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[bolgger-74]

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[strawburry01]

Northern Attitude

Summary: The team goes out to a small Montana town facing a random string of murders pointing to a new cult forming in the woods around town. Only once they get there does Hotch realize he recognizes the assistant chief for the town force- someone from his university days.

Word Count: 3k

No smut just angsty, maybe not entirely canon compliant but nothing crazy.

Authors Note: Let me know if folks want a part 2 (you may get one anyway, but my brain hasn't decided yet), or any one offs from Hotch and the characters time in uni. I have ideas...

It was another cold morning in your room. You refused to go to bed if it wasn’t comfortably cocooned in at least three blankets, but it did mean getting out of bed in the morning was particularly dreadful. You groan as you stretch your back hearing it pop as you twist. Eventually, you push yourself out of your warm pile of blankets and pillows to take a shower to wake up and start the day.

You worked as an assistant chief in your small Montana town. Things were slow for the most part. Nobody beyond the average population, except for the summers when the tourists came in for hiking and camping, but even then, it was never too much. A few rambunctious teens some nights, the occasional robbery of the convenience store downtown, a random carjacking every other month, but this had all come to a screeching halt when a random string of murders popped up over the last few weeks. Unfortunately, based on the scenes and your analysis, it seemed cult related, bringing a lot more attention, specifically from the government, to your once quaint town. 

Shuffling back to your room after your shower you throw on your average attire, black slacks, blue button up, and boots. Being a woman in a small town police force wasn’t easy, but you’d done your time. It only took a few cases before the men started realizing you meant business, and often would run the opposite direction in the office whenever they saw you walking in with a bad mood knowing you would make their life a living hell. Graduating from university with both electrical engineering and criminology made you stand out when you entered the workforce all those years ago, but the quiet side of you still yearned for silence and a work life balance, which is something you did get all the way out here. Well, at least before this all. You’d been working overtime every night into the late hours trying to figure out what you were dealing with. All you had was your bed every couple hours at night before your brain would wake you up again with a flood of new theories and ideas. You’d be happy when this was over, for all the reasons.

You jump into your truck and quickly blow onto your mug of coffee to cool it down as you head out to the latest scene. You swear out loud as you nearly spill it onto your lap as you take a turn too sharp. You crank the volume of your radio up to help wake you up and try to put you in a good mindset. You never tried to come to work in a bad mood, in fact you tried to come in on the cusp of being annoyingly positive and cautiously optimistic. You knew this line of work was easy to get sucked down into and spiral, you’d seen it before, hell you lived it before when you were fresh out of university. It’s what got you out working in a big city, or for a bigger federal office. 

You pull into the parking lot alongside the other police vehicles that had already shown up for the day. This latest murder scene was unfortunately in an empty field behind an abandoned high school. Definitely not creepy at all, you thought to yourself as you got out and eyed the several busted windows on the second floor. You grab your backpack and mug as you make your way to the tent set up with the team’s temporary office with laptops and files from the case.

“Morning boys,” you hum as you step underneath the tent, observing the open screens. You get a few ‘good mornings’ back. Some of the guys had been working since the scene was called in and you could tell. Dammit you should have brought coffee or doughnuts for them.

“Cheers boss”, one of the officers, Carter, sighs to you as he walks into the tent, clinking his coffee with yours. Carter had always been one of your favorites, he was young, wide-eyed, but still meant business. He’d grown up in the area so he knew all the folks like they were family. You let out a small smirk as you sip your coffee, starting to map out the plan for today.

You’d have to scour the entire field. And the entire school. You didn’t want a single potential lead or clue or mistake from them to be lost. The team would hate it but it needed to be done.

“Alright team find a friend and meet back here in ten minutes. You’re going to be split between the school and the field and I need all of it thoroughly searched. Heard?” you said, leaning on the table facing the team you had. They all nodded or chirped back a complaint which you laughed at, “you got ten minutes to warm up”.

You leaned back on the front of your truck as you took out a cigarette and placed it between your lips. Lighting it up you stared out into the field. Dappled with yellows and oranges, you can’t even see the ground through the wheat and piles of ancient dirt. Why here? Any other day this would be beautiful, but knowing a murder happened right here made it such a tragic scene. There’s a crackle of gravel from an incoming car behind you. Probably the chief coming in, albeit uncharacteristically early since he usually stayed in the office until things got really hairy. You sighed as you let a cloud of smoke out of your lips, staring up at the sun. Your phone buzzes against your hip and you lazily slide it out before checking it. 

It’s a text from the chief. “Federal Bureau coming in today. Play nice.”. Your stomach flips. FBI? Well shit. Also how rude of him not to text you any earlier than right now. “Who?”, you texted back. You see the cursed three dots pop up and down a few times before the text actually sends. “BAU”. You nearly drop your cigarette out of your mouth at your jaw dropping. 

As if on some otherworldly cursed cue.

“Y/n?” a terribly familiar voice says from behind you. You take a sharp inhale, before taking out your cigarette and turning your head, trying to look charming as hell.

“Hello dear Aaron,” you say with a smile on your face, seeing the man who’d been stuck in your thoughts since the day he left your side. 

It’s his eyes that never changed. They still scrunch up as he smiles at you.

“I didn’t know this was your town,” he said as he moved beside you. You look up at him, placing your cigarette back between your lips and shrugging with a smirk plastered on the side of your face. You catch his eyes quickly flickering over you, just as you look over him. He used to be skinny, studious, almost a nerd, but the man that stood in front of you now was built, stern, and serious. 

“I got told a few seconds ago that you’d be here at all. Chief keeps me on my toes,” you remarked, internally thinking about how you actually wanted to wring his neck for not telling you sooner. 

When you woke up this morning you did not- in a thousand years-  expect Aaron Hotchner to show up at your work. At your crime scene. It was a tumultuous mix of excitement, nerves, intrigue, and still a bit of anger. You hadn’t seen him in years, let alone reached out. Ever since ending on a sour note you never tried, mostly because you knew he wouldn’t respond- not out of spite but just because he was so busy and focused on work. It was admirable, but also so annoying.

“You smoke now?” he asked, snapping you out of your mental musings. He was eyeing disapprovingly the cigarette still hanging in the corner of your mouth. 

“You wear contacts now?” you retorted, raising an eyebrow. He sharply laughed and looked back to his team as they approached.

“Have for a while” he said, turning back to you.

“Haven’t known for a while” you snipped before throwing your cigarette butt onto the ground and smashing it out with your heel to free yourself to meet his team. “We’ll talk later Aaron” you said with a nod which he nodded back to, ending this conversation, knowing more pressing things existed than-

your-

university-

situationship- 

showing up again in your life. 

Aaron’s team pops up behind him and brings you back to focus. Dammit there was a murder on your watch and you could only think of this fucking man. Grow up, you swore in your head as you forced a customer service smile onto your face. 

“Team this is y/n l/n, a friend from university,” he said as he gestured to you. He couldn’t make eye contact when he called you just a friend. You noticed two of the men on the team elbowed each other, no doubt in shock their boss actually had friends outside of work at some point in his life. 

Aaron introduced you to his team and you tried to run through their names in your head as you shook their hands. You were terrible with names. Agent Reid was the twiggy one who looked perpetually deep in thought, Agent Morgan was the one with the tight black shirt who who had an air of confidence about him, Agent Jareau was the sweet blonde who acted like the unofficial mother of the group, and Rossi who was the tired old dad of the group. I’m sure Aaron loved being bossed around by him, you thought to yourself as you shook his hand. He seemed nice, but Aaron had never been one to not be the one in charge- the little control freak. 

You brought them to your tent to introduce them to your folks, trying to get everyone on the same page with daylight burning. Later than expected due to the guests everyone was ready to actually start looking through the field and school. You felt Aaron’s eyes on you as you told everyone to pair off, but you nabbed Carter before he could object. 

The search of both areas wasn’t as successful as you had hoped. The school had some ominous latin scribbled onto the walls in red, which had been determined to be blood on the scene, although it wasn’t the latest victims. Reid had somehow been able to translate the latin- you could see in an instant why they kept him around.

“So what’s the deal with you and the FBI guy?” Carter asks when you get to the smack dab middle of the field. Your neck hurts from craning over the ground, trying to not let a speck of earth go unseen. 

“What do you mean?” you ask back, not looking up as you continue scanning the ground.

“I’ve never seen you flustered,” he quips as he pauses, “you actually like-I don’t know it was just weird” he said and half heartedly shrugged as he looked back at the group that had begun to reform by the tent. 

“It’s complicated,” you said, knowing that the young adult in him would eat the drama up. Sure enough, he perked up.

“Yeah? What is it? You got an ex?” he said, nudging you.

But that was the problem. He wasn’t an ex. He wasn’t really an anything. He was a friend, sure, but friends also didn’t make out in the corners of parties as much as you two had. And friends didn’t stay up until sunrise testing each other for the upcoming exams every single finals week. And friends didn’t invite each other to spend weekends at their family vacation cabin alone. 

“No, no, no, just-” you tried to explain to no avail, not even knowing how to justify this to yourself, “okay maybe,”. Carter let out a low whistle.

“Hey if my ex showed up to work I’d be flipping the fuck out, you’re handling this really well,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. You chuckle at the kids joke.

“Sometimes it’s just nicer to see a familiar face, you’ll get it when you’re older,” you said, knowing hated when you pulled the you’ll understand when you’re older card. He rolled his eyes and groaned. 

Once the sun started setting you made your way back to the huddle that was forming of everything theorizing and laying out the evidence. Tomorrow would be busy in the office working to get everything categorized and bagged. You leaned up against your truck again, just like you did this morning, and pulled out another cigarette, flicking the lighter onto the end. You waved your team over and told them to head home for the night. You knew a lot of them had families at home, and you tried to be respectful of it all, even if you didn’t have your own. Some of the security officers watching the spot for the night stayed and mingled with the BAU team a ways away from you, and you settled your sights on the pink hue of the clouds as the sun lowered.

A familiar body moved next to you. You didn’t have to turn to know it was Aaron. You blew a cloud of smoke out the other side of your lips and stayed quiet, waiting for him to start. He had his hands jammed in his coat pockets, his shoulder grazing against yours. People used to laugh at the height difference back in university, and it had only gotten worse it seemed, or at least Aaron walked around with much more presence these days. You were leaning up against the front grate of your truck and felt Aaron slowly move his arm behind you, holding onto the grate on the other side of your hip. Feeling his arm behind you felt so familiar. 

“There’s Latin at the other scenes too,” he said, facing straight ahead into the sun.

“Shit,” you said as you slowly nodded, realizing that the scribbles would not just be nothing. There was a moment of silence before he broke it again.

“Do you hate me?” he asked, glancing down for a second, but long enough for you to meet eyes before you looked away.

“You know I could never hate you,” you said begrudgingly, knowing it was the truth. His arm got closer to your back at that and you leaned further onto it, “it’s really annoying honestly” you halfheartedly laughed. You heard him laugh under his breath. You swallowed your pride and leaned in, resting your head on the side of his torso, letting out another cloud to try and soothe your nerves. 

“It’s nice out here,” he said, looking out at the sunset still which had only gotten deeper pink and orange. 

“ ‘S quiet,” you agreed, “I don’t know how you do it in the big leagues,”. 

“You know you could’ve too,” he said, looking down. You stayed staring straight ahead.

“I’m not doing this argument again Aaron,” you said curtly, as you eyed him back. He shrugged and turned away again. 

“You know you could have that’s all,”. 

“You ever think I’m okay with it out here? You ever think I don’t need to kill myself over every case with the fate of the world hanging on it?” you said, raising your voice a little.

“I’m just saying you were one of the best and you could do a lot in the bureau,” he said back, “in the BAU,” he tested. You let out an angry air of smoke from your cigarette.

“Dammit Aaron don’t do this again,” you said, cutting him off before he can say anything else. You throw your cigarette onto the gravel and kick some rocks over the smoldering residue, “I’m happy here, can’t you just be okay with that?”. Aaron watched you and sighed and shifted in his spot, taking the second to move his hand from the car to your waist. 

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he said, and he meant it. You sighed.

“I’m not going to be able to convince you to stay huh?” you asked, trying to joke, but inside you really did mean it earnestly. His thumb rubbed your side. It had been a while since you felt like this.

“I don’t think you’re able to,” he responded, sadness tinging his voice. The two of you stood, leaning into each other watching the sun finally dip behind the hills in the distance.

A few yards away Morgan stood on the phone, peeking around a car before ducking back. Garcia was not going to believe this shit.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #bau team

[joshsindigostreak]

Blue Christmas 💙🎄

Authors notes: Hi y’all!! This spawned from a dream I had the other morning and I couldn’t get it out of my head. My first official Rom-Com, and friends to lovers! Shout out to @gretasmokerising and @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine to hearing me out with this idea and yelling at me to write it! Enjoy!

Word Count: 6813

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, and SMUT at the end! MINORS DNI, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap y’all’s willies), alcohol use, agonizing mutual pining? I think that’s it.

It had been 4 weeks, 2 days, and 7 hours since Josh Kiszka had last spoken to you. The most he had ignored you since the day you met over 2 years ago. His cubicle was stationed next to yours, and you could always look to your right to see him typing away at his computer, eyes trained at the screen and never once glancing over at you. He would arrive in the mornings silently, and clock out at 5 without a word. But it was the lunch hours that hurt the most. Ever since you had started this job, he was always your lunch buddy. He showed you where all the good vending machines were, and how to get down to the courtyard on the bottom floor where most of the office population ate their lunches. You hadn’t seen him down in that courtyard since…the incident…and you sat at your usual table most days hoping you’d see him come through the double doors, lunch in hand and a smile on his face. But in the weeks since, he had either eaten elsewhere or stayed in his cubicle working. A few times you tried to stay behind as well, hoping the silence from being the ones in your general vicinity on your floor would coax him into conversation, but it didn’t work. 

But what was this “incident”? What was the catalyst to make him so cold to you all of a sudden? As you twirled your mouse over your screen pretending to be busy, your thoughts drifted back to the day everything changed. 

Josh had a usual lunch table. It was in the courtyard, but in the back corner where he could have the best privacy. This back section used to be the smoking section before smoking was banned per company policy, but they left all of the plants and hedges in place that separated it from the rest of the courtyard. His lunch hour was sacred. It was the part of his day that he could be by himself and not have to talk to anyone if he didn’t want to. Not a lot of people sat back there, which was another blessing. But he didn’t mind sharing it with you. He jumped at the chance to show it to you on your first day. You made a comment about how it was very “Rainforest Cafe” that endeared you to him even more. Ever since, it has been the two of you back there, hidden amongst the hedges. 

That day wasn’t much different from any other, a run-of-the-mill Tuesday in the middle of November. For that time of the year, it was unusually warm, so you felt that it was imperative to take advantage of it and sit outside when you still could. You made your way down to your table, walking past various coworkers chattering away. You could smell the Caesar salad through the container in your hand and you couldn’t wait to dive into it. Finally you made it to your table in the back corner, with your lunch buddy sitting with his back to you as he typed away at his laptop. He was a true workaholic, but his efforts never went unnoticed. Your immediate boss, Ted, always gave shout outs to Josh in meetings, and you would be lying if you said the way Josh’s face would tinge pink every time didn’t melt your heart. He was absolutely terrible at taking compliments. He was deserving of all the praise, hell he deserved a promotion at this point with how much he led the team, but he would get so bashful whenever someone would tell him so.  Sometimes…you would compliment him on purpose just to see the color rise in his cheeks, and if you were lucky, a glimpse of the dimple on his left side.

You slid onto the bench that was bolted to the table, a fixture that hadn’t been updated since the nineties, you were sure. Normally you sat across from him, but today you just had the itch to be in his personal space. 

“Whatcha working on?” You asked as you popped open the container for your salad.

“I am working on…a PowerPoint…,” he quipped, giving you a playful sideways glance. 

You nodded, letting him type and fill up the current slide as you dumped your salad dressing into the container and mixed it with the greens and grilled chicken. After a few minutes of silence, you leaned over to him, brushing your shoulder against his, “you need a cool transition. No PowerPoint is complete without a cool transition.” 

At this he stopped typing and turned his face towards yours, seemingly unbothered with how close you were to him, “I can just see the look on Ted’s face when he hears the ‘whoosh’ between slides about projected first quarter profit margins.”

 

“That man needs a good laugh. Or to get laid. Maybe both,” you nudged his shoulder before going back to your lunch. 

“Don’t we all…,” Josh mumbled to himself. You almost asked him what he meant but he was quickly back at it, filling out bullet points and inserting graphs on the side. It wasn’t unusual to see him this engrossed in his work, but frankly, you were bored. This was the one hour you could truly hang out with him and not have to talk shop. Your friend needed to relax, and not let his work become his life. He always told you that the more he got done during the day meant the less he had to do when he got home, but you knew that was a lie. He always came in the next day with more work than when he left, and sometimes you wondered if that laptop bag of his was surgically attached to his shoulder. 

Your salad was long gone and Josh was still typing away, clicking back and forth from his data and his project. Knowing what would get his attention, you innocently poked at his side, and held back a laugh when he flinched and smiled. This spurred you on, and you poked his arm now, forcing him to make a typo. He was trying so hard to not give in, to not give you the satisfaction that he was amused, but he was failing. 

You upped your ante by reaching for his ear. Gently, you ran your fingertip down the shell of his ear, feeling every curve and contour before brushing the skin next to his earlobe. This caused Josh to visibly shudder, and he tried to cover it up by suddenly jerking his head to the side to pretend to bite your finger. You erupted in giggles before you were aware of how close his face was to your hand. Before you could stop yourself, you extended your fingers to lightly cup his jaw. Instead of backing away, he leaned into your touch, a move that neither of you were expecting. His fingers stilled on the keyboard, and slowly backed away and into his lap he turned his body to face yours. 

The logical side of you wanted to just laugh and lean back onto your end of the bench as if nothing happened, but the other side of you, the side that needed him, was telling that first side to shut the fuck up. Letting the intrusive thoughts win, you leaned closer to him, and you hitched a breath when you saw him do the same. There was no space between the two of you, your right thigh was firmly against his left, heat radiating through both of your respective slacks. 

Before either of you could think about it too much, Josh closed the gap between you and slotted his lips onto yours, lazily taking your bottom lip into his mouth. The action caused you to moan against him, and you seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss. The professional side of you was screeching in your head that you were literally at work and in a courtyard full of people, but the rest of you argued back that no one could see you given how tall the hedges were. 

One of Josh’s hands slid up to your face, mirroring what you were doing to him, and his other hand snaked around your waist, desperate to have you closer. Your tongue slipped into his mouth, and he opened up for you instantly. For several moments, you made out like teenagers on that bench. 

You weren’t close enough to him, and before you could protest he lifted you up and over his lap, allowing you to straddle him. He was thanking God that the greenery was so overgrown that you couldn’t be seen in the position you were in. 

As you settled down onto his lap, the rigid outline of his cock pressed up against you, and you instinctively grinded down on him. He bit your bottom lip to keep himself from moaning too loud, but it was futile as that only caused you to let out a breathy moan of your own.

He was kissing you like he was starving, and you couldn’t get over just how good he felt. You always stole glances at his lips, noting how perfect his cupid's bow was and they were the most enviable shade of pink. 

But just as you lowered yourself back down to grind on him even more, a very loud and obnoxious cackle was let out across the courtyard. Of course it was Vera’s obnoxious ass laughing at whatever the fuck. This caused Josh to break away from you, sobering him up to the situation. He was suddenly very aware of you straddling him, with bruised lips and tousled hair. He couldn’t…he couldn’t be here much longer or else he wouldn’t be able to stop. Without any preamble he guided you off his lap and slid out the other side of the bench and adjusted his belt buckle and smoothed down his shirt. He didn’t even glance at you when he shut his laptop and turned to leave, quickly mumbling about needing to run to the bank before his lunch hour was up. It was a clear lie, but he didn’t give you a chance to call him out on it before nearly running out of that courtyard, leaving you dazed and…very wet…on that bench. 

You leaned back in your office chair and rolled your eyes at the memory, not because you didn’t love it, or that it didn’t replay in your head every time you saw the man, but because you were afraid it completely fucked up your friendship with Josh. Before you on your screen was a reminder email about the company Christmas Party that was being held this weekend. You wanted to go, but the thought of mingling with coworkers while Josh continued to ignore you made you want to crawl under your desk and never come out. Because of his outstanding job performance, he was put on the planning committee and thus would have to be there. There was no avoiding him. 

With a resigned sigh you glanced over at his desk, hoping to see him, but finding it Josh-less. Instead you heard his voice chattering away at another desk, leaning against the entrance to a nearby cubicle. To everyone else, he was his normal talkative self, but for you, he was silent and cold. What the actual fuck was his problem? The more you thought about it, the more it pissed you off. Just who does he think he is by kissing you like that, touching you like that, fulfilling the fantasies you’ve had in your head for months, only to throw you away essentially and leave you high but not very dry? Fuck him, but not in the literal sense. He didn’t deserve that. A plan was forming in your head. You were going to show up to that party pushing every button you knew how to push with him. After working for him for nearly two years, you knew what made that man tick. You had picked up on several preferences of his via passing comments, jokes, or flat out remarks. 

And you were going to exploit every single one of them. 

When the day of the party arrived, you looked over at your outfit laid out on your bed. A beautiful long sleeved navy blue velvet dress. Why blue? Well that color had become an inside joke between the two of you, stemming from an exchange on your very first day in the office. 

You were settling into your new cubicle, arranging your things and figuring out just where you wanted everything to go. The size of your desk surprised you, as you were expecting a smaller space given you were a new hire, but the expanse of the desk gave you so much more room to work with. It was a blessing as you tended to spread out your paperwork around you throughout your day, a habit that your old boss noted every time she walked by your desk. 

As you reached into your box full of things you brought from home, your hand settled on the third Funko Pop you had picked out of your collection. Your Funko of Daphne from Scooby Doo had been one of the first you had bought when you started your collection, and she meant a lot to you. 

“You take them out of the box?” An unfamiliar yet pleasant voice interrupted your thoughts and you nearly dropped the box you were holding from being startled. 

Snapping your head up at the source, you were greeted by a rather…gorgeous man with curious big brown eyes. You had briefly seen him when your new boss was giving you a tour of the area you would be working in, and he had been getting something out of the supply closet. 

“Sorry?”

“Your Funkos…you take them out of the box?” 

Realizing what he was referring to, you chuckled slightly in embarrassment, “oh don’t start, my brother already gives me enough shit about ‘ruining their value’ whenever he comes over and sees my collection. They just look so sad sitting in them. They need to be free!”

This caused the stranger to smile as he extended his hand for you to shake, “I’m Josh, your new neighbor across the way.” He dramatically threw a glance over his shoulder at his own cubicle across from yours. You gladly shook his hand and told him your own name, which he repeated softly. 

You continued to pull more items out of your box as he stood there, not minding you had company. In the panic to get what you needed for your new job, you had inadvertently brought mostly blue office supplies. Blue post-its, blue binders, blue pens; it was as if your brain found one color it liked in the store and made you match everything to calm your nerves. 

“Your sweater matches your binders…,” Josh observed. 

This was your second time you looked up at him in embarrassment, “Oh! Yeah…purely unintentional. It’s my nicest one and I wanted to make a good-”

“It looks nice on you, that shade of blue,” he interrupted. 

Before you could stop yourself, you started rattling off a quote from one of your favorite films, “Oh this sweater is not just blue, it's not turquoise, it's not lapis, it's-"

"...actually cerulean?" 

The smile that spread across your face could light up the entire room, it wasn’t a niche reference, but you were so glad he picked up on it and you didn’t embarrass yourself a third time. After that, your friendship with Josh quickly blossomed, and the ‘blue’ joke got to a point where Josh was calling you Blue to your face, a nickname that stuck no matter how many times you told him to stop. 

Six months into your stay at your current job, you walked into work thinking nothing of the date, but when you got to your desk you saw a familiar small white box with a blue bow taped to the top. You dropped your bag onto your desk and picked it up. Turning it over in your hands you saw that it was a Miranda Priestly Funko, and while you instantly understood who gave it to you, you were confused at the occasion. 

“Happy Six Months, Blue,” Josh said warmly behind you, startling you. 

“Six months?”

“Since you started here! I saw it online and you’ve worked really hard these last six months so I just thought…you needed a token of appreciation.” He leaned towards you and whispered, “since you and I both know corporate doesn’t keep up with such things.” 

You smiled up at him, warmed by the gesture, “thanks Josh…” 

After a few seconds of awkwardly standing there, Josh piped up, “go on…free her from her plastic prison. She’s running out of air and it's getting dark! I’m frightened for her.” Giggles escaped your mouth as you ripped open the box and freed your new Funko. She was put next to your Daphne, as they both held strong sentimental value now. 

You shook your head from the memories, needing to focus on the task at hand. Slipping on the dress and securing your heels, you gave yourself one last look in the mirror before you left for the party. Your hair was perfect, your eyelids dusted with a champagne-colored shimmer, and your lips were adorned with a neutral matte red. There was no way he could ignore you with the way you looked. 

Or so you thought. 

After nearly an hour of mingling, your “friend” had yet to even walk passed you. In fact it was pretty obvious he was avoiding you. He was only on the stupid decorating committee but you’d think he was the host of the entire party with the way he was flitting about the employees, giving them warm greetings and thanking them for coming. You didn’t want to follow him around like a lost puppy, but you kept deliberately putting yourself in his line of vision and he acted like you weren’t there. What the fuck? 

At this point, you were standing with a bunch of your coworkers on your floor, trying to not make it obvious you were glaring at Josh while slowly sipping your cocktail. By the grace of God, one of the men from your floor walked over with Josh in tow, firmly planting him in the little group that had gathered. He still avoided your gaze, keeping his eyes on Brad who clapped him on the shoulder and praised him for a project he had recently finished and was going to present next week. 

Your friend Stacy waved her hand at them, “oh come on no work talk tonight, we get enough of that during the day.” 

“I know, I know but Josh ran his ideas by me the other week and was telling me how it all came together at the end, I’m happy for him,” Brad defended. 

What? Josh never ran ideas with anyone else but you. You were always his first choice whenever he had something cooking in his head. Hell, you didn’t even know he had a big project lined up. But there he was, cheeks flushing at the praise. Under any other circumstances, your heart would stutter at the sight, adoring how bashful he could be, but right now? Right now it pissed you off, and you were on your second cocktail of the night. Your filter was nonexistent.��

“You told Brad about your new project?” You blurted out, slightly slurring your speech. 

At last, Josh finally addressed you, “yes? I wanted to run some numbers by him just to double che-”

“But you always run your ideas by me?” Unfortunately, the alcohol also made it impossible for you to hide the hurt in your voice. “You always ask to pick my brain on things.”

You took a step forward, “yes you do, and I always run my ideas by you in return. They always note how well we work together in meetings.” The rest of your coworkers stood there awkwardly not knowing what to do as you verbally sparred. You didn’t care, you stared at Josh barely blinking. His jaw was clenched, lips set in a line. But you couldn’t stop the words tumbling from your mouth, “you don’t even like Brad! You told me his projections were always off and he talks too much during meetings which is rich coming from-”

At this, Josh handed his drink off to the closest person and quickly grabbed your hand to pull you away from the group. He guided you through the crowd, and you dropped off your empty glass on a random table, not caring where it was. The only thing you could focus on was the warmth from his hand, and how he effortlessly laced your fingers together as he walked. This was the first time he had even touched you since that lunchtime makeout session. 

He swung the outside door open, leading you out onto the side deck of the venue. No one else was out here due to the cold, and the cold wind sobered you up a little. You stood next to the deck rail, glaring at him. 

“What the fuck, Josh?!” 

“What the fuck Josh? How about what the fuck, Blue?!” He’s giving you the hardest look he’s ever given you, his eyes a darker shade of brown you weren’t used to seeing, and no cheek dimple in sight. He continued, “I am preventing you from getting fired for running your mouth in front of everyone.” 

You sneer, “since when do you care what my mouth does?” 

He clenches his jaw again, and he swallows hard enough to see his Adam's apple bob beneath the gorgeous white turtleneck he was wearing. “You know what, I think you need to just stay out here for the rest of the night, and lay off the eggnog.” 

He started to walk off but you grabbed his arm before he could leave, “no, you don’t get to do this again. You have ignored me for nearly a month now.” You lowered your voice even though it was only the two of you outside, “we never even talked…about it…was I that bad?”

He spins to face you, and backs you up against the deck rail, placing both hands on either side of you, bracketing yourself between his arms. He stares at you for a few more seconds, before declaring in a gruff voice, “you were absolutely incredible, and that's the problem.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, and he continued, “I have done nothing but think of you since that day, hell I thought about you every single day before that. Ever since you walked into that office, in that fucking blue sweater, your perfectly coordinated desk supplies, your intelligence, the way you always have a comeback for everything…Blue, I could not get you out of my head even if I tried. But that day? When I finally got to taste you? Have you in my arms? It ruined me. Ruined me for everyone else. The mere thought of even talking to you afterwards sent all my blood south and I can’t walk around the office with a fucking boner, can I?”  You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off again, “and you show up here tonight, looking like this, knowing how much I love you in blue…you wicked little thing.” 

Just then, the door to the outside was swung open by someone that worked on a different floor, and you guessed they got the hint because they quickly went back inside. But as the door closed behind them, the two of you could hear Blue Christmas by Elvis being played loudly through the speakers inside. How appropriate. 

All of your worst case scenarios that had haunted your mind the last few weeks weren’t even true at all. Josh’s words had your heart hammering in your chest, and having him this close to you after a month-long cut off had you aching. His breath was hot as it fanned over your face, the rich chocolate of his irises that matched his brown suit were smoldering before you. Reaching up, you gently cupped his jaw the same way you did weeks ago on that bench, and just like before he leaned into your hand his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Blue…,” he whispered against your palm. 

“I missed you so fucking much. I don’t think you understand how empty I felt without you talking to me every day. Not hearing your daily complaints, not making me laugh, no eye contact during meetings when they got boring? I sat downstairs every single day, at our usual table, hoping to see you, but you never showed. I felt like I did something horribly wrong and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me otherwise,” he shook his head against your hand,  “You just shut me out with no explanation.”

“No..no I’m sorry for that…it was stupid, and cruel of me. I just didn’t know what to do. Every time I tried to talk myself into talking to you, it resulted in me thinking of scenarios that would’ve had us end up with multiple HR violations, and I just couldn’t do it.” He rested his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed. 

“Well, Kiszka, what are you going to do about it now?”

A low growl rumbled in his chest and he finally opened his eyes to look over your shoulder at the sprawling grounds of the country club. 

“What if I told you, that when we were looking for venues, I noticed that this particular one has an entire property just for a garden, that's currently out of season, and that there’s a greenhouse off to the side that they keep some of the plants indoors over the winter?” 

You were tempted to look over your shoulder to see what he was looking at, but you didn’t want your eyes to leave his face.

“Are you suggesting…?”

“I’m saying that I need to finish what I started four weeks ago.” 

Before you could respond he took your hand and led you down the steps of the deck and out onto the frost-covered lawn. The entrance to the garden wasn’t very far, but it was nestled in a brick fence. Once inside and out of sight, you got a glimpse at your surroundings. The garden was definitely winterized and dormant, but the hedges were evergreen and tall, successfully blocking anyone who might peer over to that side of the property from the main building. His fingers were still laced with yours as he took a sharp left and down a narrow path. As you traveled deeper into the garden, the party noise slowly fizzled out, and by the time you got to the greenhouse in question, you could barely hear anything other than the wind rustling branches. 

“It’s probably locked…,” you suggested, trying not to sound disappointed.

Josh briefly panicked, not quite thinking about that when he came up with this plan, but he quickly reached up to feel the top of the door frame. When his fingertips landed on cold metal, he nearly said a prayer out loud in gratitude. He held the key up to you, before spinning back around and trying it in the lock. As fate would have it, the lock clicked and the handle turned easily, granting you access. 

Inside, there were a few space heaters already running to keep the chilly night air outside. The temperature difference as you stepped inside was stark, and you shut the door behind you to keep any more winter air from coming in. One of the tables in the middle of the room had been cleaned off recently, with no pots or excess dirt littering the surface. When he was satisfied in his choice for this tryst, he turned around to face you again and backed you up into the door, colliding his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him even closer. His hands flexed and kneaded your hips through the velvet fabric of your dress; his fingertips slowly bunching the material higher and higher until they met the skin underneath. He ran his hands along your skin, stopping abruptly when he felt the lacy material of your thong. He mapped out the lace blindly, tracing the woven pattern while pulling away from your lips to pant harshly against your face. 

“You were really walking around that party wearing these?”

“...you should see my bra…”

The only light in the greenhouse was from the waxing gibbous moon in the sky, streaming its moonbeams through the glass windows. But even with the limited light, you could see Josh’s eyes darken even more at your words. He couldn’t take it anymore, and reached down to firmly grip the back of your thighs and lifted you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist and he backed up and carefully set you back down on the cleared off table. His lips moved to your neck now, sucking bruises onto your skin, not giving a shit about the marks he left behind. You were his, goddamnit. Now that you were on the surface of the table, he reached back under your dress to tug your thong down your legs. He backed up just enough to slip it off your ankles and past your heels, but he didn’t let it fall to the floor, he looped it around his fingers to hold in front of his face to get a better look at it in the moonlight. It was fucking…blue. You wore dark blue lingerie tonight? Your mission to torture him was succeeding, and another growl grumbled in his chest. Your words from earlier echoed in his head, and after shoving your thong in his pocket, he quickly started tugging your dress off of you. Lifting your dress over your head, his eyes raked down your body. The height of the table gave him a perfect, eye level view of your breasts. The lace that perfectly cupped your flesh matched the thong in his pocket, and he had to lean against his hands on the edge of the table to compose himself. The wood dug into his skin a thought occurred to him, and he immediately ripped his jacket off and swung it around, laying it down behind you, so you wouldn’t have to feel the cold table against your skin. He looked up at you, silently asking permission and when you nodded his hands landed on your breasts, squeezing them through the lace. 

Josh stood before you, wearing absolutely too much in his white turtleneck and slacks. It was incredibly unfair, and you needed to fix that. In your tangle of limbs you clawed at the back of his shirt to pull it off of him. He got the hint and flung it over his head, letting it land on top of your dress beside you. Now it was your turn to gawk at him. This was the most you had ever seen of Josh at this point, and the sight of his perfectly unmarred skin in the moonlight had you drooling. Your hands itched to squeeze his shoulders and dig your nails into his skin. In a flurry, your bra quickly came off, nipples hardening in the chilly air. His mouth immediately closed around one of them, causing you to throw your head back and a reedy sigh escaped your lips. 

As much as you loved the attention he was giving you, you needed more. You needed him. Now. 

“Josh…please…,” you whined. 

He nodded and moaned against your chest, before popping off and returning to your mouth. As his lips devoured yours he reached down to undo his belt and slacks, the metal clanking against the side of the table. He pushed his pants down to his knees and brought one hand to his cock, squeezing it and giving himself a few pumps. You pulled away from his mouth just enough to look down at it, and a shiver of anticipation ran through you. Reaching down, you pushed his hand away and wrapped your fingers around him. 

“Fuck, baby…” rattled out of his mouth. Spurred on, you started to pump him yourself, let your thumb catch the drop of precum resting at the tip, smearing it around the head. His hand shook as he closed it around yours, stopping your movements. “Keep doing that and this will be over embarrassingly fast.” You giggled and moved your arms to rest on his shoulders, giving him a minute to compose himself. 

Finally, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you. He took his cock in his hand once again, dragging it up and down through your slit. You were so fucking wet. He looked at you again, silently asking-

“Josh you don’t do something I’m going to be the one leaving this time and never forgiving you.” 

With that he surged forward, filling you in one fluid motion, causing the both of you to moan into each other's mouths. Your hearts hammering in your chests. He didn’t waste no time before he reared back and filled you again, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he bottomed out. As much as he wanted to, there wasn’t time to take this slow, and frankly after the last month there was too much tension built up between you to even fathom another pace. He leaned you back down onto his jacket, the satin lining felt cool and soft against your skin, and he hovered over you as best he could given the height of the table. 

Your legs instantly wrapped around his waist, locking your ankles right above his ass. As you promised yourself earlier, your nails dug into the soft flesh of his shoulders, and he hissed in your ear in response. Slowly you dragged your fingertips down his back as he pumped into you, the angle making his pelvis grind against your clit exactly the way you needed it. 

It was becoming apparent that the table wasn’t built for strenuous activities, and it started to creek and shift underneath you. Josh didn’t pay it any mind, he was too focused on peppering kisses all along your face and neck, not wanting to leave your skin for a second. He couldn’t get enough of you, and the fact that he was finally having you, was sinking in. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but that first time he saw you while you took your tour around the office while he was at the supply closet? It had to be as close as one could get. He nearly dropped an entire stack of printer paper when you walked by and your perfume invaded his senses, causing him to look up to see where it was coming from. The sheer luck that you got assigned to the cubicle next to his, and how he pretended to be busy while you started sorting your things. He observed you for several minutes before making his presence known, in the least creepy way possible. You were just…adorable…in how you were organizing your desk, and how you muttered to yourself as you picked things out of the box.

 The crush he developed that day was strong from the beginning, and now? Now he had you completely. His skin was slapping against yours. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, tugging at the roots. Your thighs were squeezing his hips as he hiked one of them higher on his side, allowing him to bury himself deeper inside you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect…god, Blue…fuck…,” he rambled against your mouth, unable to hold back his words. 

You whimpered up at him, “you feel so good.”

“Yeah? Who's making you feel this good?” He lifted his head just enough to look you in the eyes. 

“...you…”

Not satisfied with your answer, he reared back and slammed back into you, harder than before, “no, who is making you feel this good?”

Oh, you knew what he wanted, but you weren’t going to give it to him this easily. Instead you just stroked his cheeks with your thumbs, smiling up at him. 

You wanted to be a brat, he thought, two could play at that game. He instantly pulled out of you, fighting every instinct in his body to stay inside. You whimpered at the sudden loss, your brows furrowing. 

“I’m going to ask you again…” 

For a split second you hated him. You had been so fucking close, and he literally ripped it away from you. Too desperate to keep playing you nearly shouted, “JOSH, you, Josh…you’re making me feel this good…” 

A smirk appeared on his face before he slammed back into you, “mmm…good girl.” 

This side of Josh was surprising you, but you loved it. You had never really taken him for a dominating type, but you couldn’t wait to see more of it in the future. But before you could think about that, your high came hurtling back to you. He reached between you, going straight for your clit and started swirling his fingers around it. You were so wet that his fingertips glided easily in figure-8 motions against the hard nub, causing you to writhe beneath him. His name tumbled from your lips repeatedly as you felt yourself climbing higher and higher. The combination of his fingers and the ridges of his cock dragging against your walls was too much, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. With a shout, you shook underneath him as you came. He continued to pump into you, chasing his own high and prolonging yours with his nimble fingers. You were squeezing him so hard as you rode out your high, and he only had about three thrusts left in him before he emptied himself inside you. His vision nearly went white as he came, and your actual first name shuddered from his mouth. 

Neither of you moved for several moments, but the feeling of his release slowly leaking out and around his cock was undeniable. You started to panic at how you were going to clean up, until Josh reached next to your shoulder where the inside pocket of his jacket was. Silently he fished out a white handkerchief. You caught a glimpse of the initials, JMK, stitched in gold thread in the corner before it disappeared between you two and he pulled out, making quick work to clean you up. When he was satisfied, he stood up fully to pull his slacks back up around his waist, and reached over for your bra, handing it back to you. You slowly sat up, your muscles still feeling like jelly. The two of you were quiet as you redressed yourselves, and you remembered he had your thong in his pocket. 

Holding your hand out, you asked, “can I have them back now?” 

Josh smirked again as he put his jacket back on, “no…I’m keeping those.” 

Your eyes widened as you stared at him, “Josh!” 

He took your hand and started to lead you to the door, “you can have them back when we get to my place…” 

Stopping dead in your tracks you say, “a little presumptuous don’t you think?” Josh’s eyes widened and he realized how that sounded, and he opened his mouth to apologize before you continued, “who said we were going to your place instead of mine?” You laughed at how his shoulders visibly relaxed at your words, and caught up with him at the door. 

“You really are a wicked little thing…,” he mumbled as you ventured back out into the cold. 

As you made it to Josh’s car, you thought you had done a good job at not being seen by anyone, but unbeknownst to the two of you, Stacy and Brad were standing on that same deck from earlier. They watched your very freshly-fucked selves climb into the Jeep before taking off.

A week or so later, on Christmas Eve-Eve, you were greeted to a present sitting on your desk. It was a decent sized box covered in blue wrapping paper, matching blue bow on top. 

“Merry Christmas, Blue,” your boyfriends voice sounded behind you. You looked over your shoulder at him, dropping your bag on your chair. “Go on…it’ll fit on your desk.” 

Skeptically you turned and ripped the wrapping paper off the box, the first thing you saw was the red LEGO square in the corner. Confused, you peeled off the rest of the paper to reveal your present. It was the greenhouse LEGO set. 

“You little shit.” 

FIN

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @gretasmokerising , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne , @twistedmelodies , @stardustvanfleet ,

#josh kiszka #josh kiszka x reader #blue Christmas #greta van fleet #josh gvf #friends to lovers #mutual pining #my fics #💙🎄

[nataliesfirefly]

chapter 2 - when autumn leaves start to fall

chapter warnings: slight language

wc: 4k

series masterlist

Yet another rainy October evening is upon you as you hurriedly walk to the library, your heavy backpack slung over your shoulder and textbooks clutched in your arms. You forgot your umbrella again. This seems to be a regular occurrence. Though it is only drizzling, so you can manage.

You let out a sigh of relief when you push open one of the double doors, greeted by light, warmth, bookshelves, and tables. You breathe in the familiar, woody scent of old books and their pages.

Not many people are here tonight. In fact, you think it’s just you, besides the librarian, Mrs. Ambrose, at the front desk clacking away on a keyboard. You smile with contentedness, setting down your bag at your usual spot and pulling out your laptop after taking your seat. You yawn and open your biology textbook, before hearing the sound of the door you had just walked through open.

Farleigh. Why is he here, out of all times? He’s such a pest, always around. Everywhere you look, there he is, walking around like he has just graced the student population with his presence.

He stops to chat with Mrs. Ambrose, smiling and chuckling all charmingly. You roll your eyes and try to focus on your biology homework, but suddenly cell division seems a whole lot less interesting.

You glance back up to see him walking over to a table, looking down at his phone the whole way. He eventually sits down and gets his things organized, sighs, and then looks up. His gaze locks onto yours. You hold the eye contact, never one to give up on a challenge, before he glances away and back to his work.

You take it as a sign to get back to your own work. You fish out your notebook from your backpack to write down some extra notes from the textbook. Your biology teacher is sometimes lacking in providing all the right information. You chew on your pen as your eyes scan over the words, your brows knitting together in concentration, But for some reason, you can’t help but feel someone’s gaze upon you.

Interestingly enough, when you look back up from the book, Farleigh is observing you from afar. He quickly looks away once he’s been caught, pretending to stretch, leaning back in his chair and yawning. You go back to your notes.

Wait, you thought that he said he ‘never studies.’ Is this considered studying, or is he just catching up on work? You glance back over to him to possibly find out. You can’t see from this far away though, obviously, so now it just looks like you’re staring at him. His head raises once again and he quirks an eyebrow when he meets your gaze. Something glints in his dark eyes and a smirk plays on his lips. You shake your head to clear your thoughts and glance back down to your textbook.

Eventually, you finish the work you needed to get done, along with the chapter of Wuthering Heights you were assigned to read today. You haul your heavy backpack onto your shoulders, scooping up your books and walking towards the door.

You walk past Farleigh, not daring to look at him as you pass by. Mrs. Ambrose dips her head to you on your way out and you offer a smile. The rain has stopped, thankfully, so you can safely make your way back to your dorm without getting pelted.

The next evening you return to the library around the same time. There’s a few more people here this time, but no one sitting in your usual place. You shuffle over and set your things down before looking around, surveying the large room. You don’t know what or who you’re looking for, but then–

Farleigh. Why is he here again?! Yes, it’s a student library, for anyone who wants to come and enjoy some peace and quiet while studying or doing homework, but he is normally never here. And you would know, because you seem to spend most of your afternoons and evenings here, because if you try to work in your dorm you’ll end up falling asleep.

And tonight, he’s sitting a few tables closer to you than last night. Surely it’s not on purpose. Maybe he doesn’t have a usual spot like you do.

You narrow your eyes and watch him. You’re just observing. Like two competitors in some sport would, analyzing and watching closely for weaknesses or habits. You study his polished and put-together appearance.

Farleigh is not bad looking, you realize. Far from it. Maybe if his personality wasn’t so… well, then maybe he would be attractive. Not to you, though. To someone else. Right?

Your eyes trace the shape of his face, his straight nose, his thick, curly hair that reminds you of a lion’s mane with coiled locks of dark brown and caramel. You watch the dangling pendants on his two stacked necklaces as he leans down over his work, fully concentrated.

The realization that you’ve been looking at him for too long finally catches up with you. You glance away, stealing a quick look from your peripheral to make sure no one saw you doing that.

Someone sits down next to you. “Hey,” A soft voice says your name. You turn to see your friend, Clara. You met her last year in your chemistry class. “Hi, Clara,” You reply with a smile, your voice lowered to match the volume of the quiet chatting around you.

“How are you doing? We haven’t spoken since last year,” She grins, her bright blue eyes sparkling. “I’m doing well. How about yourself?” You respond. “Alright, you know. Just… stressed. I’m trying to pick which uni’s I want to apply to.” She sighs.

“My parents want me to apply to Cambridge, but I know I’m not smart enough to get in. There’s no point. And, well– I really want to study abroad in America,” She explains, her smile broadening at the mention of her desires. You remember a few things about Clara, and one of them is that she really likes to talk. She will overshare any details about her life to anyone who’s willing to listen. You already know you won’t be getting anything else done tonight as long as she’s here.

“You are smart, Clara. You don’t give yourself enough credit.” You pat her shoulder. You aren’t exactly sure that she is smart enough to get into Cambridge, but you offer the reassurance anyway like a good friend should. She shakes her head. “Last year I nearly failed my exams. Oh, I have an idea!” Her voice gets a bit louder due to her excitement, and a few people turn to look at the two of you.

“Sorry.” She clears her throat. “You should help me. You know, to study, get better scores… And I won’t copy off of you like I did last year. I promise.” She whispers. “Even if I want to go to school in the states, I need better marks. Besides, you’re the smartest person here. It would be such a helpful favor,” She bats her eyelashes and looks at you hopefully.

“Oh. Thanks.” Before registering anything else she just said, all you seem to have retained were the words ‘You’re the smartest person here.’ In your mind right now, you’re giggling and squealing. Maybe Clara is just saying that because she’s trying to convince you to become her tutor, but regardless, it makes you feel important. Take that, Farleigh.

You regain your composure. “I would love to help you, Clara. Just give me a call whenever you would like to study.” She nods eagerly.

“This will be so very helpful for midterms!” She claps her hands together softly. “Thank you so much!” She abruptly stands up and grabs her bag. “You can stay if you like–” You begin.

“I didn’t actually come here to work. I just like the… atmosphere.” She gestures to the room. You nod. “Ah.” She’s going to be an interesting person to teach.

“Well, have a good night!” She spins on her heel and skips toward the front, earning a few judgmental glances from the other students. You sit there and ponder whether you should have committed to helping her. It’s just another thing to add to your plate. When you look around for Farleigh, you realize he’s already gone. You let out a long sigh.

One Sunday afternoon, you are taking a walk outside around the campus, breathing in the crisp autumn air and listening to the warm-colored leaves crunching under your feet. You enjoy walks, they take your mind off of things, like the work you need to do, or how you need to call your mom, or that you not only have a calculus test tomorrow, but a biology test too.

You find yourself walking up the stairs to one of the lesser known corridors, in one of the older parts of the school. It’s slightly dim and a little bit creepy, with dust particles dancing around in the small amount of natural light.

And then, you hear a melody floating down the hallway. You raise an eyebrow and peer down the hall. It sounds like a piano.

You start to wonder if you’re in a horror movie or if you’re just imagining things. Usually, this is your secret spot for when you want to be alone because no one really goes there. Except today, the one time when you really need to be alone.

Nevertheless, you’re curious about the source of the sound. It’s a beautiful song, and it sounds familiar. You slowly walk, stopping at the end of the hall when you see a doorway. You look into the room. It’s a strange, small room with a high ceiling and walls of old stone, painted by the sunshine shining through the colorful stained glass. And in the middle of the room, an elegant and timeless grand piano and… Farleigh?

He continues playing, lost in a trance, his fingers gracefully moving over the keys and producing beautiful chords. There is also no sheet music in front of him. He’s playing all this from memory? How is he so good at everything? You wouldn’t have expected him to be a pianist, though. He’s too… loud and annoying. But right now, he’s almost a completely different person. Calm, serene, focused.

Suddenly he stops playing. “I can see you,” He says. You curse under your breath. “Um. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—“ You stutter, not knowing why you’re nervous all of a sudden.

“Well, you did,” Farleigh responds sarcastically. He sighs and stares down at the black and white keys. You awkwardly walk over, your shoes scuffing against the stone floor.

“I didn’t know you played piano,” You stand beside the piano, your hand resting atop the smooth black surface. “Not many people do.” He says, playing some random chords absentmindedly.

“So.. it’s just a hobby of yours?” You ask. He looks up at you, surprised that you’re interested. “Pretty much. I don’t play often, it’s just something I do when I’m bored.” He says casually, like being this talented is a regular occurrence. He scoots over slightly on the bench and you step forward tentatively, trying to decipher whether he wants you to sit down next to him or not. There’s no change in his expression, so you take it as a sign to sit down.

It’s like there’s some truce between the two of you when you’re not in a classroom or the library. Like right now, the competition seems to leave and there’s only a peaceful kind of atmosphere left in its wake.

“Did you have a piano? Back home, I mean?” You ask with a soft smile, tilting your head. Farleigh shakes his head. “No. Well, yes. I would go over to my neighbors’ house and use their piano.” He explains, his voice gentle compared to his usual stark tone.

“So you were self taught?” You question, genuinely curious. “Yeah. Unless you count a bunch of music books as a teacher,” He jokes. You laugh quietly.

“My neighbors, back in the states… they were the family I never had. My dad left, and my mom– well, she was out of it. Half of the time I never knew where she was. She was either out drinking or doing drugs.” He explains, still gazing down at the piano keys. “They ended up taking care of me most of the time. And whenever I needed a break from the chaos, I just went over there and played piano until I couldn’t think about my problems anymore.”

There’s a moment of silence as you feel sorrow for him wash over you. You never knew he had such a rough past. You turn to him.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m awful at piano.” You chuckle at your own words and Farleigh turns to look at you. There’s a smirk tugging at his lips, just barely visible. “Thanks. It does.” He nods and gives in to the smile. The quietness lingers and you just look at each other for a moment, observing and analyzing one another. That is, until your leg brushes against his and you inhale sharply as you’re quickly taken out of the moment. “Sorry.” You chuckle quietly and stand up, stepping away from the bench. He raises his eyebrows at you as you scuttle towards the doorway.

“Um. See you… soon.” You awkwardly wave before walking speedily down the hallway and towards the stairs that you had originally gone up a few minutes ago. What was that? You’ve never been that friendly with Farleigh before. He’s never been that talkative around you. Except for when it came to insults, of course.

You walk back to your dorm, hoping that whatever that was, he would never bring it up in conversation. You won’t mention it either.

A few days later, you are going to the library again. After making a 95 on your last calculus assessment, you’ve decided it’s time to take your studying up a notch. Clearly you’re not doing enough right now.

You walk in. Thursday evenings at the library are typically pretty busy, but tonight there’s only a few other students here. You head towards your usual spot after giving Mrs. Ambrose a quick nod and a smile.

It’s almost as if you have a sixth sense for when Farleigh is around. Sure enough, he’s here, in the library, sitting in your spot. Everyone knows it’s your seat. No one ever sits there because you’ve basically claimed it. Unless he’s an idiot, he’s definitely doing this on purpose.

“You’re in my spot.” You stand next to the table and scowl down at him. It takes him a moment to finish what he’s writing down before he glances up at you, as if you’re unimportant.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know we had assigned seats in this library.” He says with a harsh glare and a sharp tone. “Oh, okay,” You give him your best fake smile, saccharine and disingenuous. “Now get out of my chair.” You hiss, dropping your grin.

“There’s so many other places to sit, why should I have to move?” He leans back and crosses his arms sassily. “Because.” You state simply. “What a persuading reason.” He replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “How about you shut your mouth, gather your things, and move to another table?” You suggest, leaning forward and placing both hands on the table to hopefully intimidate him.

“Sorry. You’ll just have to sit somewhere else tonight,” He smiles and tilts his head, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. You groan. Suddenly, you get a brilliant idea as you glance around.

“Oh my God, Farleigh, you seriously failed your biology test?” You say, your voice raised so everyone in the library can hear. Several heads turn and quieted gasps and giggles can be heard. Farleigh stands up immediately and grabs your arm, pulling you close to him, only separated by the table, which is now pressing against you painfully.

“Fuck off and go find someone else to bother.” He mutters, his face very close to yours, your noses almost touching. You stare into his eyes, which are dark and full of anger. Your plan succeeded. You got a rise out of him, as you had hoped.

He shoves you away, releasing your arm from his tight grasp and sitting back down, letting out a sharp sigh. You turn away so he doesn’t see the grin on your face as you walk off to another table nearby, only accepting your defeat because you got him so riled up.

It’s laughable how easily you can both switch from being friendly to hating each other’s guts. It’s as if the moment in the piano room the other day never even happened. Farleigh clearly seems to have wiped it from his memory, based on how he just responded to you.

You fish your copy of Wuthering Heights out of your bag and pick up where you left off. You’re surprised that you’ve actually somewhat enjoyed this book. You’re excited for the final project and what your essay prompt is going to be.

Your phone buzzes with a text message, so you pull it out of your pocket and set your book down to check who it is. It’s Clara. The text reads:

Hey queen! I’ve got a really important history test tomorrow so I was wondering if you could help me study tonight? Lmk! xx

You sigh and realize you must follow through with your plans. You said you would help her, so now you need to. You text back.

Ofc Clara, no problem xx Come to the library I’m there right now.

You send the text and set your phone down, leaning back in your chair and yawning. Now you wait for Clara to show up.

You steal a glance at Farleigh, who’s writing away in his notebook. Must be for the lab report in biology. You already got that done yesterday. You’re one step ahead of him, like usual.

Clara enters the library, her skirt rolled up to be as short as possible and her black socks pulled high up to her knees. She’s always been one to show off her appearance, like her long legs or her voluminous blonde hair, although she typically ended up getting dresscoded by her teachers.

She spots you and grins, waving excitedly as she prances over to your table. “Hey love! Thanks so much for the help on such short notice. I only remembered the test, like, twenty minutes ago. I was like, oh God. I’m done for if I don’t study.” She rambles after she sits down, running a hand through her hair. You nod, trying to be an active listener but you’d rather be jumping out the window right now.

“And then I remembered, I don’t really know how to study. But now I have you!” Clara leans forward suddenly and throws her arms around you. You grimace as you’re forced into the embrace, trying to fake a smile as you breathe in her signature scent, marshmallows and vanilla.

“Right. Yep, that’s why I’m here… Heh.” You chuckle awkwardly as you pull away from the hug. Clara releases you from her boa constrictor grasp.

“Anyways. Are you going to the Halloween party Saturday night?” She asks, brushing through her hair with her fingers. “I didn’t even know there’s a Halloween party.” You respond, raising an eyebrow. “Of course there is! It’s going to be so much fun. You should come!” She pokes you in the arm playfully.

“I’m not sure… I don’t have a costume or anything–” Clara waves her hand, dismissing your concerns. “Excuses, excuses. You can make a costume out of anything in your closet. Don’t even stress about it, babe.” She pats your shoulder. “I’m here to help.”

“But where is the actual party going to be?” You ask confusedly. “In the student lounge, underneath the dorms, you know?” She explains. You picture the lounge full of students chatting and bustling around. It makes sense, the lounge is basically big enough to be a mini-library, with bookshelves and couches and various spots to sit and hang out with your friends.

You consider the idea. “I guess I could go… Alright. I’ll be there.” Clara gasps at your words. “Yay! Now, let’s think of an outfit for you, yeah?”

It’s safe to say that you and Clara did not get any studying done whatsoever. You tried to bring the topic back to medieval history, but it was no use. Clara chatted endlessly as she usually does, regaling you with riveting tales of her summer. You went home that night and scoured your closet for something that could be considered Halloween-ish. You settled on a tiny black dress and a black cat ear headband that some girl had let you borrow last year for theatre class. You guess you had just forgotten to give it back.

You walk downstairs Saturday evening, already hearing the laughter and ambience of the party. You have to admit you’re a bit anxious. You hardly know anyone at this school, and if you do, they probably dislike you because of your competitive nature.

But it seems cozy and warm, with a few candles and lamps lit, and a fire crackling in the fireplace. You awkwardly stand near the corner of the room, constantly pulling your dress down to make sure you don’t flash everyone here.

“Well, well, well. Look who showed up,” You turn to find the source of the voice, although you already know who it is. Farleigh’s tall figure stands in front of you. You try to figure out what he’s dressed as… He’s in all black, with slacks and a button-up long-sleeve shirt.

“Hello.” You answer dryly, narrowing your eyes. “You didn’t really commit to the bit, did you?” You snicker at his lack of a costume. “And you call that a costume?” He gestures to your outfit.

“Well, at least I tried,” You shrug and sigh, looking around. “I don’t even know anyone here.” You admit helplessly, leaning against the wall.

“Aw. Sad.” He chuckles and walks to stand beside you, also leaning back against the wall. “Seems to me like you don’t have any friends, either.” You reply, looking up at him. “Me? I- No, I have friends–” He pauses when he realizes he sounds stupid. “Yeah, I don’t.” He admits.

“Well, at least we have something in common.” You laugh at your embarrassing predicament. “Everyone is just so… Incompetent.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, here he goes.” You mutter under your breath. “What?” Farleigh asks, glancing down at you. “I’m Farleigh, and I’m better than everyone else.” You mock his voice, trying to make your own voice deep enough to match his. He rolls his eyes dramatically.

“First of all, that is not how I sound. Second of all, I don’t think that. Well, sometimes I do.” You scoff at his response. “So you are a narcissist?” You reply, looking down and fiddling with one of your rings.

“If you believe everyone is so incompetent, why are you talking to me?” You ask, wondering if you can get a reaction out of him again. He gazes down at you, going silent for a moment, his dark eyes illuminated by the dancing flames of the candlelight. “I don’t think that applies to you,” He says quietly, with some weird tone that you can’t decipher.

“So, you settled for the next best person after yourself?” You question. You both stand there, just observing the party, and eventually he replies. “Yeah, I guess so.” The two of you smile contentedly, and for the first time, you think you might actually enjoy his company.

You spend the rest of the evening chatting with Farleigh, with casual insults slipping into the conversation every now and then, or snarky remarks about classes or upcoming quizzes. Interestingly enough, Clara never stopped by once to greet you or talk with you. But, then again, what did you expect?

Yet somehow, she didn’t really cross your mind tonight. You must have been thinking about other things, or you were too wrapped up in your conversations with Farleigh. But you’ll never admit that.

#saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x you #farleigh saltburn #dark academia #academic rivals to lovers

[h0neytalk]

Practicing the Arabic Alphabet

I honestly lucked out so much taking Arabic in college and learning basic MSA reading/writing/grammar from an excellent professor but I’m gonna compile the most useful things we did in class here to help people learning on their own (this isn’t focused on resources, just strategies, might do a separate post with worksheets and videos but they’re pretty easy to find):

Get the alphabet in front of you. We had a packet with a page for every letter with the letter written in the three positions, pronunciations, names, and lines to trace and write like 100 times. And then a page with all the diacritics. These sheets abound for free online. Make yourself an alphabet packet. Watch copious videos/listen to recordings going over the letters and how they sound. Repeat it back. Work in chunks and don’t move to the next set until you can recognize and write the current set.

Tracing! Learn to write the letters right to left and with the proper order from day one. This sounds obvious but people in my class were still drawing letters left to right as isolated shapes next to each other so idk maybe it’s not. Having nice handwriting in Arabic is both satisfying and absurdly helpful. Learn how the letters connect. Spend more time than you think is necessary on this.

Write English words and sentences phonetically using diacritics and Arabic letters. Do not worry about translation and spelling. Just make the connection between shape -> sound. Use anything you have. Lists of names, entire pages from books and magazines, texts from friends, menus. Literally anything. Work through how to make those words with the new alphabet. You will learn a surprising amount about the language and pronunciation by doing this. How do you translate sounds that don’t exist? What about multiple sounds where English only has one? Read it back with the accent.

Transcribe English phonetically. Same as above but do it without the English in front of you and just listening. Make that voice to visual connection.

Hand write word lists once you get to vocab. Then type them on your laptop and phone (if you want to be able to type in Arabic, also highly recommend a keyboard cover with the letters next to the Latin alphabet). Copy all the diacritics even though that’s not necessarily how native speakers do it. I have a notebook that looks like it belongs to lunatic toddler because it just has the same words and snippets written over and over again lmao.

Finally, transcribe Arabic. If you can use something with a transcript or captions to check your work even better! But don’t check for perfect spelling, check you used mostly the right letters and marks. You will definitely smash some words together and miss a silent or elided letter or something but try and hear the difference between ع and ا or ق and ك etc. The more sources you use the better.

We did this for one full semester of 50 minute classes 3 times a week while sprinkling in some basic vocab towards the second half. It felt like forever at the time but I never lost my ability to phonetically read and write in Arabic despite 4 years of complete non-use while living in America in an area without any significant Arabic-speaking population or language presence. It is absolutely CHISELED into my brain.

#arabic langblr #learning arabic #ref #reference #langblr resources #langblr #language lessons #language resources #language learning #mine

[thepixelelf]

and the universe said,

02 "fuck you and your interview"

genres/tags: soulmate au, idol au, comedy, romance, dumbassery chapter warnings: language, mentions of a non-fatal car collision. reader is shirtless for most of a scene. if you wear bras and would like to, you can imagine reader in one. relationship(s): ot13 x reader

When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren't -- and that's before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

series masterlist

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It’s 300.15 Kelvin outside and you’re wearing a turtleneck and you want to die because the person on the other side of your soulmate phenomenon has never heard of shutting the fuck up.

“They liked you!” Heejun insists.

“Yeah, sure,” you groan, slumped over your kitchen table with your head resting atop your shut laptop. “Until someone started singing and my mark went all the way up to my freaking chin!”

“Okay but they didn’t dislike your mark—”

“No, they thought it was fascinating. So fascinating, in fact, that once they saw it, they forgot all about my dissertation!” You sit up, beyond frustrated, and tug off your turtleneck, throwing it onto the floor like it personally wronged you. The AC in your apartment just has to be broken, but it doesn’t matter anyway. The mark has returned to its home on the back of your hand.

Heejun doesn’t bother turning away or covering his eyes, having seen you in less.

“All they cared about was my stupid mark,” you whine, crossing your arms in front of you and making a sour face. “‘Oh, wow, I’ve never seen a mark like that before.’ ‘Are those music notes? Is your soulmate a singer?’ ‘Have you met them?’” Even though the words come out mockingly, you slump more and more as you repeat the questions you got berated with in your Zoom interview. “Fuck, I’m never getting a job.”

“Don’t say that. They might call you back.”

You sigh. “Please don’t get my hopes up.”

It’s been about two months since the soulmate phenomenon rocked the world, and that many days minus one since you found out your mark, which is already a proven miracle amongst the general population, is also special amongst other victims of the phenomenon.

“Oh, god.” Eyeing your arms, you groan. “Songbird’s at it again.”

Not only does your mark move whenever your supposed soulmate sings — it extends.

The bars, accompanied by notes and pianissimos and double fortes and symbols you’ve yet to bother googling, spread past the original mark and curl around your wrist, slithering up your arm like a snake through the grass. With your turtleneck strewn and abandoned somewhere on your floor, you and Heejun watch as the music climbs up to your shoulder and slips around your neck, circling twice before moving to your other arm. It’s like you’ve got two full sleeves of tattoos without the teeth-gritting pain that comes with actually getting it done in a parlour.

No, just a whole different kind of pain.

In the ass.

You can’t walk down the street without people gawking at you like you’re an alien — which, honestly, you can’t even blame them for. What the fuck kind of human has tattoos that snake along their arms as if they’re alive? Even Heejun can’t take his eyes off your mark, which has looped back up your left arm and started to wrap around your chest.

“Heejun!” You snap your fingers in his face, jolting him back into pay attention to me land. “I’m lamenting my current and probably eternal unemployment right now; at least pretend you hate this shit as much as I do.”

Shaking his head and frowning, Heejun tries again to console you. “C’mon, there’s no way they’d let the fact that you have a soulmate mark affect whether they hire you or not.”

“Tell that to my other two interviews.”

The staff branches off in some places, and you follow Heejun’s eyes as they trace the music reaching all the way up to your cheek. It does that a lot — the splitting up thing. You’re too sick of the mark overall to care to think about why.

“We should just find them,” Heejun posits.

You blink. “What?”

“I mean, the only way to get them to stop singing is to ask, right?”

Straightening up in your seat, you realize you never really thought about meeting the person on the other side of your mark. You’d been too caught up in the whole, what the fuck is happening why is there a random tattoo on me holy shit why is it moving what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck of it all. And besides, every case you’ve happened to hear from the news has ended up the same way — the soulmates met because their marks led them to each other.

You sort of just expected it to… happen. You never thought about going out to find the person inadvertently ruining your life yourself.

Heejun asks, sincerely, “You want to meet them, don’t you?”

“I… guess.” You shrug.

Do you?

The idea of asking them to stop singing — at least while you’re in a serious interview for a real-life, adulting job — is appealing, that’s for sure. The fact that they’re supposed to be the love of your life is also a factor, though.

You don’t know why, but that’s somehow less appealing to you.

And the weirdness that is the feeling of not wanting to meet the love of your life just yet (because who wouldn’t?) gives you pause.

Your soulmate stops singing, and the staff slinks back until it’s just five empty lines on the back of your hand. It’s a chilling feeling, when the notes disappear, and you shiver with your whole body every time. Another reason you’ve come to dislike your mark. Despite the annoyance the music sets off every time it spreads across your skin, you feel a dreadful sense of… emptiness when it leaves.

To feel that constant start and stop, start and stop—

It’s exhausting.

“Have you tried reading the music?”

“Are you kidding?” You scoff at Heejun. “I played percussion in junior high marching band, dude. I can’t even sightread; I’m hardly a music prodigy.” Scrutinizing your now-plain mark, you say, “Besides, how would that help?”

Heejun rolls his eyes. “You’re seriously dense sometimes. They’re always singing. Either it’s their job, or they’re trying to get your attention.”

“If they wanted to get my attention by annoying me, then they’re doing a bang-up job.”

“If they’re a singer,” Heejun continues, ignoring you. “—it’ll be even easier to find them. They’ll probably be singing all their own songs.”

You shake your head, doubtful. “I don’t think singers spend all day just singing their own stuff.”

“Idols practice all the time—”

“My soulmate is not an idol.”

“Why not?”

The look on Heejun’s face is serious, and you almost squirm under his gaze. Instead, you scrunch up your face and shake your head. “They’re just… not, okay? Idols aren’t my type.”

“Not your type?” Heejun regards you in such disbelief, you want to be annoyed again. “Bub, ‘idol’ isn’t a type of person, it’s a job description.”

“Yeah, and venture capitalists aren’t my type either.”

Heejun groans, but you can tell he won’t argue with that — he dated a business major in university. It didn’t go well.

Not that all business majors are bad, of course. That one just so happened to be a real bitch.

“Fine,” he relents. “Let’s assume they’re just trying to get your attention by singing nonstop— like now.”

Heejun points at your arm, and you look down to find your mark extending again to your infinite dismay. You let out a sigh.

“If they’re not a singer, maybe they’re singing songs with hints in them,” he suggests.

“That’s awfully elaborate, isn’t it?”

Shrugging, Heejun takes hold of your hand from across the table and studies the notes as they dance over your skin. “Your mark is elaborate. You don’t have it easy like all the others.”

“That girl almost hit her soulmate with her car.”

“Yeah, because the universe literally dragged them together,” he reasons. Then, “It’s weird…”

You pull your hand out of his just as the mark recedes, a shiver pulsing through you. “What’s weird?” 

“Nothing.” He nods at your phone, which is sitting face up on the table, lit with a notification, “You got an email.”

Not wanting to pry into whatever is going on in Heejun’s head, you grab your phone. You expect some random email from a newsletter you never subscribed to in the first place, but when you read the subject line, your eyes widen.

“Second round of interviews?!”

Heejun smiles wide. “See? I told you they liked you!”

“Oh my god. Dude. It’s tomorrow. Oh my god.”

“Yeah, yeah, stress head. Let’s go over the practice questions again.”

“I love you.”

He snorts. “No shit.”

⭒

Sitting in small coffee shop near where your interview — second round! — will take place in twenty-five minutes, you mutter the answers you practised with Heejun late into last night under your breath. You scroll through your phone, reading up on the company for the third time.

You can almost hear Heejun nagging you in your head.

Relax.

Letting out a long breath, you put your phone away and take a sip of your drink, eyes drifting out the window.

It’s a nice day, unfortunately. If it weren’t for the white turtleneck you’re wearing, you might be happy about the warm weather. You pray to whatever is out there that your antiperspirant is doing its job, because this is the nicest turtleneck you own, and you seriously don’t trust your soulmate not to break into song during your interview. You can only hope they don’t sing a full song today— your shirt will cover partial tunes, but who knows if your soulmate is actually cast in a musical, or something. 

Earlier, you set an alarm on your phone so you’ll know when you’ve got to get moving to be exactly seven minutes early, with three minutes of leeway in case you get lost inside the building. With that alarm in mind, you let yourself sink into the art of people-watching, zoned out and half-listening to the music playing in the shop. A song you know comes on, and you hum along. 

Ice cold something splashes across your back.

You flinch so hard, your own drink goes flying, and on instinct, you stand up. Whipping around, you turn to see the masked face of a man with an empty plastic cup in his hold, the lid squeezed tight in the opposite hand.

His eyes are as wide as dinner plates, which is wild because you’re the one drenched in iced coffee.

You have nothing to say except, “What the fuck!”

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updates for and the universe said, are not on a schedule. there is no taglist. thank you for reading!

#seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt ot13 x reader #svt x reader #svt scenarios #svt imagines #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua hong x reader #jun x reader #junhui x reader #wonwoo x reader #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #mingyu x reader #dokyeom x reader #seokmin x reader #the8 x reader #minghao x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon chwe x reader #dino x reader #lee chan x reader #ot13 x reader

[sharedramblings]

Headcanon:

For Halloween, Larissa likes to go all out with her costumes. Sometimes she shape shifts, other times she just puts something on. One year she wore a black cat kigurumi and said she was twinning with her cat, Agatha.

And you're right!! Larissa would go all out for Halloween every single time. She takes it seriously, feeling and embracing the Halloween spirit. Personally though, I can't see her voluntarily wearing a kigurumi (had to search what it was) all by herself but!! If it's the theme or the motif however... then I feel like that's another story. 👀 Gonna keep the rest (aka the longer version of this text) under the cut because I got carried away 😅

—-—-

Everyone who works with or meets Larissa knows the woman is dedicated. In every party, competition, or event, it's simply a given fact that if there's a theme, then she will adhere to it. And that's what she's been doing for all the parties held in Nevermore, the annual Halloween party included.

She alternates with wearing a costume she bought somewhere, checking the little details to ensure it's the closest thing possible to her chosen ensemble that year. Or she puts her shape shifting abilities to use, delighting in the shock faces the faculty and students wear when she walks inside the hall as a heavily known artist, or performer, or a well-known person in the outcast community.

There's exactly one month left before the yearly Halloween party, and the theme hasn't been finalized still. So to shake things up a bit, Larissa asked the faculty to spread an online form to the students, asking for their preferred theme for the party. Whatever theme emerges with the most votes gets to be the final motif, but it will all be monitored, of course, to filter out any inappropriate suggestions. One week will be allotted to collecting ideas, and another one week for the voting.

And then the news spread out, students were only allowed to submit one suggestion, the faculty checking the form to finalize the options for the poll. After clustering and organizing, the students are then asked to pick one they'd like, and lo and behold, one particular option has won by a big margin: a kigurumi-themed halloween party.

Larissa raised her eyebrows when the voting time ended. A what theme? She has no idea what that was so she looked it up, her eyebrows shooting up even higher to her forehead on the images that flooded her laptop screen. A soft-looking one piece garment, designed to resemble a cartoon character or an animal. That's what the majority of the student population chose.

That was... one interesting outcome to all of this. The principal chuckled, baffled, she supposed she should have seen this coming. But there's no time to undo it all, and going against her own words wouldn't result in anything good. And so with the lingering feeling of incredulity still in her, she asked the teachers to disseminate the winning choice.

The theme was a glaring contrast to the dark one they had last year, and the air around the academy was buzzed and charged after the announcement. Most of the students were excited about picking their costumes, while there are a few who begrudgingly chose whichever. The same goes for the teaching staff, some teachers choosing the most adorable kigurumi to wear for the party.

Larissa, of course, has spent most of her free time searching for her own costume. She wasn't about to be the person who would break out of the motif. Because if she, the headmistress of the academy herself, would not commit to the bit, then it's a solid trail for everyone else who would rather not participate.

The amount of time the principal spent on surfing and looking for a costume that she likes to wear is absurd. Just about any kigurumi she saw is either too cute or too colorful for her liking. With a frustrated groan, she decided to rest her eyes for a while. That's when Agatha, her black cat, decided to grace the woman with her presence, climbing in her lap and rubbing its head in the principal's stomach.

Larissa smiles down at the cat, petting her on the chin, earning a satisfied purr in response. "Hi, my darling girl. Planning to help me with my Halloween outfit?"

The cat, seemingly understanding the question, stopped purring to answer. "Mrow"

That made Larissa chuckle a little before an idea forms in her mind. "That's right. Thank you for your input, Agatha." She went to pet the black cat again, before it decided it had enough, walking away and out of the principal's office, planning to roam around the campus once more. Larissa finally made up her mind.

The week before the party was hectic, especially for the staff and students who volunteered to form the committee. After days and days of hard work and effort, the day of the party finally arrived.

The hall was transformed into a tasteful and colorful palette of party decorations, the table cloth and foods complying with the palette as well. As the students and teachers mingled around in their own kigurumi, the whole thing looked like a huge slumber party. In the crowd there are a few people in a stitch costume. There's also tigger and piglet from winnie the pooh. Cartoon characters from monster inc, and pokemon, and many other movies and series. While there are also some people in animal costume design. A koala, bears, dinosaurs, a fox, bunnies, and even magical creatures like unicorns and dragons.

However, the students, aside from the committee, have yet to see their ever punctual principal. It has been a habit to look for her at some point in a party, curiosity piqued for the headmistress' outfit. Minutes later, the hall's door opened and walking in is the woman herself, wearing an all black cat kigurumi, accompanied by none other than Agatha, her cat who has been also dubbed as the academy's honorary pet. Larissa hadn't worn the hood yet, her intricately done silver hair updo contrasting with the clothing.

Giggles out of giddiness could be heard around the hall, the students couldn't contain their reaction to seeing their elegant, statuesque principal in a onesie. The sight is adorable, especially since some of them doubt that Larissa would still follow through.

Enid, in her wolf kigurumi, gleefully walked towards the principal with a question in mind despite the obvious answer. "And what, or who might you be, Principal Weems?"

Larissa humored the question, carefully pulling the hood up in place, the cat ears attached standing visibly, "I'm Agatha's twin." Pointing to the already disinterested cat walking away.

The blonde student squealed then, only expecting to be told that the principal was indeed a cat, and not at all coming as her cat's twin, gushing about how cute that idea was and shouting how it's nice to meet both Little Agatha and Big Agatha tonight, making the motive of the costume known to everyone (and Larissa being jokingly called as Big Agatha the whole night).

The party committee, after giving out the prepared trick-or-treat goodie bags that are packed in a plastic pumpkin bucket for those who complied with the theme (which is a great tactic to make everyone follow the decided theme), assembled everyone in the quad to take a picture, commemorating this year's Halloween party.

—-—-

Author's note: Thank you so so so much for this! As you can see, I really enjoyed it and decided to ran away with it. This was so fun and really had me going, and I hope it's alright that I absolutely rambled on and on with your headcanon (I'm not sure what response I should be doing, so hoping this is okay). I hope you enjoy this as much as I did, Alicia. Thank you for sharing this with me!

#chromium-siren drops by my asks #larissa weems

[thirteenemeraldcats]

Answer the questions and tag five fanfiction authors you know!

tagged by the terrifyingly talented @kvetchinglyneurotic and the impossibly incredible @sighonaraa

1. How many fandoms have you written in?

One! Uno! Eins! All of the ridiculously emotionally evocative writers in the Ted Lasso fandom completely broke my brain and launched me into the undiscovered country (fic writing).

2. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Since January, so about .3 years 🤗

3. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Definitely read. I am perpetually mentally exhausted in my free time and usually can't concentrate enough to write. That being said I also haven't had much time to READ fic lately. So. Help???

4. What is one way you've improved as a writer?

Hmmmm. I'd say embracing the draft process? When I started writing fic (OH SO LONG AGO I KNOW) I was very 'this needs to be good' and now I'm appreciating the 'this needs to be FUNCTIONAL' mindset more.

5. What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Definitely not weird BUT I did accidentally fall down a research spiral for ONE WORD in 'i learned to walk while he was away'. For context: I am not Jewish, but I head-canon Roy as Jewish and there is ONE LINE that references this in that fic. I wanted to double check if there was any significance to the different spellings of Hanukkah, lest I accidentally step on a cultural landmine. Cut to a day later where I'd fallen deep, deep down an equally enjoyable and educational rabbit hole about Jewish holidays, (fostered my ongoing vendetta against the English language,) and found a Jewish bakery that's local to me because I wanted to try Challah very badly. (It was great.) (There is not a large Jewish population where I live [in case that wasn't obvious] I'm blaming my now-semi-remedied culture blindness on that. But Em, you took an elective on world religion in University? SHUT UP I KNOW.)

6. What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

ANY COMMENT. I made an ao3 account last year because I wanted to not lurk quite so much, stop being a 'consumer' of fan-creations, and LEAVE SOME COMMENTS. And I'd seen authors talk about how great getting them was but holy guacamole nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of people liking something I wrote enough to leave a comment or a heart or an 'ah'.

7. What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Errrrrrrr. I guess just gen-fic? Looking at the numbers of ship-fic in the archive, it certainly feels fringe-esque to write gen.

8. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

I was going to say 'short' because things just keep happening when I try to write succinct outlines (somehow NONE OF THOSE 'THINGS' ARE PLOT), but after applying a bit more scrutiny to anything I've ever written; it's action. Fast-paced action. I don't know her.

9. What is the easiest type?

Assorted emotional whacks! When I was writing original fiction a solid decade ago as a teen-bean I favoured physical-whump, me now has found it a lot easier to write emotional-whump. Not sure why??? But here we are. (Either way someone's suffering.)

10. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

Okay this is actually a very involved story that I might tell later, but I just changed what platform I was using. SO! As of about a week ago I've been writing on google docs. Beyond that, it's a laptop/couch combo whenever I have the brain power (which is almost never 😭).

11. What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

OOOF. There are a few wips in the assorted-mountainous-pile of non-active development that are. Heavy. Heavier than the various fics/wips I've published/am actively poking at. I'd like to write them one day but I am also very 'hmm' when I look at them.

12. What made you choose your username?

So 'Em' is a real-life nickname, smash that together with my love of the colour green and tada! You get 'emerald'. 'Cats' is about... cats. I am obsessed with the little creatures, despite never owning one. (Initially I spelt it as 'kat'- no idea why??? I think I just like the letter 'k'???? Potassium?????????? B A N A N A???????????????) And 'thirteen' is my favourite number, just because I find the concept of a number being considered 'unlucky' hysterical and the idea that some airlines genuinely leave out a row thirteen because of superstition always makes me grin like an idiot. The order is purely because I like the image of a bunch of green cats running around together.

I have done a quick investigation and everyone I know has either already done this or already been tagged. (I have once again shown up two days late with iced-coffee to a tag-game. [At least I showed up, I forgot to do like three of these things despite loving them, I'M SORRY 😭])

If anyone sees this and they HAVEN'T been tagged, consider this your green-for-go flag and feel free to tag me as your tagger.

#THANK YOU BELOVEDS #feel very lucky to have stumbled onto this corner of the internet/fandom/world(??) full of such amazing people #always grateful for you all #tag game #writing tag

[cosmicstarlatte]

DiaLevi Shitposting #1 (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

»Tags: ⚠️NSFW, Shitpost/Humor, DiaLevi

Words, WORDS!

Levi (on his laptop): -Shaking Dia excitedly- "Another sub!?"

Diavolo (concerned): "I would never! I don't want another sub!?"

(Lucifer in the background slamming the snack tray on the floor while the other brothers try to hold him back)

Levi (screaming): "SUBSCRIBER! SUBSCRIBER DIA!!!"

Diavolo (laughing): "Oh! My mistake!"

Study Session

[Study group at home]

Lucifer: "What do you think is the most valuable thing in the Devildom?"

Mammon: "Money"

Levi: "Land"

Satan: "History"

Asmo: "Population" 

Beel: "Food"

Belphie: "Levi's ass"

Belphie and Satan: (High-Fiving)

Lucifer: (Excuses himself to go murder Diavolo)

Study Session Pt. 2

Diavolo: "Barbatos, who's knocking?"

Barbatos: "It's just Lucifer at the door again."

Diavolo: "Well bring him in!"

Barbatos: "No I think not. He has that look again."

Diavolo: "Oh. 🥺"

Nights

Diavolo: "Keeps me up all night."

Lucifer: "What does?"

Diavolo: "Leviachan."

Lucifer: "We're done here."

Just a few headcanons from my DiaLevi collection lol.

#obey me incorrect quotes #dialevi #obey me dialevi #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me diavolo #obey me brothers #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs #obey me shitpost #obey me humor #crossposted on ao3 #◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹ #shitpostcifer

[syn4k]

He sat in his chair in front of his newly minted desk with a slight stretch upwards, facing the shining planks and gentle orange glow of the rest of house. A well-worn pen lay on the surface of the desk, next to a new notebook and a small cordial of black ink. Out of a small leather pouch came a small box, inside which rested a nib, which was then screwed onto the pen in place of the old one.

After months of travel, Pixl figured he'd take the long way round with his journaling tonight.

He hadn't had much time to jot things down ever since he'd shown up here- between running from spiders, trying to cobble (hah) enough diamonds together to craft a pickaxe, running from spiders, and visiting the Nether to make some horribly time-consuming roof tiles, he'd been a bit busy. But new worlds were always lots of work, after all, and he'd thrown himself into the hustle and bustle of getting started so many times that the routine was more like supple leather: worn and familiar, the actions practiced and almost a dance.

Ah. There his mind went, wandering again as it often did when he wasn't able to access a pen or paper or (more commonly) a reliable power source to plug his laptop or phone into. Some worlds didn't even *have* electricity as Earth knew it- redstone was just a crude spark of magic dust to them, but he'd gotten lucky this time. At least he'd be able to actually contact people without resorting to magical means.

The pen hovered over the paper, words momentarily forgotten, and with a sigh Pix set it to the paper and starting writing.

"June 6th-

The long gap between this update and the last has an actual explanation this time: I've finally found the world that Fwhip sent the details of, after weeks of getting lost. Walking out of time and space is really weird. I got there in the end, though, hence the new journal and the first entry.

It seems the universe is not done with Pixl the archaeologist, not yet. I arrived- (fashionably) late as I often am) -not in my regular outfit, but something very close to what I'd worn in the second world of Empires. I've discovered that I can pull some rather strange and downright improbable things out of gravel, including lapis lazuli, carrots, and once an entire cake that I refuse to touch. Shelby says it tastes fine, with a faint aftertaste of dirt. I have not asked why she knows what dirt tastes like, nor will I because I do as well.

This world is populated with most of the people who were on Empires but with a couple new faces as well. I'm familiar with Scar, of course, but I've heard of Owen- a pilot who crash landed here and is on a quest to get an origin of his own beyond human. Sausage told me that, and also cheerfully informed me that he blew up the poor lad's camera. I'll have to figure out how to make a new one and also inform him when we inevitably cross paths that being human isn't quite a bad thing.

I myself have spent the past few days seperated from contact with the rest of the world, though, busy running around and gathering samples of literally every cool looking rock I could get my hands on and unfamiliar fauna, including Nether reeds- the lava equivalent of sugarcane- and proceeded to spend the next three days weaving it into roof tiles. No regrets.

I know I'll be here a while, so I've gone ahead and built myself a nice little house on a stony outcrop. It has four wings with things like tinkering tables, my desk, a loft with my bed, and of course, the front door, because I'm not interested in phasing through walls. Again. That was a difficult month and a half.

That's about everything, I suppose. I've been building for two days. I'm going to go to bed now and probably sleep in."

The journal snapped shut with a satisfying thock, glass dinged as the cap was screwed back onto the jar of ink, wood creaked as two feet climbed the ladder, and then the little house was silent for the rest of the night and well into the morning.

#ray's tag #mcyt #nlsmp #pixlriffs #writing #gods. so excited for this. new life smp let's GOOOOO BAYBEEEEEEE #also im removing the readmore because this isnt very long and i've decided that everyone needs to see this #keys' writing

[cipher-fresh]

clark kent headcanons/how I’d put my own spin on him

-Clark didn’t get powers until he was three or four years old. Completely unable to tell he was an alien before then.

-Krypto was in the escape pod with him, and Clark’s first word was babbling Krypton because his parents said it so much. He eventually forgets about this entirely and they just have a dog named Krypto. Clark and Krypto were wrapped in a red Kryptonian blanket. Otherwise, Clark has 0 memory of Krypton

-Clark knows he’s ‘weird’ for a while but isn’t told he’s alien until he’s at least 10 years old.

-No way Clark isn’t a sci-fi nerd. He really resonates with half-humans half-aliens in fiction, even if that’s not exactly his situation. He also has a fascination with astronomy and outer space.

-When he’s a teenager, the Kent’s find out he can’t see through lead. They put some lead in a pair of Jonathan’s old glasses so he stops X-raying things when he doesn’t want to. He has to lower his glasses to X-ray or use heat vision (Like in Lois & Clark: TNAOS). Clark tries on Jonathan’s glasses and Martha makes a comment about how his face looks different. Later on, Clark depends on this with showing his face.

-The Superman suit is styled after Kryptonian outfits. (I love the strongman inspiration from Superman Smashes the Klan but in a 21st century interpretation, I don’t think it works). Clark’s first cape is the blanket he was wrapped in as a kid, but when he upgrades his suit he saves the blanket in the Kent barn. And, of course, his mom made his suit.

-Clark not wearing a mask as Superman so people trust him is canon in most places, but on a similar note, he decides red and blue for the suit so people can see him in the sky, and feel confident he will save them from whatever the danger is.

-Clark generally thinks of himself as human and primarily as Clark Kent. Superman is a thing he does in his free time, it’s not his main identity. He can feel insecure in his humanity or about being an imposter, but for the majority of time, he thinks of himself as human and will sometimes forget he isn’t.

-Clark doesn’t immediately fall in love with Lois, it’s not love at first sight. It takes a while but then he realizes he’s crushing, hard.

-Clark can’t afford a car, and he has told every Daily Planet office member a different lie about how he gets to work every day. He combats writer’s block by flying up into the clouds with his laptop and writing. He makes sure to recycle and keeps up-to-date with environmental news.

-He will laugh, grimace, frown and make other faces for no reason- he’s hearing conversations from around the planet. He’ll laugh at a joke being told in Canada and then the next day look down at the floor in second-hand embarrassment hearing people sing off-tune. Clark can also be genuinely clumsy sometimes, it’s 20% of the time an act and 80% not.

-Clark will fly to clear his head when he’s stressed. He’s gotten spotted doing that in Metropolis with so many helicopters and drones, so he’ll go higher into the stratosphere or into less-populated areas if he has a lot of time to be alone.

-Clark doesn’t need to sleep, but he does usually every night. It helps him emotionally. If he’s stayed up for a week or more, he’s stressed about something.

#Clark kent #Superman #Dc #headcanons

[chaotic-super]

Live With Me - Chapter 20 (The Final Chapter)

Read the full fic on AO3 here!

Kara hums thoughtfully, prompting Lena to turn her head toward the reporter working tirelessly on her laptop at the kitchen island.

“What is it?”

“I’m just going over the list Cat compiled of all the main conspirators of the government subterfuge, and I thought I knew all of these people inside and out because of all my research, but there’s a name here that I don’t recognize.”

Lena frowns, her eyebrows knitting together as she stops putting the dishes away so she can move to peer over Kara’s shoulder. “What’s their name? Maybe you just can’t remember.”

Kara pins her with an unconvinced look, her lips pouted a little in annoyance. “You think I would forget someone after spending as many hours as I have pouring my soul into this research?”

Lena rolls her eyes at her fondly as she presses her lips to the crown of Kara’s head before settling her eyes on the document strewn across her keyboard. “Which name?”

“This one.” Kara taps just below the name in question.

“Veronica Sinclair. Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in quite a while.”

“You know her?”

“Knew.” Lena corrects. “I’m not surprised to see her name on a list of corrupt people though. Last I heard, she was running a cock fighting ring and a cock fighting ring.”

Kara frowns. “You said that twice. It’s the same thing.”

“No.” Lena raises a brow. “It’s not.”

“What?” Kara turns to look into Lena’s eyes, and when she does, she finally understands. “Oh! Oh…only one of those is illegal though.”

“Well, it’s not considering the fact that in both cases, the losing cock gets put down.”

Kara’s eyes grow wide. “And she got away with that?”

“She’s always gotten away with terrible things. She’s vindictive too. I’m surprised she didn’t manage to slip through the cracks this time. It’s a wonder she’s even shown up on this document. I knew her in boarding school, and she ratted out every girl who so much as looked at a joint, but she was the heaviest smoker there and never saw the inside of the detention hall.”

“Of course. One of those people.” Kara grimaces, staring at the name on the page with disdain.

“Pretty good kisser though.”

Kara’s head whips back at Lena. She’s greeted by an amused smile. “That’s not funny.”

“It is. I love it when you get a little bit jealous.”

“I’ll make you eat those words later, baby.” Kara murmurs.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Lena leans in to kiss her softly before she pulls back and clears her throat. “Anyway, what document is that?”

“It’s the list of all the people who either already sponsored the plan for the hell facility or people who had commitments to it.”

Lena’s eyes furrow as she reads through the list. “Most of these are heads of companies or are from mega-rich families. They’re not all government officials. That makes me think they planned for it to go private after a while.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning all the people on this list were doing it for money. They were willing to experiment, torture and probably kill people for a buck.”

Kara shakes her head. “I wish I could line them all up and punch them in the face one by one.”

Lena squints at her. “That’s…ok. I think they’ll get their just desserts anyway, darling. Most of these people have either been arrested or demoted to such a low level of power that they’d have to beg for change to buy jumper cables if they want to experiment on anyone.” 

Kara hums. “High population area and they might have enough within a couple of weeks.”

“Maybe don’t take that analogy seriously.” Lena chuckles, squeezing Kara’s shoulders before she steps away to finish putting the dishes away. “Are we still going to CatCo today?”

Kara starts shuffling the documents into a neat pile. “I think so. Cat wants to have a little party to celebrate the end of this nonsense. She’s convinced that now the government is having a major reshuffle, all of our focus, and the world’s focus, will be on that rather than everything that happened. It’s over.”

“I don’t think it’s something the world will forget.” Lena offers.

“I know, it’s too big to be forgotten. I guess it just makes me feel a kind of way knowing that all of this crap can happen and the world moves on. Just like that.”

Lena sighs. “I know. The good part of people moving on is that there’s no longer a flock of reporters and photographers outside our front gate though.”

Kara tries her best to suppress a smile, but it springs free, full of fondness. “That is a good thing. It means we can have more privacy now.”

“Privacy or privacy?”

“Both.”

“I think I need a demonstration.” Lena smirks.

Kara stands and stalks over to her, bracketing her arms against the counter on either side of Lena’s hips. She leans in until her lips just barely brush against Lena’s. “Later, baby. We’ve got to get to CatCo.”

And then she’s gone.

Lena blinks, shocked by how quickly Kara just retreated. She’s definitely going to get her own back at Kara later. If she can feel her legs after Kara’s had her turn anyway.

-

“To all of the wonderful staff here who have worked tirelessly on this case, I thank you.” Cat holds up a champagne flute slightly above her head. “And to Kara Danvers, the lead reporter on this case and our new Editor-in-Chief.”

Kara stares at her in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth open unattractively. “What?”

Cheers surround her, followed by the clinking of plastic champagne flutes and loud slurps. Lena wraps her arms around her waist and gently taps her chin, prompting her to snap her mouth shut. “Congratulations, darling.”

“I’m…what?”

“You’re the new Editor-in-Chief. The contract is on your desk; please sign it by next week, although I would prefer you do it today so you can get it to Tina in HR before she goes on Maternity leave. I wouldn’t say I like her replacement very much. Too many teeth.”

“What does that even mean?” Kara shakes her head. “Wait, why am I being promoted to Editor-in-Chief? There are people here with more experience than me.”

“But nobody with more dignity and integrity,” Cat says with a rare, genuine smile before she hugs her loosely. “Congratulations, Kara. I would offer you Snapper’s old office, but I have a feeling you’d like to keep your own.”

“Well, with all those lovely memories of us keeping each other company in there, how could I leave it behind now?”

Cat almost snarls as Kara brings up their office-sharing sessions. It doesn’t matter how big the office is, she’s never sharing a space with anyone again if she can help it. “I still have nightmares about it.” She turns on her heel and stalks away. This champagne is far too cheap for her. She’s got some nice scotch in her office she can drink instead, and she’s not sharing with anyone.

Lena squeezes Kara tightly from behind. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Lena, I’m the new Editor-in-Chief.”

“I heard.”

“Lena, I’m going to be in charge of a load of people and I’ll get to choose all my own stories.”

“I know.”

“Lena, this is amazing.”

“It’s incredible. You’re incredible.” Lena whispers in her ear moments before Nia comes running over with the world's biggest grin to come and congratulate her.

-

“Have I ever told you that I have a thing for bossy women?” Lena gasps as Kara pins her against the wall just inside their front door.

Kara ignores her for a moment, continuing to ravage her neck until Lena’s fingers curl into her hair just a little too tightly. “What?”

“I like bossy women.” She reiterates.

“I was the least bossy person ever when we met,” Kara argues.

“You were in spirit.” Lena tries to connect their lips, but Kara leans back.

Shaking her head, Kara can’t wrap her mind around Lena’s words. “Did you not like me when I was still just a nervous cub reporter?”

“I loved you,” Lena reassures her. “But I loved it when you stormed into my office every now and again with that air of arrogance I’ve only ever seen a couple of times before. It’s what really solidified my feelings for you.”

Kara groans. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize my appointment was for the Wednesday, not the Tuesday. I thought everyone was just being a bitch and not letting me up to see you.”

“I know. I loved it.”

Kara burrows herself back into Lena’s neck, huffing until she decides to give herself something to take her mind off it. She latches her mouth back onto the sensitive skin of Lena’s neck. “You’re a menace.”

“Thanks, but can I be a menace in the bedroom? This isn’t the most comfortable.”

Kara pulls back and smiles darkly. “I’ll meet you there. I’m going to get us water; we’ll be in there for a while.”

Lena pulls herself together enough to stumble to the bedroom. Kara’s going to be the death of her tonight, and she’s certainly not complaining about it. She gets into the room and doesn’t think twice before she starts pulling off her clothes until they’re all in a heap on the floor, a problem for tomorrow.

She sets herself up on the bed, sitting up against the pillows, her eyes closed and her ears straining to listen out for Kara.

Kara makes her wait, and Lena’s sure she does it on purpose. It doesn’t take long to go into the kitchen and then come upstairs, but the time it takes Kara to do exactly that feels like it drags on for eternity. It’s torturous and she’s sure that Kara knows that.

When she finally slips through the door, she has water bottles balanced in one hand and a bottle of wine with two wine glasses in the other. She sets them all down on the nightstand with a flourish, barely even looking Lena’s way the entire time, a fact that infuriates the ravenette.

Lena clears her throat, but Kara still doesn’t look. “What’s wrong, baby? I’m getting you a glass, don’t worry.”

She clears her throat again, and this time, Kara turns to her, a full glass held out to her, looking her dead in the eyes. That’s nice and all, but she’d really prefer if she’d look at her boobs.

“Thanks.” Lena reaches over and takes it before settling her eyes on the wall. Two can play that game. She takes a long sip of the wine, humming softly. “This is good. Perfect for celebrating.”

Kara nudges her way onto the bed, crawling over Lena until she’s straddling her waist. It’s then that Lena realizes that Kara didn’t bother pouring herself a glass of wine despite bringing herself a glass.

“Are you not having any?”

“I was going to, but why would I do that when there’s something so much tastier right here?”

Lena gasps as Kara grinds her hips down into hers. “You’re going to play dirty, aren’t you?”

“Me?”

“You.” Lena hits her with a pointed stare.

“I’m a perfect angel, I’d never do that. I’m totally not just getting back at you for what you did to me with the crossword puzzle and for trying to make me jealous.”

Lena groans inwardly. It’s one thing for Kara to be in control, it’s another to have Kara be in control when she’s being petty. She’s going to suffer, and god, she’s excited.

“Well then, little miss perfect angel, you look thirsty, why not take a drink?”

Kara eases off her to stand beside the bed. As she slowly reaches behind her to unzip her dress, she smiles playfully over her shoulder. “What’s the rush, baby?”

Lena’s not giving in. “I’m not rushing. Need help with that?”

Kara sits on the edge of the mattress to allow Lena to snatch the zipper of her dress and slowly ease it down. “Thanks.”

Taking another drink of her wine, Lena’s eyes don’t leave Kara as the dress is shrugged off, leaving her in her underwear, which are also quickly discarded. Her eyes are instantly drawn to the scars on her stomach and back, but not because they’re ugly. Of course not. No part of Kara will ever be ugly. No, she stares because they’re just a sign of how hard Kara fought to stay with her, to not give in when death came knocking. She’s here to stay.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Kara’s act drops momentarily as her chin drops to her chest, her skin flushing a light pink that makes her look far too innocent, a stark contrast to the filthy plans she has for them.

Lena pats her bed beside her, expecting her to come and settle next to her. Kara has other plans though. She stalks around to the bottom of the bed before crawling up the mattress slowly, parting Lena’s legs as she goes until she’s got them wrapped around her hips and their faces are level.

“Hi there.”

“Hey.” Lena’s voice comes out raspier than she intends, but Kara’s eyes darken at the sound, and she’s not about to complain about that.

“Take a sip.” Kara urges her.

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to want to be hydrated. We wouldn’t want you to get a dry throat with all the moaning you’re about to do, would we?”

Lena has to suppress a moan at the thought. She downs the rest of the glass and shoves it onto the nightstand beside the bottle before shuffling down further on the bed, letting her head rest against the pillows. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I will, don’t worry.” Kara seals the promise with the world’s filthiest kiss, all teeth and tongue.

Lying beneath her, Lena just takes it, enjoying every ounce of passion Kara is feeding her and allowing her to taste the wine on her lips and tongue, giving her something to have in mind when comparing her taste against the other wonders of the world.

Kara leaves her breathless before trailing her mouth down her pale skin, the remains of her lip gloss smearing across her chest on the way to her favourite pair of twins, the ones she struggled so hard not to look at earlier, all in the name of teasing. Now, she gets her chance to get properly reacquainted with them.

She licks over one nipple before taking it in her mouth, sucking gently for a moment before switching to the other one, not letting either be neglected for long.

Tangling her hands in Kara’s hair, Lena urges her further down, impatient to feel those lips where she really wants them. The sexual tension in the car from them trying to keep their hands off each other on the way back in the name of safety was enough foreplay for her. This is all just pure torture now.

“Kara, please hurry the fuck up.”

She feels Kara’s lips curl up against her stomach. “Well, that’s not a very nice way to ask for what you want.”

“Kara…” Lena whines.

“But you did say ‘please,’ so I guess I can let it slide.” Kara kisses just below her belly button before she lowers herself down fully, her mouth finding her pussy much quicker than Lena was expecting, forcing her to inhale harshly.

Kara gets right to work, her tongue lashing her clit and her arms stretched up so she can tug her nipples.

Lena’s fingers remain buried in Kara’s hair, not to pull it or direct her, purely to keep her doing what she’s doing, to beg without begging.

Kara hums against her. “Fuck, I was right. You taste a thousand times better than the wine.”

“You never even had a proper taste.” Lena gasps.

“It’s no contest. I don’t have to have a proper sip to know.” Kara brushes her off, eager to stop talking so she can get back to what’s important, namely, Lena’s pussy. She hums happily as she tastes the delicious wetness waiting there for her, and she knows she isn’t about to go easy on her. This isn’t going to be some slow and sensual lovemaking. This is Kara showing Lena who’s boss. This is fucking. Celebratory fucking, but fucking nonetheless.

Lena’s head falls back as fingers make themselves known, gently prodding around until two slip inside her like they were made to be there. Her back arches as Kara starts thrusting them before Lena can even wrap her mind around the fact that she’s being filled.

“Jesus motherfucking Christ.”

“I never knew Jesus had a middle name.” Kara jokes with a grin, annoyed when she peers up to see Lena’s reaction but finds her with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. “Now, now, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes I love so much.”

Lena is unaware of anything other than those fingers pressing inside her so nicely.

“Lena,” Kara says, this time adding a little more weight to her words, the contrast prompting Lena to answer.

“What?”

“Look at me.”

Lena shakes her head.

Kara sighs, slowing her fingers to a stop. “You’re being a little brat tonight. Look me in the eyes or we’re done for the night. I’m not playing games with you tonight. Don’t you want me to have a good time? After all, we are celebrating my promotion.”

Lena whines at the loss of movement and the disappointed pout on her girlfriend’s face. She could handle it if Kara looked mad or annoyed, but she doesn’t. She’s just disappointed and that hurts. Even in the abyss of her overwhelming need for Kara to stop driving her up before stopping for annoying reasons, she needs that look to disappear.

She stares down into Kara’s darkened blues, noting the glisten of her chin where she’s soaked from how needy she is. “Ok, ok.”

“Say please.”

Lena resists the urge to roll her eyes and just force Kara’s mouth back onto her clit. “For fuck’s sake, please. I’m begging.”

“Whatever you want.” Kara grins up at her sweetly. Too sweetly.

Whilst maintaining as much eye contact as Lena can manage, Kara ravages her. Her fingers slam home in time with harsh sucks and nibbles, sending her careering into her first orgasm of the night.

Through it all, she desperately wants to close her eyes, throw her head back, and just feel. That’s not an option though, not tonight. Kara’s eyes are locked so firmly onto hers that it feels like it would be a crime to stop looking at her.

Kara doesn’t stop after the first orgasm; of course she doesn’t. It would be a crime not to give her at least two. She’s earned that much over the course of their endless battle against the bad guys trying to do bad guy things.

“Holy fuck.” Lena is finally forced to look away as a third finger slips in beside the other two slick fingers. “Jesus, Kara.”

“Look at you getting all religious on me.” Kara teases, her voice muffled because she refuses to move away from the wetness that tastes better than even the best-tasting wines. Even the wine good old JC made from water can’t have tasted this good.

By the time her second orgasm has overtaken her, Lena’s relaxed so far into the sheets that she’s sure she’s become one with them and given the fact that she’s just as wet as them, she should probably be thrown in the laundry alongside them.

“No more.”

“You don’t want to come one last time for me, baby?” Kara pouts, her fingers easing out of her pussy as gently as she can so they can ever so tenderly rub against her clit in soothing little circles. “Just one more?”

Lena pants heavily. Her clit feels like it’s on fire, but by god it feels good. A tiny nod and a barely whispered “one more” has Kara refocusing on her fingers as she crawls up the bed to settle beside her, watching her every reaction as Lena lowered slowly over the edge this time, abseiling to her orgasm and taking in the wonderous view as she does so.

Lena cums and she’s pretty damn sure that Kara’s going to be looking smug for at least the next week. “I don’t know if I love you or hate you.”

“I know which one I’d prefer it be.” Kara giggles, wrapping her arms around the brunette firmly, knowing just how much she loves the steadying weight after sex. It grounds her, and Kara’s more than happy to be her anchor.

“I love you.” Lena tilts her head towards Kara, her eyes closed and her lips pouted, ready to receive a kiss she has no doubt is coming.

Kara leaves lingering kisses against her lips before whispering. “You better not go to sleep on me. If you think I’m not turned on after all of that, you’re very wrong.”

Lena lets out an undignified snort. “I’m not going to sleep. I’m trying to remember how to work my legs. Lucky for you though, I still know how to work my tongue. Fancy a ride, Ms Editor-in-Chief?”

“Hell yeah.”

-

Lena traces her fingers over Kara’s arm softly. She lets her nails grace her skin just hard enough to be relaxing but not so soft that it tickles her. She shifts slightly in the fresh bedding, her eyes peering through the dark room, well-adjusted from long minutes of silent staring.

Kara shifts slightly. “Can you pass me some water please?”

Lena hums softly, stopping her fingers so she can turn to the nightstand and grab the single water bottle now sitting there half-empty. “Here.”

Kara takes a large gulp before offering the rest to Lena, who shakes her head softly. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You should drink. I don’t want you to be dehydrated.”

Lena’s eyes fill with tears. She’s already hypersensitive from the night’s activities and the rapid highs and lows of the past few months; this just feels like her tipping point. “I’m ok.”

“Ok, if you need me to get another later, let me know.”

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“Let’s get married.” Lena hadn’t planned for it to go like this. Or for it to happen at all right now. She’s known for years that Kara is her person and the only woman she could ever marry, but this is not the time nor place she imagined she would do this. She’s not taking it back. Not when she’s never felt such conviction with anything she’s ever said in her life.

“Ok.” Kara shrugs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but Lena?”

“Hm?”

“You’re going to repropose tomorrow somewhere romantic and never tell anyone you proposed to me in bed after we fucked each other’s brains out.”

“I am.”

“You are.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

For more fics and exclusive content, check out my Patreon here!

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#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #fanfic #cw supergirl #supercorp endgame #supercorp fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl fanfic #supergirl cw #fanfiction #chaoticsuper

[fieldofdaisiies]

Ultima Ex Nobis | epl.

-all rights reserved-

Nessian AU word count: ~500 words warnings: mentions of bad mental health summary: Six years into a global pandemic which was caused by a mass fungal infection that turns hosts into zombie-like creatures and makes the whole of Prythian collapse, the former army general Cassian Cadell is tasked with one very special mission – escorting Nesta Archeron, one of the few immune survivors, across a post-apocalyptic Prythian to a group of people of the name L. Their identity  is unknown but they can make an antidote.

masterlist

“There she is!” Cassian grins and passes his wife the green smoothy he made this morning. “You looked absolutely gorgeous and way too sexy and breathtaking in there.” He kisses her softly, their lips part and his second kiss is a little more passionate. “How do you feel?”

Nesta takes a sip from her green drink and sighs loudly, her other hand sliding into Cassian’s. Her sunglasses hold her hair back and late afternoon sun warms her skin. “Amazing, my love. And you?” She grins up at him while Cassian leads her down sidewalk to their shared flat. Their shared flat where they would later this day welcome their whole family. “Never felt better.” Cassian grins up at the sun before pressing a kiss to the side of Nesta’s head. 

At home they prepare some meals, but Lucien and Elain offered to bring most of the food, as well as the desert. Feyre said that her and Rhys would bring the salad and so Nesta and Cassian just prepare drinks and starters. “And you are sure we are going to tell them tonight?” Cassian asks as he wraps his wife into his arms and rest his chin on top of her head. “Yes!” Nesta answers happily. “I really want to. Especially before the bump starts to show and everyone anyway knows.” She grins when she leans back and lifts her gaze to Cassian, beaming up at him. The former general leans down and kisses her forehead. “Cassian Jr.”

To that Nesta laughs loudly and smacks her hands onto her husband’s back. “First of all, we don’t know if it is a boy and secondly, we are not going to call him Cassian Jr.”

He raises a brow in challenge and kisses her nose. “First of all, I know it will be a boy and secondly, why not?”

They laugh and joke until the doorbell rings and Cassian goes to open it. Feyre and Rhys are here, as well as Azriel and Eris, perfectly on time as usual. And just as always Elain and Lucien will be a little, only ten to twenty minutes, late. This time Nesta also invited Gwyn and Emerie, they have gotten quite close while distributing the antidote among the population of Prythian. That was five years ago and when Nesta thinks back at the time, her heart both cries and laughs. It was a terrible time, with so much pain and loss and hopelessness. But she met Cassian. She met Azriel, Eris, Gwyn and Emerie. People she could now not imagine not having in her life. Cassian is the most important one, her anchor, her husband and soon-to-be father of their first child. She still can’t quite grasp the luck she had in finding him and thanks God every day for bringing him into her life, for giving them a chance for a happy life. A happy life they now have. One that both deserve and have been longing for for such a long time. 

~~~~~~~~ tags: @helhjertet @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @crushedcloudsx @brekkershadowsinger @girasoli-e-sorrisi @ignite-me @swifti-ed @cassiansbigwingspan @burningsnowleopard @headcanonheadcase @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop

#nessian #nessian au #nesta archeron #cassian acotar #acotar au #acosf #acotar

[numetaljackdog]

sos

my number one skill is never shutting the fuck up ever and indeed in many circumstances it's more of a curse than a blessing because i genuinely can't control it for the most part but it does come in handy including throughout the entirety of my academic experience as well as just about every desk job i've ever had because it means i can fill a lot of space with a vast quantity of words that scan with a great deal of clarity and cohesion despite ultimately saying very little over the course of that volume. the result of this is that those who are reviewing my writing, which are usually people with varying degrees of power over my continued success, scan the content i've generated and deem it to be of high quality because everything seems well-thought out and competently composed and so they give it an instant pass, at least as long as they aren't paying too much attention, which - spoiler alert! - pretty much nobody ever is. they've all got their own shit to worry about, things that matter far more to them than whether or not you ended a sentence with a preposition in your 10-page report for a course that they're already sick of. now, what i did just there was a little trick where i actually violated my own natural cadence and patterns of writing in order to include a little gag! in the sentence where i mention the concept of ending a sentence with a preposition, i did just that; the sentence ended with "of." but for me, i normally would have phrased that sentence as follows: "they've all got their own shit to worry about, things that matter far more to them than whether or not you ended a sentence with a preposition in your 10-page report for a course that they're already sick of teaching." if this were actually a report with a word count minimum, obviously i would include that final word at the end of the sentence, because getting all cute and meta with the way i phrase things isn't worth losing that extra word of length. but in projects where the minimum requirements are more lax, i find it's helpful for my motivation to allow myself to have a little bit of genuine fun with it and liven the place up some. of course, that only applies if you're like me and you're a massive nerd who has fun doing that sort of thing, but i would say that there's a pretty decent chance that is true about you, seeing as how you're on tumblr dot com, a website that has an observably quite high population of huge nerds, and also you're presumably following me, which means you've identified with my nerd self enough to choose to see more of my blog. for what it's worth to you, my external keyboard seemingly ran out of battery several sentences ago, which is really kind of funny when you think about it. what an ironic time for that to happen, as i'm discussing and demonstrating my ability to type forever and ever! this is the first time i've had the battery in this keyboard die, so it must have had fresh ones in at the time i got it. i wouldn't know for sure, because i got it secondhand from someone i know who was clearing out some old inventory from their workplace's office building. that's where i got my big external monitor, as well. i really like tech appliances but honestly i really don't know much about them, that was never my area of expertise. as is likely obvious from this post alone, my passions have always remained more with the humanities. good god i have to stop now before i give you my whole fucking autobiography but i think by now i've sufficiently proven my point - i could easily do this until the end of time.

i have to create a new block now because of tumblr's character-per-block limitation. the one last thing i'll tell you is that, since i'm now typing on my laptop's keyboard which is at a somewhat awkward angle from me, my wrists are in danger of mucking with the trackpad, and just a few moments ago i accidentally selected the entire wall of text i've typed here and replaced it with what i was continuing to type. so thank goodness for the tumblr post editor's ability to undo, or else nobody ever would have seen this very intellectual and not at all frivolous and annoying post that i've generated here. if you actually read all of this, you're a huge freak and i'm proposing to you right now.

#*char noises*

[beardedmrbean]

SHEFAYIM KIBBUTZ, Israel − They exchanged text messages and emojis. Brief status updates with words of encouragement. A picture of the beloved family dog "Tutsi."

Until no more messages came.

And then, Cindy Flash, an American, and her Israeli husband, Igal, vanished into the violence, presumed kidnapped by Hamas.

Four days after Hamas attacked Israel, more than 100 Israelis and potentially dozens of foreign nationals are thought to be held captive in the Gaza Strip. At least 14 U.S. citizens have been killed and an unknown number are still unaccounted for.

Flash, 67, originally from St. Paul, Minnesota, is one of them. She lives in Kfar Aza, a kibbutz in southern Israel near Gaza, where some of the most harrowing and grisly stories have been emerging during the last few days.

"They are breaking down the safe room door," Flash said in one of her final messages to her daughter Keren, 34. "We need someone to come by the house right now." She had been communicating with her parents from a few houses away.

Keren described her mother, who worked as an administrator in a local college, as someone who had the "sweetest biggest heart," who everyone knew and loved, and who had spent a lifetime advocating for the rights of Palestinians, including those who live in Gaza where she may now be held.

She emigrated to Israel decades ago after a visit during college, when she fell in love with Israel's system of kibbutzim − collectives traditionally centered around agriculture, but which have evolved to accommodate myriad interests, tastes and even businesses.

"They didn't deserve this,'' her daughter said Tuesday on the grounds of a sprawling hotel and resort located on a coastal kibbutz northeast of Tel Aviv, where hundreds of people affected by the Hamas attack temporarily evacuated. "No one deserves this."

It was filled with volunteers bringing sandwiches and sweet cakes. Sobbing teenagers, reunited after several days of having their worst fears confirmed, hugged each other tightly. Small groups of people sat at tables hunched over laptops devising lists of the missing. A manager said that about 300 people from Kfar Aza were staying at the hotel.

Before the attack, Kfar Aza had a population of approximately 800. Nobody knows for sure how many survived.

An Israeli home next to the Gaza security fence

Cindy and Igal's home in Kfar Aza sits right next to the security fence Hamas broke through on Saturday morning as they attacked Israel by land, sea and air.

They had recently renovated it, requiring a move away from the kibbutz for a few months.

"They were so happy to be back," said Keren.

And their daughter said that despite their proximity to Gaza, everyone in the family had always felt secure and reveled in their area's lush vegetation, tranquility and sense of community.

In fact, the extended Flash family had expected a very different Saturday than the one they got. _________________

hope she's found safe

They had planned a family picnic. And later that afternoon they were going to make and fly kites in the local soccer field as part of an annual community event. Maybe, they thought, they'd eat a little ice cream. Try to relax after a hectic week of family life and work. A DJ was going to play.

Instead, Keren, a pilates instructor, and her husband Avidor Schwartzman, 37, a media consultant, woke abruptly around 6:30 a.m. to a blaring Kibbutz alarm system and heard what appeared to be the sound of bombs going off. They lept out of bed and dashed down the hall to grab their one-year-old baby, Saar − as well as her bottle, diapers, water, a little food. Then, they locked themselves in a room of concrete and reinforced steel.

Around the same time, Cynthia and Igal, 66, locked themselves in their own safe room and the sounds of bombs gradually turned into the sounds of automatic gun fire as Hamas encircled Kfar Aza and began going house to house to hunt down its residents.

"We started losing contact with so many people on various WhatsApp groups," said Keren, who along with Avidor and Saar, was eventually rescued by Israeli security services. ''We would hear that they were wounded and then they would just drop off completely."

Israel media reported Tuesday that the bodies of 40 children and babies were found in Kfar Aza, some of whom had been beheaded. An Israel Defense Forces spokesperson said Kfar Aza was a "massacre." The bodies of civilians and militants were found scattered throughout the rural kibbutz. He declined to comment on the beheadings. One report, which USA TODAY could not independently verify, said there were multiple beheadings and that charred bodies were also found. The Israeli death toll from the Hamas attacks has passed 1,200.

Not giving up hope that her family will be found

Neither the U.S. nor Israeli authorities had been able to provide them with any information about where her parents might be, Keren said.

But she had not lost hope they would be found.

"Any time someone calls us, any authority from the kibbutz or anywhere, our hearts sink down and then they say 'we don't have any new information.'"

Shaylee Atary, 34, another Kfar Aza resident, spent several days coming to terms with this feeling as well.

She last saw her husband Yahav Winner, 37, on Saturday as he barricaded a window of their home to allow time for Shaylee and their one-month old daughter Shaya to flee their home.

'A signal that I should run'

"He kept saying to me this is not the day we are going to die," Atary said.

"We could hear the attackers walking on the grass outside the window," she remembered.

"There was a crunching sound because the leaves have started to fall down because of the season. We couldn't talk because we didn't want them to hear our voices, so we were signaling silently to each other. And then, as they were breaking through the window Yahav looked at me for a quarter-second, he didn't say goodbye, but I understood that it was like a kind of signal that I should run."

She fled first to some nearby bushes, and then to an empty garden shed.

And running, for Atary, is hard because of a car accident that has made it difficult for her to walk. She was also carrying Shaya, preventing her from moving quickly.

As she hid in the shed, Atary found a hammer and screwdriver, which she put in her pockets. She put some old pots on her and Shaya's head, who was − miraculously − asleep.

But then the baby woke up and began to cry, which attracted the attention of the attackers. She could hear them walking toward her. She feared they would just shoot into the shed indiscriminately.

"I knew I had to run again," she said. "But this time, it was a decision, not so much an instinct. So again I fled and when I reached a large grassy area that is in the middle of our kibbutz I thought 'well, maybe this is how I die despite what Yahav said.'"

'Don't be a hero'

Moments later, a family with small children sheltering in their home saw her and ushered her inside, risking their lives. She stayed in this safe room for the next 27 hours, without food or water, and as the oxygen in the sealed safe room dwindled, before they were rescued by Israel's military.

"Yahav is a very protective," she said of her husband. "He's also smart. I believe he probably surrendered to allow us to escape."

Late Tuesday the news finally came. Yahav's body had been located.

"In my head now, I tell myself that when he looked at me what he was saying was: 'Shaylee, you are with the child. I'm holding the door. Go'," she said.

"Then I think, why didn't I say: 'Don't be a hero. Come with me.'"

#nunyas news

[brostateexam]

For years, science and conventional wisdom have stated unequivocally that looking at a device — like a smartphone, tablet, laptop, or television — before bed is akin to lighting years of your natural life on fire, then letting the flames consume your children, your community, and the very concept of human progress. Simply Google “screens before bed” and you’ll find thousands of articles, many from higher-education institutions and furious British people (they seem the most worked up about this issue as a nation). The message is clear: The blue light emitting from your devices is destroying your natural melatonin reserves, altering your circadian rhythms, and making you ugly. Watching TV or TikTok before bed is giving you headaches and making you confused, leading to depression, diabetes, cancer,and early death. If your offspring opt for the same crutch, they will never achieve greatness.

However, according to national polls and anecdotal evidence from nearly every single person I know, this information has not significantly altered behavior. In 2011, nine out of ten people admitted to using a device before bed, a TV being the most popular (60 percent),and this was before the quantum timeline split and we all had to grapple with living inside a grad student’s thought experiment on populist fascism. In 2020, 66 percent of people admitted to sleeping with their phones. And while it’s true that more than one-third of adults report “not getting enough sleep,” that means two-thirds are getting enough sleep. In other words, most of the population is likely mainlining blue light before bed while sleeping fine. Ask British people to explain that!

#long reads