#but I have very lax way about writing

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[revasserium]

love bites

kenma, tsukki, kageyama, hinata; 2,025 words; fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of hickies, no "y/n", fem!reader, whiney!kageyama, dom!hinata, tsukki being... tsukki, post timeskip!characters

summary: these hickeys like the remnants of our love, footsteps on the sea-soaked sand, a line of demarcation -- here is where our story begins.

a/n: i just rly wanted to write about hq! babes and hickies...

kenma.

the first time it happens, it’s a mistake — a brief moment of vindictiveness manifest in the way he whines and nuzzles into your neck before opening his mouth and sinking his teeth into your skin. when you gasp, your head tipping back, kenma pauses, pulling back, his mind already cataloging this very interesting new piece of information for later use, but his eyes have yet to catch up — his body has yet to catch up with the sight of you, cheeks pink, lips parted, eyes slightly glazed over as you stare ruefully up at him, a hand coming up to press over your mouth as you frown.

“w-what was that for?”

kenma hums, sitting back with a pout, “you were the one being unfair.”

you scowl, “how was i being unfair? you lost the game fair and square — the stakes were loser does the dishes.”

kenma sniffs, his nose crinkling at the thought, “but we have a dishwasher — it’s literally in the name —”

“but the nice wine glasses can’t be put through the dishwasher!”

you push yourself up onto your elbows even as kenma slumps back on the sofa, groaning loudly. still, he lets his head slump to one side to stare at the rapidly darkening patch of skin at the junction of your neck and shoulders. there’s something that feels dangerously like desire calcifying in the pit of his stomach and he weighs the pros and cons of leaning forward to give you another good bite.

really, dinner was great, dessert was better but — this.

suddenly, he understands what his teammates had always meant when they’d said they could keep on eating forever, even when their stomachs were full to bursting, even when they thought they’d be ill.

“stupid wine glasses…” he murmurs, leaning forward to prop his chin on your shoulder. you laugh, a soft, breathy thing as you reach out to tug a strand of hair from his low, messy bun.

“but the wine was good, no?”

kenma hums, letting his head loll back and forth, his eyes flickering down once more to the round ring of red now rising against your skin. he allows himself a tiny grin, leaning forward to press a kiss over the tender flesh. he makes note of the way you gasp, soft and expectant, the way your body seems to tense and then go laxed beneath his hands.

“yeah…” he whispers, smirking as he sinks delicate fingers into your hair, gently shifting your head to one side to allow him more access, “guess it was good…”

he presses another kiss to your neck, just slightly below the reddening hickey.

“g-guess? that was — a-an expensive bottle…”

“hmmm…” kenma trails his lips down over your shoulder, tugging lightly at your shirt, the wide collar falling away easily. when he finds yet another patch of unmarred skin, grazing his teeth over it, he feels the way you reach up to fist your fingers in his hair.

“’zume… don’t think you can get out of doing the dishes like this…”

kenma laughs, letting his breath puff out against your skin seconds before he opens his mouth and takes another soft bite. he doesn’t miss the way you whimper this time, doesn’t mistake the hitch in your breath for something like surprise when he knows better — and he knows you best of all.

“not trying to get out of doing it… just… we never specified when the loser has to do the dishes so…” he licks his lips, glancing up at you with a bright, devilish flicker behind his eyes, “i’m just taking my time with the meal. nothing wrong with that, right?”

tsukki.

it is a normal thing, for you to wake up in the morning and find remnants of the night before scattered across your skin like sand dollars littered upon a stretch of beloved beach. and tsukishima is never apologetic — ever.

if anything, he looks upon his work with pride, smirking as you tug at the collar of your shirt, tutting.

“tsukki… i told you not to bite so hard…”

“hmm… sorry, i must’ve forgotten,” he props a cheek on his hand, peering at you over his glasses, his tone the farthest thing from apologetic, “heat of the moment and all.”

you shoot him a reproachful look in the mirror and watch as his grin widens ever so slightly.

“the girls are the museum are gonna have a field day with this.”

tsukishima shrugs, slumping back into the bed with a loud, long sigh.

“dunno why girls have such a weird fixation on other people’s boyfriends. ‘s not like it’s any of their business.”

you tug listlessly at the collar of your button up shirt, resigned to the fact that you’ll never be able to hide the marks properly as you heave another sigh.

“it’s just how we communicate — it’s like… how guys sometimes just need to like… punch it out — or whatever.”

“or whatever?” tsukishima almost chortles, rolling over onto his stomach again. your schedules at the museum only overlap 2 days a week, and the rest of the days, either he’s off or you are. it’s a miracle the pair of you were able to meet in the first place, let alone hit it off like you did.

“yeah. i don’t know how guys communicate,” you say, even as tsukishima swings out of bed to come up behind you, looping his arms around your middle.

“we… don’t, really,” he admits, in a customary deadpan, propping his chin on the top of your head with obscene ease. you frown up at him, tilting your head back till it hits the middle of his chest.

“you’re gonna make me late again.”

“so?”

“so — unless you want me to get fired —”

“they’re not gonna fire you. you’re too good at… cataloging maps, or whatever it is you guys do in the cartography department.”

tsukishima spins you around his arms, pressing you lightly back against the mirror. he considers you for a moment, with eyes just sharp enough to pass for academic interest, but you see the darkness misting its depths, the pressure in his fingertips as he leans in to seal his lips over yours in a kiss that could only be called searing.

you break away gasping, only to feel his lips trail fire down your neck seconds before —

“t-tsukki — !”

he pulls back with a satisfied smirk; you can feel yet another bruise blooming along your skin.

“there. one more thing for you and your girlfriends to bond over, hm?”

kageyama.

it is a deliberate thing, the first time. but kageyama remembers the strange gravity, the tug just behind his navel, the persistent itch of curiosity as he leans forward to sink his teeth into your skin.

he likes the way you hiss, the way you go soft in his arms, the pair of you already a pile of tangled limbs on the massive sectional in the living room, the lights dimmed, half a bottle of red wine yet un-drunk on the coffee table.

“tobio… what —”

he hums, burying his face in your shoulder, fingers digging into your sides.

“… something i wanted to try…”

“hm?” you gently card your fingers through his hair, quirking your head to one side.

“it’s just —” he pulls back, a deep blush prickling his cheeks as he looks anywhere but at you, “something… i’ve wanted to try. for — a while,” he admits, looking shockingly small for a internationally renowned volleyball player, hunched over on the couch like this, his lips stained dark with wine.

you giggle, leaning up to tilt his chin back towards yours.

“sure. you can try whatever you want.”

you lay back, stretching out beneath him, pliant and willing, and kageyama goes still for a solid four seconds before he narrows his eyes, an un-namable hunger clawing at his insides as he pulls you beneath him and groans into your skin.

he likes the way the colors seep the surface of your skin, likes the way it’s so obvious against the bright of your collarbones. he spends all of the following day in an intoxicatingly good mood, to the point where his teammates are understandable suspicious. but he just tells them he slept well, that he had a good dinner last night, that wine was really, really delicious.

and that thanks for the recommendation.

hinata.

brazil has changed him, in more ways than you can count, but at the same time, in some ways, he is just, just the same.

“s-shou-you!”

“mmm —” he whines sucking a deep hickey into the junction of your neck, his pupils blown wide as he pulls back, lips split into a too-pleased grin, “what is it? did i hurt you?”

there’s the barest hint of a tease in his voice, and anyone else might’ve thought he’s completely serious, that he’s actually worried. and in a sense, he is — he’d never want to actually hurt you. but he also knows that — to a certain degree, you revel in this kind of pain.

you chew on your bottom lip, shaking your head.

“no… it’s — it’s okay.”

“yeah?” he sounds entirely too happy with himself as he reaches forward to thumb at the damp spot on your skin, “ah… that one’ll be pretty. just like you!”

he laughs, his joy so pure and infectious that it makes you blush. you look away.

“shou…?”

“hm? what is it, pretty girl?”

he bends back down to press a light kiss to your collarbone, peaking up at you with those would-be innocent eyes.

“don’t… don’t tease me.”

hinata laughs, that self-same, joyous sound.

“but i like teasing you!” he says, with no hint of malice, not a single sliver of shame.

you can only cover your eyes with your arm, turning your head away.

“aww, don’t do that —” he says, coaxing your hand away before pinning both of them above your head with a single, fluid move. your breath hitches.

“don’t hide from me…”

it’s too much to hope for that someone with eyes like his would miss such a thing. you watch as the dark, lightless centers of his eyes grow ever so slightly larger, threatening to overtake the honeyed ring of his actual iris.

“can’t… can’t help it…” you look away, feeling the waves of indomitable heat, wave after wave, washing through you, collecting at the base of your stomach to twist into something deeper, something harder.

“can’t help what, hm?” hinata laces your fingers with his; distinctly, you can feel his thighs flex on either side of your legs, locking you in place. the summers are hot in rio, but you can’t help but wonder if more than half the heat in the room might be coming from the pair of you alone.

all around him, the air wavers like a reflection in pond-water —

“shou… just —” you lick your lips.

“ah…” there’s a soft whine curling at the edge of his voice as he leans down, “you’re not playing fair at all…”

desire pulses like a heartbeat inside you.

“shouyou, please,” you beg, trying to wrest some semblance of control back from him but he’s having none of it. he pins your hands to either side of your head, his bed more than wide enough for the pair of you, with room to spare.

“mah… you gotta be a bit more specific than that,” he says, his voice almost casual as he noses into your pulse point right beneath your jaw. you hold your breath and a second later, the harsh sting of his teeth rakes through you, chasing pleasure down your spine.

“m-more —” you choke out the word against the heat of his lips and you feel rather than see him grin above you.

“yeah? i think i can do that for you.”

[vxnuslogy]

— will they, won’t they.

pairing: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader

premise: hoshina soshiro has been hopelessly in love with you for years now. and for the first time, you finally hear him say the words "i love you."

— warnings: down bad + jealous hoshina, modern setting, reader is a kyudo player.

— author's note: little miss says she's going on a break then proceeds to write about hoshina soshiro for all the dying fans (its me, i'm the dying fans.) art credits to @.BByo_chick on twitter.| ~700 words.

“how long are ya gonna keep me here?”

“no one is forcing you to.”

hoshina only clicks his tongue and stares at the dojo walls. his finger impatiently tapping at his chin as he hits crossed leg on the floors. it’s half past 5 in the afternoon now and you have no intentions of going home anytime soon.

“i’m gettin’ bored here,” he drawls, hands stretching over his head as he watches you shoot another arrow with pin-point accuracy that makes his smirk twitch uncomfortably. you’ve gotten too good at kyudo, and it shows.

“then go home,” you reply as you pull the bow back and aim for your next shot. “you don’t have to keep waiting for me to finish.”

but that was the thing: hoshina wanted to wait for you and he always will.

he wants everyone to know that you had him and he’s all you’ll ever need. there was no need for that guy who caught your fall a few days ago—not when he’s been catching you for the past 3 years. he was your guide in the train station every morning, so why do you keep trying to go to the station earlier and ask your junior for directions? hoshina soshiro was always by your side, so why couldn’t you see that?

“i’ll wait,” he murmurs into his hand, eyes looking at anything but at you. “got nothin’ to do at home anyways.”

it was a weak excuse, but it always does the trick. you always relent and let him stay but not without throwing a look over your shoulder that screams “you’re acting strange.” because he was. hoshina, against his will, feels his lips being tugged into a frown whenever you interact with anyone that isn’t him.

that sounds very bad–it is bad in a sense–but hoshina would never dream of taking away your freedom. so he just watches, painfully by the sidelines, with a scoff on his face as another student from a rival school stammers to ask for your number. it was irritating, having to watch everyone throw themselves at you when you’re clearly uninterested. 

“what the hell will happen if i’m not by yer side, captain.” hoshina jests as you pack up your stuff and lock the dojo.

“is this about earlier?” you ask with an amused lilt to your voice. “when the new student asked for my number?”

hoshina hated how you always aimed for the heart.

“i have no idea what yer talkin’ about,” he weakly tries to change the topic. hoshina racks his brain to think of something—anything—to help change the conversation, but his mind keeps circling back to you. how you almost looked serious when some guy–who was leagues below you by the way–had the gall to ask you out for a date.

“never took you for the jealous type.” you tease.

“it’s because ‘m not.” he said through gritted teeth, hands balling into small fists against his school bag. “‘m lookin’ out for ya, alright? that guy was a creep. i’m keepin’ yer ass safe from weirdos.”

you looked unconvinced but didn’t comment on his unusual aggressiveness. hoshina let out a frustrated sigh, a hand coming to ruffle your hair and pull just a tiny bit closer that would make everyone question your relationship. this was driving him crazy but he couldn’t do anything about it.

“‘m not jealous. get that over yer pretty little head.”

and until you both got on the train and went your separate ways to go home, hoshina soshiro never once let your hand drop to your side. he kept you impossibly close to his side and whispered sweet good lucks into your ear. body so comfortably lax in your presence he was slouching on the train seat so he could bury his nose in your hair. 

hoshina soshiro was so unfathomably in love with you. 

how could he not love you when you use your own heartbeat to calm his erratic one during every competition? when every hug has his mind spinning with gold and you. every victory is dedicated to your name, and no trophy or medal could ever compare to the feeling of running into your arms and drowning in your praise.

“i love you.” he mutters as you sleep peacefully on his shoulder on your way home. how many years has he been saying it before he lost count? it’s truly just a matter of when you’ll wake up and finally realize it yourself.

he feels the blood rush to his brain as he throws himself on his bed, unable to wipe the image of you smiling as if you had heard him.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[rileyslibrary]

“The Lieutenant wants to see you in his office immediately,” Soap said. And when you asked why, he shrugged and said he didn’t sound very pleased.

“I don’t understand, Sergeant,” you whisper as he escorts you to Ghost, “I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t know, soldier,” he shrugs once more as you reach the door, “just stay strong.”

Strong? Why? And what does he mean by “stay”? You have no idea what happened, so there was no time for you to prepare a case against it. You weren’t “strong”. On the contrary, you were as vulnerable as a house of cards.

Soap knocks on the door, and Ghost calls you in.

You push the door open to find an angry Lieutenant Riley sitting on the edge of his desk. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, tapping his fingers on one of his biceps. His leg hits rhythmically on the desk, and his breathing is audible from across the room.

“Sit down,” he orders sternly and points at the chair right before him, “and close the door, Soap.”

Soap does as he’s told, and so do you.

“So tell me, soldier,” Ghost begins, “what did you want to be as a kid?” He asks and looks at his watch.

“What does th-”

“Answer the fucking question, soldier!” He snaps.

“A t-teacher, sir.”

“A teacher, huh?” He contemplates, “so you liked to lecture others?”

“I don’t under-”

“Answer. The. Fucking. Question.”

“Yes, sir.” You reply and look at the floor.

Ghost unfolds his arms and hands you a piece of paper he has been holding. You look up at the note and then back at him. He brings his index finger to his mouth and eagerly shakes the message in his other hand. You nod, take the paper and unfold it:

“It’s April Fools. Soap has framed you. He’s eavesdropping as we speak. Play along.”

The statement “has framed you” was Ghost’s way to say that Soap was pulling a prank on you.

“So,” he proceeds, “as an aspiring teacher, I suspect you also liked to write on whiteboards?” He asks and checks his watch again, “you know, mark things and put stickers on stuff?”

“Yes, sir!” You reply enthusiastically, and he gestures to take it down a notch. He’s right; you’re supposed to be in trouble.

“And,” he stands up and looks at his watch again, “you decided to relive your childhood and do this?” He says and turns around to reveal Soap’s prank: A giant stamp on the back of his cargo pants with the words “BABY GIRL”, written in white paint and clearly visible from space.

You cover your mouth with your hand, and he gestures for you to stop. You nod and take small inhales, then a long exhale.

“Don’t you have a spare uniform, sir?” You ask, trying not to laugh.

“Good question, soldier,” he shouts so Soap can hear him from behind the door, “see, my spare uniform has a bedazzled JUICY COUTURE written on the back.”

You both hear a thud on the door and someone running away.

“What happened?” You whisper, but Ghost puts his hand up to stop you. He’s focusing on the sounds behind the door. He looks at his watch one more time.

“Well, why don’t you look at that,” He cheers, “it worked!”

“What worked, sir?”

“Senna leaves,” he explains, “I steeped a bunch into Soap’s tea in the morning as revenge.”

“Senna, what, sir?”

“Laxatives, soldier,” he replies, “they take about eight hours to work.”

“And you waited eight hours to get back to him?” You ask, shocked. You thought he had a short fuse. But, no. This man was calculated.

He shrugs. “I saw him last night sneaking into my room,” he explains, “I figured if he wants to mess with my ass, I might as well mess with his.”

He walks towards the window and picks through the curtain. “Come,” he says, “come look at him as he runs to the other side of the base since the toilets here are,” he brings his hands up and makes air quotes with his fingers, “out of order.”

[ferrstappen]

Everybody wants a taste l LN4

a/n: i am in an urgent need of writing ideas I've had for MONTHS so brace yourselves I guess?? also the title ofc is from pop anthem jealous by nick Jonas.

i am also very very very stressed waiting for the standing start.

pairing: Lando Norris x actress!reader

this is angst. and some tom holland after this poll results <3

summary: Lando had never been the jealous kind, but after seeing you with many co-stars, he reaches his limit. and his girlfriend doesn't like it.

No one would ever know Lando Norris' was reaching his limit as he stood on the sidelines of another press junket for his girlfriend's new movie: a coming of age movie that already was creating awards season buzz, and God was he proud of her, having witnessed the ten minute standing ovation she received during Cannes.

But of course the limelight wasn't only on her. No, it was on him.

Lando remembers when he was asked who he'd want to portray him if they ever did a biopic and he didn't hesitate: Tom Holland. There could be some similarities between the two, both British, chestnut curls, but now Lando's skin crawled just from hearing the name.

He had dealt with different co-stars during the almost two years of relationship; he'd seen her kiss them, fight with them, fall in love with them, but this was different, he never had to witness her naked skin pressed against someone else, placing her body on top of his, pretended noises he knew weren't real and authentic, but still, they were supposed to be just for him. All for the sake of making a point of her character being an adult now, some shit about an epiphany of being able to take control of her own life, make decisions about her body, and whatever the screenwriters wanted to portray.

And of course Lando didn't help himself.

user1: God has favorites, just check y/n having fake sex w tom holland and real sex w lando norris

user2: no but y/n and tom??? such a hot couple I NEED it to happen

user3: and what are you gonna do with lando and zendaya? lol user2: idc I just want y/n and tom to be a thing

And that was just the beginning, before the movie had even dropped, because the day of the premiere? Everything went wrong.

Sunny Los Angeles had welcomed you and Lando after landing from London, paparazzi eagerly waiting for the arrival at LAX, catching the perfect pictures of Lando placing you in front of him, holding your hand tightly and doing his best to shield your body from prying eyes who just wanted a couple of dollars.

Despite being jet lagged after spending a couple of days in your home in Monaco, there wasn't much time to catch a break because the moment the two of you set foot on the Beverly Hills Hotel, they barely let you take a shower before giving some nice, fluffy robes. Lando was first, out of nowhere two people were working on his hair while the other was applying some kind of serums and creams on his face, but he didn't care when it was time for another team to start working on you; Lando was mesmerized by the way your hair perfectly framed your face, the natural glow of your skin, the deep red of your lips.

"I don't like being so separated," Lando pouted, walking towards your seat, earning a giggle from you because he looked so funny and cozy with the big robe.

"There's not much we can do, baby. I can barely move," You searched for his eyes and that was when Lando got the idea. The hair stylists gasped when the racer sat down on the floor, circling his arms around one of your legs and resting his cheek on your thigh. "Oh, you're willing to be told off by the make up artists as well?" You asked him but your insides were dancing all over the place, your fingers quickly finding their place on his curls.

Neither of you noticed a Vogue photographer capturing the scene, with Lando's eyes closed and cheek smushed, with his arms secured around your leg, but neither realized representatives for Armani had walked in carrying Lando's tux and your body-hugging black velvet gown.

So far so good. A picture perfect young couple who loved each other very much and had photographers swooning by the way Lando fixes your earring and checks for lipstick on your teeth, and how you make sure his bow tie is leveled.

But then, they get to the red carpet.

It was an elegant affair, but still full of people and before he realized, the red carpet manager was separating you from him for an alone photo call before the one and only Tom Holland got there, cheerfully greeting you in front of the cameras, throwing a couple of jokes to make you laugh as he placed his hand on your back.

This was a nightmare, having to listen to people say how cute the two of you looked, a perfect on and off screen pair, chemistry on and off the screen, both your names already on the shortlist for the Oscars.

Lando's skin was starting to crawl, and it didn't help that he had to re watch the scenes haunting his mind, but this time it was out for the entire world to see, and it didn't take long for his latest instagram post to be flooded of vile comments.

when are you getting replaced by tom holland??

now tom holland can play you in movie and y/n plays herself, nothing changes lmao

lando control ur woman!!!

lucky man, she sounds so pretty I almost had to leave the theatre

lando honey you can leave her I'd never do that to you

And Lando knows he shouldn't, but when your hand reaches for his when the night ends, he pretends to look for his phone; when you try to fix a messy curl, he moves his head out of your reach.

and you know your boyfriend too well.

"Baby, are you okay?" You ask him once you reach the shared hotel room.

Lando lets out a dry chuckle, but too aware of his throat closing. "Why wouldn't I be?"

But you weren't having it, not today, not on your big day, not when you just wanted rest your head on his chest and fall asleep with his arms wrapped around your frame.

"I don't know, you tell me, you're the one acting weird,"

"I am not," Lando argued, trying to take deeper breath, but failing miserably.

"Okay Lando, whatever, I don't care. You can be selfish during a very important day for me for all I care,"

Those words struck a nerve: "Me? Selfish? Are you fucking kidding me?" Now you could see his cheeks flushing, maybe even his neck gaining some red color.

You wanted to be scared, to walk away and let him cool off any unwanted feeling or thought on his head, but you couldn't.

"No, I'm not. Please illustrate me as to what happened to put you in this insufferable mood," You argued back and watched as Lando's mouth opened and closed as he undid the cuffs from his shirt, threw the suit jacket on the leather sofa and threw away the bow tie, all in just a couple of seconds.

"Am I not allowed to be upset to watch him all over you, having to look at the both of you acting like the best of friends or lovers for all I care, and then have to watch on this fucking enormous screen how you kiss him and touch him," Lando spat the words as if they were venom; he could feel his throat closing

Your eyes widened in disbelief, your brain not processing Lando's words. "Lando, you are not making any sense. Are you listening to yourself?" You were careful not to raise your voice, knowing he wasn't in a clear space of mind, but you blood was running hot too after processing what he was implying.

"Yes, I am. (Y/N), baby, I'm tired of having to watch you making out with a different guy every a couple of months, it is so tiring, and I understand that this is your job, but..." Lando was about to continue but was stopped by you, messily taking off the heavy velvet dress and heels, putting on the first pair of jeans and oversized sweater you found. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to listen to you anymore. You are ridiculous, Lando. You're talking about my job, my career, that I've worked my ass off, and never in a million years I thought you'd be telling me this bullshit! I'm not going to entertain this, so if you can't deal with this anymore, please let me know so that I can move on," this time your throat tightened, the last words coming out broken and choked, emotions fighting to make their way; from anger to utter sadness.

"Where are you going?" Lando didn't know if he was angry with you, disappointed in himself, maybe a mix of both as he watched you grab the Chanel black backpack.

"I don't know, but let me know if you can do this or what,"

You were sure those were the last words of the unforeseen argument, but as you were grabbing the card key of the room, Lando opened his mouth.

"Maybe you can go with Tom, everyone wants you two together anyway."

Of course he needed to get the last words.

[ckret2]

@marsupials-of-mars submitted:

I was planning to do maybe a fic and more doodles of this but now I'm busy with school so I might as well show what I did do!

Based on how the goldilocks fic seems to posit that Bill at his best is a silly professor who loves to teach his own way

Introducing Professor Locke!

Things about this idea:

-post redemption, however that will go. I'm calling it an AU because I imagine it is not your plan for what happens after lol, but currently canon-compliant.

-Bill is at first not very on board with the idea of working in the higher education system. It's a scam and it's dumb that they tell adult people how to think.

-He's eventually convinced to bless Backupsmore with his tutelage, on the grounds that they're less stuck up there, they seem to care about giving their students opportunities despite their backgrounds, and the kids there care about learning rather than going to college just because their parents said they should.

-Ford uses his academic connections to vouch for Bill even though he is very mysterious and has no academic records. This is another reason why they picked Backupsmore: i's a little more lax when presented with a shockingly smart mystery professor. Bill gets an interview and charms the pants off the university president.

-He teaches "astrophysics" in theory (that's the job description) but he ends up teaching a little bit of everything.

-He's one of those professors you either adore or despise. He's very loud, often outright mean, and if you're too shy to speak up in class he does not give a SHIT about you. You gotta want it!

-However, his class is notoriously easy. He thinks homework and tests are facist, but he's required to have a curriculum, so his "quizzes" are like a few true or false questions and then a short answer where he asks something he thinks would be funny or wants to hear about, like "what's the dumbest thing another student has said in class since the last test and why was it dumb" or "fashion advice: what's the coolest thing I wore this last week? Extra credit: draw something cooler I SHOULD wear."

-as a result, students who have completely unrelated majors will take his class. If they end up being interested, he deems them worthy. If they're just there to be lazy, he will bully them into dropping out.

-Mabel buys him stickers to put on people's tests when they pass, or to just hand out when they something he likes. He gets along most with the college kids who know how to appreciate a classic gold star.

-He really wanted a big pretty lecture hall, where his voice would echo and he could point at a big chalkboard. But all Backupsmore could provide was a cinderblock and linoleum basement classroom. The lights buzz very loudly and it smells musty. They have stools and folding tables. Bill finds he enjoys the more intimate environment where he can walk between the tables and also sneak up on people.

-He's broken multiple folding tables by trying to do the cool professor thing where you hop up onto your desk and cross your legs and talk all casual. He is able to do this on his own desk thankfully. It's aluminum.

-Ford gets a bit nervous if he did the right thing when bill tells his school stories at the dinner table, so he finds an excuse to accompany Bill to a campus event where he can meet some of his students.

-His fears are quickly assuaged when he sees how beloved Bill is and how well he gets along with the kids. When he eventually joins in on one of these conversations, one of the students asks if he's Sixer. The students are excited by this. Bill tries to shut them up, to partial success.

OK I guess I just ended up writing the fic more or less so enjoy I guess lol.

Aww, this is adorable! Thank you! (And the fact that you're imagining a future for Bill makes me so happy.) He's absolutely be the weirdest professor in the school and he'd ADORE having a crowd full of trusting impressional minds whose parents are paying him to change the way they think. Talk about playing to his strengths.

Your idea is so wholesome, meanwhile the moment I saw "Professor Bill" I went,

[gilbirda]

Personal coach Red Hood

Idea by @impyssadobsessions where Jazz needs a personal trainer from a gotham hero and chooses red hood. Eventual ship content. This is more of a setting so far but i have ideas. I accept ideas too, im just balling

I'm going to try a more chill and lax posting with this bad boy. I feel like my rigid way of organizing is making me feel restricted so this will be 1000% vibes and let's see where it goes.

Part 2

---

Jazz knew this was a stupid idea. Dangerous. Suicidal, maybe, depending on who would answer her call. But she still had to try.

You may be wondering how a twenty something young woman ends up following Gotham heroes around with a notepad. She wasn’t looking for an autograph, or for the latest scoop on the heroes, trying to uncover their secrets.

She was actually writing down their patterns and observations in behavior, trying to map their patrol routes and create a decent enough file and expectations of the heroes.

What did she need the information for?

She needed a personal trainer.

No, not the kind you hire at the gym. She already tried that and it didn’t work. She also tried MMA, and kickboxing and just to see if she could do it, Judo. All were interesting and gave her a pretty good picture of what her body was capable of, and a guesstimate of her physical limitations.

But no. She needed something else, something more… tailored for what she actually needed the training for.

She needed to intern with a hero. The term “sidekick” felt wrong for what she had in mind, since she didn’t want to be that hero’s trainee forever. Or was interested in the current superhero scene at all. They were doing just fine without her.

She just… she felt left out. Danny was amazing but he didn’t need her, not as much as she would have liked. He was a hero, and a pretty good one, but he wasn’t in any place to train her. Not that he wanted to, since he usually avoided her every time she brought it up.

Her baby brother was all grown up and he didn’t need his older sister anymore. 

Jazz shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Danny would always need her — she just needed to do her homework and keep up with him on her own. If she just trained enough and could hold her own in ghost fights, she was sure Danny would be grateful and appreciate her support. Who knows, maybe he would be happy that he didn’t need to be wary of ghosts day and night, and actually rest and focus on his neglected studies.

She yawned, lamenting another night that looked to be a bust. Maybe the heroes were busy tonight? Maybe they were on a big mission away? Unlikely that all of them were away, there were usually at least a few of the Bats flying around the city.

Why Gotham, you may ask? Of all the funny-dressed crime fighters on Earth, why these people? 

Easy.

They were human.

That piqued Jazz’s interest. She had been between the Arrows and the Bats, but finally chose the Bats because Gotham had one perk over Star City: unlimited supply of ectoplasm. The place was almost as coated in the thing as Amity, which she was grateful for. It saved her from going back and forth to places rich with ghost activity and fishing blobs to eat.

Don’t ask too many questions about the consuming blob ghosts part. It was a necessary evil.

However, it’s been a few months and all she got to show for her efforts was a notepad filled with scribbles she painstakingly copied to her computer and a lot of frustration.

Until one night she caught Red Hood alone as he checked his phone. She waited until he was done texting — she had manners thank you very much — and jumped in front of him before he had the chance to grapple away.

“Hi— oof.” 

Thanks the ancients for her reflexes and Judo training, she blocked Hood's punch and following kick. It would probably bruise but it wasn't the end of the world.

“What the fuck?” 

“Hi,” she tried again, “I'm Jazz.”

He didn't punch her again, which she took as a good sign. Instead, he took a step back and squared up like he was expecting a fight.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” he scoffed but let her continue speaking, “I’m looking for… I guess you’d call it a mentor? That sounds weird… A personal trainer? No, that’s wrong too. Hm, I wonder if there’s a word for ‘person who is the only one that can teach you very specific information in a field of interest that legally, or otherwise—’.”

Red Hood cleared his throat, making her jump.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah? I am real.”

Hood looked at her in silence for a few moments. Then, he sighed and rubbed one gloved hand against his helmet. 

“Listen, girl.”

“Jazz!”

“Jazz,” somehow she got the impression he grumbled, but the voice modulator did its job really well, “I have things to do, ok? Crimes to stop and stuff. So… yeah. Goodnight.”

He turned around and picked the grapple gun from inside his jacket.

“Wait!” 

He jumped and misfired the gun, hitting the wall of the building instead of the roof, like he was supposed to. As the gun recalled the rope, he looked over his shoulder at her. Jazz understood he was glaring at her, she could feel the daggers on her skin.

“Hear me out, ok?” He didn’t move or said anything. “I need— I have tried hiring a trainer, at… back at the gym. You know? But that wasn’t enough. I think I need to train with an actual hero—”

“Listen,” the word was accompanied by the hook of the grapple clicking into place, “whatever it is you are looking for, you definitely are not going to find it with me. So. Scramble.” 

He made a shooing gesture with one hand and aimed the gun without looking, shooting it and amazingly enough, hitting the edge of the rooftop. He made a salute as he was launched to the air at high speed.

Jazz didn’t follow, mesmerized by the skill. Hood landed with a flip and without breaking momentum, started running to the next rooftop, jumping impossible lengths. The way he moved was confident, powerful and measured.

She wanted to do that. She needed Red Hood to train her.

---

Back to Main Archive

Back to Danny Phantom Archive

Do you like my stuff? You can support me here!

[lycheeloving]

I KNOW MY THING IS "every member of the Justice League has their own darling". BUT. all of them having the same darling is so fun too... Some slight nsfw at the end so minors dni please. (Inspired by the A Day In Life series by @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, bc it's what made me think of the yandere JL so much that I had to write something. Hope it's ok to tag you!)

I feel like they'd have a schedule. Who's allowed to hang out with you at what time? Just a meticulous schedule that accounts for every second of every day, so that nobody gets to spend more time with you than somebody else.

They try to have one group meal every day, where everyone is present. So even if it's not somebody's turn to spend one-on-one time with you, they still see you and have the opportunity to talk to you that day. They rotate through who gets to sit next to you and right across from you. Those aren't hard rules though, if you want to sit next to somebody else, they begrudgingly (or happily, depending on if you're choosing to sit next to them) follow your wishes. A good way to get back at someone who annoyed you. Green Lantern won't stop bragging about how cool he was yesterday when he took down a bad guy? Get up and tell Superman to scooch over so you can sit next to Batman. Immediately shuts Hal up. And teaches them all not to annoy you during meals if they want to sit next to you.

You sleep in someone else's room every night. That's non-negotiable unfortunately, because some of them are better to sleep next to than others. I think the Flash would move around in his sleep a lot, maybe even snore? Superman treats you like a teddy bear and you can't wriggle out of his grasp when he's sleeping. Wonder Woman probably sprawls out all over the bed so you don't have a lot of space left. Green Lantern steals the blanket. Batman would be one of the better ones, if he wasn't such a light sleeper. Every time you move the slightest bit, he wakes up. Which you wouldn't mind, if he'd only stop his creepy staring... That being said, J'onn is probably the best, quiet and unmoving like Batman, but without the staring. He could be reading your mind and watching your dreams, but that's easier to ignore.

I also think they'd get used to the situation after a while and get more lax about the schedule, get less jealous, learn how to live together! Which is a huge advantage to you as you don't have to hurry from one place to the next to "make the most of your time together" or get back to the Watchtower quickly so you don't cut into the next persons time. That would cause lots of fights in the beginning. None of them blame you, of course, but living with them is still easier when everyone is getting along.

That still leaves the question of how they go about your firsts. Your first kiss with one of them, for example. Pulling names out of a hat? Fight over it? The strongest one gets to go first, the second strongest after that, etc? Letting you decide?

Same thing with having sex. These things are very serious to them so it'd take a while until they decide how to go about it. You'll probably have accepted your place among them at that point, maybe even come to like them?

I could really see them battling it out, even if their jealousy gets better after a while, they would all still want to be the first. Nothing where they'd seriously harm each other, but are still able to determine a winner. Whoever hits the ground first loses?

But whatever it is and whoever wins, I think your first time having sex with them would be a group activity. First place gets to actually have sex with you, second place gets to hold your head in their lap and gently stroke your face, third and fourth place get to sit next to you and each hold one of your hands, everyone else has to watch from the sidelines. (alternate option for that here)

The first kiss would also be in front of everyone else, so the others can stop it from "going too far", and wait for it to be their turn. You'll be kissing non-stop until they've all had their turn (in the order they previously fought over, of course.)

I have no clue who would win though! Superman would be the obvious answer, but if they're allowed to use (tiny, non-lethal amounts of) kryptonite? It could be anyone... Who do you think would win? Or who would you want to win?

[comicaurora]

I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!

Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"

I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.

To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.

But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!

I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.

[hatsheep]

CALL OF DUTY ; TASKFORCE 141 and DAD TIKTOK TRENDS

Note. these aren’t meant to be serious!! this is gn reader (with only one mention of daughter) and meant to be silly. this also isn’t my writing acc but if u guys have a request for platonic tf 141 content go shoot.

CAPTAIN john price

- you sent him many tiktoks and reels, which he always begrudgingly watched during his deployment (mostly because he did miss you)

- he always sends back questions since he dosent understand some slang

- “yap???” “i’m sorry, what does cap mean?”

- when hes home, he was happy to help video you when you were out or when you wanted to do a trend

- but making HIM do a trend?

- it took you forever to convince your dad to do so…but it was worth it

- he would do trends like the “dad lore trend” with him being videoed in x2 speed as he pretended to talk

- “pov: your dad drops the craziest lore on a random tuesday” because he really genuinely does

- or the home depot one…

- “my dad when he sees someone fixing an airplane when we’re about to board our flight” and it’s just him with his hands behind his back or crossed while he watches the repairmen.

- in the end, he enjoys doing these trends with you. but god, if you keep on trying to prank him, he’s actually going to go crazy.

- everyone thinks he’s hot by the way. you have like 50 single/divorced moms in your comment section commenting about him every tiktok he’s in. sometimes people your age.

- “honey, what does beekeeping age mean?”

LIEUTENANT simon “ghost” riley

- you send him many tiktoks that contain silly puns. he on the other hand, only uses reels. either way, he sends you the dumb ones

- or the ones that are like

- “when your teenager is driving and narrowly avoids a tragic accident” or “me i ask my teenager who they’re going out with and it’s still the same group of people since middle school”

- as a dad, he’s honestly very protective over you, but he’s loosened up a bit over the years. he dosent want to be too strict, nor does he want to be too lax.

- he was terrified of becoming like his father.

- either way, if you thought you had to beg price to let you make tiktoks, you’d have to beg hard for your dad to

- simon won’t let you take tiktoks with his face in it, so he’s always his chest and below….or a mask, sunglasses, and a cap.

- surprisingly sentimental! the one tiktok he agreed to was

- “do i always have to kill spiders in your room?” “ofcourse you do, you’re my dad!”

- he teared up a bit

SERGEANT john “soap” mactavish

- boy, he loves doing tiktoks with you

- he loves sending them too!! a nice way for you guys to bond while he’s away is him sending you the really stupid tiktoks that the people of your generation would more commonly send

- he DOES now some slang! he….does NOT know some others though, skibidi toilet confuses him slightly

- he took the sigma male thing seriously for a bit because he thought it was a positive thing. he loves protecting his family and being strong

- sadly stopped when you broke the news to him that it was in fact, maybe not the best thing in real life.

- either way, such a good dad to do tiktoks with

- you can do those really silly ones with the tiktoks audios

- “when my dad finds out i get offended when people say i have my dads accent” with the regina george soundtrack

- “regina wait i didnt mean for that to happen!!” “do you know what everyone says about you?!?!”

- he loves doing them with you, he wouldn’t trade quality time with you for the world

- “be honest, do you really not like the accent????”

SERGEANT kyle “gaz” garrick

- more of a calm dad, but like simon, surprisingly sentimental

- he’s the one from the 141 who’s has the most morality issues, especially doing his job, so he always felt it was best to teach you important values

- he’s drilled into you to never change your ideals for others

- …which leads to him sending motivational quotes or those hopecore videos

- either way, he actually can be pretty silly and he’s the type of dad to get you watermelon every other day for the rest of your life if you say you like it once

- he can be a little blunt with you sometimes though, bless him

- “pov: my dad if he didn’t have me” (i’ll put my helipad over there…my olympic sized swimming pool, OVER THERE!!)

- you do these tiktoks with him (disregard gender because no matter what, he’d make you help)

- this is how poc parents be, pls understand

- you sent him this reel while he was on deployment and he couldn’t stop smiling

- “love you too, pumpkin. remember to take out the dishes”

- “did u have to remind me”

[yaut-jaknowit]

Could you write Male reader x male yautja maybe even Vic'tao and Uihoy where they had really limited human contact and even less knowledge about dating. I love the concept of Yautja trying to court someone but ultimately just freaking the human out more and then changing their ways. This exactly, pls. Where they try to court the reader, maybe even kidnap him to show him that they are very strong etc. bring him skulls and at first they don't understand why he keeps rejecting them and fighting back until one day when they finally give him some device to understand each other and he just tells them what absolute monsters they are etc. And then obviously some fluff where they slowly win back the reader's trust and eventually the reader falls in love

You can obviously chose which yautja actually shows up I just like the two but you can definitely choose someone else, i would just like a male yautja

Lost in Translation

Pairings: Vic'tao (Male Yautja) x Male!Reader x Uihoy (Male Yautja)

Word Count: 4462

Summary: On their first trip to earth, Vic'tao and Uihoy were excited! New creatures to hunt, a new planet to explore. Vic'tao spots you. There's something about you that interests him. He can't shake it. So, he does what any sensible Yautja does: courts you. Hey! Why are you screaming?

Author Note: I love this classic idea. Because in all reality, if any Yautja came up to the average person and offered a skull, you would sprint away screaming. I also love the fact I'm getting so many male reader asks! I didn't know their was so many of you out there.

Masterlist

Ao3

For centuries, Yautjas and oomans have interacted in more way than one. Yet, it all boils down to prey and predator. Vic’tao and Uihoy come strictly for the hunt. Oomans are prey. There’s nothing much else to them.

Not until they saw you.

In a dense city, filled to the brim with oomans that meander to one place to the next, there was you. Vic’tao didn’t understand what is was about you that caught his attention. In all honesty, you looked just any of the other prey that traveled in your city. But, he stopped stalking to sit upon the roof of a build across the street to watch you.

Uihoy paused as well when he noticed his mate no longer was trailing behind him. The older male huffed and shook his head. Youngsters and their short attention span. He headed back towards the mustard yellow and blue male and crouched besides him. The two of them invisible to the naked eye.

They watched as you did your oomanly duties of trading credit for a colorful drink. Uihoy nudged at Vic’tao with his shoulder. “What is it? I don’t think that ooman is much of a worthy kill,” Uihoy questioned and settled down on his haunches. The random ooman strolled out of the building and got into their vehicle.

Before you could escape from Vic’tao easily, the younger of the two threw a tiny puck. The device attached itself to the outside paneling of your vehicle. Then, you were off.

On Vic’tao’s forearm gauntlet, he checked to make sure it was tracking you. A small yellow dot followed the exact pathing on the holoscreen pulled up. He chittered to himself then turned to Uihoy. “We may go now,” he brushed off and jerked his large head in the direction they were originally heading.

The other male quirked a brow from underneath his biomask at his mate’s strange interest in that specific ooman. Uihoy didn’t get an answer. So, he started off the same path they were taking through the city.

Their hunt was about to get more interesting.

On a hot summer morning, a book in hand, you laxed on your balcony. The weekend weather is wonderful to sit outside and enjoy it. A small fan sat off of a round coffee table, blowing air up towards your face. You turned to the next page only to tense up at the feeling of being watched. All of your focus on the book was lost. You placed the book off onto the coffee table and sat up. The feeling followed like a stormy cloud. A shutter ran down the length of your spine. You finally turn on your heel and head back inside to break free.

Once the curtains were shut, the tension that filled your body fell off of you in one huge wave. Strange. You shrugged it off and headed into the kitchen for some water. Hopefully, the water could clear your head about that strange occurrence.

The refreshing water rushed down your throat and helped down your heating body. The outdoors nearly a sweltering heat during the summertime. Your gaze glanced back over to the closed curtains and tilted your head. Whoever was watching you? Your apartment’s balcony faces a tree line. So, it couldn’t be others from another apartment.

A frown broke across your features. You refilled the empty cup of water and head back towards closed curtains. With a deep breath to calm down your rising heartbeat, you pulled them back.

Nothing raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

You shrugged then reentered the tiny balcony. The eyes didn’t return. As you go to sit down back on your comfortable chair, you paused. An animal’s skull sat upon the railing.

Instead of freaking out, you were completely confused. That wasn’t there a moment ago. The glass was set down by your book. Carefully, you stepped up the random skull and peered at it closely.

It was a predator by the looks of the teeth. A canine as well. If you had to guess, it was a wolf’s skull. Amazed by the fact there was a wolf’s skull in front of you yet completely puzzled on how it got here in the span of five minutes tops. You’re on the second story. It’s not like it could fall from the sky or someone just randomly set it there.

This was purposefully.

As much as you wanted to walk away from it, you didn’t want it to fall and break. Or someone else to have it. You glanced around the tree line to possibly search for the owner or a reason to why it was here. You came up empty handed. A sigh left your lips when nothing was in sight. You carefully picked it up and brought it inside with you.

A look around the interior brought upon a place to set it on. One of the shelves in the living room. All you had to do was shift a couple of books and other décor out of the way. Once it sat upon the shelf, you stood back and admired the skull in its new home.

What was someone else’s garbage is your new treasure.

While standing there, you felt the watchful gaze of someone again. Your head snapped back over to the open balcony door only to find nothing there, eyes narrowing. You marched over to the sliding glass door then stopped.

Something was… off.

A shiver ran down your spine the longer you stood there. It took a moment for your senses to finally feel the presence of someone in front of you. Your entire body tensed up before you ripped the glass door closed. So hard, you were surprised it didn’t shatter before you. The lock was thrown. You stumbled away from the closed door, eyes wide as you stared in terror.

There was something you couldn’t see. You felt it. A heat rolling off that invisible thing. What was that?! You trembled in the middle of your living room like scared prey. What you couldn’t see terrified you. Eyes blown wide.

Whatever there moved. The thing moved. You watched as the air rippled, distorted before your eyes as it unrooted from its spot. The figure stepped up to the railing then leaped over it. Then, it was gone. You rushed forward and swiftly shut your curtains before it could return to watch you again.

To calm your racing heart, you leaned against the curtains and placed a hand on your chest. Your heart on the verge of beating out. The feeling it gave you… You felt like prey amidst a hunter.

Once you calmed down enough, you pulled away from the glass door about to head to your bedroom when you remembered something. “Fuck,” you cursed. Your book was still laying on the coffee table! And, you were in a good spot as well.

A stupid, stupid idea came to mind. You peered around the curtains and saw the coast was still clear. When your gaze snapped to the coffee table… the book was gone! Your jaw dropped. Anger flared inside of you.

“You motherfucker! Stealing my book. I was in a good spot,” you screamed, hopefully whatever that thing was could hear you. Not only did it scare you but it stole your book. Oh, you were furious now. No one steels your books.

From the outside, the Yautja could still hear your shouts after the terror Vic’tao caused you. Neither of them expected less. Uihoy was entertaining Vic’tao’s fascination. What would have a Yautja interested like this. Even Uihoy himself was curious.

“Looks like the ooman took it well,” Uihoy teased his mate and patted the mustard yellow Yautja on the shoulder. The two of them still had their cloaks activated. They didn’t want their presence known to anyone besides their intended target. Vic’tao huffed and shook off Uihoy’s grip with a unseen glare thrown his way.

“Oh shush. I knew this was to happen. Oomans are prey.” Then, he lifted up the book he snatched from their target. “Look at what I got. We can learn more about the ooman.”

A deadpanned fell upon the older Yautja behind his biomask. “You stole a book.”

Vic’tao gave a scoff and purposefully shook his tresses to make them rattle. “This ooman. I want to learn more about him. Like some of things they teach you on the mothership. Oh, wait, you weren’t born on a mothership,” Vic’tao teased. All jester between the two male Yautjas

Their beginning may have started off rocky with disgust of the other, here they are.

Then, the yellow male wapped Uihoy with the book. “Learn about your target, yes? They should’ve at least taught you that.” Despite a hateful start to their relationship, they now can joke about their cultural differences. “You never know. Maybe this book has information about our target.”

Uihoy groaned and lulled his head backwards. “Dumbass, you can’t even read any of the ooman languages,” he grunted then tilted his head back to look at him.

Vic’tao raised a finger to tell the purple Yautja off, sucking in a breath before falling flat. He glanced down at the paper book in his hand and slumped on his shoulders. “I hate it when you’re right,” he mumbled, ready to throw the book when an idea struck him. “Wait! We can translate it back on the ship.” Their ship, more like Uihoy’s, had the capabilities to translate any known language into Yautja.

Another deadpanned look was thrown at Vic’tao who couldn’t see it. “Or, you can use your gauntlet,” he offered instead and tapped at the mentioned device. “This wonderful technology that be entirely versatile or did they only teach you basic hunting skills at the moment.” Vic’tao scoffed then stood up on the branch they each shared. Uihoy followed suit.

In one moment, Uihoy was free. The very next, Vic’tao pinned his into the trunk of the tree. A tight grasp wrapped around the purple Yautja’s throat and trapped him to the tree. Though, the Yautja was short, he wasn’t one to be messed with.

“I’ve got you stuck here, don’t I?” he rumbled into his ear, eyes gleaming behind his biomask.

The ground left Vic’tao’s feet. His back met the rough texture of bark, biting into his scales. Above him, Uihoy had him pinned instead. “Checkmate.”

A few days have passed since that incident occurred. Your book was long gone at this point. Another had been ordered and should be arriving in the next day or two. Despite your apprehension to leave home to go to work, you’ve pushed through and left the very next day for a stupid paycheck.

Nothing happened. No eyes. No feelings of being watched. Nor the next day. It too was free from that torment. Even on the fourth day, today, nothing has happened.

That caused you to question if it happened at all. If it wasn’t for the skull and missing book, you would’ve believed it was a fluke. A nightmare that you don’t remember waking from. Only it happening and now haunting you. The book, you could brush off as miss placing it someone stealing it from work. Besides that, the skull was your hard evidence.

Never had have you ever seen a wolf, let alone its own skull. The whole thing mystified you. All you could do in the end of scratch your head about it. How in the world does this happen to you?

Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of people in your town and this thing targets you.

Now wasn’t the time to maul over your misfortune of the situation. With a sigh, you stepped out into the hallway. Your foot knocked into something on the ground. A brow quirked up as you glanced down only to find a box on the doormat. Confused, you picked it up off the ground.

It wasn’t a package. It looked like someone just randomly dropped off a box. The box itself wasn’t big. At most a foot wide and long barely even three inches tall. You checked the time on your phone really quickly before spinning on your heel and going back into your apartment. The closed behind you. You walked over to the dining table and set it down.

A short list of people who could’ve dropped it off listed off inside of your head. Yet, you felt like any of them would’ve notified you of the package. With your lips pressed tightly in a line, you carefully pulled the top of the box off.

The lid fell from your grasp before falling to the ground with a light tap.

Bones filled the small box. Horror flashed over your features. What the fuck?! You stumbled back and knocked into the kitchen counter behind you. Bones. But from what? Animal or-or human? A full body tremble raked your body.

The first thought to enter your frenzy brain was to call the police. Then rational thinking rose to the surface. They would think it was you or they may think you as crazy if these aren’t human. What were you suppose to do now? You’ve got work in less than thirty minutes and some crazy person dr-was it that thing you saw a couple of days ago?

A cold sweat rolled down your back. You had hoped it was only a one-time issue… not a recurring stalker. Wait. Do you have a stalker? Is this considered stalking?

You took a deep breath then quickly threw the box into the garbage. The bones rattled as they fell into their new and forever home. You shuttered at the sound, praying they weren’t human and damning yourself to throwing away evidence. Evidence that could paint you as the killer if they were. You ran your fingers through your hair before marching out of the door for work. Not another second to be wasted.

From his corner inside the ooman’s dwelling, Vic’tao bristled when they threw away the gift he graciously offered. He hunted down dangerous beasts for those bones and presented them to you. Then, you cast them aside.

Strange enough, you accepted the skull but refused the rib bones and femur packaged away in that box. It stumped the yellow Yautja as he meandered over to where you carelessly discarded the bones. The skull was set upon a shelve in the main room of your small dwelling. He moved over to it and peered at it. What made it different to be accepted rather than the other bones he offered to you?

He tasted your fear in the air and shrugged it off. Not that he was expecting less from a weaker creature such as yourself. Yet, there was something about you that caught his attention. Vic’tao had to try and win your hand and favor.

When you returned home, you set your keys and bag down on the kitchen counter. A peak into the garbage revealed the box was still there. Another tremble racked your body.

All day, you had hoped it was just a strange daydream or some hallucination. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

When you’re about to enter your bedroom, something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. You screeched to a halt, head whipping to find the balcony curtains opened. Just wide enough to reveal another white, shiny skull sitting on the small coffee table. Long, sharp canines veered from its mouth. Empty, eyeless sockets staring at you.

Your feet froze to the spot, refusing to move. All you could do was stare in terror at the sight.

This was purposeful. Someone was doing this on purpose. Tormenting you.

After you gained function of your limbs, you raced into your bedroom and slammed it shut behind you. The door rattling on the hinges from the force you exerted. Your back is pressed to it to ensure it stays in that same position. Your chest heaved with lungful breaths.

Vic’tao tilted his head at your reaction and huffed. Oomans are completely bewildering. Last time, you liked and accepted the last skull. So, he pulled another from his collection and even set it out in perfect sight for you. Then, you go ahead and act terrified of it.

The younger Yautja grunted and marched outside to retrieve it. This time, he held it in his hands and stood in front of the door you closed. His cloak revealing himself to the empty room. Like a patient hunter, he waited for the time to strike.

Inside of your bedroom, you heard a noise come from your living room and tensed up. What was that? You gnawed on your bottom lip then slowly pulled open the door. With it being dark, it was hard to peer through the darkness. Yet, from what you could tell, nothing had changed. You released a sigh of relief and took a step out of your room.

Only to freeze when you heard clicking. Not mechanical. As if something or someone was making the sound. Then, your eyes adjusted even to spot a figure towering in front of you.

A scream ripped at your lips. Immediately, you threw your fist at what looked to its head only to be met with metal. Your hand throbbed immensely afterwards. You screamed again then spun on your heel and began to run away. Only to smack yourself into the doorframe. All you could see was darkness fill your vision… then nothing.

In a span of less than minute, you had somehow knocked yourself out cold after trying to attack him. He chittered to himself under his mask with an amused smirk. The yellow Yautja peered down at your lifeless body then glanced over to Uihoy. “Well, that went well,” he snarked before reaching down and scooping you up. It seems like you weren’t getting the message. So, Vic’tao would have to force you to understand.

Uihoy came over and grasped your limp chin then picked up your head. His other hand ran his thumb across your cheek bone. “They’re not bad looking,” he muttered mostly to himself then let you fall limb against Vic’tao again. He looked up at Vic’tao. “What’s your plan with him?”

“Since he doesn’t get the hint, I’m going to straight up tell him. If he accepts, he accepts. If he doesn’t, we’ll let him ago,” Vic’tao answered before securing the skull to his belt. Once that was settled, the younger male left through the sliding glass door and climbing to the room of these small, compact dwellings. Uihoy’s ship was at least three times the space inside than just your dwelling alone. If you were to accept their advantages, you would get a huge upgrade. Plus, two Yautjas to protect you from any harm.

A snort came from Uihoy as he shook his head. His short, greying tresses swayed with the movement. “This is a ooman you’re talking about. They aren’t the most knowledgeable nor wise,” Uihoy chuckled and followed Vic’tao through the back door. Said door was slid shut after him.

The two of them got on top of the apartments and entered their ship that was hovering just a few feet above the roof. No one was none the wiser to this.

Vic’tao took you to the common area and let you rest on the longest couch there. Uihoy took to the helm of their ship and flew it higher into the sky. Neither of them could risk any ooman seeing them or else… death to that ooman. You are a special case as they try to woo your hand.

A pounding in your head had you grasping it, blocking out the light shining down on you. A groan voiced from your throat as you strained to sit up and held your head in two hands.

Man, you must have start a wild night of drinking to have a headache like this. No wonder why you woke up with a raging migraine.

When you finally fight off the first wave of pain to hit you, you opened your eyes and glanced around. Confusion filled your head. What in the world? This isn’t place you’ve ever been to. Fuck, you must still be asleep… yet that pain felt so real.

A mechanical whooshing caught your attention. You whipped your head around. A grave mistake but pushed through the pain that flared up.

An imposing figure stood in the doorframe. Its height easily dwarfed yours. Your jaw dropped, ready to start screamed when a massive head covered your mouth. That only caused you to freak out more.

Harsh clicking entered the air. You stared wide up at the figure leaning over you from behind, spiting out growls at the other one. The lone form before you rolled its bright orange eyes and let’s its crossed arms fall. Then, it began to stalk closer towards you. You shouted from behind the hand and scrambled backwards, only to knock into the figure.

The purple one advancing one you stopped when the yellow one spat something at it. Then, yellow tilted its head down at you.

Four sharp fangs were all you could notice on its alien face. This wasn’t something on earth. You got kidnapped by aliens! The top two raised in some sort of grin. It clicked something at you but its alien tongue went straight over its head. The purple one made a snide comment to its friend who snarl, hand tensing around your mouth.

For a moment, you fear it would accidently snap your neck. Until its hand fully fell away. Yet, it stayed behind you. Now, you were trapped between the two of them, unable to move.

The creature behind you raised a finger, as if telling to wait a moment then moved over to a wall. Its fingers pressed against a hidden button. A hiss entered the air.

Before your very eyes, the wall started to retract panels. In sort of a strange transformation, the panels revealed a hidden compartment you were shocked to see. Before you grew nervous and disgusted. Skulls and bones lined the space in the wall… like a trophy wall. Were they showing the place they would soon put your skull? Are they going to kill you?!

You gasped and launched off of the couch. The purple one reacted quicker than you could even blink. It was upon you in a moment and shoved you back down on the oversized couch. You choked on air and stared up at the imposing figure. All it did was return the gaze in a lazy fashion. Like it was bored.

“What do you want?” you finally find your voice and asked them an important question. The purple creature tilted its head then pressed a button on its strange gauntlet. It held out the device towards you again and made a motion to go again. “What do you want?”

The only thing you could think of was a translator or something of the sort. You waited impatiently for the device to do its thing and repeat what you had said.

Yellow made its way over to the two of you leaned over the couch, entering your personal space a little too much. Instead of purple answer, the other one took the time to speak towards the gauntlet.

“We are trying to court you,” an automated voice repeated to you in English. Your brain blanked at the response, jaw dropping in shock.

“Court?! Like-like dating? What the fuck?” you practically screeched at the top of your lungs and sat up higher on the couch only to accidently knock into yellow. “You guys are monsters!”

Another pause as your words are translated to them. At first, you froze at the realization of your insulting words. They could possible still kill you if they felt like it. Specially, talking like that to them. You sat there, fretting if you just signed your death notice.

Instead, the beasts tilted their heads. “Not monsters. Yautja. We are Yautja. Yes, we like to court you. We are proud hunters who if you accept us, will protect and provide for you.” Yautja? Strange name for a species. That thought was kept to yourself before you damned yourself further.

Protect and provide. That actually for you thinking for the moment. Your eyes scanned the open area around you. Wherever they’ve taken you is spacious just in this spot alone. At least twice the size of your living room alone. They called themselves hunter which is evident by the many skulls adorning the nearby wall. There was even a skull that was about the size of you.

If they could take down something of that size… you swallowed down the lump in your throat. “Can I have time to think about this? Learn about you guys? Humans don’t just walk into relationships without learning about the other people first,” you questioned, nervously fretting with the hem of your shirt.

Yellow’s eyes brightened. The figure began to purr by the sounds of it and chuffed at its partner in crime.

Purple gave a thinking face. “I did not realize human customs were different than ours. We hadn’t thought of that." This came from yellow this time. It moved from around the couch then got down on its hunched and offered the skull you saw before.

Instead of being canine this time, you realized this must be feline or something close to it. You timidly reached out and accepted it from yellow. You were thankful it didn’t outright kill you at first and took that as a good sign. “Thank you.” Yellow lifted those upper two mandibles again at you. “Um, do-do you guys have names?”

This time, purple let his arm fall to not catch his next words. “Uihoy.” He pointed towards himself. Your eyes bulged out of your head. What in the world? Not a name from this world.

“Vic’tao.” Yellow joined in and motioned towards himself. How do they expect you to form those kind of names?

Embarrassed, you scratched the back of your neck. “Can you try that again?” you asked, hoping not the offend them any way possible.

For the next few moments, they helped your learned how to pronounce their alien names. In that moment, you learned quickly they meant no harm to you. They weren’t going to hurt you.

You waved goodbye after they dropped you off on the balcony of your apartment. Feeling a little giddy, you walked back inside and head towards your bedroom with a new skull. Despite all the fear you endured from them, they weren’t bad to hang around with. Maybe, once you grew to know them, you would allow for this to continued.

[ficmashup]

Gardening

Summary: Ghost is moving into a new apartment and you just so happen to be the building's owner.

A/N: First dip into writing second person (I think that's the right term?) and I'm not sure if I don't like it or if it was just difficult for me. People who've read my Price fic in first person, please weigh in here. I need to know if this sounds weird or if it's just me. I might rewrite the whole thing in first person and see which feels better.

Warnings: Not much here...overworking? Slight fainting. Not edited.

Word Count: 3k+

Masterlist

The first time he sees you, your hands are elbow-deep in dirt and there’s more smeared over your face. It’s late afternoon and he’s heaving a duffel over his shoulder to head into his new apartment. It’s been a long time since he spent long in an apartment at all and by the time he came back to his old one, the building was being foreclosed. He’d never been one to couch surf and he wasn’t about to start now. Certainly not for a month. Jump to seeing you covered in dirt in front of his new apartment building.

He hesitates on the steps, watching you a moment longer while you grumble to yourself. You’re on your knees digging through a flowerbed as if digging for diamonds. “You alright?” He surprises himself by asking and almost keeps walking with the expectation that you won’t even answer, but you turn your face up to him in an instant. Your arm raises to block out the sun and you don’t even flinch as dirt rains down on you.

“Fine, thanks. Just a few roots being stubborn.” You give him a warm, welcoming smile that keeps him still a few moments longer. Long enough for you to scan the duffel on his back and the few boxes set on the ground by his truck. “Moving in?” He hesitates a moment before answering. He’s not in the habit of giving away information freely, but the conclusion is obvious enough. He nods once.

“Then you’re Simon Riley.” You pull your hands from the dirt as if they’re the ones who have taken root and wipe them off on your jeans while getting onto your feet. Trepidation begins creeping into his chest and he grips the strap of his bag over his shoulder a little tighter. “I’m the building’s owner. Nice to meet you in person.” You offer your dirt-smudged hand as you give him your name and he laxes slightly. He takes your hand, seeing approval flash through your eyes. He wonders briefly if offering your dirty hand was a test that he just passed.

“I’ll walk you to your place and make sure you have your keys. Need help carrying anything?” You offer and it’s clear you mean it.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He replies evenly and you nod before leading the way and expecting him to follow.

“I run a tight ship. Hope you read the rules about staying here because if you break any, I’ll throw you out on your ass.” You move around the entrance easily, clearly knowing where everything is without having to look. A little glance over your shoulder is all you give him to make sure he’s listening and you catch the slight upward tilt of his lips.

“Yes, ma’am. Read over things twice.” He answers honestly and you hum with approval before guiding him up the stairs. Something about the way you hold yourself, the easy confidence, the way you say orders and expect them to be followed, reminds him of Price and puts him a little more at ease.

“You’re on the edge of the building, so only one neighbor on the north side and another across the hall. Delaney is quiet and keeps to herself more often than not, but I let her play music on the roof with friends on Saturdays.” Your voice fills the halls and he notes that the place is very well-kept and clean. Even the windows are clear and gleaming. You go on, “Mr. Cruz across the hall can be a bit miserly, but other than mumbling about the newspaper and the state of the world, he’s harmless. His wife, on the other hand, is a shameless gossip. So I hope you’re not too bothered if you come home and see her peeking at you from her door.”

Simon hums a small laugh. “Don’t mind it. I’m not that interesting.”

“Pity. She’s been dying for a salacious neighbor since Beck moved out because her husband caught her with the nanny.” You quip instantly and amusement flits through Simon as you finally come to a stop in front of a dark green door. It’s quick work to unlock it and you push the door open, but don’t step inside. He likes that. It’s as if the second he signed the lease, this became his space and you won’t enter it until invited. “If you’d like to do me a favor and need some furniture, I have some in the basement from past tenants that I’d be glad to be rid of. Tell me if you’d like to look and I’ll take you. You have my number if you need anything else, but I’m usually around anyway.”

He enters the apartment and looks around at the empty space with a small sigh. It’s a good space with plenty of room and a view of the street below, but being in a new place feels like starting over. It’s a discomforting feeling given that nothing in his life has actually changed except for his address. But he turns towards you all the same and gives you another nod. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

You nod back and spare another moment to look him over. He’s not the first stray soldier that’s wandered into your building, but each one has been different. This one…this one might take quite a bit of coaxing. You give him another smile and see his body shift towards it just like he did the last time, as if your smile is sunlight he’s basking in. “Welcome home.”

*     *     *

The next time he sees you, you’re crouched on the stairs in front of a kid no more than eight-years-old. “It…hurts…” The little boy says between sobs with red smeared over his right knee. Probably from a nasty fall. Simon pauses on the next flight of stairs, looking down at you through the railing.

“Aw, yeah, I know it does. You’re being brave for me though.” Your voice is soft and gentle as you clean the blood away. “Bet that wimp Eric would be wailing this whole time, huh? Remember when he stubbed his toe and screamed for a minute straight?” There’s a little giggle and his heart squeezes at the sound.

The kid sniffles. “Yeah, I remember. He fell on the ground like he broke it or something.”

“That’s right.” You approve, smiling at him and reaching to the side where a first aid kit sits. “But I saw you play baseball and you didn’t even flinch when that pitcher hit you with the ball.”

“Yeah, that’s true. And that hurt!” The kid leans back a bit, relaxing as you distract him and I idly think about how many medics I’ve seen use the same tactic on wounded soldiers.

You finish cleaning up his knee and press a large band-aid to the ripped skin. “But you were so tough then and you were tough now. All done.” You muss his hair a bit and he giggles, slapping your hand away. “Now, what are we not going to do?”

The kid’s head droops. “Sprint up the stairs.”

“Smart kid. Now, wear that scrape with honor.” You tilt his chin up and he grins, sniffling again before leaning forward and giving you a hug.

“Thanks.” He squeezes tight before getting up and heading down the stairs at a slightly slower pace than running. A wait a moment as you pack up the things from your kit before heading down. Your head lifts and you smile at me, the same as the other day, and it strikes me just like it did then.

I clear my throat and tilt my head to where the kid went. “You seem to know everyone in this place.”

You hum and stand with the first aid kit in hand. “It’s my job to know everything that happens in this building.”

 He quirks a brow at you. “That’s not a position taken by most owners.”

“You should have easily learned by now that I’m not like most owners.” You quip instantly and are rewarded with a little upward twitch of his mouth.

“I was hoping you might have time to show me some of the furniture you mentioned?” He asks, unassuming and polite despite his size and clear musculature. It makes you like him a little more.

You nod and take a breath in the face of another task. “Sure. Let’s go.” You turn on your heel and start moving, Simon trailing behind with surprisingly soft footfalls. You jingle slightly with each step from the keys on your hip and he can’t help but think of a cat with a bell.

The basement is dark until you pull a heavy switch and illuminate a surprisingly large space littered with furniture. “Pick whatever you like and I’ll help you carry it up.”

“You ever stop working?” He asks and you can hear the amusement in his voice. You shrug a shoulder and lean against the wall beside the stairs as he slowly walks through the room.

“There’s always something to be done and no one else is going to do it.”

“You could hire people.”

You immediately roll your eyes. “Then I’d have to fix whatever they screw up. Better to do it myself and get it right the first time.” He exhales softly and you swear that it’s almost a soft laugh.

“You remind me of someone.” He says and pauses next to a little kitchen table with two chairs in pretty good condition.

Your head tilts and you give him a little smile as he glances over. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

This time, you get an actual chuckle. “From me, it’s a compliment.”

“Hm. Then thank you.” You’re not sure you want to know why it would be an insult coming from someone else. He knocks on the table and the wood makes a dull, solid clunk noise. He nods and apparently that means it’s passed inspection. He lifts it up into his arms with a grunt and surprise widens your eyes as he carries it towards the stairs. You clear the way, grabbing the two chairs and staring at him as he bypasses the elevator in favor of more stairs without making a sound. It’s not exactly professional the way your eyes linger on his muscular arms, the shifting of his back under his t-shirt, and especially not how his thighs fit his jeans oh-so-well.

He grunts again as he sets the table down in his apartment and you sidle in to set the chairs on either side. There’s almost nothing else in the apartment. There are a few blankets and books in the bedroom along with a few cushions on the floor of the living room facing a tv. That’s it. He certainly isn’t one to overdecorate. “Anything else?” You offer with a hand on you hip.

He nods once. “Mind another trip?”

You smile and start walking to the door. “I’d be glad to empty out my entire basement if you like. Seems like you need it anyway.” The corner of his mouth lifts.

“I suppose that’s true. I appreciate the help.” He says and his voice is deep, but gentle. You only grow more curious about him and during the few more trips up and down the stairs, you realize that this guy might need a bit more than a little help with living.

*     *     *

It starts slow.

A few neighbors start bringing him some food throughout the week. Leftovers, baked goods, all under the guise of welcoming him to the building. Then there’s a small flyer set outside his door for an estate sale nearby where he finds a few more things to make his apartment less sparse. It’s a tad overbearing, but in an amusing way and he finds he doesn’t mind. Something about being aggressively looked after reminds him of Soap’s family and any thought of the Scot is a welcome one. He has little doubt that the interference is due to your instruction. You run this building better than most people in charge of the military.

His favorite spot in the apartment becomes the little window seat in the living room. It has a good view of the street and without fail, he gets a glimpse of you working in the flowerbeds in the front of the building. On the nicer days, he’ll even crack the window to hear you cussing at your rosebushes. But you’re a little quiet one day, moving slow, still working amongst the thorns in jean shorts and a tank-top dark with sweat. When you stand and wobble in place, he puts down the book he was pretending to read.

You heave a breath and wipe sweat off your brow before grabbing onto the railing leading into the building. Ugh, it’s hot. The sun is beating down like a physical weight and your sunhat is currently somewhere in Delaney’s apartment after her girlfriend borrowed it. Best to just bear the expense and get another one. “You run yourself ragged.” That deep voice disturbs your thoughts and your head lifts to see Simon standing there with a water bottle held out to you.

A soft laugh leaves your lips as you gratefully accept the water and settle on the steps. “Too much to do to stop. Thank you for this.” The bottle is blissfully cold as you press it to your neck and take a deep breath of relief.

Simon moves across from you and leans on the railing, looking you over. Something you’ve noticed is how careful he is to give you space. He never comes too close. “I’ve seen you running around the building at least three times today. Once unclogging the garbage chute, the second time greasing the hinges of a door down the hall, and the third—” He gestures to rosebushes you were just digging in.

You finish drinking half the water and raise a brow at him with a teasing glint in your eye. “Keeping track of me?”

His lips part, but he’s interrupted before he can say a word. “Sweetie, my air conditioner is on the fritz again.” An older woman peeks out of the front door and Simon recognizes Mrs. Cruz from across the hall. She scrutinizes him through her big glasses before blinking innocently back at you.

You sigh, but nod. “Alright, Mrs. Cruz. I’ll be there right away.” She shuffles back into the building while you heave yourself up onto your feet and your vision immediately goes black. It almost feels like you’re outside your body as you feel it sway backward before a large hand slides onto your lower back and another grips your arm. Your hand tightens on the railing as your eyes snap open, the world swimming in front of you.

“Steady, now.” A pair of concerned eyes are the first thing you see as your vision clears. “Let’s get you inside.” He moves closer and begins to stoop, but you grab his shirt in a fist.

“You are not picking me up.” You grind out, every word a command. Not in front of your building, not by a tenant, not with Mrs. Cruz waiting inside who would assuredly spread every type of rumor she could about the scene. “Just…walk inside with me.” He hesitates a beat before straightening and letting you use his arm and the railing to get back into the building. You shoot a smile towards Mrs. Cruz waiting exactly where you expected her. “I need my tools, but I’ll be along in just a minute.”

Her eyes squint, but she nods a moment later before vanishing into the elevator. “Slowly and steadily, then.” Simon murmurs with his hands gentle and sure as he moves you towards your office in the back. You hold your tongue despite the desire to insist that you do not need help because you very clearly do. Still, you can’t hold back your heavy sigh as you both slowly walk back and he helps you settle into your office chair.

“Thank you.” You murmur, pride a little wounded but ultimately grateful you didn’t have to crawl in here. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Then I’ll head up to help Mrs. Cruz.” Your head shakes as you make yourself drink the rest of your water while taking some steadying breaths.

“Unfortunate we’re not closer to my apartment. I’d give you something one of my neighbors gifted me earlier this week.” Simon comments with amusement lacing his tone. Maybe you weren’t as subtle about filling his pantry as you thought you were.

“I ate today. Just pushed a little too hard in the heat. That’s all.”

“Mm.” He hums, watching you from the doorway with the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “A habit of yours?”

You can’t resist returning his near smile. “Practically my occupation.”

He huffs a small laugh before clearing his throat as if trying to hide it. The fact makes you smile a little wider. “I’ll get you another water, then walk with you up the stairs.”

“Oh, there’s really no need—” But he’s already walked out. You sigh again, relaxing back into the chair and closing your eyes for a few moments. Time passes, a bit too long than it should have taken, but when you open your eyes there’s another water in front of you and no Simon. You feel a bit better and rise from your seat with a groan, grabbing your toolkit and heading up to Mrs. Cruz. But it’s an utter surprise when you get to her apartment to find the usual whir of her air conditioning uninterrupted.

“That handsome man across the hall had it fixed in a few minutes. Didn’t complain or say much other than asking what the problem was.” Mrs. Cruz reports with rare approval in her voice. Mr. Cruz grumbles quietly from his usual seat in his favorite armchair. You sigh and glance out the door towards Simon’s apartment with a hand on your hip and a half-smile. Seems you’re not the only one keen to help. Whether it’s asked for or not.

(Lmk if you want to be tagged in future installments of this!)

[writella]

Hi! @sinsandsweetness mentioned you when I had requested something from them. Theirs was just so wonderful and needed that day.

I was wondering if you would be comfortable doing a variation of that idea. Daryl x fem!reader, gentle smut while reader needs some comfort and closeness. I understand if you wouldn’t want to.

Thank you so much.

Hi! ♡ Sure :) I can do that. Perhaps I can use it as an exercise for myself to write something shorter. I think this came out a little more fluffy than maybe you might have wanted but I still added in everything! Let me know what you think! And thank you so much for being my first anon and first request- this was so exciting for me!

Also, for any other readers, I ended up not needing to use pronouns so you can consider this afab!reader, but you can still picture it as a fem!reader, anon, it still works both ways. ♡

This includes some smut, soft!Daryl, both reader and Daryl feeling down, and both of them expressing their care for one another.

Your bedroom window is always three inches open. You knew Daryl could get through without the help, but him coming into your room at night had become a recognized habit, so you decided it was best to do it anyway. It was a sign that he was welcomed, that he didn’t always have to sneak in for whatever reason he did. You would have always let him in. He should have known that.

You didn’t question it though, talking about your feelings to him wasn’t your strong suit either. Especially not tonight when the light breeze blowing from your window touched the tears rolling down your cheek, making them chill.

You turned from it, just in case Daryl decided to come that night. You didn’t want to worry him or seem like a child. Bad things happen everyday in this world. You don’t see anyone else at camp crying all the time. Yet there you were, finding it hard to shake these feelings for the third night in a row.

You heard the sliding of the glass now, Daryl’s finger pressing up on the window to make it wider. He held the sides and put his legs through first. Normally this would have been seamless and silent, but Daryl was getting comfortable with this routine, becoming more lax with his stealth in this case.

You wiped your tears quietly, your hand movements very slow, not daring to move too far to the sides just in case he saw your fingers. You hoped he would just think you’re awake but not crying.

“You up?” He asks, his voice is a whisper, but nonetheless you hear his ever present rasp.

“Yes,”

He takes off his shoes, and his pants, and his vest, hanging it on the hooks of the back of your door. He sits on your bed then, just on the corner, his hands on his knees, motionless.

You look up at him, trying your best to make your inhale not sound like a sniffle. “Daryl?”

“Hm,”

“Are you okay?”

“Are you?” It’s a retort, but he says it just as genuinely and softly as you asked. “Why were you crying?”

You’re silent for a minute. Why is it as if you have all the words when you are alone, but the second someone is around, the second that someone shows they care, you are wordless? Your mind is so heavy, the thoughts spiraling, but your mouth is completely empty and dry. Speaking becomes impossible now. “I don’t know,” is all you can say.

You come up to him and sit beside him. He only looks at you quickly through the corners of his eyes, but keeps his head down, his hair in his face.

You hold his opposite shoulder and his leg and move your head into the crux of his neck, closing your eyes. Your hand then moves to his cheek, gently brushing up and down, feeling the bristles of his facial hair. It makes him lean into you.

Finally, his head turns to your face, your hand still resting at the side of his. Your thumb brushes over his sad eyes and his lips and he wipes your slow coming tears.

He kisses your nose, rubbing his into yours, until he starts to kiss your lips. His hand comes to your jaw and neck as he deepens it, laying you on the bed. The two of you move upwards until you reach your pillow again.

He delicately takes off your shirt, and pants, and underwear and you try to help him do the same.

He lays on you now and you hold his head and neck. His hands are at your hips as he slowly presses down on you, moving. You press up into him. He kisses your neck, peppering it lightly.

Afterwards, he pushes himself inside of you and moves only a little until his motions stop. His arms and body wrapping around you in totality. Your arms try their best to reach everywhere on his back, your movements so slow, delicate, and tender. You untangle pieces of his hair softly. He is inside of you, but truly you are hugging, embracing each other with love.

As a moment passes you finally whisper, “It’s so hard to pretend everything is okay all the time.”

You’re on the verge of tears again as you admit it. “There are things about the past that I don’t want back, ever, but some days I just really wish we didn’t have to fight… sometimes I just get so tired… sometimes I think I would-”

A scary thought comes that you decide not to share.

Daryl looks at you now, holding your head. It’s almost as if his hands are just that big as he holds both sides. You feel the warmth radiating off of them to your cheeks and your ears. He puts his forehead against yours, sending all his love through to you. “We don’t gotta pretend in here.”

He kisses your lips again, it’s sweet and light. You’ve never felt him do it like this before.

He begins to truly move inside you now. Your arms wrap around his middle back, it’s like you’re still hugging until he takes your hands in his, resting them parallel to your head as he holds on and he pumps just a bit faster, creating a deep and steady rhythm.

His head is curled into your neck as you sigh into him, his body making you feel a release from your worries. It causes him to meet your eyes again but they are closed. He kisses you once more, ‘I love you,’ his lips are truly saying as they melt into you, ‘It’ll be okay. I’ll make it okay. Just for you.’

[nonsensology]

So I've had these Grunkle Stan crackships on my mind for almost a year now. Could be interpreted as platonic, but I think there's great and fascinating potential if interpreted fully romantic. Full musings and explanations below (Warning: very disjointed and random).

Uncle Chan from Jackie Chan Adventures

Maybe Ford and Stan stumble across the Chans on one of their globe-trotting adventures. Both groups fight off the same supernatural threat and surprise each other with their ease and familiarity with the weird and fantastical.

I feel Uncle is kind of a weird in-between of Ford and Stan. He is knowledgeable but not a nerd like Ford, is generally cranky but doesn't get into trouble like Stan does, although he does have a level of disregard towards authority if it gets in the way of his goals. He's quick to do research instead of impulsively charging into a situation.

I think Uncle's dynamic with Stan would be hilarious. They would argue a lot on how to deal with a threat, but once they agree to work together, they could kick ass. Once he gets past his initial annoyance, Stan would probably enjoy Uncle's quips, even more so when he realizes that Uncle does not say them to be funny, he's just naturally snarky.

Uncle is never shown having any romantic interest or relationships, so I kind of headcanon him as ace, but I think it would be really interesting to see what kind of queerplatonic relationship he and Stan could form.

Jade and Mabel would probably hit it off immediately, and while Jade isn't as studious as Dipper, she also has an enthusiasm for the supernatural so she'd probably get along decently with him. She'd also probably think Stan and Ford are super cool, especially considering their lax attitude toward giving children weapons. Though they do still take the kids' safety very seriously.

Jackie is doubtful of Stan, much like he was with Viper, but seeing Stan look out for the kids would probably endear him a little. Ford might also help ease his worries, and maybe they both could have fun discussion about archeology.

I think Tohru and Soos could get along decently, though Tohru would find Soos' eccentric musings odd at first.

Additionally, Uncle's shop is in San Francisco, practically next door to Dipper and Mabel in Piedmont. The kids would easily visit each other every weekend.

Bruno Madrigal from Encanto

Stan has been to prison in Colombia, so I don't think he'd willingly travel there for fun, and Encanto Valley seems relatively closed off from the rest of the world, so I imagine their meeting is accidental, maybe a result of the Stans getting caught in a storm or something. They stay for a while in the valley while repairing their boat.

Stan might initially be outraged at the idea of the Madrigals not charging anyone for the use of their gifts, but perhaps lightens up when he sees how close-knit the community is. He'd still come up with ways they could show off their powers Mystery Shack style, probably butting heads with Alma in the process, lol. He might encourage Bruno to adapt a more showman-like approach to his seer abilities to make it more presentable and less intimidating.

Bruno and Stan connecting over their shared feelings of isolation from family is definitely what drew me to these two together in the first place. If they ever got serious about their relationship, I can imagine the biggest hurdle would be deciding if they should continue a long-distance relationship, since neither is keen on asking the other to be separated from their family.

Yuuko Ichihara from xxxHolic and Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle

Major spoiler alerts for both series. It's been many years since I've read them, and Tsubasa had so many plot twists that even CLAMP (the writers) admitted they were confused by the end result. I also might be misremembering some details, so bear with me. Factoring in the plotlines for both series and Gravity Falls would make for an incredible AU fanfic that I unfortunately am not qualified to write.

Due to Yuuko's shop being in Tokyo, a whole ocean away from Oregon, I like to imagine some timey-wimey space mumbo jumbo allowing Yuuko and Stan to meet in the dream realm. Maybe at some point, Yuuko's shop would obtain a door connecting it to the Mystery Shack.

Stan and Yuuko both have a mischievous side, though Yuuko is generally more reserved. They could start out as drinking buddies, though I imagine Stan would probably favor a light beer, while Yuuko loves sake.

They also both use aliases (it is never revealed what Yuuko's real name is), but Yuuko would likely be upfront about it. As their relationship progresses, Stan would probably feel comfortable telling Yuuko his real first name, even after she tells him the supernatural dangers of giving your real name.

While Stan scams his customers, he generally sells harmless entertainment and trinkets, whereas Yuuko grants wishes and operates strictly on an equivalent exchange basis. To quote the wiki, "All of Yuuko's customers must pay a price in order to grant their wishes, which can be no more or no less than the one demanded, or else harm will come to one's way. She is not one to tell the customer the most direct way to solve their problems because in the end, it can only be solved with that person's own realization and resolution to change themselves... Her abilities are not unlimited and may almost seem like a curse as it appears that she is unable to do anything for anyone or grant any gift (other than feelings) without it becoming a binding transaction." 

When Stan finds out just how powerful Yuuko is, I think he might react with a mixture of hesitation and awe, especially when she reveals she knows about his past, and Ford being lost in the multiverse. I am on the fence on whether Yuuko would use her powers to bring Ford home sooner, or let Stan continue working on the portal because he's already close to completing it and this would be significant in defeating Bill.

I found that the main villain of Tsubasa, Fei Wang Reed, surprisingly parallels Stan. Both endanger reality to bring back someone who is lost, but while Stan does it out of love and devotion to his family, Fei Wang Reed only did it in an arrogant plan to prove himself a powerful sorcerer. And in Fei's case, the person is already dead. CLAMP's universe establishes that the dead cannot be brought back to life, and Fei's wish to do so would cause the universe to be destroyed. I wonder if Bill would factor Fei as part of his plans.

Stan also surprisingly shares a lot in common with Fai D Fluorite. Both use their twin's name (Fai's real name is Yuui), and for much of the series Fai's tragic backstory regarding his twin is unknown, and he hides his trauma under a laid back exterior. I think Stan would empathize a lot with Fai, after he finds out his backstory.

Kimihiro Watanuki is revealed to have been created to fill a void left by Syaoran after the latter wished to turn back time. I remember Watanuki's character arc involved realizing that people cared about him. "Don't disappear", "Continue existing". Stan would probably take Watanuki under his wing, much like he did with Soos. Watanuki might find life with the Pines family far more chaotic than he's used to, but slowly warm up.

Yuuko is revealed to have died a long time ago and has basically been in magical stasis due to Clow Reed's unintentional wish. When time finally moves forward again, Yuuko eventually passes on. She doesn't return in the canon series, but Watanuki is stated to have also suspended his time to wait for her return. In this AU, maybe she reincarnates in the past and reunites with Stan and the Pines in the present day.

[blushblushbear]

hihi!! can you write poe, cashew, and Cole general relationship hcs? ty!!!

*scurries away*

Poe:

he's very chill but committed

he's not the type to have your pic as his phone background

but he IS the type to have it be an artisty black and white photo of a handwritten poem that he wrote about you and also maybe there's a rose

his energy is very lax but don't let that fool you

he's INSANELY committed

will probably try and talk you into a cemetery date (it's just so Mary Shelley losing her virginity on her mother's grave ya know??)

will try and work some element that reminds him of you into his jewelry

would never ask this but he thinks it would be wicked romantic if you painted his nails for him

very interested in going new places and seeing new things with you

he wants to experience interesting places in this world but mostly he wants to see said places with you

the amount of poems he shows you are only the tip of the ice berg as far as what he actually writes

though he still is the most open about his writing with you

low key thinks about you a lot and regularly checks his phone for you texts and is constantly wondering if he should text first or if that would be too clingy...

Cashew:

IS the type to have you as his phone background lol

Poe is very smitten but subtle about it (until you get him talking which is it's own challenge sometimes cause he likes to keep to himself)

Cash is the exact opposite

the whole world will know seconds of him walking into a room that he's dating someone

has tons of pictures of you around everywhere

uses one as a bookmark

thinks of you all the time when reading romantic subplots

or plots

actually thinks about you a lot when reading

and all the time

loves to have a nightly call with you and talk about your days and what's going down in his most recent read (YOU WILL NEVER /GUESS/ WHO TURNED OUT TO BE EVIL)

tries really hard to do all the boyfriend cliches and does them all in earnest

sends you flowers quite a bit actually

he is just a little nerd who wants to be your Casanova so bad

also wants to see places and experience the world with you but unlike Poe it's like.... normal things (like Cash wants to go to the Eiffel Tower, Poe wants to go solo exploring through the catacombs of Paris/the court of miracles {ya know-- the place with all the dead people lining the walls! romantic! :D})

is always looking for anything fun or cute to do on a date with you

tries to write you poetry

it's--- sweet! :)

bless him

would never larp on his own but if invited to larp he would

also wants to go to a rein faire so bad

Cole:

oh boy this guy lol XD

seems like a very nice normal extremely devoted boyfriend

and he is

but he's also watching you sleep at night from your bedroom window and stole some of the hair out of your brush

"for personal use"

also tracks everything about you to the best of his abilities

keeps a list of everyone you regularly interact with 'just in case'

but also likes to randomly show up and do something sweet

he's the king of OH I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd say hi, I brought doughnuts!

everything he does is very sweet and attentive and thoughtful

well.... maybe not THOUGHTFUL

more like thought out

meticulously

also likes to hog your time as best he can but he tries to be subtle about it

will claim you loudly whenever being introduced to someone knew

'oh, yes hello, I'm Cole, their BOYFRIEND. It's nice to meet you."

is the listener in the conversations

he just loves taking you in

watching you constantly, hanging off your every word, keeping notes about the things that make you happy

I think you also take him aback every so often in ways he wasn't expecting

anytime you get very genuine with him or very loving or affectionate

he has this like--- it's like a weird sensation

like a weird euphoric rush

is it cause he likes seeing you at your most sincere and vulnerable??

or is this what being loved feels like????

is this what BEING in love feels like??????

it's pretty great! very addicting...

in his darkest moments he tries to think of you

you bring him a comfort he can't explain but has never really felt before

every now and then he just comes to you in a daze and clings to you

In one way or another, Cole's had a bad day

He gets a little scared how much he finds himself absorbed by you

and that fear hits him at the weirdest times sometimes

like you too were just having breakfast and this sudden feeling of inescapable dread came crashing in

but then you asked him what's up with that sweet little smile of yours and he's feeling okay again

lots of gifts that are little too personal

[eydi-andrius]

Can you keep it up? [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

cw/tw: flirty reader, bashful and irate Miguel, reader doesn't know boundaries, other spiderman/woman used to it and she's 100% supported by them, Lyla being her supportive AI ;)))), Unedited. Written on mobile. I just wanted to write this out of my system.

summary: Just you flirting your way to Miguel's pants' attention.

a/n: very self-serve fic. i understand if some lines would be cringey but that wasn't the point. the point is for Miguel to notice you or idk be tired of your antics. getting his attention is a win-win whether it was positive or negative. 😆

🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️

Does he know he's so hot when he walks that way?

You pouted as you watched Miguel walk towards Miles. Sitting leisurely on your makeshift web hammock, you watched how his firm muscle moves on his tracksuit and how it fits him perfectly. The tight leather wrapped his tempting body so beautifully and deliciously. His hips so small for a burly man, which you liked.

And please, don't get started with those sinful huge chests of his. It's so full, that you know if he cuddles you, he will swallow you whole. Not that you mind though.

For you, he is the perfect definition of tall, dark and handsome.

The only thing that was a turn off about him was his irate attitude. Yet, it's all right, you like your men with a bit of a challenge.

You know you should focus on whatever the reason why you were called by Lyla. Miguel never calls for you unless he is in a pinch. In fact, he called for everyone so it must have been an emergency. You kinda envy Lyla because she probably asked Miguel to say the word, "please" and teased him for it when he did admit he needed help. Maybe you should ask if she recorded it?

Well, the most important thing was, you're finally close to him again! It has been a while since you were allowed to be near him. When was it? Who cares really. He’s hotter now though. The temptation to climb him is back again. Well, the idea never left you in the first place.

—--

“You are staring way too much, girl." A static voice suddenly appeared near your left ear and you couldn't help the sigh of longing you have been holding out for quite some time.

"I know right? I'll do everything just to touch it. But we both know he will throw me away if I do something drastic again. Just like last time." You blinked and pouted as you watched how the fat muscle of his ass moved so hypnotizingly.

"Yeah true. I still wonder how you liked the guy though. His attitude is way less charming now compared to before." You two sighed in agreement.

"'Can you two, please stop talking about my behind when I'm literally just in front of the two of you?" He grumbled in annoyance as he showed his fangs in your direction.

"Can you say "Please" one more time, honey?" You gave him your best spidey puppy eyes. If he’s trying to intimidate you, well, it is working. Obviously, not the way he intended to.

All he replied was a disgusted, frustrated groan and marched away while dragging Pavitr. Probably to talk somewhere you can't look freely on his package.

How selfish, Mr. O’Hara.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wonder if Miguel will agree to princess carry you if you pay him a hundred bucks? Paying more is an option too. You’re not that stingy.

Maybe you should try asking him about it. Later? Tonight? Or probably after the mission?

Little did you know, Miguel has been calling your name while you were inside your head thinking of many ways you can make Miguel agree with your requests.

Your brows furrowed, eyes looking from afar. The spiderman with fangs can’t help but facepalm.

He can’t help but think that maybe it was wrong of him to request your assistance for this mission.

However, even though you were weird. And way into him, especially, his back and his ass. You worked way better than the other spiderman and spiderwoman. He used to hate you for being lazy and way too lax.

Yet, your method of working is 100% effective and easier than how he does his stuffs.

He has no choice but to do it.

He walked towards you until he was standing in front, less inches than he usually allows you to. He coughed to get your attention one last time, but you were way preoccupied and busy with whatever was inside your head.

He breathed in and with full strength held your shoulders and shook you. A normal person would probably die. However, doing it this way was the only effective way he knew to wake you up from your fantasies.

You screamed in terror and he was obligated to stop when you punched his hands holding your shoulder.

He was worried that he might have overdone it and he scared you. He just needed your attention and not scared you to death.

But little did he know that you screamed not because of terror but of surprise.

Miguel is in mere inches in front of you, holding your shoulders. You can practically smell his rich smell.

You are such a lucky girl.

Maybe he shook you way too hard but the only word you blurted out after a pregnant pause was……

“You are so fucking hot.” You uttered without blinking.

The collective of spider people sighed in relief. They were also worried that Miguel had made you stupid after that shake but you seem back to normal and functioning quite well.

“Gwen, you’ll go with me.” He grumbled and jumped without further ado.

Gwen was confused for a second but followed suit.

“Hey wait! Did you ask me to go with you!? HEY!” You followed closely behind them but failed when the entrance closed just after they jumped.

“Oh girlie, sometimes you gotta get out of your head when the prize is literally mere inches of you.”

Jessica shook her head and said those words with a grin. You were left flabbergasted when you realized you soiled your chance to work closely with Miguel because you daydream way too much.