#I actually have a few gripes with it here and there

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Playing Inquisition for the first time (past finding Skyhold) for the first time 9 years after it came out is so fucking wild.

I know, vaguely, what's going on due to the nature of Spoilers Don't Matter After A Few Years/seeking out spoilers bc they help me determine if something is worth my time/general (casual) fandom osmosis...but also it has been years since I looked into anything seriously/people discussed anything in a way that's not at all dissimilar to ASOIAF Fandom Decade Long Wait Brain Worms, so I am just being blindsided by half the information I feel like I already knew at some point (& probably had hidden deep in the recesses of my brain).

[prokopetz]

Do you ever have a passive gripe with the way trade is represented in medieval/sci-fi/post-apocalyptic fiction? I can't shake the feeling that those are societies that have moved beyond the need for abstract currency - that such forms of trade are more a concession for the viewer to analogize trade to our world instead of offering some kind of unique barter for a world.

A medieval peasant isn't gonna want gold coins for jack because the next trade caravan is two seasons away, they'd much rather a useful tool or some extra fertilizer. Credits in science fiction universes can become worthless due to Future™️ hackers setting their bank accounts to extraordinarily high values, so extra parts for firearms and spaceships are much more useful. Caps in Fallout just make no sense in a world where food and water are few and far between!

I feel unreasonably grumpy about this and I wanted to know if you have any kind of insight to this kind of thing.

There are a couple of only partly related problems here:

1. The idea that the economies of most sci-fi and fantasy settings, as depicted, don't make any sense. This is absolutely true, because most science fiction and fantasy authors don't really think about that sort of thing – their settings only have economies to the extent that the details of those economies are relevant to the plot, which they usually aren't.

2. The idea that it doesn't make sense for currency to exist in these settings because most of them logically ought to have barter economies. The trouble with this assertion is that there's no such thing as a barter economy. Yes, you can describe what one would look like, but no civilisation which has ever actually existed has operated in this fashion. It's a made-up idea – at best, a spherical-cow approximation of how the exchange of goods and services operates in a stateless society, and at worst, complete bullshit.

Consequently, whether or not it makes sense for anything like currency to exist is going to depend on the particulars of how the setting's economy operates (i.e., all the details that that are getting glossed over in point 1, above). About the most we can say in nearly all cases is that we simply don't have enough information about a given fantasy or sci-fi setting's economic structure to know whether it makes sense to have currency or not; we can't just assume in the absence of further details that things will default to a barter economy, because – again – there's no such animal.

[marvelfilth]

The Witches Trap

Part 2

Pairing: dark!Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

Warnings: ghosts, description of death, paranormal activity, gore, blood, a bit of horror ig, typical ghost hunting stuff, nothing too scary tho

Words: 5.5k

Summary: you go ghost hunting with Peter, Yelena and Kate. What could go wrong?

A/n: first time trying out some spooky stuff, so bear with me. Heavily inspired by Sam and Coby on YT.

Masterlist

The way Yelena drives is far from smooth and sound, but she vehemently refuses to let Peter behind the wheel, so here you are, yelping and griping the sides of the driver's seat headrest like your life depends on it. You hiss when your head meets the roof, and Kate sends you another toothy smile from the front seat, her eyes flickering to look at Yelena every few minutes. You look to your right to check on Peter, but he is busy fumbling with equipment, his camera carefully stored away in a bag as he keeps checking the microphone.

You sigh and relax against the seat when the road finally smoothes out, and think about why you even agreed to this. Peter asked you to tag along for a new video for his YouTube channel, and by asked you mean begged you with his best puppy eyes and a bag of goodies in his hands. Apparently, if you agreed to go, Kate will go too. And if Kate goes, he won't even have to ask Yelena.

He was right.

So now the four of you are on the way to one of the most haunted places of America - Westview hotel.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Yelena asks, turning her head left and right.

"Yes," Peter answers, glancing up for a second.

"Honestly, this is too creepy already," Kate mumbles, her eyes locked on the numerous dolls pinned to the trees surrounding the road.

"The owner probably made someone do that. No way they had this type of dolls back in the eighteenth century." You try to reassure Kate as much as yourself.

"Actually, the first doll like that was made-" Peter finally looks up with an excited glint in his eyes, and you immediately press your palm against his mouth, "No. I don't need to know that."

"Ha! Little Y/n is scared," Yelena laughs, but her laughter is cut short when a twig hits the side window, making her shriek like a maniac.

"This never happened," she grumbles when the laughter finally dies out.

Relaxing against the seat you try to remember everything Peter told you about this hotel.

It got notoriously famous in the late eighties, when a high schooler got possessed by a demon and later died in a psych ward. The room the girl stayed in was closed off for twenty years after that. You wonder if Peter managed to book it.

Another thing you remember is numerous sightings of a dark, cloaked figure appearing in most random places, whether it's a supply closet or a presidential suite. It always managed to scare the shit out of anyone who was unfortunate enough to catch its interest. You shudder at the mere thought of encountering that particular entity.

"We're here," Yelena cuts off the ignition, and leans against the wheel to take a look at the building.

Your breath catches in your throat the second your eyes land on the magnificent hotel. At seven stories high it stands proudly on a hill, overlooking the vast grounds. The facade is noticeably worn, but no less majestic - a blend of dark wood and stone, a balcony stretching along its entire length. A dark figure on the corner of the rooftop makes you squint, and you gasp when you realize it's a gargoyle, albeit a very rickety one. You make a note to yourself not to walk under it.

Yelena ushers you along, shuddering as she notices the stone figures. “The air here is kinda thick,” she mutters.

You nod, feeling your chest tighten. She's right - the air grows heavier with each step you take. You hope the hotel itself is ventilated enough.

When you finally step inside you take a deep breath, looking around the foyer and spotting who you presume is the owner.

"Welcome to Westview Hotel! My name's Agatha, I'm the owner of this happy little place and your guide for today. Hope you have the worst time of your life here!" Her voice is too cheerful for the late hours, and you cringe at the full on villainous laugh she lets out.

Peter goes to speak with the woman while the rest of you look around. Yelena plops on the loveseat, her backpack thrown on the carpeted floor near her feet, and Kate just stands beside you with her mouth hanging open - you're sure you're wearing a similar expression.

While the outside of the hotel looked somewhat old and weathered, the inside completely blows you away with its beauty. It's elegant, if a bit eerie, with a grand chandelier and high arches that make the space feel even bigger.

You frown, sensing someone's eyes on you, and notice Peter glancing in your direction every so often. You send him a questioning look, but he only shakes his head, his lips pressed together and his cheeks puffed.

"Do you think he's going to sacrifice one of us to that witch? Scarlet Witch, right?" Yelena muses.

"Yeah, but I don't think you're her type." Kate winks at the blonde.

You snicker at her annoyed expression, and stumble back, accidentally bumping into someone. You turn around, an apology on your tongue, only to choke on your words when you are met with an empty lobby.

Your friends stare at you quizzically, but Agatha seems to be lost in thought, her eyes trained on the space right above your shoulder, then she slightly shakes her head, her lips pressed in a tight line.

"Sorry. I thought I bumped into someone…" You trail off, your back burning, an eerie feeling settling in your stomach.

"Sure thing, buttercup." Agatha winks at you, her mood changed back to normal in an instant.

You shudder, looking back at your friends. Yelena whispers something in Kate's ear that causes the younger one to chuckle, and Peter has his camera pointed at you.

"We already got some paranoid activity ten minutes into the night," he blabbers behind the camera, motioning for you to explain what happened.

"Um... It felt like I bumped into someone?" Talking to a camera is weird, but you manage to explain what you felt. "... I think it was nothing though, just my nerves acting up." You force a chuckle, your eyes moving to meet Agatha's stare.

She moves closer to be in the frame, and tells everyone about how much the Scarlet Witch loves to mess with younger women, her favorite pastime in this hotel seems to be entertaining the ladies. However, her idea of entertainment slightly differs from yours, and you gulp when Agatha mentions her choking sleeping guests and locking them in elevators.

"This is going to be incredible, guys," Peter says to the camera, his excitement too contagious for you to worry about your safety.

×××

The next two hours are spent walking behind Agatha and listening to her stories about various tragic deaths that occured in this hotel over the past hundreds of years. She stops every ten minutes or so in front of different rooms, each story worse than the previous one, and you shudder when she tells you a story of a woman buried alive in one of the walls, Agatha's hand casually resting on said wall.

She is telling you another story about a guy that danced on a ledge to impress a girl and fell on one of the spikes in the lobby, when you suddenly feel a tug in your chest. You stop, checking to see if anyone else felt that. Kate is staring at the ledge with her mouth wide open, Peter's busy filming Agatha and butting in with commentary (much to Agatha's displeasure), and Yelena grips Kate's hand so hard, you are sure she couldn't possibly see anything other than the wall in front of her.

You exhale and look around, trying to spot anything interesting, even though you've been looking at the same set of stairs for the past ten minutes. Strangely enough, you notice a door that surely wasn't there before, because you would've noticed it right away if it was.

While every part of this hotel was renovated, this door looks like it belongs in the past, with heavy iron hinges and a weird looking handle. There are no signs on the door, nor any numbers or words, and when something tugs on your hand, you follow the feeling.

You walk almost in haze, your friends' voices blurred in the background, unfamiliar warmth surrounding you, your chest lighter than it ever was and your mind in a euphoric state. You turn the knob and it gives in, the door rattling loudly as you tug it open, but before you could even glimpse inside, a hand slaps harshly on the wood, the door closing with a loud creak.

You blink owlishly, warmth gone and your head suddenly clear, as you take in Agatha's furious expression.

"It says 'Employees only'," she hisses through gritted teeth, and you step away from the woman.

"No, it doesn't, there's noth-" you choke on your words when you look back at the door, because now it looks like every other door in the room, 'Employees only' written in bold.

You look back at Agatha and apologize, but it seems like she doesn't hear you, her brows furrowed and her eyes flickering between you and the door.

"Okay that's hella creepy," Kate breaks the silence, her unoccupied hand digging in a pocket of her jeans to present a cross. "God will protect us." She puts it around her neck, and nods to herself.

"You don't even believe in God." Yelena jams her in the ribs, not letting go of the brunette's hand.

"You really should," Agatha casually advises, tugging at your elbow to move you further away from the door, "follow me, I'm going to tell you the story of the Scarlet Witch."

You cast one last look at the door and follow her down the hall to the very last room, something warm pressing at the low of your back to lead you. Shuddering at the feeling, you wonder why it is only you who feels something weird. Kate keeps sending you worried looks, but, other than that, she seems okay with Yelena's hand pressed firmly into her side. Peter isn't fazed at all, excitingly recording everything in sight.

Exhaling, you try to relax. If something here wants to harm you it wouldn't use such a gentle approach.

Or maybe it's just luring you in.

When you finally stop in front of room number 208 you feel a poke in your ribs, Yelena nods her head for you to look at Agatha, and you confusedly look up. Apparently, she wants you to open the door. Gulping, you move forward, your hand reaching on its own accord. You turn the doorknob with some hesitation, your hand trembling slightly. When you're met with a sight of a regular hotel room, you let out a quiet breath.

The walls are painted an unassuming beige, with green and brown accents, the earth tones bringing a feeling of calm. The four poster bed is pushed against the farthest wall, with nightstands on either side, and you could already imagine how soft it would feel to sleep in it. But the only thing that truly gets your attention is a floor to ceiling window and a french door, which hopefully leads to a balcony you spotted from the outside.

Agatha walks past you into the room, resting her weight against the foot of the bed. "It was locked," her eyes seem to be glued to yours as she speaks, "second locked door you opened today. I find that… interesting."

You are aware of Peter's camera being shoved right in your face, you're aware of Kate's hand reassuringly clasping your own, aware of Yelena's calming presence, but you are focused on something else entirely. There is this feeling again, now familiar warmth taking root in your chest, almost singing to you. You briefly close your eyes, savoring the sensation, wishing you could feel more.

"This is our most active room," Agatha says, "last year some teenagers decided to use a Ouija board in here and it got even worse. So you're in for a wild ride."

"This is nuts," Kate says from the other side of the room, trailing her hand over the painting of a burning witch.

"Oh, this actually happened here," Agatha drawls, taking note of your surprised faces, "almost a hundred young alleged witches were burnt at the stake here, on these grounds…" Agatha continues on with the story, but your eyes are stuck on Kate, on the other side of the room, your body frozen in shock. You can still feel what you thought was Kate's hand on your own, but with her standing on the other side of the room, and Yelena looking at you like you've grown two heads, you decide it's enough.

"Can you tell them to stop?" you shriek, stepping further into the room.

The warm feeling in your chest intensifies, the ghost of a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your cheek, turning your head to look at the painting. It's so gentle, so soft, it makes you lean your head in search of more.

"Them?" Agatha's voice grounds you. "I believe there's only one witch who is interested in you."

"What's going on?" Kate asks, moving away from the painting. Panic starts to rise in your chest, making you struggle to breathe. "Y/n, are you okay?" Kate's by your side in an instant, hands rubbing your sides, and you lay your head on her shoulder, silently reminding yourself that no ghost can hurt you.

"I thought you were standing beside me, I felt you take my hand, but you were on the other side of the room," you whisper against her shoulder.

"No. We're going back home." Yelena pales and tugs at your elbow, smacking the back of Peter's head with her other arm. "Your idiotic idea is going to give her a heart attack," she hisses and leads you to the door, hurriedly turning the knob.

It doesn't turn.

"What the fuck." She tries to open it again, and again, and again, until Agatha gets pissed and yells at her for trying to break the door.

"If she wants you to stay, you'll stay." She places her palm on the wooden door, and gives everyone a stern look.

"Say the word and I'll break that door open." Peter reappears by your side, looking guilty as ever, his camera now hidden away.

You take a deep breath and look around, now feeling much safer with all of your friends (and Agatha) by your side. The room looks like no one has touched it in years, and the warm, calming feeling in your chest only intensified after your little break down.

Maybe the witch just wants some company.

You meet Peter's eyes and manage a smile. "I survived Yelena's driving, I'm sure I'll be fine after this."

"Are you sure?" Yelena and Peter ask you at the same time.

"Yes, guys, I'm fine. I'm just not used to it like you are," you smile at Peter, and he nods in understanding.

He spent his college years filming in haunted places, a little hobby turned into a full time job as his channel grew bigger and bigger. Usually he invites his friend Wade to film together, but this time he really wanted you to come.

"Glad we settled that. Now sit," Agatha commands.

You take a seat on the bed, Yelena and Kate immediately placing their arms around you. Peter settles in a comfortable looking chair by the window, and Agatha stays standing, clearing her throat before venturing into the story of the Scarlet Witch.

"I'm sure you know that being a redhead, green-eyed, and exceptionally smart young woman in the 17th century meant one thing."

"Barbecue," Yelena mumbles, earning a scathing glare from the older woman.

"Yes. But here's the thing - the Scarlet Witch was never burned at the stake, and not because she was so good at staying hidden, but because she has never had a physical presence in this world, at least one that we know of. There's no proof of her existence, no paintings and no pictures, no sightings either."

Yelena shifts beside you. "Then how do you even know-"

Agatha cuts her off with another scathing glare, before continuing on. "We know because every single one of these poor women cried out her name before their inevitable death. They begged her to save them, but she never did."

"That still doesn't-"

"For the love of god, just shut up and let me finish!" The older woman shrieks, throwing her hands in the air. Momentarily closing her eyes, she clenches her jaw. "She never saved any of these poor girls, feeding on their fear, anger and desperation. She enjoyed what was happening. Hell, she spurged it on, manipulating minds, changing people until they became unrecognizable, and after this hotel was built she took charge, driving owners and residents away, leading people to their inevitable death, and lately possessing unsuspecting women. All of those poor people had one thing to say - 'it was the Scarlet Witch'." She shifts on her feet, turning to look out the window. "Hundreds of years of terror, but there was one good thing she's done. There was a particularly nasty witch trial, the poor girl was accused of seducing a priest's daughter. Imagine the horrors she was bound to be faced with if they got their hands on her. They never did, she escaped their clutches, and every single man involved in the hunt on the girl was brutally murdered. The girl died of old age in the safety of her own home, forever protected by the magic of the Scarlet Witch." Suddenly, her eyes lock on yours. "There's no trace of the Scarlet Witch, but there's a painting of the woman she saved. I'd show it to you, but for you it'll be the same as looking in a mirror, so I'll save myself the trouble."

Peter suddenly sits up straighter, nodding along to Agatha's words.

Kate slides her hand away from your shoulders. "Don't want to make her jealous or anything," she whispers, looking around.

"Do you say this to everyone or..?" You hesitantly speak up.

Her eyes turn serious, causing a chill to run down your spine. "Oh no, buttercup, you're a spitting image of the only woman she deemed worthy enough to save."

"She's not lying," Peter says, "that's actually the reason why I asked you to come." He sends you a sheepish smile, and shows you a picture on his phone. It's an old painting, weathered by time, but undoubtedly beautiful.

The woman looks just like you.

You gulp, your heart hammering in your chest. "Well, I'm not her."

"Maybe not. It's not like it matters." Agatha mumbles, standing up, a faraway look in her eyes. "She must've had her reasons to save the poor girl, and I suspect they were far from noble. Be careful." She looks at you one last time before turning to Peter. "Well, it's been fun entertaining you, but it's nearing midnight, so I'll leave you to your ghost hunting, or whatever it is that you're doing." Her lips purse at the numerous cameras Peter's unloaded from his bag.

"Wait!" You jump up, stalling Agatha. "How do you even know about what happened at the trials? Is there some kind of document?" You're aware of the absurdity of your questions, after all you are the one who experienced all of the activity so far, and while some of it could be blamed on your nerves or your brain playing tricks on you, the door accident still burns at the back of your mind.

"You don't believe me?" Agatha smirks, making you shift uncomfortably. "Don't worry, you'll see, you have a long night ahead." She sends you one last look, and easily opens the door before disappearing behind it.

You fall back on the duvet, pressing your palms against your face. The past hour puts an uncomfortable weight on your chest, and you struggle to wrap your mind around the fact that you're probably going to be targeted even more as the night goes on, either by your terrified, overly anxious mind, or the Scarlet Witch.

The warm feeling you felt when you first stepped into the room slowly disappeared, leaving you to wonder if it's done its job in luring you in.

"Okay, it's time to-"

"We're not using a Ouija board."

"- light up some candles." Peter says, looking quizzically at Yelena. "I'm not stupid, you know." He huffs, rolling his eyes.

You snort, shaking your head at your friends' antics. "Why do we need candles?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "To communicate with ghosts."

"Don't you have some fancy tech for that?"

"I prefer to keep it simple," he shrugs.

You share a look with Yelena. "And we'll be left talking to the AC," you mumble loud enough for Peter to hear and send you a middle finger.

"There's no AC in this room. Some people use flashlights, but I prefer candles. We'll also use a spirit box."

"We're not catching any spirits in a box, right?" You sit up, eyes darting between your friends.

Peter sighs and goes on a rant about his tools, explaining how everything works. To your great relief, you won't have to catch anyone, just put on a blindfold, some noise canceling headphones, and let some spirit talk though one of you.

"Sounds fun," Kate gulps.

"I'm not doing that." You shake your head, crossing your arms.

Peter looks up from the floor, where he adjusts the rem pod, the piece of equipment going off when he touches it with a tip of his finger, calibrating the sensitivity. "Yelena will do that."

It's almost comical how far Yelena's jaw falls. "And why is that, Parker? Why don't you let some spirit use you as a radio?"

"Um… my tarot reader told me you'll do best out of all of us."

Kate starts cackling like a maniac, clutching her stomach and bending over. You can't help laughing either, burrowing your face into the pillow to keep quiet.

Yelena continues arguing with Peter, and you decide to leave them to it and satisfy your curiosity. You smile at the questioning smile Kate sends you, and gesture to the balcony door.

You were right, it is the balcony you saw from the outside, stretching all the way to the other side of the hotel. You sigh and lean against the railing, taking in the view. If you thought it looked terrifying on the way here, it looks even worse from high up. Moonlight shines on crooked trees surrounding the land around the hotel, dark and menacing, broken branches hanging on the last threads. There is a well within walking distance, not too far away from where you parked the car. You swear to yourself you won't let Peter drag you over there, it looks way too creepy.

You finally relax, letting your eyes fall shut for a second, but a blurry movement to your left forced them open. You grip the railing, squinting.

Nothing.

"What the fuck." Kate's voice sounds from the inside, and you rush back just in time to see her exit the adjoined bathroom, snapping the door shut with a terrified look on her face. "No. Oh fuck no. Oh no, no, no."

Peter sits up, alarmed. "What is it?"

"There's blood on the mirror," she whispers, her hands shaking violently, "and in the tub, and on the floor."

Peter immediately gets up, taking the only camera that's been filming the whole time with him. You follow your friend, not paying attention to your shaking hands and your hammering heart.

When the door opens you see a pristine bathroom, so clean it's almost mocking. He inspects every corner from every possible angle, only to come up short.

"Guys?" Kate calls out from behind the door. "Are you good?"

"There's nothing he-" you freeze mid sentence when your eyes land on the mirror.

It's fogged up, one word clearly written.

Your name.

You reach out - not of your own violation, your hand guided by some unseen force - and touch the reflective glass right where your name is. You're hit with a vision, bits and pieces of what feels like distant memory escaping the prison your mind put them in.

You see a wrinkled face of an old man, his expression pure disgust as he spews something right in your face. The scene changes abruptly, and now you're in a dark cell, with only the moon to keep you company. Your heart clenches at the pure anguish you're hit with, the desperation drowning you, leaving you no room to breathe. There's a sudden blur, and everything turns blinding white, and then… you feel that warmth again. A woman stands in front of you, reaching out, her eyes glinting red. She looks ethereal, her skin pale, almost sheer, her unruly hair pushed back by a red tiara. You gulp, feeling the power radiating from her, chest aching with the need to submit to it.

You stumble away from the mirror. There's no warmth in your chest now, only pure, unconcealed dread. You lean against the door, palms pressed to your face. Peter doesn't dare breathe, his hands only shaking slightly as he makes sure to get it in the frame.

"Where did you just go?" He whispers, not daring to speak any louder.

You shake your head, blinking back tears. "Tell me you did this. Tell me it's a prank."

He looks at you, eyes full of fear. He bites on his lower lip, eyes wide. "I did this. I totally did this." He nods rapidly, ushering you out of the room.

Kate and Yelena wait on the other side, each holding a candelabra. You don't even bother to ask where they found them, heading straight to the balcony for a breath of fresh air while Peter explains what happened.

You look at the full moon, rubbing your chest in tight circles.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Again, and again.

The floorboards of the balcony creak, along with the railing, and you wonder if it's all gonna fall to the ground, and bury you in a mess of wood and cement. Maybe that's what the witch wants - for you to stay here forever.

You feel the remains of that need, that hunger for the witch. You long to see her again, even if it's just a glimpse, a whiff of her presence.

When you come back, the lights are off, and Peter is already asking questions, Yelena's terrified expression telling you everything you need to know about the answers they've been provided with.

The candle on the nightstand goes out, and Peter blinks, looking at you. "Weird."

"What?" You ask, looking around, hair on the nape of your neck standing up.

"He asked the ghosts if they wanted us to leave." Kate answers.

"That means they do." Yelena points at the candle.

You shiver, a breeze from the balcony making you curl in on yourself, eyes flickering to every dark corner of the room, flinching whenever you see shadows from the moonlight that look a little too ominous.

Someone is watching you, you're sure. A part of you hopes it's her.

"And why is that weird?" You ask Peter, watching as he collects the candles. You sigh in relief, glad to have missed the conversation.

"I thought they liked us - you - at least," he mumbles.

"Maybe they want us gone so the witch can have some alone time with Y/n." Yelena's brows jump up and down suggestively, and you can't help, but laugh, some of the tension finally seeping away.

That is, until the last candle on the nightstand lights up again, completely on its own.

Peter staggers back, dropping the stack in his hands. "No fucking way," he whispers, "that never happened before."

He pulls back to check the camera, making sure it's still recording.

"That's a yes, right?" Kate gulps, looking at you with wide eyes. "She wants you wants you. It's not a coincidence."

You take a seat on the rocking chair in the corner and close your eyes, reminding yourself that nothing here could ever hurt you. It doesn't really work when you still feel eyes on you. Your hands tremble, and your legs feel too heavy to stand on. Every sound is amplified, your senses going into overdrive, so when a clock stops ticking, you immediately notice.

The clock reads 12:08, the hands still for a moment, before resuming their course.

You're slowly starting to wish you never agreed to come to this place.

Agatha's words ring in your head. What if the witch thinks you're that poor girl? That'll explain the witches' interest in you. Maybe she made you see those visions to help you remember.

But… What if it's not even her that's been following you? What if it's one of the dark entities Agatha told you about? The thought makes you even more uncomfortable - you'd prefer the Scarlet Witch to haunt you instead of some dark, trapped soul, no matter how absurd it sounds.

"Hey," Kate approaches you.

You blink, and offer her a hesitant smile. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" She bites on her lip, her hands on your knees.

You nod, and take her hands in yours. "I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up."

She sighs heavily, head falling to rest on your lap. "Same," she mumbles, "I feel like a prey."

You rub her shoulders, hoping to ease some of her tension. "We'll be out of here in the morning."

She looks up, smiling. "Actually, we're not sleeping here. Peter said we'll try to talk to them one last time and then go."

You hum, wondering why the information makes you feel worse. Shouldn't you be relieved to leave earlier?

"Okay, come here," Peter calls, putting noise canceling headphones on Yelena's head.

Kate jumps up, her eyes lightening up at the sight of Yelena sitting rigidly on the chair, a blindfold and headphones in place. "Oh, this is gonna be good," she smiles, settling in front of the blonde.

Peter looks at you. "I think you should ask the questions."

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. You think of something appropriate to ask - something that would reveal information without offending any of the spirits here.

"Are we here alone?" You ask, and everyone turns to look at Yelena, awaiting an answer.

Yelena's head bobs up and down, like she's listening to her favorite song, but you know for sure it's just white noise.

"Hello," Yelena says, smiling slightly.

Not alone, then.

You nod, and Peter gestures for you to continue.

"My name is Y/n, what is your name?"

It's quiet for a little while, occasional squeaks from the balcony making you jump up and look around.

When Yelena doesn't answer, Peter decides to speak up. "Did you follow us here from the lobby? Was it you-"

"Shut up," Yelena barks.

Kate stumbles back on the floor, and settles against the foot of the bed. "Oh fuck."

Peter takes a step back, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry." He nods at you, urging you to continue.

"Do you not like him?" You ask.

"In… in the way…" her voice is unsure as she trails off.

"Peter's in the way? In the way of what?" Kate speaks up, looking at you.

"Deal," the blonde whispers, "owe."

Peter frowns. "You made a deal and you owe someone?"

Yelena purses her lips, tilting her head to the side like she can't quite figure out what is being said.

The bathroom door slowly creaks open.

"Are you in the bathroom?" Kate's voice shakes, and you take her hand, shuffling closer to the girl.

"Blood."

You exhale, looking at the open doorway with wide eyes.

Kate nods rapidly, her hand trembling. "There was a lot of blood. You scared the shit out of me."

Yelena chuckles, "Feed."

So whatever is here has been feeding on your fear.

"Who are you?" You ask again.

"You know," Yelena replies. "You all do."

"What's behind that door?" You have the strongest urge to go back there.

Yelena chuckles, shaking her head. “Go see for yourself.”

Light starts flickering, tears spring to your eyes, and you fight the urge to curl into a ball and cry. Yelena turns her head and sits up, leanings towards you.

"You forgot."

"Forgot about what?" You shudder, eyes darting between the door and Yelena.

"Our deal."

Peter darts to the other side of the room and snaps the door to the bathroom shut, his mouth set in a flat line. "We're leaving."

"She can't," Yelena singsongs.

"There's no deal. You're mistaken," Peter snaps, collecting the equipment.

"What deal?" You hesitantly ask.

Lightning strikes outside, a loud boom of thunder following. The painting of the burning witch falls.

"I own y-"

Peter tugs off the headphones, Yelena's mouth snaps shut. She tugs off the blindfold and blinks, brows set in confusion. "Are we gonna start any time soon?"

Kate groans, falling face first to the floor. "Fuck my life."

_______________________

Before you yell at me - yes, there will be a part two

[beautyinsage]

wants and needs

you got married because it was convenient — why not enjoy the benefits that come with it?

gojo x reader.

cw: arranged marriage au, you don't particularly like each other but the sex is good, (yes you've had sex before), (no this is not an enemies to lovers type beat), (more like just good sex between two people who happen to be married!), banter, sexual tension, lowk public-sex public-flirtation, unprotected sex, maaajor exhibition kink

"what the hell are you doing here?”

“last time i checked, sweetheart, the invitation was addressed to mr. and mrs. gojo satoru.”

"that wasn't the question."

"and yet, that's my answer."

you tsk your tongue in annoyance. “i told you that i would take care of this one.” that's what always happens. you and your husband aren't particularly fond of these soirees—him more so than you—and you often switch off on being the representative. never before have the two of you attended the same event. that is, until now.

satoru raised an eyebrow in amusement at your attitude. “yeah? well if you hadn't rushed out of the house this morning, you would know that i was coming and i could’ve picked you up on the way. shame.” you roll your eyes and start to move away, but he snakes an arm around your waist, shifting so he can lower his mouth to your ear. “though, the delay did have its perks—the dress compliments you beautifully.”

you cheeks warm, but you stare straight ahead, your voice far more nonchalant than you felt, “really? that’s good. you paid for it.”

he pulls back, and he meets your smirk with an amused grin, “oh? get yourself a few more then.” his hand then shifts upward, and you feel his thumb swipe over your breast lightly: subtle to a viewer, but as subtle as a gun to your nerves. despite your shock at his boldness, you have to resist the overwhelming urge to press into him.

part of you wanted to be furious. you were in public. at a high-class function. with everyone you could possibly know all in one room. he was insane.

but… on the other hand—

his thumb swipes over your breast again, this time pressing the slightest bit harder.

—it was all so incredibly hot. 

“satoru—“ you whisper, every inch of your skin burning as you wanted to be closercloser—

“did you know that you only call me by my name when you’re pissed off or you want me to fuck you? in this moment, it actually seems like it’s both,” he snickers menacingly, and you open your mouth, ready to snap at him, when one of the elders approaches him.

“gojo-san! you show up twenty minutes late to an event we specifically told you not to be late for—“

satoru laughs easily, completely pretending as if he hadn't just promised you the most sinful things. he slips his hand back down to your lower waist before effortlessly engaging with the man’s griping. 

gulping lightly, you refocus, blurring out the impossible want flowing through your veins, and paste on the realest fake smile you can muster. you just need to get through the night.

-

you did actually get through the night. most of it anyways.

the whole event went smoothly. the heat was practically palpable between you and satoru, but both of you kept your cool until it was over.

but now, skip ahead, when you're driving home: the two of you were in a car, in the back seat, sitting on opposite sides, both looking straight ahead.

hence the "most of it" part.

now, all that felt palpable was the awkwardness. the haze of lust and want demanded attention, and any attempt of deflection would not be tolerated. and yet, you were stuck, in a car, with satoru — well, satoru and your driver.

you bounced your knee as you impatiently checked for the millionth time to see if you were any closer to home. 

(you weren’t.)

these were the moments that you wished you could just warp home with him—damn the awful migraines that result from it—but you knew satoru would never allow it without good reason (unfortunately, sex is not a good enough reason for him).

desperate to fill the silence and pass the time, you look over to the person driving you home.

“different driver today?” you ask satoru, tense as you squeeze your legs together, pressing as close to the side door as possible.

“ah, yeah, gave ijichi the day off today.”

“oh,” you murmur, your tone almost introspective as you glance at him for a second, “interesting.”

there’s a terse pause, where satoru looks at you intensely as you fix your gaze straight. his eyes don’t leave the side of your face as he says to the driver, “haru? roll up the partition please, thank you.”

the divider goes up and silence engulfs the two of you. satoru shamelessly breaks it, calling your name knowingly. you refuse to take his bait and continue to stare straight ahead. 

he says it once more, dragging out the last syllable as he leans closer. 

you huff, turning your head, but your indignant response falls short under his gaze. 

you knew that look. 

it was the look that you thought about on the more lonely nights, in your bedroom with your fingers between your thighs. it was the look that made you melt, made you always crawl back for more. it was the look that meant that he wanted to fuck you—now. 

(you also knew, with that look? it was only a matter of time before you said yes.)

unable to form any words, you simply nod your head, and then he is on you. he grips the side of your face and brings his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. 

his hand moves to grope roughly at your breast, squeezing slightly. you break away to choke out a moan, and he presses his lips down your neck. moving quickly, he pulls down the strap of your dress to expose your very thin bra. impatient as ever, his mouth is on your nipple through the fabric, and you whimper and press closer to him. 

your eyes fall shut as you bask in the lust. it was always him. only he could reduce you to this. 

grabbing your opposite leg, satoru shifts you onto his lap, a hand gently guiding your head so you wouldn’t bump it as you adjusted. your dress’ skirt pooled around the two of you, and with both hands, he grinds you down onto him. your barely clothed clit makes contact with his cock straining against his trousers. 

you fly forward, muffling your moans against satoru’s neck as he rocks you against him. he snickers lightly, shifting you down for a second so he could unbutton his pants and pull down his briefs slightly. his cock was ready for you, practically pulsing in his hand. “you know baby, the partition is soundproof. you can be as loud as you want.” he strokes himself a few times before pressing his tip against your clit, teasing lightly. “unless, of course, you wish that it wasn’t?” 

you want to protest, to tell him to shut up and go to hell, but all that escapes a surprised moan as he lifts you, swipes your panties to one side, and presses you back down to his cock. 

you both moan at the feeling, the tension haunting you the entire night making it so that all he had to do was simply slip into you. god, it felt like you could feel every inch of him — and you couldn’t get enough. “satoru—“ you whine, thrusting shallowly, trying to get more friction.

“what?” he says satirically, caressing his fingers up and down the length of your back.

you glare, and although you’re sure your pout and blushing cheeks take away from the intimidation factor you were going for, his gaze softens.

“oh sweetheart, i’m being too mean. let me fix that.”

nothing in this world could have prepared you for what was next, because next thing you knew, the man was fucking up into you perfectly, stroking you just right, grinding you down onto him flawlessly. your hiccups of pleasure were leaving you before you could stop them, and you gripped a hand into his hair as the other dug into his expensive suit jacket desperately—with the way your nails latched on, you wouldn't be surprised if a bill was waiting for you in the morning (it's okay—you both knew you would never pay it).

“god, you’re so fucking sexy baby,” he mumbles, sounding practically drunk as he speaks, “make me wanna fuck you in front of everyone today—make me wanna show everyone how good you are for me. how good you always are. you’d like that, wouldn't you?”

embarrassment was apparently thrown out the window three blocks ago because you sob out a wanton yes and squeeze him tightly. you feel yourself climb exponentially higher.

“ohh, baby, you like that, don’t you? you want me to show them who you belong to? or do you want to show everyone who i belong to hmm?”

he laughs breathily as you conveniently decline to answer, focusing more on the rapidly approaching peak, “that’s okay sweetheart, i’m yours. and you’re mine. my little wife, understood? now be good and take my cum.”

it was over before you could stop it. you stutter out a brief “satoru— c-cumming!” before you shatter, mouth falling open as you breathe in little gasps. clenching tightly, your hips start to jerk as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

the sudden tightness makes satoru curse as his thrusts get impossibly harder, head tilting back as he chases his high. “fuck—fuck, gonna cum, gonna fucking cum—ah, ah—fuck i’m cumming—“

his lips immediately latch onto yours as he climaxes, groaning as he paints your walls with his cum, and you both work each other down from your respective highs. 

the car feels suddenly quiet as both your gentle pants fill the air. your eyes meet, and you're suddenly reminded that this man is your husband. what he offers you isn't a want — it's a need.

you need your husband. there's no one else who can do this—no one else who can make you feel this alive.

suddenly, satoru's eyes widen and a pained groan escapes him. “fuck, i’m going to have to fire this guy.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, confused at first, but then you realize. panic mixed with embarrassment mixed with an inexplicable aftershock of pleasure begins to bloom inside your chest.

“yeah,” he admits, scratching his head almost innocently, “i lied. the divider isn’t soundproof.” 

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Jamil Viper - Luxe Couture Voice Lines

Summon Line: It seems an animated movie on the Fairest Queen is getting a remake. Part of what should be interesting is seeing how it'll work as a live-action.

Groooovy!!: We can't miss the viewing of the live-action Beautiful Queen movie. Let's hurry to the screening.

Home: This is high-quality tailoring.

Home Idle 1: I can't believe that Ace is just following all of Vil-senpai's direction so obediently. It'd be great if he could do that during our club activities too...

Home Idle 2: If Vil-senpai's fans were to figure out where he is, we would be completely overrun by them. It won't hurt to keep a careful eye on our surroundings.

Home Idle 3: As soon as we left the restaurant, Azul wouldn't shut up giving his ratings on every little dish. What is he, a glorified food critic?

Home Idle - Login: Not only do we get to go shopping in the Fairest City, but also attend a private screening at a film festival... This should be a fully enriching time.

Home Idle - Groovy: If you have any issues, let me know right away. If I'm going to have to deal with something troublesome, I'd rather get it out of the way as soon as possible.

Home Tap 1: I've recognized a few of the guests here at the film fest venue as people I've seen before at banquets thrown by the Asim family. Looking back on it now, that makes those banquets even more incredible.

Home Tap 2: I would always practice the dance numbers from musicals until I had them down perfectly. ...I'm talking about when I was a kid, though.

Home Tap 3: I'm not surprised the tailoring and fabric of this high-brand outfit is excellent quality. But it might be a little too fancy that there won't really be another chance to wear it...

Home Tap 4: Guess I could buy some cosmetics for my little sister. Oh, but wait... She might just gripe about my taste if I actually picked one out for her.

Home Tap 5: I thought Grim was going to cause a ruckus during the movie. Keep a better eye on him as his prefect, will you? Please.

Home Tap - Groovy: Sure hope you read that book on table manners I gave you before we started the trip. Really would like it if you didn't embarrass me since I have sit alongside you.

Requested by Anonymous.

[messycunt]

So.. I just red your Hucow Collection on Ao3 and that alternate AU where MC is the Breeding Cow had me well.. Listening? Reading? Blushing, Screaming? Ahem. No because imagine Cow Hybrid! MC as the farms breeding Cow🗣

All the Bulls fawn over her and just want to breed her silly. Of course, crowley would make immense Profit from having his bulls mate with such a pretty little cow! Or the rivalry that would blossom between the boys! Oh and not to forget MC's best selling Milk! It just tastes so sweet that everyone wants some💕

Just wanted to share that thought with you! (feel frew to write about it)

May i take the place/role of 🎀 - Anon if it isnt taken already?<3

Eat enough and stay hydrated Lovely💋

WELCOME BOW ANON I whipped this up in like 15 mins just throwing stuff out there 

characters: Cater, Trey, Ace, Deuce, Crowly, Vil, Rook, Epel, Riddle, Idia, Kalim, Malleus, Lilia 

cw: hybrids(hucows), lactation, breeding kink, exhibitionism, three/foursome, double penetration in one hole, dumbification, afab reader

so so much can come of this like just go along w me here kay?

Ace and Deuce being too impatient to take turns with you like usual but too horny to bother properly fighting so they resort to trying to shove themselves into your dripping hole at the same time. Stretching you almost to your limit but it's ok because you'll endure it for them right?

Cater and Trey share you often as well but not in the way you'd think, usually their "shared quality time" with you involves Trey doing all the actual pussy pounding and Cater off to the side or in a corner somewhere(taking a few pics and vids for later) at his own personal insistence. He'd rather enjoy the view and Trey knows how to get you worked up better anyways in his own words.

Riddle's favorite thing about you is your breasts, especially drinking from them. It's warm and comforting and he enjoys cuddling up close to your chest and suckling from you after sex more than he does the sex itself. He would die before he would admit that to you tho.

You didn't think Crowley would let the boys have all the fun without having his own fill from time to time did you? Sure he keeps you all more than taken care of and well fed out of the goodness of his heart but it gets so tiring and stressful sometimes. Surely you wouldn't mind keeping him "company" under his desks while he works would you?

Kalim thinks you're adorable! Your eyes are so pretty and your ears are so cute and soft to the touch, well his are too but yours are special cus they're yours! He just loves touching and licking and kissing you all over.

The Pome trio oh boy. Whether it's making out with Epel as he desperately gripes at your body while you're both pounded by Rook and Vil respectively or innocently taking Rook and Vil up on their offer to service you with a full body oil massage they've always got something that they thoroughly planned beforehand ready for you.

Idia's intense infatuation[read obsession] with you is more than enough to have him act out of character from time to time. He is unexpectedly blunt with you about all the almost grossly kinky things he'd like to do with you, or what he'd have you do to him in most cases. Unsurprisingly tho he loses most of his tack in the moment, poor boy gets so deliriously pussy drunk you'd think he's the one getting their guts rearranged.

Malleus is rather possessive, shocker I know. It would be delusional of him to think he could have you to himself in the traditional sense but he at very least likes to have you to himself in the heat of the moment so sharing you is completely off the table… with one exception. Lilia finds the love Malleus has for you cute and has inclined himself to join in on your endeavors once or twice. Bringing his hands to your chest from behind you to pinch and pull at your leaking nipples while you ride Malleus like your life depends on it. Whispering cheeky things into your ear before locking eyes with the large black pelted bull and urging him to pump you full of his seed and impregnate you with his calf. 

more

[ftmtftm]

I've been scrolling through your blog, and I saw your post about discussing the racialized nature of gender. As someone who has several transmasc POC friends, and someone who's a nonbinary POC themself, I wanted to give my 2 cents.

It's important to understand that "woman" in the "man vs woman" gender binary is a colonialist, white supremacist construct, especially in Western countries where you are the numerical minority. My trans friends aren't on T, they haven't gotten top surgery, we are all quite young. But they all have numerous stories about being addressed as "sir" which brings them euphoria but as one person said, while we were making fun of the amount of white people in our club, "Due to my race and skin color, I get masculinized."

And again I'd like to emphasize, that since we're young, none of us really have medically transitioned due to financial and familial barriers. Their hair is long, our binders we definitely have notable chests, and even if they dress masculine, it's notable that no one in our communities would ever gender us properly. It's often white people calling them "sir." Again, I think this reflects how gender performances in mainstream queer communities are deeply White. Like, trans boys talk about having haircuts, but only one of my friends has that wavier, more manageable hair that will help them pass. When you've got curly/kinky hair, the standards are different. For a white person, what's the difference between a "girl" Afro and a boy "Afro"? White cis people have a harder time identifying us, and literally talk to any black girl, and they'll tell you about being mocked, dehumanized, and called "manly".

I don't have much else to say. These are just my personal experiences. But if you want to be an ally to POC in the queer community, this is why it's so fucking important to bring in colonialism/imperialism/white supremacy into discussions of queer liberation. My biggest gripe with ignorant white queers is when they ignore their white privilege, and act like "cishets" (AKA the patriarchal system regulating sexuality and gender) is the only enemy. Because cishet POC deal with plenty of shit with being infantilized, masculinized, feminized, seen as brutish & dangerous, the list goes on. Doberbutts had a post saying, "Believe me, your family's going to care more about me being black than my queerness." towards his white partners. Acknowledging and creating a framework that centers these intersections of queerness and race into your beliefs is true allyship. This is why if you're not anti-imperialist, anti-capitalist, ACAB...I do not think you care for queer liberation. None of us are free until all of us are free.

Please don't view this post as an attack. But this is my perspective, and I thought you'd be receptive to me sharing my lived experiences.

Oh I absolutely don't view this ask as an attack, and I really appreciate you bringing these things up because you're right! Like, just very plainly: You are right and your and your friends lived experiences are extremely important to the conversation on the racialized aspects of gender.

It gets me thinking about where Misogynoir and the social White Fear of Black manhood intersect for Black trans men in particular. Because Black women and Women of Color in general are masculinized by White gender standards and the ways in which Black trans masculine people are gendered in alignment with their identity is absolutely not always done with gender affirming intent. In fact, it's often actually done with racist intent or is fueled by racist bias when it's coming from White people or even from non-Black POC.

That's kind of restating things you've said but differently, it's just such a topic worth highlighting explicitly since it's extremely relevant to the conversation that's been happening about Male Privilege here the last few days.

I do think I know exactly what @doberbutts post you're talking about and yeah. It's just truth. It's something Black queer people have been talking about for ages in both theory and in pop culture (my mind immediately goes to Kevin Abstract and "American Boyfriend") where Black queer/trans identity is both materially different from (neutral) and is treated differently from (negative) White queer/trans identity in multitudes of ways and those differences are worth sharing and exploring and talking about.

Genuinely, thank you for sharing! I try really hard not to lead these kinds of conversations outside of explicitly referencing back to non-White theorists because I don't particularly feel like it's my place to do so, but I will always provide a platform for them because they're extremely important conversations to be had.

[pb524830]

anyone else

part: 1 pairing: paige buckers x oc word count: 3k c/w: language a/n: hi guys! i've been meaning to write for paige and other wcbb players for quite a while, so here you go! this is going to be a pretty long slow-burn series, so be prepared for a torturous enemies to lovers arc. so excited to share this with you guys!

NOVEMBER 2021

The apartment is loud and crowded, music blasting so loud and bass thumping so intensely I can barely hear myself speak. Someone - I forget whose apartment it is - has set up cheap strobe lights that spill across the room and blind me every few seconds. I struggle to make my way over to Azzi Fudd, one of the freshmen who plays basketball here at UConn. We had met at the beginning of the year, when she had gotten stuck in my upper division government class before quickly getting switched out. We’d become fast friends over a love of Nutella and dogs, as well as being student-athletes, and we hang out whenever both our practice schedules allow for it.

That being said, she’s dragged me to a pregame at one of the men’s basketball player’s apartments. Initially, I told her no, but she pleaded and begged until I had no choice but to say yes. I emerge from the crowd with a huff, grabbing the drink in Azzi’s outstretched hand. “Vodka cran?” She asks. I smile and nod, taking it from her gratefully. I take a sip and grimace, spluttering. She grins sheepishly. “Sorry, more like just vodka.” I raise an eyebrow at her, taking another sip gingerly. “You tryna get me fucked up, Fudd?” I demand. She shrugs. “I’m thinking if I get you fucked up enough, you might actually come out with us.” I laugh. “Nice try. You know I have to study.”

Azzi rolls her eyes. “You’re always studying. Or you’re at volleyball practice. I never see you anymore,” she pouts. “Well, if you had stayed in that gov class…” She pushes me ever so slightly and I laugh, taking another swig of my heavily alcoholic drink. My laughter dies down when a familiar blonde-haired figure slings her arm around Azzi’s shoulders. “Avantika,” Paige nods curtly. I smile, a tight-lipped smile that barely passes as one. Azzi clears her throat. “Hi, Paige,” she greets her friend, looping an arm around her waist. “You need something?” Paige’s blue eyes are trained on me, slightly narrowed, and I cross my arms over my body defensively. Paige shakes her head, looking down at her friend. “Nah, just grabbing a drink.” Azzi perks up. “Dirty Shirley? I’ll make it for you!” I blink. “Az, respectfully, this is ass. I don’t know if you should be making drinks,” I tease, holding up my cup. She sticks her tongue out at me and turns to make Paige her drink. 

“What is that?” Paige asks, grabbing my cup from me. I protest, grabbing for it, but she holds it above her head. I’m a good 8 inches shorter than her, and it effectively keeps it out of my reach. 

“Problem?” She asks smugly. 

“Dude, just give it back,” I gripe. 

“Come get it,” she smirks down at me. “You’re such an asshole,” I spit, watching as she takes a swig of the drink and pulls a face. “Yeah, exactly,” I say as she hands it back to me, scoffing. 

“Paige, quit antagonizing Ava,” Azzi chides, handing her a drink. Paige makes a face at her. “Azzi, don’t use big words just to sound smart.” Azzi shoots her a look and I roll my eyes. “There’s no way you think ‘antagonizing’ is a big word,” I snark. 

“Why do you have to be such a smartass all the time?” Paige sneers, crowding my space. 

I step to her, meeting her gaze. “You better watch yourself,” I spit back. 

“Or what?” she counters, getting even closer.

Azzi makes a noise in her throat, something between a cough and a laugh. “Paige, this is why Ava never comes out with us,” she shakes her head. Paige’s eyes stay on mine, her mouth twisting into something between a smirk and a sneer. “No, I think it’s because she can’t handle her liquor,” she muses. Her eyelashes flare, challenging me. Forcing me into my own memories, ones of hands on my waist and lips on my neck and a night I’d much rather forget. I tear my gaze from hers. “You know what, Az? I will come out with y’all tonight,” I say, smiling sweetly at her and Paige. Paige raises an eyebrow. “Your funeral,” she shrugs. “Yeah, fuck you,” I say, tipping the remainder of my drink back into my throat and grabbing Azzi’s hand to lead her through the crowd, away from that blonde menace she calls a best friend. 

When Azzi and I had first become friends, and I had discovered she was on the basketball team, I was a little wary. Paige and I had… history, I guess one could call it. I quickly found out that she was actually best friends with Azzi, and I had avoided her like the plague. But the closer I became with Azzi, the more difficult it was not to be around Paige. 

I hate her, to be clear. She’s everything I despise. She’s irresponsible, loud, arrogant, immature, and a womanizer. If it were up to me, I’d have absolutely nothing to do with her. 

As it stands, it’s not up to me. I find myself in Caroline Ducharme’s car squished between her and Azzi. Paige drapes an arm across the seat behind me nonchalantly, leaning forward to talk to Caroline and Evina Westbrook. I roll my eyes, leaning forward so that I don’t touch her. She glances down at me. “I don’t bite,” she tells me. I narrow my eyes. “No, but I might,” I reply. She raises an eyebrow. “Move. Your. Arm,” I order. Paige looks taken aback, but slinks her arm out from behind me nonetheless.

Azzi nudges me with her elbow. “I think she might actually be scared of you,” she whispers. I sit back against the seat as the car starts with a rumble, smirking. “Good,” I say smugly. 

When we get to Ted’s, Paige makes a beeline for the bar, draping herself around a girl with curly hair who has beckoned her. I watch her whisper into the girl’s ear, grinning down at her as she gestures to the bartender for a drink. I scoff to myself. Ridiculous. 

Azzi links arms with me, snapping me out of my trance. “Avaaaa, let’s go dance!” She urges. I laugh, giving in and following her to the dance floor. I let myself get lost in the music and in between the girls, even letting Aubrey spin me around to ‘That’s What I Like’ by Bruno Mars. I dance for a bit with Nika, drunk enough from the pregame to giggle stupidly with her. Finally, feeling a tad sweaty and a lot exhausted, I stumble my way to the bar.

“One lemon drop please,” I tell the bartender, handing her my card. “Hey, can I buy you a drink?” It’s Emmett, one of the men’s basketball players. I smile at him, gesturing to the bartender handing me back my card. “Just bought one, sorry,” I tell him. “Ah, that’s okay,” he says, shrugging. “How about a little time on the dance floor?” he suggests. I open my mouth to respond, but before I can say anything, I hear a loud voice next to my ear. “Emmett, my man!” Paige saunters into my view, clearly drunk, and daps him up. “Yo, I think Hiem was calling for you over there,” she tells him, pitching her voice up over the music. Emmett glances over to the entrance, trailing off to go find his teammate. 

I narrow my eyes at her as she sluggishly takes the seat in front of me, rapping on the bar with her fist for another drink. “Maybe you should take a break,” I suggest, taking my own shot. “Maybe you should mind your own business,” she shoots back. I scoff. “Nahiem isn’t even here, is he?” I demand. She shrugs, swiveling in the stool to look at me, her blue eyes hazy. “No, you just looked like you needed saving.”

“I can handle myself, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“That was sarcasm. Don’t you have a girl to go whore around with?”

“If you can find me one.” Paige takes the drink the bartender hands her, sipping on it.

“Thought you had one the second we walked in.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Look who’s been paying attention. Jealous?”

I scoff, standing up. “Hardly.” She mimics my actions, drink in hand.

Suddenly, someone runs past, jostling Paige so that she stumbles towards me, her drink sloshing onto my white top - a beautiful, strappy, lacy little thing just low enough to show a bit of cleavage.

“Oh, my God-”

“Woah, I’m sorry, dude-”

“What the fuck is your problem?” I seethe.

Paige gapes at me. “My problem?” She demands.

I huff, grabbing for a napkin, but she beats me to it, dabbing at my chest. “Here, let me-”

I snatch it from her. “You know what, Paige? Just stay the fuck away from me, how about that?”

I turn and storm away from her, hearing her call after me. “Avantika!” I push through the crowd and out the door, feeling the freezing air hit me. Instantly, it sobers me up a little bit. I pull out my phone, tapping at it. I figure I can call an Uber and get myself home. “Avantika!” I hear Paige’s voice call behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut.

Paige jogs up to me. “Look, I’m sorry, it was an accident,” she huffs. “Fuck off, Bueckers,” I say, my voice tired and hoarse. “Why are you so mad at me?” She demands. “I’m not,” I say curtly. “Okay, well, you’ve been giving me nasty looks all night, and you know that what happened in there was an accident, so-”

“I don’t like you, Paige. Is that not clear enough? I don’t want anything to do with you,” I spit out, turning on my heel to face her. Her eyes flare, mouth twitching into a sneer. She crowds my space, towering over me. “Feeling’s fucking mutual,” she says lowly, her eyes hot on mine. “Good,” I say. “Good,” she retaliates.

“What are you guys doing out here?” Azzi stumbles towards us from the entrance of the bar, slurring her words together. Caroline rushes out after her, Aubrey in close pursuit. “Azzi!” Caroline calls. “Whoa, Az,” Paige says, running towards her best friend to help her, letting Azzi lean her weight onto her. “Is she okay?” I ask Aubrey, following Paige and jogging up to them. “Here, let’s get to the car, okay, Azzi?” I coax. “Ava!” She exclaims, falling into me, throwing her arms around me. 

I stumble back, feeling arms steady my shoulders as Azzi envelops me in a hug. “Awww, you came! I’m so glad you came, oh my gosh. You never come!” I smile over Azzi’s shoulder at Aubrey, gesturing for some help. “I know, babe, that’s why I came tonight. Now, let’s get you home, okay?” I urge. Nika also finds her way out of the bar, and runs over to help Azzi off of me. I turn to thank the person who steadied my shoulders, and flinch away when I realize it’s Paige. She pulls her hands away from me like I’ve burned her. “Sorry,” she mumbles. I don’t respond, choosing instead to help Azzi towards Caroline’s car.

The ride home is silent except for Azzi’s occasional babbling. I frown. I didn’t think she would drink this much. We all haul her up the stairs, her tall figure dead weight under her drunkenness. “Azzi, come on. Let’s get you to bed,” Paige tells her. “Let’s get that makeup off, yeah?” I say, opening the door to Azzi’s apartment and letting Caroline and Paige deposit her on the couch. Paige gives the rest of the girls a thumbs up, and they file out of the apartment, leaving her and I to deal with an extremely inebriated Azzi Fudd. 

Paige sighs. “You grab her arms, I got her legs?” I nod, getting to work. With a lot of grunting and groaning, we manage to get Azzi to her bed, sitting her up against the wall. “Just a minute, baby, we have to take your makeup off, okay?” I soothe. Azzi whines, hitting at my arm when I go in with a makeup wipe. “I know, just a second,” I whisper, wiping at her face. She pulls me in for a hug, squeezing tight. “Ohmigosh, Avaaa! You’re here!” She squeals tiredly. “I am,” I reply, but my words are muffled by her arm around my face. “Okay, Az, let Avantika go now,” Paige says. Azzi reluctantly lets me go, and when Paige helps me off of the bed, I stumble into her. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, setting me straight. I hum in return, glancing into her clear blue eyes, and immediately regretting it. I’m forced to reconcile with the fact that she does have very pretty eyes. She clears her throat, giving me some space. “You think you got her handled?” I breathe, glancing back at Azzi. Paige hesitates. “I just…” I nod. “I’ll stay.” She breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks.” “Yeah,” I whisper, taking a seat next to Azzi on the bed. Paige settles herself against the wall, seated on the floor. 

It’s silent for a few moments. “I really am sorry, by the way. About your top,” Paige pipes up suddenly. Her knees are bent, her head tipped back against the wall, jawline prominent. “It’s fine,” I murmur back, leaning back into Azzi’s pillows. The dark haired girl next to me lets out a snore. “That top looked good on you.” “Paige,” I warn. “Just being nice,” she defends quickly. 

“You’re never nice to me. Don’t start now,” I sigh, tipping my own head back and closing my eyes. Paige is silent again. “You really hate me that much?” She asks quietly. That’s it. My eyes snap open and I swing my legs off the bed. “I think you’ve got it from here,” I say shortly. She leaps to her feet, holding her hands out to stop me as I try to leave. 

“Avantika, hang on,” she tries. 

“We’re not having this conversation. You’re drunk and I’m drunk-”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Please, just stay,” she pleads.

“Paige.”

“Ava.”

“Do not call me that,” I snap.

Paige looks startled. She opens her mouth to argue, but I shove past her, storming out the door. 

SEPTEMBER 2020

I collapse on the floor of the volleyball practice gym, glaring at the ceiling after two hours of serve and receive practice. My teammate and roommate Audrey launches a downball at me, and I roll to the side, too exhausted to dig it. “You shag this time?” She asks. I nod, affirming that I’ll gather the balls and put them back on the racks or in carts. I hear Audrey’s shoes squeak against the linoleum as she jogs out of the gym and to the showers in the locker room.

I stare up at the ceiling, absentmindedly reviewing all the assignments I need to complete tonight. There’s that calculus problem set, and I should probably start on the biochem lab…

“Yo, you good?” A voice calls from behind me. It’s familiar, but I can’t quite place it. I sit up, facing the door to the gym and the person who’s speaking. My breath catches in my throat. That blonde hair and those blue eyes - anyone on the UConn campus would recognize her. It’s Paige Bueckers, the freshman phenom.

“Uh, yeah,” I answer, quickly getting to my feet and dusting myself off. “Hard practice, huh?” She asks, taking note of my UConn practice gear. “Yeah, something like that,” I chuckle, reaching for balls to put away. “Here, let me help,” Paige offers, setting her basketball down and jogging over. “You don’t have to!” I call, but she waves me off. Quietly, we gather the rest of the balls, “Scorpion” by Drake on shuffle in the background. 

“Who’s on aux?” She asks, depositing the last ball into a red cart.

 “Oh, I am. Sorry, I’m just leaving.” 

“No, I like it. It’s one of my favorite albums of his.” I pause. 

“Mine, too.” I gesture to the ball on the floor next to her feet. “How come you’re shooting in here?” I ask. 

She picks the ball up, tossing it back and forth, spinning it between her hands. “Just, uh… Werth gets really intimidating. You know, all the greats on the walls behind you, and then everywhere you walk it’s like ‘national championship!’ Feels like a lot of pressure sometimes.” 

I laugh, nodding at her words. “Yeah, I could see that.” 

She shakes her head, beginning to dribble the ball. I watch her nimble fingers work, her blonde hair thrown up in a messy bun, strands coming out to dangle in her face. “Sorry, totally just dumped on you,” she says suddenly, stopping her motions and holding the ball in her hands. “What’s your name?”

“Avantika,” I reply, smiling. She grins at me. “Pretty name for a pretty girl,” she muses, approaching me. I raise an eyebrow, biting back another smile. “Does that normally work for you?” I ask. She shakes her head, smirking down at me. “No, but this does.”

She sticks her hand out towards me so that I can shake it. “Hi. I’m Paige Bueckers.”

[chaotic-mystery]

Code Red | Chapter Seven: I Love Older Men

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader (no outbreak)

summary: Your big date with Joel is finally here and you end the night on a good note, or a good feeling perhaps.

content warnings: SMUT, 18+ only blog MDNI. Enemies to lovers, dads best friend Joel, age gap (readers in her twenties and Joel is in his 40s), slow burn, first date jitters, reader has hair Joel can brush from her face, no other descriptors, Joel puts reader on the dining table, finally getting some smut, eh? oral sex (f receiving bc he's a ladies man), orgasm denial until you agree with him, power imbalance, dirty talk, thigh smacking, biting, a few sips of beer but no one is buzzed, horny overload, cum eating if you use a monocle, pulling Joel's hair and riding his face/nose, slight PDA, a tiny easter egg if you find it, and one (1) sleepover. NO use of Y/N! Let me know if I've missed something!

authors note: Hi, I love you first off for keeping up with this and my life when it gets crazy and I dip for a little. Thank you for all the support on Code Red, it means the world to me. This can be read as a stand alone if you're unfamiliar with the series but it'll make more sense reading it in order || wc: 4K || notif blog so you don't miss a thing ||

“Why do you have to wear that shirt?” Joel asks as your front door swings open, his hand pushed against the door jam to prop him up. 

You giggle and look down at the bedazzled shirt that was tight enough to push your tits together nicely. It came as no surprise to you that Joel didn’t like the words printed on it and covered in rhinestones. ‘I Love Older Men’ twinkles in the sunlight as Joel swings open your front door, already taking your house key to lock the door behind you. 

“It’s not funny, you’re gonna draw attention to us.” He gripes, putting a hand on your hip behind you as you sit down. His attitude was already starting to get on your nerves but you refuse to let him ruin this, especially over a shirt. 

“Hey! Enough, it’s just a shirt. Is it really such a bad thing if people look at us?” You ask, dipping your head down to look at him. 

Joel meets your eyes and licks his lips while thinking about what to say. You cup his cheek and raise your eyebrows at him playfully. 

“No, I just-” He starts and you cover his mouth quickly to cut him off. Joel gets the hint and rolls his eyes at you before closing the door shut and getting in on his side of the truck. He starts the engine and puts his hand on the back of your headrest to back out of his driveway, open palm against the steering wheel turning it quickly. 

His cologne smells warm and spicy, with a tad of amber mixed in there which surprises you for someone like him, not seeming like he’d be into expensive cologne.  Absolutely captivating, the way he does everything so effortlessly and somehow makes you want to bury your face in his chest while he talks for hours and hours. Joel turns forward and starts the long drive ahead of you two. You were unsure where your date actually was, Joel wanted to keep it a surprise from the last time you spoke about it, which you didn’t mind in the slightest. 

Joel looks over a couple of times and leans his arm against the door while he steers the wheel. 

“You gonna stay over there the whole time or you wanna sit in the middle?” He asks, almost waiting for you to laugh and tell him no. You fight back a smirk and sigh dramatically before sliding over into the middle seat right next to him. 

“Better?”

“For now.” Joel responds and his tongue lingers over his bottom lip for a split second before disappearing into his mouth again. 

“Where are we going? Please don’t tell me you’re taking me to Home Depot…Joel are you taking us to Home Depot?” You half whine and look up at him with your hand resting on his knee. 

“Now why on earth would you think I'd take you there for our date? Give me a little more credit, would ya? Just sit back and enjoy the ride please?” His arm tightens around your shoulders and pulls you into him more. You giggle at his growing annoyance and put your sunglasses on as you rest your head back, looking out the window watching the telephone poles whiz by. 

One of the few times you ever felt this calm and relaxed was with Joel or when you’re alone. He makes it so easy to forget all of the stress and the issues constantly circling your brain about your dad, the future of not knowing, everything that bothers you. None of it ever seems that important when you’re with Joel. 

You two hum to the radio and talk here and there, mainly enjoying the comfortable silence you shared. He turns right and the sign for the aquarium starts to get closer. 

“You remembered the aquarium? Oh my god, Joel!” You exclaim and sit straight up to see the view better. Your excitement was too much for you to notice Joel taking glances at you with the biggest smile on your face. It was apparent to him you thought he forgot about the aquarium comment you made months ago. Little did you know he bought tickets as soon as you mentioned it that day. Even if you went just as the weird friend dynamic you briefly were, Joel still would’ve loved it no matter how much he would’ve pretended not to, no matter how much he wants to deny it.

He pulls into the parking lot and finds a parking spot a little far away from the doors but neither one of you mind. With your purse on your arm, you climb out of his truck and stand in front of it while you wait impatiently for him to get out. 

“You ready?” He asks, coming up right next to you. His finger hooks under your chin and brushes his thumb down softly as he gives you a smile. 

“Absolutely.” You respond back.

You two start towards the door, his arm brushing against you every time he gets close. Every time you feel his pinky touch your hand, you want to just reach out and hold his hand. Joel being the brooding older man, he’s not too big on PDA. You were the exact opposite. You wanted the whole entire town to know you were dating Joel Miller, you wanted to hold his hand while you wore your silly little shirt and have everyone stare at you both, like they could even begin to know the situation. 

When you get inside and turn in your tickets, Joel watches the glimmer in your eyes sparkle as you take in everything around you. The tanks full to the brim with fish and coral, touch tanks tucked back behind the glass and metal staircase leading upstairs, the glowing hallway leading to so much more, the gift shop you were definitely going to stop in before leaving. In awe at the artwork covering almost every inch of wallspace, you were mesmerized. Two children run in front of you and scream wildly as they chase each other, causing Joel to grab your hand instinctively and pull you out of the way before someone gets stepped on. 

You look down and his fingers interlock with yours and neither of you say a word or pull away. 

“Where to first, baby?”

-

Hours pass and your feet are starting to hurt but you’re having too much of a good time to admit to Joel he was right about your shoe choice being awful. It was absolutely worth the pain though, walking the entire aquarium to get the full experience. Joel didn’t complain once no matter how many times you got weird looks for your shirt. He’d walk up to the dolphin tank and put his on the glass, the same glimmer in your eye from when you arrived was the same one he had.  You two end up in front of the jellyfish tank  that went up to the ceiling with glass, blobs of pink and orange jellyfish floating up and down all over the tank. Joel takes a seat on the bench in front and leans his arms against his thighs as he watches closely. 

You sit next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, admiring the pink jellyfish at the very top that keeps sinking to the bottom just to go straight back up. 

“Did you have a fun time?” Joel asks.

You don’t answer right away to not seem eager. “Yeah, this was a lot of fun. Never a dull moment with you though.” You giggle quietly as you remember earlier when he made someone’s child cry because Joel apparently “took the stingray” the child was touching and it decided to swim to Joel’s hand you forced into the touch tank. You’ve never seen him move so fast until that moment.

Joel chuckles with you as he knows exactly what you’re thinking about. 

“I told you not to make me do it and you see what you did? You made someone's child cry, they’re never gonna come back here now.” Joel can’t finish his sentence because you both are laughing so hard and he leans his head on yours. 

There wasn’t that need to fill the silence with Joel. You could sit there with him for hours and not share a word and still be comfortable, that’s not something you come by everyday. 

“Well, you wanna stop in the gift shop before we go?” Joel questions as he picks his head up off yours. 

“Yeah! I wanna see what stupid thing I can convince you to buy me.” You jump up and step towards the tank a few times, turning around to look at Joel. 

He rises to his feet and walks towards you slowly, head cocked back slightly. The look he’s giving you makes your heart start to race and you can feel your cheeks getting warm with every step closer he gets to you. Somehow you managed to be the only two people in the jellyfish exhibit and you were thanking your lucky stars for this. 

“Convince me, huh? Convince me how, baby?” His mocking tone sets your body on fire and you suddenly can’t speak. 

Joel gets right in front of you and tucks his hand against your cheek, his long fingers brushing softly on the skin right below your ear. 

“You don’t have to convince me to do anything, sweetheart. I’d do anything you want.”  He kisses your lips gently.

“I’d buy you anything you want.” He kisses your jaw.

“I’d build you anything you want.” He kisses your neck softly. 

You would’ve fallen to your knees had he not pulled away and chuckled at you, seeing how pathetic he made you for him so fast. 

“Fuck off, Joel.” You try to play it off like you weren’t going to risk it all had he kept going. 

He takes your hand once more and walks with you to the gift shop, his hand hardly leaving your waist as you meander around the store.

Torn between the pack of pens with different aquatic animals on the top and a turtle shaped beanie, you asked Joel which one you should get. 

Joel turns around from the little container of pins he was looking at and takes a good glance at the options. 

“What about this?” He holds up the metal pin that has a starfish printed on the center, with big ugly yellow letters that say, ‘I’m a star!’. 

You blink once at him and turn back around to hide your laugh. 

“That’s so goddamn stupid, Joel. I’d hate to be called a starfish.” You put the hat back and just as you look up, you see it. The stupid thing you want Joel to get you. 

Yanking the clownfish plush off the shelf, you grin widely and turn back around to him and shake it in his face.

“This, this is it. Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” You look back down at the stuffed animal, admiring all the details on it. Without missing a beat, Joel doesn’t look away from you and nods. “Yeah, it is.” 

-

On the drive home you stopped for food and ate in the parking lot while Joel gave you his typical old man history recap of all things Austin, Texas while you nodded like you were following the entire time. You caught most of it, but some stuff you were lost about and you didn’t have the heart to make him explain. Nodding and smiling usually did the trick.

Joel pulls into his driveway and stops right next to the little light pole on your side so you can see where you’re walking. Joel gets out after turning it off  and walks around the front of the truck to meet you halfway. With an arm stretched out towards you, he grabs it and holds it there for a moment. 

“Do you wanna maybe, um…see the new curtains I put up the other day?”

Your brows furrow and you can feel a laugh building up inside. 

“W-what? Are you inviting me in to look at your curtains?” You have to make sure you heard him correctly. This seems like Joel’s way of getting you inside but he won’t explicitly say it. He needs an innocent excuse to get you inside before he makes his move. 

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly and turns away causing his bicep to come into the light and grab your eyes. 

“Yeah, I am.” He refuses to elaborate or change his question to the truth, curtains is what he’s sticking with. 

“Well let’s go, Mr. Miller.” you reach up and pat his chest before heading towards his front door. 

“C’mon, you know I hate when you call me that.”

“I know, that’s why I love it.” 

He stands close enough behind you that you can feel his chest on your back while he unlocks the front door.

“Such a brat.”

The door swings wide open and you’re hit with the familiar smell that is Joel. The cologne with the faint scent of laundry detergent and somewhere a reed diffuser sitting neatly on a table. You take in all of the photos on the walls of him and Sarah, the home looking lived in and not empty. This is what you’ve been waiting on ever since you moved in. You wanted to see inside this house so badly. To see the room you’d constantly look down to when you couldn’t sleep and needed someone but he wasn’t awake. To see the room where you could hear every argument he had with Michelle over you. 

“Everything you thought it’d be in here?” Joel questions and walks from behind you to the stainless steel fridge in the next room over as you stand in the doorway of the living room. 

“It’s so cozy in here, I didn’t think it would be. Figured you’d have a lawn chair in here with a fold up table or something.” You joke and turn around with your arms crossed over your chest. 

Joel looks at you with a fake disappointed face and closes the fridge before grabbing the two beers off the counter he got out. 

“Don’t be a smartass, or I’ll have to fix that for you.” Joel states firmly, standing right next to you.”

With your breath caught in your throat, you take the beer from his hand hesitantly and think about whether or not you should say what you’re thinking. Fuck it though, right?

“Fix it how, Mr. Miller?” The playful tone in your voice makes Joel turn slowly towards you and sucks his teeth quickly before setting his beer down on the coffee table to the left of him. 

“What’d I say about calling me that. You just love to push my buttons don’t you? Gets you off knowing you’ve annoyed me for the day, huh?” 

You take another sip of your beer and smirk against the bottle. 

“Yeah, I do.” You answer confidently.

Joel’s strong arms wrap around you and tug you close against him which causes you both to grunt and he holds you there, his face inches away from yours. 

“And what if I told you every time you do that you make me wanna bend you over and have my way with you until you say you’re sorry?” 

There it is. 

You shutter a breath and meet his eyes which don’t seem so brown anymore. They’re dark with lust and it’s the one thing you’ve been wanting to see from him. 

“Doubt it, I don’t think you can break me.” 

Your lips ghost over his before they crash together and he groans in your mouth instantly as he picks you up for just a moment and walks you over to the dining room, setting you at the end of the table. You swing your legs as he steps back and admires how you look with the dim lighting around you. 

“You would want that, of course. Should’ve known you’re a dirty girl. Tell me how you want me, baby.” He leans in and holds the back of your neck as he trails kisses along your jaw and throat, trying to make you respond. 

The harsh but passionate kisses cloud your mind and you can’t answer fast enough. 

“Tell me pretty girl, tell me how I can make you feel so good and have you right where I want you.” 

God, you need him so badly. 

“I-I like it rough. Manhandle me but still make me feel wanted, like you can’t get enough of me.” 

Your answer coaxes out a groan from Joel and you can’t help but smirk. 

“Oh is that so? You want me to toss you around, maybe pin you down right here and give you that attitude adjustment I’ve been wanting to give you since I saw you on your dads porch?” Joel did one thing well, and it’s being condescending. 

He lays you down on the wooden table and pulls his hand out from the back of your neck and down the middle of your breasts slowly, all the way to the top of your pants. A scoff comes from his mouth and he tugs on the belt loop near your button. 

“‘I love older men’...so fuckin’ naughty. Have you ever been with one or are you just talkin’ a big game?” 

Joel undoes the button on your pants and wiggles his thick pointer finger inside the waistband of your panties, smoothing over your skin teasingly.

“N-no, I haven’t been with one yet.”

“Perfect. Now, take these off.” He yanks on your pants and stands still between your legs while you lift your hips up to shimmy them off. Halfway down your legs he grows impatient and shucks them off you, tossing them onto the floor. Joel kneels down and his face is dangerously close to your aching cunt. 

“Joel, please- I need you…I need you so damn bad.” You whine, grabbing at his hand that’s holding your waist. 

“You need me to what, baby? Use your words, I know you can do it.” He mocks. 

Colored embarrassed that he was wanting you to explicitly say you want him to eat your pussy was an understatement. You didn’t mind a challenge. 

“I want you to lick my pussy, Joel. I wanna feel your tongue on me and make me scream because you do it so well.” As soon as the words leave your lips, his tongue is licking at your wet panties. Tasting every bit of excitement he got from you until you whimper for him to do more. 

“You want me to show you what I can do, pretty girl?” 

Joel doesn’t wait for your answer and he grabs your hand, hooking your panties on your fingers to have you hold them to the side.

“Be a good girl and hold these for me, yeah?” 

You nod in response and close your eyes just in time for his warm tongue to flatten against your clit. His moans muffle against your folds as his hands grip your hips harder, pulling you close to his face as he laps at your soaking pussy. Quick and rough flicks from his tongue go against your clit and you can already feel your legs shake. Your back arches off the table and instantly your hand goes in his hair, gripping the salt and pepper little curls tightly. 

“Ohhh my-fucking god, Joellll!” You cry out and his right hand leaves your hip to the middle of your torso to pin you back down. 

“Stay still.” He commands and buries his face between your thighs, his beautiful nose bumping your 

clit. Your eyes begin to roll back into your skull and he groans louder the harder he licks at you, tasting every inch of skin he can get his mouth on. Joel rubs his thumb over your clit as he bites your thighs and follows with a soft slap to see how far he can push you. 

“Y-yes oh keep doing that, baby.” You whine and buck your hips to get more friction against his thumb. 

“So eager for me to make you come, darlin. God you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.” Joel growls out and takes his thumb off you for a moment and your eyes shoot open to see where the release you were needing, had gone. He admires the glistening slick coating his skin and licks it clean before connecting his tongue with your clit once more. 

“Say yes and I’ll let you come, okay?” Joel groans between licks and looks you in the eyes. 

You sit up more to look at him with a confused look on your face. 

“Say yes to w-what?” 

“Come work for me at my shop. Be my receptionist so I can see you all the time. I can’t fucking be apart from you all day anymore.” His licks get more passionate and fast, consistent against your overworked clit and you feel the pressure starting to build in the pit of your stomach. 

“What? Y-you want me-fuccck-to work with you?” you barely whimper out as you begin to pant and grind against his face.

Why did he want to bring this up right now? Was he afraid you’d say no so he waited until he had you in the palm of his hand to ask? Jokes on him, you wouldn’t have turned that down at all, anything to see him more than you were now, and you’d be getting paid to fuck off all day with him?

“Say yes.” He grunts and keeps going, pushing you to the edge of your orgasm. 

Your eyes close and your head falls back, moaning with every lick and every move of your hips you make against him. 

“Yes yes yes yes yes okay I will.” You squeak out and you come on his face, riding his tongue as you end up spacing out from the euphoric high. Never has a man ever made your ears ring from coming, until tonight. 

Joel gives your pussy sensual kisses before he trails them up your stomach until he gets to your lips. You kiss him eagerly and taste yourself on his tongue, already wanting more. 

“So I’ll see you there, Monday morning at 10 a.m..” He chuckles and kisses you a few more times before standing straight up and admiring the work he did on you. 

All spread out on the dining room table wasn’t how you saw tonight ending, but you got so much from today. A great date and a job, and head? You were a winner today. 

He grabs your hand and helps you up slowly, adjusting your panties the way he found them. You smile at him and look around for your jeans, groaning at the thought of putting them back on. 

“Hold on, stay there.” Joel says and he disappears around the corner to another room. He comes back with a pair of basketball shorts and hands them to you. 

“Here, put these on, baby.”  

Fresh warm shorts from the dryer. What a fucking gentleman. You put them on and get a chill immediately from how warm they are. 

“Can we watch a movie before I go home maybe?” You ask, not ready to leave his house quite yet. Joel nods and sits on the couch and you follow suit, cuddling yourself into his side. He finds something to watch on a streaming service and kisses your forehead. 

“Don’t fall asleep now, I can’t carry you to your house.” He jokes and you elbow his side playfully. 

Soon the TV sound was getting quieter and quieter as your eyes got heavy, until you were completely passed out in Joel’s arms, with him dozing off himself. Trying to fight his sleep to stay awake, he only lasts about ten more minutes before he grabs a blanket from the chair, covering you both up to sleep. 

[spockandstars]

I think that a lot of people take issue with the way the Spock/Chapel/T'Pring love triangle is presented in Strange New Worlds, but that sometimes this is dismissed as fans just being bitter spirk shippers. So here are a few reasons why I believe people are iffy on this plotline. (Disregarding the fact that we're disappointed that the showrunners didn't, and most likely won't, take the chance to do something really cool with Spock's legacy as a queer coded character...)

Firstly, it takes time away from other characters to address an element of Spock's story that has already been explored beautifully. (I will get into how this treats Chapel and T'Pring later...) Spock's struggle with his humanity and his anguish over the depth of his feelings for others (particularly Jim) is a focus in TOS and the movies, and if you're going to keep on talking about it, at least do it in a more creative way? This isn't to say that it shouldn't be acknowledged at all, seeing that it is a lifelong struggle for him, but by making it such a focus of the series they're not giving other interesting characters as much of a chance to develop.

Additionally, it has traditionally been understood that Spock coped with his inner turmoil by repressing his feelings. Over the course of his lifetime, he learns to embrace his human side more to become a more balanced and healthy person. SNW takes the approach of "young Spock was more human and horny!" which isn't necessarily bad, but they better be giving us an explanation for how he transforms so dramatically to the extremely repressed character he is in TOS. Maybe this is reaching too far, but this whole approach of young Spock just feels like an excuse to get hot ladies into his bed and to fulfill the fantasies of nerdy men who project onto him. This is the same Spock who scoffed at the idea of going to see dancers at a bar, who was immune to the charms of the sexy ladies in Mudd's Women, who only entertained women when drugged or when he needed to do so for a mission...

Furthermore, I believe it's a disservice to Chapel. On one hand, it does make her love for Spock seem more grounded in reality, which I appreciate. In TOS, it's pretty clear that Spock doesn't share her feelings and her crush is only really ever used as a means of ridiculing her. There goes silly Chapel again, trying to win over her unrequited love! It's not cool. But on the same token, making Spock the focus of her character yet again only further reduces her to nothing but that. Why can't we let the girl breathe and do other stuff? Sure, she does get some of the AOS Uhura treatment where she gets to be a generic cool badass lady, but this is in a way that is lacking in any real depth. Chapel deserves better.

I also don't love the way it treats T'Pring. Was it really necessary for her to be Spock's eye candy wife that he gets to bang and cheat on? In Amok Time, it's heavily implied that this was an arranged thing and that they hadn't seen each other since they were seven. If they really felt the need to include this relationship, it would have been so much cooler if they had explored it from that angle, with neither of them truly wanting to be together but being forced into it by societal expectation. Which of course, results in T'Pring using her intelligence to gain her freedom in Amok Time.

So yeah. Those are my main gripes with this whole thing. Overall, I think it's lazy writing that allows the writers to benefit from the nostalgia of legacy characters without developing them in actually meaningful or revolutionary ways.

[friendlybowlofsoup]

Another Update

Hello Friends,

I have a rather long (but optimistic!) update to share with you all today. As many of you are probably tired of reading these kind of posts, I have a TL;DR here, but I did want to share what has been on my mind in that past half-year that I haven't been here.

It has been rough, and busy as always, but I think I'm finally facing myself and my project for the first time in a very long time.

TL;DR (it's actually long, I have a lot to say (*_ _)人)

I soul-searched and decided to stop compromising on my own feelings with regards to this project. I gave in to everything I wanted to do.

Plot changes, which means some character changes, which means some of the demo is outdated.

GotRM will be switching over to Twine.

----

OH MAN DID I SUFFER THE LAST FEW MONTHS

After my previous update, I hunkered down and really analyzed how I wanted to proceed with GotRM as a project. Because even prior to that post, I had already been going through long periods of hiatuses (which you are all aware of), and while I didn't lie about school taking up my time, I was also harboring a growing dissatisfaction with my own writing that really killed my progress for a long time.

So after everything had settled, I sat down and forced myself to peel apart my work. I know I said I would answer asks, but I uninstalled all of my social media and put aside this blog to focus. I made a note of all the things I liked and didn't like, and I made a list of things I wanted to change or improve on. The biggest point was that I also looked at my efficiency during actual writing sessions: how much of my time was spent writing vs. fighting with code? How could I change that?

And after a lot of deliberation, I figured there were a few things I had to change from the ground up, summed up in four points:

My working style was super incompatible with grad school. I can't spend 20-30 minutes scrolling up and down CSIDE checking code or looking for narratives while also jumping between chapters to make sure events line up. As this story grows, the more difficult it becomes to keep track of all the branches, so I needed an alternative working method, which I am adhering to now, and it prioritizes efficiency.

I hated the way I was tracking and coding stats in-game. I have griped so much about coding stats, and I have adhered to such a rigid style that I really felt trapped whenever I was confronted with balancing them out. So I'm throwing that to the wind and redoing how I utilize and convey them. Player-side, this decision doesn't change much since I never fully utilized stats in the demo anyway, and the stats page with indicators will still exist, but I'm getting rid of stat bars and how I treat stat checks.

The story I want to write now is different from the one I started out with. I've known for a while that GotRM was becoming far more than the tiny, wishful novella that I wrote as a teenager. I held onto that old story for a long time, but there's just so much I want to change that I realized I'd been clinging to a story I no longer enjoyed writing. So I spent the majority of the last few months rewriting GotRM from scratch. I redid some worldbuilding, I changed a lot of plot points, and I fixed a lot of characters' backstories accordingly. This meant scrapping stuff from even the demo, but that turned out to not be the biggest issue because:

I wanted to branch away from ChoiceScript. Honestly, I never really cared about getting officially published, but the camaraderie in the forums and on Tumblr were why I committed to CS and CoG. However, ultimately, I really want the functionality that other tools can offer GotRM, and so after a long internal debate, I will be switching over to Twine. Fortunately, since I was rewriting everything anyways, this has been relatively painless, and passage mapping has made everything so much neater. I am trying my best to make it up to chapter 2 before I release the new demo, so please look forwards to that!

And so yes, I am still here, chugging along.

I love this game and this story: it's been my creative escape for as long as I could remember, and you can imagine how frustrated I was when I realized I was starting to dread working on it.

I am forever learning more about myself and my writing style, and this is simply more of that journey. Thank you everyone for sticking around, for joining the discord, and for checking up on me--that I have all of you has truly been a dream.

Hopefully more updates to come soon! I understand that there may be questions about these new changes, so please ask away! I will (try) to release some asks that I've been working on in the drafts too, but I will wait until at least tomorrow to release them so that this post doesn't get drowned out immediately.

And as always, with a lot of love,

FriendlyBowlofSoup (Mei)

[lu-dao-writes]

— 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭 (𝘼𝙞𝙨 & 𝙇𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧)

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 Don’t go touching random plants.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) Sex pollen, threesome, skull fucking, riding, dom Ais, needy Leander, gn!Reader.

𝘼/𝙉 Someone asked and I’m glad I was able to deliver lol. I’m giggling at this. But eat up and MINORS DNI!

Hopefully I didn’t write these two too badly!

It was only meant to be a hunt for herbs…

You and Leander had spotted Ais leaving Kuras’ clinic and the gang leader said he was grabbing some herbs the good doctor needed.

You offered a helping hand, and Leander had too much free time on his hands and happily tagged along.

“Alright, Sparrow, why don’t you look for sage. Let’s see how much you know,” Ais assigned to you with a simper.

“Sounds easy enough! I know what that looks like!” you reply confidently, striding off.

“And what about me?” Leander asks with his standard charming smile.

Ais flashes his teeth, looking at the Bloodhound leader with a raised brow. “Are you even familiar with herbs?”

“I’m a mage, Ais, of course I have some knowledge,” Leander says confidently, not bothered by the mocking.

“Fine. Fetch me valerian, echinacea, and clotsfoot,” Ais orders before walking off. He’s in charge of getting thyme, lavender, yarrow, and digitalis purpurea (the flower that reminds him of Vere).

You didn’t have to hunt long for the sage, picking enough for Kuras to have when suddenly an inviting smell comes to your nose.

It smelt of… Chocolate? Now that’s something new. You venture further, following the delightful scent until you come across pulsating, blue flowers all clustered together.

Now this was something! Flowers that smell like a sweet treat sounds wonderful! They’re so beautiful, and with each step you take the flowers seem to sway, as if dancing…

You get down on one knee and reach out to gently touch one of petals, soon leaning down to smell the flower a little more when there’s a sudden shout.

“Sparrow, get away from those!”

You flinch back and see Ais sprinting towards you.

“Wait why?!” you squawk, getting up, but it’s too late. Suddenly the flowers shoot out large streams of gas, your surroundings soon getting hazy.

And just your luck you trip.

“Shit!” Ais curses, diving into to get you.

You grip onto him but something seems to have your ankles hostage? You’re accidentally falling once more and taking Ais down with you.

“Leander, where the fuck are you?!” Ais barks out, trying to once again get you and now himself up off the ground.

Leander’s muscled form soon breaks in and he sends a blast of magic just a few spaces behind you both, burning the flowers to a crisp, and creepily enough you hear them actually screaming.

He hauls you and Ais further away before sending another blast of magic, not stopping until all the flowers are gone. Soon the fog slowly dissipates and bits of glowing green fire cling to the other flora, the fire soon dying as well.

“Shit,” Ais curses again, his chest heaving. He looks at you and your hardly able to stand, your eyes rapidly blinking.

Your skin feels tingly and you feel extremely flushed, your legs almost feeling numb.

“Yeah.. We better hurry somewhere other than here,” Leander mutters, his face red with blush.

“What… The hell was that?” you pant.

“That, Sparrow, was flower you most definitely shouldn’t have touched,” Ais huffs.

“Well no shit, Ais!” you gripe. “But are we gonna die!?”

“No,” replies both men.

“Those flowers are a natural aphrodisiac, but they’re very dangerous, especially if you don’t get rid of them,” Leander supplies with a nervous smile.

You blink once. Twice. “You’re fucking kidding?”

“‘Fraid not,” Ais mumbles.

And you’re not clueless to what that entails.

And that’s how you end up in this position.

Ais gripping your head as he drills his thick cock into your throat, his red eyes clouded with lust as he stares straight into your soul.

And Leander has your hips in a death grip as he braces his legs and fucks up into you desperately, lost in his own pleasure and the haze and greedily enjoying your warmth as you squeeze the life out his poor aching cock.

He’s whining and moaning about how good you feel, greedy fucker having cummed so many times in you already while Ais has only came once down your throat.

But not to worry, you’ve cummed too, Leander touching you and his cock hitting the right spot. It has you seeing stars.

Ais soon grunts and pulls out from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting from your lips to his dick. His thumb resting on your bottom lip as he fists his cock rapidly. “Keep your pretty mouth open, Sparrow.”

And oh, he moans and groans so prettily as he cums, his head slightly thrown back.

Your tongue hangs out to catch some of the thick, white ropes that spurt from the angry red tip of his cock, the rest splattering on your face and some even in your hair, but you couldn’t care less.

Leander moans loudly, busting another load into you, and he has enough stamina to help you finish as well, your body shuddering and your hole squeezing him again, causing him to drool a little with tears clinging to his lashes.

Poor Kuras won’t be getting those herbs anytime soon…

[patricia-taxxon]

heya! i just rewatched your sc2020 video…again… and then found out you're on tumblr and, of course, immediately went to look if you've posted anything about sj aswell and found that post from *checks notes* 1.5 months ago - so, i guess what im here to ask is, would you mind elaborating on that?

im unfamiliar with marble blast (im so sorry i do not have the brainpower to watch your essay on that...yet) so the comparison you make is not particularly useful to me :v

also for context, i did contribute to sj, specifically playtesting and programming, so i do have Opinions™ (that im gonna keep to myself due to lack of anon ask (not a bad thing! i understand why you have it off)) and i wonder if those happen to bleed through to the player experience or if your gripes with it are something different entirely.

well, firstly, i have developed such a deep seated hatred of the celeste community that i haven't opened the game in months and i've considered just deleting my spring collab video multiple times, I'm not finishing any more of my maps because I don't want to make anything for these people. so i didn't actually finish SJ, I did everything up to & including the easy half of the grandmaster lobby though, and my take is that even with the few miracles I found within the map list, it would not have inspired a video essay on the level of the spring collab one if I'd played it first. it's just not as interesting, and not as rewarding to study. it represents a horrible misattribution of priorities that permeates the entire community.

in that video, i confidently say that spring collab is ALWAYS interesting, because modding culture is interesting even if it's interesting for being a little bad or revealing something about the author's proclivities. strawberry jam represents a near unanimous drive to remove authorship and make levels that are impartially agreeable, to make Celeste 2. it's only interesting when the mapper does something interesting on purpose, like Paint, Pointless Machines, Undergrowth, Summit Down-Side or Flipside Cliffside. a path of least resistance emerged in the time between SC2020 and Strawberry Jam, and experiencing it in this quantity made me forget what I liked about this game or this modding scene in the first place. the volume of creative gimmicks and varied aesthetics is huge, but each one starts to feel identical after being ground through this particular jank-averse process. I still have strong opinions about every map in SC2020, even the ones that might seem unremarkable, I can only barely begin to quantify the entire fucking C tier of my SJ tierlist. it's diverse on the surface but the substance is homogenous, especially intermediate through expert.

also in my SC2020 video, I talked about a certain tension that arrives once you get to the expert lobby, where the mappers had to create uncommercial levels of difficulty that rubbed against a similar apparent drive to make the player feel like they're actually doing the challenge & not just watching it. strawberry jam arrives at this conflict far earlier, the INTERMEDIATE maps and onwards are the ones that seem to pull between making interesting challenges while also having the player be an agent in those challenges. they want the intermediate levels to feel hard, look cool, and the solution is to just make them ridiculously constrained so the only way is the ~satisfying~ way. that's why I won't make a video about strawberry jam, because many segments in my spring collab video already serve as criticism for strawberry jam. it made the same mistakes again, but worse, and with far less of the things that made me love spring collab in spite of its flaws.

here's my tierlist, if there are any questions i'll try and qualify any of these takes with what i can remember from playing it. however, for reasons stated previously I won't be playing more so this is probably gonna be it.

[nanawritesit]

Obey Me! Dateables: A Demon Tries to Harass You But You Kick Their Ass

TW: unconsensual touching from other demons, punching, pinning down, hitting, mentions of killing, physical violence

—————

Diavolo:

As Diavolo’s future spouse, you were well aware of the amount of people in the Devildom who hated you. Jealous fangirls, traditionalists, and power-hungry diplomats all had a vendetta against you. However, most of them just left a few hate comments and went on their way. It was never an enormous issue. The majority of the Devildom had a positive opinion of you, and you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to marry the Prince of Hell.

You and Diavolo were at a press conference to answer questions about your engagement, and after the initial interview, you decided to take a break and use the restroom. As you were washing your hands, the door swung upon behind you.

You glanced up in the mirror to see a man leaning back against the closed door. “Hello, human.”

“Hello, sir. Can I help you with something?” you asked politely.

“Yes, you can actually.” he sneered, taking a few strides towards you. “You can disappear from the Devildom forever. We don’t need a human marrying our Prince.”

You chuckled coldly, putting your hands on your hips. “Well, unfortunately I can’t do that for you sir. See, I’m unable to just spontaneously cease to exist.”

“Then I’ll take care of you myself-“ he griped, winding his arm back to take a punch.

You caught his fist in your dominant hand, gripping his forearm with the other. He furrowed his brow at you, seemingly confused that you were able to stop his attack so easily. He barely had time to register the thought before you had him pinned to the ground, pressing his face into the floor.

“You can hate me all you want, sir. But nothing is going to stop me from marrying Lord Diavolo.” you hissed, a sinister smirk plastered on your face. “You’ll just have to accept the fact that a weak, worthless little human got way further in their short life than you ever will in your immortality.”

Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open. You flipped your head around to see Diavolo looking down at you with huge eyes. He quickly shut the door behind him and ran towards you. “My love, are you alright?” he inquired, large hands patting over your body to identify any signs of injury.

“I’m okay Dia, this crazy anarchist just tried to attack me.” you chuckled, nodding toward the man underneath you.

“He what?” your fiancé seethed. He looked down at the man with such untamed rage that you thought he was going to kill him.

“Dia, it’s okay.” you reassured him. “I took him down didn’t I?”

He exhaled, trying to calm himself down. “Well thank the heavens that nothing happened to you this time.” He placed a hand gently on your cheek. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you. I should’ve never let you come here alone. From now on, you’ll be under constant supervision by the Royal Guard.”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise. “Even just to go to the bathroom?”

He looked at you sympathetically, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry my love, but it’s for your own safety. This is what it’s like being a royal.”

You thought to yourself for a moment, then smiled at him. “Okay, I understand. Whatever it takes to be with you.”

He smiled back, then placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “I love you so very much. You’re going to be an amazing monarch. I couldn’t have chosen anyone better.”

You rested your forehead against his, nuzzling his nose with your own. “Neither could I.”

He suddenly looked down at the man who had been struggling in your grasp the whole time. “Well, I suppose we should turn him over to the guards.” He looked back up at you with a cheeky grin. “You ready to face the press again?”

You winked at him playfully. “You know it babe.”

Barbatos:

You and Barbatos just had a lovely shopping trip to one of his favorite tea shops. After a lengthy consideration, you both finally picked out the perfect teas and teacups, and now he was walking you back to the House of Lamentation. You held your shopping bag in one hand and your handbag in the other.

“MC, are you certain you wouldn’t like me to carry one of those for you?” he asked.

“Oh Barbatos, I’m fine.” you chuckled, waving your hand at him. “I may be a human, but I’m strong enough to carry two bags. You don’t always have to act like a butler you know!”

He joined you in laughing. “My apologies, I suppose old habits die hard.”

It was truly a lovely evening. It was around dusk, and it was the perfect temperature with a light, comfortable breeze. Barbatos was about to make a remark about it, when suddenly a hooded figure dashed up next to you and swiped your shopping bag away from you!

“Why you little-” you shouted at the man, instantly sprinting after him. Barbatos was honestly shocked to see how fast you could run.

“MC wait!” he called out after you, running close behind. “It’s just tea! There’s no need to endanger yourself!”

But he might as well have been yelling at a rock, because you were much too determined to listen. You were gaining on the man, getting closer to him with every stride. Finally, you saw your opportunity and pounced on him, tackling him to the ground. Barbatos stopped in his tracks, looking down at you in awe.

“Give me back my tea you crooked thief!” you shrieked, tugging at the shopping bag. But the stranger was holding it tightly to his chest, not willing to budge. You huffed, then took your handbag off your shoulder and started beating him with it. “Give. It. Back!” Finally, he shoved the bag into your hands and sprinted away, never to be seen again.

“MC, what in the world was that?” Barbatos stuttered out, kneeling down next to you. You were too busy rummaging through your shopping bag to answer. He huffed before continuing. “You could’ve gotten hurt. What if that man was dangerous? He could’ve had a weapon. You shouldn’t risk your life just for some-“

He was cut off by you shoving something into his hands. It was a matching set of emerald green tea cups with golden handles and little white roses painted on them. He mouth dropped open the tiniest bit and his gaze softened as he looked them over.

“I got them for you, as a birthday present.” you told him with a proud smile.

“Oh MC…” he breathed, looking back up at you with an appreciative grin. “They’re absolutely beautiful. But how did you know it was my birthday?”

“I have my resources.” you winked. “That’s why I was so adamant on getting them back.”

He smiled at you again before gently setting the tea cups down to grab your hands. “You are the most reckless, stubborn, and impulsive human I’ve ever met.” He leaned forward to place a kiss on your forehead. “But you’re also the strongest, the most selfless, and the kindest.”

You giggled at his confession, then sprung forward to give him a peck on the lips. But as you went to pull away, he grabbed your cheeks to pull you in for another, more passionate kiss.

“You just can’t get enough of me can you.” you teased, mere centimeters away from his face.

“Who can blame me. I have the most amazing partner in the world.”

Simeon:

He was having a peaceful lunch in the RAD cafeteria with Luke and Solomon, waiting for you to join them at their table. Today was one of the days of the week you dedicated to eating lunch with the Purgatory Hall boys, and Simeon couldn’t be more excited to spend time with you, even if it was only a few minutes.

He noticed you walking towards them with your tray, and flashed you a bright smile. However, it soon faded away as he watched a tall, lanky demon strut his way up to you.

He couldn’t hear what you were talking about, but he could tell by the way you gripped onto your tray that you were uncomfortable. Suddenly, the demon started to put his hands on you, snaking his arms around your waist and fiddling with your hair. He was obviously trying to put the moves on you.

Just as Simeon was about to get up to help you, you sprang into action. You tossed your tray onto the table next to you, turned around in the demon’s grasp, and gripped his arm in your hands. Then, you promptly flipped him over your shoulder and onto the ground.

“I told you, I’m not interested! If you ever put your disgusting hands on me again I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again!” you screeched down at him. The whole cafeteria was silent, and all eyes were on you. But you seemed unfazed. You just ran a hand through your hair and grabbed your tray off the table you had thrown it on, walking towards Simeon again.

The chatter around the cafeteria resumed shortly after you sat down next to Simeon, who was looking at you with the brightest sparkle in his eyes.

“MC are you okay?” Luke asked. “I’ll go get you some desserts!”

“I’ll join you.” Solomon agreed, getting up to follow the child. He could sense that the two of you needed a moment alone.

You took a bite of your lunch after they had left, then glanced over at Simeon. “What is it?”

“You’re truly remarkable, you know that?” he told you, his eyes completely locked in on you.

You blushed, taken aback at his sudden praise. “What do you mean?”

“You just flipped a demon over your shoulder as if he was a stuffed animal.” he chuckled while shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re a human, and yet you’re the strongest person in this room.”

You were at a loss for words. He was looking at you as if you were some sort of deity, and you couldn’t help but enjoy it. He was the most beautiful being in the world to you, and it felt good to be the object of his admiration.

“Well…” you finally said back, clicking your tongue and glancing at the ground nervously. “I have to stand up for myself. I can’t always rely on someone else to save me.”

He leaned forward and grabbed your hand, making your heart stop. “That’s so brave of you. As your guardian angel, I will always sacrifice everything to protect you. But it’s so astounding to know that you can take care of yourself.”

You smiled at him, squeezing his hand back. “Thank you very much, Simeon. I’m happy to have you as a guardian angel.”

Just as you were getting lost in each others loving gazes, Luke and Solomon came back to your table.

“Okay, I didn’t know what you liked, so I just got them all!” the child beamed, plopping down a huge pile of cookies, cupcakes, and candy bars.

Simeon chuckled at the gesture. “Luke, I think you might’ve overdid it. But it’s okay, our wonderful MC has to build up their strength after that powerful display.” You could’ve sworn he winked at you. You just shrugged and went back to your lunch. What a crazy day.

Solomon:

The two of you had been out in the city all night, walking home through the back alleys, when suddenly a huge, burly demon lumbered up in front of you.

“Hm, what do we have here?” he hissed, making you both stop in your tracks. “Two poor little humans lost in the Devildom?”

“Actually, we’re not lost.” Solomon chuckled, and it took all of your willpower not to laugh along with him.

“Oh, you will be soon.” the stranger spat back, beginning to crack his knuckles. “I can’t pass up the opportunity to kill both the humans Lord Diavolo has brought down here as his precious exchange students.”

“Dude, back off.” Solomon demanded, beginning to stand in front of you protectively.

“Step aside, sorcerer.” the unknown demon replied, shoving past him towards you. “I’ll start with this little snack over here…”

Suddenly, your fight or flight kicked in, and you threw your arms up, launching a gust of magical power towards him. He was totally frozen in place, mid-stride. Solomon just stared at you with his mouth agape, eyes wide in shock.

“He should be frozen for a good while, let’s get out of here!” you told Solomon, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him away quickly.

“MC do you even realize what you just did?” he baffled, still too shocked to run away. You were practically dragging him through the entire alley.

“Solomon come on, we’ve got to get back to RAD before another psycho demon with a human fetish attacks us!” you pleaded, looking behind your shoulder worriedly.

“You just executed the freezing spell perfectly! You’ve never done that before!” Solomon gawked. He stopped in his tracks completely, making you huff a defeated sigh.

You turned towards him and put your hands on your hips. “Yes, I know. You only taught it to me a few days ago. I guess the danger of the situation just made my magic more powerful.” you proposed. “I know I’m only an apprentice, but-“

“I’m so proud of you.” he interrupted.

You looked up at him, stunned. You tried to fight the pink blush that threatened to creep its way up your cheeks. “Really?” you asked.

“Mhm.” he nodded, stepping closer to you. He stopped in front of you, hooking a finger under your chin to prompt you to look up at him. “You’re becoming so powerful.”

At this point, your heart was practically beating out of your chest. Everything around you was starting to grow hazy. Was he putting a spell on you? Was it just the adrenaline of the attack? Or maybe… it was just the natural affect he had on you.

You couldn’t hold back any longer, and threw your hands up to hold onto his face. You pulled him in and crashed your lips against his, knocking the breath right out of him. He quickly recovered, moving his hands down to your waist as he deepened the kiss. After a little while, you slowly backed away, eyelashes fluttering hazily.

“Thank you, Solomon. It’s because you’re such a good teacher.”

“No, my dear. It’s because you’re a truly gifted apprentice.”

[ghouljams]

Hihi! This is my first time requesting so I’m a lil nervous lol but I LOVE ur writing, especially your cowboy aus!!

I was scrolling on insta and saw this : https://www.instagram.com/reel/C3YYJmyPETo/?igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Immediately thought of cowboy!Graves during a rodeo winking and giving reader, who’s sitting in the front row with her friends, his signature devilish smile when he lands on the fence. Maybe even taking his hat off and reader thinks he’s just saying hi (tipping his hat yk?) but he ends up putting it on her head?? Save a horse ride a.. yk 😏 kinda thing

Maybe he comes and finds her after the show or vice versa and it gets a lil spicy?? Or maybe some fluff + banter would be better? idk 🤷‍♀️

NEwaysss just some late night thoughts that are squirming their way into my brain. Totally feel free to ignore this and have an amazing day/night!! 🫶🫶

Ok, I hope you don't mind me tweaking this a little, I've got Graves set up as a bull rider, with his sweetheart riding brocs, and this just popped into my head as soon as I saw that man hit the bars.

The bronc bucks you right off and onto the metal fence. Your shin hits the bar and you nearly roll over the top into the crowd. You manage to catch yourself before that happens but not before nearly face planting into someone's lap. You look up and flash them your best smile, and feel the wind rush out of your sails staring up at Graves. Eyes previously fixed down your shirt, dart to meet your own. His lips curl over his teeth in a way that make you think he'd rather bite you than anything else, more baring his teeth more than smiling. Heat rushes to your face, embarrassment flooding you.

"Howdy," He coos, and you scramble to get off the fence and back into the ring. He laughs when you jump back down to the dirt, and the sound follows you on your way to settle the horse. You reach up to fix your hat and hit empty air, you look around the ring for it and spot your least favorite bull rider plucking it out of the stands to settle on his head. He waves his hat for you and you feel your blood boil.

Forget the horse you hustle backstage, you cannot think about the horse and your hat, and the way he'd smiled at you without a stiff drink.

"That was a first place dismount," One of your friends laughs, as you look around for you stuff. You need every reason not to stick around. You're smart, you're capable, you know exactly what's going to happen in the next few moments if you aren't ready to book it.

"Fourth place ride," You grumble, snagging your water bottle from their hand. You get most of the way out of the door before you're caught.

A firm arm catches your waist and spins you to meet a wolf's smile. You do your best to look unamused when he tells you, "That was a lucky dive you took."

You work your tongue over your teeth for something to do instead of talking, trying to come up with the kindest way to say 'give me my hat back and let me go' the best you get is: "Thought PBRs didn't show up 'til tomorrow." If you'd thought the subject change would help it doesn't.

"You keepin' track of me? Here I thought you didn't like me." Unflappable, you don't think you've seen this man break once since you met him. You wonder what's wrong with him. Usually folks are able to take no for an answer.

"Never said that," You try to shake off his grip and he pulls you closer. Your arm bumps against his chest and you stiffen at the firm muscle. "A little space?" You gripe, feeling him lean into you.

"I'm alright," He purrs, tipping his head and running his thumb along the top edge of your belt, "comfortable actually."

"You flirt with all the bronc riders?" You ask watching a few walk by and smile at him, he raises a hand in greeting and pushes his hips against yours. You can't help the shiver that snakes its way down your spine, the way your hand goes to grab his wrist when his fingers brush against your stomach.

"Just the real feisty ones."

"So all of them." You make a small noise pressing back into him to try and get away from the warmth of his hand.

"Don't be like that sweetheart," He presses, his chin settling against your shoulder, the depth of his voice makes you squirm, you hate flirts, you hate that they get to you like this, "you and me are end game, the sooner you figure that out the better it'll be." He hums, and you can almost feel him thinking before he tacks on, "for both of us."

He lets you go and you stumble a step out of his grasp, turning to glare at him. He settles his hat on your head and suddenly your glare feels more like a pout.

"Lemme buy you a drink, help ya walk off that dismount." He offers with a crooked smile.

"Top shelf," You glare.

"Of course," He cocks his head.

"As much as I want," You narrow your eyes further, just because it makes his eyes sparkle with heat.

"Anything you want sugar, any time you want it."

...

Maybe you can entertain one flirt once. Especially when he slips the bartender a black card and orders a round for the bar. You probably should notice that everyone in the bar is masked, and sporting the same rook/spade insignia, but you're a little more preoccupied with the drink Graves slides you. Your confidence only wavers when you remember you didn't tell him what you drink, and somehow- somehow he's gotten it exactly right.