#harder to solve a problem too when you are not even being asked about the ACTUAL problem constantly

[roguedemonwatcher]

A really underrated aspect to Ludinus plan is the exploitation of the god’s suppression of knowledge. The the thing that made sealing Predathos in the moon work so well the 1st time was the ignorance and superstition around it for so long, which lasted well beyond the divergence. We saw Judicators coming after the Grim Verity in this campaign! However, because of this, Ludinus had the upper hand the entire time because everyone was just scrambling to catch up to figure out shit he knew ages ago. 

It’s a big reason why keeping it sealed now would likely not work very well, to say nothing of re-containing it having some horrible implications (it took the titans and a chunk of Exandria to do it last time!). Knowledge of it simply creates a much more unstable environment on Exandria, even if kept in Ruidius.

Really, Bell's Hells downfall here (and everyone's, even on a meta level) was getting so caught up in Ludinus' motives, not his means. Finding out the answers to the risks and possibilities with Predathos would've helped formulate a plan or give them more ideas on how to approach this instead of having to wait till the 11th hour once it was upon them.

Anyway, a quick fix would've been to ditch Keyleth and hang with Ebenold Kai more.

[isabelckl]

meeting ellie in detention

nerdy ellie williams x popular fem!reader

detention has always been boring—until the last person you expected walks in. now you’re stuck in the same room, and it’s a lot harder to ignore her.

Detention. Again. Second time this month.

You’re slouched low in the hard plastic chair, spine curved in a way that probably screams "I give up," the edge of the desk digging uncomfortably into your ribs. One leg bounces under the table, the sole of your shoe scuffing softly against the floor with every twitch. The room smells faintly like Expo markers and teenage boredom, warm dust floating in streaks of light pouring through slatted blinds. The air conditioner hums in the ceiling like it’s trying too hard and still failing to cool anything down.

Your head hangs forward, a lazy weight, chin nearly touching your chest as you idly flick at the fake nail on your middle finger — the one that went flying across the cafeteria when you slapped the ever-loving shit out of Victoria during lunch. It clicks against your nailbed with each flick, a tiny, hollow sound that breaks the silence like a metronome for your regret.

You exhale sharply through your nose, lips twitching into a sour twist.

“I should’ve just let that bitch go,” you think to yourself, dragging your head back until it flops against the top of your seat with a dramatic, whispered groan.

The oversized clock on the wall ticks with cruel precision, every second dragging its heels like it's stuck in glue. The teacher — some substitute whose name you didn’t bother to catch — is half-asleep at their desk, hunched over a crossword puzzle or a book with the spine cracked flat. They're not even pretending to watch you. It's one of those afternoons where the heat makes everything slow, where even trouble feels sluggish and tired.

You’re just about to give in to the heaviness tugging at your eyelids, your cheek halfway to the cool surface of the desk, when the door creaks open with an uncertain squeal.

Your eyebrows lift.

Huh?

“You’re here,” you blurt out before you can catch the words, your voice cutting through the haze like a pebble tossed into still water. You sit up straighter, something in you crackling awake with sharp interest.

Ellie Williams steps into the room like she’s not sure if she belongs — the usual quiet type, always either with headphones on, a guitar slung across her back, or buried somewhere in the library behind a stack of sci-fi novels and sketchpads. Her eyes flit up and meet yours for a moment before darting away. Then she scans the room like she’s searching for the least cursed seat available.

“You can sit here,” you offer, nodding at the empty chair beside you. Your voice is casual, but there’s a flicker of curiosity you don’t bother hiding.

“I guess...” she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck with the palm of her hand. She moves like she’s being dragged by invisible strings — hesitant, stiff — and drops into the seat beside you like she’s expecting it to collapse underneath her.

You tilt your head, crossing your arms and letting your eyes roam, not subtle about it. Her flannel sleeves are rolled up, revealing a faint ink smudge near her wrist. There’s a nervous energy buzzing off her in low frequency, barely noticeable unless you’re this close.

“What?” you ask, a spark of challenge in your tone.

Ellie glances at you, brows drawing inward. “What?”

You squint like you’re staring at a half-finished painting, trying to figure out what’s missing. “Nothing. Just… Ellie Williams, in detention, here with me? You’re like the last person I expected to see.”

She stares at you for a second, then looks away, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know you knew my name,” she says, soft and matter-of-fact, like that’s what surprised her the most.

You let out a small, amused laugh. “Of course I know your name. We’re classmates in like… two subjects. You sit three rows over in Calc, always solving problems before the teacher even finishes writing them on the board.”

Ellie shrugs, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her jeans. She looks like you’ve just peeled back something she’s spent years sewing shut.

“So what did you do?” you ask, leaning in just slightly, eyes gleaming with interest. “Come on, I need something to keep me entertained.”

She gives you a look, equal parts wary and annoyed. “No.”

“Oh, come on. I just wanna know what got you here. I mean, I’m here because I bitch-slapped Victoria for spreading a fake rumor about me.” You say it like a badge of honor, chin lifted slightly. “Your turn.”

Ellie lets out a breath, glancing down at her hands again. Her nails are short, bitten at the edges. She chuckles quietly, a low, sheepish sound. “It’s lame.”

“Come on,” you nudge her with your elbow, grinning now.

She doesn’t respond, just offers the ghost of a smile and goes back to staring at the graffiti scratched into the desk.

You sigh and flop back into your seat again. “Fine. I get it. First time in detention. Gotta preserve your image.”

She side-eyes you, and this time, there’s a smirk pulling at her mouth like she’s trying to suppress it. “Why would you think I’m the last person you’d see here?” she asks, her voice lower, curious.

You scoff under your breath and rest your arm on the back of her chair like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Because you’re just... good.”

Her brow arches.

“I mean, a great example of a model student,” you continue, motioning vaguely in her direction. “You’re, like, top of our calculus class, probably gonna graduate with honors or whatever. And you draw, right? I saw some of your stuff in art class. The charcoal sketches.”

She stares at you now, like she’s hearing you through a tunnel. “You knew that?” she says, voice soft with disbelief.

“Yeah.” You roll your eyes a little, but there’s no bite in it. “I pay attention.”

Ellie smiles — not fully, just a quiet, private curve of her lips — and bites the inside of her cheek like she’s trying to hide it.

“No talking,” the teacher calls out without lifting their eyes.

You roll your eyes again and settle into silence, the kind that’s thick but not uncomfortable. The ticking clock sounds louder now, each second ricocheting off the pale classroom walls. Somewhere outside, a locker slams shut, followed by faint, echoing laughter. But your focus is stuck on the girl next to you — the way her fingers drum softly against the desk, the quiet way she breathes, how her knee is still barely an inch from yours.

You rest your chin in your hand, elbow propped on the desk, still watching her. Ellie stares straight ahead like she’s forcing herself not to glance your way. Like she can feel you looking and isn’t sure what to do about it.

“So...” you murmur, voice low and casual, “are you doing anything later?”

Ellie turns her head a fraction. “Uh, nothing... I think. Why?”

“Wanna go to a party with me? Just a house thing at Kendra’s.”

She blinks, clearly caught off guard, and gives you a look like you just asked her to go skydiving. “Why would I go to a party with you?”

You shrug, leaning back. “Nothing serious. Just wondered. Have you ever been to one?”

“Well... yeah. But not the kind of party you’re talking about.”

You squint, amused now. “And what kind is that?”

She shrugs, but there’s a glint in her eyes. “The ‘your kind’ kind. You know... boys and stuff.”

You snort. “Boys and stuff? Seriously?”

Ellie shrugs again, her smirk widening just enough to make your stomach flip.

“No one’s gonna make you do anything, y’know,” you add, raising an eyebrow at her, voice softer now, like an unspoken promise.

She hesitates, her eyes flicking to yours, then down to her lap. The pause stretches — not uncomfortable, just thoughtful — and then she nods slowly.

“I guess so. I could come.”

“Great. It'll be fun,” you say, a grin tugging at your lips as you lean back, arms crossing. There’s a fizz of electricity in your chest now, subtle but undeniable.

There’s a pause again — not awkward, just… still. The kind that stretches long enough for you to start wondering what’s going on in her head. You glance over, your voice a little softer now, curious instead of teasing.

“So... do you, like, have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”

Ellie lets out a low laugh — short and breathy, like you caught her off guard. “Nah. Why?”

You lean your shoulder against the back of your chair, studying her expression as if it might give something away. “What’s your type, then?” you ask, tossing it out like it’s no big deal, like it’s just a casual, meaningless question — even though it kind of isn’t.

She glances at you sideways, her brow arching. “Why are you asking me that?”

You smirk, shrugging lazily. “So I can set you up with someone later. Maybe.”

Ellie scoffs, rolling her eyes — but there’s no real bite to it. “Didn’t you just say no one’s gonna make me do anything? And now you’re trying to play matchmaker?”

“I just wanna try,” you say, nudging her foot lightly under the desk. “C’mon, it'd be cute.”

She shakes her head slowly, but there’s a smile creeping onto her lips — small, like she’s trying to hold it back but failing. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Then, quieter this time, eyes fixed on the grain of the wooden desk, she says, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

You nod, and it’s not teasing now — there’s something softer in the way you do it, something that says you’re listening. That maybe you understand more than you’re letting on.

She glances up, eyes flicking toward you, just a little narrower now. Like she’s testing the waters. “How about you? Nathan?”

You blink, caught off guard, then immediately grimace. “Nathan? Nathan fucking Walsh? No way. Do people seriously think we hooked up?”

Ellie doesn’t answer — just lifts her eyebrows like, You tell me.

You groan, scrubbing a hand over your face. “Ugh, that’s a no. Like, a no-in-hell situation. I’d rather set myself on fire.”

Ellie actually laughs — a real one this time. It spills out of her unfiltered, her head tilting back just slightly. It’s soft, a little scratchy, and it warms something in your chest.

You can’t help but grin, cheeks already aching. “So… you’re coming with me later?”

She looks at you, really looks this time — like she’s trying to figure out what the hell she just got herself into. Her eyes flick between yours and the floor before she finally nods once.

“Yeah. Okay.”

The music is already pulsing through the house by the time you catch sight of her. It spills out the front door in a steady, throbbing rhythm, matched only by the flicker of string lights and silhouettes moving behind fogged-up windows. Ellie steps in with a slight hesitation, like the air is thicker here — like she’s walking into somewhere she’s not sure she belongs, but she's here anyway. A red solo cup is cradled loosely in her hand. Her shoulders are squared, jaw set, but her eyes move like she’s absorbing everything, scanning for a place to land.

Then they find you.

You spot her from across the room and light up, warmth blooming across your face, already flushed from the shots you took earlier. You break away from your group mid-sentence, weaving through a haze of cologne, sweat, and perfume until you reach her. Your grin is crooked, wide. “Heyyy,” you say, dragging the word out with a giddy lilt as you throw your arms around her.

Your balance tips a little on your heels — you’re slightly tipsy, full of heat and laughter — and Ellie catches you with a hand at your waist. Her grip is hesitant but steady. You’re aware of how solid she feels, how warm, how she doesn’t pull away even though she totally could.

“You really came,” you say against her ear, breath brushing the shell of it.

“I said I would,” she replies, voice quiet, like the volume of the house makes her want to retreat into herself. She looks down at you, eyes soft. The button-up she’s wearing is wrinkled at the edges, sleeves rolled to her elbows, and she smells faintly like clean laundry — sharp and comforting — mixed with the burn of something stronger. Whiskey, maybe.

You take her cup without asking, taking a sip and wrinkling your nose playfully before handing it back. “You’re late,” you say, tugging her by the wrist, your fingers lacing lightly around hers as you pull her toward the kitchen.

Ellie doesn’t resist. She follows you into the warmth and chaos of the party, and you hand her a shot before raising your own. She downs it without a grimace — like it’s nothing — then does the second one just the same.

You blink, impressed. “I thought you were all straight-edge,” you tease, nudging her elbow with yours.

She shrugs, lips curling at the edge. “Never said that.”

You laugh, leaning a little too close as your balance shifts again. “You’re full of surprises, Ellie Williams.”

The two of you end up at the edge of the kitchen, leaning against the counter while people move around you in waves. The music swells and falls, conversations weaving together in fragments. You’re mostly talking — telling stories, rambling through your buzz — while Ellie listens, her body angled just enough toward you to show she’s paying attention. Her green eyes flick over your face like she’s memorizing something, and every now and then, her lips twitch like she’s holding back a smile.

Your fingers brush her forearm more than once. She doesn’t pull away.

At some point — you’re not sure when — someone drags you onto the dance floor. It’s hot and crowded, all limbs and flickering light, and you don’t remember if it was your idea or hers, but suddenly you’re dancing. Ellie’s hand is at your waist, grounding you in the motion, keeping you upright as you spin and stumble and laugh into her shoulder.

“Okay, okay, I’m done, I’m too drunk,” you wheeze out, laughter bubbling up. Your feet trip over each other, and you lean heavily into her as she catches you, both hands sliding to your hips, steady and firm.

You look up, breath warm against her neck, your heart hammering somewhere near your throat. Your cheeks are flushed — from the alcohol, the heat, her. “What if,” you say slowly, words slurring just a little, “what if the person I wanted to set you up with… is me?”

Ellie goes still.

She’s staring at you, eyes wide, mouth parted like she wasn’t expecting that. Her breath catches — just barely — but she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t laugh it off or deflect. Instead, she leans in close, her lips brushing your ear.

“Let’s get out of here,” she murmurs.

You nod, barely thinking.

Everything becomes a blur of color and heat and motion. Upstairs, the bass from the music fades into a dull thump beneath your feet. You barely make it through the threshold of some stranger’s bedroom before Ellie’s lips are on yours, and your back hits the wall with a soft thud. Her hands are everywhere — in your hair, along your jaw, gripping your thighs as she lifts you up slightly, your legs tightening instinctively around her waist.

You’re breathless. Dizzy. Drunk off her mouth, her warmth, the way she kisses like she’s wanted to for a while and finally stopped holding back. Your hands are under her shirt, fingers skimming hot skin, tugging her closer, closer, until there’s nothing between you but heat and want and the sound of your own gasping breaths.

It’s messy. A little desperate. But god — you've never wanted anything more.

[auroralwriting]

wait for your love

spencer reid x fem!liaison!reader

after joining the bau eight months ago, you and spencer quickly became close. too close, to be just friends, that is.

word count: 2k

warnings: comfort and fluff, no use of y/n, mutual pining, (un)reciprocated feelings, spencer's love-blind, he only likes your touch, vague hints at spencer's autism, playful flirting

Spencer Reid was all you'd ever wanted. He was a sweet, smart, charming, a gentleman. He understood your thoughts and feelings. He made time for you, and actually, the two of you spent a great deal of time together on a daily basis. It was rare you'd go more than two days without seeing the resident genius.

You were even the rare exception to his physical touch boundaries-- he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Holding your hand or interlocking your pinkies was a common form of touch you shared. Hugs, cuddling, and sharing beds wasn't uncommon, either. Usually on cases, you roomed together, even if you had separate rooms. You were Spencer Reid's solace, even more so-- simply his person.

The only issue? He was just your best friend.

For as close as the two of you were, no, you weren't dating. No, you had no clue how he felt about you. Sometimes it felt like he reciprocated your feelings, but then he'd go and call you something like his best friend. So, maybe he didn't reciprocate the feelings. But that was fine, you were still in his life and he was in yours. That was all that mattered, right?

You barreled into Spencer's hotel room the moment he opened the door from your rapid knocks.

Spencer watched as you flopped face-first on his bed with a chuckle, "Hello to you, too." He walked over to where you laid, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Can you guys please profile this douche any quicker?" You groaned into his pillow, the whine of your voice making Spencer smile. "I'm seriously done with the press on this one. I cannot take another call from stupid Heather Young."

"Who's Heather Young?" Spencer asked as you flipped yourself over quickly, sitting up to face him.

Begrudgingly, you pointed to the small TV that sat in front of his bed. "She's some nosey, obsessive, and pestering news reporter who wants the full coverage story on this case." You sighed. Heather Young truly was testing every limit you had. Her phone calls boarded on stalker, at least one an hour, if not more. You'd tried to block her number, but she found another phone to use. "She won't leave me alone. I swear, Spence, every hour this woman calls!"

Spencer knew all too well the struggles of being a liaison, and this was one of them. Dealing with obnoxious reporters and pestering questions would frustrate him to no end. That's why he admired you so much, for your tolerance and patience.

Your phone rang, and you groaned, turning back over and letting yourself fall face-first back into Spencer’s pillow. He chuckled, grabbing your phone and shutting it off so you wouldn’t receive any more calls for the night. “See? Problem solved,”

“Until six a.m when she calls me trying to get an inside scoop,” your muffled voice whined.

“You’re so grumpy,” Spencer chuckled, leaning on his arm beside you. “Come on, don’t let some stupid news reporter get you like this.”

Maybe if you'd looked closer, harder, you would've noticed the adoration in the genius's eyes. However, you just rolled your eyes and scoffed at his words. "M not grumpy,"

Spencer chuckled, poking your side teasingly. "You definitely are," He chuckled at the way you squeaked, shooting upward at the ticklish sensation.

"Spence!"

"If I were to look up the definition for grumpy, your name would be its definition." Spencer continued to softly poke at your ribs and sides, causing giggles to spew from your lips like an endless waterfall. It was music to Spencer's ears.

"Spencer!" You tried to whine, but it came out as laughter instead.

After a minute or so of his relentless attack, Spencer eased. "See? Not so grumpy anymore. I just know the grumpy cure."

"Tickling me is not a cure," You argued, crossing your arms as you sat criss-crossed in front of him. When Spencer went to reach forward, you sucked in a breath, "Okay, okay! Consider me cured!"

Spencer just chuckled at your words. "Admit it, you were grumpy. I could tell based on the way you threw yourself onto my bed." Spencer joked. He wasn't wrong. His hand, instead of poking, found its way to your side, but it gently caressed you in a sweet motion.

With another roll of your eyes, you smiled, letting Spencer know wordlessly he was right. His touch was soft and comforting. Spencer's touch, no matter how it's given, was the cure.

The moment was broken when your phone buzzed, a text from JJ lighting up your screen. For a moment, ignoring it was a highly considerable option, until you realized you were still on a case, and it could be important.

"Who's that?" Spencer asked, looking over your shoulder as you grabbed your phone from his bedside table.

"JJ," You simply stated.

Where are you? The text read.

With Spence, need anything?

Why can't you ever stay in your own rooms, SMH!! Wanted to see if you're ready to give the profile tomorrow?

You chuckled at her text, As ready as I'll ever be

KK, I won't bother you two lovebirds anymore! Enjoy Spencer time!!!

Spencer grinned at the texts. "You don't think she's going to read into that, do you?"

"She already does," You shrugged, setting your phone back down. "The whole team always asks, 'When are you and Spencer getting together?,' 'When are you finally gonna date?,' blah, blah, blah."

With an eyebrow now raised, Spencer felt himself become surprised at your response. While he speculated there was some sort of, well, suspicion about the two of you, he was never on the receiving end of any of it. Apparently, that's because you were. "How many people have asked about us? Just the team?"

"Just them," You paused, considering his question. "Wait, you don't know about this?"

Spencer became more confused at your tone, "No, I don't."

"They think we're madly in love or something," you chuckled, trying to hide your true feelings, "talking about our future little genius-liaison babies."

The genius's mind became scattered, flooded with images of the two of you that his mind created in a moments notice. Children, marriage, love. It felt so surreal picturing you, yet so right. "Did you ever deny it?"

"For the first few months," You confirmed with a solid nod. "I just don't really entertain it anymore. I don't see them stopping anytime soon."

Spencer nodded, clearing his throat. "You haven't let them think it's true though, right?"

"Why?" You asked, his words confusing you. "Is there some sort of problem being with me?"

You felt defensive at his words. Maybe this was his way of telling you the feelings aren't reciprocated. Maybe, all along, you were playing the fool. This stupid, silly little mistake of a crush was mere moments from destroying your closest friendship. You wished you could swallow this whole conversation down like bad medicine and pretend it never happened.

Spencer paused for a moment, your question making his heart drop. "Why would you ask me that?" He softly asked.

"Just--" You sighed, turning over to lay on your side that faced away from him. As much as this sucked, you couldn't see yourself leaving him, either. "forget about it, Spence."

You were upset now, that much was apparent. Spencer couldn't tell if it was about the team, or his response. He wasn't good at talking to girls, let alone about romance. Spencer softly laid on his side, wrapping his arm around your middle and trying to gently pull you into him.

"Spence, it's really fine, just--" You knew this play. You knew he was going to give you the softest affection to try and get you to open up.

"It's not fine, you're upset." Spencer observed, a gentle firmness behind his voice. He hated it when you closed in on yourself.

Adamant about not moving, Spencer realized his efforts were useless; you weren't going to budge. So, he scooted closer until front was pressed against your back, practically spooning you. When your body went rigid against his, Spencer felt disappointment seep into his heart. You always melted into him. Ever so softly, Spencer let his free hand come up and begin to massage your scalp, slowly playing with your hair ever so often.

Like memory, your body began to relax into his, just the way he wanted it to. Of course, it was against your better judgement, but soft moments with Spencer Reid was what you lived for.

Spencer smiled against your shoulder, his efforts weren't so fruitless after all. "You're so stubborn," Spencer mumbled into your shoulder.

"M not stubborn," you muttered in reply, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

"Yes, you are." Spencer said, giving you a small squeeze. It made you giggle in reply, making Spencer's heart thump loudly in his chest. Could you hear it, too? "You never answered me before,"

You hummed, "Hmm?"

Spencer said your name slowly, a growl of a warning. He needed to fix whatever happened. There was no way he was going to let you stay upset at him.

"I asked you that because.." you hesitated. "I don't know. would there be a problem being with me?"

At your soft words, Spencer realized what had happened. He'd been a fool and insulted you. How could he ever do such a thing? "Of course there wouldn't be a problem being with you," he breathed softly into your ear.

"Then.." you paused, "then why aren't we, I don't know, together?" You rolled over to face him. "I mean, we do this," Your hands waved in the air, motioning to your current position with the genius. "We're always together. We even sleep over! Even the team asks me why we aren't together and--"

Spencer felt shock flood his system at your confession. Did this mean what he thought it meant? Was he reading this right?

"Just, why? Is it me?"

Taking a deep breath, Spencer choked down his fears. "I've been.. scared."

"Scared?" Your desperation morphed into one of curiosity and confusion at his words.

"Scared," Spencer confirmed softly. "I didn't know how you felt. I didn't know if you even wanted this.. us,"

Humor slowly filled the situation. Maybe you'd both been fools, but not in the way you'd originally thought. "Do you really think I cuddle with all my best friends?"

Spencer raised a brow at your words. Yeah, he felt unbelievably stupid. How could he not have seen it before? "No, I suppose not." He meekly replied, a small smile growing on his lips. "Does that mean you-you really want to be my girlfriend?"

A chuckle escaped your lips, "Spencer Reid, you ought to know better than to assume. Don't you know what that makes you?"

He smiled in return, rephrasing his question. "You want to be my girlfriend."

"I do," you smiled.

"I want to be your boyfriend," Spencer replied with a now wide grin on his face.

You felt your heart skip a beat, "I want that, too."

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Spencer asked, the question feeling like one of a middle-school boy. Nothing else felt right to say, though. Nothing felt as sweet and innocent as this moment did.

A finger patted your chin as you faked deep thought. "I don't know, it's a lot to consider."

Spencer let out a small laugh, propping himself up. He moved over top of you, his weight now on his forearms as you stared up at him. "Oh, really now?"

"Yeah, being tied down is a lot, you know?"

He leaned down closer to you, so close you could feel the tip of his nose grazing your own. "Tied down," he chuckled with amusement.

"That begs your question; should I be your girlfriend?"

"I say yes," Spencer said, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

Staring down at his lips, you whisper, "I say yes, too."

Like a moment of explosion, your lips meshed perfectly with Spencer's. It felt like everything you'd dreamt of thus far. Poor Spencer, he was in absolute bliss. He felt like he'd been waiting this day his whole life and another. It was magic, heaven, and unbridled passion.

"Stay here tonight?" Spencer whispered as he pulled back, lips tingling with the feeling of you.

"Always," you smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.

[aventurineswife]

Hiii! i was thinking, do you think sagau and sahsrau would be intriuged by the fact that the creator is almost a mad scientist, or atleast very scientifically inclined? but also very soft towards children, they'd let trinnon or sayu nap on their lap no problem

Hiiii!! Ohhh my god YES—both SAGAU and SAHSRAU characters would be fascinated, unnerved, and softened by that combo. A creator who’s a brilliant, borderline mad scientist—but melts the moment a child curls up on their lap? That contrast would absolutely grip their hearts and minds.

SAHSRAU

This version of you is terrifyingly brilliant—a creator whose mind can rewire Stellaron energies, reverse-engineer aeonic phenomena, or even tinker with long-lost technology like it’s second nature. The SAHSRAU characters revere you already, but seeing how your mind works up-close? That’s when admiration becomes awe.

Kafka would be obsessed with how you toe the line between genius and madness. She watches you tinker with dangerous tech one moment, only to softly hush a child the next while letting them fall asleep in your lap—and she smiles. "You’re like a paradox wrapped in velvet and fire," she’d muse.

Himeko would respect your intelligence deeply. Watching you juggle volatile experiments without hesitation would genuinely impress her—but when she sees you gently wiping the child's face with a cloth while explaining theoretical physics in a lullaby-like voice? Her heart shatters. “How are you this kind?” she wonders aloud.

Silver Wolf thinks you’re the coolest person alive. You're like a legendary NPC who's got all the endgame gear and loves cats. She’ll pretend she’s too aloof to care—but she brings tech problems to you just to see you solve them... and then secretly watches you smile when the kid(s) cuddles up to you.

Fu Xuan wouldn’t know how to process you at first. “You're handling experimental dark matter with your bare hands. Have you lost your mind?” But then she sees you letting Yanqing/Yunli nap in your arms, humming softly. Suddenly, she's so quiet, watching with big eyes and a confused heart.

Dan Heng would find something deeply sacred about it. To wield so much knowledge—almost divine—and yet choose to be soft, to hold a child instead of ruling? It would resonate with him. He’d stay near you more often, just to be reminded that strength can look like gentleness too.

SAGAU

In the Genshin universe, the "mad scientist" creator is basically a holy being with forbidden wisdom. The moment the characters realize that your mind contains formulas beyond Teyvat’s comprehension—but your hands hold children like they’re made of glass? Reverence turns to devotion.

Albedo would be enraptured. You're like a living philosopher stone—terrifying intellect wrapped in mystery, but with a heart that sings to children. He’d spend hours in your presence, asking questions about your methods while quietly watching Sayu breathe peacefully in your arms.

Klee would adore you. And you? You'd let her draw on your blueprints, hand her a child-safe version of your tools, and gently praise her creativity. Everyone in Mondstadt would melt.

Lisa would lowkey flirt with you harder. “A mind like yours, my dear… and such tenderness too? You’re positively sinful.” She'd be so intrigued by the juxtaposition that she'd start studying you like a spell she can't quite decipher.

Ei would feel... compelled. To be both brilliant and soft? She’d admire it—envy it, maybe. She sees herself in your ambition, but your gentleness is something she lost long ago. It would draw her toward you like a moth to flame.

Sayu? Oh, she’d adore you. You never force her to wake up. You just let her stay there, hand gently stroking her hair, whispering theories to yourself that even Sumeru’s sages would faint over. You’re her safe place and the scariest genius alive.

And the overall vibe?

You're the Creator who can dismantle a quantum engine mid-nap, build something new with stardust and scrap, and then pause everything because a child rubbed their eyes and needed cuddles.

To the characters in both universes, you aren’t just a god. You’re a guardian. A protector with a mind like a burning sun, but hands that only ever tighten when they’re holding someone close. And that is more divine than any miracle they've ever seen.

[rootedinrevisions]

The Night We Fell

SUMMARY: After a night out with friends, you find yourself a little too tipsy and in need of a ride home. When Phoenix calls Bradley to pick you up, what starts as a simple favor turns into an unforgettable evening. Amidst drunken giggles, lingering glances, and unspoken emotions, the line between friendship and something more begins to blur.

WARNINGS: Some alcohol use and being drunk. But other than that this is pure fluff.

WORD COUNT: 4k

TAG LIST: @missmarveledsblog @shanimallina87 @fore45fore @cardi-bre91

The night had gotten away from you faster than you anticipated. What started as a casual drink with the other aviators turned into a full-blown party at The Hard Deck, complete with a few too many shots of tequila. You weren’t much of a drinker, and the alcohol had hit you harder than you’d expected.

By the time you’d stumbled out of the bar and collapsed into a chair on the deck, the world around you had become a blurry haze of laughter and music. Your friends tried to convince you to head home, but you stubbornly shook your head, giggling at how heavy your limbs felt.

When Phoenix—Natasha—suggested calling an Uber, you waved her off, muttering something about needing fresh air.

“You’re not going to make it home like this,” Natasha sighed, her tone patient but firm. “We need to get you out of here.”

As much as you wanted to argue, you knew she was right. The bar was starting to spin around you, and the thought of walking felt like an impossible task. Your shy, reserved nature wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and now you were the center of it, your teammates gathered around trying to help.

“No… no Uber,” you slurred, shaking your head as if that would solve the problem.

Natasha exchanged a look with Bob and Payback, all of them clearly unsure of what to do. That’s when Natasha had an idea.

“I’ll call Rooster.”

Your heart skipped at the mention of his name. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, your closest friend since you’d both met during your first stint at Top Gun.

He hadn’t come out tonight, opting for a quiet evening at home, but now he was about to be dragged into the chaos you’d created. A part of you was mortified, but another part—a quiet, secret part—was relieved. Bradley always made you feel safe, even in moments like these.

A short while later, Bradley’s familiar Bronco pulled up outside the bar, and you heard his deep voice before you saw him.

“Alright, where is she?” he asked, concern lacing his words. He stepped into view, scanning the small crowd until his eyes landed on you slumped in the chair, your face flushed from the alcohol.

“There you are,” he said softly, crouching down in front of you. “Let’s get you home.”

You blinked up at him, your mind fuzzy but recognizing the warmth in his voice, the safety that always seemed to follow him. Bradley’s hand slid under your arm, helping you up carefully as he guided you toward his Bronco.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” you mumbled, leaning heavily against him.

“You’re not trouble,” Bradley replied, his voice low and reassuring. “Come on, let's get you home.”

Bradley had just helped you to your feet when you suddenly pulled away from him, a mischievous grin on your face. The alcohol had blurred your sense of reasoning, and all you could think about was the sound of the ocean nearby, calling to you like some irresistible force.

“I’m going to the beach!” you declared, your voice louder than you intended as you stumbled in that direction.

Before Bradley could react, you slipped out of his grasp and made a run for it—well, as much as a run as your unsteady legs would allow.

Bradley sighed, watching you attempt your escape. He glanced back at Natasha, who stood with her arms crossed, an amused but knowing smile on her face.

“Now you know why we called you,” she said with a smirk.

Bradley chuckled, shaking his head as he set off after you. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

It didn’t take him long to catch up. The soft sand slowed your pace, and by the time Bradley reached you, you were giggling to yourself, your feet sinking into the cool beach beneath you. He walked up beside you, a teasing glint in his eye as he tried to reason with you.

“Come on, we’re going home,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’ve had enough fun for one night.”

But you weren’t having it. With a pout, you shook your head, your hair falling messily around your face. “Nooo, I don’t wanna go yet. The beach is so nice.”

Bradley sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried a different approach. “I’ll take you to the beach another time, I promise. But right now, I need to take you home and you need to sleep it off.”

You looked up at him, blinking like you were seriously contemplating his offer, but the alcohol still had too strong a hold on you. Instead of agreeing, you turned and tried to take another unsteady step toward the water.

That’s when Bradley decided enough was enough.

Before you could protest, he scooped you up into his arms, one arm under your knees, the other behind your back, lifting you effortlessly off the sand. You let out a surprised yelp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Bradley!” you squealed, squirming a little, though not enough to actually get free.

He grinned down at you, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. “You left me no choice,” he said with a chuckle, adjusting his grip on you. “You’re way too stubborn when you’re drunk.”

You pouted, but you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you. The warmth of Bradley’s arms and the playful tone in his voice made you feel strangely content, despite your half-hearted protests.

As he carried you back toward the parking lot, the others watched with barely concealed laughter, Natasha shaking her head at the sight.

“Thanks, Bradshaw,” she called after him, clearly relieved they didn’t have to wrangle you themselves.

“Anytime,” he called back with a wink, continuing toward his Bronco with you securely in his arms.

Bradley drove you back to his place, the familiar roads passing by in a blur as you leaned your head against the window, humming some tune to yourself. He kept glancing over at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. You were different like this—unfiltered, carefree—and he couldn’t help but be charmed by it.

When he finally pulled into the driveway, you groaned dramatically, throwing your head back against the seat.

“What’s wrong now?” Bradley asked, trying to suppress his laughter as he watched you.

“My legs,” you whined, drawing out the words, “they suddenly don’t work. Guess you’ll have to carry me again.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, but he couldn’t hide the grin that spread across his face. “Oh, really? That’s a shame,” he teased, already moving to get out of the truck. “Guess I’ll just have to take care of you, huh?”

Before you could respond, he was at your door, opening it with a flourish and reaching down to scoop you up just like he had at the beach. You giggled as he lifted you, your arms finding their way around his neck once more, your face pressed against his chest.

“You’re so strong,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “How do you do that?”

Bradley laughed softly as he carried you inside, the warmth of your body against his making his heart beat a little faster. “It’s all the push-ups,” he joked, kicking the door shut behind him.

Inside, the low light of his living room cast soft shadows across the space, but you barely noticed. As soon as he set you down on the couch, you flopped back with a dramatic sigh, your arms splayed out to the sides.

Bradley laughed as he looked down at you, shaking his head with that signature grin. “You’re going to be a lot of work, aren’t you?”

You just grinned up at him, your head lolling back against the cushions. “Probably.”

He crouched down in front of you. “Alright, let’s get you out of these bar clothes and into something more comfortable,” he said, giving your outfit a once-over. “Stay here.”

Bradley disappeared down the hall and returned a few moments later with a soft t-shirt and a pair of his shorts. He set them on the couch beside you. “Here you go. This should do for tonight.”

You blinked at the clothes, a lopsided smile forming on your face. “You’re giving me your clothes?” you asked, your voice high with surprise.

Bradley just shrugged casually, though the way he glanced at you made your heart flutter. “Yeah, well, you can’t sleep in those,” he nodded toward your jeans and top. “Go ahead and change. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

You stood, wobbling slightly on your feet as you started to peel off your top. But when it came to your jeans, they were another story. You tugged at the waistband, trying to shimmy out of them, but in your drunken state, your legs didn’t quite cooperate. One misstep later, you tripped over yourself, landing on the floor with your jeans half down, a soft “oof” escaping your lips.

Before you could even try to untangle yourself, Bradley was suddenly at the door, peeking in with a look of concern. “You okay in here?”

You froze, staring up at him from the floor, your face flushing as you realized the position you were in. “Uh, I—” you stammered, trying to pull the jeans down the rest of the way but getting more tangled in the process. “I think I… need some help.”

Bradley hesitated for only a second before walking over to you, kneeling beside you with a soft laugh. “Hold on,” he said gently, his hands moving to your waistband. “Let me get these off for you.”

His touch was warm but careful, and his eyes stayed focused on your jeans as he slid them down your legs. He made sure to avoid anything that might make you uncomfortable, keeping his movements slow and respectful. Once they were off, he glanced up at you, noticing the shy look on your face. You were suddenly quiet, your playful demeanor fading as a wave of embarrassment hit you.

“Hey,” Bradley’s voice was soft, reassuring as he met your eyes. “It’s okay. I’m not going to do anything. I just want to help you get comfortable, alright?”

You nodded, still feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “I know… I just—sorry. This is kinda embarrassing.”

Bradley shook his head, a gentle smile pulling at his lips. “No need to apologize. It’s not weird, I promise,” he said, his tone full of warmth. “You look cute in your flustered state, anyway.”

That comment earned him a shy giggle from you, and he stood, handing you the t-shirt he’d brought. “Here, finish getting dressed. I’ll turn around.”

True to his word, Bradley turned his back to you, giving you the privacy to slip into his shirt and shorts. The fabric was soft, smelling faintly of him, and it hung loosely on your frame, but it felt comfortable in a way that made you feel safe.

Once you were dressed, you cleared your throat softly. “Okay, I’m good.”

Bradley turned back around, his eyes soft as they flickered over your new look. A slow smile spread across his face.

“I’m soooo tired,” you groaned as you suddenly flopped back onto his couch, though the playful gleam in your eyes betrayed you. “But I’m also kinda hungry. Do you have snacks?”

Bradley shook his head, unable to suppress his smile as he watched you sprawl out, so completely at ease in his space. It was a side of you he hadn’t seen before—this unguarded, silly version of you. Normally, you were a bit more reserved, shy even, especially around him. But now, with the alcohol loosening your inhibitions, you were like a completely different person, and Bradley couldn’t deny how much he liked it.

“Snacks, huh?” he asked, moving into the kitchen. “I might have something you’ll want.”

You perked up instantly, your eyes following him as he rummaged through his cupboards. “Ooh, what do you have? Chips? Cookies? I’ll take anything, really.”

He came back with a bag of chips and a box of cookies, setting them down on the coffee table with a flourish. You gasped dramatically, your eyes wide as you grabbed the bag of chips, shaking it like it was some grand prize.

“You’re amazing, Bradley,” you said with exaggerated sincerity, ripping open the bag and shoving a handful into your mouth.

Bradley chuckled as he sat down next to you, watching as you munched happily, your legs curled up underneath you. He couldn’t stop staring. The way you laughed, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief—it was like seeing you in a whole new light. You were always beautiful to him, but this side of you? This carefree, uninhibited side? It was something else entirely.

You caught him staring and tilted your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “What’re you looking at, Bradshaw?”

He smiled softly, leaning back against the couch. “You just look so good when you wear my shirt,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

Your cheeks flushed, and for a moment, the playful banter between you stilled as the weight of his words settled in the air. You looked down at the oversized shirt you were wearing—the one that still smelled like him—and suddenly, the world felt just a little bit smaller, the space between you and Bradley charged with something unspoken.

“I—I can take if off if it bothers you,” you mumbled, suddenly shy again. The bold, carefree version of you flickered for a second as you averted your eyes.

Bradley chuckled, scooting closer to you on the couch, his hand resting lightly on your knee. “Bothers me? Not even a little. Honestly, I kind of love it.”

You glanced up at him, your heart fluttering at the soft smile on his lips, the way his eyes lingered on you like you were the only thing that mattered in the room And as you looked into his eyes, you could feel that shift between you, that quiet understanding that whatever this was, it was about to change.

But before you could say anything, the alcohol caught up to you again, and a fit of giggles escaped your lips as you reached for the cookies, breaking the tension in the air.

“You’re ridiculous,” you teased, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through your chest at the way he looked at you.

Bradley just smiled, his hand resting on your knee a little longer than necessary. “Maybe,” he said softly, “but I think I’m in good company.”

Bradley leaned against the arm of the couch, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Alright, I think it’s time to call it a night,” he said, his voice low and calm, not wanting to disturb the peaceful quiet that had settled in the room.

You blinked up at him, lazily pushing yourself into a sitting position. “Hmm, I guess you’re right,” you murmured, still tipsy but slowly sobering. You gave him a teasing smile. “Maybe I’ll just go home.”

You turned and started heading towards the front door. Bradley let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “Yeah, no. That’s not happening,” he said firmly, crossing the room in a couple of long strides, his arm wrapping around your waist to stop you from going any further.

His eyes softened as he looked at you. “So… do you want to crash on the couch? Or… you could take my bed?”

You felt your face flush at the thought of sleeping in Bradley’s bed. The sudden rush of nerves had you avoiding his gaze, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Sharing a bed with him—or with anyone—felt so personal, so intimate. And it wasn’t something you’d ever really done before. “Um…” You bit your lip, eyes darting up to meet his, then quickly away. “I don’t know…”

Bradley, noticing your sudden change in demeanor, tilted his head slightly, concern flickering across his face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked gently, leaning forward a little to get a better look at you. “You’ve gone quiet on me.”

You swallowed, feeling your heart race a little. It wasn’t something you ever talked about, especially with a guy. But the warmth in Bradley’s eyes, the safe feeling that always surrounded you when he was near, made it easier to admit your nervousness. “It’s just… I’ve never really…” You trailed off, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his shorts, feeling suddenly shy and vulnerable.

Bradley waited patiently, his gaze never leaving you. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on your knee. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

Taking a deep breath, you let the words tumble out before you could second-guess yourself. “I’ve never… slept with a guy before,” you said softly, avoiding his eyes. “I mean, not like… sex,” you added quickly, flustered. “Just… you know, sharing a bed. Falling asleep next to someone.”

Bradley blinked, a momentary look of confusion crossing his face before he processed what you’d said. His brows furrowed, but not in judgment—just surprise. “Wait, really?” He asked softly, tilting his head as he studied you. “What about… I mean, your ex-boyfriends? You never…?”

You shook your head, feeling the embarrassment heat your cheeks. “Nope,” you muttered, rubbing your hand over your face as if trying to hide. “I always… I don’t know, kicked them out or left before we actually slept. I just… I’ve never felt comfortable enough, I guess.”

Bradley’s expression softened even more. There was no judgment in his eyes, only understanding. “Wow,” he said, his voice gentle. “I didn’t know that. But hey, that’s totally okay.”

You risked glancing up at him, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief at his easygoing reaction. “It’s stupid, right?” you mumbled, feeling silly for even bringing it up. “I’m just… I don’t know, I get really shy about stuff like that.”

Bradley shook his head, reaching over to gently take your hand in his. “It’s not stupid,” he said firmly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “If you’ve never felt comfortable enough to stay the night with someone, that’s fine. You don’t have to explain it.”

Your eyes softened at his words, the knot of nerves in your stomach slowly unwinding. His understanding felt like a weight lifted off your chest. “Thanks,” you said quietly, looking down at your intertwined hands. “But… I think… I want to, if it’s with you.”

Bradley’s eyes flickered with surprise, then something warmer—something softer—as he met your gaze. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and careful, not wanting to push you if you weren’t ready.

You nodded, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. “Yeah,” you whispered, offering a small smile. “I trust you, Bradley. I know you wouldn’t make it weird.”

Bradley’s lips curved into a slow smile, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly.

Your heart fluttered as you nodded again, the warmth of his hand grounding you. “Okay.”

He stood up, offering his hand to help you off the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Let’s get some sleep. You can have the bed, and I’ll stay until your asleep and then I’ll—”

You tugged his hand slightly, cutting him off with a small, shy smile. “No,” you said quietly, your voice just above a whisper. “I want to share it. With you.”

Bradley looked down at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you were certain. Then, with a soft nod, he led you down the hall, his hand never leaving yours.

As you and Bradley made your way to his bedroom, the air between you was warm and comfortable, even with the slight awkwardness of your earlier confession. His hand stayed in yours, steady and reassuring as he led you into the dimly lit room. The bed was neatly made, its navy-blue sheets crisp and inviting. Bradley let go of your hand as you approached the edge, both of you standing there for a moment.

“So,” Bradley started, glancing at the bed, then back at you with a small smile, “which side do you want?”

You blinked, surprised he was even asking. “Uh… whichever side you don’t want?” you said, a shy giggle escaping your lips.

He chuckled and nodded, walking around to the right side of the bed and pulling back the covers. You mimicked his movement, lifting the blanket on your side before climbing into the bed. The mattress was firm beneath you, the sheets cool and soft against your skin. Bradley slid in beside you, lying back with a content sigh as he settled into the pillows.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks again as you tugged the blanket up to your chin, suddenly feeling self-conscious being this close to him. But the warmth of his presence beside you, so familiar and comforting, was enough to make you relax. For a moment, you lay in silence, the gentle sound of Bradley breathing beside you filling the room.

Bradley shifted slightly, turning on his side to face you. “You good?” he asked, his voice soft in the dark.

You turned your head to look at him, nodding. “Yeah,” you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m good.”

But as the quiet settled in, your playful, tipsy side started to peek out again. The combination of being cozy in his bed and the lingering effects of the alcohol made your inhibitions lower, and before you knew it, you giggled softly.

Bradley raised an eyebrow, amused. “What’s so funny?”

You turned on your side to face him, biting your lip as you tried to stifle another giggle. “I was just thinking…” you started, your voice trailing off as your laughter bubbled up again.

He smiled at your amusement, a curious glint in his eyes. “Thinking what?”

You wiggled a little closer to him, your face still flushed with giggles as you blurted, “Can we cuddle?”

Bradley’s eyes widened for a second, clearly taken off guard, but the grin that spread across his face was unmistakable. “Cuddle, huh?” he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

You nodded, biting your lip again. “Yeah,” you said softly, the playfulness in your voice contrasting with the bashfulness you felt creeping in. “I mean, if you want to…”

Bradley let out a soft laugh and shook his head fondly. “You’re something else, you know that?” he said, shifting slightly closer to you. “Come here.”

With that, he wrapped an arm around your waist, gently pulling you toward him until your head rested against his chest. His body was warm and solid against yours, his arm resting comfortably around you as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You snuggled into him, your cheek pressed against his shirt, and sighed contentedly.

“You’re really good at this,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his chest.

Bradley chuckled softly, his breath warm against your hair. “I try,” he murmured. “Feeling better?”

You nodded, your body relaxing completely into his. “Much better,” you whispered, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as the warmth of his embrace wrapped around you like a blanket. The playful giggles had faded, replaced by a calm, peaceful feeling as you nestled against him, your fingers resting lightly against his chest.

Bradley’s hand gently stroked your back, his voice a quiet rumble. “I’ve got you,” he said softly, his lips brushing against the top of your head. “Just sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

With those words, the last of your nerves melted away, and you drifted off, feeling safe and warm in Bradley’s arms.

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

The “Perfect” Pair

Synopsis: A writer tries to distract the campus math genius with silly courting tactics—only to end up falling harder than planned. A rivals-to-lovers slow burn filled with banter, study sessions, and unexpected feelings.

Word Count: 1,980

Karina X Male Reader

Karina was the mathematician. Cold, brilliant, precise—she could solve equations in seconds and reduce the toughest calculus problems to nothing but child’s play.

You? You were the writer. Messy desk, messier thoughts, but never short on metaphors or big ideas. A different kind of smart—head in the clouds, pen always moving.

And the two of you? Constantly at odds, never quite rivals, never quite friends.

Competition was the language you shared.

She beat you in math—scored a perfect 30 while you came in second with a brutal 16. You smoked her in English, topping the charts while she fumbled a few literary terms. Back and forth, like a pendulum with pride at stake.

Even debates turned into battlegrounds.

“Love is not real. It’s a chemical response. Toxins in the brain, serotonin, oxytocin—basic biology,” she argued one afternoon in Philosophy Club, arms crossed, eyes burning.

“Then why do people say ‘I’d take a bullet for you’?” you countered, leaning forward with a grin. “You ever seen anyone say that for dopamine?”

She rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re fun when you’re losing.”

People said you two were a match made in heaven. You both strongly disagreed.

“She’s the type to marry a textbook,” you joked once.

“And he’s the type to write poetry about a sandwich,” she clapped back.

But the tension? It was there. Everyone could feel it in the library, where you’d casually pass by her table with your annotated Shakespeare, and she’d just so happen to drop her linear algebra book near your seat.

“Studying English, I see?” she said one day, eyeing your notes.

“Good for you,” you smirked. “Why don’t you study some math, genius?”

You tossed a heavy calculus book at her desk. She scoffed, then cracked a small, unguarded smile.

At lunch, the roast came in hot.

“Karina bombed you again, man,” your friend cackled. “She got a perfect on that calc test. You got, what? 16 out of 30?”

“I’m not a math genius,” you said coolly, sipping your milk carton like it was a glass of aged wine, “but I have a plan.”

“Oh no,” someone groaned. “Last time you had a plan, we nearly got banned from the robotics lab—”

“Shh. We don’t speak of that.”

“So what’s the plan?”

You leaned back in your chair, eyes locked on Karina across the room. She was quietly scribbling in a notebook, brows furrowed, hair tucked behind one ear. Effortless. Brilliant.

“I’ll court Karina.”

Deadpan. Not a trace of irony.

The table went silent.

“So she can get distracted from her studies,” you finished.

“…You’re insane.”

“Diabolical,” someone whispered, impressed.

“Y’all laughing now, but when I sabotage her GPA with love, don’t ask me for my English notes.”

As they started to leave, still chuckling, you watched Karina from across the room. She caught your gaze—and smirked.

She didn’t know your plan.

But something told you… she wouldn’t mind being distracted.

You knew she’d forget. She always did when she was too deep in her equations to care about anything else. So you quietly placed a fresh pack of pastel highlighters across from your seat at the library table, right where she usually sat—one of each color, arranged like a color-coded peace offering.

When Karina arrived, her usual presence stole the air from the room. Hair loosely tied, brows furrowed like she was already solving a problem in her head. She stopped when she noticed the pack.

“What’s this?”

She didn’t look at you, but her fingers had already opened the packaging.

“A gift. From a desperate academic rival who also may or may not be deeply infatuated with you.” You tried to sound smug, but it came out soft.

She picked up the lilac one, her favorite shade—whether she noticed you noticing or not, you weren’t sure. “Pastel? Not bad.” Then she added after a beat: “Still doesn’t make up for that essay you bombed last week.”

But you caught the upward curl of her lips.

Day 3: The Candy Bribe

Midday, before class, you sneaked over to her desk and dropped a tiny gift bag with obnoxiously cute decorations—little strawberries, hearts, and glittery tape. Inside? Her favorite candies, all unwrapped for convenience. And a sticky note:

“A little sugar to balance the bitterness of your Calculus superiority complex.”

—Your not-so-secret admirer.

She didn’t react in class. No glance, no smirk, nothing.

But the next day, you noticed one of those candies being unwrapped during lunch, and the sticky note stuck to the back of her phone.

She was laughing with her friends. But the moment her eyes caught yours, she bit down on the candy and looked away, quickly—but not before the smallest, traitorous blush hit her cheeks.

Day 6: The Math Joke

You folded the paper twice to make it look like a note from a passing era—middle school drama, passing secret crushes. You slipped it under her book in the library.

She stared at it for a moment before opening it.

“You must be the square root of -1… because you can’t be real.”

Silence. You looked up from your laptop, waiting.

She didn’t say anything. Just slid it back across the table like a rejection letter.

“You’re so lame.”

But later, you saw it tucked inside her calculus notebook, next to her graph sketches. Folded once more—carefully.

Day 8: The Study Playlist

You titled the playlist “For the best girl in Calculus (and the worst in Romance)” and sent it with no explanation.

She didn’t reply. Classic Karina.

But the next day, you caught her listening to it on her phone, mouthing the lyrics to a song you knew she’d love. It was soft, instrumental, wordless. The kind of music that made your heart ache quietly.

You didn’t say anything. But she did.

“Track 7 is mid. Replace it.”

She was still listening.

Day 10: The Slip-Up

She stood at the whiteboard, sketching out a solution as if it were choreography. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, marker gliding in precise movements. You sat there, forgetting your own notes, eyes trained on the way she furrowed her brows, how she bit her lip when she was unsure, how she’d blink twice when she was sure she nailed it.

“Are you even trying to study?” she asked, catching your gaze.

You blinked, unashamed.

“Yeah. I’m studying… the trajectory of my feelings for you. And right now it’s looking like exponential growth.”

She sighed—hard—and shook her head, but the smile she tried to hide pulled at her lips like gravity.

“You’re hopeless.”

“You like it.”

No answer. But she didn’t walk away.

It started off as a plan.

Distract Karina with affection, fluster her with relentless charm—enough to knock her off her academic pedestal for just a moment.

But now? You were the one fumbling your pen every time she tucked her hair behind her ear.

DAY: 15

You left a mini chocolate on her library desk with a sticky note:

“For brain fuel. Or just because you’re sweet.”

She didn’t say anything when she saw it. Just unwrapped it calmly, popped it into her mouth… and looked you dead in the eye as she chewed.

“Focus on your reading, loverboy.”

You swear your heart short-circuited.

Attempt #8:

You wrote her name in cursive on the back of your English notes. Absentmindedly.

Then boxed it in hearts.

Then she leaned over and saw it.

“You got a little obsession going on there, Shakespeare.”

“That’s not mine. I bought these notes secondhand.”

“Mm-hmm. You wrote the date—today’s date—right underneath it.”

You didn’t respond. You were too busy pretending to drink from your empty water bottle.

Attempt #9:

She dropped her pen and you bent down to pick it up, but your head hit the underside of the desk.

She giggled as you groaned.

“Distracted much?”

“Only by perfect girls who smell like lemon shampoo.”

“…You’re impossible.”

But when she sat back down, her cheeks were dusted pink. And when she resumed writing, she didn’t hide her smile this time.

Your plan was falling apart, piece by piece.

And Karina? She knew.

She just kept playing along—like a cat swatting at string—waiting to see when you’d admit that maybe she wasn’t the one being distracted anymore.

Some days passed, like scattered pages from a diary filled with quiet glances and shared secrets.

Exams came and went—Karina still crushed the math ones, and you still swept the literature scores. But now, when one of you came out of a classroom, the other was always there waiting. Sometimes with snacks, sometimes with teasing, always with a grin.

During the school festival, you helped at the haunted house booth while Karina worked the math club’s impossible quiz stall. Students passed by giggling at the odd pairing of the two smartest yet most chaotic duo on campus.

“Come try the quiz and win a prize!” she called out.

You walked over with your arms crossed, raising a brow.

“What do I get if I score perfect?”

“My heart’s already taken, sorry.” she winked.

“I was gonna ask for your last taiyaki.”

“Then solve this.” She held out a paper.

You blinked.

“That’s calculus.”

“Exactly. Good luck.”

You didn’t get the taiyaki. She fed it to you anyway.

Late at night, you both stayed behind in the library once—her tutoring you through your math finals, your legs bumping beneath the table, her glasses slightly sliding down her nose.

She caught you staring.

“Focus, writer boy.”

“Can’t. You’re a distraction.”

She nudged your foot gently under the table.

And then there were moments in between—the walks to class, the sneaky texts during lectures, the way she’d tug at your sleeve when she wanted your attention.

You weren’t competing anymore.

You were just… falling. Together.

It happened on a rainy Wednesday after school. The hallways were mostly empty except for the occasional echo of shoes on tile. You found Karina near the lockers, tapping her calculator like it owed her money.

You had no gifts this time. No new pens, no chocolates, no sticky notes with your bad jokes.

Just a heart that wouldn’t stop thudding.

“Hey.”

She looked up. “No offerings today, Romeo?”

You smiled, but it was different this time—less smug, more honest. You stepped closer.

“I like you, Karina. Not for a plan or a distraction or any of that dumb stuff.”

“I just like you. You’re smart, you’re stubborn, and somehow you still put up with me. That has to mean something.”

She was quiet for a second. Then:

“You’re stupid.”

But she stepped forward. She looked up at you. And before your heart could fully panic, she kissed you—soft and fast, like a secret.

“But I like you too, stupid.”

The next day in class, you sat next to her like usual. Except this time, her arm brushed yours on purpose. And during group work, she took your pen, used it, and didn’t give it back.

Someone from your table noticed.

“Wait… are you two…?”

You and Karina looked at each other.

She smiled, shrugged.

“Yeah. We are.”

Chaos ensued.

From the back of the room, your friend gasped like it was a plot twist in a drama. “THE PLAN ACTUALLY WORKED?”

Karina rolled her eyes.

“It didn’t. He got distracted instead.”

You buried your face in your hands while everyone erupted in teasing cheers and mock applause.

But when her hand found yours under the table and squeezed it gently, you didn’t care.

[defmaybe]

Engineering Statistics

Kep1er’s Seo Youngeun x Male Reader

1.8k words

A/N: Part of suchsweetstories' prompt event! This one's for delph. :luvv:

—

“When do you use the Poisson distribution?”

“It’s–” and Youngeun pauses, tapping the Apple Pencil on her cheek, eyes pointing elsewhere “–number of events occurring in a timeframe?”

“Correct!”

The library is quiet, making reservations for the encouraged silence. The squeaky clean scent of the air wafts into your nose. The tables and chairs are neatly arranged, at least before the crowd enters and scatters them all over the place. 

You decided to apply for the faculty’s tutor position for some quick cash, good money per hour, after all. You can spend it on some nice meals after a few sessions.

Your first student is Seo Youngeun, a sophomore, just a year below you, and you can tell that she has done a decent amount of preparation for this, being receptive and eager so far. She asks questions and tries to solve problems the best she can. It’s making your first time easy, really.

“What about binomial distribution?”

“Hmm, a chance for a certain number of successes?”

“You’re making this really easy for me.”

Youngeun laughs, covering her mouth with her hand, body falling backward slightly. “I’m just trying to be a good student, if that helps.”

“You certainly are.”

The session goes on, and Youngeun continues to be resolute. She asks questions, summarizes the answers in her own words, constantly trying to understand the subject she’s learning. This is really easy for you, and you only wish that the next sessions will be like this.

“Can I take a look at your old assignments?” Youngeun asks, shifting slightly in her seat. “I wanna see how you did them.”

“Sure! I’ll just AirDrop–” Your words are cut off as Youngeun leans in closer towards you, scrolling your iPad for the assignments. Her flowery perfume hits your nose, making you shiver a little.

“Uh.”

Her hand presses into your thighs for a hold, feeling a bit heavy against your skin. You tremble slightly as she applies the pressure on you, feeling a brand new kind of current running through your body. Your eyes are focusing on her face—so gorgeous. Smooth jawline. Curious eyes. Soft-looking lips. She’s definitely a catch.

Inevitably, your vision shifts down towards her workshop shirt. She only wears a tight, white crop top underneath. It looks good on her, casually stylish. How nice would it be to go on a date with her in these clothes?

Soon, your eyes wander towards the smooth, milky skin of her cleavage. Oh, how nice would it be to sink your face into that dip of her curves? Your mouth feasts on her hard nipples—so salty, so full of her perfume—eliciting sharp moans from her lips. She presses your head into her chest, creating such a salacious, filthy bond between your mouth and her tits. Your hands sink into the plumpness of her ass, feeling those muscles flexing against–

The automatic door opens, introducing a new patron to the chilly library. You blink, regaining that precious awareness back, and you know that you’ve been staring a tad too long. Lucky that her eyes are still on your iPad.

You quickly look away, hoping to find some reprieve in other objects—chairs, tables, books. Your legs press into each other, adjusting the growing erection in your pants. Heat creeps up your body. Your stomach sinks—this is fucking embarrassing. You’re supposed to teach your student, not imagine yourself sucking on her tits!

Her hand lingers, staying there. She doesn’t squeeze; she doesn’t press harder, but it’s sure having an effect on you. Your breath quickens. Your hands tremble. Your cock hardens. Fuck, you can’t let her see you getting all worked up like this!

She even adjusts her top, revealing even more of her cleavage. There’s no way out of this. Your pants are barely holding it together.

After what felt like an eternity, Youngeun’s hand finally leaves your thighs, giving you the space you’ve been craving. You let out an exhale as she lets you go. Youngeun goes back to writing something on her iPad, completing her assignments as you desperately cling on to your composure.

“Divided by k factorial–can I take a break for a bit? We’ve been studying for half an hour already.”

You clear your throat, trying to maintain a professional façade. Hope she doesn’t see it slipping.

“Uh–sure.”

—

You let out a sigh as you relieve yourself alone in the bathroom, eyes closed, head falling back. Your body feels so light; the tension slowly dissipates away. Just half an hour more and this will all end. No need to worry about her intimacy like that again. Just be a professional, keep your cool.

Until you feel a pair of arms wrapping around you.

“Hey there, pretty boy.”

Youngeun.

Your eyes widen in shock. Your body jolts in her warm embrace that disarms you completely. Her hands trail down your taut abdomen, down to your cock that’s in the middle of the business. She holds it gently with her fingers, making your cock grow harder in an instant.

You glance back at her. “What–What are you doing, Youngeun?”

“Shhh, be quiet in the library, baby. It’s against the rules,” she coos—voice so airy, so seductive. It’s a wonder how she manages to be so calm and authoritative in this situation. Your body easily wobbles under her touch, control being stripped away so quickly. The hold on your length is flipped over to hers in an instant. 

You’re still in the middle of emptying your bladder, but the grip on your cock is fully hers. She grips it firmly, but never too tight. Youngeun is holding a goddamn royal flush here, and she makes sure that you can’t fold.

The stream weakens—from continuous flow to smaller drops. Youngeun wiggles your cock lightly, getting rid of the final remnants on your slit, and you can only watch helplessly as they fall into the urinal.

“Flush it,” she orders—so calm, so hushed.

Nervously, your hand moves towards the lever, barely able to push it down. The urinal makes noise as the water falls from the top, cleaning your filth into the pipes.

Youngeun tightens her hold around your hard cock—warm—sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Her other hand trails down your body, caressing the skin along the way, until she reaches your testicles. Youngeun cups it gently, delivering warmth to your frame. Your breath comes out shaken from the overstimulation, almost a moan. This is just too much, too intense. You have to grab the compartment divider to keep yourself standing.

Her warm hand begins to stroke your length, and that almost makes you collapse in her hug. She slides your foreskin back and forth, slowly, tortuously, stimulating you with such divine sensations. Your body squirms, overloaded by the act. Your back arches against her embrace. You struggle to stand upright. Breathless moans leak out of your lips into the cold air of the bathroom. You’re getting loud, but you just can’t help it when you have your student jerking you off like this!

“What did I say about making sounds, baby? Hmm? High chance of people hearing us,” Youngeun whispers, quickening her pace on you, tightening her grip. You feel even more helpless with her restraining you like this. And the worst part is: she’s smiling all so casually, like this is a normal occurrence for her. 

Your cock swells against the palm of her hand, aching for that sweet, sticky release. Precum leaks out of your slit. You’re desperately trying to hold your body still within her warmth, trying not to collapse, to falter. The chill from the air conditioner hits you, contrasting the warmth from her small frame. Your muscles tighten against her—chest heaving, thighs clenching, so ready to cum. The wet, obscene sounds of the strokes fill the bathroom, lucky that no one is here yet in the morning. 

“I’m gonna make sure you cum so hard that these little balls become dry.”

Your body shudders with her words, shaken by the sheer anticipation and pleasure she creates with her tiny hands. You can feel that you’re close—how your body strains against her abdomen, how your hips begin to thrust into her hands, how your breathing comes out short. You’re just Seo Youngeun’s plaything, and she makes sure that you are more than aware of it.

“Come on, cum for me. I wanna know how you taste.”

Your breath hitches. Your entire body spasms—a shock delivered from her filthy little hands. The first spurt of your cum is shot onto the urinal, painting it with the first stroke of ivory. Your moans leak out, barely suppressed. The second spurt brushes against the porcelain with another stroke. Then the third. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. You strain with each burst of your cum, barely able to breathe properly. 

“You’re cumming so much, wonder who did this to you,” Youngeun coos, rubbing your cock to coax any cum left in your balls. Your nectar continues to dribble out of your slit. Your body shakes in her hug. 

Bursts become drizzles. The orgasm slowly subsides, but Youngeun is making sure that you’re all drained by the time she’s done with you. Her pace slows down, but the grip is still tight—to empty you, to make you devoid of any essence. The drops begin to stain her hands, leaving white on her skin.

Youngeun teases, still forcing the last drops out, “Oh no, how am I going to clean my hands now?”

You can’t say a thing, overwhelmed by this entire situation. Your mind already went blank by the time she put her hands on your busy length.

Finally, you’re drained, tired, spent. Your head rests against the wall, watching your cum running down the white of the urinal. Sweat falls down your forehead. Your heart races. You can barely stand up straight. You’re full of shame, so overtaken by the pleasure that just coursed through you.

You’re such a slut.

Youngeun finally lets go of you, hands all stained with your cum. “Look what you’ve done to me,” she says, teasing her hand in front of your face, so full of mischief. Then, as promised, she brings her hand closer to her lips, before you hear a lewd, obscene sound of sucking. You just can’t bear to watch—too weary, too drained—but you sure know what she’s doing.

“You taste good,” Youngeun says, continuing to make that filthy sucking sound. “Wonder how it’ll taste from the source.”

Your mind spins from her filthy words, slipping into such a salacious, debased scene. Her lips stretch around your cock, making the filthiest sounds. You can barely stand up straight. Your body squirms in her touch. Her hands work on your cock, so determined to taste your cum shooting out of your slit. Pleasure cuts through you like a blade. And finally, you break, making Youngeun take every single drop of your cum into her throat. Her eyes flutter as your dick stretches her mouth out. Your cock pulses against her lips, hands gripping against the counter.

Shame that it’s just a product of your spent, overclocked brain, though.

“But maybe later,” she playfully quips, giving her fingers one last suck before walking away. Her steps echo through the bathroom, replacing the sound of the session earlier. You slowly turn back towards her, seeing her cute little ass swaying from side to side in her jeans. Your breathing is still all ragged, legs barely holding you up straight. You lean against the divider, gathering that precious composure back for the rest of the tutoring session. You feel weak. You feel used. It’s one hell of a final show.

She glances back at you over her shoulder one last time, before musing, “So, what’s the probability of me making you cum again? One?”

—

[astrow1zar6]

Astrology Observations- 013

I notice Cap Mercurys think so maturely even from such a very young age. These were those kids that always wanted to hang around people older than them. They are old souls at heart and sometimes it’s harder for them to connect with more childlike energies. People their age can see them as boring because of their serious demeanor.

Leo Risings never like to show the sides to them that make them look bad in anyway. These people have big egos so any assumption from others that they aren’t anything but great can take a big toll on their self esteem. They come off so confident but most are really insecure & don’t think they are interesting so they tend exaggerate a lot of facts about them to keep people thinking they are really interesting and amazing. (U guys don’t need ti do that people already think you are before you even speak)

Capricorn risings always look so annoyed when people are speaking to them. Most of the time they are. They have very honest expressions and when someone says something stupid or uninteresting they are more willing to show their uninterested while most are just willing to smile and take it out of being polite. This is why they can come off as rude or snobbish but really the just don’t have time for bullshit. (I definitely think Wednesday Addams has this placement) many don’t know they are being rude but most don’t have the energy to be fake if they really don’t like what the others saying. Very Real people many mistake them for being Scorpio risings.

Venus in Scorpios were probably shamed a lot for their their sex appeal/drives. I notice these people have a very provocative vibe to them that causes a lot of ppl to sexualize them ( especially the women). I’ve seen women with this placement be virgins and still get slut shamed. People always assume they sleep with mad people even if it’s not true.

Moon in 5th housers are actually very secretive about their talents. A lot are so talented but most tend to keep their hobbies and interests to themselves unless they really trust you.

When someone with Venus in the 7th house likes you they will talk about their future a lot with you. This one guy had a big crush on me and would always joke about getting married and starting a life someday ( he made it sound as a joke but in a way I can tell he meant it). Also can be obsessed with weddings. I have a friend with this placement who says she’ll only wanna get married to experience having her dream wedding lol

Venus in 2nd house women always have people buying them things bro. They don’t even have to ask and men will be buying them expensive gifts or paying for their food or trips. Definition of pretty privilege.

Mars in Aquarius like very eccentric things in bed. It’s almost like they enjoy the opposite of what should be expected in bed. Like the women would like to take normally the male role in bed and vice versa a man with this placement could like a very submissive role. The weirder and more out of place the more turned on they get. Can also be really experimental they are willing to try anything once even if it’s outlandish.

Mars in Aries are usually natural athletes. They have amazing endurance and can become pros faster than most.

Virgo moons usually have bad stomach problems or eating disorders. They are also always giving unsolicited advice no one asked for. They feel this need to solve everything but it can come off as kinda judgmental.

Mars in Pisces are usually victims to bullying. They usually have a hard time asserting themselves and standing up so they get pushed around a lot easier by stronger more dominant energies.

Cap moons are always in denial of their feelings

Mars Square Venus synastry can be really awkward at times in a friendship. Theres this bizarre sexual and touchy tension usually that both aren’t fully comfortable with. The mars person can come off a little too strong and can treat the Venus as if they own them. This attraction can be one sided sometimes with the mars person wanting the Venus and the Venus getting repulsed and distancing themselves. I’ve seen the mars person get jealous if the Venus would hang out with others whether it be other friends or family. And if the Venus is dating someone else this can get really heated on the mars end. Venus will feel the attraction but I notice it’s not as strong.

Venus in 5th house synastry is soooooo flirty. These are those cheesy cringey couples that are always acting like little kids around eachother. It’s actually a really sweet placement. This person will be able to bring out your inner child.

Venus in Libras are always crushing on someone. They jump into relationships I think faster than people with Venus in Aries the only difference is that they can maintain longer term partnerships & don’t bore as quick (even if their feelings are a little superficial). They just don’t know what to do with themselves when they are alone.

Scorpio risings I notice get really strong reactions out of people (like Lilith/asc people) their words make others blood boil even if they really don’t say anything offensive or rude. Most people are jealous of their authenticity which is why a lot of Scorpio risings are quiet and not as willing to open up. People just hate on them so intensely for the littlest things. They also have this ability to know if people are genuine or not which can be intrusive to certain people causing intense reactions. They can see thru everyone’s mask which can make other feel uncomfortable to be around them. This is why they usually have few friends and the friends they do have are as authentic as themselves. Literal human lie detectors

Men that have a water sun with a water moon are BIG SIMPS

Cancer sun women will be passively rude to you if they don’t like you or are jealous of you. They won’t straight say it but they will say little comments in a nice way that’s actually really rude. Then usually play victim if confronted

Everyone’s crush in high-school was either a Scorpio sun or a Libra sun/rising. Tell me I’m lying

[theorderisgone]

ꕀ ﹒Under the Same Sky

PAIRING // KARASU TABITO X GN!READER

SUMMARY // Amid years of playful rivalry, Karasu Tabito subtly reveals his long-held feelings for you during a rainy walk home, leaving you questioning the true nature of your relationship.

CONTENTS // oneshot, fluff, academic rivals to lovers, pre blue lock, ooc (??) karasu. wc 681

Karasu Tabito had always been good at keeping secrets. His talent for masking emotions was as sharp as his instinct on the soccer field or his knack for solving equations in record time. But there was one secret he couldn’t shake, no matter how much he tried: he’d liked you since middle school.

Not that you’d ever notice.

You were his academic rival, after all. The one person who could make his blood race for reasons he’d never admit. Since the day you walked into his life—head held high, confidence radiating like the sun—Karasu had been hooked. Not that he’d ever let it show. Instead, he let the rivalry take center stage, a perfect excuse to keep you close without revealing too much.

It was late in the evening after school, and the two of you were stuck in the library. Finals were around the corner, and neither of you would back down from the unspoken competition of who could study harder—or longer. The rain pattered against the tall windows, the only sound besides the occasional rustle of pages and the rhythmic tapping of your pen against the table.

“Do you always fidget when you’re stuck on a problem?” Karasu teased, leaning back in his chair. His sharp eyes flicked up from his notes to you, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

You shot him a glare, tapping your pen harder just to annoy him. “Do you always run your mouth when you’re pretending to study?”

“Pretending?” he echoed, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m a genius at multitasking.”

“You’re a genius at being obnoxious.”

He chuckled, kicking his legs up onto the empty chair beside you. “That too.”

By the time the library announced its impending closure, the rain had only gotten worse. You gathered your notes and textbooks, trying to figure out how to make it to the train station without ruining all your hard work.

Karasu slung his bag over his shoulder, lingering as you struggled to balance everything. “You really gonna walk in this storm?”

“Do I have a choice?” you muttered, double-checking that your notes were safely tucked away.

He shrugged, his usual smirk replaced by something softer. “Guess not. But you could let me carry that.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why? So you can hold it over my head later?”

“Nah,” he said casually, but his tone was surprisingly genuine. “Just thought I’d help.”

You hesitated, but eventually handed him one of your textbooks. “Fine. But if you drop it, I’m never letting you live it down.”

“Deal.”

The two of you walked side by side under the dim glow of streetlights, the rain soaking through your shoes as Karasu balanced your book in one hand and held his bag with the other.

“You know,” he said after a long stretch of silence, “we’ve been doing this for a while.”

“Doing what?”

“This. The whole ‘rivals’ thing.”

You glanced at him. “What about it?”

“It’s just...” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? How we’re always trying to one-up each other.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Funny how?”

He shrugged, staring straight ahead. “I dunno. Guess I just... don’t mind it as much as I used to.”

That made you pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Karasu tilted his head, smirking down at you. “You’re sharp, aren’t you? Figure it out.”

You frowned, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. But before you could ask, he changed the subject, his voice light and teasing again.

“You know, I’m still gonna beat you on the next test.”

“Oh, please.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Keep dreaming,” he said with a laugh, but the faintest hint of pink dusted his cheeks as he glanced away, hiding his expression.

And for the first time, as the two of you walked through the rain, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind his playful words—something he wasn’t quite ready to say aloud.

author's note // idk how to feel about this one lowkey. kinda wna write a rin version of this, but we'll see how it goes!!

[fastboatsmojito]

Hi lovely!! Biggest congrats on 100 followers! Can I request ❛ when was the last time someone fucked you? ❜ and ❛ stop teasing and just put it in already. ❜ for Carmy?

( the whore in me wants to ask for roommate au but pls feel free to do whatever speaks to you)

YEAHHHHH

“When was the last time someone fucked you” + “stop teasing and just put it in already” from these smutty dialogue prompts for my 100 followers party!

| a/n; I can’t stop writing these softer than I mean to I’m sorry 😭

| cw; 18+ smut btc !! Roommate trope, he’s a little mean if u squint but not really, fingering, implied PnV, filthy fingers in ur mouth ?? lmao

| wc; 794

You kept telling yourself it was good that you were just roommates, there was zero chance you’d be able to deal with all the late nights and constant steady-stream-of-busyness that seemed to follow him around anyway.

And you’d be correct if it wasn’t also the hardest thing you’ve ever done, having to keep your thoughts to yourself whenever he’d walk around the apartment in those tight white t-shirts. Mentally cursing yourself for not looking away and cursing him all the same for being so clueless.

You ignored it for a while, biting back jokes about how he got so toned working in restaurants as he walked into the kitchen for a snack after a shower, towel sitting just above his v-line that you’d convince yourself wasn’t haunting you - following him with your eyes anyway.

You kept it all to yourself for both yours and Carmys sake, not wanting to ruin one of the steadiest relationships in his life, even if he did feel the same way.

Though it got increasingly harder when you couldn’t compensate with other people anymore - the dating scene in Chicago was rough and it showed, coming back home after your roommate for the first time since you could remember after a disappointing date.

He was on the couch when you walked in, sighing as you took off your shoes and smiling to yourself when you looked over to see him half asleep on the couch. Likely exhausted from work, waking himself up only when the remote fell out of his hands resting over the top of the couch.

He stretched his arms before looking at you, giving you one of those classic carmy sleepy smiles you could only describe as subconscious.

“Hey, how’d your date go?” He asked, sitting up and scooting over to give you room to sit down. You didn’t feel like getting into it really, especially not when he was so liable to coax a secret out of you.

“Shitty?” He answered for you when you didn’t respond, slumping down into the couch and nodding.

“Not great, yeah.”

“Sorry.” He hummed in understanding and said it sincerely, like he’d done something wrong, reaching a hand over to squeeze your shoulder. And maybe you were just sleepy too, just emotionally exhausted and clinging onto the warmth radiating from his palm but he didn’t move it away, letting his hand linger until you looked back over at him.

Speaking your name into the low-lit room, his voice blending into the usual Chicago winds outside the window, and surely he wasn’t actually looking at you like that. Like he was trying to figure out how to make it up to you, trying to solve all your problems in his own head.

He mumbled something to himself then, when you shifted in your seat and your dress rode up just above your mid thigh. You didn’t hear it really, but all the sleepiness on his face was suddenly gone.

“When’s the last time someone fucked you?” He said it so abrupt and casually you thought you made it up, taken aback as he just looked at you, hand unmoving on your shoulder.

“I don’t, uh-“ You shook your head, trying to wake yourself up for what was obviously a dream, taking a deep breath before answering him when he didn’t take your confusion as an opening to explain himself.

“It’s been awhile, I guess.” You shrugged, crossing your arms when he moved his hand from your shoulder.

“Mhm. That’s all you need, isn’t it? Staring at me all the time like you want something, so why don’t take it?” He was challenging you, tempting you to do the very thing you’d just gotten good at convincing yourself not to do.

Leaning back against the couch, his lap practically inviting you in as you waited for your brain to let your body do what it was screaming at you to do, and finally giving up when he patted his lap like he was giving you permission.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He was even better than you’d imagined, leisurely working you open with his fingers just enough that you were ready for him and begging for more, retracting them only when your absentminded praises got less and less coherent.

“Carmy, stop teasing and put it in already.” You pleaded, nails digging into his back as he admired the string connecting his still-wet fingers.

“You telling me what to do now?” He scolded, and if you weren’t seconds away from getting what you’d waited so long for you might have built up the courage to be been a little meaner.

“Please.”

“Patience.” He corrected, leaning over you to guide his fingers into your mouth, warm lips meeting your head when you opened your mouth to accommodate them.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[zyonicorn]

Click to Start Chatting

Many months ago, I met my girlfriend through an app called “V-loop”. It was an app for meeting new people, and there was a function for you to follow people you liked and chat with them, though the requirement was that the other person had to follow you too.

The first time I saw her profile, I was hesitating if I should follow her or not, but she's literally my type. “Let’s just give it a try.” I stared at the “@_zyozyo/ 106 followers/ 5 following” for a few seconds, then clicked “follow” eventually.

I don't even know if she liked girls, all I knew was her name, Jihyo, which kept lingering in my mind. She was so gorgeous, every picture seemed like a piece of art, that I didn't even deserve to savor. 

“Click to start chatting”

It was my third time checking the chat session in an hour, my heart skipped a beat when I saw the line, indicating she followed me back.

“Hey there! Are you y/n?”

Yes! Nice to meet you 🫣

“Why’d you follow me?”

Cuz you look easy to get along with :)

“I see.. You’re cute”

Her direct expression made you don't know how to answer for a moment.

Thanks..?

The chat continued. The two of you started to share about your daily lives, people you've met, what you had for lunch. In just a week, you got closer to Jihyo that she told you about her work, stress, and some personal matters.

“Y/n.. I'm pretty frustrated lately.”

What’s wrong??

Everything sounded normal, just like how you usually chat with her.

“I don't know if I should tell you but..”

“What I meant by ‘frustrated’ is sexually.”

Oh um, but why are you telling me about this?

“I want you to solve it for me.”

Though you were really, really shocked by her straightforward words, you still replied right away, just to hide the fact that you were panicking, staring at the screen while your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

I mean, why me? We met online and you’ll never know who I actually am.

There are many scams nowadays, and despite being shocked, you’re also worried about Jihyo.

“Cuz I know I can trust you. I have my reasons, just say yes or no.”

“Of course, I won't force you if you don't want to, it's my personal problem after all.”

She’s so thoughtful, that your heart pounds faster for her again.

Well, sure I can help you. But it's not as easy as it’s said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll book a hotel room and send you the address. All you have to do is go there and help me out.”

She sent you a link right away, booked tomorrow, a whole day. She doesn't sound nervous or embarrassed anymore, unlike you, who still not believe your type asked you out, for sex.

That night you barely slept, the only 3 hours of sleep, you had a dirty dream about Jihyo. You woke up at 6, found your underwear wet. “What the fuck…” you breathe out, without thinking much, you change quickly and have a shower.

The time she suggested was 8, at a cafe near the hotel, so the two of you can have a small chat and get to know each other.

“I’m over here, Jihyo-ssi!” you waved while tipping your toes, trying to maintain your smile and not faint from the beauty of the woman approaching in baggy jeans and a white ruffled top.

“Hey there!! Oh…” she suddenly stopped talking, looking up and down at you. You thought you looked messy, or maybe disappointing her because you looked different from the picture, so you quickly fixed your posture and pulled your shirt straight.

“What’s the matter?” you hesitated before asking, the woman’s bright confident expression seemed to soften a little. She looked back into your eyes and smiled kindly, your face exposing your nervousness. “Nothing, but you’re even cuter than I thought” she calmly said. 

You blushed at her words, which Jihyo noticed right away. She smiled even more that it pushed her cheeks up perfectly. 

“Alright, let’s go in.” her arm wrapped around your shoulder, while you blushed even harder from her warm touch. She helped you with your chair, then sat at your opposite. Looking at you, she asked “Do you want to drink something?” though you had mentally prepared for what would happen today already, you’re still shy about being in front of Jihyo.

“N-no, thanks. I’ve had my breakfast,” you responded. “Okay. Our check-in is at  9, so why don't we have a small talk first?” she started the topic. The chat between you two sounded just like how you chatted online. Her friendly tone eased your anxiety. 

The chat went well, she started to brush your leg with her shoes. Leaning closer to you across the table, she asked, “Why don't we head off to the hotel now? It’s almost time.” her smirk showed her excitement.

“Sure” You got up as she held your hand, like a normal couple, though you were too timid to hold her back until her fingers crossed yours.

On your 5 minutes way to the hotel, you started the conversation. “Don’t get me wrong but, have you done this many times before?” you asked after hesitating.

“Done what?” “Like- having sex with people you met online?” you asked, though it’s hard to say it out loud. “Oh honey, what makes you think that?” she looked surprised for a moment, but fixed her expression quickly. “I-I mean, you’re all calm from the start, I wonder if you’re experienced,” you explained yourself.

“I did have sex before, with my ex-boyfriend. But he never satisfied me. We broke up and I'm feeling empty. So I wanted to try it with a woman, then you showed up.” she said. You were kind of confused, are you that extraordinary? You never found yourself attractive. That's what you asked Jihyo, she replied, “You’re kind and caring. Have some confidence in yourself! I found it really comfortable to be with you.”

That's almost a confession, you thought. Maybe confidence is what you lack. The two of you stepped into the hotel hall. It was big and the atmosphere was peaceful. The receptionist handed Jihyo the key as she took care of everything. 

There’s a big window in the room, with a large bed for two. The fact that you’re having sex with this beautiful woman hit you suddenly. Your heart pounded faster and faster, you tried to hide your blush while bending over to take off your shoes. Jihyo was faster than you, she put her bag aside and sat on the edge of the bed.

She pats her side, signaling you to sit there. The bed was soft and clean, the sheet felt cold like your hands. “So.. Do you want to start?” “S-sure” you answered, but you have no idea how to do it. 

She smirked and leaned closer, her face hovering above yours. “Maybe I’ll begin first,” she whispered and tilted her head so she could kiss your lips. The first kiss was soft, like testing the water. You closed your eyes, feeling her moist lip on yours, slowly opening your mouth and her tongue slipped in smoothly. It was as hot as you imagined, your hands reached for her shirt to pull her closer. She smiled at your eagerness, as you get turned on more and more.

The sound of heavy breathing filled the room, along with the sound you and Jihyo’s mouths made. You sneaked your hand down to Jihyo’s crotch, another to her tit. Feeling the temperature passing through the clothes, unlike your cold hands, she seems to be hot.

“Can you take the lead?” she noticed that you relaxed a bit, then asked softly while pulling away. “So we’re starting right now?” you smirked. You've thought of pushing her into the bed directly, but you know it’s polite and necessary to ask, you’re the one pleasuring her today, anyway.

“Sure, if you can,” she said and pulled you into a kiss, more passionate than before. Her soft whimpers are leading you to release your need, you press her into the bed, straddling her while kissing. “Take those off,” you said. She pulled her shirt and blouse, and you took off her jeans, leaving her underwear on.

You gasped from seeing her boobs spring free, they’re bigger than they looked like when she was wearing her bra and the shirt. “How do you want me to please you?” you asked while drawing slow circles on her abs.

“Suck on my tits and finger me, I know you want it,” she smiled in anticipation, while you were still not moving your gaze away from her breasts. 

You leaned down and grabbed her tits with both hands, though you couldn't fully hold on them. Enveloping one of her nipples with your lips, she felt your hot breath fanning her skin and your cold hands at the same time, feeling the sensation while giving out soft whines.

She guides one of your hands to her abs, then underwear. You pressed into her clit through the fabric softly, making Jihyo moan even louder.

You moved to the side of her and sat up, playing with her chest with one hand and another rubbing her clothes clit. 

“You’re dripping,” you smirked and circled even faster, brushing her slit occasionally. “For you, love” her voice unsteady. Love? She just called me love? That name is melting you on the inside, but you have to act calm.

“Can I take it off?” you asked while reaching for the strap of her underwear. She immediately nodded. It was a white normal underwear, matching her bra. 

A string of juice connected the cloth and her pussy, you didn't expect she would be this “juicy”. You cut the string with your finger and playfully licked it. She looked at you staring at her pussy, “Taste it” her voice was soft, you didn't catch what she was saying- or rather you would say, you didn't believe what she was saying.

“Sorry?” you asked her to repeat. She said again, “Eat me.” This time you made sure you didn't hear her wrong. You’ve never licked a pussy, you don’t know how to make Jihyo comfortable with your mouth.

“Tell me if it hurts,” you still asked just in case. She nodded and closed her eyes, “don’t push yourself too much just because of me, love” she said. You took off your clothing, naked while your face hovered on Jihyo’s pussy. She was being so thoughtful, to be honest, just by chatting with her, you thought she would use you like a sex toy. But turns out she cares about your feelings too.

You lapped your hot tongue onto her clit, feeling your saliva dropping from the roof of your mouth. Jihyo curled her legs and let out a whimper. “Just go for it, baby. I can’t wait” She sounded weak, almost begging you. And of course, you would obey this perfect woman. 

You sucked her clit and folds into your mouth, her juice covering your lips. Jihyo’s mouth fell open, she gasped and exhaled heavily under your touch. She’s so sensitive that you wanted to tease her. You flicked your tongue on her clit and fanned your breath on her pussy.

“S-suck me just like how you did..” she spoke up and her fist clenched onto the hotel’s bed sheet.

You remember you’re here to satisfy Jihyo, so you decided to stop teasing her. You took her clit into your mouth, saliva mixed with her juice. It’s something you’ve never tasted before, tastier than anything else.

It’s time, you thought. Putting your tongue into her cunt, it was moist and warm. Her tight wall clenched, although your jaw was sore, you didn’t stop. You started to bob your your head, paying attention to Jihyo’s breathing.

“Hmph-” her noises sharp but short, legs bending uncontrollably. Her back started to arch, she held your head and tried to fuck your face. You kept yourself in place and licked her sweet spot, her moans getting denser and denser.

Her juice squeezed onto your face, some dropped into the sheet below. Her eyelid was half closed, she panted heavily.

You lay next to her, she hugged you and kissed your lips eagerly. You thought she would need some rest, but it was the complete opposite. You looked up, “what’s next?”

She stared into your eyes, lust and desire filled her gaze.

“Now let mommy treat you nice and well, as the payback for the wonderful work you’ve just done.”

Mommy? What does she mean? Your brain did not really register her words. But that doesn’t matter, she flipped you so now you’re on your stomach. Your juice oozed out from hearing her moans just now, making your crotch a mess.

She leaned onto you, her hot wet pussy right under your ass cheek. You felt Jihyo’s chest pressed onto your back as her hand moved slowly from your upper back to your ass, then your wet needy cunt, the trail of touch her fingertip left giving you a chill in your spine.

She rubbed your clit and folds forcefully, teasing around the entrance. Her delicate touches don't feel like it’s her first time with a woman. She knows everything you need, every bit of skin is caressed.

Her hand moved around your stomach and went under it, giving her a better angle to touch your pussy. It went between the bed and your skin, hot and moist, you don’t know if it’s her sweat or your slick.

She started to circle your clit ruthlessly, your muffled moans covered by the pillow that you buried your face in. You felt Jihyo starting to grind her pussy on the back of your thigh, slick coating your skin as pleasure builds in your body. 

 Her bare pussy grinding on your leg, she rocked her hips with desire, while working on your clit with her fingers. “Oh god you sound so good” she moans and praises every sound you make. Pressing your head into the pillow even more, you felt the suffocation. Mind blank, only the knot in your stomach slowly unraveling, and tied tight again every time she slow down to tease. 

Your head spins and cunt clenches as she circle her fingers. She noticed your moans and softened to tease. “L-let me cum-” You raised your head, didn't notice the tears on your face. Sweat stuck your hair on your face, making you look messy.

“Call me mommy” she commanded. Maybe it’s her “kink”, you obeyed her immediately. “M-mommy please” you breathed out.

She sped up her fingers, the sound of wetness sent to your ears. You felt like you were almost blacking out. 

The knot in your core seems to be releasing, slowly consuming the little sanity left in your mind. Your feet clasped Jihyo’s hand in between, your moans becoming denser, you felt like someone was holding onto your lungs, not letting you breathe. Jihyo’s voice was right next to your ear, your back arching up from time to time as you felt Jihyo speeding up on your thigh. “Fuck” you heard her faintly breathe out. She sounds angelic, you would love to keep fucking her just to hear her again.

“Hmph-!!” you squeezed your eyes shut, almost crying out of pleasure. The organisms washed through your body completely, Jihyo’s juice coated your thigh, she hugged you tight and continued to draw circles on your clit, until you have fully ridden out your climax.

She took her hand out, dripping with your water. You couldn't move at all, mind blank, vision blurred. The bed sheet was all wet, you felt Jihyo’s honey going down your flesh. You uncontrollably shivered, slick still slowly flowing out of your cunt.

In Jihyo’s eyes, your face is washed red, cum dripping, hair stuck onto your face because of your sweat and tears, your mouth slightly opened, heavily breathing, while you shivered hard.

Jihyo sucked the slick on her fingers, and cleaned you up with her mouth. You felt her tongue going from your thigh to your dripping pussy. She sucked on it a few times, you felt your sensitive cunt go through some tiny organisms as she licked you up.

She flipped you over, looking at you from above with a big smile on her face. “Messy” She kissed you as you pulled her into your body. Your words were still shaky, “I’ve never had such great sex ever” “I think I might be addicted.” 

She sat up and put her head onto her thigh, you’re now lying as Jihyo strokes your hair softly. “Then we should do this often.” She looked at you and said. You smiled, if you do this often, you think you might be ‘used up’ one day.

“Rest for a while. I’ll help you with the shower later.”

You fell asleep. She softly said to your ears, “Thank you.”

-

Pretty much rushed, I’m not satisfied with this fic but I don't want to keep you guys waiting :( sry for the low quality and the long waitttt

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Heya! I love your "half a bed" fic!!

You said to drop any "only one bed"-trope ideas in your inbox so I'm hoping I did this correctly? But I'm thinking for Asterion x Tav that since Cazador controlled Star so much, he doesn't really own anything for himself? And maybe Tav notices and because the others are already asleep, she offers for him to share her bedroll? He's snarky and rude and she's unimpressed but it's the start of a mutual very strong infatuation and eventually relationship?

Heyo sorry it took so long!! Had some trouble overcoming the writer's block for this but hey I did it in the end! Hope you like it!

"I don't recall giving you my bedroll." You raise an eyebrow at the pale elf who has taken to using your bedroll every night ever since you first offered to share it with him.

He yawns, flashing his fangs at you before grinning, "we're sharing it, are we not? That means I have every right to lie on it."

"It doesn't mean you can take up the whole thing! Where am I going to sleep?" You attempt to shove him to one side but he refuses to budge an inch. "Move!"

"Nope." He pops the 'p' on purpose, knowing it will irritate you. You scowl and shove harder, half ruing the night you offered to share your bedroll. He laughs at your futile attempts, a genuine smile playing on his lips until you give up and flop onto him, causing him to yelp in surprise. You glower when he complains about you being too heavy, giving his side an annoyed poke but you can't really bring yourself to be mad at him even if he just stole your sleeping spot.

Then again, you always had a soft spot for the vampire spawn.

The first time he shared your bedroll was early on in your adventures. Everyone else had gone to sleep but he had remained outside, seated by the dwindling fire with the excuse that he wasn't tired yet. You'd woken up in the middle of the night to relieve yourself, noticing that even though the fire was long gone, he remained outside his tent.

"Still not tired?" You ask, slightly concerned.

"No." He answers curtly, leaving no room for further questions. You sit next to him, much to his chagrin and he shifts away ever so slightly. You notice it, of course, but choose not to comment on it.

"You should still try and trance, you'll need your strength for tomorrow," you hum, looking up at the night sky. The stars are bright tonight, shining in stark contrast to the dark sky.

"Shouldn't you take your own advice?" He snorts.

"Well, I'm not the one who has been out here the whole time," you retort, suppressing a yawn. He notices, however, the twitch of the corners of your lips and rolls his eyes.

"Go and sleep, idiot. Can't have our dear leader collapsing midway because they didn't get enough rest can we now?"

"Is that concern I hear?" You smirk.

"No." He scowls, sending a glare your way. You give him a look of disbelief, which then morphs into amusement and you grin.

"You're terrible at hiding it you know?" You huff, giving an amused shake of your head.

"Hiding what?"

"Your concern for my well-being."

"What concern?"

"That concern." You fold your arms across your chest, undeterred.

"Tch, stop bothering me and go back to sleep." He snaps, looking away. You, however, remain undaunted by his attitude.

"Is there a reason you can't trance?"

"Stop it and go back to sleep."

"There has to be a reason. Nightmares perhaps?"

"Shut up and stop asking so many questions."

"I'm trying to help you here."

"Then stop trying to help me. I don't need it."

"You don't want it, you mean."

"Yes, finally, you get it. Now leave."

"No." Your response surprises him.

"No?" He asks incredulously. "What do you mean no?"

"I'm not going to leave you to deal with your problems alone. We may not be friends yet, but we are companions. If you're stuck dealing with your own problems, you're not going to be able to fully contribute to the party and that's an issue. So we're going to solve it together, with me helping in whatever way I can and you doing the rest." You put your hands on your hips, daring him to talk back.

"And what if you can't do anything to help solve 'my problems'?" He sneers.

"Then I'll accept it and rely on you less so you can sort your own issues out first." His eyes widen slightly and you can see the panic that flashes across his face. Your heart aches upon seeing his reaction but you steel yourself, reminding yourself that it is for the greater good of the party.

"I —" He pauses, looking down. He sighs, looking back up at you reluctantly, all the fight having left his body. "I don't exactly have a bed roll to sleep in, you see. Cazador never allowed any of his spawn to have any personal belongings, everything belonged to him and he 'loaned it to us out of the kindness of his heart'. Trancing on hard ground is…difficult."

"We can share my bed roll if you're comfortable. Each of us can take a half, it should be big enough for us both."

He blinks, surprised. "Are you…sure? We…" He swallows hard.

"We've slept together before, don't tell me you're squeamish about sharing a bed roll." You raise an eyebrow.

"I'm not. It's just that…"

"Don't worry. I'm not some horny bastard who can't go a night without lying with someone. We can have our own side of the bed roll, no physical contact required." He still looks uncertain, and you sigh. You can't exactly fault him, he's dropped enough hints about certain aspects of his past and you're not going to tear open any of those wounds.

He laughs, the sound ringing hollow. "Are you sure about that, darling? It would suit my taste better if you were~"

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "Yeah, right. Anyways, are you going to take me up on my offer or not?"

"I'll take you up on it if you don't mind, darling." His usual smirk replaces the quiet sad look on his face.

"Well, come on then. We don't have much time left."

You can't help but smile upon remembering that night. He'd come so far since that night, the two of you had grown more comfortable with each other, and even after you had bought a bed roll for him, he still preferred sneaking into your tent to steal half your bed roll.

"What are you smiling about?" He pokes your cheek with a huff.

"Nothing." You grin. He rolls his eyes in response, running a hand through your hair. You bury your face in his chest, letting the gentle feeling wash over you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, loving the way you sprawl on top of him without a care in the world. He's a vampire, for goodness sake, and yet you bare your neck to his fangs like that, not the least bit worried he take advantage of the situation and drain you.

"Hmph." He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling into your hair. As much as he complains about it, your weight is comforting. It reminds him that he isn't alone anymore, that he has you to turn to when he needs someone to lean on, and that you have him to lean on in return.

"Good night, Star." You yawn cutely, stretching your limbs.

"Good night, love." He murmurs back, pressing one last kiss to your head before he drifts off into a trance. You watch him for a while, smiling softly at the way he slowly relaxes as the trance takes hold, worries forgotten for the night.

Wrapped in the cocoon of your vampire lover, you too drift off and let sleep claim you, knowing that when you wake, he will be the first thing you see just as he's always the last thing you see before you sleep.

[until-the-house-shakes]

Our Little Family

Werewolf!Regulus // Wolfstar Raising young Regulus

Microfic

-

Taking care of an ten year old is hard. Taking care of your ten year old brother, whom you gained custody of because his parents disowned him due to him turning into a werewolf, was even harder.

At the ripe age of twenty one, Sirius had to care for two lycanthropic, stubborn, ill-tempered boys. One of which he hasn’t seen for nearly seven years. At first it was difficult, Regulus did not care for any help or company at all- if Sirius tried talking to him in any fashion, the kid flipped out. It was as if he saw him as a stranger or even worse, their parents.

It took a few months, a particularly bad full moon, and a ton of patience but Regulus slowly become comfortable around the married couple.

Now, Regulus has been in their lives for almost a full year, and their relationship couldn’t be better!The young werewolf was set up to go to Hogwarts this coming September, with Remus as his DADA Professor, and while Sirius was nervous to send both his boys with ‘furry problems’ off two hours away- he knew that Regulus was the safest he could ever be with Remus.

In fact, Regulus actually preferred being with Remus over Sirius. If Sirius was the professor staying at Hogwarts, there might have been a million and one problems (including a war) but Remus? Sirius has no doubts in his mind about the wellbeing of his baby brother when Remus is in charge; and this morning seals the deal completely.

**

Sirius woke up late into the night to an empty bed, which was odd, normally he was the one out of bed at the oddest hours of the night, not Remus- especially not so close to the full moon. Two days before the moon means Remus is either sleeping heavily, fucking Sirius into the mattress, or eating the entire kitchen. But the other two only happens when Sirius is awake, so it’s odd for him to not be in bed while Sirius is also in bed.

“Rem? Are you in the loo?” Sirius called out, hoping his husband will respond from their ensuite.

Moments passed. And nothing.

“Well then, guess I’m going Moony hunting.” Sirius mumbled to himself as he stumbled out bed, wearing nothing but Remus’ old sleep pants from school- which are still too big for Sirius even now. While half asleep, Sirius trudged throughout the house, starting with the kitchen, then the library, sitting room, guest bathroom, garden, balcony, and even the carport, but he couldn’t find Remus anywhere. He was starting to get a little worried as he headed to the last room in the house- Regulus’ bedroom- because he had little hope to find the werewolf there. Sure the two had a wonderful relationship, and Regulus always went to Remus to solve midnight problems, but HE always went to REMUS, not the other way around.

Of course the older man didn’t mind it at all, it warmed his heart and gave him a blissful feeling of domesticity each morning he woke up to find his eleven year old brother sandwiched in between himself and Remus, sleeping calmly when he knows for a fact he rarely ever gets a good nights rest. Regulus knew that neither men were bothered by him showing up at odd hours in the night, and asking to sleep with them, so it was very worrying to picture any reason behind why Remus is in this room and Regulus isn’t currently being cuddled into peaceful dreams in Sirius’ room.

As he walked closer to the door, the slight gravel tone to his husband’s Welsh accent became audible, “if you stretch each morning and night, Cub, the cramps get easier to deal with, and once you’re old enough for wolfsbane, that will also help tremendously.”

Oh.

That’s why Remus was in Regulus’ room for a change, the poor kid was probably in way too much pain to get out of bed, let alone walk across the house to get to his guardians.

With a guilty sigh, Sirius gently knocked on Regulus’ door and waited until a soft ‘come in’ to enter the room. The image he walked in on was maybe the sweetest thing he has ever seen; laying in the small twin sized bed, was Remus (who had part of his legs dangling off the foot of the bed) and laying smack dab on top of the giant, getting his hair played with, was a pouting Regulus.

“Hey Mon Ètoile, what’s going on? Why are you two having a party without me?” Sirius chuckled, trying his hardest to hide how much he dreaded hearing the answer. When Regulus only shrugged and hide his face further into the curve of Remus’ neck, the werewolf took it upon himself to answer, “He was in a lot of pain because of the upcoming full moon. I heard him whimpering when I got up to wee, and I smelled how distressed he was, so I came in here to check on him. I gave him some pain potion but it’s working as good on him as it does me during this time so.” Remus shrugged, twirling a small black curl around his pointer finger.

While it wasn’t the best of news, the explanation still managed to calm Sirius down quite a bit. Regulus wasn’t in any type of danger, he was just in a lot of pain. Pain they all three can handle and make better.

“Well lucky for you, I know the best remedy for pain. Worked on Moony for years! Wanna hear it?” Sirius asked as he walked close enough to the bed to sit down on the edge, close to Remus’ hip.

“… it’s not something stupid is it?” Regulus mumbled, resulting in a laugh from Remus and an exaggerated gasp from his older brother.

“No! I think you’ll actually love it. Ice cream, hot chocolate and some muggle cartoons. What do you say Mon Ètoile?” Sirius was now gently rubbing his brother’s back, trying his best to not jostle him or make any cramping worse.

“Oh that does cure a lot of pain. I think you should try it cub.” Remus agreed before placing a kiss on the top of Regulus’ head, effectively making Regulus relax more and melt Sirius’ heart.

“Fine, but I pick what we watch and I get carried down the stairs.” Before Regulus could even finish his terms, Sirius was already out of bed and in the process of picking up his brother and adjusting him to carry bridle-style. “Oh of course, can’t have the little prince move a muscle. This night is suppose to relax you, not make you work.” The older brother scoffed playfully, walking out of the room and heading towards their sitting room downstairs.

Hours passed, and neither of the three boys managed to get any sleep, but after two rounds of Hot Chocolate (followed by a round of tea), THREE rounds of ice cream, and a full season of Phineas and Ferb, the young Werewolf managed to forget about his pain and fully relax into the only two adults he ever could trust.

[nanaminsmoon]

what do you think about suburban eren & hood princess reader 🤭 people think that we running shit but in reality and especially behind closed doors it’s a different storyyy + he’s a little mean

heyyy so this took a while because life was really lifeing and girl i wasn't sure how to write it because i'm also from the suburbs in england so i felt like writing about babes from ends wouldn't translate properly. but i hope it's okay lol😭

cw: pnv, fingering, unprotected sex, n word usage, orgasm denial, eren lives with his parents but they're out of the house doing rich people shit idk😭

wc: 1916

”’r-ren, i said i’m-m sorr-rry”, each word you slurred out only left your mouth because eren was fucking you hard enough to knock it out of you. eren’s hips moved quickly, but he was still so deep inside you that you could’ve sworn you could feel him in your damn lungs—his tip slamming all the air out of them. your fingertips desperately tried to grapple at the desk underneath you, as one of eren’s hands wrapped around your throat and the other sat on your hip. the minimal lighting coming from his desk lamp ricocheted off the layer of sweat on your body to illuminate your skin and, any other day, lip shaped patches of moisture would join it. but today was unlike other days, because today was one of the few days where your chill, romantic eren reminded you that he wasn’t a doormat.

”’cause i live in a house like this you think you can keep playin’ with me?”, eren moved his hand from your throat to rub on your clit, and your head fell back to lean on his chest. there was no way you could give him a verbal answer, so you just shook your head furiously.

”hm? i’m too nice to you, you think you can walk all over me? ‘s that it?”, he asked, both his fingers and hips still not letting up. so the aggressive head shaking that followed that question was both in response, and frustration.

”fucking answer me when i speak to you”, his own jaw clenched, just as his grip on yours tightened. and, although eren was making it harder for you to speak with both the way he was fucking you, and the harsh hand on your jaw, you tried your best to whine out an answer,

”n-no”, in which eren would reply with a kiss to his teeth.

from the outside looking in, eren was your bitch. that’s what everyone called him; to your friends, and family, he was your sweet suburban boy that did everything you told him to, with no arguments. he opened doors for you, pulled chairs out for you, bought you gifts, paid for your hair and nails, and spoke to you like you had placed every individual star in the sky. he was harmless in every essence of the word. maybe even too harmless. you knew how to handle yourself, and took no shit from no one, so spectators would assume that you were eren’s protector; if there was a problem, you were the one to solve it for him. for example, sometimes he just didn’t seem to understand that not everywhere was like his gated community, because this boy would walk to the corner store by your house with the sunlight bouncing off his watch, and his chain just swinging in the wind.

”eren, tuck your fucking chain”, you grabbed the gold jewellery, and put it in his shirt, telling him he had to be careful before he got his shit snatched. in response, eren just shrugged and went about his day.

even though they joked about him being helplessly naive, your friends and family loved eren. a big part of the reason was that they knew he would take good care of you and let you do whatever you wanted to do with no questions asked. and you’d agree, jokingly commenting about him being your ‘babygirl’ or about him being ‘submissive’ when he wasn’t around. underline ‘when he wasn’t around’. because eren was everything but passive—he was just reserved. eren let you pretend you ran shit in public, because he enjoyed watching you dig holes for yourself by acting like you had him on a leash when, in reality, you had to beg for his permission just to nut. other people’s opinions didn’t concern him, but what did was your behaviour. because telling people he was your bitch was one thing. but acting like he was, was another.

like at the party you and eren had gone to with your friends. things had been going great until you started shaking ass on who you thought was ymir. but when you went to look back at it, your eyes were met with those of one of your male best friends. of course you pushed him off you but, the relief that it wasn’t some complete stranger meant that you did so very gently. some would say too gently, and too giggly, for a woman with a boyfriend. but the only thing on your mind at the time was going to the bathroom so you really thought nothing of it. you hadn’t even noticed the green eyes burning holes into the side of your face, until their owner’s hand wrapped around your wrist.

”what was that?”, eren pulled you to the side, and your eyes just rolled. you’d been there for far too long, and you just wanted to go to the damn bathroom then go home. the last thing you needed was drama.

”not now, eren. just leave me alone”, you brushed him off, and eren’s hand quickly released your wrist. others would see eren it as conceding, but you knew better than that—he wasn’t done with you, you’d just have to deal with him later. but that was later you’s problem, so current you was just going to live her best life. that attitude made for an interaction between you and your man that your friend found to be particularly hilarious,

”bitch, i wish my man would listen to me like that.”, she joked, and you laughed back at her.

”right, don’t you just love an obedient nigga?”, you had joked back. of course eren heard everything, but he’d just scoff and head to the door to leave.

even though he opened your car door for you, once you got in the car, eren did not speak a word to you. even as you’d steal glances at him and stroke his thigh, or shoulder, or arm, or cheek, he’d remain stone-faced and keep his eyes on the road. when you finally got back to his house, his silence would persist as he walked you to the door, before taking his shoes off and making his way to his room. he’d left you at the door, so you had to follow after him, with an exhausted scowl on your face. and once you got to his room, you decided to be the bigger person and speak to him first.

”eren, i grew up with him. you need to chill the fuck out”, you yawned, walking over to him. but he’d just scoff at you before his hand would be on your jaw. even still, your mask imitating an unphased expression would not fall. despite the pool of arousal in your underwear at the sudden movement.

”who you tellin’ to chill?”, he spoke lowly, eyes locked with yours. your heart was starting to race, but you wouldn’t back down.

”you. now what?”, those were the words that placed you in the position you were in now; your orgasm denied five times, as your toes painfully dug into your slippers. the van cleef necklace he had bought you slapped into your chest over and over again, as you moaned out his name and ignored apologies. you were forced to endure all of this because eren felt like you weren’t sorry enough. meanwhile, he had already cum once, and he was nearing his second. your pleasure had always been eren’s priority, but today you were just a cocksleeve to him. and he was happy keeping it that way.

begging and pleading for eren to go slower, or be more gentle with you did nothing because he’d just maintain his pace. eren loved you more than he loved himself, so he hated fucking you in a way that insinuated otherwise. but his mind wouldn’t stop replaying what happened at the party; the way that guy touched you, the way you laughed with him as if eren wasn’t literally right there, and the way you made him out to be your lap dog. all that anger travelled to the place where you two connected, and he didn’t realise how hard he was fucking you until he felt his dick twitch inside you.

”i’m gonna cum—”, he groaned onto the space between your neck and shoulder, finally giving it a small kiss. the lewd sounds of skin meeting haphazardly would repeat three more times before it’d cut out, only to be replaced by the sounds falling from your boyfriend’s mouth as he filled you with his seed. he’d stay still so his dick could act as the plug that kept all his nut inside you. confused, and on the brink of getting your own release, you’d just start moving to fuck yourself on his dick. it took eren a few seconds to realise what was happening before he’d hold your hips still, and pull out of you.

”’ren, what about me?”, you cooed, but it all fell on deaf ears as eren was too focused on using his middle and ring finger to collect any dripping nut, to push it back inside you. your entrance practically sucked his fingers inside you, and he wouldn’t fight it. instead curling his fingers and hitting the spot he knew would cause your undoing.

”what about you?”, he chuckled into your ear, kissing and sucking at the lobe. before he’d bite it, earning a wince from your parted lips, ”obedient, yeah? i’m obedient?”, he said in a low taunt.

”y-yeah, you are”, after all that apologising you’d just been doing, eren was surprised to see you being this rebellious. especially towards the same man who was stroking your release with his fingers. that was the same man who reached another hand around to rub your clit again, and started smirking at you tightening around his fingers, signalling your release.

”shit, ‘ren, i’m cumminngg”, you cried out, as your back arched against him.

”hmm”, he pouted, stamping one final gentle kiss on your shoulder before speaking again, ”well then”, were his words as he removed his hands from you.

”what’re you doing?”, you turned to him to see a shit-eating grin on his face. eren hadn’t just robbed your orgasm from you, he had let you get a taste of it, before pulling away when you needed him to continue most. it was like lighting a firework, then throwing a net on it just as it was air bound.

”you asked me to leave you alone, so i’m being obedient and leaving you alone”, he smirked, kissing your temple. he could see the anger growing on your face, and that kiss wasn’t meant to calm it, it was meant to feed it.

”eren, i wanna cum. please”, you pleaded, tears almost falling from your eyes. eren would take one look at you, before he’d start pretending to think about it. the charade ultimately ending in an annoying shrug.

”find an obedient suburban boy to take care of it”, he took a pause to yawn, before pulling his boxers and jeans up, and falling onto his bed, ”i’m tired.”

© Rights owned by nanaminsmooninc. Do not repost without permission.

[altruistichellhound]

Riz, melon and bill x m!reader hcs?

Beastars x m!reader

Riz

He didn’t really understand his feelings at first. Whilst he had no problem being attracted to a guy he couldn’t really tell is it was romantic or platonic. Either way he knew he wanted, more or less needed to be around him.

When he finally figured it out it was romantic attraction he ends up confessing to you. At first he was very nervous that you would reject him, he wasn’t even sure if you liked men! The second you told him you felt the same way he was over the moon.

Riz doesn’t mind PDA but is not particularly very showy. Holding hands is mostly how far it goes, an occasional peck on the cheek.

Your relationship is very public in the sense that people know you are together and you are introduced as his boyfriend. If you are an herbivore he is a little less enthusiastic about sharing however it won’t stop him.

VERY protective. He is definitely more submissive in public settings but in private his dominance comes out. Can be on the controlling side but if you communicate he is more than likely going to listen to what you have to say.

He loves making things with you, small crafts, baking, cooking, creative dates. He’s very sentimental and likes having these little keepsakes!

Good luck sleeping he takes up the whole bed. He chuffs in his sleep but it really is soothing.

Melon

This may or may not make sense but Melon doesn’t have a concept of gender really. He doesn’t consider himself gay, bi, or straight. He considers the world as prey and predator. Thus when he ended up falling in love with a man it was not a big deal.

He’s a little crazy (a lot crazy) so you better hope no one is rude about you too in public. The only thing that he’s sane about is you. This means if he needs to defend you against whatever he deems offensive or disrespectful he will do it with blood spilt.

Sometimes he’s hard to handle. He very much sees the world as his own and his ideas are the right ones. It ends up with arguments that are never solved because he is never wrong. Though he always feels bad afterwards and ends up offering you whatever you want.

He is loud and proud about you, but keeps you away from his criminal life. No one there knows about you for your safety.

He has a matching tattoo with you.

Bill

Denial to the max at first. ESPECIALLY if you’re an herbivore. Tries his best to stay away but constantly runs into you by “accident”.

When you too do end up together at first he wants to keep it quiet. Not that he’s ashamed of you but he is honestly concerned with how people will see him.

You too end up having a conversation and he realizes you are too important not to share with those closest to him.

Literally no one cared. Bill kind of felt embarrassed of this actually. He really built up such a fuss for nothing…

Favorite thing to do with you is eat. He is a big guy and needs lots of food to sustain himself but he always makes sure you eat first. What you don’t eat he’ll finish but he asks you a million times if you’re gonna finish it.

So proud to have you as his boyfriend. He blushed whenever he tells people about you, or when he thinks about how you met. Blushes even harder when dreaming about your future.

PDA is a must have for him, his confidence when out in public with you is unmatched. He needs people to know that you too are together! Hand holding, small kisses, arm always around you.

He can be a little self absorbed but at the end of the day it’s all about you.

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 5

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas, discussion of money/finances.* Financial disparity, a well intentioned surprise, fluff, friends, flirting with your spouse. Summary: Javi solves a problem with a grandiose surprise, and you're not sure how you feel about it at first. Notes: After a brief hiatus we are back! My laptop has been replaced and we should be smooth sailing from here. Happy Sunday, my lovelies!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

Thursday, May 1, 2025 

"Mrs. G, can we get you on set please?" The production assistant that works with Javi to make sure he has everything he needs and is wherever he needs to be has also been assigned to you in the month since work on the film started. Luckily Kyle is a nice kid and enthusiastic, and doesn't mind that he reliably has to knock loudly to make sure he doesn't walk in on the newlyweds in some sort of state of passion. 

"Sure, honey."

Javi has been on set for a little while already so you pocket your phone and hop up from your chair to head inside. The schedule for today has them shooting in just one room, but it's the main character's bedroom and the scene is the first of the clandestine love affair that is being shot. It makes sense that Tamara and Jason might have historical context questions. 

The halls of the great house are lined with rolls of cardboard – RAM board, they call it – to protect the precious antique wood and easily scratch floors. Whole pieces of the architecture like columns are wrapped up in it to shoulder height, and while the look of it was odd and off putting at first, it's familiar now. Like Hazelwood House has been wrapped up in a sort of temporary blanket to keep it safe. 

Up to the second floor and into the south wing of the house, you find Javi sitting with the two actors on an armchair and chaise lounge by the fireplace, staring at the footed panel in front of it. It still jars you to see the cast lounging on exact replicas of Hazelwood's furniture, but it's only because the museum rules (No touching!) have combined with a slight jealousy in your head. The furniture in this house really is fantastic.

“Sweetheart.” As soon as you come into the room, Javi is lighting up, his eyes widen with sparkling happiness as he quickly stands. Moving towards you to meet you halfway in the room, although he refrains from kissing you since he had been told you might not like it at work. “Hey handsome.” Even murmured softly into the air between you as Javi wraps his arms around you for a quick hug, you feel a little more relaxed just being in the same place as him. “You called and I came. How can I help?”

“We have a question about the fireplace.” Even if he doesn’t kiss you, his fingers caress your wrist lovingly as he turns you towards the object in question. “What is this and why is it here?” He asks, pointing to a wood and fabric screen that could not be utilized while there is a fire crackling in the hearth. While Hazelwood has been extremely accommodating, there was to be no real fires in the hearths due to some of the chimneys being blocked off and the risk of an out of control fire being too great. All of the fires would be added by CGI in post production but Javi had noticed the screens still in front of the hearth and needed to know if they would risk it during a fire or if it would be moved and what purpose it served.

"That is a fire screen." The warm radiance of him standing next to you is a fire unto itself and it's a pity you're on set instead of in your shared trailer so you can't melt into him.

"Like...for embers?" Jason asks, brow furrowed. "But it's wood." 

"And cloth!" Tamara objects. 

"I know." You manage to stifle a laugh, but you had the same thought the first time you saw them. "It's technically the predecessor to today's metal fire screens. In function, it's the same. But the main focus here was in keeping direct flame off of people's faces." Shrugging slightly at how silly it might sound to a modern person is the best you can do. "Being flush from the fire or getting any kind of color was looked down on. The paler your complexion, the more obvious it is that you don't have to work or exert yourself in any way."

“So warming the room but not over exposing them to the flames.” Javi frowns slightly. “So they would have the fire going and having the screen in front of it?” He asks, tilting his head towards you for the answer. “We want to make sure we get the shot right.”

"If you want the shot without the screen in place, there could be a throwaway remark about Tamara being flush?" You suggest, chewing your lip as you tilt your head up at him.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Javi looks between the principal cast and then over at the director. “Do you?”

"Screen will be better without live flames." The director hums after a minute of thinking. "Won't have to work as hard on manufacturing the look of the fire. We'll keep the screen."

Javi smiles as he looks back at you. “Thank you for your expertise.” He hums, reaching for your hand to kiss the back of it.

"Do you mind if I stay to watch?" The filming process is slow but fascinating to you, and these people – with the small exceptions of the egotistical producers and snobbish director – are very fun to spend time with. It's much more fun to be here on set even with the slow progress, than it is to be in your trailer.

Javi is immediately nodding. “Yes.” He agrees, knowing that no one will argue with him. He’s had carte blanche on set, especially after making some re-writes that everyone swears will clench the Oscars in multiple categories.

"Yes I can stay?" You melt into a soft smile and wish that the aforementioned snobby director weren't in the room so you could kiss him. "Thank you. I'd much rather be here."

He smiles and squeezes your hand. “You can be wherever I am.” He promises, not caring if the director would rather you not be on set. He’s a little stiff and Javi can tell he doesn’t exactly approve of your soulmate status for whatever reason, but he doesn’t care.

"Come sit!" Tamara pats the chaise lounge beside her immediately. Since everything that happened on that first day, she's been an eager and bubbly friend. "We might need you for something else."

Javi smirks as he lets go of your hand so you can sit down next to your friend. “Did you run your errand like you needed?” He asks you, knowing you had been wanting to take care of something.

"I did." Though it wasn't exactly fun or easy. "The bus was running a little late but I managed to get everything done and sent off my sister's birthday present." You may not be close, but she's still your sister.

“You did not take the car?” Javi frowns immediately at you, sure that he had given you his keys before rushing off to the set this morning.

"I'm okay with the bus while my car is in the shop," you promise him. "And the car from the studio always brings you home, so there was no need to worry about that." Having a driver is a very helpful convenience, especially for Javi who likes to use the drive to prepare for the work day. Since your car has been in the shop for three days now, you've just been going to and from the studio with him, but this morning you needed to get to the post office. He had handed you the keys to his luxury sports car like it was nothing, but the mere thought of anything happening to the expensive automobile had you using a bus pass instead.

He’s not happy with your answer, and Tamara and Jason both grin as they watch the interaction between you. “Honey, what’s wrong with your car?” She huffs, hoping to distract.

"So far?" You let out a huff of a laugh. The director has gone to get a cup of coffee so you have a little time to breathe. "The engine. Just...in general."

Javi opens his mouth and then closes it. Deciding that he will take care of things and pulls out his phone.

Seeing your husband duck behind his phone with a look of concentration isn't unusual, so you pay it no mind and keep chatting lightly with Tamara. The cast had invited you and Javi to join them for drinks after shooting on Friday night and you're excited to go.

Javi doesn’t look up from his phone until the director comes back. “Clear the set.” He calls out and Javi pops up out of his chair. “Let’s go watch from the sidelines.”

There are a half dozen chairs set up in the hall behind the camera monitors for watching, and one of them bears Javi’s name. You hop up into the one beside him to hold his hand during the rehearsal of the scene before it gets filmed. “Everything okay, love?” You ask, not wanting to pry about whatever he was doing on his phone but still checking in.

“Perfect.” Javi tells you, looking over at you with a giddy smile. “Just taking care of something.”

“Something exciting?” You guess, but leave it at that.

“I think so, but it might be a little boring.” He admits with a chuckle. “We will see tomorrow.”

“Nothing you do is ever boring.” Surprising, frequently, and often lovely. But never boring.

“You would be surprised.” He grins proudly, squeezing your hand and the lifting it to kiss the back of it right as the director yells “Action!”

The scene is full of tension, but it has to be done angle by angle so the many takes come one after another in slow succession. Nothing seems to be done quickly in the movie industry, that's been obvious to you since day one.

He sees you shift in your chair and he leans over. “It can be so boring at times.” He murmurs in your ear. “I asked Nick how he doesn’t scream sometimes with so many takes.”

"I think it's fascinating," you admit, whispering back to make sure you don't disturb anything. "Watching how one gesture or a change of inflection can transform the whole scene? It's stunning."

He chuckles and hums softly, loving how you are enjoying yourself as you watch them reset the scene again. “Sometimes art takes time to perfect.” He admits. “First takes are like rough drafts.”

“Like the muslin before a gown.” In the days that you had dreamed of designing clothes, those rough muslin forms had been such loving work on the floor of your bedroom at home.

He tilts his head and tries to understand what you are meaning. “Muslin? The fabric that they used for undergarments?”

You nod, somehow managing to keep the giggle out of your voice so it won’t carry. “I was taught to design clothing by making a muslin form first. Like a rough draft. To make sure the design works before cutting into the expensive fabric and whatnot.”

“You make clothes?” That’s a new fun fact he didn’t know about you and he lights up as he memorizes it. “So that is why you have been the in costume trailer a lot?”

“I used to.” The light in your eyes dims ever so slightly, but you keep smiling. He doesn’t know all the ways that your art was taken from you. Piece by piece.

“Why did you stop?” He frowns, sensing the way there is a shift in your mood. It’s slight, but your hand stiffens in his.

“My parents,” you tell him, honestly despite it being harsh. “My step-dad convinced my mom that art school was pointless. So they refused to pay for it. I ended up studying history instead.” Which has worked out for you, obviously, and you do love it. But if you had been able to study fashion the way you wanted? Maybe you would be a textiles conservator or a costumer for a living history museum by now. Who knows?

“That is not right.” Javi immediately defends you. “You should have been able to study whatever you wished.” He feels passionately about that, since he was also shoehorned into a role he didn’t not want in his own family.

"Well, I agree, but there's nothing we can do about it now." The best you can do is shrug, having put the dream aside a long time ago. Maybe one of these days you'll look into getting a second-hand or lower end sewing machine. Make yourself a few things, or even make them as gifts. Javi would probably jump so far into the idea that he'd suggest one of the rooms in your now-oft-dreamt-about future house be a sewing room. He's very sweet like that. Maybe you'll ask for your birthday, but that's in the future.

He is about to suggest that you go back to school, but he doesn’t want to make it seem like he’s hoping you quit your job. Selfishly, he likes having you right here every day. “Maybe one day you can show me what you’ve designed?”

"Maybe..." You nudge his shoulder slightly, cheeks warm from the compliment of his interest. "I'll dig out my old sketchbooks tonight? If you really want to see."

“Yes.” Javi immediately answers, grinning when you giggle slightly. “I want to see all of them. Do you have them at the cottage or do we need to go back to your apartment?” The move has been day by day, you deciding what you want to do with your furniture but your most pressing items already in the cottage alongside his own.

"We should stop at the cottage on the way home, if that's okay?" As usual, the studio's driver will be taking you, but he never seems to mind making a small detour before leaving Santa Barbara. The ride back down the coast to the house – or cottage, as Javi calls it – is always a nice way to relax together after a work day.

“Absolutely.” He nods and smiles. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

"Maybe I can cook tonight?" He often likes to go out or have something delivered, and that's lovely. But tonight you like the idea of having a domestic night at home with your husband. After all, it's not like you lack for groceries. Or anything.

“Do you need anything?” He immediately wonders which is the closest store to the cottage, or if you would prefer one near your old apartment.

"We have a full kitchen, love." You promise him with a kiss to his cheek. "I already know what I'm going to make."

“I thought that was all the charcuterie items you wanted for the dinner with Nick and Olivia?” He had been warned away from the fridge drawers, making him pout as he searched for late night snacks.

"There is more than just snacks, my love." He had simply bypassed the steaks, brussels sprouts, potatoes, and assorted other ingredients in the kitchen because he isn't very interested in cooking just in general. That's perfectly fine, of course, but it means warning him off the things he can snack on without cooking them if you've bought them for a particular reason.

“Oh.” He rolls his eyes at himself and nods. “Only if you want to cook.” He hums. “You might be tired after work.”

In truth, it amounts to wanting to do something sweet for him because he does so much for you. Javi gives and gives and takes pride in it, but even with the generous pay from the studio your income doesn't come close to his. 

Do you share bank accounts now? Of course. He had a credit card opened on his account in your name. But so far you've only used it for groceries or household necessities. Anything else feels...greedy. 

"I won't be, mi amor," you promise him, setting those thoughts aside and resolving to make a nice dinner for you and your soulmate.

“We should build one of those kitchen outdoors.” He mentions causally, as if he’s talking about a simple weekend project. “Since you like to cook. I’ve seen some amazing ones. We could have it next to the pool.” The pool is currently being dug next to the cottage. In front of it actually. Wanting you to swim whenever you want, it’s now become a priority.

"We could definitely do that." In between takes now, you no longer have to whisper. At least for a short time. And that means you lean a little more into Javi's side and breathe a happy sigh. "It would be great for parties."

“Good!” He has expected you to huff about the idea, since it would be expensive and you seem to be determined to not spend his money. “Why don’t we talk to the architect?”

"We have a meeting next week. Why don't we add it to the things we want to talk to her about?" The quiet reason you're not immediately downplaying this idea is that you can immediately imagine having pool parties for your future children out there, with the patio bustling and a little outdoor kitchen right at hand. It makes you feel so dreamy that you just can't say no.

“Perfect.” Now that the director as given them the slight changes he wants to the scene, he moves back behind the camera and calls for silence on the set again.

There is nothing but utter silence in the hallway during the actual take. You cuddle into Javi's side and just watch the monitor. Having him close even without talking is a special kind of intimacy and one that you're starting to find that you love. The atmosphere of the set can be so tense at times that these little moments of intimacy feel stolen.

The wheels in Javi’s brain are starting to spin and he hums to himself as an idea for another script jumps to life. Even as he watches his latest being brought to the screen in front of him.

It’s a beautifully done scene, one full of yearning and those first pangs of something new that make your heart ache for the characters. Javi’s script is sensational on its own but Tamara and Jason are so good together that you almost feel like you’re intruding on their privacy just by watching the monitor. Which is absolutely as it should be.

Javi plays with your rings while he watches the scene. Knowing it by heart, he’s seen it in his head for so long, it’s almost boring to see it now. Thinking about that new idea as he grins to himself.When “Cut!” is called again, you nudge his jaw with your nose flash him a grin. “It’s a beautiful script, love.”

"Huh?" He is started out of his musings and he glances at you in confusion. "Oh, uh, thank you." He realizes what you are talking about and he grins. "Sorry, I was thinking about something else."

“Is everything okay?” He hasn’t mentioned being out of sorts or unwell or anything, but you still ask. Javi is, as they say, a dreamer. He might be far off in an imaginary land right now just as easily as he might be worrying about something.

“Everything is good.” He smiles again so you don’t worry. “I have an idea for a new script.”

“Really?” Your eyes light up in surprise. “A new idea already?”

“Umm hmm.” Your surprised delight makes him so much more appreciative of the support you’ve already shown him. “I need to jot some rough ideas for the timeline down.”

"I already can't wait." And you can't believe that he could come up with new ideas that fast, either. It seems like scripts should be so much harder to put together than just a single spark of an idea.

“Good.” He nods. “I will probably be asking you a million questions.”

"Oh?" That surprises you again, but as the director makes adjustments and gets ready to do another take, you sort of revel in the absurdity of the whole thing. You're living beyond your wildest dreams, after all. "And why will you be asking me questions, of all people?"

He smiles at you like the answer should be obvious and you are so sweet for not figuring it out. “Because it will be about you.” He hums and winks before looking back at the monitor as the scene is called to action.

You're still staring at him in abject confusion a full three minutes later when the director calls 'Cut!" again, and despite probably looking like a mad woman you don't feel any saner or closer to an answer. Which is why you end up blurting out "Why?" The second you're able to talk again.

Javi turns towards you again, wondering if you are upset at the idea of being his muse. For so long, anyone who learned of his desire to write movies would always beg to be his muse, sometimes even using seduction to try to sway him. You and Nick seem to be the only people that seemed uncomfortable by the idea, Nick because he wasn’t sure if it would work. “Art school.” He explains. “The impossible choice between honoring your parent’s wishes and following your heart.”

"Then I hope your character decides to do more with it than darn socks and mend thrifted clothes." There is worry on his face that you wish you could reach out and smooth away. Like a swipe of your thumb might lifts all of the clouds of concern right out of his mind. "I'm honored that you think I'm worth being inspired by, sweetheart."He bites his lip, trying to search your eyes to see if you are just being polite. “You should do more than darn socks or mend thrifted clothes.” He murmurs. “You should do what you want.”

"Maybe." He is disarmingly sweet. He has been since the day you met him, and a month of marriage has not dulled it in any way. "I was thinking of asking for a used sewing machine for my birthday this year. Since...I never really have anyone to ask but I hoped you might wonder what to get me?"

"A sewing machine." He is immediately committing that to memory and nodding. "You have me to ask now." He promises, deciding that he will throw you one hell of a birthday party for this year.

"And you have me." For whatever the hell that's worth. Things seem both awash with prospects and simultaneously in the middle of a weird sort of limbo right now. At least for you.

Javi's phone buzzes and he jumps slightly, not expecting it. Chuckling at himself as he pulls it out of his pocket, his eyes light up as he sees the number on the screen. "Oh! It's here!" Bolting out of the chair to take the call.

“It?” You jump out of your skin right along with him, clambering down from your chair to follow.

"Hello?" He is off to the races as he answers the phone. "Yes! Hi! Are you outside?" He asks, hearing you following him, but it's a given that you need to be here as well. "Yes? Already? And the bow?" He is giddy and practically skips a step. "Thank you! I am on the way."

“Javi, where are you going?” He’s headed straight down the hallway toward the main entrance of the house and you barely make it to the door behind him. Down a half dozen stairs and out to the port-cochere, there are plenty of cars and trailers parked out in the front of Hazelwood House but the gate has opened to let two more in.

Two cars. One of which has a giant bow on the roof.

Javi’s eyes light up and he thinks it’s perfect. Your favorite color just happened to be available in the same model as his own car and only a few cities over on another car lot. They had managed to ship the car here today and he spins around to you. “Surprise!”

"Oh my god..." You can barely huff out the words, watching a metallic blue version of Javi's beloved Porsche convertible be driven onto the grounds of the museum. You should feel awed. You should be such immense gratitude. And you do, really you do. But the twist of discomfort in your stomach is so sharp that it almost makes you nauseous. "You bought me a car?" Why? And why does that make you almost want to cry instead of being excited?

The wide grin on his face falters slightly when you don’t immediately start jumping up and down while screaming in excitement. “You– uh, didn’t want to drive my car.” He explains. “So I thought that you should just have your own. You would drive that, right?” He asks.

"I don't like driving your car because I'm terrified of something happening while I'm in it..." He looks absolutely crestfallen but you really don't know what to do right now. He went completely over your head to solve a problem and landed on an answer that makes you uncomfortable without meaning to.

“Something happening?” He rushes back over to you and grabs your waist gently. “Sweetheart, it’s a car. A tool.” He insists. “If something happened, I would only care that you are safe.” His brows lift. “And the car has a fantastic safety rating.” He adds, as is that will bolster his argument.

"I can't imagine you not caring if your million-dollar car was in an accident." Okay, you have no idea how much the car actually costs. But it's a Porsche convertible. It has to be a lot. And expensive things -- or at least things that were expensive to you -- have been a stress point for your entire life. "It's very sweet of you, baby. But when I needed to take my car to the shop, the solution didn't need to be buying me a new car."

“The car wasn’t that expensive.” He protests and the delivery driver of the car gets out of the driver’s seat and starts walking towards you and Javi. “Your car was...tired.” He reminds you.

"Say what you mean." You shrug. "My car is a piece of shit. But it was a piece of shit that I worked hard to afford and was proud of because it was proof of all that work."

His shoulders slump, feeling horrible for making you feel like your efforts didn’t matter. “I’m - I’m sorry.” He murmurs softly. “I just wanted my wife in a safe, reliable car instead of riding a bus. And I-“ he shakes his head. “I’ll have the car returned.”

"Amor," you tip his chin back up with two fingers to look at you, hating the way he looks when he pouts. It breaks your heart to upset him at all but this was a very big surprise. “Is it already paid for?”

His eyes slide to the right guiltily. “Sí.” He sighs. “But I think they will buy it back.” For loss, of course. They would take at least twenty grand off just because they had taken it off the lot to be delivered. The last thing you want is for him to think you're mad. He did something deeply overboard but he did it out of love and a want to be helpful. So you put your own arms around his waist in turn, and the expression on your face turns into something like a lopsided smile of exasperation. He is so terribly sweet, your excited puppy of a soulmate. He really is. "If it's already paid for, then I'll find out how much the shop will pay me for the parts from my junker. Can I just ask you one thing, mi amor?”

He bites his lip, feeling the rebuke coming but at least you aren’t yelling. “Anything.”

“The next time we have a big decision to make, can we make it together?” You squeeze his waist gently and lean up to kiss his cheek, trying to make sure he understands you’re not mad — just exceedingly confused. “We’re partners, aren’t we?”

“Yes, yes we are.” Guilt floods him and he has the decency to look sheepish. “I- I got caught up and I wanted you to have-“ he lets go of your hip with one hand to gesture to the car. “I thought it was a sign they had one in your favorite color.”

"It's very beautiful." When he had found out your favorite color was blue you thought for sure he was going to theme every little thing in your lives to shade of that color, but so far it's been limited to him buying a whole new bedding set in shimmery blue for your bed. You had loved that surprise, so you can see how he had thought right away that you would love this, too. "I'm not upset, Javi. I'm just really surprised. When you said you were going to spoil me when we got married, I didn't think it would be big things, too."

“Why would it not be with big things?” He asks, concerned that you could think that he would leave you to hand big things on your own.

"I–I don't know." Suddenly you're the one feeling guilty, and frowning deeply because the answer occurs to your out of nowhere, almost like you're being punched in the gut. "Probably...because...I've always had to do the big things for myself."

He hates the way your face looks so lost, so uncertain. Javi leans in and kisses you softly. “Now you have me to do the big things…with.” He stresses the last word, reassuring you that he heard your request.

“Come on, you.” The weight of a handful of unexpected revelations is still heavy on your shoulders, but the world seems a lot more manageable when Javi is smiling and you’d prefer to keep it that way. “Show me the car.”

Now that he’s halfway sure you will accept the car, he’s grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the deliver driver to get the keys and thank him profusely. “It is just like mine.” He promises. “Although your car has the cooled seats!”

The car dealer deposits the keys in Javi’s hand when he walks you over, smiling and chatty as car salesmen at wont to be. At some point the directive that this car is for you must have been given because the salesman’s attention moves firmly to explaining all of the special features of the complex car to you.

Your car is the same year model, although there are a few more bells and whistles on yours. The grey and black leather seats look amazing and it’s obvious that the dealer has just removed all the protective plastic before delivering it. It has that deeply satisfying new car smell, although that will soon disappear if you drive with the top down. “Your husband asked for the same model he has, with a few upgrades.” The salesman explains to you, as though he hasn’t just explained the entire car tip-to-tail. “Including the manual transmission. Of course, Mrs. Gutierrez, if you prefer—”

“Before you insinuate that I won’t be able to drive the car my husband has gifted to me, be assured that my ability to drive a manual sports car is not in question.”

Javi looks smugly proud of that fact and he nods. “Absolutely.”Accordingly, Javi drops the key into your hand and presses a kiss to your cheek. You thank the salesman for the delivery, realizing belatedly that the thing that going to make you keep this car is fifty percent Javi's sweet gesture and fifty percent spite for this salesman who thinks you can't handle it.

The salesman leaves in the other car, climbing in the passenger seat and Javi grins. “Want to take it for a test drive?” He asks excitedly."Don't we have to go back to work?" Javi's excitement is always the sweetest height of any moment, but there are still responsibilities to take into account. "How about I drive us home tonight instead of taking the studio car?"

He pouts for a moment and then nods. “That makes more sense.” He agrees, even though he wants to take a ride with you now. “Maybe we can drive around the coast and find a new restaurant to try?”

"That sounds perfect." You won't say so because you know Javi's idea of a new place to try is always fancy, but Alex had told you about a new burger place on the Pacific Coast Highway. Just a shack on the beach. It sounds like something Javi will love if he even ever tried it -- but those aren't the places that he thinks to try.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” He asks, glancing at the car and then back at you.

"It's a gift from my soulmate." You wrap one hand around his arm and tuck the keys into your pocket carefully with the other. "Even if it was unexpected, it's still lovely."

“Okay.” He relaxes into your body and smiles. “I was hoping you would like it. They are very reliable cars.”

"I know you love your car." He does, and you had really just chalked it up to him being a sports car guy, but Javi's obsession with safety is one more thing that is very sweet about him. He really cares about the people closest to him. You glance back at the car, which was neatly parked on the edge of the other staff vehicles, and then back at him. "It will take a little getting used to, for me. But I love that you want to take care of me."

“You’re my soulmate.” He huffs. “Of course I want to take care of you.” He promises. “I want to give you the world.”

“I’m still getting used to that,” you admit, leaning on his arm a little out of a dear and sort of desperate wish to be close to him as you head back down the hall to whatever scene work is being done right now. “And I love you, too.”******

Alex wasn’t on the primary set today, but he was working with the secondary camera crew and the assistant director to shoot some of the exterior scenes, so he had seen the delivery of the car from a distance.

“New car! Who got a new car?” He demands, knocking on the trailer door and throwing it open a second later to charge inside like an over eager puppy. He’s a total gear head and loves cars.

"Mrs. G." Jason reports, lounging across the sofa in their shared trailer with a book open and resting on his chest. He'd barely closed his eyes for a nap when Alex came rumbling in. "You go see it yet?"“No! I have to get out of this costume.” He is pulling off the elaborate jacket and starts to unbutton the crisp white shirt.

“Go easy!” Jason reminds him, sitting up on the sofa and shoving a bookmark into the spine of the book without mercy. “Heather will kill you if you rip anything.”

“Dude, the horsepower of the car.” He grins. “Maybe she’ll let me test drive it.”

"You might have a better chance at that if you hadn't crushed the cover of her notebook the other day just by holding it weird." Jason chuckles. He pulls himself to standing with a grunt and moves to grab his water bottle off the nearby shelf.

“I didn’t mean to!!!!!” He insists, whining and pouting at the mention of that incident. He really hasn’t meant to.

“I know, man.” Jason can’t stop cackling now, even as he pats his co-star on the back. “I know. But it’s never not gonna be funny.”

In his excitement and exuberance, Alex can be a little…destructive. He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Then I’m never gonna drive that car.” He groans.

"Maybe she'll take you for a ride," Jason offers instead. Alex is just pulling on a t-shirt when he motions back toward the trailer door with a wave of one hand. "I mean she basically adopted you as the brother she never wanted right?" He snorts when Alex swats at him defensively and the two guys tumble out of their trailer and into the spring sunlight. "Just ask, man."

“Maybe.” He is rushing towards Javi’s trailer, still amused that the writer has his own space. Although it makes sense, in a way. Changes are quick, printed out right on site.

You groan at the impatient knocking on the trailer door, having to pause what you're doing with one hand working open Javi's pants and the other tangled in his curls. "One second!" You call back, pouting about being interrupted.

“Hurry up!” Alex chirps happily, practically wringing his hands together. Eager to see the car up close. “Stop kissing your soulmate!”

"Shut up!" Is the retort that comes back through the door, and after a minute or two of shuffling you pull the door open to find both leading men on your steps. "Yes, gentlemen?"

Jason chuckles, finding both you and Javi behind you looking flustered. Having some inkling it was much more than just kissing. “Saw the new car.” He explains. “Alex is about to crawl out of his skin to see it.”

"Alex, someday when I meet your soulmate, I'm going to ask them if they are a dog person right off the bat," you chuckle with thinly veiled amusement at the way the Hollywood star is practically wagging his tail to see the new vehicle. "Alright," you were already reaching for the key out of sight, and now you dangle it in front of his face teasingly. "Let's go check her out. She needs a name anyway. Might as well make it a group project."

“Oh god!” His eyes light up and he tries to snatch the keys out of your hand, but you pull them back. “Don’t name her something stupid.”

“What would be a stupid name for a car?” You ask him, entirely amused by his clearly very strong feelings on the subject.

“Bertha.” He chuckles. “I know Eleanor is popular because of Gone in Sixty Seconds…” he glances at Javi. “But don’t name her that.”

"Bertha is a character on my favorite tv show." You shake your head at the suggestion even as you loop your arm around Javi's waist to walk together. "I usually let a car tell me what their name is. You know – get in and the first song that plays on the first drive is where you get the name from. That sort of thing."

“Ohhhhhh that’s a good way to do it!” Alex plugs up and he’s turning around and walking backwards as he quizzes you. “Favorite genre of music?”

"It sounds so basic to say rock, but it's true." There is also a healthy interest into any kind of music that tells a story, but in general? It's rock. "90s alt rock, grunge, punk...but I'll try anything that comes on a good recommendation."

“Janie.” Alex grins widely, eyes alight with glee. “The car’s name is gonna be Janie.”

"How can you possibly guess that?" Jason huffs, crossing his arms like it's his car that has been named and not yours.

“Janie’s got a guuuun.” Alex croons off key on purpose as he continues to bound backwards like an excited puppy. “Most dealers set the XM radio to the 80s or 90s station, depending on the price tag of the car. Javi’s car is easily ninety k, and Aerosmith released the song in 1989 but it topped charts in 1990, so they play it on both the 80s and 90s stations.”

"We'll see." Never mind that the 80s and 90s stations are usually what you listen to, you ask the universe for one single second to make it anything else so that Alex will be wrong. You love the guy – he's funny and a great friend – but he doesn't need his head getting about bigger.

He doesn’t take offense, chuckling happily as he spins around and he whistles just as soon as the sparkling new car comes into the view, bow still sitting on the hood. “Ohhhh she is puuuuuuuuuurdy.” He drawls out with an exaggerated Texas accent.

"I have to admit," you give Javi's side a gentle squeeze. "The color is perfect."

“Good.” He beams. “It was this or a car that looked like pink or purple color.”

"I mean," you laugh, watching Javi's face morph at his obvious distaste for that choice. "I do like pink and purple. But blue is my favorite. And the gray interior is gorgeous." Stepping up to the car, you smooth a tentative hand down one side and bite your lip. Is this really your car? Did he really do this? But you click the unlock button on the fob in your hand and sure enough, the door unlocks instantly. Yep. He really did it.

Even as Alex drools over the car, Javi is watching you. Eager to see your reaction now that the reality of it being yours is starting to sink in.

It is the same as his car, after all. You've been in his car dozens of times now. But opening the driver's side send a ping of nerves through you just as much as it does anticipation. After all, the car was a gift. And it is much safer than your old one. Just because you scraped and saved for that shitbox did not make it a good car by any means.

You slide into the driver's seat and actually sigh with how comfortable it is.

“Heated and cooled seats.” Javi reminds you and Alex starts cracking up. “You got the coochie coolers, hellllllll yeah mama!” He slaps Javi on the back. “Just what she needs in the California summer.”

"Please never call them that again," you snort, shaking your head at Alex before you lean back in the front seat and look up at the three men that you now spend as much time with as anyone else in the world. "Okay. We ready for this?"

"Hell yeah." Jason pumps one fist in the air. "Do it!" 

"Here we go..." Turning over the ignition is akin to a cat purring out its very best first impression, and when the screen blinks to life the station that is listed is, in fact, 90s Alt Rock. Javi leans in to ear the song, eager to learn what is playing. The unique sound of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers comes through the speakers in studio quality sound.

"Last dance with Mary Jane, one more time to kill the pain  I feel summer creepin' in and I'm tired of this town again"

Jason smirks, Javi’s head tilts curiously, and you just start to laugh as Alex crows with victory.

“Alright, fine,” you can’t stop shaking your head and laughing as Mary Jane’s Last Dance pours through the speakers. “I guess the car’s name is Janey.” It’s better than Mary Jane, after all, and the radio determined the winner anyway.

“Janey?” Javi asks, wondering if you are joking since you had wanted to thwart Alex.

“Those are the rules.” When you shrug you’re still laughing. Mostly because the chance of that happening was way too small to ignore. “I don’t particularly want to name her Mary Jane, but Janey is cute.”

“It could always be MJ.” Jason pipes up with a grin tossed Alex’s way.

“But then it sounds like you’re naming your car after Michael Jackson.” Alex points out, as if that proves that he wins.

“Or MJ from Spider-Man.” Jason counters with a shrug. “Short for Mary Jane.”

“I always liked Gwen Stacy.” You counter, just to watch the unabashed, rather gobsmacked way both Alex and Jason start to sputter in protest. “I’m kidding guys, oh my god. Calm down. MJ is good. I like MJ.”

Javi chuckles and pats the cloth hood of the car. “MJ.” He hums. “Why don’t you let her hair down, Sweetheart?”

Placing a kiss on his cheek, you slide into the car and shut the door. Turning over the ignition feels like you're sitting on an engine-powered cloud. Just like Javi's car, the buttery leather cradles you and you really can't deny the comfort. You tell yourself it's practical. Your husband – your soulmate can afford to buy you a new car when your old one is dying, and he got you something safe and stylish without you ever having to ask. Most partners would be thrilled. 

So why not embrace it? 

The second your foot presses the gas, you suddenly have no trouble with the idea of this car being your reality.

Javi watches as you squeal out of your parking spot, grinning wildly as Alex shouts encouragement in excitement.

Almost the second you pull out, the wind seems to change. The world morphs around you a little. And yeah, you like driving. You always have. But this? This feels like flying, and the only thing you’re missing is Javi beside you.

“Well damn, she left you behind.” Jason snorts, slapping Javi on the back, but your husband just chuckles. “She’ll be back. She’s just getting a feel for her baby.”

“It’s a hell of a gift.” Jason observes, arms crossed, as he watches you turn a wide circle on the other end of the parking lot.

“She’s worth it.” Javi promises with an indulgent smile. “First time I’ve ever felt truly loved.” The realization had been astounding. You accepted him, flaws and all and even put up with him now when you were exasperated by him buying you a car without your input. There is never a moment where you make him feel like he’s not enough.

Jason and Alex, for alternate reasons, sigh with longing and mumble agreements. Jason has been developing a sizable crush since beginning work on this film and hasn’t said a goddamn word to anyone — while Alex has been having a quiet personal crisis about the possibility of never being able to find his soulmate. He envies people like Javi and Dieter Bravo. People who work through their fears and end up happy and in love. He just doesn’t know if that will ever happen to him.

The car comes roaring back towards the three men and Javi chuckles when the other two step back cautiously but he knows you will stop. The braking system on the car is amazing, and he fully trusts you. “How does she feel?”

At some point during your test drive you brought the top down, and you’re grinning at him unapologetically from the front seat of the convertible. “The only thing that would make it more perfect is having you in the front seat with me.”

“Are you ready to leave?” He asks, shooting you a matching grin and lifting his brows. “Alex might cry if you don’t take him for a spin.”

“Don’t we have more work to do?” If you’ve both been dismissed from set that is news to you, but you wouldn’t be opposed to a drive.

“We are done for the day.” Alex is bouncing on his toes and edging closer to the car. Eager to get into the passenger seat if he can’t get behind the wheel. “Secondary too.”

Looking up to Javi, you flash a gleaming grin and shrug your shoulders. “Do you guys want to go for a drive? Head out to the beach and maybe get dinner?”

“You- uh, don’t mind?” Jason looks surprised and at the same time, a little relieved that you just aren’t dragging Javi away.

“Why would I mind? We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s a little heartbreaking the way Jason always seems surprised to be included in things, but that’s like half the reason you’re damned and determined to always make sure he knows he’s invited. “If everybody is done, maybe we can catch the girls and we can all go together?”

Javi chuckles. “We won’t all fit in this car, but why don’t we go to the house and pick up my car?” He grins at Alex and Jason. “You two can take turns driving mine.” He offers with a waggle of his brows.

Before you can say another word, the boys are agreeing and sprinting off to their trailers for their stuff so fast that they leave behind a dust cloud.

“Well,” you laugh, shaking your head as they go. “We should go tell the girls. You just gave those two the biggest excitement of the week.”

“We’ll have to get them to the house, but then we can let them ride in my car.” He offers as he leans against the driver’s door and offers you a smirk. “You look sexy behind the wheel. Knew you would.”

“Yeah?” He’s practically beaming at you, and you can’t help but feel a little giddy about it in turn. “What else do you think about me being sexy doing?”

He bites his lip, his expression sliding into something a little more…carnal. “When you walk around the cottage in those little outfits. When you wash your make up off every night and you lean over the sink to make sure you got all your eyeliner.” He grunts slightly, obviously infatuated. “Painting your toenails.”

A little giggle wells in your chest and you smirk at him in turn. “So…any time you get a good view of my ass or get to look down my shirt?”

His eyes dip down your shirt and linger for a moment before he looks back into your eyes. “Guilty.” He admits with a chuckle.

“That’s totally fine,” you promise him, grin spreading a little wider. “I can’t wait for the pool to be ready so I can check out your whole drawer of speedos in action.”

“I have a favorite pair.” He admits shamelessly.

"Oh yeah?" As much as you hate to, you climb out of the parked car temporarily so you and Javi can go inside and hunt down the rest of your friends. "Which one?"

“They are black and white striped.” He tells you. “I think they make my small butt look bigger.”

Barely stopping yourself before you snort, you lean into Javi's side and pat his 'small butt' lovingly. "I think your ass is perfect, amor. Don't worry about that."

“You like it?” He perks up slightly, surprised that you would even care about his mild body issues.

"Do I like my husband's ass?" Even pretending to think about it only lasts a minute, and you slide your hand into his back pocket to give him a little squeeze. Sure, Javi doesn't have the biggest or perkiest butt in the world – but it's lean and tight just like the rest of him. "No. No, I take that back. I don't like it. I love it."

He chuckles, a little self conscious and a little proud of his butt that you like so much. “Yours is much better.” He promises, his own hand sliding down to your lower back and he grins but continues down to squeeze your ass.

"I guess it's a very good thing we like each other's assets so much," you joke, giggling at your own bad pun.

Javi laughs at the corny joke, nodding happily. “Go find your friend, sweetheart.” He urges you. “I’ll find Tamara.”

Moira is, as always, easy to find. At the reception desk inside the front door of the house, she is sitting with her novel of the week and her enormous pink Stanley full of iced water. The little cherry cover has been flicked off the top and she's chewing the tip of her straw between her teeth as she reads something particularly exciting.

"Can I interrupt?" Sometimes being interrupted in the middle of reading something exciting is the worst and you don't want to do that to her.

She’s immediately marking her spot and closing the book, looking at you expectantly. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Hollywood?” She teases with a grin.

“Hush.” But you just roll your eyes, grinning with that effervescent sunny aura that life with Javi had given you. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come hang out tonight.” You waggle your eyebrows teasingly. “Jason is coming.”

Eyes widening as her heart starts to race, there isn’t the possibility of playing it cool. Her crush on the actor is nearly overwhelming and to her horror, she can barely form sentences around him. So often she is asked why she’s so quiet. “Oh god.” She moans. “I’m gonna embarrass myself.”

“You’re not!” Plopping yourself down on the stool beside her behind the desk for a moment of work wife support, you squeeze your best friend close to your side and shake her a little as if you’re trying to shake her nerves out. “He’s a sweetheart and an absolute goofball. And I totally caught him checking you out at lunch today.”

“Oh b.s.” she huffs, waving her hand at you even if she perks up slightly and rolls her shoulders back. “He was not.”

“He was.” You nudge her, knowing you’ve already gotten her that much cheerier. “And I have it on good gossiping authority that he’s got a crush on somebody in the production.”

“The key word there is production.” She points out, sighing softly. You don’t tease her about her impossible crush, but she’s almost embarrassed by how much she likes him. She feels akin to a stalker, flustering every time she runs into him and yet she’s ’accidentally’ run into him more than once.

“You count as being in the production, babe.” The reminder is soft, but still nudging. “You don’t have to come tonight, but I wish you would. We’re just going to drive out to the beach and have burgers and hang out. Nothing fancy.”

“Just hanging out?” Since you’ve been married, the out of work time spent together has gone down, but that is to be expected and she doesn’t begrudge you that. Still, it’s nice to have the opportunity to spend time with you if nothing else. “Why not?” She shrugs and grins. “You know how much I love burgers.”

“I know you do.” And if you manage to get her in the backseat of your new car with her celebrity crush at any given point, the night will be twice as successful. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Grab your stuff and we’ll sign you out. They’ve called shooting for the day.”

“They have?” Her brows wing up and she’s jumping out of her chair to start gathering her things. Without guests, her days are boring at times and today was one of those days. She hadn’t even had confused guests arrive not knowing the house was closed for filming. “That’s early.”

“Yeah, but I can’t say I’m upset about it. Javi said they got the first two scenes this morning in one take each.”

“You weren’t on set?” She smirks and shoots you a coy look. “What were you doing? Recovering?”

“Hush!” Even as you bat her arm in playful shock, you’re near giggling. “No, I had some mail to send and my beloved junker was in the shop."

She groans in disbelief and shakes her head. “What’s wrong with Betsy now?” She demands. “She’s requiring more and more maintenance, you know.”

“I know.” At this, you at least have the decency to look a bit sheepish. Once Moira has her things, you head down to the time clock in the basement together so she can sign out. “And I guess Javi was more concerned about my safety with the old girl than I realized.”

“What do you mean?” She frowns in confusion. “Did he insult your car?”

“No, no! Nothing like that.” Javi could never insult anyone. You know that about him. He’s constitutionally incapable of intentional negativity. “He just mentioned that she breaks down a lot and that he’d feel better if I drove something a bit safer.” You bite your lip and shrug, wondering how she’ll take the news. “He worries.”

“Well, he should worry.” She admits, shrugging slightly. “You broke down on the 405 six months ago.” She reminds you. “Had to wait three hours for a tow truck.”

"I know." Though Javi doesn't know that. If he had, he probably would have done what he did today much sooner. "Which is why I'm hoping you'll be impressed by what he did instead of freaking out a little like I did."

“What did he do?” She is instantly suspicious and dragging you towards the stairs so she can find out.

"He, um..." You clear your throat and very quickly mumble: "Heboughtmeanewcar."

“He what?” She heard you, she just can’t believe what you’ve said. The very idea of someone just buying their spouse a new car isn’t something happens in real life in her experience. “What? What kind? Where? Is it here?”

"It's out front." The ever-so-slight embarrassment on your face is just because you can't believe he did something so extravagant out of a place of kindness and love. Out of worry, for that matter. Just because he cares about you and he can. "It's um...before you see it...just know it's not something I would have picked for myself but I do love it."

“Oh god.” She groans. “Don’t tell me that man got you a fucking minivan.”

"No, no. Quite the opposite." Back up the stairs and out to the front of the house, you put your hand into your pocket and click the remote entry that unlocks your shining, metallic blue Porsche. "Moira, meet MJ."

“Holyshitnofuckingwaaaaaaay!” The squeal makes it out in one breath as she nearly leaps for the car, yanking the door handle open to look inside and verify that your key fob unlocked this car. “Can he buy me one too?” She begs, teasing but obviously slightly jealous as she coos over the car.

"Honestly if you asked, he probably would," you tell her, glad to see that she's excited about this development instead of getting worried that it's overbearing or that Javi is lovebombing you. Neither of which is the case.

“Holy shit.” She huffs. “It smells amazing.”

"New car smell, right? I swear Porsches have their own specific version."

“Because it’s expensive.” She pokes her head out of the car and looks at you over the hood. “Don’t tell me that he just surprised you with it?”

"I don't know if you've noticed, but surprises are kind of his thing." From the front steps of the house, the guys and Tamara appear and you can't help the way you light up at even the smallest sight of your soulmate. “Everybody excited to get outta here?"

“I wonder what he will surprise you with next time?” She chuckles, happy to see that you are so happy. You deserve everything.

“Hopefully nothing as big,” you half-laugh under your breath as the group comes down the front steps toward you.

“Hell yes.” Tamara answers happily. “A burger and a beer or two sounds like the perfect way to unwind tonight.”

When the rest of the group makes it over to the car there are hugs and squeezes all around and Tamara coos over the new convertible lovingly. "Since everybody else was driven," she eyes the boys with amusement. "Why don't we take Mrs. G's gorgeous new baby and my SUV out to Casa Gutierrez and we can go from there?"

“I want to ride in the convertible!” Alex immediately calls it and Jason shoots a glance over at Moira to see if she’s going to call the other tiny backseat.

"Surprising no one." Tamara laughs. "Jay and Moira, wanna ride with me? I think if we try to split up the adoring soulmates, the world might implode."

Everyone laughs and Javi shrugs. “It just might.” He admits. “It is hard enough to be away from her when she is having her nails done with Moria.” However, he knows you need your time with your friends and he would never deny you anything you need.

“Which is a tradition we cherish, and you’re the king of appreciating a nice new manicure anyway, mi amor.” Before him, your weekly manicure sessions with your best friend had been an excuse to spend time together, listening to music and gossiping and painting each other’s nails. Once Javi had heard about this, he had insisted on upgrading it to a weekly lunch and salon date for the two of you.He smirks and winks at you as he thinks about the way your hand looks when you wrap it around his cock. It’s your favorite way to beg him for sex, not that you have to beg, but you love to feel him harden in your hand. “Yes I do.”

“Okay.” Having a feeling that you’re both thinking about the same thing, you snap back into reality just long enough to nudge a slightly panicky looking Moira toward Tamara and Jason. “We’ll meet you guys at the house. See you in a bit!”

Everyone is quickly loaded up into the cars, Alex groaning over the buttery leather interior and grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he leans forward. “Make her fly?” He begs.

He’s like a little kid in the backseat all the way down the Pacific Coast Highway. For the length of the drive it is nothing but good music and chatter in both cars and even when you leave Tamara’s SUV in the driveway of the cottage to take both convertibles out for dinner, the good mood just keeps rolling. By the time the six of you get the little burger shack with its old fashioned jukebox and brightly painted and varnished tables, you’re both starving and in an incredibly good mood.

“Oh my goodness, I love the vibes of this place.” Moira is absolutely enchanted by the relaxed atmosphere and the relaxing classic rock that is pouring out of the speakers of the jukebox. It’s very chill, very surfer-like. Even if the rocky cliffs aren’t the perfect setting for surfboards and catching waves.

“Isn’t it the cutest? And I’ve looked over the menu a million times, everything looks so good.” Your best friend had glued herself to your side the second both cars got here and you’re dying to know why she’s blushing so badly but you won’t pry quite yet. “I’ve been wanting to come here for ages.”

“Why didn’t you say something before now?” Javi asks, almost looking hurt that you kept what you wanted to yourself. “We could have come.”

“I knew we’d get around to it.” You reassure him, and make a mental note that Javi seems a little extra sensitive to making you as happy as humanly possible today, despite — or perhaps because of — the car purchase just hours ago. “And I was right, wasn’t I? We’re here now.”

“Yes we are.” He relaxes at your words and the way you stroke your hand down the small of his back as you lean into him. “We need to try everything you want.”

“That’s either going to be a very big tab or a whole lot of visits, but I like the enthusiasm, mi amor.” The two of you slide up to the rest of the group to find Alex already flirting his way into getting two tables pushed together instead of having to wait. Moira has joined Tamara at the jukebox where they are eagerly picking out songs, and Jason is lingering slightly behind with his eyes trained firmly on the ground in front of him like he’s misbehaved or something.

“What’s wrong with him?” Javi asks you, noticing Jason’s behavior and finding it odd for the actor. He’s not as outgoing as Alex, but he’s normally not sulking like a kid put in time out.

“Not sure yet.” The two of you hang to the back of the group as the beaming hostess leads Alex to his table and all the rest of you only by accident. “But I caught him get starry eyed looking at Moira earlier. Maybe there’s a thread there?”

“You picked up on that?” He lifts a brow and grins as he glances back at your best friend. “I thought I was imagining things.”

“Nope.” Shaking your head lets you smother a giggle as you walk together, and you grin up at your husband. “Clear as day!”

“What does she think about him?” You have to know, as close as the two of you are. But Javi doesn’t push you to tell him everything you and Moira discuss. He respects your friendship enough to know that you might keep secrets from him that she divulges.

“Oh, we are absolutely meddling,” you murmur, right before letting go of his arm to sit down.

“It’s like that, huh?” He snorts in amusement and sits down beside you.

“Like what?” Jason asks brightly. He’s already picked up a menu and is leaning back in his chair, savoring the evening breeze off the Pacific.

“Like a party.” Javi answers, glancing over at Jason. “How was the drive here?”

“Stunning.” Alex grins, leaning forward just as Jason leans back. “I’m gonna have to get one of those for myself, ya know.”

“So you are going to let Jason drive it back?” Javi asks with a grin of his own.

Picking up on Javi's thread quickly, you bury your grin behind your menu and shrug. "Someone would have to keep an eye on him if I did let that happen."

Javi chuckles. “And who better than your best friend?”

"Perfect." Moira might kill you for it later -- if the foot stepping on yours under the table is any indication -- but you'll be damned if you're not going to at least try to help.

“But I wanted to drive her some more.” Alex pouts playfully, even as he hands over the keys to the Porsche.

"Play nice and you'll get another chance," Tamara advises, still grinning when the waiter comes over to take everyone's drink orders.

“Or better yet, buy one.” Jason snorts. “Or maybe not, the way you drive.”

"Hey!" Alex all but pouts. "I'm a good driver!"

Moira snorts and Jason immediately bites his lip, the edges of his ears turning red as he looks at the menu like he’s trying to memorize it.

The ordering of drinks distracts from whatever must surely have happened during the drive out to the coast, and the table is awash with margaritas and beers in no time. Conversation turns to the menu and everyone's plans for the weekend, but your best friend beside you is suspiciously silent.

“Everything okay?” Your innocent question makes her jump, lost in thought until you rip her back to the present. “Oh, uh, y-yeah.” She stammers. “Everything’s great. Fine. Everything’s fine.”

"Liar." Eyeing her, margarita in hand, you lean slightly to your side and have a sip of your drink. "You're a terrible liar."

“What?” She gives you an exaggerated innocent look.

“What happened?” You whisper, waggling your eyebrows at her like you’re sure she has a secret.

“Alex drives like a maniac.” She whispers back after a long moment of silence. Her face is turning scarlet again and she bites her lip. “We weren’t wearing seatbelts and….” She chokes out a groan. “I know that my boob fits perfectly in his hand now, so that’s gonna be the highlight of my fantasies for the next hundred years.”

“What??” Barely able to stifle a snort of laugh by clamping your hand down over your mouth, your eyes bulge looking at her. Thank god you’re capable of keeping your voice down to a hiss. “You’re kidding me!”

“Noooooo.” She groans and flops her face into her hand. “And Jason reacted like I had an infectious disease.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” you promise her, glad that the other four at the table are currently distracted by some other discussion at the moment. “He was probably just embarrassed.”

“Or he’s disgusted he accidentally touched me.” She snorts, hating how rejected she felt when he had pulled backed and refused to look at her even as he apologized.

“I’d call that the least likely option.” After all, you know his eyes were trained on her ass at Craft Services this afternoon. There was no mistaking that. And more than once he’s gotten blushy and excitable talking to her between scenes or at a meal. Moira just never noticed because she was blushy and excitable too. And because she was fairly blind to anyone ever paying her compliments.

“Whatever you say.” She huffs quietly. “You’ve found your perfect prince and he’s literally amazing.”

"And you will, too." Because if it happened for you, there is nothing in the world that is going to stop you until you help your best friend find that happiness, too.

“We will see.” She doesn’t want to bring down the mood at all, so she shoots you a smile. “So you named the car already?”

"First song on the test drive was Mary Jane's Last Dance," you tell her, letting the deliberate subject change wash past you. There's no use harping on it when Jason is sitting a few feet away and Moira will just dig her heels in. "So it was kind of a no brainer."

“Sounds like it.” She laughs and shrugs. “MJ is kind of cute. Some people will think of Spider-Man, some people will think of smoking out.” She laughs. “Some people with think of Michael Jackson.”

“Variety is the spice of life, right?” Your little shrug is playful. Unserious. A small attempt to keep the mood playful for her.

“You should get a vanity plate for her.” She hums, knowing how much you enjoy figuring out what people are trying to say through their plates.

"Can you get them with just two letters on it?" It's a question you've never, ever had to contemplate before and now you can't recall if you've ever seen a short vanity plate before.

“What about MJ and the year?” She suggests.

"That could work." You hold up your glass to her to toast. "Just as long as you go for endless drives with me and keep being my adventure buddy. I can't possibly be Thelma without my Louise."

“Always.” She snorts and picks up her own glass to tap against yours. “I’ll be the scrub in the passenger side of my best friend’s ride.”

You snort, but toast her anyway. "You're dating us with that lyric, babe."

That makes her laugh, even though it’s jarring how much time as passed by since she first discovered her first soulmate mark and hoped to find them soon. “I’ll own it.”

"It's a good ass song." There's no debating that. Just like there's no debating how relaxed you are with your soulmate on one side of you and your best friend on the other. With a whole table full of friends. It's become your new reality almost as quickly as meeting and marrying your soulmate, and there's something about that that clenches your heart tonight. "And I swear I'm not getting teary over a TLC song."

“Yes you are.” Moira snorts. “But that’s okay. Right now, everything in your life is perfect.” She might be a little envious, but she would never begrudge you this happiness. You deserve it and more.

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