#so naturally i am doing anything but that

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[tmntxthings]

一∑Moth to a Flame・゜・。

author’s notes: this is my entry for @dancingdonatello ‘s competition :D this has been sm fun and I can’t wait to read everyone else’s stories!!!

prompt: "You like them...more? Is that it? Am I the second choice?" "That's not true..." "Then choose me. Choose us."

warnings: angst, situation-ship, aged-up characters, college au, alcohol consumption, jealousy, yandere tendencies? cliffhanger

—————————————————————————

Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

~

Mutants and yokai kind alike have been out for years. So in the ‘town’ he and his brothers grew up in, they finally came to be free from the shadows. As free as heroes can be at least. They still needed to be a bit secretive on where they lived, in case of revenge-seeking villains.

But with mutants out on the surface, New York had grown accustom to them. Well, as accustom as they can be…

Donnie has met many people. He’s been able to attend college. Mostly online. But he finds the time to attend some evening classes in person. He met you. A floundering classmate in need of assistance.

Usually Donnie can find an excuse to get out of helping every poor soul that crosses his path. That’s what the professors are for. The librarians. Hell the student mentors! But with you… he just couldn’t resist.

The study sessions were long. But in the end you were able to pass, “All thanks to you Dee!!” You had cheered shoving your research paper into his face for him to appraise your passing grade. Barely passing, but it showed your improvement nonetheless.

He had been about to tease you of this. Three months of his help and you hardly grazed by?! But the thought was cut short as you pulled the papers away from his face and up you jumped.

Arms going around his neck and squealing your joy. He was frozen for a millisecond before his arms twitched into motion. His hands going around your back, holding you. That was the first time you had initiated such skin-ship.

Sure there had been the occasional touching of hands, passing laptops, books and the like back and forth. There had even been moments of playful touch, nudging his arm with your elbow for his odd choice in coffee. A tap above his glasses when he got too focused on his own work to answer your sporadic questions.

The hug didn’t last very long in terms of time. Seconds merely. But it made a lastly impression on Donnie. With the class over, you had no other reason to see him again. The prospect had Donnie fumbling to invite you out, to do anything to prolong such an ending to this blooming relationship.

“What classes are you taking next semester?” He had asked. You promised to text him the list, already having to dash off for one last exam.

He worried that would be the end.

Thankfully it wasn’t. You texted him later that evening, telling him all about the rest of your day as well as the list per his request. Unfortunately the two of you didn’t share any other classes. And it seemed unlikely for the future as well, the two of you were on diverging paths. Donnie despaired.

But you found reasons to message him. By the time the next semester rolled around the two of you were study partners, no matter the subject. Donnie would help if he could, and usually he was able. But there was a shift in the relationship. Outings to the library and other study areas changed to coffee shops. Then to your place. It only felt natural to invite you over to his.

Preparations were put in place. As were warnings “Yes, I do live in a sewer with my brothers and dad.” And “No it doesn’t reek of waste or garbage.” And “Yes there is one rat actually, my dear Papa.”

You took it all in stride. The introductions to his family went as well as they ever did. Friends. The two of you were officially friends. Donnie couldn’t be happier. With such a title he took more initiative with online contact. His messages would ramble on, sprinkled with pictures and videos.

Semesters continued to pass by and the bond between the two of you only grew. In turn, with more trips to his home, you became friends with his brothers. With April. It was just natural.

And then there was graduation. A celebration was in order. Four years, you had been in his life for four years and he couldn’t imagine it without you. The plan was to dress to the nines, and go out on the ‘town’! Drinking and dancing.

Of course, his brothers were invited as well as a few of your other friends. Donnie was no stranger to clubbing. The bar scene had become somewhat of a regular occurrence once his friendship with you was solidified.

You liked to go out. You liked music. He obliged on a few occasions to be your dancing partner and thus every time after it was his official label. Donnie was adverse to the huge crowds. It didn’t offer much room for dancing, but he’d endure it for you. With you in his arms it all seemed bearable. The music that was so loud it thumped in his plastron. The heat in the room percolating from the sheer number of bodies. Even the taste of alcohol, on the very, very rare occasion you got him to drink.

It always tasted horrible. No matter the different shots or mixed cocktails. God forbid a beer. You had pushed all sorts of these beverages on him, eyes crinkling up at him with amusement as his beak wrinkled from disgust.

Those nights with alcohol involved always ended strangely. Your touch would light him up from the inside. He’d want to hold you closer, lean in as far as you’d let him. Pull at your waist, dig his fingers into your hips during the last dance before the two of you had to part for the night. Those nights ended with kisses.

And by the next day you would never talk about them. So he didn’t either. Even as his murky memory of all other events seemed to part with clarity for how you had panted heat into his mouth. He’d flush dark green at just the thought and have to swallow the spit that pooled in his mouth.

This had happened a handful of times. The kissing. And with no communication whatsoever afterwards it put Donnie on edge. He wondered why it happened at all if you didn’t want to acknowledge the deed once it was done. He wondered about what it said on account of his own self worth for him to continue to let it happen.

To look forward to nights out. To nights you pushed a shot glass his way. To want your lips on his by the end of it all.

So with this big celebration, Donnie was expecting the same routine if only highlighted by the fact that both of you were now graduates. He’d be your dance partner. The two of you would spin for an hour or two, or however long you wanted. And he’d order himself a drink this time. One that he found slightly bearable than the rest.

Only, that wasn’t what was happening. Drink in hand? Sure. Your hand in his other? No. He was grumbling over at the bar shooting hateful daggers where you resided on the dance floor. You were dancing with Leo.

Donnie grimaced as he took a long hard sip. It was like acid in his mouth. Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

You laughing as Leo twirled you around. How wrong it felt to watch your arms go up and around his brother’s neck. Donnie was a better dancer. He knew in his soul that he could beat Leo in any category. Waltz, disco, salsa, you name it, Donnie could dance it. But his prowess didn’t seem to matter. Which only further incensed him. Why were you doing this? How could you possibly allow Nardo to take his place? His rightful role. Donnie was supposed to be your dance partner. And the only time you were allowed to dance with another was whenever he deigned to skip such an outing.

He was here. Dressed in an aubergine suit. Jacket button undone. And his black dress shirt was unbuttoned as well. Three buttons plucked, showing off too much skin in his opinion for such a crowd. But he had been feeling flirty. Flirty for someone who wasn’t even glancing his way.

Donnie fumed once more. Cursing in his mind as he lifted his drink and threw his head back. Maybe the taste would kill him. His eyes squeezed shut as the liquid poured down his throat and he tried not to gag. Bad decision.

When his eyes reopened it couldn’t have been at a worse moment. Leo was dipping you, his face leaning dangerously close to yours, his hand snug on your waist. Leo said something in your ear.

Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the heat. But when Donnie saw your darkened cheeks, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He stormed to the dance floor. Yanking Leo’s hand away from your body once you were upright.

“What’s up hermano?” Leo’s smile was grating. Donnie had to force himself not to snarl. He took your hand and pulled you after him. Leaving Leo. Leaving this place. He had to get out of here now.

“Donnie?!” You called out over the music. But you didn’t pull away. You let him lead you out of the club. Out on the sidewalk, then off to the alleyway.

“Is everything okay?” You asked once he finally stopped. When he turned to look down at you, your eyebrows were creased with worry. Lips pulled into a line. Donnie was cracking. He couldn’t do this any longer. Did you like Leo? Did you want a ‘face man’? Was he not enough anymore? Was he being replaced? The thoughts were suffocating him and he pulled you to his plastron, backing you into the building wall simultaneously.

“I’m here, but Dee you’ve gotta say something, I’m getting worried..” You mumbled into his clothes. Your arms going around Donnie’s shell, petting over his jacket. Offering him comfort. It wasn’t enough. He huffed his frustration.

“Should I go get your brother?”

It was the wrong thing to say. And this time he did snarl.

“No.”

Your hands froze. Falling back down to your sides. You’d never heard him so angry before. He couldn’t find it within himself to care at the moment. His displeasure written all over his face as you looked up at him.

“What’s going on?”

And Donnie remembered himself thinking that so many times with you. As you had took his breath away. And then again when you pretended like you couldn’t recall ever doing so.

“Don-“

He leaned down. Capturing your lips. Kissing you like you did to him. Only where you had made him breathless, this seemed to have the opposite effect. You puffed up. Bristling in his arms as you tried shoving him away.

It hurt.

He was much stronger than you. He could overpower you easily. But your push was like a blow to the plastron. He staggered back, all anger leaving him. A husk as he squeezed his fists shut, head hanging down as you berated him.

“What the hell was that?! Are you drunk?? Donnie what is going on? If you don’t fucking say something right now, I swear to god,”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back and it was enough to quiet you.

From there it was as if his mouth couldn’t be stopped. “I don’t know! I thought this was what we did. I didn’t hallucinate those three times you kissed me. Don’t deny it any longer!” He was heaving, face coming up to stare accusingly at you.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You kissed me! Drunkenly, but it was still there. And I can’t forget. I can’t pretend they never happened. I don’t know how you can.” His hands were in motion as he ranted. Throwing them out with the building of emotion.

“So I thought tonight would be no different. We’d get drunk. We’d dance. And we’d kiss! I want all of that. Even though I’d do it without the alcohol.” His voice cracked towards the end. But he continued to push on.

“But you danced with him. So I went and got drunk enough for the both of us.” He felt pathetic admitting this out loud. He staggered forward, unable to remain so far apart. Despite you having pushed him away. He was just a moth to your flame. He’d let himself be burnt.

“You like him more?” He asked in a voice so low it practically went unheard. His hand came up, a finger tracing down the side of your cheek.

“Is that it? Am I the second choice?” His lids lowered in time as he ran out of skin to skim. His hand fell away from your face but he had crowded you close to the wall once more. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“That’s not true.” You exasperated. But that hardly cleared up anything for him. If that was the case then what were you doing dancing with his brother and not him? Why couldn’t he kiss you? Why were the both of you still pretending to be friends?

“Then pick me. Choose me.” Donnie pleaded. He didn’t care how needy it sounded. He’d do whatever it took. Get down on his knees if he had to. Because you had become a part of his life four years ago. Four years of a presence he didn’t know he needed. Up until it was far too late. And now there was no turning back. He’d be damned if he let you get away.

[indigohbu23]

Mattheo Riddle x Reader (first time)

Warnings: Low level smut, First times, Dry humping orgasm, soft!Mattheo, mentions something slightly corruption kinky-sh? (first time writing smut so hit me with it if i have missed anything :) )

You had kissed Mattheo gently, pulling away after just a few seconds, much to Mattheos despair.

He closed his eyes as he felt your lips touch his. The sensation of your lips on his, no matter how gentle, sent a wave of electricity throughout his body. He almost felt a pang of disappointment as you pulled away and ruffled his hair.

He looked at you with a slightly frustrated expression.

”Hey… why’d you stop..? You blushed lightly, looking down at the bed covers.

"I'm nervous Mattheo, I've never done anything like this before" I admitted.

He softened at the sight of your nervous expression. He knew all too well how nerve racking things were right now due to the new and blossoming nature of your relationship. He reached out and placed a hand on your cheek, silently trying to comfort you

“I know… but don’t worry..” He whispered as he tilted your face up to look at him “I’ll take care of you” You leaned forward, kissing him softly again. The passion of the kiss crept up on you. Mattheo felt the passion behind your kiss this time and it took him by slight surprise at first. But he quickly melted into the kiss, pulling you closer against him and his hands travelled down your body. His hands settled on your waist, holding you against him as he deepened the kiss more. Mattheo lips parted in a soft gasp as you bit on his lip, and you immediately took the opportunity to get more access. He groaned softly as he felt your tongue move inside his mouth. His hands roamed up and down your body, occasionally gripping onto your hips as your tongue explored his warm mouth. This was all a totally new feeling to you, you had never known kissing could feel this good. You tested the waters, climbing so you straddled Mattheos lap. He let out a soft moan as you did, instantly feeling himself becoming aroused when you began grinding against him. He moved his head back slightly, giving you more access to his hair, as he held you down onto him with his hands placed on your hips

“Careful sweetheart... you’re gonna drive me mad like this” he whispered breathlessly. Your knees went weak, his voice having such an incredible effect on your body. "Is that such a bad thing?" you said in a breathless tone, using all of the courage you had mustered up. He gripped your hips even harder at the sound of your sultry voice, unable to control himself as a small moan escaped his lips

“Fuck.. no it’s not a bad thing..” He practically growled out, his hands holding your hips impossibly tight as you continued to move against him. ''A-am I doing this right? Like, does it feel okay?" you whimpered out, the friction was almost too much for you.

Mattheo could feel his breathing getting more and more heavy with each kiss, the friction between the two of you driving him insane as he let out breathy noises in between kisses

“You’re.. doing perfect” He reassured you, his voice was low, and raspy, and he gently moved your hips, showing you how to move against him. The pace of the grinding had becoming more sloppy, and the friction was building a familiar feeling in your stomach. "Fuck- ugh, Mat-theo, I think I'm gonn-fuck" you mustered out between breaths, burying your face into his neck.

He could feel your body begin to tense, he could see and hear how close you were, and it was driving him crazy. He held you tightly against his body, groaning softly as you buried your head into his shoulder

“Yeah.. yeah baby, I know.. let go-” He growled out, his hands holding your body close to his. His voice pushed you, you had began to convulse on top of him, a spew of whimpers leaving your mouth as you shuddered. Mattheo held onto you tightly as your body shuddered on top of him, he groaned as he felt it, the feeling of you falling apart on top of him was enough to almost put him over the edge.

“God.. you sound so good, babe” He gritted out, his head buried in your shoulder, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Something had crossed your mind, and the words were falling out your mouth in short bursts as you rode out your high. "Matty, are you able to finish like this? Do you need mo-" You were cut off.

Mattheo's breathing was heavy, and he was trying to hold himself back from coming, but as the words came out your mouth, the feeling of your body on top of him already sent him over the edge. His head fell back into the pillow, his whole body was shuddering as he groaned out

“God.. no.. I’m.. I’m okay like this..” *He panted out between breaths, his hand squeezing onto your hip, almost too tight as he orgasmed, the sensations he was feeling right now were heavenly. The innocence in your voice, throwing him off. Your legs gave out as you collapsed onto Mattheo. You could feel his heart beat as you lay on his chest. He lay in your bed, panting heavily, his whole body shaking slightly, trying to catch his breath. He felt you lay down on top of him, your body against his, the whole experience he’d just had with you was beyond anything he’d dream of.

“You.. you did so good, sweetheart..” He whispered, his voice was still breathless and raspy as he held you to him. "Thank you... That was amazing" you breathed out, getting comfy on his chest. "We gotta go shower" I mentioned "Only if you join me, babe"

[kiame-sama]

A headcanob I have is specifically for Dragons, you know all the Fairy tales of Dragons guardiang Princesses?

I like to imagine that back when human existed that they had somekind of symbiotic relationship with Draconic creatures, they get yo be protected by them and in return the humans would keep peace between their other life hoard, cook them meals, offer handmade jewels, ect

This in turn evolved Draconic creatures to be naturally more drawn to any Human who is near them.

Another headcanon I have is that Packbounding is barely understood by most Creatures of Twisted Wonderland, since human literally can packbound with anything...Even robots or animals

I love it!

I was intending to have Malleus be the only weirdo dragon that hoarded live creatures, but if I were a dragon I would hoard all friend-shaped creatures too, so it would make sense that even the Thorn Fairy would hoard these soft little Humans for her own sake. It would make sense Malleus is just doing as his ancestors did and decided the soft Human he found was now his despite knowing very little about Humans. It would also explain the mythos of Dragons kidnapping Humans for their hoards and being so territorial about protecting them. (All I can think of now is those burrowing Tarantulas that keep little frogs as pets and protect them so the frog can keep the tarantulas eggs safe from smaller bugs).

Pack Bonding in Humans is absolutely misunderstood by everyone in Twisted Wonderland because Humans are mostly misunderstood by those in Twisted Wonderland. Humans are the equivalent of Dodos to most. I myself am rather bonded to my phone, the strange red giraffe plush I won from a claw machine, and most of my stuffed animals. I will cry hysterically over the loss of any of them despite being 25+ and 'too old' for stuffies.

[vulpixisananimal]

"And you're absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent sure about this?" (Isabeau asked, he looked at you, concerned. He had worried about you all morning, helping you get ready for the day, checking for bruises, for anything wrong at all. But no, the only issue you had was the same issue you had yesterday.)

"I'm sure, absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent sure." (You nod. It was, it was the only place you could think to go.)

(The Favor Tree.)

(You were going to be useless in the house. Drag them all down, get them killed, fail over and over again if you just ran into that brick wall called the House of Change. No, no what you needed, was, some time alone.)

(It took some convincing, but eventually, everyone agreed. Isabeau would help you to the Favor Tree, sit you down, and you'd wait for them to return. You tried to subtelty give them tips, hints on how to get through the house without you, but it was hard without giving anything away.)

(They would be the heros this loop, you'd just be another frozen soul in Dormont, unless you looped back beforehand, naturally.)

"I-I could still carry you! I wouldn't mind! I can beat sadness AND help you through the house!" (Isa was practicly begging, but you couldn't go, not this time at least.)

(You chuckled, and smiled.) "Hey don't worry, I'll be waiting for you right where you leave me, okay?"

"Ha, haha. ." (The laugh was forced. Jokes wouldn't help warm the air here.)

(Eventually, the two of you ended up at the Favore Tree. It loomed above you; imposing, menacing, taunting. You kept your forced smile, Isabeaus arm holding you up. You still. Couldn't. Fell. It.)

". . . The Favor Tree's pretty cool, isn't it?" (Isabeau says.)

"Yeah it is. . ." (Ah you knew this line.)

"Glad you agree!"

(Make the pun. Make the pun it's the one thing you gotta do each time to stay sane just, make the pun.) "One could say it's a pretty. . ."

". . Uh huh?"

"Tree-mendous tree!" (You say, just like before.)

". . Heh, hehaha! Ha!" (Isabeau laughs, you laugh. This time at least it wasn't as forced but. . . You could still tell he wasn't happy with it. With your whole situation.)

(He doesn't reach for you. Good thing too, you couldn't step back either.)

"Any place you want to be set down, or. . ." (Isa asks)

"Oh uh, just that root over there." (You gesture with a nod. Isa helps you over and sits you down, leaning your back against the tree. He steps back. He was looking at you, his face was full of, pitty? Great, it was pitty.)

"And, you're absolutely, sure?"

"I'm sure, Isa, okay? I promise." (You keep smiling.) "See you after the day's saved, okay?"

". . . Okay, I-I'll, I'll see you. Later. I'll see you later. After we're back."

"You'll do great! Isa! Big buff guy Isabeau! You'll do great!"

"Yeah!!! It'll go great!!" (Isabeau finally smiled back. As forced as it was.)

(He waved, you smiled back, he walked away. You wait untill he's gone. A beat, two, three, four. . .)

(. . .)

(. . . . . . . .)

". . . . Wow Stardust! You've really caused quite the stir!" (And in an instant that familiar voice filled your ears. You turn your head and sure enough, Loop was there. Oh Loop. Reliable, wonderful, annoying as hell. They didnt have a mouth but those eyes were all they needed to grinn.) "You have Isabeau carting you around like royalty! My, lucky you!"

"Loop. . ." (Your breathing gets heavy.)

"Was it all to get more time with me, Stardust? You know you could have just snuck out~"

"Loop I, I can't-" (Your stomach hurts.)

"What, can't move?!?" (Loop huffed, looking away.) "Come on, Stardust! You went back in time! So what if the King snapped your spine, it's fine now!"

"But, it's not-" (Why didn't they believe you?)

"It's fine!! It has to be fine!!" (Their tone changes, angry, or-) "You changed time!! Whatever you did it doesn't matter now!! It gets, turned, back!!"

"THEN WHY CAN'T I DO ANYTHING?!?" (You yell, you yell and yell. You yell and cry.) "WHY CAN'T I FEEL ANYTHING?!? WHY CAN'T I MOVE?!?! WHY AM I JUST, SO, USELESS?!?!?!"

(Loop doesn't reply. You keep crying, you can't, you can't stop yourself.)

"I can't do anything!! I'm useless!!! A sack of rocks to be hauled around!! I can't do anything by myself, always needing help!!! Do you think I want that?!?"

"I can't move!! I CAN'T MOVE!!!! I can't check for traps!! I can't look for keys!! I can't fight I can't walk I can't eat I can't flip pages of a book I can't do ANYTHING!!!"

"We'll never make it out!!! We're STUCK here!!! AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT!!!"

(You were sobbing, you couldn't stop. You were stuck here. You couldn't move, you couldn't fight, walk, win, live, do anything. You'd never escape, you'd never get out.)

(You're doomed.)

(It's quiet. You don't know for how long it's quiet for. You sob, unable to stop, eye squeezed closed. Loop doesn't say anything. You hear the wind rustle the leaves of the Favor Tree. You feel the sun on your face.)

(You calm down, taking a few deep breaths, one, two, three, four, five, sex, seven. You're okay, you're fine, you're okay now, you're.)

(You're. Over. It.)

". . . . . . Siffrin, I. . ." (Loops voice. You don't open your eye.) ". . . . I'm sorry."

". . . It's fine."

"No! It's not fine!" (They huff.) "If- since it looks like you really are stuck like this, we need, a new plan."

". . ." (You sigh.)

"You won't be getting anywhere by moping Stardust~" (Loop giggles.) "Who knows! This could be some twisted blessing in disguise!"

"Yeah right. . ." (You roll your eye.)

". . . Well? Are you just going to sit there being sorry for yourself?"

"Sorry, let met just stand up and be sorry somewhere else." (You stick your tongue out.)

"Hah! Hahahaha!!" (Loop laughs, and claps their hands together.) "Well now that you're feeling better, how can I help you out on this wonderful new loop, Stardust?"

[kcaitlyn]

hc. how i imagine the yj girls in relationships. part 1 (pre-crash nat, van, tai, lottie. others in pt. 2)

A/N: fem!reader, nsfw references, but nothing crazy. mention of drugs, alc. ooc, possibly? not proofread well cause who has time am i rite, been a while since i've watched yj lol. if this does well, i might do a post-crash version..

NATALIE

𓇼 Your relationship with Nat would be 110% banter, no doubt about it. Teasing (in and out of bed), name calling, little pokes and bites are a constant for you two. I feel like she's not the best (intentionally or not) at being traditionally romantic, so instead of heartfelt declarations of love, you're more likely to receive a 'yeah, you're pretty cool' or a 'I suppose you're not too bad' accompanied by a grin and kiss instead. However, that's not to say she doesn't express her love in other ways.

𓇼 Skipping class to sit with her friends together at least once per day, and cramming a whole semester’s worth of notes together when her (and/or your) grades eventually slip. Although, I doubt much would get done..

𓇼 I feel like most of your dates or hangouts would be outside- not necessarily doing anything, just relaxing by a lake or on some random curb in Wiskayok to escape your families (mostly Nat’s) and just to catch a break from everything.

𓇼 When you are together at someone’s place though, it would be your house more often than her’s. Nights would consist of sneaking in through windows, trying to stifle giddy laughs and smoking on the rooftop of your home or her trailer.

𓇼 Natalie would 100% be sneaking you in and out of the school locker rooms, too. She thinks it’s a shame to waste such a private space, always pulling you in there to make out or just relax in-between periods (much to the rest of the team’s annoyance. They’ve actually started a petition to ban you).

𓇼 Natalie pretends not to notice, but deep down seeing you in the bleachers during her games always makes her mushy. Seeing you cheering for her, encouraging her- it only makes her play harder.

𓇼 She’s always super affectionate after games, too- running up to you and squeezing you, all sweaty and tired. The evenings after more often than not would consist of weed and cuddles, Natalie being the little spoon as you massage her sore muscles, laughing and talking about whatever comes to mind.

𓇼 Speaking of, if you’re down for it then Natalie would absolutely revel in getting high with you. Relaxing, sharing a blunt, cuddling, making out and letting her eat you out is an insanely common occurrence- her favorite way to spend her time. Sharing any drugs she got from her friends with you, yet her loyalty to you would never even come close to wavering even under the influence.

𓇼 This girl would be incredibly loyal. Natalie knows abandonment, she knows being fucked over by someone else- and never ever would she subject you to that on her terms. Although her communication may not be the best, and her temper’s far from perfect, she’ll always stick by your side.

𓇼 I feel like she’d be the jealous type, too. Fights and bickering between you two wouldn’t be far apart, but never serious- and always mended with tender cuddles, sex and apologies after.

VAN

𓇼 For some reason I have this feeling that pre-crash Van was super outdoorsy and adventurous. I can imagine her dragging you along to camping trips, hikes, time on the lake or just to spend time hanging out in nature.

𓇼 Definitely with her family, too. Van to me seems like her family and partner would come first in her heart, and would love to spend time with everyone together.

𓇼 Super playful. Van would be the type to always tease, always joke. You wouldn't be able to count on two hands the amount of times she's shoved a bug in your face, or chased you around with a spider.

𓇼 (Always met with soft chuckles and apologies, your face attacked with remorseful kisses and holding you for hours. Until she does it again.)

𓇼 Van would be very, very touchy and affectionate. Quality time and physical touch are 100% her main love languages, along with teasing meaning this girl cannot keep her hands off you. An arm around your waist or shoulder when you're out with friends, holding hands as you weave through trees, even pinkies or feet touching under a table in class. She can't get enough of you.

𓇼 Basically, Van's best comparable to a loving little dog- always at your hip, your biggest fan. Any sports you play, hobbies you indulge in- she's there to encourage you.

𓇼 And when you reciprocate at her matches, cheering her on proudly from the bleachers? You've probably had her so distracted and giddy that she's missed a few balls whizzing into the goal beside her.

𓇼 She would take you celebrating after her wins, to your most common date spot (and Van's personal favorite), the cinema. With Van, you'd be there at least once a week. What can she say, two of her favorite things? You, and movies? A chance to geek out together? Why wouldn't she insist you go nearly each day after school?

𓇼 Although, I feel like Van could be a little oblivious and dismissive at times. After unknowingly receiving flirting from some other girl at a party or unknowingly saying something that could be perceived as flirting when she was drunk, Van might be quick to wave it off as an accident. This could spark fights between you two, but quickly after seeing how it affected you Van would be quick to apologise and come to.

𓇼 (May I add that in those scenarios, she 100% turns into a service top, as part of the apology of course. Anything to make her girl happy.)

TAI

𓇼 Taissa’s definitely a more mature and slow paced partner compared to some of the other Yellowjackets, like Natalie or Lottie. Your relationship would be a lot more domestic than them, too.

𓇼 Sure, you and Tai would still attend parties together, you would get to support her at her soccer matches and do all the usual teenage stuff together. However, dates where you just co-exist the way adult couples do would be a staple in your relationship. Cooking together, tagging along to run errands, lazy Sundays in are common when you’re with Tai.

𓇼 Your relationship would also be very academic, too. Study dates, talking for hours about what career you strive for and how awesome everything would be after graduation. Revising together made fun, taking an item of clothing off for each failed cue-card or only getting a kiss if you can correctly recall something.

𓇼 Tai wouldn’t be down for PDA at all. She’d definitely be the type to be affectionate behind closed doors only, not just out of embarrassment but in favour of keeping her romantic and public life seperate (a fact that holds true especially as she gets older).

𓇼 Tai’s communication and openness is a strong point in your relationship, but I feel conflicts could stem from the idea she wasn’t intending to stay with you long run. Tai’s grand plans to leave for university, have her share of lovers- she was never intending your relationship to last past high school.

𓇼 However, after whatever fights or even temporary breakup ensues, Tai would realise that you’re worth more to her than a high school romance and that she can really see herself with you in the long run.

LOTTIE

𓇼 As long as you're with Lottie, you wouldn't lift a finger- let alone a credit card. She's got you covered.

𓇼 I feel like Lottie’s the type of partner to love just.. existing in the same vicinity as you. It majorly stems from her decent, but lonely childhood- parents always out of the house leaving Lottie by herself.

𓇼 But now that Lottie has you, any time she’s just at home alone- be it studying, training or just relaxing she’s always quick to call you over. Luckily for you two, you have all the privacy in the world alone in her large home to do whatever you please.

𓇼 Lottie’s primary love languages are 100% Gift giving, and quality time. Any time she’s out and sees some little trinket that reminds her of you, best believe she’s stealing buying it. On top of that, any chance to be near you Lottie takes. You’re running an errand? She’ll be there. Lottie’s heading to do some after school practice? You can come, and read a book on the bleachers or something. Just so you’re near. Just so you’re close.

𓇼 I feel like Lottie’s not too big on PDA, but doesn’t entirely hate it, either. Full on kissing or making out isn’t on the cards in your relationship, but linking fingers, holding hands or leaning against each-other is totally okay by her- whatever makes her girl happy. Another thing Lottie loves is sharing a headphone cord with you- or singing along loudly to music in her car. However, around her family Lottie would be colder and more reserved with her affection.

𓇼 Lottie wouldn’t necessarily flaunt your relationship like Jackie- but she wouldn’t be shy, either. If someone asks, they’d likely be met with a- ‘yeah, I’m with (y/n), she’s my girlfriend’, or something along those lines. She isn’t secretive about you by any means, just casual. Keeping you to herself. She wouldn’t be vocal about jealousy, either. Just clingy, or sad.

𓇼 I also have a feeling that since Lottie’s always had access to quality clothes, items and whatever else- having something with real sentimental value rather than monetary value would mean so much more to her than a regular gift. Little homemade keychains or a good luck charm is something I can totally see her carrying around with her, especially since it was made by you.

𓇼 Since all her meals were made by nannies, her room cleaned by maids, having you there to do all that with her really resonates deep inside Lottie’s heart. Having you there to teach her how to do the things she never had to learn- how to cook, wash her clothes, empty a vacuum- it means so much to her.

𓇼 I feel like Lottie can be a real tease, too. Cheeky banter back and forth similar to Natalie, except she’s better at expressing her love sincerely. It’s all situational with Lottie- teasing and cheeky, or tender and soft. No matter how she is, though- Lottie’s loyalty is made clear.

𓇼 Although, at times I think Lottie could grow distant and pull herself away from you when she’s overwhelmed, angry or tired. If you try and talk to her, she might get frustrated and say something she really didn’t mean- again, likely stemming from her family. However, once she’s cooled off, Lottie would do anything in her power to make it up to her partner.

𓇼 Little gifts, massages, fancy dates or just fucking you for hours- anything to pamper you, take care of you. On that note, Lottie’s totally a switch, but greater than that, a huge service top. She wants nothing more than to make you feel good, happy and safe.

𓇼 In terms of pet names, I feel like Lottie would steer away from the really corny and sappy ones, settling for a variant of your name or something simple like ‘love’ or ‘babe’. Study hangouts would also be really common between you two, and even more often than that just lounging around at her place or going to parties together.

[sparklingblu]

Pulse

Sohyun X Xinyu

P.S: I'm trying a new style of writing here.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

There's something calm and comforting about the crowded coffeeshop. The hissing of the espresso machine, the bustle of human conversation, the clinking of ceramic cups - they all seem to blend together to create a new yet totally familiar world. That's the reason I've come here. To be swallowed by this background noise and extract myself from reality if just for a moment.

I sit in my usual corner, my elbow against a cup of cappucino which has long since gone cold and a textbook opened but largely ignored. I have read the same line for the last thirty minutes but none of it seems to stick. I'm too distracted by the noise and my own thoughts, adrift in this place.

University is supposed to be a place where you "find yourself" but I seem to have lost my sense of direction as soon as I step my foot here. Everyone around me seems so sure of what they are doing, raised chests and energetic steps. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to keep my head down, pretending like I belong while I don't even know who I am yet.

Outside, the leaves are just starting to turn yellow - the afternoon light casting a lazy red glow on them. It's the start of a new season though I barely feel like anything have changed in this new life I'm settling into. It's just a struggle to fit in from day to day.

I bring my lips to the rim of my cofee cup, grmiacing as the bitter taste washes over me. It doesn't come as a surprise. The only reason people come here is for the atmosphere - to mingle and jingle . The cofee is just a necessity to stay.

I glance at the moving world from my seat near the window. A steady flow of students rush past the platfrom on the otherside, their laughter echoing through the glass. It's as if they know a secret I have yet to understand.

I pull the sleeve of my sweater over my knuckles, retreating into the soft fabric. Nearby, my phone buzzes with a notification from a group chat that I never have been a part of. I don't bother to check and it becomes one of the many sounds that fills the place.

I used to think university would be different - a total contrast to my mundane high school life. That I'd step into the place and everything will click into place. Like the rest of my life have been a prelude to this. But here I am. Already chickening out in the first week.

I chug down the remainder of my cold coffee, shove my books into the bag and was about to leave when a burst of cool air sweeps through the place, followed by the jingle of the bell above the door. And I happen to be one of those people who instictively gawk at the newcomer.

There she is, waltzing into the room like she owns it. The energy of the outside world seems to radiate from her body. There's nothing loud or brash about her but she draws attention anyway - an easy confidence that ripples through the place. She brushes a stray strand of hair our of her face, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

She stands out naturally,moving as if she's utterly home in her skin, in this place. It's the kind of self-insurance that seems totally foregin to me. I can't even imagine what it's like to be in her shoes. Not like I will have a chance. She's everything I'm not.

Her hair is slightly tousel, falling in loose waves that looks almost intentional. She's wearing a plain white shirt, its crispiness a total contrast to her slouch jeans.

She orders a cofee - espresso, no sugar- and while she waits, she cracks a joke at the waiteress, painting her cheeks red. All this time, my eyes linger on her with a strange sort of fascination, watching like she's the only form of enteratinment I have had in a long time. And it's true in a way.

She takes the plastic cup and the change from the waiteress with a smile. She turns and that's when the trouble starts. I have expected her to leave as swiftly as she has come. Someone like her probably have more important businesses than slothing around.

Her eyes dart around the café and it takes me a moment to realize she's looking for a seat. So she's staying. But luck doesn't seem to be on her side today beacaue every single seat has been occupied. Well, except..

"Hey" she says, and it's casual, like we have been friends forever. "Mind if I sit there?"

She's gesturing at the seat across from mine, which I have strategically left empty to create a distance between me and everything else. I hesistate a tad bit too long before I response.

"Sure" I mumble, nodding towards the chair.

She sits, sliding the cup of coffee on the table with a soft thud. I have expected her to pull out a phone or do anything a stranger sharing a table with another stranger would do. But instead, she leans back and scans the room before her eyes come to rest on me.

"I have seen you before" she speaks, offering a slight smile as if she can read my thoughts.

I blink, caught off-guard. No 'hello' s. No 'hi' s. Straight to the point.

"Have you?" I say, sounding awfully stiff.

"Yeah. You have been in the same corner for the last week. You come here a lot?" She sips her coffee, eyes still on me.

I shrug. "Not always. But yeah. It's quiet"

She raised an eyebrow, glancing around the packed café. "Quiet?" she repeats, half laughing. "Compared to the dining hall, perhaps"

Just then, I realize how rudiculous I must sound. "Well, not today" I admit, lowering my gaze back to the books. "But usually"

She laughs again, but not mockingly so. "I get where you are coming from. Sometimes, it's good to be alone even though you are not truly alone" She couldn't have worded it better.

"Exactly" I say, nodding slowly.

A brief silent passes between us. She sips from her cup again. If the cappucino here is strong, I can't imagine what espresso would taste like. But she shows no sign of distaste.

"So, what do you study?" she asks, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

"Literature" I answer, shifting in my seat. For some reason, talking about my major always make me feel like I'm giving something away. Like I'm exposing myself.

"Ahhh Literature" She repeats the word, as if she's trying to decipher its meaning. "That must be....intense. Lots of complicated story about lots of different stuffs"

I nod, still unsure where she's headed. "I guess so. It's more about trying to understand them through their words. Deep fry your brain sometimes"

She huffs. "I can imagine. That's why I try to understand them through their heads, it's less exhausting that way. I'm in psych"

That makes sense. She has this way of speaking, as if she knows what the other party will say before they even open their mouths. But at the same time, respecting their boundaries.

I'm still trying to think of a valid response when she lifts her cup and stare at the remaining coffee like she's studying it. Then her gaze lifts back to me, eyes bright.

"You know, espresso reminds me of people"

I blink, surprised at the strange comparison. "Espresso? Why?"

She beams, leaning in. "Espresso's small right? Concentrated. If you take a sip, there's this rush - sharp and intense. It hits you so intensely that if you are not prepared, it can be overwhelming"

She takes a sip, as if giving me time to register her words. "But if you take it in bit by bit, the taste changes. The bitterness mellows out and you can feel each layer of richness underneath"

I stare at her, my tired brain struggling to understand what she's implying. Why espresso, out of all things?

She leans back and continues. "People are like that. Emotions, life, they come at you in the most unexpected times - swift, chaotic. Sometimes it can be too much to handle. But if you give it some times, let it breathe, you start to see the little parts that makes it up. That's when you start to discover yourself"

I can't help but smile. "You have thought a lot about this, haven't you?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just obsessed with espresso"

"Not the one here, I hope"

She smiles, instantly getting what I'm implying. It seems she's a regular customer too. "You gotta work with what you have. But you get the point"

"So....people are like espresso? Is that why you study them?" I question as she finishes up the last few drops of her coffee. This girl really likes espresso.

"Exactly" she snaps. I'm not sure if she's joking here. "It has always been my dream to do a thesis on espresso and emotions"

"Are you....?" I drift off and she bursts into laughter.

I feel the slightest hint of joy, like by asking that stupid question, I have contributed to her amusement in some way.

"Serious? No way. I'm not risking my degree for my unhealthy addiction. The last person I explained this to leave the table as soon as I'm done"

"Well, I'm still here"

Does it sound too cheesy?

"I can see that" She glances at the clock on the wall, frowning slightly. "I should get going. I have a class to prepared for"

I nod, feeling that familiar twist that comes with endings. "Right. Of course"

She stands, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. "It was nice talking to you" she says, her voice warm. "You can call me Sohyun"

"Xinyu" I reply. It sounds so much easier to say my name now.

"Xinyu" She lets the word roll off her tongue. "I like it"

"Thanks" She's already walking to the door when I response.

With one last glance, she re-enters the reality outside of this comforting bubble. I feel a strange sense of anticipation, like the conversation I just had have dropped some hint to solve this puzzle called life.

Sohyun and Espresso and People.

How peculiar.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The walk back across the campus was pleasant. The scene that welcomes me when I enter my room is not.

As I enter, I'm greeted by the familiar chaos of Yooyeon's world - clothes draped over the chair, a half eaten bag of snacks spilling out on the desk and music playing softly in the background. The mess have become such an essential part of the space that without it, you doubt you will recognize the room.

Yooyeon looks up from her bed, where she's lounging with her phone. She's dressed causual with a twist as usual - an oversized grey t-shrit with the words "You Shall Not Pass" emblazoned across the front and swetpants of the same color. As soon as she notices me, an infectious grin spreads across her face

"Xinyu! You are back!" She exclaims, eyes bright. "Did you finally make a friend or are you still on a first name basis with the library?"

"Ha ha. Very funny" I retort sarcastically as I shove my bag on the bed. "But yeah. I guess so"

She immediately sits up, her attention solely on me. "Wait, what? For real?"

I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. That's the thing about Yooyeon. It's like she has her own respirator of dopamine. Always on her feet. Not a hint of worry in those blue eyes.

"Her name's Sohyun. We met at the café" I answer, keeping my tone casual. One wrong octave and Yooyeon would immediately detect it.

"Ooooh, a café conversation, huh? Sounds like the opening to a great novel" She laughs, flopping back down to her bed. "What did you two talk about?"

I shrug, though I have anticipated the question. "Just espresso and....people"

Yooyeon grins even wider. "Don't tell me you spill your heart out. Cuz that would be really really-"

"It's nothing like that" I quickly interrupt. "It was just small talk. She's really easy to talk to"

"Easy is good. You need easy" Yooyeon bounces off her bed and start rummaging through her cupboard box of numerous books and posters. It has been a week and she still hasn't bothered to arrange her stuffs.

Not a moment sooner, she pulls out two bright blue mugs. "We should celebrate your burgeoning social life. I have got hot chocolate mix somewhere"

I roll my eyes. "You are impossible"

"Impossibly fun" Yooyeon winks as she pours the hot chocolate mix into the mugs and adds some hot water, the steam curling up. "You are on your way to becoming a social butterfly. Next thing you know, you will be hosting literary salons"

"Sure. After I finish this semester's readings" I reply lightly though the idea terrifies me.

Yooyeon hands me the steaming mug with a triumphant grin. "Here's to new friends and the magic of coffee! If you ever need a social coach to take you on this emotional espresso journey, I'm always available"

I take the mug from her, the warmth of it seeping into my palms. "No thanks"

"Aww come on. I can be the Ron to your Harry. Or the Peeta to your Katniss. Wait, nevermind. That's not a good idea" Yooyeon says, never failing to showcase her obsession with fiction. If Sohyun wants to do a thesis on espresso, Yooyeon would probably make one on Hunger Games. But her dream is closer to being a reality, given how she's in media studies.

"Isn't that the guy....who got like brainwashed or something?" I try to recall the memoies of the movie from time immemorial.

"Yeah. Poor Peeta..." Yooyeon says with a dreamy tone before she brings the mug to her lips.

"Fuck! It's hot" She yelps, immediately recoiling and almost spilling the hot drink.

"Who? Peeta?" I ask.

"No. The hot chocolate. Wait, no. I mean yes. Peeta, not this god awful drink" Yooyeon says while she furiously fans her mouth.

I can't help the chuckle that escape my lips. "I have always liked that Gale guy better"

Yooyeon's eyesbrow knit at my remark. And I already know a debate is headed my way.

"For starters,..."

And so it begins. I participate anyway although I know Yooyeon would win in the end as she always does. I'm not geeky enough for this.

But it doesn't matter. Because she's the only friend I have for now. Debating on fictional man not to be the odd one out doesn't seem so bad of a trade.

Would Sohyun like Gale better than Peeta?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

I'm up early the next morning. The kind of early that makes the world feels like it's still deciding whether or not it should go back to sleep. I look at the bedside clock - 5:55 am. Ha. I beat the alarm today.

Soft gray light shines through a hatch between the curtains, the world outside still enshrouded in the morning mist. All is quiet except for the occasional footsteps and soft snores of Yooyeon , whose face is half buried in the pillow. I smile, knowing she won't be up for at least an hour. The girl's have been up all night finishing an assignment.

I shiver slightly as the cool air grazes my skin when I pull the covers off. The mornings are getting colder, the first hints of autumn sneaking in. And it means I will have a harder time exiting the warm embrace of my sheets.

The chill in the air clings to me as I head towards the common bathroom. The hallways are empty at this time of the day. Not much early risers here. This building, Bradford Hall, is one of the older dorms on the campus. The floors creak with each step I take and the white paint on the wall have faded with age. For no reason, the place indulges a sense of legacy in me. Like I'm a part of something greater. Maybe it's the smell of chamomile that always hangs in the air.

The walk to the bathroom doesn't take long since my room's on the first floor. There's no burden of stairways. It takes five minutes tops for me to clean up - brush my teeth, wash my face and a couple arrangement of my messy hair that will stay the same way after. I still don't understand how some people manage to spend hours in the bathroom. Making yourself presentable shouldn't be that hard.

When I come back to the room, Yooyeon has tossed over, almost draping off the bed and murmuring something that sounds like a spell. She might be visiting middle-earth, Hogwarts and god knows where.

I cross over to my side of the room, the territory determined by an imaginary line Yooyeon have drawn on the first day. The room is barely big enough for two twin beds, a couple desks and a shared closet. My space is plain, simple. Almost empty except for the small lamp and the stack of books. It works fine by me.

Yooyeon's, however, is a total contrast. Her walls are covered with posters of whatever fictional book or movie you cam name. Not to mention the figurines that line her desk. "They give me motivation" Yooyeon has said. In my opinion, I wouldn't want an inch tall Darth Vader monitoring me all night. I bet Yooyeon would consider that 'hot' too.

I rummage through my closet without any initial dress code in mind. There isn't a need to worry. People wouldn't be up yet. There's no one to impress. I decide to go simple pulling on a bright blue sweater over my shirt and pulling on a pair of jeans. I slip on my worn-out sneakers, their familiar creaks greeting me. After a glance in the mirror, I decide to let my loose locks fall freely. I grab my bag and leave, careful not to wake Yooyeon, who's on the brink of falling off the bed.

The campus seems almost unrecognizable at this time of the day - the morning light bathing it in a warm glow that makes everything looks like it belongs to a painting. The air is still, undisturbed by the usual hustle of students. I take a deep breath as I make my way down the brick path.

The clues of autumn are scattered here and there - the air crisp and the leaves tinged with green and yellow like they haven't decided their favorite color yet. To my left, the towering main library roses like a cathedral, fog clinging to its ebony walls. The arched windows reflecting the sun rays.

Further down, the old lecture halls rise up on either sides of the path. They look like relics from the ancient past, a time unbeknownst. The ivy covered walls adding into its timelessness.

They weren't joking about this place being 'old'.

Ahead, the dining hall comes into view, no less younger than its confidants. With the dark wood beams and the high ceiling, it looks almost like a castle. The stone steps leading to the entrance are worn smooth by countless steps and the wooden doors, though thoroughly polished, creaks slightly as I push them open.

Inside, the place is most empty, save for a couple students scattered around. The smell of coffee and pastries fill the air, comforting in a way that makes me want to stay for hours. I grab a tray, throws on a couple of sandwiches and a glass of juice. My morning appetite have never been impressive.

I takes my usual place near one of the stained glass windows, spots of light showering on the table. I love this place. It's quiet and peaceful. Maybe except when Yooyeon's accompanying me.

I'm haflway through a cheese sandwich when the door swing opens.

Sohyun.

She walks in with a group of friends, at least five of them, talking and laughing. Their energy seemingly announcing they belong here.

Sohyun's dressed in almost the same way at our first meeting - a loose white shirt and cargos. And she strides across the hall with the same confidence from that day.

I didn't mean to stare but my eyes follow her, weaving through tables with her friends trailed behind. Like maybe our encounter was an interlude to something more.

I know I should go back to my sandwhich but when the soul craves, the body has to suffice. She turns my way just for a split second and without thinking, I give her a small smile. It's nothing special, really - just a 'Hey. I remember you from yesterday' kind of smile.

But Sohyun's eyes sweep over me as if I'm not even there and soon, she's swept up with her friends again, laughing at something they said.

It stings. Though it has no reason to. It's like a tiny blow that leaves you off-balance but not strong enough to knock you off your feet. Before I even realize it, my lips have pursed into a tight line and I'm already staring down at the unfinished plate of sandwiches. Maybe, yesterday was just a fever dream.

I didn't expect much, really. A nod, a wave, a smile - a sign of acknowledgement. Anything. I tell myself not to care. It's rudiculous to yearn for approval from someone you shared a coffee table with. But I can't help the cold weight settling in my chest.

I glance up at her again. She's still at the counter, taking her sweet time choosing her breakfast. The way she holds herself is so natural, like she belongs anywhere she goes. I envy that about her. I have always been needed to prove to earn a place in society while she just waltz through everything without a care.

Why is it bothering me so much?

Maybe I should be grateful for her brief cameo in my life. Or maybe it would have been better if we never met. Then she will just be another student who comes to eat breakfast. Not Sohyun.

But now, it's infecting me.

I take a sip of my orange juice, focusing on the cold liquid that wash down my throat. It's nothing, I tell myself. It's jst a stupid plea for attention. It doesn't matter. I have always been good at finding meanings in small thing but sometimes, small things are just......small. There's no more meaning to them than what they are.

Maybe that's all this is.

I watch her from the corner of my eyes as she settles down at a table with her friends, her laughter ringing out across the hall again. And for a momet, I almost want to laugh. Not because anything is funny but beacause how easily she moves through the world, through life.

And how easily she has forgotten me.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Over the next week, autumn have crept in like a quiet exhale. The trees have turned amber and yellow, their leaves falling in slow spiral onto tbe brick paths. The air has become sharp enough to sting my skin when I go out. It's the season of change, like people say. But this year, there's something unsettling about the sudden shift. Like I'm not ready for new beginnings.

Most of my time is spent surrounded by books and notes. Despite the constant pressure, it's nice to finally have a rhythm to life again. The rhythm that my fear of rejection have indulged. I have recovered quick and Sohyun has faded into nothing but another human whose life happen to cross ways with mine.

It's nothing to dwell on.

I sit at my desk, my table lamp casting a faint glow on the pages of 'Jane Eyre'. The word file opened on my laptop is still in the same state as it has been in the last hour - celan and empty. The syllables for the essay due tonight doesn't seem to be manifesting anytime soon.

I tap my fingers idly on the edge of the desk, glancing at the clock. It's nearly midnight now. The campus has gone still save for the ocassional laughter and footsteps of latecomers from the corridor. Peaceful. Quiet. But still not helping me collect my scattered thoughts.

I'm about to give up for the night and go to bed when the door suddenly flies open with a buest of energy and Yooyeon, in all her chaotic glory, stumbles into the room. She's panting, yet she has this wide grin plastered on her face.

I look up from my desk, startled by the sudden enteance. "Hey"

"Hey" she says, plopping down on the bed. "Guess what?"

I raise an eyebrow, bracing myself for whatever dramatic new she has to deliver. "What?"

"Yeonjun wants me to meet him at one of those fancy clubs. And he asked me to bring a friend" She grins even wider. "Guess who that friend's gonna be"

I blink. "Not me"

Yooyeons gives me a look, the kind that says she's not giving up until I give in. "Yes, you. Come on, Xinyu. You have been locked up here for so long. You need to get out"

"I've been studying" It's not enitirely a lie but it's not the truth either.

But Yooyeon's having none of it. "Studying, hiding, same difference. You are coming with me. Plus, it will be fun. Who know? Maybe you will even find a cute boy" She winks, then whispers. "Or a girl"

I'm not quick enough to surpress the blush that creeps up my cheek. "Yooyeon!"

"What? Don't tell me you still can't forget Ms. Espresso"

"This has nothing to do with her" To my surprise, my voice comes out shrill. "I'm just-"

"Blah blah blah. More excuses" Yooyeon cuts me off. "Come on, Xinyu. You will be doing me a huge favour. Yeonjun thinks I have no friends"

"You do have friends"

"Yeah. But no one would be available this late. And I'd rather go with you. You are....less dramatic"

Despite myself, I can't help but chuckle. "You mean 'naive' "

She shrugs, throwing a pillow at me. "You know what I mean. I don't need to worry about you throwing up or passing out or sleeping with the wrong guy"

"You just wants a wingwoman who will behave"

"Exactly" Yooyeon snaps. "So, what do you say? We'll go meet Yeonjun, hangs out for a bit. Then, we can come back to your books if you want"

I glance at my laptop, ths text cursor blinking in and out of existence as if reminding me of the marks soon to be lost. It's tempting to stay here but Yooyeon's right. Perhaps, I can take a breather just this once.

I sigh, pushing my chair back. "Fine. But don't expect me to drag your drunk ass back here"

Yooyeon lets out a triumphant squeal, practically bouncing off the bed. "Yes! You won't regret it"

She's already heading to the door when I throw a sweater over my shoulder. Yooyeon's dressed in her usual fit - jeans and a Lord of the Rings shirt, the one that says "You shalll not pass".

"Seriously? You are wearing that shirt again?" I ask, eyeing her.

Yooyeon shrinks away in mock offense. "Excuse me? Have some respect for the classics. Everybody loves Gandalf"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Let's go"

As soon as we step out of the building, we are hit by the cool night air. The campus is fast asleep, the street lamps casting long shadows across the brick paths. It feels peaceful, almost serene.

Yooyeon immediately starts chattering about this new Draco-Harry fiction, her hands waving animatedly as she speaks. I listen, half-distracted, my thoughts finding their way back to a topic unexplored for some times - Sohyun.

Maybe that morning in the dinining hall doesn't mean anything. It's jut a moment, and moments pass.

Despite the countless convincements, a part of me still wonders. What if she had smiled back? What if things have happened differently?

"Earth to Xinyu. Helloooooo" Yooyeon's voice break through my thoughts and I realize she has been talking to me this whole time.

"Sorry" I mumble, recomposing myself. "What were you saying?"

"I said, what do you think of Yeonjun?"

"He seems...nice" I answer, though I barely remember the guy.

Yooyeon grins, clearly pleased. "I know, right? He's the sweetest. And he's really into Harry Potter too, so that's a bonus"

I hum in agreement. Yooyeon's world seems so simple - vibrant, full of energy. Meanwhile, mine feels like the polar opposite. I'm always overthinking, second-guessing.

"Hey" Yooyeon nudges me with her elbow. "You are being all broody again. Stop it. We are going to have fun"

"Yeah, okay" I say, offering her a small smile.

I breath in the autumn air, hoping that mayb, I can stop cllinging onto a loose thread.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The club is a short walk off campus, tucked into a narrow street line with food trucks and cafés that come alive at night. As me and Yooyeon approach, the distant music grows louder, the rhythmic bass reverberating beneath our feet.

A small line of people snaked out of the entrance, marked by a neon sign displaying its name "The Tavern". The building itself is unassuming, with dark brick walls and small windows dimly lit from the inside.

When we step in, the place opens into a large space with low lighting. The bar run along one side while the rest of the room is a dance floor, dotted with tables around the edge. The air is buzzing with music and energy - people pressed close together, shouting whatever on their mind over the DJ's beat. It's an enitrely different world from the quiet, orderly campus.

"There he is!" Yooyeon yells over the music, wavibg wildly at someone near the bar. I follow her gaze and find a guy leaning against the counter, already grinning like a madman. Yeonjun. I recognize him from the first (and the only) time Yooyeon introduced me. He seems to reflect Yooyeon's restless vigour - a match made in heaven (or Hogwarts, whatever).

"Yeonjun. You remember Xinyu, right?" she says, taking her place next to him. He offers me a smile, not too over the top, but friendly enough. "The one who's always drowning in books?"

I give him an awkward wave. "Hey"

"Nice to meet you again" He says, his voice smooth. "Yooyeon's always talking about you"

"Only good things, I hope"

He laughs. "All good. Don't worry"

Yooyeon reaches for Yeonjun's half-finished shot of whiskey on the counter but get stopped by a firm grip on her wrist.

"Eh eh eh. You are ordering your own drink, miss"

Yooyeon pouts at Yeonjun's remark. "You don't even want to share a drink with your girlfriend?"

"You see. The reason it's called a 'shot' is that it's meant to be savoured by a single individual" Yeonjun's voice has gone unsettlingly serious.

"And they say Xinyu's the smart one" Yooyeon says, punching his arm.

"And they say men are the agressors" Yeonjun retorts. "How do you even deal with this witch, Xinyu?"

Before I can think of anything to say, Yooyeon grabs his arm. "Before I cast a casual Crucio on your sorry ass, we should get to the dance floor"

Yeonjun didn't argue with that. The banter is just their way of communicating. "Xinyu, you should come too" he invites.

"Uh.....no. I'm good. You two go ahead"

"Are you sure?" Yooyeon asks, despite knowing nothing can budge me. "It wil be fun, I promise"

I shake my head, smiling. "I will pass. I think I will just....get a drink"

Yooyeon is silent for a moment, then she's off, dragging Yeonjun into the sea of bodies. I watch them disappear, Yooyeon's laughter echoing back, carefree and loud, like she's exactly where she belongs.

Me, though? Not so much. So, I head to the bar,sliding onto one of the stools and order a Coke. There's no need for anything stronger. I can barely tolerate anything that have the slightest bit of alcohol and that's speaking from experience. The bartender barely looks at me as he hands it over, already moving on to his next order.

I take a sip and glance around. The place is packed, bodies moving in rhythm, couples tangled up in each other and some loners who are just swaying, lost in the music. It's loud, chaotic and I feel totally out of place. It's not that I don't want to have fun - I just don't know how to in place like this. Maybe my definition of 'fun' is different from everyone here.

I lean back against the bar and take another sip. The girls here are all glitter and glamour - tight dresses, high heels and bold colors, shimmering under the disco light. Like the night is made for them.

And then there's me in my oversized sweater and faded jeans. My white sneakers seems an imposter to their sleek heels. I have been so eager to get out of my comfort zone for once that I forget to do the necessary preparations.

I search for Yooyeon's familiar face in the crowd, but she's lost in the restless horde, probably twirling around with Yeonjun. I'm happy for her but all I feel is...detached. It's pathetic. I know. I'm too old not to know my constant fear of being the outsider, of being denied.

I'm halfway through my coke when I feel someone slide into the seat next to me, the barstool creaking under the weight. I didn't look up, hoping that it's just another stranger who comes to mind their own business. But then, he clears his throat, loud enugh for me not to ignore.

"Hey" a voice rings out, smooth but with a cocky edge.

I glanced over and there he is - perfect hair, gleaming jacket and a gold chain around hid neck. I might not be the best at socializing but I recognize the type immediately - the kind that's used to getting everything he wants. I can see it from his look, like he spends too much time in front of the mirror. He gives me a lazy smile, the one that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Come here often?" He ask, leaning a bit too close. His cologne is strong and mixed with the sour stench of his breath, it's impossible not to flinch

"No" I say flatly, taking a sip of my coke.

"That's a shame. You should. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be sitting alone"

I bristle at that, the compliment feeling more like an insult. "I'm not really into clubs" I reply, my lazy tone desperately showing my lack of interest.

He either doesn't know or care. Instead, he leans closer, his elbow casually resting on the bar next to me. "You just haven't found the right sort of people. I could show you a good time, you know"

I swallow a sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm fine, thanks"

But he only smiles wider, as if my rejection is part of a game he's used to playing. "You sure? Cuz I don't see anyone with you here. How about I buy you another drink? Something better than coke"

"No, really. I'm good" I say, more firmly this time, hoping he will get the message. But the bastard won't take his eyes off me.

"You are playing hard to get, huh?" He tilts his head. "You wouldn't believe how many girls like you I have seen. Acting all tough, only to end up in my bed at the end"

That did the job for me. I straighten up in my seat. "Can you just leave me alone?"

"Oh, come one. I'm just-"

"Fuck off, Taeil"

A voice cuts through the tension and I instinctively turn my head toward the source. Sohyun stands a few feet away, arms folded. Her shirt has been tucked into her dark jeans, casual but sharp. Her eyes narrow onto the guy who is now known as Taeil, as if she's used to seeing the scene plays out.

Taeil straighten up, his smile wavering. "Relax. We are just talking"

"No, you are not" Sohyun steps closer, gaze hard and unblinking. "Here's what's gonna happen. You are going to walk away and leave her alone.

Taeil's smirk returns but it's not so sure as before. "And what exactly are you going to do if I don't?"

Sohyun's lips curve into a smile, one colder than any I have seen from her. She pulls out her phone, holding it up for him to see. "Let's see. I don't think your parents will be so happy to see their son acting like a druggie. Plus, it wouldn't be good for either you or your parents if the video end up in the wrong hands"

All the color drain out if Taeil's face, leaving him gaping. "You are blaffing" He protests, though the panic is clear as day in his voice.

"You know I'm not" Sohyun smiles like a predator who has cornered its prey. "So, fuck off"

For a moment, there's silence, the music filling in the temporary gap. Taeil shifts on his feet, his confidence all gone and finally, he lets out a sharp breath. "Fine. Whatever" His eyes flash with fury. "But this isn't over yet"

Sohyun gives him a mock wave, wriggling her fingers as he strides out of the club.

I exhale, realizing I have been holding my breath. I look over at Sohyun, who's still standing there with her phne. A neutral look has returned to her face. Like the Sohyun just a moment ago was a totally different person.

"You ok?" She asks, sliding her phone back into her pocket.

"I - yeah. Thanks" I reply, still a little stunned.

She shrugs, giving me a small smile, genuine this time. "That guy's a creep"

I nod, processing everything that has happend in the last few minutes. Sohyun, the psychologist. Sohyun, the saviour. What isn't she?

She pulls up the stool next to mine, the one Taeil has occupied just a moment ago and settles in. I shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of her presence, of how close she is. The bar light cast little shadows on her face, illluminating the little details on her face I haven't noticed before. The tiny mole on her nose catches the light first, then the one under her left eye. They are so small, barely there but they stand out now that I'm seeing her up close.

"First time here?" She asks. How she knows, I have no idea. Maybe it's my my clothes that give it away.

"Yeah" I admits, a little sheepishly. "It's not really my kind of place"

Sohyun raises an eyebrow, amused but not surprised. "Yeah, I figured. You don't exactly look like you are having the time of your life"

I let out a small laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

She smirks, her eyes flickering over to my outfit. "Just a little"

I glance down, fidgeting with the edge of my sweater, suddenly even more aware of my appearance. "It's not really.....I don't usually go to places like this"

"So, not a party person?" Sohyun's voice is more curious than judegemental.

"Not really" I admit. "I'm more of a...stay-in and read type"

Her smile grows and for a moment, the chaotic sounds of the club faded as if we are alone. "Well, you are here now. So might as well try to enjoy it"

She's so easygoing, so at ease with herself it makes me want to throw caution to the wind too. But then, I remembered that morning in the dining hall and my stomach twists. The memory is still nagging at the back of my mind. I bite my lower lip, debating whether or not I should bring up the subject.

Sohyun takes a sip from my nearly empty can of coke and before I can stop myself, the words spill out. "I saw you the other morning. At the dining hall"

Her eyebrows knit together in curiousity. "Oh?"

"I smiled at you" I say. "But you didn't see me"

Or act like you don't, I thought.

Her eyes widen for a moment before she speaks."Wait, really? Xinyu, I'm sorry. I didn't see you"

I blink. "You didn't?"

She shakes her head. "I swear. If I'd seen you, I would have smiled back. I promise. I guess I was just in my own head then. I'm sorry"

Her words are soft, delicate and sincere. It unravels the knot in my stomach I have pretended to be non-existent. Still, she could be lying but I decide to trust her,realizing how much I care about what she thinks of me.

I galnce away, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly. "It's okay" I mumble, sipping from the empty can of coke. "I just thought....maybe I'd misread things"

Sohyun gives me a small, warm smile. "You didn't misread anything. I'm sorry if you feel like that"

She's apologizing too much now it's starting to get uncomfortable. So I dismiss it with a nod.

Sohyun shifts in her seat, her eyes flickering down to my sweater, which have bunched up awkwardly from the way I have been sitting. Before I can fix it myself, she reaches over. Her finges gently tug at the hem of my sweater, smoothing it down without a second thought.

"There" she says, her hand lingering a moment longer more before she pulls it back.

I'm still processing the gesture when almost absentmindedly, she reaches out and brush a stray strand of my hair out of my eyes. Her fingertips skim the side of my face and for a moment, time slows down - just enough for me to notice the way her eyes soften.

"There you go" she says, leaning back. "Now you are perfectly suited for the night life"

We both smile at that and for a heartbeat, I swear I can feel something shift between us. Something I can't quite name. Something that might as well be a misinterpreted signal.

The air settles into a quiet lull, the ghost of her fingers still tingling on my skin. The warmth of the moment hangs awkwardly between us and for a moment, all I can do is sit there, actuely aware of the silent between us.

"So..." I clear my throat. "Do you come here alone too?"

The corner of her mouth quriks up like she finds my question amusing. "Alone?" she repeats. "No. Not really. I'm here with my friends most of the time"

I nod. "So, are they here tonight?"

She glances towards the dance floor. "Yeah. They are somewhere out there" she says with a small laugh. "I kinda slipped away for a bit. Needed a break"

A break. From what, though? The noise? The people? The club?

I hesistate for a second. "Not really your scene either?"

She gives me a sideway glance. "It's fun but...sometimes, I don't know. It can geta little old. Same people, same music"

"Yeah" I agree. "I get that"

She taps her fingers against the bar, thoughtful for a moment. "What about you? Do you come here yourself or did Yooyeon drag you here?"

My eyes widen. "You know Yooyeon?"

Sohyun chuckles softly. "We are friends on instagram. She followed me first, I think? She seems fun"

I can't help but laugh at that. "Yeah. She's definitely fun"

Sohyun tilts her head, as if searching for Yooyeon in the crowd. "She told me she's your roommate when I mentioned I see you in one of her stories. She's been hyping you up"

"She -what?" I stare at her, feeling the panic rising in my chest. "Hyping me up?"

Sohyun greans, leaning in just close enough for me to catch a faint scent of her perfume. "Yeah. She says you are a lot cooler than you let on"

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. "That's Yooyeon....being Yooyeon"

"Well, she's not wrong" Sohyun adds, her eyes catching mine for a split second before she goes back to staring at the dance floor.

The silence settles in again, like an early intermission. Sohyun's eyes flicker back to me and I try to ignore the way she's watching me like she's considering something. I sip at the can of Coke that has been emptied long since.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" She asks so casually, like it's something she asks anyone alone in a night like this.

"What?" I ask, unsure if I've heard it right over the loud music.

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "It's too loud. And hot. Let's do something fun"

I hesistate, unknowingly squeezing the coke can flat. "Like what?"

Sohyun gives me a small smile, laced with certainity and mischeif. "Trust me. You will like it"

There's something in her voice that disarms me. Perhaps it's because this night has already been so surreal, with Yooyeon dragging me here, the drinks, the noise and then Taeil's annoying persistence. And now, Sohyun, who had seemingly ignored me is suddenly offering to whisk me away. It feels like too much, and yet, somehow, not enough.

I find myself nodding faster than my brain can catch up. "Okay"

Sohyun stands, sliding a couple bills on the counter before I can protest. She doesn't say anything, just gestures towards the door, and I follow her out of the club.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The air outside is sharp and cold and for once I'm grateful for my out of place sweater. Sohyun, however, doesn't seem to be fazed. If not, she seems to be enjoying it.

The music fades into the distant as we walk in silence, winding through the quieter streets near the campus. I don't ask where we are going and she doesn't offer an explanation. Instead, we fall into step beside each other, our shoulders brushing ocassionally. My pulse is still racing, though I don't know if it's from the club or from the cold.

Sohyun's pace is unhurried, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans and I keep my arms wrapped around myself, pulling my sweater tight. After a while, we reach one of the taller campus buildings, its ivy covered walls bathed in the moonlight. During the day, these buildings always looks heavy, weighted down by unknown legacies. But under the silvery gloom of night, it has all been replaced by a strange sort of calm.

"Come" Sohyun gestures towards the side door as she leads me in. The hallway is dim, lit only by the low, humming lights overhead. She doesn't say a word as she climbs up the stairs, up and up until we reach the top floor. I'm breathless by the time we come to a stop in front of an old, rusted door, with a faded sign that reads Roof Access: Authorized Personnel Only.

Sohyun gives me a quick wink as she pushed open the door with a soft creak. "Not like anyone ever come here" She mutters to herself as she steps out into the night.

I follow her onto the roof, and for a moment, I'm stunned. The sky stretches out above us, a blanket of stars scattered across the black canvas of night. The city lights flicker below and I can still hear the distant sound of traffic but for the most part, it's quiet. Like the rooftop itself is another world within this world. The wind tugs at my sweater and I pull it even tighter around me, bracing against the sudden rush of cold.

Sohyun is already sitting at the edge of the roof, her legs dangling over the side, her gaze fixed on the stars. She pats the spot next to her and I sit, careful to keep a distance between us.

I tilt my head up, admiring the stars, feeling the enormity of the night settling down on me. "You come here often?"

"Yeah" Sohyun says, her voice soft. "Whenever I need to think. Or when I just need a breather"

I nod, unsure what to say. This isn't what I expected when she said something fun. But in a way, it's better.

We sit in silent for a moment, the only sounds the wind and the distant hum of the city below. This calm, it's peaceful and stirring at the same time. As if there's a deeper meaning to it that I can't quite grasp.

"It's funny" she says. "Back in the country, I used to lie out in the fields and just....watch the stars. Sometimes, I would stare at them for hours. It never fails to soothe me"

I watch the way her eyes trace the sky as if she's searching for something. To be honest, I have expected someone like her to be from a big city. An image of her anywhere else is unimaginable.

"Must've been nice" I murmur. "Being able to see them so clearly"

She nods. "Yeah. It's not the same here. The city kinda takes over. Light pollution and all"

I can hear the nostalgia in her voice and for a moment, I imagine her as a little girl lying under that wide country sky, her face lit by starlight. There's something tender about it, something that makes me want to reach for a fragment of her from a different time.

After a pause, I point up at the sky. "Well, we've got stars here too. Not as bright, but they are still there"

Sohyun tilts her head, following where I'm pointing and I can't help but smile a little. "Okay, bear with my nerdiness for a second"

She chuckles. "Go for it"

I lift my hand, tracing an invisible line through the air. "That's Orion. See the three stars right there, in a row? That's his belt"

Sohyun squints, trying to follow. "Oh, I think I see it"

"Orion was a hunter" my voice dropping slightly as I tell the story. "A really good one too. Some says he fell in love with the goddess Artemis but her brother, Apollo, wasn't too happy about it so he tricked Artemis into killing Orion" I pause. "She realized her mistake too late and heartbroken, she placed him among the stars so she can always see him"

The story hangs in the air when I finish. I glance at Sohyun, her face bathed in a soft glow. She's quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

"That's kind of sad" she says quietly.

"Yeah" I whisper. "It is"

I shift slightly, turning to face her and she does the same. Our eyes meet and for a moment, the world stills. I notice the way her hair flatters with the breeze, the city lights reflected in her eyes and the faint smile tug at her lips.

"You are really something, you know that?" she says, her voice low. "Is this your revenge for my espresso lecture?"

I blink, then smiles, feeling the tension melt away. "Maybe" I say, my voice almost teasing. "But instead of coffee, I use tragic mythological hunters"

Sohyun tilts her head, her smile widening. "Touché. You really know how to open-up someone"

"It's a natural talent" I shrug, although my sarcastic tone gives away the bluff.

"So, this is how you get back at people?" She continues, her voice still teasing. "By making them feel guilty for their ignorance about constellations"

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Please, you are not the first person to endure my mythology rants. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't longer"

"And I thought my espresso thesis was bad enough"

It's like we are back in the café except that now, I'm the one doing most of the talking. But we are still the same two people with their own crazy obsessions.

Then in the lightest of gestures, Sohyun reaches out. Her fingers find the sleeve of my sweater, gently tugging at the cuff, as though fixing it, like she did earlier. She looks at me, eyes warm and amused.

"Revenge or not" she says, letting her hand fall back to her side. "I think I like your stories"

I swallow, trying not to lose my footing in the closeness of the moment. "Well" I managed to say, my voice uneven. "Next time, I will make sure to pick a happier story"

Sohyun chuckles, leaning back, although her eyes never leave me. "I will hold you to that"

The air around us suddenly become charged with something unspoken. There's a quiet, almost reverent pause in the conversation as if neither of us wants to break whatever delicate thread is holding this moment together.

Sohyun shifts slightly, inching just the slightest to my side. The stars seem to burn brighter, and I find myself leaning into the silence, into the space between us that feels both heavy and light at the same time.

"Do you ever feel like....." Sohyun starts, her voice quiet, like she's speaking into the night as much as to me. "Like everything around you is waiting for something to happen?"

I blink, her words sinking into the stillness. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her gaze flickers back to the stars. "Like....right now, for instance" Her eyes meet mine again, and there's something in her expression, like she's trying to find the right words. "It's like we are on the edge of something"

Her words send a shiver through me, not from the cold but the hidden meaning underneath. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but it's one I've been pushing aside ever since we met. The strange pull towards her, a quiet fascination that has grown into something else entirely, something that's so wrong and so right at once.

I glance at her and find myself staring at the mole under her left eye, like I'm seeing her for the first time.

"I know what you mean" I finally say, my voice almost too quiet like I'm afraid to break this fragile peace between us. My hands tighten around the railing and I glance down for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. "It's like.....something have changed"

She moves an inch more closer, the space between us nearly non-existent now. I wonder if she can hear my heartbeat now. My breath catch in my throat as she leans in, enough to cover the remaining space distancing us.

"You are right" she says softly. "Something has changed"

It's so quiet, her voice almost swallowed by the night. MY gaze flickers to her lips for a second - a brief unintentional moment that I quickly pull back from. But I wasn't quick enough.

Sohyun notices. I can see it in her way her expression shifts. And she knows that I know that she knows. Her hand, resting casually on the railing, moves slightly, her fingers brushing against mine in the lightest of touches. It's barely a graze but it's enough to send electricity tingling through my nerves.

The moment stretches, suspended between us, as if we're waiting for something to happen or maybe just waiting for one of us to make a move. The tension is palpable now, not uncomfortable, but thick, charged with possibility.

I can't tell who moves first, or if we even move at all. It's like an invisible force has suddenly drawn us together. Her face is so close now, I can see the way my breath mingles with hers in the cool night air.

Then slowly - so slowly it feels like the world is holding its breath - Sohyun lifts her hand. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against my sweater, smoothing a wrinkle near my shoulder like she did the last two times. But this time, it's different. There's an unspoken intentionality to it that makes my breath quickens.

Her hand lingers, tracing the fabric for a moment longer than necessary. And then, without breaking eye contact, she lifts her other hand, gently tucking a strand of stray hair way from my face and tucking it behind my ear. The tender touch send a warmth through me.

Suddenly, everything feels sharper, more vivid - the sound of the wind, the soft glow of the city lights, the way her fingers linger near my cheek, as if she's waiting for my permission to go further.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, not even sure what I'm trying to say, but needing to say something, anything, to break the tension between us.

But she doesn't move. She just watches me, her eyes searching mine, her hand still resting gently on my cheek. "Is this okay?" she asks as if it's a secret we only know.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak without stuttering, unable to think of anything but the way her breath feels against my skin.

And then so so slowly, it feels like time has stopped, she leans in.

Her lips brush against mine in the lightest of touches, barely a kiss at all, more like a promise, like she's testing the waters, waiting for me to pull away, to tell her to stop.

But I don't. I won't.

Because in that moment, everything have ceased to exist - the city, the stars, the quiet night around us. All that's left is the warmth of her lips, the way they press against mine, gentle but certain.

I kiss her back, just as softly, just as tentatively. And for a moment, it feels like my life has reached its epitome.

Sohyun's hand, resting near my cheek, slides down to cup my jaw, her fingers warm against my skin. She tilts her head slightly, pressing her lips more firmly against mine, and I feel a soft sigh escape me before I could stop it.

My hands, awkward at first, find their way to her waist. I hold her there, not too tight, but enough to feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric. She responds by pulling me closer, her fingers slipping into my hair, tugging me gently, deepening the kiss.

Her hands move from my jaw, sliding down my neck, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin there. My heart is pounding louder than the wind around us, around the city below. The kiss becomes more insistent, more desperate, as if we are trying to say something through it, something words can't describe.

Sohyun's lips parts with mine and for a moment, I think she's finally pulling away. But instead, she moves closer, her breath ghosting against my jawline. A soft shiver runs through me when I feel the first press of her lips against my neck, light and teasing.

Her mouth moves slowly, gently exploring, like she's savoring the taste of my skin. Her lips trail down the side of my neck, and when she presses a firmer kiss jut below my ear, I can't stop the quiet gasp that betrays my lips.

Sohyun hears it. Of course, she does. And I feel her smile against my skin.

"You are so sensitive here, Xinyu" she whipsers before her lips continue their path lower, her hands finding the back of my neck.

When she presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of my neck, her tongue barley flicking against my skin, I feel my whole body tense with the intensity of it. My hands tighten around her waist, pulling her even closer, yearning for more.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice and her response is to kiss me harder, her lips hot against the sensitive skin of my neck.

The world won't stop spinning, I reduced to nothing but the sensation of her mouth, the warmth of her body against mine and the quiet, breathless sounds that fill the space between us. It's overwhelming and yet, I can't imagine it stopping anytime soon.

When it finally does, I can still feel the ghost of her lips lingering on my skin. I feel her breath, close to my neck for a second longer before she pulls back. The cool night air rushes in where her lips had been, but the heat she left behind stays, radiating beneath my skin.

I open my eyes, barely realizing I have closed them and glance at her. Sohyun doesn't say a word. She just leans in, her dark locks scattering as she rests her head on my shoulder. Her gaze is fixed on the stars, unblinking as if she's trying to imprint them to memory.

But then, without looking away, she lets out a quiet breath and says, so softly I almost miss it.

"Fucking Apollo"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[lil-gae-disaster]

This takes place before they get together btw! :3

Also inspiration for this was the message I put in the discord chat yesterday evening because those gay guys are eating my brain

[ @hamalicious-soup @papers-pamphlet @paradox-complex @imobsessedwiththeatre @schnitzelsemmerl @cacaobeans @doodle-bug-nightmares @almaprincess66 @potatosneevees ]

"Truly, Sir, I do not see the necessity of such services when I am well able to do such on my own." Such words were uttered with a laugh by none other than Jonathan Smith, who had the- ill?- fortune of sharing a tent with one peculiar Frederick Kenneth.

The reason for such protests was quite simple; Frederick had insisted on tying his tentmates cravat ever since he had done so once during their shared winter and Jonathans fingers had been too stiff by the cold to do such mundane task for himself. The blond man- of schottish heritage if he had guessed the accents origin right- had offered his services when he had seen the Englishman struggle.

Not only had Frederick been aiding Jonathan with his quite long hair, now he had been insisting on tying the mans cravat for months now, as it was late spring and nearing summer, he had no such necessity for such generous services. And yet, his protests were not genuine.

Such acts made the blue eyed man look at him, genuinely look at him, and Jonathan found he thrived under such given attention.

"Why, I do enjoy such tasks. They are of repetitive nature, much unlike a lot of things in life." Frederick begun to explain. "Such motions are calming, unlike life itself. I find enjoyment in them." He continued while his hands were expertedly repeating such motions, which he had yet to do on himself.

Thus, leaving part of his lightly freckled neck revealed.

Jonathan found fascination in the man before him, especially in the pattern that decorate his cheeks and nose, and now apparently also his neck, but by far lighter than the clear spots of stars on this mans handsome face.

"Much like blacksmithing, I suppose. The motion with the tools are repeated ones. And yet, they bring different results." Jonathan added as Frederick was pulling at the cravat to make it appear as orderly and proper as possible.

Frederick nodded in agreement, but did not add anything further on the topic of blacksmithing, instead opting to speak of his own profession. "You are right, but I had thought more of sewing. The motions are repeated, I cannot switch to another kind of stitch halfway through sewing two pieces of fabric together, and result in similar and yet different works." He said while he was loosening the cravat where it was too tight for Jonathan without the latter having to tell him.

This was what Jonathan appreciated about his tentmate; the slow mornings and the small acts of kindness that have proven to be just as pleasant for Frederick as they are for Jonathan. And such mundane discussions of life and their professions, as if they are two young men, yet unexperienced of life, talking greatly of how they would spend their lives doing what they enjoyed.

It was bizarre for him. Not even a decade ago, he was trapped under his father and fiancé, but now he is here, free, with a profession his family would have never approved of, and in the presence of another man doing tasks that might belong to a housewife. But Jonathan found himself opposing little to none of this arrangement.

Frederick seems to be satisfied with Jonathans cravat now and has taken to straighten his coat, his deep blue eyes never leaving the other man, his lip between his teeth in concentration. "Sir, I would like to ask of you to cease such abuse of your lips for we are provided with enough food for you to not need to eat them." Jonathan asked his tentmate in good humor and genuine concern. Said man let loose of his lip, which is already quite rough to look at, but the Englishman can tell the other mans teeth have not ceased to bite.

Frederick has finished nitpicking everything about Jonathans attire, accompanied with mutters of what he should seek to repair with his own thread and needle he took with him when he had joined, and looked Jonathan in the eyes with his intense gaze.

Oh lord how had Jonathan just wanted to reach to cradle this mans face, to hold all the intense emotions he may portray in his hands and to trace the star-filled nightsky this man was bearing on his face.

He wanted to run his fingers through this mans near golden mess of curls and hair. He wanted to tell him how much he meant to Jonathan and how much he would loathe should Frederick perish in battle or fall victim to the harsh winters.

He wished to make Frederick understand just how dearly he is regarded by many, but mostly he wished to tell Frederick how he felt, he wanted to pour his heart out while gazing into the intense and endless blue that seemed to be this mans eyes. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs just how dearly he regards Frederick, how much this mans existence has kept him afloat when should he be sinking instead.

Frederick is the embodiment of sunshine, and Jonathan is the plants that need such to survive.

Jonathan does not know for how long he was lost in the other mans eternal blue, but he gets thrown out of the daze he finds himself in by Frederick breaking the eye contact, excused with a mutter of "I should move to get ready."

Jonathan nods in agreement, but he stays put. He feels he would leave a part of himself behind in this tent should he leave without his friend. This seems to not bother Frederick, for he is too busy searching his coat and cravat.

Once he had found such- his coat had been hiding under their shared cot and his cravat had made itself a home under Fredericks pillow- he hastily put them on and made a move to leave, but Jonathan halted him.

The blond man looked at him intensely with his eyes reflecting pure confusion. Jonathan said nothing, instead he moved to straighten Fredericks cravat and coat, much like the other man did with him. Perhaps it was just an action of camaraderie between them without any other intentions.

Jonathan did not achieve such a flawless result as Frederick, but yet as he stepped back to allow the man to have his space yet again, Jonathan discovered Frederick watching him wordlessly with a slight rose tint on his cheeks, unable to be hidden by the countless freckles that adored the mans face and seemed to add individuality to the universally human reaction of flattery and care.

Jonathan smiled and it took a great amount of restraint to not let any adoration he may hold for the man show in his eyes.

It seems he should not have reason to worry, since Fredericks only reaction was a darker flush of his cheeks and a hurried exit out of the tent.

Jonathan sighed. What was this game of feelings and friendships they were playing?

The Englishman did not ponder on such further and instead opted to follow his tentmate in a hurry to greet the new day they should be thankful for getting to experience, since death seems inevitable in such times where war is looming over them all, threatening to take their life every moment they spend on the battlefield.

[screamingcrows]

I am sadly not immune to all the talk of Veritas Ratio in a modern university setting... (Manu - I hope I can call you that - your posts are so sweet) pair that with the autumn mood and you get this;

tags: pure fluff, they're about to be dating your honor, modern university au

minors do not interact!

Veritas had been puzzled at first, while it wasn't exactly odd for you to be fidgeting with something during lectures, it was usually limited to a specific set of items: your water bottle, some form of pen (he had a spare of your preferred tucked away in his bag for the inevitable bad days where you'd had to leave your dorm in a hurry), or the keychain on your bag.

Whatever this new item to catch your attention was, your hand had practically been glued to the inside of your pocket for two weeks.

Conveniently hidden out of sight, forcing his hand.

He catches you at your usual autumn spot, at least it was last year, a fairly secluded bench sheltered from the elements by four old chestnut trees.

You jerk in surprise when he sits down next to you, and warmth blooms in his chest when you close the book in your hand and lightly smack the top of his head. Still, there's no real power behind it. Only one hand is holding the book after all.

"Your pocket," his gaze is momentarily drawn to a lone magpie rummaging through the first yellow leaves to bed the ground.

"My pocket?"

A sigh leaves his lips as you parrot his words, turning to look upon your face. Veritas thinks his heart might burst at the soft confusion etched into your features, so reminiscent of a delicately carved masterpiece and still containing so much that could never be conveyed through cold stone.

"Yes. You've been fiddling with something in your pocket for a few weeks. At first I assumed it was a loose thread, but it persisted through days regardless of your outfit," cool air caressed his cheeks as he breathed, carefully tuning his voice to your widening eyes, "naturally, I've grown curious as to the nature of that item."

Silence sweeps through the air, enough that Veritas can faintly hear the buzz of people closer to campus. What would normally be comfortable, has him shifting a bit. Too keenly aware of your downcast eyes, his hands find solace in adjusting his scarf.

It feels invasive when you pull your hand out, and he finds that perhaps this knowledge wasn't worth the price. But the words never make it from the tip of his tongue, not before you've opened your hand to reveal a single chestnut.

He blinks, the smooth brown reflecting what warm sunlight pierces the overhanging canopy.

You're already talking again, "-and I've just always grabbed one since that, it's just a silly tradition but I enjoy it and it's harmless and-"

"Would you tell me how, in detail?"

The way your shoulders slumped a little confirmed his theory, you'd been about to rile yourself up with nervous ramblings. Veritas turned towards you, leaning against the bench while you sought out words.

"The first thing you do is to gather the very first chestnut you lay eyes on," what else was there to do but oblige in the face of your expectant pause, "and then you whisper a wish to it."

Again, he obliges, wringing his nose at the faint scent of detritus that already clings to anything picked from the ground.

"Now you just, well you carry it with you, just like you carry a wish. And if the wish comes true, then you take it to a stream and throw it in after thanking it."

"And if it doesn't?"

Veritas notes with satisfaction how smooth the chestnut feels under his skin, and how pleased you look upon catching him shift it between fingers.

"Then you return it to the ground, bury it somewhere, and let it bloom when spring comes."

A charming sentiment, even if you kept waving your hands dismissively. There'd been no deeper meaning behind it, just a parent taking measures to keep little hands occupied.

It was sweet, the memories painting your eyes with colors he couldn't imagine never getting to see again. Time worked differently with you, it always did, and too soon did the evening air chill.

Several hours had passed, time that Veritas should have spent studying, had allocated in his schedule for completing at least two assignments. Yet he couldn't quite find it in himself to mourn.

"Here," he removed his scarf to bundle it around your neck, deft hands adjusting it to let you breathe, "you were shaking, maybe it's time to head inside?"

Something foreign drifted through your eyes and held him captive, leaning forward like this would make it so easy to-

Your lips were just as forgiving as your words, molding perfectly against his even in the brief moment before his mind caught up and he pulled back.

An apology was at the tip of his tongue, cheeks already heating up and mind thrown into a frenzy unrivaled by the most advanced calculations.

All thoughts of your friendship souring turned to dust when he saw you stand, throwing your chestnut as far towards the little lake nearby as you could.

Oh.

With a thundering heart, Veritas pocketed his own chestnut, unable to resist the urge to give it a little pat.

"Wait- you still have yours? Veritas what did you wish for?"

A laugh bubbled from his chest at your expression morphing from bliss to pure petulance, the sound sending flutters through his body, how rarely he could let go.

And always in your presence.

"Veritas! It's not funny, it would've been so romantic!"

He merely hummed, enjoying the fleeting heat of your skin as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, "perhaps I wished for something less fleeting."

[mysi101]

The Southern Raiders: so, demon Zuko brought out the worst in poor, innocent Katara…

What did Zuko do to deserve this accusation coming from some people among the fanbase? I rewatched The Southern Raiders the other day and spend close attention to catch up on what they could possibly mean.

So, what does Zuko do to Katara after the Gaang flees from Azula?

He looks after her and is holding an appropriate distance while asking her, calmly, why she still can’t trust him.

After her response he realizes: Oh yeah, I wronged her the most. Followed by asking how he can make it up to her and understanding what she needs, even though she is giving sarcastic answers.

He offers Katara a chance to face the killer of her mother, so she will be finally able to receive closure and begin the process of healing. This is an exact parallel of Zuko facing Ozai on The day of the black sun. He could’ve just left and join the Gaang, but instead he chose to face his father first: because he needed this.

(Furthermore, he spared Ozai, the same way he spared Zhao even back in S1; that goes against the frequently used argument that he definitely expected Katara to kill Yon Rha coming from some people.)

As I mentioned before, I paid close attention during my rewatch

At no point is Zuko pushing Katara to do anything she doesn’t want, nor does he do anything else to release her dark side.

Am I the only one picturing an incubus-like Zuko whispering in Katara’s ear, every time someone claims that?

On the opposite: He is listening to her and is offering support while facing her biggest trauma. The same goes for the actual field trip: he is nothing but supportive, doesn’t push her to do anything and is standing aside, so that Katara can receive closure under her own conditions—which she did, and she forgave Zuko because of it. Not only that, she even gives him a tight hug out of deep gratitude. Would a person act like this towards somebody who brought out the worst in them? I highly doubt it.

But then why is Katara showing a dark side, some might even say, she is OOC?

I genuinely don’t get the OOC-part... She is very in-character, and her dark side has nothing to do with Zuko. It’s Katara being presented as an actual human being with feelings. Imagine that...

Why is Aang allowed to show a dark side? I never heard anyone complain about him in those specific situations. But Katara, despite raising her voice before and showing her rage in many situations during the show, is suddenly acting OOC when it comes to The Southern Raiders.

She is about to face her trauma and to meet her mother’s killer, of course she won’t be the happiest person in the world, more nervous and angry, lashing out if someone tries to stop her. Yeah, and even going as far as to use bloodbending when finally meeting the (wrong) man.

Doesn’t mean her feelings aren’t justified, and it wasn’t Zuko who brought them up, but the situation alone.

That’s all this is

A person facing her trauma, thus showing very natural darker feelings in this situation, after suppressing them for years. Of course, it was hard for Katara, but she agreed on this trip because she knew she needed it. It was the right thing for her to do—and Zuko is the one who gave her a chance on this, nothing more, nothing less.

[laurentidal]

Sitter TV

“So the money is on the bar, and we’ll be back around midnight.”

Mr. Thompson was a nice guy. Always paid well to watch his kid when he and his wife went out. Karli never felt weird around him. Never felt like he was going to creep on her or anything. Just a genuinely nice guy. His wife was a little uppity, but otherwise also bearable. She was never outright mean, just a little bit condescending. When Karli had dyed her hair, she’d heard Mrs. Thompson ask her husband if they still wanted me to watch their daughter. He’d stood up for her, which felt nice.

“Oh and the TV is new,” he said. “It’s a smart TV and it’s got all these… I dunno… Channels? Apps? Watch whatever. You’ll probably know how to work it better than we do by the end of the night.”

Karli chuckled. She probably would.

“There’s one we added today for you,” Mrs. Thompson added. “It’s called Sitter TV. Don’t know if it’s to entertain kids or if its for the babysitters.”

“I’ll check it out, thanks.”

“In bed by nine,” he called as they closed the door.

“You got it!”

The night was uneventful for the most part. The little girl was quite shy, but Karli could get her to play. She’d put on the girl’s cat ear headband and they’d pretend to be cat princesses in a magical far away kingdom. Finally, around eight, Karli sat down and turned on Sitter TV to see what it was.

It sure looked like cartoons, though she’d never seen these before.

“You wanna watch for an hour before bed?”

She nodded.

So the two sat on the couch and watched the cartoons. An hour passed, and they were both, kind of tired. Play will do that to you, so Karli took her upstairs and laid her in bed, watching her drift off quickly. She wandered back downstairs and noticed the TV was still on. Still playing Sitter TV. She sat back down in front of it, not wanting to turn it off just yet. What had they been watching? She couldn’t remember.

She sat there on the couch, cartoon after cartoon playing. Each one was a little weirder. Maybe late at night, the programming changed. Karli was transfixed. She couldn’t wait to see what was going to be on next. Hours passed. At a certain point, she stopped even being aware of the plot of what she was watching. To her mind, they were just lights and sounds on the screen. A small trickle of drool ran down over her lip.

“Sitter TV,” a voice said from behind her. She hadn’t ever heard Mrs. Thompson enter. Even now, she didn’t turn to look at the woman. “As advertised.”

Hands came down and stroked Karli’s cheek. A finger ran up, wiping the drool as it went. The other hand dropped lower, pinching Karli’s nipple through her shirt and bra. She inhaled sharply, but never blinked. Never took her eyes from the TV.

“Listen to me, girl,” Mrs. Thompson said harshly. “You belong to me now. You are my slave.”

“I am your slave,” she heard a familiar voice say.

“I am your Mistress.”

“You are my Mistress.”

“You will obey me.”

“I will obey you.”

“Good. Now act natural for my husband. Wake, but remain enslaved.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Karli blinked. Once. Twice. Then stood smiling as Mr. Thompson entered the room carrying bags from some late night store they’d stopped at.

“I’m going to take Karli home, dear,” Mistress Thompson said sweetly.

“Okay!” her husband called from the kitchen.

“In the car.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The drive home was uneventful for the most part. Mistress Thompson was so nice. Karli licked her pussy the whole drive and at the end, she was even allowed to cum herself. Karli was so lucky to belong to her.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, consider buying me a coffee. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[sturniolo04]

Why are you being so quiet? M.S.

Husband!GirlDad!Matt x Wife!GirlMom!Reader

*really short :)

This week was the first week of school for you and matt's daughter, Lily. She was finally going into the 1st grade and to say you were emotional was an understatemnt.

"you ready for your first-day lils"

you as her from the passenger seat in your guys' black SUV, sitting in the long line to drop lily off at the school doors.

"yes"

she cheers from the back seat, kicking her little feet.

"youre going to make so many friend they are going to love you"

matt chuckles out making sweet eye contact with her in the rearview mirror as she smiles sweetly back as you guys finally pull up to the school door.

"have fun lily"

you shout as she hops out the car with her cute pink backpack on as she waves to you and matt before shutting the car door.

You two watch as your daughter scurries through the doors into the school.

"please let them be nice to her"

you whisper out as matt reaches over grabs your hands reassuring you that she would be fine and she was for the first week nothing was negatively impacting her experience in her class.

When you guys approached the second and third week of school something seemed off with your daughter. She grew quieter about sharing anything that really happens at school, which was unusual because naturally Lily is talkative which she gets naturally from you. Something was definitely off.

"hey lily bug"

matt greets her daughter as he is picking her up from school as she climbs into the car.

"hi"

she quietly whispers out which was barely audibly.

The whole ride back home was excessively quiet, it was almost like matt had to somewhat pressure his daughter to tell him about her day.

"so how was your day"

he asks he carefully gazing in the mirror to catch a glimpse of the unreadable expression on her little face.

"um it was okay"

she huffs out as she shifts her body to pull her knees into her chest resting her head on top.

"okay"

matt trails off in his response noticing the sudden body position. Matt and lily finally stopped at the stop light right before turning into your guys neighborhood where you lived. When matt heard little sobs from the backseat of the car.

'lily"

he states questioning if he is hearing things correctly, turning around in the drivers seat seeing they are still stopped at the stop light.

"whats going on princess talk to me"

he states as he begins to drive making his turn into the neighborhood as the light turned green and then eventually pulling into your guys driveway, hopping out of the car and opening the back seat door.

"hey look at me"

he softly states to his daughter as she slowly lifts her head.

"kids are mean dad"

she quivers out as she continues to let a couple of tears fall as matt carefully wipes them away across her cheek.

'what are they saying"

he questions her.

"they didn't like how talkative i am so that's why I am being so quiet"

she sighs lowering her as matt gazes at her concerned.

"babygirl you dont change for them you are perfect they way you are"

he honestly states to his daughter brushing the stray hair away from her eyes.

"okay"

she sniffles out gazing up at him with her innocent eyes.

"do you want me to beat them up"

he jokes.

"no dad i got it"

she giggles out.

"okay then i believe that you got them then"

he sighs out playfully with her as they head into the house.

Taglist

@dirtylittleheart333 @spicymuffins03 @mintsturniolo @emely9274 @wh0resstuff @stayingstromboli

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Firefly

Debut: Wario Land 4

Did you know? I can post anything I want on the internet. This is the first WME post of autumn, and here I am posting a firefly, an icon of summer magic! Hee hee! I am posting it because it is an incredibly darling firefly, even if to be honest it doesn't really resemble one at all, just a Cartoon Bug with a glowing light. But a great cartoon bug! Big ol' peepers, what could be either antennae or mandibles beneath, and feet that look like they may be wearing white gloves. Hot Dog!

I am being a bit rebellious on this post besides my seasonal antics, as well. If you asked the Super Mario Wiki (and you can imagine it as one of those tall suited object-headed fellows with the logo as the head, if you're into that) what this creature's name is, it would say "Hotaru". That's what the page calls it, after all. But that's just Japanese for Firefly! So that is what I will call it, with a disclaimer that it is an unofficial localization. And that's okay. You agree that it's okay. Thank you!

Do you call them fireflies or lightning bugs? Maybe something else? These two common names embody their Elemental Powers, which they do not actually have, but it's fun that they're two somewhat distinct elements. They should get a common name for all of the RPG elements! The larvae live and hunt in the soil, so there's a reason to give them an Earth related name, in a world where some weirdo decided that lurking in the dirt was more notable than glowing. And for Water, the larvae of some species are aquatic!

I kind of don't like any of the common names too much. I default to firefly, and it's fine enough, but... I don't know! I think I would call them glowbeetles. It sounds even more magical to me, like a creature that would exist as fantasy worldbuilding, while also being more accurate! It's a travesty that so many people don't realize these are beetles! They are! So I like "glowbeetle", even if it is a little weird to say. I like what it represents.

My manager is reminding me that I have not actually been talking about Wario Land 4 like I was supposed to. He's not paying me to talk about REAL bugs. He's SUPPOSED to be not paying me to talk about Wario Land 4! On it, boss!

For such a zany and over-the-top game, the firefly is surprisingly normal! If Wario touches the drool from a ghostly carnivorous plant's mouth, he will turn into a zombie. The way to reverse this status is by coming into contact with bright light. So a Firefly will appear to help! No fire. No lightning. Just good ol' light, like in real life. Its glow will make Wario no longer dead, so his funeral will have to be postponed until further notice. Perhaps it's a metaphor for how the wonders of nature make one happy to be alive! Whatever the case, this is just a regular cartoon bug who shows up, does its natural behavior, SAVES the player through its natural behavior, and leaves. That's incredible!

[olderthannetfic]

This NaNoWriMo stuff with AI is largely unsurprising to me. I don't know how many people have gone beyond reading the viral clipped out bit about classism and ableism, but there was a follow up statement on that, in which they claim to take a very neutral stance. That their initial intent was apparently trying to curtail harassment of those who are using AI and they at least apologized for their confusing and unthoughtful wording of their original statement. Which seems legitimate enough to me. I'm sure they are sorry, considering the swift and unforgiving backlash they received. What I find kind of bizarre about this whole thing is, like, if you are running an event surrounding writing and making guidelines for what is and isn't okay in general-- then wouldn't it be a perfectly reasonable addition, to set out some level of encouraged practices for how one should or shouldn't use AI for during said event. Guidelines that are encouraged, that follow what everyone believes to be the spirit of the event (sitting down and actually writing a little every day for a month) would seem like a perfectly reasonable thing to do, to me. Like, am I off base here? With the rise in AI this seems like the natural progression. Even if only in spirit, not allowing generated works specifically seems like it would be a completely understandable guideline that keeps the event fair to those trying to do it the way it's meant to be done. And if you wanted to be neutral about it, it could be presented alongside a more lax policy around using AI to say, generate a plot bunny when experiencing writers block or create names for places/characters. People have been using tools like that for ages so there's precedent to allow "thoughtful" use of AI for these purposes. Anything at all, even if it can't be completely enforced, seems like it would have been better. The random endorsement of AI for people in certain circumstances from their follow up statement, and how it can be life changing, if one were to take their meaning in the most charitable way possible, does not feel like it's on topic here. Like, all this effort to be "neutral" on their part is not really coming across that way it's all just so damn clumsy. I try to always assume positive intent, not attributing to maliciousness (such as capital gain at the expense of creatives, which is one of the major problems with AI generated work) what can be better explained by ignorance, but even taking all that they've said in such a fashion, it largely feels like they didn't want people arguing about AI but also didn't want to have to make rules around AI that they would then have to, even if only in spirit, enforce. I can sort of understand that, considering it would be (most likely) impossible for them to differentiate between generated work and stuff that was written by a person. But again. They could have just said that it wouldn't be possible for them to police AI usage, blah blah blah, honor system (which again is already part of how NaNo works-- an honor system) but that targeted harassment campaigns of individuals for any reason would not be allowed within these spaces, up to and including suspected use of AI. Like there were so many different ways this could have been approached to accomplish what their stated goal was. Without??? Accidentally taking a very strange and not well thought out direct stance on AI that they later had to halfway walk back and apologize for. I don't think NaNoWriMo ever intended the message to be "We allow AI generated works now" (unless there's something I missed) -- That's not explicitly something they said, but rather the at large and reactionary interpretation of it. Now, I just have to wonder, what the hell happened to their September update post from last week, that was apparently addressing other issues. One thing I'll say for this whole mess, is it's at least amusing to watch the absurdity of their slow motion collapse hitting the speedrun stage toward total implosion. The org has had major internal problems for years now.

--

Honestly, I think the reaction is at least as much about longstanding issues with the organization as about people's fears of AI. Poorly thought out corporate idiocy feels in-character.

[otrtbs]

Hi I hope you're doing well 🌷

I had a question. I'm totally asking out of pure curiosity, it's not a criticism or anything of the sort.

In ahb (this masterpiece of yours) Sirius's favorite painting is Degas' Dancers.

I wanted to know if you knew the background of this painting and if making it Sirius' favorite was a deliberate choice or if you had no idea at all.

Because the Ballerinas in Opera Garnier in Paris were all really young and mostly, they were poor. The dancers were often their family's hope to crawl out of misery.

The audience was full of men.

In fact, the sad flip side was that there was a whole prostitution network behind the scene. With these young girls. Men could pay for backstage access to watch ballerinas change and sometimes rape them.

So Degas was a big customer.

That's how he painted the dancers and most of his works.

That's again how he sculpted the ballerina, her tutu was added meaning the 14 year old girl was posing nude.

Degas is also suspected of being Jack the Ripper, there are a certain number of credible leads and potential evidences.

That's why I was wondering if you knew.

Since there is this whole chapter where they insult Picasso (as they should) I found it strange that Degas being a known major p*do did not receive the same treatment.

Ps: I'm french, I don't know if I made any mistakes writing this, if I have please excuse me I tried my best 🙏

Okay hi, hello! I am doing well and I hope you are as well! You have unlocked Art Historian Thesis Nat, so I am going to put an extremely lengthy post under the cut, I'm so sorry (this is literally my area of study,,, i fear i am incapable of being brief about this)

I do want to clarify that right off the bat, I don't necessarily think many of these art historical figures are "good people". Like none of them are the best, most moral, upstanding citizens you should model your life after (but they're also dead sooooo). But I also understand that I did take some time in my fanfiction to make my hatred for Picasso very clear, and so I can also understand the confusion in not extending that same hatred towards Degas. But there are a few reasons for that, that I'll try to explain below!

The direct historical documentation of Pablo Picasso's violence towards the women in his life is vast and damning. If you want particularly good insight into his violence and abuse, then I recommend reading Marina Picasso's (Picasso's granddaughter) memoir titled: Picasso: My Grandfather. I also recommend Françoise Gilot's (romantic partner of Picasso) books, Life with Picasso and Picasso and Matisse. It is through the memories of the people who loved Picasso and who loved him in turn, that we hear of his sadistic nature that drove his lovers to suicide and we get personal letters that he wrote to Gilot in which he says things like "Dora, for me, was always a weeping woman… And it’s important, because women are suffering machines" and "For me there are only two kinds of women: goddesses and doormats." His granddaughter has this to say about him: “He submitted [women] to his animal sexuality, tamed them, bewitched them, ingested them, and crushed them onto his canvas. After he had spent many nights extracting their essence, once they were bled dry, he would dispose of them.” And Gilot says: "I am the only one to not have been sacrificed to the sacred monster(…) and is alive to tell the tale. He was a wonderful person to be with, it was like fireworks, amazingly creative, so intelligent and seductive(…) but he was also very cruel, sadistic and ruthless with others and with himself (…) It was the greatest love of my life, but you have to protect yourself (…) The others did not, they clung to the powerful minotaur and paid a very high price."

Why this matters: The evidence for Degas being so virulently misogynistic and cruel towards women is extremely less substantial and more speculative in nature.

Degas being Jack the Ripper. Degas being Jack the Ripper started off as a tiktok theory posed in early 2024, (though you can find an article as early as 2004 written by The Guardian's art critic here) and while fun to think about and speculate, it isn't true. August and September and November of 1888 is when the Jack the Ripper crimes were committed in London and Degas was in the South of France at that time receiving medical treatment because he was in extremely poor health. (Which you can find in The Letters of Edgar Degas edited by Theodore Reff (I'm sure there's. free PDF version out there somewhere)). Also, self-admittedly speculative, but Degas didn't visit the East-End of London when he did make his excursions to London because he was classist 😭. So, it would be odd for him to know the ins and outs of the streets where the murders took place. And also he had failing eyesight starting at 36, so the odds of him being Jack the Ripper are extremely slim.

The Ballerinas Yes, while it is true that the ballerina's were often subject to horrific conditions and were prostitutes for the "wealthy" patrons of the opera house, this does not mean that Degas partook in that. in fact, most historical documentation surmises he didn't. Degas considered himself a "realist" painter rather than an impressionist painter, wishing to document "real life" in all of its ugliness, beauty and unstylized truth. Therefore his primary concern was documenting the opera house and ballet in all of the moments, not just when the girls were dancing on stage. And in many of his paintings, Degas captures the opera patronsn in his ballerina paintings as lurkers behind the stage curtains as sinister black shadows, or as men predatorily watching in nice suits (e.g. Ballet, 1876 and The Rehearsal of the Ballet Onstage (1874)). But Degas himself, was NEVER a ballerina patron, he is even quoted as saying "People call me the painter of dancing girls. It has never occurred to them that my chief interest in dancers lies in rendering movement...". (now this is not because Degas was morally outraged at what was happening to the ballerina's, but because he viewed the men abusing the girls as committing a sin against God by sleeping with prostitutes). But while Degas had access to backstage, he was never a customer. And in fact, Degas is a notorious, well-documented celibate. This is because Degas believed sleeping with women would make him lose his special painting ability. No lie. Here's a direct quote from Vincent Van Gogh in his a letter to his brother Theo about the artist: "Degas lives like a little lawyer and does not like women, for he knows that if liked them and went to bed with them, he would become intellectually diseased and would no longer be able to paint." Degas was also known to reject ballerina's advances as well (again, fearing women would take away his magic painting power).

Feelings towards women By all accounts, Degas friends describe him as being reclusive towards women to being jovial with them, but always kind to them outside of a working environment. He even developed friendships with his fellow contemporary women painters. In a working environment, Degas was obsessed with perfection, demanding ballerinas contort their bodies in painful positions, and making them hold those positions for hours at a time. By all accounts, this was not because he hated them, but was obsessed with capturing their movements, the limitations of the human body, and he demanded perfection from himself. (x x x) (i.e. his obsession for his work and drive for perfection as a painter made him demanding and harsh towards his subjects, not his pure hatred of women).

Conclusions: So by many accounts, Degas was not particularly fond of women, and had little regard for his dancers. But the claims that he must have slept with the ballerina's and been a patron/customer "because that's what all men did back then" are not backed by any evidence. only evidence to the contrary. I went in on Picasso because those that were close to him have written first-hand accounts of his monstrocity. This is not the case with Degas. So, while I didn't tear him down like I did Picasso, I wasn't lauding him as a saint either. I highly recommend reading the article called Degas's Misogyny by Norma Broude which details the ways in which modern times have run away with this idea of Degas being a sadistic woman-hater and how we've gotten to this point. Anyway, TLDR; I was aware of the dark "underside" of the Paris Ballet at the time in which Degas was painting his works. Do I think he is Jack the Ripper and a man who participated in ballerina prostitution? No, not at all. At the end of the day, I am just an art history girl, telling anyone who will listen that there is not enough documentation on Degas to take these claims as 100% truth, or put that man up there with Picasso. Peace and Love! <3

[nekohime19]

AITA for sleeping with the guy my girlfriend is cheating on me with?

Idk what happened but I just had the funniest idea ever and I just had to write it. So basically it's a reddit post style short story with Wukong's pov. It's an interactive story so the comments will be used as the answers. There will probably be a part two (maybe even a part three) but I don't think I'll write more than that.

Shadowpeach is the end goal and we don't forgive cheaters in this household.

Also sorry Spider Queen, love ya.

AITA for sleeping with the guy my girlfriend is cheating on me with?

Okay, so I'm not used to this internet madness but my successor once said it could help sometimes so here I am sharing drama.

So I (5000, He/him monkey immortal) have been dating this other person we'll call Venom (??, She/her, spider demon) for quite some time. And I've been quite happy with her. I know I'm not the most… upfront with things and I have issues (like a lot) but she liked me and we worked well together.

But then we got into more arguments when I began to train my successor (21, he/him, human???), we'll call him… Bud, just because.

The thing is, Venom got this whole world domination plan, which is kinda normal for demons. A lot of demons do that. And it never really bothered me because I was retired (for context I'm a retired hero who used to battle demons a lot). Besides, I had some kind of the same phase in my youth so I just thought it would pass when she'd realize it's kind of a stupid plan, and anyway she never did anything to achieve it.

But then I found a successor, Bud, and I began to train him to protect the city and fight demons, all that heroing stuff. Venom, of course, wasn't happy with that and we began to get into arguments. She accused me of betraying her and I just told her I was a hero from the start so she shouldn't have expected me to agree with her view and all.

Things got really bad when Venom decided to pull a end-of-the-world shit show on New Year when we agreed beforehand to go on a date that day. It felt like she was spiting me. Plus, she destroyed more than half of the city and gave Bud a really awful time so I was, understably I think, very angry with her.

We got on our biggest argument and took some time apart to cool off. But then Venom got back all sweet and said to leave that behind us, so I was very happy and just decided to forget our arguments entirely. I thought she just decided to stop her world domination thing. It wasn't weird for us to do that. Not the first time we got into an argument about heroing and usually we just get back together after a little bit and decide to move on.

But then I started to notice some weird stuff about Venom. Like, she was on her phone a lot more (when she always thought those mortal things were lame before) and she was kinda dismissive and distant. She forgot some of our dates and had some lame excuses, like taking weeks of vacation or something??? When she never did that before.

In hindsight maybe I shouldn't have done that but I'm a monkey you know, so I'm naturally curious. So I took her phone and snooped around a bit.

Turns out Venom was cheating on me with another guy (??, he/him, monkey demon) we'll call him Six. She was seeing him behind my back and all, planning date and calling him “darling”, 🤢. I saw red. Like cheating ???? I know we have our ups and downs but to the point of cheating on me? I was really hurt by this.

So, I don't know, to try to calm down I started to investigate on Six. Like what kind of guy he is? Is he better than me? I was kinda surprised to discover he's another celestial monkey, like I always thought I was the only one?? But also it kinda hurt because Venom was cheating with a cheap dark version of me.

So I got petty.

I wanted revenge. And info. I decided I was gonna confront this Six guy first and pull a Monkey Cop, sussing him out to see if he was aware of my existence and to clarify this situation. Maybe I should have just talked to Venom but, idk, I guess some part of me was dreading the confrontation with her.

So I got to Six workplace with a disguise and all (sunglasses and hoodie). He works in the local theater and, okay, he was kind of good on stage. I'm not gonna lie, he's also kinda cute. Just a little bit. So I approached him at the end of the show, praising him for the performance.

One thing led to another and we kinda took dinner together??? I learned he moved in recently and that he got in a relationship with Venom three months ago (which hurt). But he seemed to genuinely like her and had no idea he was the side piece here. Sooo, maybe I took pity on him, like the guy didn't deserve that? I offered him a bottle and we got waisted. In hindsight, a really bad idea, especially since I have a loose mouth when I'm drunk.

We had a fun night, doing stuff together. He admitted my disguise was shit (which, rude 🙄) and was excited to meet another celestial monkey. We talked about our experiences and we really bonded. Annnd, I got to ruin it and spill the beans, saying the truth about how Venom is in fact my girlfriend.

At first he didn't believe me, but then I pulled pictures and, yeah, he was understandably upset. He kinda looks hot when mad. We got even more waisted and cried and cursed Venom and ate ice cream then we got on my mountain, drank some more of my personal celestial wine collection, and watched Monkey Cop… Then I say “You're kinda cute.” and he says “You too”.... One thing led to another and, yeah, we slept together.

And so now I'm in my bed typing this with the worst headache on earth and with very obvious marks of what happened last night on me. Six is sleeping next to me and I'm questioning my life (and my sexuality???)

WHAT DO I DO????

AITA ??