol. Anyways… how did people like the headcannons? These are headcannons right?

[earthlyangelbby]

Truth or Dare

Part 1

4.7k words

CW: lots of flirting/tension, college!Eddie, roomate!Eddie, kissing, fingering, orgasming, premature orgasm, tickling

Summary: After being treated to pizza, wine coolers, and The Princess Bride by Eddie as an attempt to cheer you up after your breakup. You boldly ask to play truth or dare. Silly dares turn into more intense encounters as Eddie and you explore what all the tension is about.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, his signature grin flickering to life at your mischievous tone. “This is your night, sweetheart. What rules are we playing with?”

You tilted your head, a spark of confidence lighting up your expression. “Truth or dare. But—” you paused, smirking, “Nothing illegal, and we each get one skip.”

Eddie leaned back against the headboard, taking a swig of his wine cooler like he was settling in for the main event. “Alright, but don’t blame me when you regret making this deal.”

You rolled your eyes, already feeling lighter from the night’s laughter. “You’re stalling. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he answered immediately, the challenge clear in his tone.

You leaned forward, considering him for a moment. “Okay, I dare you to... do your best impression of Westley’s ‘As You Wish’ without sounding like an idiot.”

Eddie sat up dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “I've so got this.” He cleared his throat, adopting an exaggerated posh accent. “As... you... wish,” he said, drawing out each word like he was auditioning for a soap opera.

You burst out laughing, clutching your sides. “Oh my God, that was terrible! Westley would be horrified.”

Eddie grinned, unbothered. “You didn’t say it had to be good. Alright, your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you said, settling back into your pillow.

He tapped his chin, clearly debating. “Alright. Be honest when was the exact moment you realized you were too good for Brian?”

Your smile faded briefly, but it wasn’t pain that lingered—it was relief. “Probably when he started canceling plans to meet halfway without a real excuse,” you admitted. “I think I was just holding on to the idea of what we used to be, not what we were.”

Eddie nodded, his gaze steady. “Good answer. And hey, for what it’s worth, he was never on your level anyway.”

“Flattery won’t save you from my next dare,” you shot back, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he said without hesitation.

You grinned. “I dare you to serenade me with the cheesiest love song you can think of. Right now.”

Eddie groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re evil, you know that?”

“You asked for this!” you teased, pulling a pillow into your lap.

After a moment of thought, Eddie sat up, cleared his throat, and launched into an off-key rendition of I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston, complete with exaggerated hand gestures and dramatic flourishes. His voice cracked on the high notes, and you were doubled over laughing before he even hit the chorus.

“You’re insane,” you managed between giggles.

“And yet,” he said, flopping back onto the bed, “you’re loving every second of it.”

“Fine, maybe I am,” you admitted, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “Okay, your turn.”

“Truth or dare?” he asked, smirking.

“Dare,” you challenged, sitting up straighter.

“Alright, this one is a challenge. Time for the happy dance!” He bolts up.

“You’re so on!” You both get up and do the silliest dances you can think of. Sticking your tongues out, twisting your hips, and doing peace signs, you dance until you both get a little tired. Eddie grabs you, pulling you close and into a sway-like dance. He’s panting from laughing and dancing. “You so win princess buttercup.” He says with a wink and a grin.

“Oh, dread pirate Roberts, thank you for saving me from being so sad with your excellent dance skills!” you snort a real genuine laugh, throwing your head back. He spins you around and bows. He had a way of making everything fun. Both of you make your way back to your bed. You smile, sighing out a breath. “Arg, truth or dare, dread pirate?”

Eddie balances himself on his hands and shakes his hair back before looking at you. “Let’s do a truth this time, buttercup.”

“Have you ever been in love before?” you looked at him so intently searching for the feeling on his face.

Eddie looked off to the side blinking a few times before meeting your gaze. “Yeah. Or at least I think I was. There was a girl who I had an amazing summer with, but she wasn’t from Hawkings, and she went back home. She wanted me to follow her, but I couldn't because too much shit was going on and I didn’t have the money, so we fought over the phone, and that was that.” Eddie sat up crisscrossed in front of you.

Your expression softened, and you touched his hands. “I had no idea, Eddie. I’m so sorry.”

A smile tugged the corner of his lips and he turned his hand over to cup yours. “Sweetheart, that happened years ago. I don't dwell on it anymore. Now truth or dare?”

Your thumb rubbed against his hand absently. “I think I’ll go dare this time Eddie.”

“I dare you to tell me something that you have never told anyone else before.”

Your cheeks tingle in embarrassment. “Okay, but you have to close your eyes, and I’ll whisper it to you.”

A wide grin formed on his face and his eyes lit up. “Oh sweetheart this must be good. I’ll close my eyes I promise.” his eyes squeezed shut.

You shuffled on your knees, leaned over to his ear, and whispered, “While I was at summer camp when I was 15, I wrote these ridiculous, sexy love confessions to my counselor and left them in his bunk secretly. I know they were found because word spreads fast at summer camp. The girl counselors swore it was this one girl counselor and then she was fired because it was so inappropriate. I was so mortified that all the counselors and the camp owner read it. I couldn’t admit to it and you’re the only person besides me that knows the truth.” You leaned back sitting in front of him.

Eddie's mouth is hung open, and their eyes are wide, “Oh my god, your horniness got someone fired. Sweetheart that’s crazy! I have to know what it said.”

“No way Eddie! I can’t say that right now!” you pushed at him. “Now your turn. Truth or dare Munson?”

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in close to your face. “Dare me.”

You smirked, feeling bold. “Alright, Eddie. I dare you to put on my red shorts and walk out wearing just that. They’re in the top right of my closet.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, then narrowed with playful defiance. “Your shorts? The ones that are basically a crime against fabric?”

“That’s the dare. Take it or skip it. You get one skip.” you challenged, crossing your arms.

“As you wish sweetheart,” he said, sauntering toward your closet, “you have no idea what you just started.” he huffed.

He disappeared behind the door, and you could hear the rustling of fabric, followed by a few exaggerated grunts and muttered curses. “These are tiny! I feel like I’m in a speedo!” he yelled.

Eddie emerged from the closet wearing your red running shorts, and the sight nearly knocked you off the bed. You'd seen him shirtless but now you're really looking. His body is covered in tattoos. The shorts were comically tight, the hem barely reaching the tops of his thighs, and the bold color made the entire situation even more absurd. He strutted out like he was on a catwalk, hands on his hips and a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

“Is it all you ever imagined?” " he quipped, twirling for effect.

Your eyes go immediately to his bulge, clutching a pillow to your chest as you try to seem like you aren't staring. You attempt to cover your intrigue with a giggle. “Wow. I mean, Oh my God, Eddie. You look like a camp counselor!” you teased.

“Yeah I heard you like those.” he teased back.

Your heart was pounding a mix of embarrassment and excitement. “I was just saying since those are mine from camp. I was a counselor for a couple of summers.” You stammered around it but seeing him like this made you flustered.

But you can’t help it; you eye him up and down, covering the bottom half of your face with your pillow. That would make him not notice you noticing him right?

Eddie smirked, clearly loving the attention. “Alright, you’ve had your fun. Now it’s your turn.” His grin turned wicked. “I dare you to put on that red lace lingerie in your closet and keep it on for the game.”

Instantly your smile faded, replaced by a stunned look. “What? No way.”

“Fair’s fair, sweetheart. I mean you can always pass,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “You dared me into these bad boys,” he gestured at the shorts, “and I’m keeping them on. So you have to do the same.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, standing and grabbing the hanger from the closet. “You better not laugh.”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up three fingers. But the mischievous glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

A few minutes later, you stepped out in the red lace lingerie, your arms instinctively wrapping around yourself. The set was elegant but undeniably sexy, with all delicate straps and sheer panels. It hugged you in your hips and under your bust. You felt completely exposed but were determined not to let Eddie see you squirm.

His reaction was immediate. The smug grin on his face faded, replaced by wide eyes and a rare moment of silence. He blinked, his gaze flickering between your face and the lingerie. “Woah,” he finally muttered, his voice lower than before. “You look… a-amazing.”

Your cheeks burned, but you rolled your eyes to hide your nerves. “You’re just saying that because you dared me, Eds.”

“No, not even close,” he said, his grin slowly returning. “But I think I won.”

You sat back down on the bed, crossing your legs and pretending like this was totally normal. “Alright, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Eddie said immediately, still grinning.

You tilted your head, thinking. “I dare you to go outside and do a lap around the house in those shorts.”

He laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “Nice try, but you’re not getting rid of me that easily. Pass.”

“Coward,” you teased.

“Call it what you want,” he said with a shrug. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you said, keeping your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

He tapped his chin, clearly savoring the moment. “Why’d you agree to wear that? Was it just to win the dare, or… something else?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. The room felt warmer all of a sudden, the air heavier. “Maybe… a little bit of both,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

His grin softened into something warmer, his eyes lingering on yours. “Fair enough.”

Wanting the air to find its way back into your lungs, you inhale and sigh out, “Uh alright….truth or dare”? Your voice is higher than you meant.

Eddie pursed his lips and looked around making it seem like he really thought about it.

“Give me a dare.”

“mmmh- uhh, okay I dare you to go through the process of kissing me without act-”

He interrupts with a big grin, “I got ya, sweetheart.”

Eddie slowly leaned in cupping your face and pushing your hair behind your ear, his gaze never leaving yours, his lips just inches from yours. You could feel the heat from his breath hitting your lips. Which made them feel tingly.

The room seemed to hold its breath as you felt the heat between you intensify, the playful atmosphere shifting into something else entirely. The way his presence made your heart race a little faster, the moment stretched in anticipation.

“Just so you know, I'm a real good kisser,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips brushed so lightly against yours, just a ghost of a touch. It was enough to send a shiver down your spine, and suddenly, all the teasing felt real, too real.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you couldn’t decide whether to pull away or lean in closer. His eyes were soft now, and there was something in them, a quiet sincerity mixed with that signature teasing streak, but it was enough to make your pulse spike.

You both stayed there, close enough to feel the heat, but just out of reach. "Eddie..." you whispered, your voice shaking just a little.

He smiled, a little too knowingly, and pulled back and kissed your forehead, his gaze soft but still playful. "Your turn, sweetheart," he said, voice almost too smooth, leaving you breathless and your heart still pounding in your chest.

The air between you was different now, charged with a deeper tension. “Dare!” it came out fast. Your heart beats out of your chest.

Eddie clapped his hands together with a devilish grin, his laughter filling the room. "Here's the dare," he said, his voice low and teasing. "Let me trace my fingers wherever I want, and you have to stay still. I'll stop the moment you say you can't handle it anymore. Sound fair?"

Your eyebrows shot up, heat rushing to your cheeks. "W-wherever you want?" you stammered, your voice faltering under the weight of his gaze. “That's... a bit much, don't you think?"

He tilted his head, his smirk deepening. "Only if you overthink it," he said with a wink. "What's the matter? Scared you can't handle a little tickling?"

You huffed out a breath, pushing down the nervous flutter in your chest. Feeling emboldened, you crossed your arms. "I'm not scared of being tickled, Eddie. Do your worst."

His grin widened, his brown eyes glinting with mischief. He leaned forward, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with the gentlest touch.

"Good," he murmured. "Just lay back for me. Close your eyes and trust me."

You lay back hesitantly, but his steady presence made you feel safer than you'd expected. When his fingers glide lightly over your collarbones, an involuntary shiver rippled through you. The sensation was electric, subtle, and far more intense than you'd

anticipated.

"Reacting already?” Eddie said, his voice low and amused.

You twitched slightly, unable to suppress your body's reaction, but you bit back a reply. His fingers moved deliberately, trailing up the sides of your neck and across your shoulders. The touch was maddeningly light, and every nerve seemed to awaken under his hands.

"You're holding up better than I thought," he mused, his tone a mixture of teasing and admiration. "But how much more can you take this? Getting to be too much, sweetheart?"

You scoffed, tilting your chin defiantly. "I can handle it," you said, though your voice betrayed the slightest tremor. His grin turned almost predatory as his fingers drifted down your arms, tracing the delicate lines of your wrist and elbow. The strokes were slow and deliberate, lulling and igniting you at the same time. When your eyes fluttered open, you caught him watching you, his expression softer but still filled with an intense focus. "Most people would've given up by now,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I think you actually like it."

Your throat tightened, and you

swallowed hard, your words catching in your throat. "You're not... done yet, are you?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he shifted closer, lying on his side as his hand rested lightly on your ribs. "Not if you don't want me to be," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.

The words left your lips before you could stop them. "I don't want you to stop," you admitted, your gaze locking with his. "I dare you to keep going."

"As you wish sweetheart," Eddie murmured, his grin deepening. His fingers continued their exploration, tracing down your ribs to your stomach. The touches were light, deliberate, and agonizingly slow, stopping just above the waistband of your panties before gliding back up. A soft moan escaped you, unbidden, and your body reacted instinctively, your breath hitching as your nipples hardened against the fabric of your bra. "I knew you liked it," he teased, his voice laced with triumph.

His fingers traveled lower, ghosting along the curve of your hips, down your thighs, and slowly inwards. The teasing lightness of his touch made your body jerk involuntarily, the tension building with every motion. His fingers brushed faintly over your mound, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips, and he stilled for a moment, his gaze meeting yours again.

"I don't want to rush this," he said, his voice husky and filled with want. "I'm going to kiss you now. Is that okay?"

Your heart raced as you nodded, your voice coming out in a desperate whisper. "Please."

He leaned in, studying your face as if committing every detail to memory. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin as he closed the gap between you. Eddie’s lips brushed against yours, his kiss soft but deliberate, testing your response. His hand moved slowly, tracing the curve of your waist, and the sensation sent a shiver through you. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours as his dark eyes searched your face.

He is a good kisser.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice steady but hinting with something vulnerable, like he needed to hear your answer.

You nodded, your breath catching as his thumb brushed a slow circle against your hip. “I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice wavered slightly. “Better than fine.”

His grin returned, small but genuine, and his hand resumed its gentle exploration

His lips met yours in a kiss that was wild and unrestrained, a sharp contrast to the gentleness of his touch earlier. The taste of him-faintly sweet from the wine coolers with a lingering hint of smoke-flooded your senses. His tongue brushed against yours, and you welcomed it, your breaths mingling as the kiss deepened. His other hand continued its slow exploration, tracing along the seam of your panties and then up your abdomen, skimming the edge of your bra. You break the kiss for a moment, voice sultry "Are you trying to drive me crazy?" you tease, your eyes dancing with mischief. He smirks, the corner of his mouth curving upward, his breath warm against your skin.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replies, that same playful glint in his eyes. You can feel the heat radiating between you, igniting a fire that is impossible to ignore.

He leans in again, capturing your lips with his, the kiss pulling you deeper into the moment. Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling as you pull him closer, wanting to lose yourself in him entirely.

Slowly, he pulls back, his gaze searching yours, a mix of desire and tenderness shining through. "Tell me what you want," he murmurs, his voice low and inviting. You can feel your heart racing, anticipation and excitement swirling within you as you consider how to respond.

“I want you Eddie,” you whisper. His eyes widen slightly at your boldness and he grins down at you.

He laughs not at you directly but at how suddenly shy you have gotten. “I want you too. I really do. Just tell me if you want to stop at any point. Alright, sweetheart?”

You nod up at him looking into his eyes. “Mmhmm.” Your heart raced. His words, “I want to feel everything, Eddie.” You brushed your fingers against his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips. “I want to feel you.”

Eddie‘s expression shifted, the teasing glint in his 5 fingers are now more firm, rubbing circles at your opening through the fabric. “Tell me what you want or I’ll stop,” he murmured

“Take them off. I wanna feel you!” you cried out. He grabbed the hem on each side and pulled them off of you much less gently than with your bra. Returning his fingers to your slit and finding your sensitive clit. With his other hand working at your opening. He pushed two fingers into you. It felt so good to finally have his hands on you like this. He worked his fingers nice and slow while his other hand focused on your clit. Your body reacted with little jerks.

“Like that? Is that what you wanted? Is that what you like?” he grunted out.

You breathed out little whimpers and moans, trying to find words to say back to him, and finally, you stuttered out. “Yes! Just like that” you arched and tightened.

“God you're so tight around my fingers”

He curled his fingers inside you and found the spot. He pressed into it and rubbed circles on your clit. The static inside you was growing even more. “I like the way your body jerks under my touch.” Eddie leaned down in between your legs and started licking swipes on your clit. His fingers pumped into you slow and deep. The static is all-consuming in your body. You can feel it even down in your toes.

“You’re so good” is all you can say.

Eddie's pace quickened at your words, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm with the static building in you. He looked up for a moment, locking eyes with you as if he wanted to drink in every detail of your pleasure. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin, the vibration sending another shiver down your spine. “Let it go.”

Your body was already responding, the pressure coiling tighter within you as you held onto the sheets. “Let it happen,” he encouraged, his eyes dark and full of desire as he worked you through your climax. You cried out, the sound of your voice mixing with his groans of appreciation as your body seized and tightened around his fingers. Stars exploded behind your eyelids, and the world around you melted away.

As Eddie continued to work his fingers inside you, the warmth and wetness enveloped him. It sparked something deep within him it was a mix of desire and pleasure that was almost overwhelming. Your body responded to his every movement, tightening around his fingers as the waves of your high pulsed, and it ignited a fire inside him that he hadn’t anticipated. “Eddie! Feels so good Eddieee. You're so good! Please don’t stop” you begged.

“Oh, God,” he breathed, his voice strained with effort. “You’re so—so tight.” The way you surrendered to pleasure was intoxicating, and the sight of your bliss brought him dangerously close to the edge of his control.

When your body began to tremble and your breath hitched, Eddie felt the pressure coiling within him, nearly overwhelming as your walls clenched around his fingers. “Please. Please, don’t stop,” you gasped, driving him wild with need.

“I won't,” he gasped out, his heart racing. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your skin, savoring every second of this moment as his fingers continued finally finding the perfect rhythm. But the combination of your moans and the way you tightened around him was becoming too much.

“I’m cumming! Oh god! Eddie I’m-“ you broke off into moans grinding back down onto his fingers, he felt it…the wave of pleasure crashing over you, and in the tide of your release, he lost control too.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie gasped, his own body responding involuntarily. A pulse of heat shot through him, and he felt himself teetering dangerously close to the edge. He was still seated between your legs, his fingers buried deep inside you, and the sensations were so intense that he couldn’t hold back. Without warning, he found himself succumbing as waves of pleasure washed over him too.

His fingers stilled inside you, but the sensation of your body still clenching around him sent shockwaves of pleasure cascading through him. “Oh, damn it!” he exclaimed, the pleasure mingling with surprise as he felt himself spill over, his body trembling from the intensity of it all.

You opened your eyes wide, your high fading momentarily as Eddie’s reaction hit you. “Eddie?!”

He cursed under his breath, his cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and lingering bliss. “I—I didn’t mean to! You just felt so good, and…”

“Did seeing me really make you?” You cut him off, intrigued.

He met your eyes with a soft smile, “Honestly? Yeah,” Eddie said, voice low and sincere. “Seeing you like that, feeling you, hearing you… it was something else.”

“I- just haven't ever really felt like I was sexy like that. Like the type of sexy to make a guy cum without touching him. That’s like reserved for ultra ethereal beauties.” Your cheeks burned.

Eddie leans in slightly, “Well, maybe I think you’re an ultra ethereal beauty.”

You chuckled, the warmth of his compliment mixing with your lingering embarrassment. “I honestly didn't expect any of this but I'm glad it happened”

Eddie ran a hand through his hair, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Believe me, I definitely didn’t expect this to happen. I mean, I’ve been trying not to trip over my words around you for months, and here I am, making a spectacle of myself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his candidness. “At least I wasn’t the only one surprised then. It’s kind of funny, honestly. We’ve been roommates for a year, and I didn’t think we’d ever cross this line.”

He leaned back, slightly bashful, and you could see that familiar pink hue still lingering on his cheeks. “Yeah, but seriously, that was… wow. I didn’t know just looking at you could do that. There’s definitely something about you.”

With a teasing roll of your eyes, you nudged him playfully. “Well, I guess all those times I walked around in my pajamas and you casually told me I looked nice. I guess that wasn’t just roommate kindness, huh?”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, you caught me. I might have had more than a few moments where I thought, ‘Wow, my roommate is hot.’ But I didn’t want to make things weird. I mean you had a boyfriend.”

Your heart fluttered at his admission. “Wait, so you actually think I’m cute?”

“Cute? You’re more than cute. You’re absolutely captivating,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “And honestly, after tonight, I kind of want to see where this goes beyond just being roommates.”

Your heart raced at his words, and you sensed the tension between you shifting into something softer yet full of potential. “You really mean that?”

“Yeah, I do,” he confessed, his gaze steady on yours. “I’d love to take you out on a proper date. We can still have all the fun we just had, trust me I had lots of fun. I learned a lot about you. But I wanna know more.”

You felt a rush of warmth inside, excitement bubbling as you processed his offer. “That sounds… amazing. I’d really like that.”

Eddie smiled back, relief evident on his face. “Good. Because I’m still kind of embarrassed about everything, but I’m really happy it happened.”

“Same,” you admitted, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “I didn’t think I could feel that way, let alone with you, of all people.”

“Yeah? It feels kind of unreal, doesn’t it?” He laughed softly, the tension easing as you both began to gather your clothes. “But I’m glad it happened. Just… wow.”

As you both started to clean up, playful banter filled the air between you, your laughter echoing around the room while you both recounted some of the sillier dares and the ones that shook you to your cores. Once you finished freshening up and were back in cozy pajamas.

Eddie grabbed at your hand pulling you into his room and you followed without question. “Since we kinda messed up all of your sheets, do you wanna sleep in my room with me? We can plan that date out before we fall asleep,” Eddie looked down at you sweetly.

Your heart felt fuzzy. “I'd love too Eddie”

You both slipped under the blankets. Eddie laid on his back and lifted his arm up inviting you to cuddle. You shuffled over to him and laid your head on his chest. As he ran his fingers through your hair he whispered

“I thought about our date and I want to take you to the Planetarium?” His heart beating out of his chest.

“That sounds perfect Eddie” you could hear his heart steady. “Goodnight”

“Goodnight buttercup,” Eddie murmured.

Tag list: @avalon-wolf

[hermitcraftguesstheauthorevent]

GUESS THE AUTHOR IS BACK! 

Get to your keyboard and get those betting slips ready, because it’s Guess The Author time again! This is the third annual GTA! Wow! 

But what IS Guess the Author? It's a writing challenge and a guessing game, all in one!

Our fabulous authors will have until THE DEADLINE to write a new work (or dust off an unpublished thing you’ve had rotting in your drafts, we won’t judge) and post it to our anonymous collection. 

Don’t worry if you don’t have any clue who’s who- we’ll publish a list of our authors to make guessing easier. From there, readers will have one week to guess who wrote what! 

After that week, we’ll reveal the collection in full and you can see how you did! It’s like Guess Who, but with more block men and word documents. 

And without further ado:

THE DEADLINE WILL BE JULY 6TH, 2025, AT MIDNIGHT EDT.

(Here’s a handy little countdown clock for you!)

You have until THE DEADLINE to get your work in the collection, and you can find instructions to do that by checking our handy post right here! 

All that fun aside, we do have a few rules: 

-THERE WILL BE ABSOLUTELY NO EXTENSIONS TO THE DEADLINE. We will not make exceptions. If your work isn’t in the collection by THE DEADLINE, it’s not getting in. If you don’t make it, you shouldn’t despair- post it anyway! This challenge is all about getting people writing, not some silly collection. That said, we will not reopen the collection for any reason.

-Your work must be Hermit-centric! This is a Hermitcraft event, we’re Hermitcraft fans. Feel free to have other people show up, but the focus should be on at least one Hermit! (NPC’s or Hermit characters such as NPC Grian, Grimdog, Goatman, EX, Hels, and so on are all fine!)

-No smut. Period. Sorry. Cut around it, fade to black, heavily imply it, just no onscreen NSFW action. Everything else is fine!

-Use of AI tools such as ChatGPT or whatever flavour of the Plagiarism Machine is popular this week is strictly banned. This is a writing challenge for human creativity, and we want to hear your own unique voice! Any submitted works found to be AI-generated will be removed from the collection and you will be blacklisted from this and future challenges. 

-Don’t do anything that breaks TOS. Tumblr’s or AO3’s. 

-Minimum wordcount is 50 words. There is no maximum wordcount. 

-A maximum of ten posted works per author, please! If you want to have more, consider creating a single “Collection” piece where each chapter is a new work. Thank you! 

-The mod team reserves the right to remove works from the collection that violate these rules or violate the spirit of the challenge. That means, for example, please don’t add a work that’s a part of your ongoing series! That’s just spoiling the fun.

-If AO3 implodes on launch day again, the mod team reserves the right to scream. 

Other than that, do what you like! We don’t care! There are no rules around content. Horror, shipping, high school AU’s, space opera, Shakespeare…go nuts! We can’t wait to see what you create! 

You’re encouraged to lie, misdirect people, write in another author’s style, write about Hermits you don’t usually write! Any trick you want to use is fair game.

For those wanting a more formal schedule for their calendars, here it is: 

May 4th, 2025, 12:00 PM EDT: Event begins, collection opens! That’s right now! 

July 6th, 2025, 12:00 AM EDT: THE DEADLINE. Writing period ends, collection closes, and guessing begins! 

July 13th 2025, 12:00 AM EDT: Guessing concludes! All works are de-anonymized, and readers and writers celebrate! All works will be promoted on the blog for readers to pick through at their leisure. 

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask the blog. We have five mods: 

-Mod Bayonet 

-Mod Butterfly Knife 

-Mod Machete

-Mod Rapier

-Mod 🔪

What are you waiting for? Get out there and get writing! Can’t wait to see you in the collection!

Lastly, if you want to chat about your work anonymously, head over to our NEWLY OFFICIAL buddy blog @hcguesstheauthormessageboard!

@mcytblrsource

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hey,

may I request a Hannibal one-shot, where he meets a teenaged reader at a classical music concert or the opera?He is really fascinated by how interested she is in it and how much knowledge she has?

Hannibal X Teenage!Reader: Musical Connection

Warnings: none

Word count: 796

You settle into your seat in the grand opera house, the rich scent of polished wood mingling with the soft hum of excited conversation. The air is thick with anticipation, the velvet curtains drawn in front of the stage. You’ve been to many concerts and operas in your life, but there’s something uniquely magical about this evening—the elegance, the atmosphere, the music that promises to sweep you away.

As you scan the program, preparing yourself for what’s to come, you feel a presence beside you, a slight shift in the air. You look up, and there he is: Dr. Hannibal Lecter. It’s difficult not to notice him—his impeccable posture, the sharpness of his features, the aura of controlled confidence that surrounds him like a perfectly tailored suit. You’ve seen him before, of course. He was quite well known in the Opera community. A man whose love for the art was left clear to whoever observed him during any performance. 

For a brief moment, he glances at you, then returns his gaze to the stage, as if his attention was momentarily captured by your own. The thought crosses your mind that he’s perhaps one of those people who thrive in the background, quietly observing everything around him.

His voice, smooth and velvety, breaks the silence between you.

“Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, isn’t it?” he asks, his tone more of a statement than a question. He doesn’t need your confirmation, he’s merely trying to make conversation.

"Not many young people your age attend these performances." 

His gaze is focused on you as he speaks, his eyes glow as if he’d just found something extraordinary. 

"Tell me, what is it about this music that draws you in?"

There’s a slight challenge in his voice, an invitation to share your passion with someone who, you sense, might truly understand. You hesitate only for a moment, then begin speaking, your voice steady and confident, as you always are when discussing music. You may be younger than the usual people who go to these sorts of events but that doesn't mean you don;t have the knowledge to understand the profoundness of the music.

“It’s the precision, the way each note is so deliberate and yet so expressive. Beethoven had to overcome so much adversity, and when I listen to his violin concerto, I hear his struggle, his triumph… it's like he poured everything into it.”

Dr. Lecter watches you intently, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of fascination and admiration. You can tell that he’s absorbing every word, every nuance of your explanation. There’s no mockery in his gaze, no condescension—only genuine curiosity, as though he’s meeting someone who shares his refined appreciation for the art.

“You have an impressive understanding of music. It’s rare to find someone who truly listens—not just to the melody, but to the meaning behind it. Most people simply hear sound, but you… you feel it.”

You feel your heartbeat a little faster, caught off guard by the compliment. Hannibal Lecter—who, you’re certain, could analyze any human with a level of depth few could match—is paying you such attention. And it's not just because you're sitting next to him in an opera house. It's because you’ve managed to stir something within him.

His eyes flicker momentarily to the stage, where the orchestra begins tuning their instruments, preparing for the performance. 

“Do you ever think, when listening to a piece like this, that music can be… a form of communication? A language, perhaps?”

You nod thoughtfully. 

“I’ve always thought of music as a language of the soul. Words can’t always capture what you’re feeling, but music can convey emotions too complex for speech.”

Lecter’s smile is subtle, but there’s a certain warmth behind it—a rare softness in the cold precision of his usual demeanor.

 "You have an eloquence in your understanding. I think that is what makes this concert special for you... You’re not merely hearing the music, you are living it."

For a moment, you feel as if time itself has stopped. The world around you fades into the background, leaving just the two of you, locked in a conversation about music and meaning—two souls who recognize the beauty in things that others may never notice.

As the lights dim and the orchestra begins to play, you settle back into your seat, but your thoughts are still with him. Dr. Lecter’s presence, his quiet fascination with you, lingers in the air, adding a layer of complexity to your evening that you didn’t expect.

For the rest of the concert, his presence beside you remains like a quiet undercurrent, an almost imperceptible pull between the two of you—two people who, for a brief moment, understand each other in a way that words cannot fully explain.

[panerasbox]

i can’t believe it’s tomorrow. this truly went so fast!! here’s the last fic of 30 days of melissa schemmenti. thank you everyone for reading these, it’s been really fun (and challenging!) i’ve slept maybe four hours since tuesday night, im too excited (or nervous) to sleep!! expect the post all about it tomorrow night 🩷

—LITTLE BIT HEISTY; 1 Day To Go

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader. Heist AU | Ocean’s 8 Vibes

Genre: crime romance, slow burn, found family

Word count: 4,198.

summary: Five years after walking out of your life, Melissa Schemmenti shows up on your doorstep asking for help with a job. You’re not sure which is more dangerous: the heist… or falling for her all over again.

The last person you expect to see standing in the lobby of your cybersecurity firm on a rainy Tuesday morning is Melissa Schemmenti.

And yet, there she is leaning on the reception desk like it owes her money, red leather jacket still as worn-in and dangerous-looking as it was the last time she walked out of your life. Her hair’s pulled back, but you can still see the copper strands curling at the edges, defiant as ever. She hasn’t changed. Not in the ways that count.

You pause halfway through the glass doors, heartbeat kicking up before your mind even catches up. You think: She looks good. You think: She’s here for something. And then you think the thing you swore you were over: What if this is about us?

She sees you and smirks. That same cocky, tilted-lip thing she used to use when she’d beat you at pool or pin you against the wall of your old apartment. You hate that you remember the heat of it. You hate more that you miss it.

“Hey, kid,” she says, like five years haven’t passed and your heart didn’t get broken in the middle of a South Philly parking lot at midnight.

“Melissa.” You cross your arms. “Can’t say I was expecting you.”

She shrugs. “Didn’t think I’d be here either. But I need someone with your…skills.”

A beat. You raise an eyebrow. “This a social call or a job offer?”

Her smirk grows. “Both, maybe. But mostly a job.”

You glance at your receptionist, who’s now watching like it’s a soap opera. You jerk your head toward your office. “Five minutes.”

Once inside, you close the door and turn to face her. She’s already prowling the perimeter like she owns the place, eyes scanning the sleek décor, the awards on the wall. You can practically hear the judgment brewing.

“This yours?” she asks, tapping a frame. “Didn’t think you’d go legit.”

You snort. “You didn’t think I’d do a lot of things.”

Her eyes flick back to yours. A moment of silence. Tight, uncomfortable.

“So,” you say, settling behind your desk. “Why are you really here?”

Melissa leans forward, both palms flat on your desk. “You heard of Raymond Cranston?”

Your brain runs a quick scan. “District administrator. Embezzlement rumors, but nothing proven. Real piece of work.”

“He’s stealing money meant for Abbott and the other schools. Slashing budgets, padding his pockets. Barbara’s livid, Ava’s ready to stage a coup, and I’m…” She pauses. Her voice drops. “I’m done watching kids suffer while people like him walk away clean.”

You watch her carefully. Her voice is fierce. Controlled. But underneath, you hear something deeper, something almost desperate.

“You want to expose him?”

Melissa smiles, sharp as a switchblade. “No, hon. I want to rob him.”

A beat.

You blink. “You’re serious.”

“Dead.” She folds her arms. “Gala’s in three weeks. Cranston’s flaunting every dime he stole. I’ve got Ava for the distraction, Jacob for the groundwork, Barbara on logistics, don’t ask how, she’s pretending this is a ‘moral countermeasure’ or whatever, but I need someone who can get into the systems. Security, bank accounts, cameras. You.”

You stare. Then laugh, once, incredulous. “You want me to help you pull a heist on the Philadelphia School District?”

“I want you to help me get justice,” she corrects. “The fact that it’s gonna be a little illegal is just a bonus.”

You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled. “And why me? Why now?”

Melissa hesitates. For the first time, she looks less sure. “Because I trust you. And because you’re the best at what you do.”

Your throat tightens. You wish she didn’t still sound so sincere when she says things like that.

“This is insane,” you say.

“Yep.”

“It could land you in prison.”

“Only if we get caught.”

You stare at her for another long moment.

“Who else is in?”

Melissa smirks again. “Just wait ‘til you see Ava’s outfit. You’ll fold.”

And damn it, you already are.

You regret saying yes somewhere between Melissa telling you Ava Coleman is “handling distractions” and the moment Ava actually walks into your office.

She’s in a metallic rose gold pantsuit, matching stiletto boots, and oversized sunglasses that absolutely do not hide her smug grin. Her hair is pulled into a high, dramatic ponytail that somehow screams both spy thriller and host of a messy reality show. You glance at Melissa. She doesn’t even blink.

“This her?” Ava asks, looking you up and down like you’re the newest model on a showroom floor. “This is your hacker? Girl looks like she files taxes for fun.”

You stare. “I’m the reason your Amazon Alexa didn’t narc on you to the IRS last year.”

Ava gasps. “Oh, so you do know me.”

Melissa sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Ava.”

“What? I’m just saying. She’s hot in a nerdy, ‘I could ruin your credit score’ kind of way. I respect it.”

You deadpan, “And you’re the distraction?”

She flashes a smile. “Baby, I am the show.”

Melissa turns to you with a tight smile. “This is what I’ve been dealing with.”

“I see that.”

Ava flops onto your office couch like she owns it, propping her boots on your coffee table. “So, hacker girl. What’s your handle? Like, your criminal hacker name? You got something cool? HexKitten? ByteMe?”

Melissa snorts. You ignore her. “I don’t have a handle. I run a legitimate business now.”

Ava makes a face. “Boring. I’m calling you ByteMe anyway.”

Melissa gives you a look that says sorry, but she’s clearly not. There’s a flicker in her eyes that tells you she’s enjoying this. You’re not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?” you ask.

“Ava’s the first one I brought in,” Melissa says. “Barbara’s in, but she’s… still pretending it’s a spiritual mission.”

“And Jacob?”

“He cried when I told him,” Ava says. “Like, actual tears. He was like, ‘I always dreamed I’d be recruited for a heist!’ I think he’s building a vision board.”

You blink. “So to be clear, we’re trusting a woman who runs a school like a TikTok account, a kindergarten teacher who considers this a divine quest, and a man who’s treating this like Ocean’s Eleven: Quaker Edition.”

Melissa leans against your desk, arms crossed. “That’s why I needed you.”

It’s quiet for a beat. You glance up and realize she’s looking at you, really looking at you the way she used to, back when things were simpler. When it was just pool halls and bar booths and the soft ache of wanting to be loved by someone who couldn’t quite say it out loud.

You swallow. “I haven’t done something like this in years.”

“I know.” Her voice is softer now. “But you never really stopped thinking about it, did you?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

Ava makes a pshhht noise and pretends to spritz herself with imaginary perfume. “Damn, the sexual tension in here is like, fourth-wall-breaking.”

You both shoot her a glare. She only grins wider.

Melissa turns back to you. “The gala’s in less than three weeks. We need access to Cranston’s schedule, building blueprints, account info…anything you can get. I’ll handle the people. You handle the tech.”

You nod slowly. “And if this goes sideways?”

Melissa’s smile sharpens. “Then we improvise.”

You sigh. “Of course we do.”

Ava claps her hands. “Ooh, this is so exciting! Are we getting code names? I call Diamond Viper.”

“You’re not getting a code name,” you and Melissa say at the same time.

She grins like the cat who hacked the canary. “See? You’re already in sync. Y’all are so married.”

Melissa mutters something about regretting her choices.

You kind of regret nothing.

If your office conference table wasn’t currently covered in blueprints, surveillance photos, and sticky notes labeled “Ava DO NOT TOUCH,” you might mistake this for a teacher work session.

Except no teacher work session features this much crime.

Jacob stands at the front with a laser pointer like he’s leading a TED Talk. Barbara sits stiffly at the edge of the table with her arms crossed, lips pursed in a way that suggests she’s praying for all of your souls. Ava’s reclined in a chair spinning slowly in circles, nodding along to a beat only she can hear.

Melissa is next to you. Too close. She smells like smoke and gum, and every time her arm brushes yours, it short-circuits your brain.

You focus on the schematics spread across the table: a floor plan of the Franklin Institute’s ballroom, where the district gala will be held. You marked every camera, every entrance, every potential security checkpoint. You told yourself this job would be a nice distraction. Instead, it’s giving you whiplash.

Jacob points to a hallway on the printout. “This is where Cranston’s personal suite will be during the event. That room is our goldmine, rumor has it he keeps backups of his embezzlement files on an offline drive. Cash, too.”

“Backups,” you mutter. “That idiot probably thinks USBs are untraceable.”

“He’s not wrong,” Melissa murmurs, leaning in. “That’s where you come in.”

Your eyes flick to hers. “You always knew how to make crime sound like a compliment.”

She smirks. “I always knew how to make you say yes.”

Ava lets out a dramatic ooooh and spins faster.

Barbara shoots a look skyward.

You clear your throat and tap the screen of your tablet. “The room has a biometric lock, likely fingerprint or retina scan. I can spoof it, but I’ll need time on the inside. At least fifteen minutes.”

“I can stall,” Ava says, flipping her ponytail. “I’ve been practicing a fake faint. Someone just has to catch me dramatically and I’ll moan about the patriarchy until the paramedics come.”

Melissa looks at her like she’s considering it, which is concerning.

Barbara folds her arms tighter. “I am not condoning this.”

“Noted,” Melissa says without missing a beat. “And you’re still our contact for real-time radio comms?”

Barbara sighs, muttering something about “the Lord testing her” before nodding once.

Jacob glances around the table. “Wait. Who’s our backup if things go wrong?”

The room falls quiet.

Then Melissa says, “Gregory.”

You blink. “Gregory Eddie? The human clipboard?”

A voice from the door cuts in dryly, “I can hear you.”

Gregory steps in, dressed in black, holding a set of walkie-talkies. “I’m only here because Melissa said this was technically about helping the school.”

Melissa claps him on the shoulder. “You’re our runner. If things go sideways, you get the data and disappear.”

Gregory frowns. “What about the rest of you?”

“We improvise,” Ava says, winking.

Barbara mutters louder. “Sodom and Gomorrah.”

Later that night, you’re the last one in the office. The crew’s scattered, your tablet’s still glowing, and your coffee’s gone cold.

Melissa lingers in the doorway.

“You always stay late?” she asks.

You glance up. “Only when I’m helping a morally flexible elementary school teacher plan a heist.”

She smiles and walks in, slow, deliberate. “It’s good seeing you work again.”

You pause. “You mean ‘good seeing me be a criminal again.’”

“I mean,” she says, pulling out a chair across from you, “you’re the best at what you do. I never stopped thinking about that.”

There’s something heavy between you now. The silence isn’t awkward, it’s familiar. Like coming home and finding all the furniture the same, but knowing the locks were changed.

You say, quietly, “Why didn’t you call?”

Melissa doesn’t pretend not to know what you mean. Her gaze drops for the first time all night.

“Because I thought I was doing you a favor,” she says. “Thought you were better off.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“I know.”

“I never stopped thinking about you either,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Melissa looks at you like you’ve just said something dangerous. “We’re gonna pull this off, you know.”

You nod. “I know.”

And for the first time since she walked back into your life, you let yourself believe it might not just be the job that changes everything, it might be her.

Melissa is yelling at Ava again.

Something about timing, choreography, and Ava nearly setting off a test alarm because she insisted on filming a TikTok mid-dry-run. Ava’s yelling back that “style is substance,” and that if she’s going to be the distraction, she’s gonna distract, preferably in five-inch heels.

Jacob’s somewhere in the corner hyperventilating into a reusable tote bag, while Barbara stands completely still, praying out loud like she’s Moses trying to part the idiocy in the room.

You, meanwhile, are about two seconds away from walking out.

“Enough!” you bark, and the room freezes. “If anyone touches the surveillance rig again before I finish calibrating it, I will throw this laptop out the window and call the FBI myself.”

Melissa turns to you. “Hey, breathe, alright? I’ve got it under control—”

“No, you don’t,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “You don’t have it under control, and you keep acting like this is just some righteous crusade, but it’s not. It’s a damn heist, Melissa. This isn’t just about some corrupt administrator. You’re trying to fix something you think you broke years ago.”

Ava makes an impressed oooooh noise and then wisely shuts up when you shoot her a look.

Melissa doesn’t respond right away. She just looks at you.

And it’s not angry. It’s not even surprised. It’s hurt.

“Everyone out,” she says softly.

Jacob scurries. Ava tries to sass but Barbara grabs her by the arm like a mom who’s had enough. The room clears. The door closes behind them.

You’re left in the silence, with Melissa standing across from you and five years of unsaid things vibrating between you like an electric current.

“You think I don’t know that?” she says, voice low. “You think I don’t wake up every morning thinking about how I screwed it all up?”

You don’t answer.

“I told myself it was about the school. About the kids. But I knew bringing you back into this…” She trails off. “I knew it’d hurt. And I did it anyway.”

You sit down, the adrenaline fading just enough to leave you feeling hollow. “Why, Melissa? Why not just leave it alone?”

“Because I never stopped loving you,” she says, like it costs her something to admit it. “And because this is the only thing I know how to do…fix what I broke. Even if it’s too late.”

You blink hard. “You left. You walked away. You didn’t give me a chance.”

“I was scared,” she says, and there’s no pride in it. “You wanted a future. Stability. Something clean. And I was still fighting ghosts. Still picking fights with shadows. I didn’t know how to let myself have something good.”

You look down at your hands. They’re shaking, just a little.

“You think this heist is going to erase that?” you ask, softer now.

“No,” she says. “But maybe it can be the start of making things right.”

A long beat of silence stretches between you.

And finally, finally, you whisper, “You still have a habit of making everything complicated.”

Her lips twitch. “Yeah, but you liked that about me.”

You don’t smile, but you don’t walk away either. You stand, take a step closer.

Her breath hitches.

“Just… don’t break my heart twice,” you say, quietly.

Melissa nods once. “I won’t. Not this time.”

And for the first time since this whole mess started, you both stop pretending the job is the only thing at stake.

You’ve never worn a dress this expensive.

Or this revealing.

Or this dangerous.

The silk clings like it knows all your secrets. One wrong step and your thigh holster will flash like a neon sign, and then it’s all over. But that’s not what has your hands shaking.

It’s her.

Melissa Schemmenti walks into the Franklin Institute gala like she owns the building, like it was built around her. She’s in a deep emerald suit that should be illegal, the jacket tailored so close it might as well be stitched to her spine. The red lipstick is new—braver than she used to be. But it’s the smirk that hits hardest.

She sees you. And for a moment, the whole room falls away.

“Jesus,” she mutters when she gets closer. “You look like sin in that dress.”

“Fitting,” you say with a faint smile. “We’re about to rob a man blind.”

She offers her arm. “Shall we?”

You take it. God help you, you take it.

Inside, the gala is a mess of bad lighting and expensive perfume. The kind of place where people say “philanthropy” but mean “money laundering.” Ava’s already working the crowd in a sparkling red jumpsuit, dragging attention like a magnet with legs. She’s halfway through a champagne flute and mid-laugh with the mayor.

Barbara is tucked into a quiet corner near the AV booth, earpiece in, muttering coordinates like a CIA agent moonlighting as a Sunday school teacher. Gregory’s posing as security, face like granite, hands on a clipboard. Jacob is, god bless him, crying in a supply closet out of sheer joy and nerves.

You’re all exactly where you need to be.

“Target approaching,” Barbara says over comms. “Cranston incoming. Three o’clock.”

Melissa squeezes your hand.

You shift.

And just like that, it begins.

You slip away while Ava starts her scene. You don’t even know what it is… there’s screaming, a fake proposal, possibly a flash mob. You’ll ask later. Right now you’re moving fast down a hallway, Melissa shadowing you in practiced silence.

The door to Cranston’s private suite clicks open with a code Jacob swiped from a security badge two weeks ago. Inside, it’s absurd marble, liquor, leather chairs no one’s meant to sit in.

The safe is real. And locked.

You’re halfway through cracking it when Melissa speaks.

“You were always the smartest person in the room.”

You blink at her. “Now’s not the time.”

“I know,” she says. “But if I wait until it is, I’ll never say it.”

Click. The safe opens.

Inside was hard drives. Envelopes thick with cash. A folder labeled Trust Fund Allocation – Revised.

You bag everything. Fast. Efficient.

But Melissa doesn’t move.

“You’re stalling,” you say, quiet.

She steps closer. “I want to kiss you.”

You freeze.

“Not because I’m trying to distract you,” she adds. “And not because it’s convenient. I want to kiss you because five years ago I was too much of a coward to do it when it mattered. And now we’re standing in the middle of a goddamn felony, and all I can think about is your mouth.”

You stare at her. She’s waiting.

And maybe it’s the adrenaline.

Maybe it’s the years.

Maybe it’s just her.

You drop the bag and kiss her. Hard.

Like the last five years never happened. Like the world doesn’t end in twenty minutes. Like you never stopped.

She kisses you back like she regrets everything.

It lasts maybe ten seconds. Maybe an eternity.

Then the comm crackles: “Guests are moving toward the east wing! You have sixty seconds!”

You break apart, breathless. Wide-eyed.

Melissa grins, all teeth. “We really need to do crime more often.”

You grab the bag. “Let’s get out of here before I commit a second felony. This time for assaulting your mouth in public.”

She laughs as you run.

And God, you hope she keeps laughing.

The gala is chaos.

Jacob’s voice is high-pitched over comms—“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”, and you can hear Ava shouting “Don’t touch me, I am the fire code violation!” from somewhere behind you. Gregory’s giving cool, clipped updates, but even he sounds tight.

You and Melissa are sprinting.

Your heels click against the marble as you race through the hallway, bag of stolen evidence clutched to your chest. You round a corner just in time to hear Melissa bark, “Left now!” and shove open a utility door.

It slams shut behind you, cutting off the roar of the crowd.

Inside, it’s dim. A narrow maintenance corridor. You’re both breathing hard, the kind of breath that drags heat through your lungs like fire.

“We’re not going to make it to the car,” Melissa says between gasps.

“No,” you agree. “But we can get to the archives exit. East side. Leads to the loading dock.”

“Then let’s move.”

You both start running again, only this time, you can feel it. Someone’s on your tail. Security. Maybe a camera caught too much. Maybe Jacob tripped an alarm. Maybe it’s just bad luck. But the danger is real and closing in.

You slide to a stop outside the archive room.

And that’s when everything goes sideways.

The door won’t budge.

“Locked,” you hiss. “Cranston must’ve had it sealed after his little embezzlement parties.”

Melissa pulls out a pin from her hair, of course she’s wearing one sharp enough to pick a lock, and gets to work.

You press your back to the wall, watching the hallway.

Boots.

Shouts.

“Melissa—”

“I got it.”

She does. The door clicks open, and you both dive inside, just as a flashlight beam sweeps past.

Inside, it’s dark. Rows of dusty boxes. Echoes of time.

You crouch low behind one, chest heaving, Melissa right next to you. The bag of evidence is wedged between your legs. Her hand brushes yours in the dark.

You grab it and don’t let go.

For a minute, there’s only your breathing. The adrenaline still in your throat. Your heart, beating out of rhythm.

“I thought this part would feel better,” you whisper. “Like a clean win.”

Melissa turns to you. You can’t see much, just the outline of her jaw in the faint emergency light.

“Doesn’t feel clean,” she agrees.

You look at her. Really look. “Why’d you really bring me in?”

She hesitates.

Then she says, “Because I wanted you to see that I wasn’t that woman anymore. That I could be better. Be worth the risk.”

Your throat tightens. “I didn’t need proof. I just needed you.”

She leans in. No drama. No tension. Just soft lips and a quiet kiss that feels like a truce.

She pulls back, resting her forehead against yours. “If we get out of this…”

“We will,” you say, firm.

“Then I’m going to ask you to stay. This time for real.”

You nod.

Outside, the guards’ voices fade.

Barbara’s voice crackles to life in your earpiece, “East exit’s clear. Go. Now.”

You and Melissa stand.

Still holding hands.

Still choosing each other.

Even now.

Three days after the gala, Cranston’s career goes up in flames.

It starts small, a headline buried beneath a city council squabble: “Anonymous Tip Alleges Embezzlement at Franklin Institute Fundraiser.”

Then the leak hits Facebook.

Then the drive hits the press.

Then the FBI shows up at his door.

By noon, he’s on administrative leave. By dinnertime, the news runs footage of him being escorted out of his luxury condo, blinking in the sunlight like a man who never thought he’d lose.

You, meanwhile, are sitting on Melissa’s couch with her legs across your lap, a glass of wine in your hand, and an entire soft pretzel from Wawa in hers.

“I can’t believe you made Jacob the anonymous source,” you say, trying not to laugh.

“Who’s gonna question that face?” Melissa shrugs. “He looks like a distressed Muppet. The feds loved him.”

“He’s going to frame his subpoena.”

“Let him. He earned it.”

You smile. You’re quiet for a beat.

And then you say, “You did it.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Just leans back against the couch and chews thoughtfully.

“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” she admits.

“Like what?”

“Like… closure. I thought I’d want fireworks. A parade. Maybe a little public humiliation. But it’s not about him anymore.”

You look at her. She looks at you.

“It’s about you,” she says softly. “It always was.”

Your heart aches.

Not in the sharp, unbearable way it did five years ago when she left.

No, this ache is warm. Healing. The kind that comes from the slow realization that maybe, just maybe, this broken thing between you has finally been put back together.

“You could’ve called,” you say gently. “Years ago.”

“I didn’t know what I’d say.”

“And now?”

She turns, fully facing you. Her hand curls against your thigh. “Now I know I want to build something. Not just clean up messes. Not just run.”

You blink.

“Are you saying you’re ready for a future that doesn’t involve handcuffs and burner phones?”

She smirks. “I didn’t say I was going boring. Just… maybe a little more rooted. A little more honest.”

You set your wine down.

Then you lean in.

Then you kiss her slow and deep and certain, like the kind of kiss that says we’re not done, we’re just getting started.

She pulls back, eyes warm.

“You staying?” she asks, a little shy.

You nod. “I’m home.”

And for the first time in years, it’s true.

[reijisteacup]

What would be the perfect date for each diaboy? (hope the question's not too broad lol)

Its not broad at all <333

================================================================================================

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

Perfect Date: A quiet music hall, just the two of you Shu’s perfect date isn’t one full of grand gestures or overstimulation. He’d want something low-energy but emotionally intense — like sneaking into an old, abandoned opera house where he has access to a working phonograph or vintage record player. You’d sit in the plush velvet chairs, half-draped over him, while classical records crackle softly in the background. He’d rest his head in your lap, eyes half-lidded, asking you what the music makes you feel. The real intimacy for him is found in stillness. Bonus points if you hum softly or play with his hair. To him, it’s romantic perfection — no one else in the world, just you and the music.

Reiji Sakamaki:

Perfect Date: A private candlelit lecture + tea ceremony Reiji’s ideal date would blend elegance and control. He’d host a private tea ceremony in a refined parlor — full of antique books, oil paintings, and low candlelight. You’d wear something formal, of course. He’d spend part of the evening lecturing you about some obscure historical topic, eyes gleaming behind his glasses, relishing your focus. But later, he’d guide your hands to help you make the perfect tea, praising your posture or subtle gestures. He would find that sort of shared refinement deeply romantic — you being the only one worthy of sharing his curated little world.

Laito Sakamaki:

Perfect Date: Masquerade ball + secret hideaway tryst Laito would plan a decadent, mysterious night — a masquerade ball in a crumbling mansion filled with sensual music, forbidden glances, and stolen touches behind velvet curtains. He’d make it a game: could you find him in the crowd? Would you dance with a stranger who might be him? He thrives on tension and anticipation. Eventually, he’d whisk you away to a secret room — a candlelit loft with wine and cushions, where the real "date" begins. His idea of romance is flirtation and indulgence, but if he truly loves you, there’s an aching sincerity beneath it all — masked, just like him.

Kanato Sakamaki:

Perfect Date: A gothic doll-themed café + candlelight cemetery walk Kanato’s dream date is theatrical and strange — a curated aesthetic experience. He’d take you to a macabre doll-themed tea café where everything is saccharine yet slightly disturbing. You’d be expected to dress prettily — maybe in gothic lolita or elegant vintage. After feeding you pastel cakes and talking to Teddy as if he were your chaperone, he’d suggest walking through a cemetery at twilight, holding your hand and recounting tragic love stories buried beneath the stones. The whole night would feel like stepping into his haunted fairytale — and if you cry at a story he tells, he might kiss the tears from your cheeks like a lovesick prince.

Ayato Sakamaki:

Perfect Date: Late-night arcade + junk food rooftop picnic Ayato’s version of romance is messy, competitive, and loud. He’d take you out to a retro-style arcade (bonus if it’s a little underground or sketchy), where you’d challenge each other in games, winning prizes and shouting over neon lights. He gets overly invested in beating your high scores, but the moment he wins a plushie, he tosses it in your lap with a casual, “That’s for you, Chichinashi.” Afterward, he’d drag you to the roof with fast food in hand — greasy burgers and milkshakes — where you'd sit under the stars, Ayato with ketchup on his face and his head in your lap. For him, it’s not about perfection — it’s about passion.

Subaru Sakamaki:

Perfect Date: Quiet forest escape + lakeside stargazing Subaru’s perfect date is somewhere far from people. He’d take you to a secluded forest cabin or ruins, where you could talk in peace and walk beneath towering trees. He’d show you his favorite spots — maybe a hidden waterfall, an abandoned chapel, or a lake that reflects the stars. As night falls, you’d sit together in silence, maybe wrapped in his coat, watching constellations in the cold. He wouldn’t say much, but the weight of his glances and how tightly he holds your hand would say everything. His version of romance is understated, raw, and genuine.

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami:

Perfect Date: Private rare book auction + wine by the fire Ruki would take you somewhere upscale — a rare book auction, or a literary museum, where he watches you react to the knowledge and culture surrounding you. You’d bid on a book together (that he already planned to win) and then retreat to his manor to read it by the fire, sipping wine and discussing its themes like scholars. But the moment the book closes, so does the distance between you. Ruki thrives on intimacy through intellect, so the perfect date is one where you feel like you’re learning with him, not just following his lead — even if you still do.

Kou Mukami:

Perfect Date: Amusement park day + ferris wheel confession Kou’s dream date would be somewhere exciting — like a whimsical amusement park where you can take endless photos together. He’d post you on his socials (subtly), win you a huge plush toy, and pretend to act cool the whole time, but his eyes never leave you. He’d want the date to feel cinematic — sharing cotton candy, taking selfies with cat ears, screaming together on rides. The peak of the date is the top of the ferris wheel at sunset, where he gets uncharacteristically quiet, gazes at you seriously, and whispers that he doesn’t want this to ever end. It’s his way of admitting how much he cares — masked in fanfare.

Yuma Mukami:

Perfect Date: Farmer’s market + homemade garden picnic Yuma’s ideal date is surprisingly wholesome. He’d drag you to an early morning farmer’s market, teaching you how to judge the ripeness of fruit or pick the best greens. You’d carry your haul back to his garden, where you’d both prepare food together — nothing fancy, just real. Then you’d eat beneath the sun, maybe with a portable speaker playing music and his head in your lap as he munches strawberries. He finds joy in the simple things — your laughter, the dirt on your hands, your genuine smile. That kind of real-life closeness is what makes him fall even harder.

Azusa Mukami:

Perfect Date: Antique shop scavenger hunt + soft bandaging session Azusa’s perfect date would involve wandering through a dusty, antique district with you — picking out strange trinkets, broken dolls, and rusted music boxes that “remind him of you.” It’s quiet, intimate, and full of odd tenderness. He’d love if you played along — letting him put a cracked porcelain ring on your finger or asking about the stories behind things. Later, you’d sit together while he wraps your hands in soft bandages, “just in case they got hurt,” speaking in gentle tones. It’s all about rituals to him — things that prove your bond without needing words.

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami:

Perfect Date: Ballroom duet + royal garden moonlit walk Carla’s perfect date is regal — an exclusive, high-society masquerade or ballroom event in a castle-like venue. You’d waltz in silence, his hand on your waist, your breath the only thing that breaks the music. He prefers settings where status and silence speak louder than voices. But later, when the event ends, he’d walk with you through a private moonlit garden, whispering rare compliments or philosophy, pressing kisses to your knuckles. The perfect date for him is where you look and act like royalty beside him — and yet show him you're not afraid of the monster underneath.

Shin Tsukinami:

Perfect Date: Motorcycle ride + hidden mountain hot springs Shin would throw you on the back of his motorcycle and take you to a mountaintop — high-speed, dangerous, thrilling. You’d end up at a hidden hot spring, where steam curls around your bodies and he lets down his walls a little. He’d joke a lot, tease you endlessly, splash you in the water — but also sneak little glances at your face, trying to memorize what you look like when you’re relaxed. Shin’s perfect date is adrenaline-filled at first, but with a calm, grounding end where he can be just Shin, not the heir or the beast. And only you get to see that version of him.

[astrolook]

Debunking Myths and Understanding the Basics of Astrology: What You Need to Know

First of all, as an experienced astrologer in both Western and Vedic astrology and seasoned tarot reader since 2019 , I am sick and tired of these people saying "You're such a Leo", "That's so Gemini", etc. Your sun sign can be anything and still not exhibit those traits.

Ah! about the cusp. If you say you were born on the cusp, you can exhibit both traits of each sign in varying degrees. Nope, not true.

Lemme walk you through it.

Ascendant Sign : Your Ascendant sign is the mask you wear in social settings. It's how you approach new situations, how others see you before they get to know your deeper layers, and the first impression you make. It's like the lens through which you filter your life, your personal style, and even how you react to challenges.

The Ascendant is often linked to your physical traits. Your Rising sign can influence your general appearance, mannerisms, and style of dress.

For example, an Aries Ascendant may have a bold and energetic demeanor, possibly with a youthful or athletic appearance, while a Libra Ascendant might exude charm and grace, with an emphasis on balance and beauty.

It is often the "mask" you wear around others.

Sun Sign: Ah, your Sun Sign—the spotlight-hogging diva of your birth chart! You know, the one that everyone always talks about at parties. It’s the sign that tells people the bare minimum about who you are. But let’s be real—your Sun sign isn’t just a tiny sliver of who you are; it’s the star of the show. It’s the sign that you flaunt on your dating profile, throw out at brunch, and occasionally maybe even base some of your life choices on. 😜

Moon sign: Ah, your Moon sign—the moody, mysterious diva in your astrological lineup. While your Sun sign is out there shining and being all “Hey, look at me, I’m the star,” your Moon sign is like, “I’m over here in the background, deciding how you’re going to feel about literally everything.” This little celestial fellow is the emotional compass of your life, and let’s just say, it has some very opinionated feelings. One minute you’re floating on cloud nine, the next you’re spiraling because someone didn't reply to your text in 2 minutes.

Mercury Sign: The planet that rules communication, thought, and all those awkward silences in conversations. Your Mercury sign is like that internal app that decides how your brain processes things and spits them back out, whether it's through words, ideas, or, let's be honest, random tangents that no one asked for. It’s how you think, how you talk, and—more importantly—how some annoy people at dinner parties with their really unnecessary commentary.

Venus Sign : The cosmic love guru. Venus sign tells you how you love, what you’re attracted to, and how extra you can be about it. It's the cosmic Cupid, and let’s just say, it either has you swooning like a romantic comedy lead or rolling your eyes like you're stuck in a soap opera. Whether you're a lover or a fighter (or both, let's be honest), your Venus sign is a mood and a half.

Mars Sign: The Cosmic Action Hero with a Temper Tantrum. If your Mars sign were a movie character, it’d either be the intense hero who’s always saving the day or the over-caffeinated villain who’s always yelling at the screen. Mars doesn’t care about subtlety—it’s all about action, drive, and letting off a little steam when things don’t go as planned (which is, like, always).

Jupiter Sign: The Cosmic Luck Bringer, Philosopher, and General Overachiever. The planet of expansion, growth, and good vibes only. Your Jupiter sign is basically your cosmic cheerleader, always pushing you to dream bigger, go beyond your limits, and aim for the stars (because why not?). It’s the planet of abundance, wisdom, and sometimes... just a little too much of everything. Think of it as your inner party animal, philosopher, and optimist all wrapped into one.

When Jupiter’s around, everything feels a little larger than life, and it brings a touch of luck wherever you go—whether you’re trying to find your car keys or you’ve just stepped into a life-changing opportunity.

Saturn Sign: The Cosmic Taskmaster Who Won’t Let You Have Fun (But Will Help You Build an Empire) 🛠️💼

Saturn is the strict parent who makes you clean your room before you can have any fun. It’s the tough love planet, giving you those life lessons you didn’t ask for but definitely needed. Saturn is the cosmic “adulting” mentor that’s like, “Get it together, kid,” and then pushes you to build a legacy. So, thanks, I guess?

Your Saturn sign is like that one friend who won’t let you skip leg day but will definitely get you to a place where you’ll appreciate it. Let’s take a dive into the wonderful, stern world of Saturn, where laziness is not tolerated, and a good work ethic is non-negotiable.

Lemme me walk you through ascendant signs in the next post.

Curious about your birth chart and what it's really saying about you? 🌟 Slide into my DMs for a personalized astrology reading, and let's unlock the secrets of your stars. ✨ Don’t forget to check out my pinned post for pricing details! 🔮 Let’s make those cosmic connections happen! 🌙🌌

[lecsainz]

could you please write a smut of carlos? i don’t have any ideas other than the smooth operator song being included and like a “smooth opera-te me” type of joke.

SMOOTH OPERATOR

parings: carlos sainz x girlfriend!reader

authors note: I'm not entirely sure if this is what you were after, but hope you dig it!

warnings: (+18) smut, minors dni!

☆. . . masterlist !

Having a boyfriend who was a Formula One driver was something Y/N always adored, not because he was famous or wealthy – far from it. She and Carlos had known each other since school, and from the first year of elementary school, Carlos knew he would one day call Y/N his girlfriend, and that's exactly what happened. Y/N could confidently say that what she loved most about dating the Ferrari driver was that Carlos had a penchant for speed, and it reflected in all their encounters.

It wasn't that Carlos was rough or anything, but she loved the ideas he brought to the bedroom, and he was always open to hers. So, for her, dating an F1 driver was amazing.

Then, like every night after a long day of training at the gym, Carlos entered the apartment he shared with his girlfriend. However, as soon as he stepped into the apartment, he found it unusually quiet, with no lights on.

"Y/N?" Carlos dropped his gym bag on the shelf next to the door. "Cariño?"

With no response, Carlos decided to call Y/N, but just as he was about to dial her number, he heard a noise coming from the bathroom. "Hmmm." He was certain it was Y/N.

Carlos approached and leaned against the slightly ajar door, finding his girlfriend with a vibrator in her hands.

"Oh, my God..." he moaned softly at the sight.

Carlos had nothing against Y/N satisfying herself, especially since he spent a lot of time away from home due to his commitments with Ferrari. He thought he might climax just from watching his girl find pleasure.

Carlos moved closer to the door, and then, as if it were meant to happen, he fell to the floor with a thud.

"MY GOD!" Y/N tossed the vibrator aside and rushed out of the bathtub to help her boyfriend on the floor. "Carlos Vázquez de Castro, what the hell was that?" She tried to hold back a laugh at the boy on the floor who had a pained expression.

"Do you want help?" she asked and received a mumble in response.

"I think it's better if you don't get too close unless you put on some clothes because this sight is too tempting, and I have a strong desire to fuck you right there in that bathtub." As soon as he said that, Y/N could feel her entire body tense up, and she got slight shivers just imagining Carlos taking her in the bathtub.

"Do this," Y/N leaned in and took the opportunity to sit on her boyfriend, who was lying on the floor. "Smooth opera-te me." she whispered in Carlos's ear, and he could swear he would never find anyone more perfect than the girl in his lap.

As if that served as a response, Y/N felt her boyfriend's member harden beneath her. "Make me climax like you always do, mi amore..."

Without any prior warning, Carlos got up, taking her along. "Is this a challenge?" he asked, raising an arched eyebrow.

"Who knows?" she replied, and Carlos playfully slapped her on the behind.

He pressed her torso against his with increasing desire, feeling her respond in the same way, as if they wanted to merge their bodies into one. When Y/N's lips were starting to ache from the pressure against Carlos's, she decided to start pulling up Carlos's gym shirt as she explored her boyfriend's muscular body with her hands. Her legs unconsciously tightened around Carlos's hips, lifting her up, and he took advantage of this to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He continued to escalate his touches until he found Y/N's breasts, which he cupped with his hands, releasing a muffled groan against her lips. Y/N allowed him to enjoy for a while, and then she broke the kiss with a bite to his lower lip, signaling for him to remove Carlos's shirt.

Carlos quickly moved, letting out a frustrated groan at being apart from her. He removed his shirt and hurriedly took off his sweatpants. When Y/N realized her boyfriend was without underwear, she let out a low moan.

"Carlos..." She hugged Carlos from behind.

"I-I know, mi amore," he replied, tossing his pants aside and returning to kiss Y/N. Carlos broke the kiss calmly and somehow managed to get into the bathtub, bringing Y/N with him. She lifted herself until they found the right position. Carlos placed his hands on her waist gently, as if to encourage her, and Y/N took him inside her slowly. She felt him grip her waist tighter as she reached the limit.

To find some stability in the small bathtub space, Y/N held onto her boyfriend's shoulders, trembling, and let all those new sensations wash over her. The couple stopped kissing and opened their eyes, staring deeply into each other. The connection through their gazes was so intense it could almost be touched.

Carlos closed his eyes, furrowing his brow slightly and sliding his hands down to her hips, while Y/N resumed the kiss, feeling pleasure growing monstrously and suddenly inside her. She wrapped her arms around Carlos's neck, tangling her fingers in his damp, sweaty brown hair, and began moving over him, accelerating with each passing second. Soon, Carlos was moaning again, as was she, and it was becoming almost impossible for both of them to kiss to muffle their moans and not disturb the neighbors.

"I-I'm close," Y/N gasped.

Carlos adjusted the angle and helped her go faster, intensifying each thrust and drawing a loud moan from her. "Shhhh, we have to be quiet, cariño."

Their faces remained close, intensifying the warm mix of their breaths until Sainz hit a sensitive spot in Y/N, bringing her to climax, followed by him.

She allowed her body to rest against his, unable to determine which of them was more breathless. She buried her face in the curve of Carlos's neck, letting his scent calm her, and after a few seconds, she felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her even closer to his chest. She closed her eyes, embracing him around the waist as well, and could hear him chuckle softly.

"I love it when we do something different," he said.

Even without much breath left, she couldn't help but let his soft laughter infect her. Carlos laughed along with the girl in his arms and kissed her head.

[pearlywritings]

Blade + the erhu, please and thank you!

(Miss pearly, is that another reference to the phantom of the opera? Just asking)

Crazy but this prompt was asked for Blade twice! And once again - yep, that's the reference! (hopefully you all are not fed up with me yet--) On side note - it's been always a challenge to write for this man and every single time I pray that I didn't fuck up his character,,,,,,,

Always there

pairing: Blade x reader

prompt: "I will wait for you"

word count: 812 words

~ The Music of the Night event ~

The ever-sullen Stellaron Hunter has always had a hard time understanding your reasons to stay by his side. It isn't obnoxious clinging or following him wherever he goes, or even intentional lingering in the shadows nearby like you are some kind of a stalker.

No, it is none of that. You are just… there.

Obviously you are always there - working for Elio at the base as the Hunter’s personal chef quite literally predestines it. Blade doesn't remember the details, but it had probably something to do with Kafka and her complaints about Silver Wolf’s eating routine. And his. And the fact you poisoned someone to the point of royally pissing the IPC, which put “Wanted” posters across the universe with your face on them and landed you in the care of Destiny's Slave.

What he means is…you are strangely there for him.

You notice the dishes he takes liking in (despite him dodging all your questions) and cook him those when you think he looks especially gloomy. Every time he departs on a mission, somehow you manage to send him off with a packed meal - either you slip it into his luggage, or pass it on through his assigned partner or simply distract with conversation and thrust the container right into his hands. Lately, as you two got closer, you also started adding self-made sedatives and sleeping medicine to his meals. Did he try to kill you for that? No, but he did suggest adding poison next time.

Which you never did.

Why did his sleep get better?

Of course, you’ve grown to be caring towards every member of the crew - making Kafka her favorites whenever she had a shitty day, gently but sternly forcing Silver Wolf to eat properly, coming up with ways to feed Firefly delicious food too and letting her help in the kitchen, and managing to fulfil wild requests Elio sometimes has.

But Blade feels like he is special to you. Even if it took him half a year to admit it to himself.

“I’ll be here as long as you need me,” you once told him, as you were stirring the pot and Blade came to the kitchen to hide from the girls who, led by Kafka, wanted to mess with him. Too focused on wrapping clean bandages around the fingers of his left hand, the man didn’t let the thought sink at first, but once he did, he said nothing.

Something told him these were not the words you said to everyone.

Why did they bring him an allusive sense of peace?

Later on he started spending time with you - in training. Being a chef and knowing your way with the knife is good, but, as you reasonably noted, you are a part of the Stellaron Hunters now. It’ll never hurt to learn to defend yourself. 

Blade has never been known to be gentle. No matter if you are a sword master or a newbie - he’d go hard on you anyway, putting you through a hell of a routine. He was honestly thinking you would’ve soon realized that such harsh treatment wasn’t for you and turned to one of the female members. However, every day he’s at the base, you come. You whine and huff from exhaustion, but don’t complain. You listen carefully to his instructions whenever he stops the fight to give them (and he does so rarely, preferring the learning through the ‘life or death’ combat). You lie on the floor of the training area every single time the training ends, look up at him holding his sword and boring his red-hot coals of the eyes into you, and promise with a shaky smile, that ‘ten more minutes, a shower, and I’ll go make us an after-workout snack’.

Usually it’s more than ten minutes. Occasionally he has to carry your body to the showers, and you go limp on his shoulder on purpose. He quite often waits for you after he’s done with his own clean up. He rarely misses your cooking afterwards.

When did he start standing close to you as you cook, looming over you, staring at your hands over your shoulder?

He also doesn’t know how you two ended up sharing a living space, a bed even. Once, twice, a week, a month… At some point he just accepted it as a part of his life now. After all, you are not making it worse.

He is sane enough to be honest with himself - it got a little bit better.

You kiss his scars and run your fingers through his hair to calm him.

He lets you.

You are not clingy though.

He turned out to be one.

“I want you to see me as the place where you can always return to.”

He…bitterly laughs, but doesn’t say anything against.

“I will be waiting for you.”

…

He chooses to believe you.

[jemgirl86]

“would you be able to share recs for sambucky AUs? more so complete AUs rather than canon adjacent or divergence (and i love a bit of angst or stakes over pure fluff)”

So, anon, these aren’t all explicitly angsty per se, but they do have high(ish) stakes for the most part, and one of them is very angsty.

Okay, so let me start by shamelessly recommending a few of my own lol

Stolen Moments, 98.8K words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

The Game of Love ,18.7K words

“You know what tonight is, right?” Steve asked, cutting him off.

Bucky didn’t quite grunt by way of replying, but it was close.

Of course he knew what was happening that night. He didn’t live under a rock. The whole country knew, and there wasn’t a New York native alive who wasn’t at least a little excited about it. Even people who had been calling the Knicks bums for the past twenty or so years were rooting for them. For the first time since nineteen ninety-nine, the Knicks had made it to the NBA Finals. Even more unbelievable, people who weren’t even from New York thought they might actually win it.

And it was all thanks to Sam Wilson.

Or: Ten years is a long time - maybe too long, but maybe not…

Baby Come Back, This is a series that currently has 6 works, 29.9K words total

Sam and Bucky are divorced, trying to co-parent, and really just trying to make it. These are their stories. Dum dum dum.

Or: This is basically a soap opera.

Now for some of my favorites:

The Looking Glass by @six2vii, 75.7K words

Famed professor and skilled empath Dr. Saamuel Wilson is back from paternity leave and ready to start his academic career anew at the School of Marvle for Mages, Mythics, and Magical Beings. He is viewed as a threat by the Consortia of Magic due to his immense power and its terrifying potential. They send the Winter Warlock, Sentinel James Barnes, to spy on him. The powerful mages clash instantly but learn to work together to defeat an even greater foe.

The First Gentleman by @glittercake, 55.7K words

Sam knew what he was signing up for when he married a senator running for Office. He knew what Riley’s job demanded. He knew the hours, the stress, the milling, and the perpetual buzz. Living his life constantly surrounded by everything, by an entire nation.

But he had always dreamed of a quiet life. A place in the country with the man he loves, acres of greenery and trees, and flowers around them. A long winding road they could drive down on a warm Sunday afternoon. A big old farmhouse with a wraparound porch and a French kitchen. Some horses and a stable, and a little creek covered with a blanket of mist in the mornings.

He gets what he wants in the most horrible of ways.

The Boys of Summer by @siancore, 84.2K words

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college.

What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

These Things That Would Eat Us by @abarbaricyalp, 18.5K words

What's supposed to be a fun summer as camp counselors soon takes a turn for the horrific when monsters attack

(Horror movie au)

Okay, so each of the authors mentioned above have multiple SamBucky AUs, and these authors don’t miss! I would recommend going through each of their ao3 accounts. I promise you will not regret it 😊