#I LOVE THIS TYPE OF STORY IDEA AND HUMOR A LOT

[dohwaesu]

reparations

PAIRING ▸ park jongseong x witch!fem!reader

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), crack, fantasy kinda(???) 

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, um jay is a dog, dog has phone it makes sense yes, pairing is more of a Dynamic

SUMMARY ▸ in which jay is a dog.

SCHEDULE ▸ sporadically. i am unpredictable like my smaus

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ reparations for puppy kindergarten!!!!! no tag list im just rawdogging this 

Keep reading

[8housevenus]

3rd house placements and your voice!

hii, i wanted to do more of a light & fun themed post that goes over the kind of voice you have, the type of communicator you are, and other things as well according to your 3rd house placements. if you do not have any placements in your third, check out the house ruler and apply it accordingly, ex; my third house is ruled by pisces, apply the neptune features to it!

sun in 3rd house - talk about thinking out-loud!! sun in 3rd people are such great communicators, they get things across loud and clear. never ones to hold back, natural conversationalists, and you have a voice that often sounds younger. when you talk it's heartfelt and you feel that half-assings in conversations is just not you! sometimes, your age is mistaken due to your lengths of knowledge and the ability to express your inner child through your interests. you use your hands often when you speak! often have such a memorable voice and this placement is a strong indicator of being a music artist too; justin beiber, jay z, drake, britney spears, all very household names and all are always getting their voice impersonated by other people interestingly enough!! there's versatility that spews through these people, not hard at all for them to improvise, standup, debate, etc. can be gossipy though and involved in dramas very easily because of this.

moon in 3rd house - mental clarity goes crazy here. your emotions give you all the drive you need- creatively and you don't hold back on that. they intellectualize their emotions and can formulate feelings into words very well. the kind of voice they have is much softer, eloquent, and comforting. they're the kind of people that send you a voicemail and you listen to it over and over again because it's endearing. "say it with your chest," type of people, as the moon is mostly fixated in the chest-stomach region. they have a good discernment of their environment, walking analysts, know when to intervene, etc. celebrities with moon in 3rd; jennifer aniston, megan markle, margot robbie, etc.

mercury in 3rd house - very fast-paced talkers, versatile in the way they communicate. also uses their hands while they speak, has a witty and sarcastic tint to them when they speak. often very humorous people and naturally highly innovative. for these people ideas flow into them at fast rates, often giving them plenty of projects to work on. placement of high intelligence, and great at mirroring. "excuse me, may i interrupt," types of people. love adding on to others and i notice with 3rd house mercuries as they get older, they do become a lot quieter and keep ideas to themselves. celebrities with this include; jim carey, nikola tesla, stephen hawking, etc. (like i said super wise and funny thats a dub for sure)

venus in 3rd house - first thing that comes to mind is glamorous voice. often times they talk about their love-lives (yes they always have the craziest stories about others or themselves in love). just like the sun, these people have a notable voice too. one that can even get them famous. often these people have strong followings, or crowds that really like listening to them. highly influential and lowkey some party heads. might have some commitment troubles, but other than that they have good projecting voices- soothing, and has good posture too. celebs with this; cristiano ronaldo, taylor swift, kris jenner, etc.

mars in 3rd house - i like to say they have some of the most electric voices ever. seriously. they know exactly how to spice up conversations and they move a lot when they talk. they inspire others to take course of action, usually very good individuals at gaining crowds as well, but what differentiates venusian people and mars people- is the attitude. mars gain people's attention through their eccentric-ness. other people find mars in 3rd house bundles of expression, always on the go and actually very good manifestos. usually has raspiness and deepness to their voices because they tend to shout a lot. celebs with this; miley cyrus, harry styles, katy perry, etc.

jupiter in 3rd house - these people have a love for languages. usually very diverse linguistically, and always the guy that knows a guy. very good at developing acquaintances in their environment. usually has more high-pitched voices, slow and even sensual, but clear. they like knowing a bit of everything while they can. sometimes, these people can attract things out of thin air, and receive many comments on their voice or abilities to make their life experiences sound a lot less gruesome than it really is. kind of in their own little world and has open demeanor. often times you see these people unexpectedly associating with others that "make no sense" for them or in environments that "make no sense for them". side note: the biggest struggle these people will face is people trying to mold them to be somebody they're not. they love to expand wherever they can. celebrities with jupiter in 3rd; lana del rey, lionel messi, jim carey, and gordon ramsey.

saturn in 3rd house - mean big business ok!! let me tell you, these people are amazing at using their environments for their endeavors. they're very humble speakers, reserved and kind of talk when asked to. they are great at explaining principles of underlying things, usually seems older than what they really are. they stick to one thing at a time, and they are actually easy to read while talking to them. their body language is more telling than their words sometimes. watch a saturn in 3rd house's jaw clench when they are stressed, or crack their knuckles while thinking heavily. celebrities with this placement; steve jobs, kylie jenner, bjork, zoe kravitz, etc.

uranus in 3rd house - "you can't outdo the doer," is what i get from this placement. highly intellectual people, makes significant shifts into the world. when they speak, they're actually very good at impressions, get told they don't look like how they sound, or will attract many "haters" because they challenge status quo mentality. they will never stand down when communicating their deepest interests. they seem quirky & nerdy, however highly reliable and feels a strong sense of "these people need me." as they become older, they are more cherished, while they are younger they might seem air headed. their voices are so unique to them, that you cannot easily be reminded of them by others. they are completely in their own lanes. one of a kinds. celebrities with this placement; albert einstein, elon musk, celine dion, michael jordan, etc.

neptune in 3rd house - has a deep understanding of the environment they're in. they are very quiet and timid. these people really like to connect to people based off their souls and not their physical forms. and when they speak, they have a genuine tone and strive for genuine connection. sometimes, these people think many people they cross paths with are meant to make them feel good, feel bad, question, etc. highly accepting and others can admire this person too. seems ditzy, but on the inside is a whirlpool of feeling and emotions they sense. sometimes they can get abnormal praise, simply for the way they express themselves. i notice with these people they love to make facial movements when speaking, like very dramatically sometimes. you can always tell when these people are nervous too, watch how many times they shake their feet to soothe themselves. always seems very introspective wherever they go. celebrities with this placement; al pacino, leonardo dicaprio, beyonce, kendrick lamar, etc.

pluto in 3rd house - bringing pluto into this mix, wherever they go they love to change what they can in their environments. they want to change things for the better, and usually really find interest in talking about things that isn't so typical in conversation. they are very serious people when in discussion. they hate to say a lot without leaving impact. these people will sound much older and have a profound tone. often they bring the collective darkness to a collective lightness. i notice they love using metaphors, talking in 3rd person, and dropping their egos a lot in conversations. makes undeniable changes to societal norms or social structures. these are life changers and add some humanitarianism to everyday encounters, really love dropping a lot of their own lore too! celebrities with this; angelina jolie, martin luther king, adam levine, kylian mbappe.

thank you so much for skimming through this i appreciate it as always, let me know if you relate, disagree etc. super interesting in seeing what you think, let me know if u want me to do more like these <3

[sailorrhansol]

TRICK OR TREAT!!!

fuck, i love this concept.

sour skittles + ghostface + the craft, pls 🤲🏻

(smut is always welcome, although i know that is highly dependent on whatever it is i just chose, lmao)

❀ Pairing: Vernon x afab reader

❀ Summary: Vernon has been one of your best friends for years. Shy, quiet and calm, he’s always been a steady rock for you. He has no idea you’re in love with him, but that’s neither here nor there. After a strange series of events on Halloween night, Vernon seems a little… different, and the new version of him both terrifies and thrills you. 

❀ Word Count: 21,558

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, Thriller

❀ Type: Smut, Angst

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, recreational drinking and smoking, crude humor, some of the members of SVT are a bit of an asshole in this - it is not a reflection of how I think of them, mentions of occult practices, a NOT ACCURATE spirit summoning/ritual, mentions of a murder suicide case/event, mentions of murders, light mentions of blood, mentions of infidelity, catching someone in a sexual act (not the main couple), Vernon is a bit of an asshole at times, mentions of insecurities/confused feelings, I owe Chan and Mingyu an apology for how I wrote them, sexual tension, some angst, sexually explicit content including thigh riding, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, a lot of biting and scratching, choking/breath play, vaginal fingering, a lot of spit and cum mentioned, unprotected sex, references to sub space, Vernon takes a dom role but it is not explicitly established, Vernon gets a little bit possessive, calls reader a slut a total of one time, some light finger sucking, reader is at several points annoyed with the women in this fic which can come off a lil bitchy, general creepy scenes in woods and in some dark spooky places. 

❀ Additional Content Warning: It is implied by the end of this fic that Vernon is possessed to some degree by a spirit in this. I make zero distinction as to whether it’s Vernon or the spirit calling the shots or if there is even a difference/distinction between the two, which poses the fair question of consent in parts of this that I do not address or provide nuance to. The lack of clarification is due to the POV of this fic being entirely from reader’s perspective and she doesn’t have a clue what’s going on until the very end, and thus we are unable to unpack to what degree this character is or is not himself. If that lack of nuance bothers you, that is valid but this is not the fic for you. 

❀ A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble. This was supposed to be a drabble. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE. Anyways, Jade my beloved you got Vernon + Friends to Lovers + Slasher and honestly it’s less slasher and more supernatural so I actually totally apologize but I leaned too far the other way I’m so sorry soifsdiofjdfiogj I love you love all the specific easer eggs for you and also show you to Jade because they specifically helped me write the Mingyu ‘graveyard smash’ line thanks bye

❀ A/N 2: Alternative summary for this fic is Hali repeatedly drags Chan because she loves him so much 

❀ Reader Notes: This reader is never explicitly gendered as girl/she/her etc. so I have listed them as an afab reader. 

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliween

Cool wind lifts the pages of your book, threatening to flip them over. You press your fingers flat to the page, fighting to keep them from flitting over and losing your place in the story. There’s not much daylight left in the sky as the afternoon dies to make way for the evening, but you’re eager to finish the chapter, craving to unravel the mystery you’ve been working your way through the past week. 

Atmospheric sounds play in your headphones as you read. Your legs are crossed, book in your lap as you sit on the concrete wall separating the quad from one of the sidewalks on campus. Now that there’s a chill in the air, you crave being outside, finding the opportunity to sit wherever you can on campus to crack open a book before the sunlight finally fades. 

Flipping the page, you only get a split second warning of the shout you hear through your headphones before something hits you in the back of the head. You yelp, dropping the book to the ground as your headphones clatter from your head to the grass from the impact. 

Scowling, you swivel around to see Mingyu jogging over, his hand over his mouth as apologies start pouring out of him. A flush creeps up your neck as he approaches, his friends and fellow fraternity brothers watching from afar. Some of them are bent over cackling, the others have their hands on their head, visibly stressed from hitting you with their football.

Again. 

“I am so sorry,” he pleads, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Seungcheol threw wide.” 

“Maybe play on a rec field, then?” You snap, sliding from the wall, picking up your headphones and book. You kick the football toward him, irritated. “There’s literally so many other places you can play. Don’t you have a yard at your little frat house?” 

“It’s being used for float building for the Halloween parade.”

“Convenient.” 

For the most part, Mingyu isn’t so bad. He’s a little loud and obnoxious, but he’s always nice and he does seem to mean it when he picks up the football and apologizes again. It’s more than a lot of his fraternity brothers would do, though it’s not much now that they’ve managed to hit you twice with the same ball. 

Someone like Mingyu wouldn’t even pay attention to you if it weren’t for Vernon, though. As Mingyu retreats, the reason you’re even friends with Mingyu appears on the sidewalk, coming toward you with his hands in his pockets, hood pulled up on his head and headphones on. He lifts his chin in greeting to Mingyu, but Vernon’s brown eyes focus on you, his true destination. 

Vernon pulls his hood and headphones down when he’s within a few feet, jerking his thumb at Mingyu. “What did he want?” 

“He was apologizing for hitting me with the football. Again.”

“Again?” 

“Yeah. They hit me earlier.”

Vernon hums, displeased. He doesn’t say much, instead turning to lean against the wall, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets again.

The last embers of sunlight hit his side profile, stunning you to momentarily silence. In a halo of fiery light, Vernon looks like a god. His light brown eyes turn burnished gold, reflecting the dying sun. His hair is spun copper, strands dancing in the breeze as he watches the world around him. 

Not for the first time, you think that you understand why Helen of Troy inspired a thousand ships to come after her. Vernon’s face is the kind of thing you’ve read about in all of your mythologies and folktales for your Occult Studies major, so beautiful that it can’t be real.  

If Vernon notices you staring, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes watch the other members of his fraternity play football, one of them crashing into someone on a lawn chair. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath, wearing his second-hand embarrassment silently as he watches them apologize for the millionth time. 

Vernon is nothing like the rest of his fraternity. You’re still unsure why he even joined. It was something he had done his freshman year going into school, wanting to put himself out there and make friends. 

He certainly looks the part - he’s handsome and in shape from playing soccer in highschool, and he’s got good fashion sense for a college student. But he’s quiet and a little awkward, unsure how to navigate conversations with most people who aren’t in his immediate circle of friends and shy to an almost crippling point. 

It had taken Vernon seven weeks of being your lab partner before he finally spoke more than three sentences to you. For the longest time, you’d assumed it was because he thought you were beneath him. It wouldn’t have surprised you. Greek life on campus tended to stick with their own. 

Now, you know it was because he didn’t know what to say or how to start a conversation. You’d only managed to get him to talk to you when he noticed a song by Frank Ocean bleeding from your headphones, piquing his interest. 

Four years later, talking to Vernon is easy. Well, maybe not easy. You’ve got years of friendship between you now and you know what makes Vernon tick, but the butterflies you get when you’re around him and the way your heart swells when he does something so simple makes it a little harder. 

Like now, as day fades to evening and the world is awash in purple and gold, and he’s looking at the watercolor sky like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, completely unaware that while he’s in awe of the sky, you’re in awe of him. 

Vernon jerks forward, making you flinch. You have no idea what he’s doing until his hand is in front of you, smacking down the football that has been sent your direction again. You huff in frustration, watching as this time it’s Chan who jogs over to get it. 

“Are you all fucking serious?” You demand. He slows his approach, eyes darting to Vernon as though looking for help from his friend. Vernon says nothing, bending over to pick up the football and toss it to Chan. “I should shove that football up your ass.” 

“Maybe not the football,” Chan quips, catching it. He looks you up and down, head cocking to the side a little. His mouth lifts at the corner and there’s a glint in his dark eyes that makes you even angrier. “I’m open to other things, though?” 

“You’re so gross.”

“What? You’re hot when you’re mad.” 

“Go away, Chan!” You shriek, flustered and angry as you spin around to grab your things and storm off. You only get a few feet before realizing Vernon is still leaning on the wall. “Are you coming or not?”

He scrambles after you, nearly tripping over his own feet to catch up. Chan is snickering as he runs back toward where the others wait for him, yelling a trilling bye toward you and Vernon as you charge north toward the main campus parking lot. 

“He’s so annoying,” you gripe, shoving your book in your bag. Vernon hums, noncommittal. You glance at him. “Nothing more to add?” 

He lifts a shoulder. “It’s cause they think you’re hot, Lovecraft.”

You smile at the nickname, fondness sweeping through you. He’d started calling you Lovecraft your freshman year after learning about your major, deciding that it just fit. You like it - at least coming from Vernon, who understood Occult Studies was more than just spooky and magic and the metaphysical. 

“They think anything with a set of tits and a hole to stick their dick in is hot. I’m sure a blowup doll would blow their fucking mind.” 

Vernon’s mouth twitches at that. “You’d hate Chan’s room.”

“Don’t give me that visual!” 

His laugh is warm. He bumps shoulders with yours, grinning at you as the two of you walk. You feel the telltale sign of your traitorous heart beating extra hard at his closeness, your gaze shooting to the floor as you try to hide any evidence of your feelings that might lurk on the surface of your expression. 

Thankfully, Vernon never seems to notice. You’re glad that he doesn’t. You don’t think you’re very good at hiding how you feel, but he is equally bad at picking up on it, totally oblivious to the long stares and the way you fumble over your words when he gets too close. 

Vernon has that effect on a lot of people. His proximity to being attractive has always outweighed his inability to make small talk among the female population on campus. The amount of times you’ve watched girls openly flirt with him and whisper about what it would take to get him to crack was insurmountable. 

Autumn wind kicks up leaves at your feet. Neither one of you says anything as you walk, simply content to be together. It’s one of your favorite things about him, never feeling pressure to perform or to have conversation. Being with Vernon is just… easy. Natural, even. 

The parking lot is slowly emptying as the rest of the late afternoon classes end. A few unlucky evening class students pull in, slamming their car doors and rushing off to their auditoriums. Vernon’s car is easy to find and you let yourself in, sliding into the passenger seat like it’s yours - it kind of is. 

“Pizza?” he asks, engine humming to life. 

“Please.” His lips twitch in a soft smile as he nods, flipping on the radio. You hum, leaning forward and turning up the volume. “I love this song.” 

Vernon’s smile increases as you lean back, the sounds of Emotional Oranges filling the car. He rolls the windows down once he’s on the road proper, cool wind kissing your skin. You pull your feet up onto the seat, leaning toward the window as the fading twilight brushes past you. 

Outside the car, the world smells like pine. You take a deep breath in, loving the way the October air feels just right. Fall is always your favorite time of year, and with the music playing in the background, wind in your hair and Vernon drumming on the wheel, you don’t think there could be anything better in the world. 

Sal’s Pizzeria glows against the dark, a beacon of hunger and hope against the night. The giant pizza slice on the roof blinks rapidly, the neon a little bit broken. Gold light glows through the windows as you climb out the car, gravel crunching beneath your feet. 

A bell chimes as the door opens and a group of students pour out, laughing and carrying boxes. Vernon catches the lip of the door and holds it open for you, gesturing you to enter first. The smell of bread and warm air hits you in the face, your lips curving as you tell the girl at the host stand two.

College students and local residents fill the restaurant. The hostess leads you to a booth in the corner, the vinyl seats creaking under you as you hop-slide your way in. She hands you the menus, her eyes lingering on Vernon as she does, lips twitching when she asks if there’s anything else you need. When he doesn’t answer, you shake your head, shooting her a thin-lipped smile. 

She’s hesitant to leave but she does, casting one last look over her shoulder as she heads back to the stand. You look at Vernon too, studying him. He’s none the wiser, brown eyes scanning the menu even though you know he’s going to order the same thing. 

When the server comes, Vernon does as expected: orders a diablo pizza with a side of fries. You shake your head a little, asking for the white feta pizza, handing over the sticky menus. When the server is gone, Vernon leans back in the seat, sipping his coke as he drinks you in, wordless. 

You kick your feet up on his side of the booth next to him and he lets you, patting your ankle fondly when he sets his drink down. He has no idea how torturous that alone is, the simple comfort of his familiar touch enough to send your eyes averting across the room, trying to control your breathing. 

“What are the favorites and least favorites this week?” he asks, balling up the paper his straw came in. 

Favorites and least favorites is a game you like to play with him. It’s not so much of a game as it is a routine where you tell him your favorite piece of material from your classes and your least favorite. Most people dismiss your major as too peculiar for interest. No one knows what you’re supposed to do with Occult Studies but it fascinates you.

And Vernon, who has always had a keen interest in the goings on in your classes and homework. 

“We’re in the psychology of the occult module.” He nods, eyes fixed on you. “Mostly covering the psychology of community as it relates to the occult. We have sections on covens, clans, actual cults, sects and more modern mass followings.” 

“Hmm. So like… Twitter stans.”

You smile a bit. “Something like that. We covered the maenads in class today. Ever heard of them?” He shakes his head and you lean forward, elbows on the table. “They were women in Ancient Greece devoted to the god Dionysus and they were believed to be possessed by the god. They were said to have wild parties in the woods with one another where they’d do all manner of sordid things, all while under the influence.” 

“A Friday night for Chan.”

“Exactly. A lot of historians call them crazy and speculate they were raving mad, but if I was a woman under the thumb of men in Ancient Greece…”

“Shit, I’d get fucking crazy in the woods with my friends too.”

“Exactly. It was more about reveling in female companionship and being unfettered from the male-dominated societal norms.” 

The arrival of your dinner interrupts the conversation. Both of you lean backward, making room for the hot plates and Vernon’s basket of fries. You slide your feet down from his side of the booth, leaning to grab the red pepper flakes from the corner of the table. He grabs salt, immediately dusting his fries.

“Ugh, you could have at least let me have some first.” He looks up at you through his lashes, brows raised. “They’re already salted, Vernon.”

“Not enough.”

“You know, if you were haunted or possessed you’d never want the salt.” He gives a questioning hum. “Salt is used in purification rituals. It’s believed spirits hate it because it’s used in banishing spells and rituals. It’s why a line of salt keeps them out.”

“Good thing I’m hungry, not haunted.” 

You snort, taking a piece of your pizza from the tray. “Speaking of haunted, are we going to your Halloween party this weekend?”

“My halloween party?”

“You are in the fraternity, Vernon. Yes, yours.” 

He makes a face and tears into his pizza. You shake your head as he lets out a sound, huffing and tilting his head backward as he tries to deal with the too-hot food in his mouth burning him. “Ya,” he says around the slice. “I guess so.” 

“What are you going to wear?” He raises a brow at you, swallowing down the hot bite. You pout, sagging in your seat. “Dude, you have to dress up. You can’t just go in a black shirt and a baseball hat.” 

“Why not?” You kick him under the table and he winces, ducking down to rub at his shin. “Shit, fine. Okay, what do I go as?”

You grin, picking up your appropriately cooled pizza. “Leave it to me.” 

-

“This makeup itches,” Vernon mutters, looking up at you through long lashes. You hush him, putting the finishing touches on the black line down his mouth. “Couldn’t I have gone as something easier?”

“What is easier than black jeans and a jacket you already own, huh? Stop talking, I’m gonna fuck up this line and this makeup is perfect so far.” 

It’s true. You’ve outdone yourself on turning Vernon’s face into a skull, taking inspiration from American Horror Story for the costume. Vernon is a low effort kind of person, so getting him into costume is a lot easier when all it requires are clothes he already owns and makeup that you have to do anyway. 

Stepping away from him, you admire your handy work. His eyes are painted black, hollowed out for the skull. His dark hair is slicked back, the perfect skeleton. He looks… good. Painfully good, which makes you nervous and turn away quickly, heart flipping. You’re not sure what it says about you that Vernon staring at you while painted as a deadly skeleton makes your heart race but… it does. 

“How do I look?”

“Terrifying,” you admit, turning back to him. “But good.” 

He grins and if it were anyone else but Vernon, you’d be terrified. Maybe you did a little too good of a job. 

“What are you again?”

“One of the witches from American Horror Story Coven. Close your eyes, I’m going to use setting spray.” 

Darkness blankets the sky by the time you’re both scrambling down the steps and into an Uber. The driver does a double take when they see Vernon, eyes watching nervously in the rearview as you give him the address. 

“That’s at a closed down gas station.”

“Yep,” you agree, leaning back into the seat.

The driver mutters something about fucking college kids and fucking holiday but otherwise says nothing about the questionable location. He doesn’t need to know that a mile from the abandoned gas station is also an abandoned farmhouse notorious for unsanctioned parties and being distinctly haunted. 

Haunted isn’t your favorite thing in the world. You didn’t like to mess with ghosts, despite your area of study. You were infinitely more interested in the intersectionality of occult studies and modern culture and society and less enthused about the idea of drinking stale beer from a foamy tap in the middle of a murder house. 

If the driver thinks there’s anything weird about other people being dropped off at the gas station - you’re sure he does - he says nothing, ignoring the two of you as you get out of the car and dive into the night air. Vernon is close behind as you take a few steps away from the car, eyeing the old gas station.

The windows have long since been broken and cracked, foggy with time. The stations are stripped of their labels and stickers, just white residue left behind and no pumps. A few people lounge around the building smoking, dressed in a variety of halloween costumes. 

Nervous, you look up at Vernon. His smile is small and he juts his chin toward the dirt road that leads through the woods. Nodding, you both fall into step, sand and gravel crunching beneath your feet as you go. Vernon recognizes a few people associated with his fraternity and others, throwing a casual wave or a nod as you pass by people.

Music echoes down the road. It’s a little less foreboding in the dark trees when you can hear Michael Jackson’s thriller coming down the way and the dull roar of voices. The bend in the road straightens out, the line of trees giving way to flat land. 

The farmhouse is pretty, even in old age. It’s two stories, glowing from within from all of the battery lanterns and lights being used to light the party. A generator roars somewhere behind the house, light flooding the yard where people mingle and crowd the kegs. 

A chill slithers down your spine as you enter the yard, the broken gate doing a poor job at keeping trespassers out. Even with the lighting, shadows dance as you navigate through people, the strange anxiety crawling up your throat worsening as you near the house. 

Vernon pulls the sleeve of your dress so that you’re closer to him, his fingers steady and calm as he leads you up the steps where you can clearly hear Mingyu’s howling laughter inside. 

Bright light fills the house. As do a crush of people and beer pong tables, the abandoned home turned into a raucous display of drinking and debauchery. If you weren’t so distracted by the wave of people pushing you into Vernon’s arm, you might be impressed at how much you could forget the farm home was abandoned because someone had been murdered here. 

“I need a drink,” Vernon announces, continuing to pull your arm after him as he plunges toward what used to be the kitchen.

It’s where you find Mingyu dressed as a lifeguard - and loudly yelling directions. He blows his whistle shrilly when he sees you and Vernon, pointing at the two of you and spitting the whistle out of his mouth to scream, “NOT WET ENOUGH!”

“What a weird way to offer drinks,” you mutter. Chan, who seems to be on lifeguard assistant duty - while dressed in a horrid felt dinosaur costume - scrambles to get you drinks, spilling rum as he tips it over into a cup. “No ice?” 

“There’s not a fridge,” he pouts, shoving the cup in your hand. His eyes drink you in. “Are you a hot goth or?” 

Instead of answering him, you roll your eyes and turn to Mingyu, who blows the whistle again. Both you and Vernon wince, the latter throwing back his drink to chug it all before thrusting the cup back at Chan. “That’s gonna get real tiring.” 

Mingyu comes around the corner of the old island countertop, pumping his fists in the air to the music rattling through the house. “Vernon you look fucking sick!” He and Vernon do the little hand-clap-to-half-hug men do. Mingyu turns to look at you, eyes dark. “Are you like, a hot goth?” 

Your smile is plastic as the whistle around Mingyu’s neck. “Sure.” 

Mingyu, dancing and moving toward the living room, reaches out to you. “Come dance with me! This song fucks.”

“Decidedly not!” 

“Go ahead, Lovecraft!” Vernon urges, pushing you toward the obnoxious lifeguard with a shit-eating grin as he imitates Mingyu’s voice. “This song fucks.” 

Before you can chastise him for egging his fraternity brother on, Mingyu has you sucked into the dancing crowd, throwing his hands in the air as he swivels his way through the crowd. You try to knock back as much of the lukewarm drink as you can, cringing at the burn of cheap rum and not-iced coke. 

Bodies pressed in. Mingyu is close to you, a hand going to your waist. You frown and look over your shoulder, eyes scanning for Vernon. You know he’s probably lingering on the edge of the crowd, watching you with a smirk over the rim of his cup as he watches Mingyu roll his hips toward you.

“Mingyu,” you snap, turning back to him when you don’t find Vernon. “It’s the Monster Mash, it doesn’t require grinding.” 

“I mean, if you wanna graveyard smash…”

“You’re all insufferable! All of you!”

Still, you sway back and forth, trying to stomach finishing the rest of your horrid drink. It takes an effort, but shaking your head at Mingyu and judging him silently gets you most of the way through it until Soonyoung - dressed in the same tiger costume from last year - crashes through the crowd into the pair of you, thrilled when he realizes who it is he has slammed into. 

“Hot goth!” he screams, pointing at your outfit. “Where is your other half?” 

You don’t have to ask what Soonyoung means and both the drink and the accusation have you flushing. You shrug a shoulder, eyes surveying the party. Before either of you can find Vernon, Joshua appears at Soonyoung’s side, leaning to his ear to murmur something. Soongyoung’s face lights up and he grins at you, grabbing you by the wrist to yank you through the crowd. 

“Hello?” you demand, pulling your wrist from his grip. “Have you heard of asking?”

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“The last time I heard that was promptly followed by you showing me that stupid peach tattoo on your ass.”

“First of all, that tattoo is amazing.” He heads to the stairs, which you eye warily. “Second, Vernon is already upstairs, come on. You like weird ghost shit, you’ll like this.”

Without waiting for a reply, Soonyoung thunders up the stairs. You cringe, waiting for a foot to go through a dry plank and send him falling. It doesn’t happen, though. Tentatively, you creep up the stairs after him, eyes glued to each of the steps as you go. 

It’s colder upstairs, the windows in the rooms open to the elements. You shiver, looking down the hall to Soonyoung heading into a bedroom. You tentatively follow him, stopping at the threshold of the doorway to survey the people inside.

Vernon is one of them, back pressed to the wall near the window, his eyes focused on his boots in front of him, hands tucked into his pockets. A girl next to him dressed as Red Riding Hood is leaning close, speaking to him rapidly. Nothing on his face indicates he’s listening. Then again, his expression is hard to read while painted as a skull, mystifying and dark as you follow Soonyoung down the hall. 

Soonyoung goes straight toward a pile of things on the floor next to Seungcheol’s feet in the corner of the room. The president of Vernon’s fraternity pays Soonyoung no mind, eyes totally focused on the pretty fox in front of him, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. 

Suddenly, the room feels too intimate for you, like everyone is a couple tucked away. You have half a mind to go back downstairs when Vernon looks up at you, dark eyes zeroing in. His face is ten times more intense with the skull paint, pinning you to the spot. 

Everything dulls to the background for a second. You don’t dare breathe, too afraid to shatter the moment as he stares at you, unblinking. His eyes glitter in the darkness of the room, two amber pools reflecting the moonlight. 

Joshua enters the room behind you, shattering the spell as you step out of his way. You turn back to Vernon, clearing your throat. He pulls a hand from his pocket, beckoning you over. Mouth dry, you obey, skittering over toward him quickly as you observe the materials that Soonyoung is sifting through in the corner. Candles. Matches. Salt. A bell. 

“Soonyoung,” you say sharply, slowing your step. “Why do you have ritual materials?”

He looks up at you, his grin wide. “Told you that you’d like this.” 

“What is this?” You turn back to Vernon, who shrugs one shoulder. 

Hesitantly, you take the unoccupied space next to him, casting the girl at his side a cursory glance. She observes your costume. “Are you a hot goth?” 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, head thunking against the wall as you watch Soonyoung stand, materials in hand. Vernon coughs next to you, trying to cover his laugh. You glare at him sidelong and he says nothing, but his skeleton mouth is screwed up in a smirk. “What is he doing?”

“No clue.”

Soonyoung walks over to the bedroom door, looking down the hallway before shutting it. You fight a shiver, disliking how quiet the room becomes, cut off from the rest of the world. The window near you is the only source of light, and the only one shut on the second level of the abandoned home. 

“What time is it?” Soonyoung asks Joshua.

“11:45.” 

“Perfect.” Soonyoung spins, eyes falling on you. “Want to talk to a ghost?” 

All eyes turn to you in the room. You open and close your mouth, confused. “What?” 

“Do you want to talk to a ghost? Like someone who died?” 

Your eyes drift to the candle, bell and matches in Soonyoung’s hand. A tingle spreads over your skin and your spine stiffens. “Soonyoung that better not be to invite a spirit in.” 

His grin grows. “Come on, you are the ghost major or whatever. You should be thrilled to do this.”

“Occult Studies. And that doesn’t mean I fuck with the unknown or make a mockery of the dead. We’ve been over this.” 

“It’s basically the same thing, come on. You learn it all in class.” 

“No.” 

He pouts. “You’d be best at it, though. Rumor has it that when the veil is thinnest, you can talk to the spirit that haunts this house.” 

“The murderer? Or the murdered?” Soonyoung shrugs. “I doubt either would be very happy a bunch of drunk college kids are trying to bother them. My answer is no.” 

“Ugh. I was kind of counting on you doing it.” 

“Do it yourself.”

“I don’t study ghost shit!”

“Occult! Studies!”

“Ghost shit,” Soonyoung assures the room confidently.

“I’ll do it,” Vernon sighs, pushing off the wall. “Leave her alone.” 

Soonyoung’s eyes are alight as Vernon steps toward him. You reach out to grab his wrist, pulling him back. “Don’t.” 

“It’s fine.”

“Vernon.”

His eyes are soft when he looks at you. As soft as the terrifying makeup allows, anyway. “It’s fine, Lovecraft. Let me. He’ll stop asking.”

“I’m right here.”

“We know,” you and Vernon say in unison. You feel warm, chewing the inside of your cheek before nodding. You drop his wrist and turn to Soonyoung, eyes hard. “Give me that, you’ll do it wrong. Tell me what the mythos is.”

“What math? You need math?”

“The story, Soonyoung. What is the fucking story of this house?”

“Right. Apparently some dude murdered his girlfriend in here and then hung himself in that closet.” He points to a door you didn’t see when you walked in, dark and far away from the window. “Legend says at midnight, ring the bell three times and step into the closet with a candle. If the candle blows out, the spirit is with you. If it doesn’t, it didn’t work.” 

Grabbing the items from Soonyoung’s hand, you look at Vernon. “When you’re done, ring the bell three times again and say: Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.” 

“Thank you,” Vernon repeats gently, taking the bell from your hand. “I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Everyone else take candles,” you direct, voice rough with irritation. You glare at Soonyoung and Seungcheol in particular as you shove candles in their hands. “Stand in the four corners of the room. Did you bring sage, Soonyoung?”

“Bring what?”

“Of course not, why would you?” Everyone starts moving to the corner of the room, using matches to light their candles. The room feels unnaturally cold now, despite your long sleeves. Turning back to Vernon, you say, “It’s probably a stupid rumor.”

“Probably.”

“If your candle goes out, just ring the bell, say the words, and dismiss it.” 

“Right.” 

“You don’t have to do it, Vernon.”

His mouth kicks up at the corner. “I’m not worried, Lovecraft. You are.” 

Letting out a breath, you give a laugh that’s only half-there. You are nervous. You don’t like the idea of inviting a spirit into Vernon’s space, and though Soonyoung’s little ritual doesn’t really sound right, you’re not going to correct him. 

Still, you feel unsettled as you light your own candle and then Vernon’s. He cradles it in his hands as you escort him to the door. Tucked under your arm is the canister of salt. Crouching down, you pour the salt in a thick white light in front of the door, careful to ensure that there are no breaks and that it covers the entire entryway from corner to corner.

“Be careful when you step over it and when you open the door,” you instruct, standing up. The candle in your hand flickers unsteadily. “Don’t break the line. The idea is that if Soonyoung’s stupid summoning works, the spirit can’t get through the salt.”

“Banishing and all that,” Vernon recalls with a smile. Your heart flips. “I remember.” 

“Come on, you only have a minute!” Soonyoung calls eagerly. 

Shooting him a glare that silences him, you turn back to Vernon. “Ring the bell three times. Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Got it.” 

Unsettled you shuffle back from the door a little bit. You don’t go to a corner of the room like you’ve asked everyone else, unwilling to totally leave him by himself. Heart hammering, you hold your candle in front of you, cradling the warmth like a second heart. 

Vernon is unbothered. You can see it in the loose set of his shoulders and the way he sighs, already tired of Soonyoung’s antics. The party downstairs feels a million miles away as you watch Vernon stand in front of the closed closet door, looking up at it, unimpressed.

“It’s midnight,” Joshua whispers from the corner. 

Vernon doesn’t make any sound that he’s heard Joshua, but he lifts the little bell in his hand. It’s a hand bell, the wood grip worn and cracked. You wonder where Soonyoung got it from, having half a mind to ask him when the first clear ring of the bell disrupts your thoughts. 

The note sings through the air, your blood turning to ice in your veins. It feels like your pulse is throbbing in your neck as Vernon rings the bell hard a second time, the sound chasing the echo of the first. The third ring feels like a tremor in the air, warbling as Vernon quickly sets the bell on the floor, careful not to extinguish his candle flame. 

You hold your breath when he sets his hand on the doorknob. No one makes a sound as he twists it open. He pulls on the door and it comes away with a silent swing. The darkness on the other side is gaping, like there’s no back to the closet, just a wide hole of nothing. 

Vernon doesn’t seem to mind. He steps over the line of salt carefully until he’s in the middle of the closet, pivoting to face you. The orange flicker of his candle casts a haunting glow over his skull face. You swallow down a brief moment of fear before he winks and leans forward to pull the door shut.

For a long moment, there’s nothing. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, the thudthudthud so loud you swear everyone else in the room can hear it. No one moves, everyone fixated on the door. The silence is so piercing that your ears start to ring, the sound of the party completely unreachable over your mounting anxiety. 

“Well?” Soonyoung whispers somewhere behind you. “I guess it didn’t work.” 

Vernon begins pounding on the door. Someone screams behind you followed by a bunch of curses. You leap forward, heart in your throat as Vernon screams something unintelligible on the other side. You drop your candle, completely throwing caution to the wind as you grab the doorknob and twist. 

It doesn’t move.

“Vernon?” you ask, voice spiking with fear. “Let go of the doorknob, let me turn it. Vernon!”

The pounding doesn’t stop. He is screaming in a way you’ve never heard before, his fists rattling the door against the frame. You shriek his name back, yanking at the door frantically, your panic mounting as he screams and- 

When the door opens, you nearly fall backward with the force of it, stumbling over your feet. Soonyoung steadies you, to your surprise. You hadn’t realized he had left his corner of the room to help, his hand warm and firm. 

Vernon stands on the other side of the door, mouth pressed in a firm line. 

“You fucking asshole,” Soonyoung swears, throwing his unlit candle at Vernon. Vernon laughs, dodging it. “You fucking suck.”

“Yeah, well don’t ask me to do stupid shit.” Vernon steps out of the closet, eyes dropping to you. His mirth is edged with something sharp, a glint in his eyes that is wholly unfamiliar. “I was kidding.”

“You fucking asshole!” You screech at him, slamming your hands into his chest and knocking him back a little. He smirks and says nothing, letting you hit him a few times. “Why would you do that to me? What is wrong with you?” 

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, you sound really fucking sorry.” Anger sours your mouth. Turns your words to poison. Your throat tightens up and you feel the telltale sign of tears, equal parts livid, embarrassed and offended that Vernon would do such a thing. “Fuck you, Vernon.”

Someone laughs awkwardly as you storm off. Vernon calls your name but you ignore him, bolting down the hall and down the stairs. The wood creaks uncertainty under your feet but you don’t care. You want to be anywhere but here, the hot lick of embarrassment burning your heels as you go. 

You blow past Chan on your way out, his bleary eyes following you. “Nooo,” he whines. “Hot goth, come back to me!”

“Shut up, Chan!” You scream, slamming down the steps as you go.

People nearly dive out of your way, swiveling to watch the wake of your wrath as you leave the party. You ignore them, not wanting anyone to see the hot tears that spill over as you hit the dirt road, boots crunching. 

It’s hard to tell what’s worse. The fact that Vernon had played a joke on you he knew you wouldn’t like, or the way you had panicked and lost all resolve to be the one in charge. Both feel awful, but the sting of Vernon’s joke is the sharper of the two, cutting you to the quick.

Vernon has never dared to do something like that in your entire friendship. You have no idea why he did it now. Was it because he had an audience? Was he drunk? Was he actually like the members of his fraternity he associated with? 

You had no idea, which only made things worse. Above anyone else, you thought you knew Vernon best. But perhaps, you didn’t know Vernon at all, which was far worse than any sort of haunted spirit you could imagine. 

-

The next morning, you don’t hear from Vernon. It makes your blood boil, a nasty feeling forming in the pit of your stomach as you put your phone on Do Not Disturb. You put on a big set of headphones, blaring music to keep you sane as you set about cleaning your apartment furiously. 

It’s an okay distraction. The lull of clinical cleaning is nice and the music soothes the sting that nips at your heels like an incessant hound. When you run out of things to clean, though, you’re forced to face the fact that it’s nearly evening and Vernon still hasn’t said anything to you.

You don’t want to text him first. Your pride is wounded from the night before and you’re shocked he hasn’t apologized - he should apologize. The silence only makes you angrier, and with nothing left to clean in your apartment, you decide to think of all the things you’re going to say to him when he does finally reach out to you. Because you’re not saying anything first. 

Vernon’s radio silence makes it nearly impossible to sleep. You toss and turn in bed, unable to get comfortable, checking your phone and social media. It’s difficult to remember the last time you went over twenty four hours without hearing from Vernon, and the realization forms a pit in your stomach.

Maybe the silence was good. Maybe you were too reliant on his friendship, the one constant that you had grown far too fond of. Maybe he was into that girl last night, making a show of you because he wanted to make her laugh or maybe he was just putting you in your place.

The insecurity wars with your logic that Vernon wouldn’t do that. He’s never had a history of that kind of behavior before, and though he might tease you on occasion, you have never been the butt of his jokes or the target of his humor. 

Jokes like that aren’t even Vernon’s style. He doesn’t like cruelty, and that’s what pretending to be screaming for help was. It was cruel, and strange and it hurt. 

What hurts more is the silence continuing into a second day. By the late afternoon, though, the hurt has morphed into something else. You sit on your couch, staring at the phone on your coffee table. Your pride was begging you not to text him, but your worry was starting to chip away at you. 

Heaving a sigh, you pick up the phone. The tap of your nails against the glass screen is loud in your quiet apartment, the final rays of sun melting through the blinds while a candle burns on the counter. 

[You 5:14 PM]: So are we not talking? 

Setting the phone down, you immediately start making dinner. It doesn’t matter that you’re too early. You’re nervous waiting for his text back, which makes you feel ridiculous. Then you feel ridiculous for feeling ridiculous, validating yourself that it is totally okay to have feelings and be nervous.

“God,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m exhausting.” 

By the time you’ve had dinner and watched a full episode of Alice in Borderland, Vernon has said nothing. Worry eats away at the lining of your stomach. You pause the show and pick up the phone again, dialing his number.

On the other side of the line, the phone rings. And rings. And rings. 

You hang up when you get the automated voicemail, frowning. It’s all strange, and a nagging feeling tugs at your nervous system but you can’t put your finger on it.

Just as you set the dishes in the sink, your phone starts to ping. You’re grateful no one can see you in your apartment as you lurch to the phone, picking it up and unlocking it to see if it’s Vernon. It isn’t, but your heart starts to thud when your group chats with other friends and classmates in projects flood with the same rumor over and over.

A dead body had been found on campus. 

Vernon doesn’t live on campus, but it doesn’t stop you from calling him again. And again. And again. When the voicemail turns on a fourth time, you seethe into the phone, fingers gripping it so hard it feels like it’ll break. “Call me back you fucking asshole! Someone died on campus and you’re not answering and I just need to know it’s not you. Fuck!” 

Time passes and you get so desperate you do the one thing you didn’t want to do unless it was dire circumstances. You hit dial and bring your phone up to your ear, pinching the bridge of your nose to prepare yourself for when Mingyu answers the phone. 

“Am I dreaming?” he says by way of greeting. “It was the life guard costume, right?” 

“Mingyu, it wasn’t a costume. You were shirtless with board shorts.” 

“But it worked, right?”

“Have you heard from Vernon?” 

“Nah, why?” 

“Like you haven’t seen him at all since the party?” 

“Mmm. I don’t think so.” There’s a muffled sound on the phone like he’s trying to cover it when he yells, “Chan, have you seen that fuck head Vernon?” You wait impatiently, holding the phone further from your ear as Minguy yells. “Chan hasn’t seen him either.” 

“Isn’t that weird? I haven’t been able to get a hold of him.”

“Nah, I mean we never really see him. Usually he’s with you.”

“Right. And he isn’t with me, I haven’t seen him since the party.” 

“Well have you checked his apartment?” You hesitate. “Helloooo?”

“No.”

“Well. Do that. He’s probably sleeping or some shit, who knows.” 

“Great. You were so helpful,” you deadpan.

Mingyu sounds genuinely happy when he says, “I’m so glad!”

You hang up the phone before he can say anything else. 

Chewing your nail, you stare at the wall, mind racing.  Mingyu has a point that it’s normal for them to never see Vernon. He is usually with you, or he’s solitary. There is little in between. He also has a point that most of the time if you were looking for Vernon, you’d just swing by his apartment. 

The thought of seeing him again makes you want to curl in on yourself, but your concern weighs out. You get dressed and grab your keys, trying not to let your fear of what you might find there keep you from leaving. 

Opening the door to your apartment, you get one foot out the door and then slam directly into Vernon. You reel backward, eyebrows shooting up as he steadies you by the elbow, equally surprised to see you as though he wasn’t at your doorstep. 

“Easy there,” he greets, a half smile on his face.

Vernon looks totally normal. He definitely doesn’t look like he was murdered, and he’s dressed in his usual jeans, plain black shirt, and a backwards hat. For a second, you just stare at him, totally shocked and utterly relieved he isn’t dead.

Then, the anger comes. 

You slam a hand into his chest, cursing at him. “Where?” Slap. “Have?” Slap. “You?” Slap. “Been?” 

He takes the blows in stride. His chest is firm beneath your palm, heart beating steadily. Alive. And now that you’ve established he’s not dead, you feel so much anger ripple through you that you don’t let him answer before you’re pivoting on your foot and storming back into your apartment.

The sound of the door closing behind you followed by his shuffling as he takes his shoes off tells you he hasn’t left. A small part of you curls in satisfaction with the domesticity of his arrival, but it is blotted out by the hurt and rage at the surface of your emotions.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You demand. It isn’t as eloquent as your practiced rant, but it’s something. “You better explain yourself. And quickly.”

Vernon’s dark eyes connect with yours, simmering. You feel your heart lurch as he slinks over to the kitchen, never taking his gaze off you. The back of your neck tingles. Vernon never keeps this much eye contact and it’s both thrilling and unnerving. 

“I want to apologize,” he murmurs, pitching his voice low. You watch with trepidation as he reaches out to gather your hand in his. He folds your fingers under his, pulling your hand to his chest. Your breath quickens, pulse throbbing as he cradles your fist to his chest, his heartbeat steady. “I fucked up. I wanted to fuck with Soonyoung but I did it at the expense of you, and for that I’m deeply sorry.”

Warmth spreads from his hand to yours. You don’t know what to make of the apology - it’s so unlike him. Vernon has no problem apologizing when he’s wrong, but he’s usually not so confident, so well spoken. You stare and stare, that pitless gaze of his pinned on you. 

“I just…” You chew the inside of your cheek. “You really hurt my feelings, Vernon.” His hands tighten around yours and he tugs a little, pulling you closer. It’s harder to think when you’re this close, fingers wrapped in his. “You really scared me and then you vanished for nearly three days. Why did you do that?” 

“I wasn’t feeling well and I slept most of the days away. Honestly.”

“You weren’t feeling well?”

He gives you a look. “I see the skepticism. I’m serious, I just… wasn’t myself. I tried to rest and I didn’t hear my phone and I’m sorry. Really.”

Vernon’s apology settles around you like a weight. You watch him, contemplating what to do next. He doesn’t look ill, his gold skin as flawless as ever, his rosy lips tucked under his teeth as he watches you, waiting. His heart thuds under your palm, his thumb absently brushing back and forth over the top of your hand.

Breathing becomes difficult. Vernon isn’t overly affectionate, but the way he presses your hand to his chest now sends you down a dangerous path. The desire for him bubbles just below your surface and you’re terrified it’ll boil over, exposing everything you’ve ever thought about him.

“Alright,” you say softly, pulling your hand from his. He lets you. “Don’t ever do something like that to me again. It was scary and I felt stupid. And I thought you were dead.”

“Why?” 

Gesturing to the couch, the two of you plop down, seemingly back to normal. You’re still a little off kilter, but you report back to Vernon what your classmates had been saying. He grabs your remote and turns on the news, settling close enough to you that your thighs brush against one another. You shoot him a questioning look but he’s fixated on the TV, leaning forward to press his elbows into his knees.

The reporter on the news confirms the body of one of your fellow students had indeed been found on campus. Names and details were not yet available, but they were interviewing students about whether or not they felt safe on campus. By the second interview, Vernon was turning off the TV and leaning back.

“Freaky,” you murmur, tapping the arm of the couch. “Weird timing, right?”

“How so?”

“We just had a Halloween party in a weird murder house.”

Vernon goes silent. You turn to look at him, eyes searching. He stares at you, again the eye contact unsettling. Even though it feels like your Vernon sitting next to you, there is an edge to him that’s new. You don’t know what to do with it, shifting in your seat a little.

“Forget the murder house,” he says eventually, flicking his fingers in dismissal. “That party sucked and I’d rather forget it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, eyeing him as he looks out the window. You swear he’s agitated, but you can’t pinpoint why. “Me too.”

-

Someone sitting down roughly next to you draws your attention away from your essay, barely audibly over the sound of Current Blue playing through your headphones. You raise a brow as Vernon slings his belongings on the table unceremoniously, uncaring how loud he is in the library.

You glance around, seeing that he’s attracted the attention of a few people at nearby tables, some scowling, others blushing. When you turn your gaze back to him, you see his mouth moving as he divests his bag of its contents, but you can’t hear him. 

Pulling your headphones from your head, you ask, “What?” 

“Can you help me with my organic chem assignment?” 

“I hate chemistry.” 

His mouth twitches as he opens his laptop. “Right, but you’re good at it. You’re the smartest person in school.”

Again, something nags at your instincts. You can’t pinpoint it, examining Vernon more closely. He looks totally normal, dressed in black jeans, a black shirt, and a jean jacket pulled over it. He’s without a hat today, his hair falling in messy strands over his brow as he sets up his area to study.

Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “What?” 

“You seem different.”

“Different how?” He types on his computer to start bringing up his chemistry homework. “Different as in going to fail organic chem without your help?” 

“Oh shut up. I’m obviously going to help you.” 

His mouth is wicked when he grins. “Good.” 

When Vernon looks up at you, the world stops a little. His gaze today is fathomless, dark eyes smooth like the surface of a lake with no end. You tip into that gaze, letting yourself drown in it for a moment. Normally, Vernon would break eye contact by now, easily distracted or unrealizing that he’s got you stuck on him. 

Now, he doesn’t do that. He looks right back at you. Heat crawls up your neck and your breaths quicken. For the first time since you’ve known him, Vernon looks at you like he knows everything inside your locked-tight heart. 

You lick your lips and his gaze dips to your mouth. Inside your chest, your hummingbird heart hammers, threatening to break free. The corner of Vernon’s mouth tilts upward as his eyes meet yours again, and you watch, completely frozen, as he leans toward you. 

Vernon is so close you can smell the spicy cologne on his skin. It’s heady and makes you dizzy, and you watch, totally lost as he wraps his hand around the leg of your chair and tugs hard. You yelp, startling a few people around you as he yanks your chair next to his, your thighs pressed together. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper harshly at him, throwing an apologetic look at the people you’ve disturbed for a second time. 

“How are you going to help me from over there?”

“You could have asked me to move my chair.” 

The problem isn’t that he moved your chair. Not really. The problem is how close he is, leg pressed against yours and elbows touching as he shrugs and turns his computer screen toward you. The problem is how at ease he is with you nearly on top of him, his lazy smile making your thoughts tangle and your breath quicken. 

This Vernon is still the one you’re used to but there’s something about him that keeps you on edge. Keeps you looking at him when his hand brushes against yours to grab a pen, or when he leans back and puts his arm across the back of your chair, idly playing with the hood of your jacket.

It’s almost like he’s flirting, and you spend half the time stumbling through his homework, barely able to assist him in a meaningful way because you’re busy decoding the subtle touches and the light teasing. You feel yourself blush more and look the other way to collect yourself more in the hour you help him than you have your entire friendship, unsure what’s happening or how to handle it. 

Homework completed, Vernon stares off into the distance, his finger twisting in the string of your hoodie absently as you try to write the rest of your paper. It’s nearly impossible to concentrate like this, the intimacy more than you’re used to. 

“You’re very distracting today,” you comment as you reference a text to the right of your screen. “Are you aware of that?” 

He hums. “This is hardly a distraction. I could try harder, though.”

You cut a glance at him. He seems utterly serious, any sort of mirth nonexistent in his expression. There’s just that shadowed gaze, that spark of something right where you can’t reach it. You abruptly stand, surprising him as you knock his arm away from you and clear your throat. 

“I need a different text. It’s downstairs, though.” 

“I’ll come with you.” You raise your brows and he shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else to do.” 

“Sure.” 

Without another word, you pivot on your heel and nearly run for the far set of stairs that lead to the subterranean level of the library where all the old texts and books exist. Vernon follows you at a casual pace, still totally at ease despite the fact that you’re obviously unraveling.

You have no idea what his sudden interest in you is and it’s making you unspool, thoughts wild and racing as you reach the stairwell that leads down. 

Damp air greets you as you start down the steps and it smells like wet carpet. You cringe, hating every time you have to come here. It’s always poorly lit and damp, not at all what one would expect from a library trying to keep books from molding. But no one really comes down here anyway, only the history majors and people like you, who require weird books long retired from the main shelves.

It’s eerie in the old stacks. There are lamps above head casting a burnt orange glow over the green, shag carpet but otherwise it’s nearly impossible to see in the shadowy parts of the room. You certainly could never read a book down here. 

Vernon is silent behind you but you can feel him, his gaze burning into your back as you navigate toward the last set of rows. As you approach, you hear a sound, stopping you dead in your tracks. Vernon crashes into you, nearly knocking you over but his hands grab you, steadying you and holding you close to his chest. 

For the first time today, you’re able to ignore his nearness in favor of straining your ears for the sound you heard, a small whimper, perhaps. You hear it again, distinctly human. Your heart starts to pound as you remember that just the day before there was a body found on campus, mind racing with thoughts as you stand rooted to the spot, Vernon pressed against you.

Craning your head, you look up at him. His expression is unreadable as he looks at you through long lashes, face shadowed. There’s a soft bang, like someone knocking something over. He looks over your head and back at you, shrugging his shoulder as if to say your choice. 

Slowly, you move forward. Vernon keeps close, his heat radiating behind you like a furnace as you creep through the last few rows of shelving. As you near the third one, you stop and peer around the corner, eyes trying to adjust in the shitty lighting. 

What you see has you snapping back around the stack, mouth dropping open. Vernon, curious, leans around you to peer around the stack. He raises his brows and steps backward, mouth pressed in a firm line to conceal his laugh. 

In the next row over is a girl you vaguely recognize, naked from the waist down while someone who is very much not her boyfriend, pumps their fingers between her legs. Slapping Vernon’s chest you point toward the door, silently screaming at him to turn around and hightail it out of there. 

Vernon, for a second, bites his lower lip and wags his eyebrows at you, suggestive. You glare and shove his chest. He goes easily, grinning at you playfully as he turns on his heel and heads back up to the main floor. 

When you reach your table, you drop down in the chair, totally shocked. Vernon drops down next to you, laughing. “Listen, when the urge hits, I guess.”

“I guess,” you agree sharply, shaking your head. “That was not her boyfriend, though.”

“No shit?” 

“Yeah. She’s dating some dude in Sigma whatever.” 

Vernon’s gaze turns sharp and his eyes trail back toward the far side of the library, resting on the stairs. “Interesting.” 

“Not really. That seems to happen a lot among you Greek lifers.” 

“I would never do that.” The severity of his declaration has you looking up from your notebook. Vernon’s expression is cutting, his jaw flexing. “I would never participate in infidelity. Ever.” 

“I didn’t mean you, Vernon.” 

“I’m not like that.” 

You soften a little, guilt tugging at you. So often you remember that Vernon isn’t like a lot of the people around him and grouping him in is unfair and insensitive. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

He nods once, turning from you to pack up his stuff. Somehow, you can’t help but feel like you’ve said the wrong thing. 

-

“Oh shit,” Vernon mutters. You look up from where you’re flipping a grilled cheese in the pan. He holds his phone out to you from where he leans against his kitchen counter. “They found another body. Same MO or whatever as the first.” 

“No way?” 

Putting down the spatula, you grab his phone from him where he has the article pulled up. Sure enough, there’s been another murder on campus. Your eyes drink in the details, similar as before: student victim, stab wounds, message written on the wall. 

“What is the Hello Darling Murder?” you ask, more to yourself than Vernon. “It’s linked here as a reference to these being copycat murders.” He says nothing. You read out loud, “The Hello Darling Murder is a case of a murder suicide that happened in the same town in 1979. It was the town’s first violent domestic crime in years, and drew national media attention for the gruesome crime scene in which a message had been written on the wall in blood.” 

Vernon makes an amused sound. You look up at him sharply, staring. He has his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor with a mildly bemused expression. You kick him and he looks up at you. “What?”

“Why are you laughing? That’s not funny.”

“The way people sensationalize murder is weird.” 

“I mean, I agree. But what is funny?”

“It’s not funny as in funny ha ha,” he clarifies. “It’s funny stupid. The media is going to sensationalize this and turn it into an entire thing.” 

“Yeah, well. That’s their job.” 

Off put by his dark mirth, you turn back to the article, reading further. You skip over the old murder, more interested in the details of the two new ones. Your heart seizes in your chest when you see the name and picture of the second victim, stomach roiling. 

He sees your expression, pushing off the counter toward you, hands shooting your arms. “What? What’s wrong?” 

In any other scenario, you’d be overwhelmed by the sudden care and affection. Now, you just turn the phone toward him, showing him the photo. “It’s that girl from the library. Her name was Sidney. She’s the one I told you was cheating on her boyfriend.” 

Nothing registers in his face when he looks at the phone, his hands still resting on your arms lightly. He looks away from the screen and at you instead, a sharpness to his gaze that’s there so often you’re starting to grow used to it.

“You’re burning the grilled cheese, Lovecraft.” 

-

Mosquitos nip at your skin as you walk down the narrow path between trees. You slap your hand against your neck again, muttering under your breath. Vernon chuckles next to you, keeping his pace even as you struggle to step over a fallen tree branch. 

You hate the woods at night. It’s not your first time going to a bonfire deep in the woods off campus, but you don’t know why you keep coming back. Tripping over another branch, Vernon catches you by the arm and steadies you, stopping to make sure you’re okay before he lets go.

Scratch that. You do know why you keep coming back. For as long as you’ve been friends, you’ve been Vernon’s permanent plus one to all of his parties, formals and events, even if both of you hate going. It’s become a weird obligation to show up at things like this as a pair. 

They aren’t always terrible, you have to admit. When Mingyu isn’t absolutely hammered, he’s mostly tolerable to be around. Soonyoung isn’t bad either, though you’re still pissed off at him for the Halloween party incident, unwilling to talk to him. 

But nights like this where you have to trek out into the middle of the woods using your phone’s flashlight to navigate, you sort of loathe your unspoken oath to attend with Vernon. 

Instead of focusing on the distaste and the inherent anxiety the shadows of the trees give you, you let Vernon help you slide down a ditch and climb up the other side. His fingers are firm on your wrist, not quite holding your hand but keeping you connected. 

Your skin is warm and tingles when he lets go, deeming it safe enough to let you walk yourself. It’s easier to see now, too, the orange light of the massive bonfire casting a circle of orange glow that only grows as you near the party. 

Party is perhaps too strong of a word for it. There can’t be more than twenty people in the small clearing surrounding the roaring fire the Soonyoung tends to, foldable chairs and coolers arranged in a circle. Chan is trying to roast a marshmallow and failing, the white snack immediately catching fire and singing in the heat of the fire. 

Mingyu whistles when he sees you, catching your attention to wave you over to a pair of seats by him and Chan. You make your way there, navigating through groups of people clutching plastic cups and stepping over various sizes of coolers. 

The heat from Soonyoung’s inferno is nearly unbearable, making you cringe back as he adds something that cracks and pops, sending bits of orange ash floating toward the sky. 

“Jesus Christ, Soonyoung!” Seungcheol complains from his seat where a girl sits on his knee. “Enough, it’s fucking hot!” 

“Sorry,” Soonyoung answers, sheepish. 

Backing your chair away from the fire a little, you sit down and curl into the folding chair, accepting the drink Vernon hands you before moving his chair closer to yours and sitting down. A shiver ripples through you at the cool can in your hands. You crack the top and take a sip, trying to cool down from the blast of heat you’d taken while passing the fire.

Mingyu turns to you and Vernon as Chan pops a burned marshmallow in his mouth, the two of them immediately launching into discussions of the murders. You shift uncomfortably in your chair, listening as they recount the details in the news mixed with the rumors on campus. 

So far, two bodies have been discovered and linked together. The authorities don’t want to call it a serial killer, attempting to avoid a media craze and inspiring the killer to go on a spree, but denying the murders are connected is impossible.

You’re unsure what the victims have in common. The first had been a male senior who was in the business track, discovered by the dorms near the lake on campus. The second had been the girl you’d seen in the library in her apartment off campus, and Sidney had been in the education track and a junior. 

Neither of them were friends. You don’t go to a large university, but there are enough students that it’s normal to have a ton of people that you don’t know. From what anyone can tell, there was nothing the two victims had in common.

Except that they’d been murdered by someone who had left a bloody Hello Darling written at the crime scene.

A chill sweeps over you as Mingyu mentions the Hello Darling Murderer. It was the same story as before - a man had murdered his girlfriend in the 70s, a shocking and violent domestic crime that had unsettled the citizens and local university. He’d promptly killed himself after that, leaving only a bloody Hello Darling on the walls.

Authorities didn’t even know who the blood had belonged to - it took them so long to realize the couple was missing before they did a wellness check that by the time they investigated, they’d been dead a week. 

Vernon snorts at that and mutters something about the ineptitude of law enforcement. You cut your eyes at him. Though you agree, Vernon is usually the last person to make degrading comments - or comment at all really. 

Not for the first time in the last two weeks, you can’t help but sense that honed edge to him he has now. You’ve attributed it to him moving with more confidence, talking to people directly and making actual eye contact. You don’t know where the sudden swell in self-conviction has come from, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t look good on him.

Still, it’s got you a little uneasy, trying to adjust to this version of him. 

The topic shifts to football and you find yourself tuning everyone out, sipping your cider and staring at the fire as it warms your feet. More people arrive and drag chairs up. Someone hauls a few kegs into the firelight, cheers going around the fire.

Vernon stands and holds his hand up for your empty can. You give it to him wordlessly and he heads to get you a refresh, tossing the trash into one of the trash bins.

Turning to Mingyu as he goes, you ask quietly, “Has he seemed different to you lately?” 

“Who?”

“Steve Jobs,” you deadpan. “Vernon, obviously.”

“I don’t think so? He’s around a lot more lately and actually talks to us.” Mingyu pauses, thinking as he cocks his head to the side. “I mean, I guess that is kind of weird for him. He also actually goes to places with us now.” 

“Exactly what I mean.”

“Hey! We are friends, you know?” 

You hum uncertainty, your attention trailing back to Vernon. You observe him, noticing all the little details that are different. He stands a little bit straighter, inserts himself in conversations where he didn’t before.

Now, he stands near the keg, nodding along to something the girl next to him is saying. They’re standing close - you realize it’s the same girl from the Halloween party that had been talking to him, except this time, he’s talking back. 

Vernon leans in close to her and says something, making her laugh. He bites his lower lip a little, watching her with half-lidded eyes. Your stomach turns a little, eyes glued as he brushes her arm when he reaches for the cup that Joshua hands him. 

Turning away from them, you tune yourself into Chan’s conversation, needing a distraction. You try not to count the minutes until Vernon returns. When he does, the girl is with him. He drags a chair over so she can sit on the other side of him. 

It’s close, their knees touching when he sits and hands her the drink he was holding for her. He turns and holds out your drink to you, which sloshes a little when you snatch the cup from his hand. He arches his brows but you say nothing, taking a large gulp and turning your back on him to ask Chan about football instead. 

“You watch football?” Chan asks cryptically. 

“Sure. Go Green Bay Ravens.” 

He stares. “Packers. Green Bay Packers.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey, I’m not arguing with you. In fact, if you want to tell me what’s what more often-”

You scoff. “Shut up, Chan!”

Stuck between Vernon flirting with the girl next to him and Chan and Mingyu being - Chan and Mingyu - sours your mood. You try to lose yourself in your cup, going mute as you stare at the fire. Vernon hardly notices the shift in your mood, leaning in to the girl as they chat. 

You can’t help but notice everything about them. It’s impossible not to see the way she leans into him, bumping shoulders when she laughs. He lets her, watching her with a gaze you can only describe as hungry. The grip on your cup tightens as he knocks their knees together when he shifts in his chair, leaving it pressed against hers. 

It reminds you of the way he’d behaved in the library with you, brushing against you on purpose, making his words come out in a playful pur instead of what you’re used to, and seeing him do it with her now makes you snap. 

You stand abruptly, drawing the attention of Chan and Mingyu but not who you want. 

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Need company?” Chan offers. It seems genuine, but you give him a sharp no before you’re walking away, sticks snapping underneath your boots as you go. 

Chill air licks your face as you get further from the fire. There are plenty of people dispersed throughout the general area, some people pulled far away for intimate conversations, others pulled away to pass a joint in a circle, the pungent smell chasing you as you pass them. 

Away from the smoke and the noise, you feel like you can breathe a little more. You find a fallen tree, thick enough to sit on. You test your weight on it first before deciding it’s safe, swinging your leg to straddle it and look off into the dark trees.

There’s just enough light from the silver moon above your head and from the distant fire to feel safe. Wrapping your arms around your middle, you hug yourself and close your eyes, breathing in deep. The fire smoke isn’t strong here, the air clean and crisp.

Opening your eyes, you look at the sky. This far out in the country, you can see the stars. Out of habit, you start mapping out all the constellations you know, eyes tracing Orion the Hunter. You skip over to Andromeda, counting each star before moving to the east to spot Cassiopeia. 

It reminds you of the time you taught Vernon all the different constellations. He’d been a silent and attentive listener, watching as you’d pointed them all out while sitting on a bench at the park. You’ve caught him drawing them more than once in his chemistry notebooks, little dots of perfect constellations memorized. 

An ache you’re familiar with fills your chest. It’s the same ache you had when you realized you had feelings for him but didn’t want to tell him. The same ache you had when he’d hurt your feelings on Halloween. The same ache as when you’d seen him actually look back at someone who's interested in him, for once. 

Crying seems silly, but suddenly you have the urge to, throat twisting as you stare at the sky and try to puzzle out the direction your friendship has gone since that night. As you sit on the tree, a prickling sense of awareness creeps up your spine, tugging at you. 

Looking around, you see nothing. You can generally see in a good circumference, but the sudden instinct that something or someone is watching you drives you to get off the branch, hitting the ground with both feet to stride back toward the fire. 

As you go, your foot gets stuck in a tangle of tree roots again, making you stumble. You curse, bending down through squinted eyes to untangle your foot. Your fingers are a little cold and shaking, anxiety creeping up slowly as you pull the weeds and roots away from your shoe. 

Something snaps behind you. Your fingers freeze, head whipping around to look for the source of the noise. Again, you see nothing but your heart is hammering. You don’t dare to breathe, holding your breath as you strain your ears to hear anything else. There’s only crickets and an owl in the distance, no more snapping branches.

In that moment, it occurs to you that you’ve decided to wander out in the woods at night and alone after two recent murders. The stupidity of your actions land like a blow.

Turning back around, you wrench your shoe free and stand up, nearly colliding with Vernon who leans backward to avoid smacking into you as you shriek in surprise, stepping backward. Vernon’s hand darts out to grab you, catching you and tugging you forward into him before you can lose your balance fully.

Heart hammering, your fingers dig into his biceps, keeping yourself standing as you hiss, “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing? You’re wandering out in the middle of the woods while there is an active serial killer in town.” 

“Oh please, like you noticed.”

He frowns. You drop your hands and try to step away from him, eager to put some distance between you. Vernon’s grip on you tightens though, keeping you where you’re standing. “I’m here, I obviously noticed.” You snort derisively and his grip tightens a little. “Is there something you want to say?”

You open and close your mouth, scowling at him. He’s never so direct you’re unsure how to approach the question. So you try for a little bit of honesty. “I wasn’t having fun.” 

“Okay, so let’s leave.”

“You look like you were having fun.” 

Silence hangs in the air. Vernon’s face is indecipherable. Then, “Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Your response is so fast that it even sounds practiced and hollow to you. It’s hard not to wince, hoping that as always, he doesn’t see through your cellophane defense. Vernon’s touch drops from your biceps to your wrist, delicate. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, instead staring at the buttons on his jean jacket. 

“I noticed you were gone.” His voice is gentle, a low purr. You dart a quick glance at him to see the intensity of his gaze. It makes you squirm, unsure how to respond. “I always notice when you’re gone.”

“Alright. Well.” 

“I notice everything about you.” 

The way he says it is a soft whisper. A promise, a suggestion. Again, it feels like Vernon has discovered your loose thread, tugging lightly on it. If he tugs again, you think you might unspool all the way, showing him everything you don’t want him to see. 

It feels like he wants to, and that’s what scares you more. That suddenly he’s looking at you like he wants to see past the veneer of your words, like he’s ready to look inside. You hear the double meaning. It’s so terrifying that you look away from him, ready to hide. 

“Don’t tease me,” you whisper. 

“I’m not. If you’re not having fun, let’s go home. I came here with you.” He tugs your wrist. “Come on. You can’t be walking around out here alone with a killer on the loose, Lovecraft. I’ll be forced to fight them off.” 

The tension fades. You let out a breath and laugh, looking at him skeptically. “Yeah? You’re going to fight for me?” 

His grip on your wrist tightens. You wonder if he can feel the speed of your pulse under his thumb, the way it hammers when he smirks. “Yeah, I am.” 

-

Sal’s Pizzeria isn’t your favorite place to do school work. It’s too loud and bright, the promise of food is way too distracting for you to focus for much longer than a few minutes at a time, and usually your fingers are too slippery with pizza grease to type properly. 

You only have a narrow window to finish writing your paper before going to the bar for Jihoon’s birthday. You barely know him, but he’s someone Vernon is decently close enough too that you feel obligated to attend. More importantly, you’re finally almost done with your paper you’ve been working on for two weeks, eager to celebrate hitting submit. 

“You know that dude who was killed first was a rotten cheater?” 

The girls sitting behind you catch your attention. Your brows knit together and you turn your head a fraction to eavesdrop, eyes unfocusing on the words on your screen. There are four of them behind you that you don’t recognize but assume go to the same school as you, based on the attire and the backpacks. 

“Yeah! Sam told me about that. Apparently he was sleeping around with a bunch of freshmen. Maybe his girlfriend found out and went all psycho killer on him?” 

“Ew, how scummy. But what’s with the hello darling message shit? Can you say weird?” 

“I know, right?” 

Their words give you pause. The first victim had been someone known for his infidelity too? Turning back to your screen, you pull up your web browser and type in Hello Darling Murderer to the search. The original murder from the 70s hadn’t given you much thought beyond assuming someone was being a copycat, but now you feel something nagging at you. Something you’re missing. 

All of the top stories are of the recent murders. You amend your search to the 70s and get older articles and links to podcasts covering the initial incident. Clicking on a story from a reputable journal, you start reading in detail about the first murder and his victim, skin prickling as you go.

As an Occult Studies major, a lot of people think you’re into murder mysteries. In truth, you’re not. They have little to do with what you study, and you’ve spent countless times telling people that occult and people obsessed with true crime are two totally different things. You have no idea why they’re lumped together so often, but on more than one occasion you’ve had to explain you’re not interested in serial killers or their stories.

Except now. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you unwind the story of Thomas Ellswater, who had apparently murdered his girlfriend at the time before promptly killing himself. The initial investigation hadn’t dug up much, assuming that it was a case of domestic violence gone as bad as it could. 

But the journalist who had written the story had other details. Accounts from family friends that detailed Elsswater’s girlfriend, Maya, unhappy with their relationship. One even insinuated that she had been cheating on him for a long time, though with who, they were unsure. 

Further down in the article, you stop. Read the paragraph again. Look at the picture of the house. A sickly chill coats your skin as you lean forward, taking in the details of the house. You’ve seen it before, though your memory of it at night surrounded by floodlights and full of drunk college students makes it almost unrecognizable when you see it on the screen. 

Thomas Ellswater lived in the same house that you’d partied in on Halloween night, where Vernon had played that horrible prank in the closet. Thomas or Maya had been the haunting spirit Soonyoung had been attempting to summon.

And now someone was killing in the same exact style.. 

The server bringing you two trays of pizzas and a basket of fries breaks you from your trance. You close the article, a sick feeling in your stomach as you try to piece together the puzzle. Was it just a spurned lover who was paying homage to someone who related? Or was it a serial killer poking fun at the MO?

Vernon crashing into the seat across from you startles you. He gives you a grin, eyeing the pizza in front of him and rubbing his hands together. Rolling your eyes, you grab the red pepper flakes and salt, passing the latter over to him. 

“So I learned something weird today,” you venture, pulling a slice of pizza from the tray. 

“Tell me,” he answers over a mouthful of pizza, once again burning himself. You roll your eyes, shaking your red pepper onto your slice. “What is going on in the world of occult today?”

“Actually, not occult.” He gives you an appraising look, popping some fries into his mouth. “What, no salt today?”

He pauses, looking at the basket of fries. “Nah, I need to cut back on the sodium.”

“Good idea. Anyway, it’s about the murders.” 

“Do tell.”

“The girls behind me said the first victim was known for cheating.” 

“It’s college. Apparently there is a lot of that.” 

“But remember that day we saw Sidney in the library? She was cheating too.” 

“Right.” He rips into his pizza, gaze sharp as he looks at you. “So this town is full of a bunch of lowlife fucking cheaters.”

You flinch at his vehemence, leaning back in your seat. Vernon drops his gaze, tearing into his slice in silence. “Sorry,” he says after swallowing. “I’m hungry.”

“Right. As I was saying, I looked up that Hello Darling Murder.” 

He pauses, gaze flicking to you. “And?”

“And it was ruled as a case of domestic violence gone wrong, but there were some people who think the Maya Caravalo was cheating on Thomas Ellswater, who killed her.” 

“I’m sure cheating is the leading cause of crimes of passion.”

“In the house that we were in on Halloween.” 

Vernon frowns. “Ah. Weird.” 

He doesn’t elaborate. You watch him as he chews on more pizza, shoving fries into his mouth on occasion too. He seems totally at ease - and more normal than he’s been in weeks. You watch, mildly disgusted at the way college men eat. 

“That’s all you have to say?” You ask. “Weird.”

“It is weird.” 

“Kind of an insane coincidence.” 

He becomes still, only his eyes moving as he settles his inky gaze on you. For a second, you can’t help but think he looks a bit like the cat who ate the canary, eyes glittering. “So tell me what theory is in that pretty head of yours, Lovecraft.” 

Ignoring the way your heart leaps at him calling you pretty, you sigh, picking at the wooden table with a thumb nail. “I don’t really have one. I just think someone came across the original murder and thought I could write that at my crime scenes. I don’t study criminology, I can’t figure out motivation.”

“You’re the smartest person in school, Lovecraft. Try.” 

“I guess… I don’t know. The new killer was probably cheated on recently, came across what happened in the 70s, and has been taking out their rage on other adulterers because they feel some sort of kinship with Thomas. Maybe like finishing his work or ridding the world of a common enemy.” 

Vernon hums. “Maybe so. Do you think they deserve it?” You look at him sharply, mouth downturning. “The victims. Do you think they deserve to be killed for their infidelity?” 

“I don’t know that anyone is deserving of murder.” You chew the inside of your cheek, watching Vernon’s face for any sign of what he’s thinking. He’s totally closed off, a blank canvas. “This is why I’m in Occult Studies and not law, Vernon.” 

He gives a wolfish grin. “Touche. Come on, eat your pizza. We have a bar to go get drunk at.” 

-

The bar in question is teeming with people. You’re immediately overwhelmed, squeezing your way between chairs, tables and people as you navigate to your group of friends. Vernon keeps you close, his arm encircling your waist as pulling you to him as you go. 

He either ignores or doesn’t notice the sharp look you give him. Instead, he’s focused on keeping the two of you attached, shouldering his way through the crowd, the press of his fingers on your hip dizzying and steadying at the same time. 

At the far back of the bar, an entire section of people associated with Vernon’s fraternity crowd from wall to wall. Vernon manages to get you onto a stool at the bar top, shouldering one of the pledges off the seat with a narrow-eyed look. You raise your brows at him and he winks, leaning his elbow on the bar top to order you both drinks.

Spinning to face him in the stool, you give him a quick once over. You’d been so engrossed in your murdery mystery findings at the pizzeria that you haven't really looked at him until now. He looks good, dressed simply in dark jeans and a dark, long sleeve shirt that shows how broad he is. Has he always been that broad? 

Vernon catches you staring. “What are you looking at?” 

“Nothing.” 

He grins, accepting drinks from the bartender and sliding one over to you. You burn under the full weight of his attention as he pops his straw into his mouth. “Tell me.” 

“You look nice tonight.”

“You look nice every night.”

“Oh shut up.” 

“What?” he laughs. “I mean it.” 

“Whatever.”

Spinning in the chair again, you place your back to the bar, facing the crowd to watch people. Vernon is content to stand next to you in silence, both of you sipping your drinks as you observe the people around you. Someone jostles him a little closer, his arm shifting to lay across the bartop along your back. 

Heat creeps into your cheeks and you try to remain breathing normally. Vernon leaves his arm there, pressed against you but not exactly wrapped around you. There is a distinct difference, but this is still new. Still confusing. 

People who recognize you both come up and say hi. You keep the conversation polite and short, especially when you see the girl who has lingered at the last two parties slink toward you, her eyes only for Vernon. 

“Hi,” she yells over the crowd, totally ignoring you. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Why wouldn’t you? I’m friends with Jihoon.”

The girl opens and closes her mouth, lips pursed at that. You sense the serrated edged to Vernon’s words, casting a glance his direction. He’s not looking at her, eyes instead scanning the crowd. Uninterested. Even you know she didn’t literally mean she wasn’t expecting to see him - it was just a conversation starter. 

Using the opportunity to sip from your straw to hide your laughter, you have to admit you’re a little relieved to see Vernon missing social cues again. It’s more him, a Vernon that you're used to. Maybe a little meaner than usual, but this is closer. 

“Right,” the girl says. Her eyes flicker to you for the first time. “It’s his birthday, right?” 

“According to the giant sign in the corner and all the balloons, yes.” 

Okay, maybe it’s not entirely normal Vernon. Usually he isn’t so callous. In this case, you don’t mind, watching as she tries to puzzle out how to keep the conversation going. Vernon decides for you, turning from her to press his mouth close to your ear. 

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, breath hot against you. “I’m gonna greet Jihoon really quickly.” 

All you can manage is a breathy, “Alright.” 

Vernon finishes his drink and pushes off the bar, fingers dragging against you as he goes. He ignores the girl standing and watching, her eyes darting from you to him until he vanishes in the sea of bodies. Without Vernon there, she has nothing to do. She tilts her chin up, sucking up her pride and turns on her heel to walk a direction distinctly not the same way as Vernon.

Alone at the bar, you swivel in your seat to order you both another drink. You assume Vernon is drinking a whiskey coke, hoping that’s right as you flag down the bartender. While you wait, someone slips into the spot next to you. You turn, thinking Vernon’s already back only to find someone you definitely don’t know. 

“Sorry,” he shouts over the loud voices and music. “Did not mean to get in your personal space, this spot was way smaller than I thought it was.” 

“That’s okay! Getting a spot kind of sucks.”

“No kidding.” He grins at you, turning his attention back to trying to get anyone to take his drink order. “How long do you think it’ll take for them to notice me?” 

“About seven years.”

“Yikes. I’m Seokmin, by the way.” You give him your name and he grins. “What brings you to this shit hole ass bar?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday. You?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday indeed.”

A bartender finally comes over to take Seokmin’s order. He leans forward to shout over the crowd, his shoulder knocking into yours. You don’t mind - he’s nice. He looks over at you, a question on his face. “You like tequila?”

“No!”

“Let me rephrase - want a shot of tequila?” 

“She doesn’t.”

Vernon slides behind you, his palm pressed flat to your back. You startle, looking up at him in surprise. He isn’t looking at you, his eyes zeroed in on Seokmin. You slide Vernon’s drink toward him, eager to dispel the sudden tension thrumming through him.

“Whiskey and coke?”

He looks down, eyes rounding out a little as he softens. “Mhmm. Thank you.”

Drink in hand, Seokmin turns to you both and waves. “Y’all have a good night!”

When he’s gone, Vernon leans against the counter again, his tone flat as he says, “He was nice.”

“He was, but what do you sound bothered by it?”

“Maybe I am.” 

“Why?” 

He lifts a shoulder. Instead of answering you, he picks up the lime in his drink and squeezes it, stirring it with his straw before taking a long pull straight from the rim of the glass. 

You nudge him. “I’m going to say this again: you’ve been different, lately.” 

“Different how.” 

“I don’t know. You talk more. You’re a lot more engaging. You’re a little…” 

“A little what?”

“Cockier?” He hums, eyes dropping down to your mouth. “Like that,” you point out, voice a little weaker. “You do that now, and you didn’t used to.”

“I always did. I’m just a little more obvious about it now.”

Tension crackles between the two of you. Your mouth feels dry as you watch him, reading the minute expressions of his face. Finally, when you can’t unpuzzle him, you say, “I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell if you’re coming onto me or if it’s some sort of game to you.” That makes him frown as he sips his drink again. Your fear and frustration clash, wrestling for dominance. “It makes things confusing.”

“Why didn’t you say so? I’m happy to clear things up.” 

You grip your glass, trying to keep your fingers from quaking. This moment feels like it’s all or nothing. Vernon puts it out on the table so easily, leaving the option to you. Either you can ask for clarity, or keep playing this new game of cat and mouse. But you have to decide. 

“I would appreciate it if you did,” you say eventually. 

Vernon nods and finishes the rest of the drink. He sets the glass down before he leans forward, hand going to the underside of your chin to lightly tip your face upward with his knuckle so he can press the world’s most gentle kiss to your mouth. 

You freeze. When he doesn’t pull away, lips soft and warm, you sigh into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut. He feels you relax, mouth curling in a smile against yours. He steps into your space without breaking the kiss, finding the space between your legs as his lips press firmer to yours. 

Vernon smells like his cologne and something distinctly him. It makes you dizzy, and the way he tastes like whiskey and lime makes the room spin. When he pulls away from him, you feel like you’re going to fall from the stool, leaning toward him. 

His hands grip your thighs, squeezing generously as he leans in and drags his mouth to your ear. “Does that clear things up?” 

“Actually, no?” 

His groan is throaty, turning into laughter as he buries his face in your neck. Your hands tentatively settle on his waist, a little hesitant. “I always said you were the smartest person at school, but maybe not.”

“Hey!” 

“Come home with me.” He feels your delay, laughing. “Come home with me because I like you. Is that clearer? Because I want you to come home with me, and I don’t want anyone else here.” 

Your heart goes bolting like a rabbit, running in circles. Vernon pulls away from you to study your face. You watch him for any sign that he’s kidding, that he doesn’t mean it. You find none. In its place, you only see honesty. Hunger. Fiery desire burning at the surface. 

“Really?” Your question is small. Vulnerable. “Do you mean that?”

“I do.” He tugs on your thighs. “I’m not playing games with you. Come home with me - I’ll prove I’m serious about you. You are what I want. I just had to be sure.” 

Lightheaded and heart slamming, you let Vernon pull you from the seat and lead you out of the bar. 

-

Vernon’s apartment on the north side of town is a place you’ve been a million times. You recognize all the cars in the parking lot, and you know exactly what building and floor belongs to him. You even recognize his neighbors come in mat that you’ve always hated. 

He catches you staring at it with distaste now, laughing as he shakes his head and inserts his keys. “You and that mat.”

One hand works the keys into the door while the other is stretched behind him, fingers linked with yours. Your hand is warm and your heart is still racing as he gets the door open, pulling you inside the dark of his home. 

“They could be inviting anything in,” you assert, a little breathless as he pulls you to his chest. He kicks the door shut, the frame rattling as it slams. “You should never have a doormat that just welcomes whatever shows up at your door inside. You could end up with a vampire in your home.”

“A vampire, huh?” Vernon ducks his head towards your neck, lips skimming your throat. Your fingers twist in the hem of his shirt, eyes fluttering closed as his teeth scrape against your pulse point. “Sounds scary.” 

“It is. There’s nothing to disprove that vampires exist.” 

Vernon bites down and you whine, melting into him. His laugh vibrates through his chest as his tongue presses to the bite mark, soothing the pain. His mouth closes over the spot and he sucks gently, sending a shiver through your body. 

“I promise the only thing biting you will be me.”

The full weight of his words hit you between the legs. You feel like putty in his hand as he navigates you to the island counter in his kitchen. He presses your back into it, careful not to jam you too harshly against the marble. 

Heat licks through your stomach as Vernon steals your lips in a kiss. It’s different from the gentle one he gave you at the bar. This one drinks you in, pries you open and lets you spill out into him, all the feelings and bottled thoughts you have free for the taking.

You get lost in him, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him close, fingers sliding through his hair. He moans and you respond, curling your fingers to scrape your nails against his scalp. His hips twitch forward, pinning you between him in the counter as he sucks your bottom lip harshly. 

“Be careful,” he warns, a hand drifting from your chin to your neck. He doesn’t wrap his fingers around your throat, but his hand rests there, heavy and wanting. “I’m trying to be gentle.” 

You steal a kiss, nipping his bottom lip sharply. “Don’t be.”

His resounding groan makes you dizzy. His kisses become rough and heated, using his tongue as much as his teeth. He presses you hard into the countertop now, the marble digging into your back as he nearly folds you in half with the weight of his body. 

It feels like the air has left the room. Vernon is the only thing you need to breathe in, fueled by the way his tongue licks into you, the gentle squeeze of his hand at the base of your throat. His fingers press against your pulse, not enough to cut off any airflow but enough to send a bolt of pleasure and thrill through you. 

“You have no idea,” Vernon pants, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your jawline. “How long I’ve waited to do this. I could have had you this entire fucking time, but I held myself back.” 

His thumb presses under your jaw, angling your head to the side. With more access to your throat, he peppers you in bites and kisses, tongue soothing each sting. “I have wasted so much time,” he mutters, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Being a fucking coward.”

“Don’t say that,” you gasp as his other hand presses between your legs. The ache in your cunt is already throbbing, and he does nothing but make it worse by adding pressure but doing nothing more. “Please don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” He pulls away from you. Before you can complain, he gives you a quick kiss, tugging you toward his room. “I shouldn’t have waited until I had a little… encouragement to do this. I’m going to give you everything you want, love.”

A quiver slithers down your spine at the shortened version of your nickname. The new endearment hits home when you see the way he looks at you, the want and desire more unrestrained than anything else you’ve ever seen on his expression. 

Hand in yours, he pulls you into the bedroom, spinning you to sit you down on the edge of his bed. You look up at him through your lashes, admiring the shape of his face and the way you can just barely see his freckles in the soft glow from the nightlight in his bathroom as he slots himself between your knees. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” Vernon whispers, voice like velvet. He slides a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze even higher as he watches you, eyes blown. “I’m entirely devoted to you and you only. You know that, right?” 

Vernon’s thumb pulls at your bottom lip. You open your mouth on instinct and he growls low in his throat. He pushes his thumb past your swollen lips, pressing down on your tongue. You taste the lime from earlier and the hint of salt on his skin, closing your mouth as you suck gently. 

“Fuck,” he swears, thumb pressing harder. “You really have been a little slut for me this entire time, huh?” 

Hearing Vernon say it in that deep, whispered voice of his does something to you. There’s a note in his voice you’re unfamiliar with, a dangerous edge that you want to lean into and cut yourself on. So you nod, lashes fluttering as you bat them up at him. 

“Yeah, thought so.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging it spit-slicked down your chin. “Lay back on the bed for me, love.” 

You do so immediately, shuffling backward so that you can lean back. The sheets smell like him and you tilt your head to the side, nuzzling his comforter a little. You try to ground yourself, feeling a little staticky as he kneels on the bed, mattress dipping. 

Vernon plants a knee between your legs, leaning forward to cage you in with a hand on either side of your head. His kiss is all consuming, any sense of delicacy gone. You let him devour you, your hands pulling at his belt loops to bring him closer.

He’s not close enough, never close enough. 

Having him like this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. He’s familiar, the scent of him and the warmth of his skin and the little sounds he makes but he’s also entirely new. He is rougher than you imagined, sharper than you thought. He drags his blunt nails over your collarbone as he pulls your shirt away from your neck, giving his mouth access to litter your skin with kisses. 

Your hands slip under his shirt, curious as you press the pads of your fingers into his stomach. You feel the muscles flex and he hums low in his throat, enjoying your exploration as you slide your hands around the perfect taper of his waist to the small of his back. 

Vernon slides his knee higher, pressing it directly to your clothed cunt. You twitch against him, a questioning sound leaving your lips as you breathe in sharply. 

“Go ahead,” he mumbles against your chest, one pulling sharply at your shirt. You hear the seams rip and you don’t even care. “Take what you need, love.” 

The rawness of his words fucks you up. You do as he says, rolling your hips against his thigh for any sort of pressure and friction. It helps relieve the tension a little, but not nearly enough. Your breathing turns ragged as he harshly bites and kisses his way to your bra. 

Yanking hard, he rips the rest of your shirt. You let out a throaty laugh and he looks up at you, eyes like burning coals. “What’s so funny, hmm?”

“I did not expect you to be able to rip my shirt.” 

“Oh?”

The dangerous note in his voice makes your hips stutter and stop. He runs the tip of his tongue around the soft curve of your chest, watching you all the while and fuck. If you’d realized that this was the type of Vernon you’d get, maybe you’d have been braver sooner. Because this Vernon is something else, confident and cocky and ravenous. 

“Want me to rip this too?” He teases, teeth pulling at the cup of your bra. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, a little overwhelmed. “Say the word.”

“Maybe salvage some of my clothing, Vernon.”

“Fine. I will not salvage you, though.”

You believe him. Nothing about the way Vernon peels your bra off of you is gentle. Nothing about the way his hand cups your breast, squeezing before he lowers his mouth to give a generous suck to your nipple feels like he has your survival in mind. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let Vernon have his way. It feels like he’s peeling you open layer by layer, plucking every string connected to your pleasure that he can find.

His mouth is a weapon, tongue lazily circling your pert nipple until you’re whining and squirming under him. He laughs and drags his tongue to the other side of your chest, licking his way to your peak to tease you further. 

“Shit,” you whisper, one hand leaving his back to tangle in his hair. You don’t know if you’re pulling him away or pushing him closer - maybe both. “Vernon.”

His teeth scrape your nipple and you whine. He shuts you up by closing his mouth around you, sucking sharply. When he pulls away with a loud pop, you let out a shaky breath. 

“You can barely keep it together,” he observes. He placed closed mouth kisses on your stomach as he descends, pulling his knee from between your thighs. “What are you gonna do when I eat you out, huh?”

Flushed and embarrassed, you cover your face as his tongue licks the skin above your jeans. “Cat got your tongue, love?” 

“You - you’re - ugh!”

He chuckles, popping the button of your jeans. “I’m ugh?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Vernon tugs on your jeans. You try to lift your hips to help him, but your thighs are like jelly already, turning you useless. He coos at you, pressing a kiss to your hip gently. “I got you.” 

Unsure if he means about your inability to get out your fucking pants or he understand what you mean, you let him peel them down the rest of the way. His hands skate up your calves, squeezing and firm as he sinks to his knees on the floor. 

Bracing yourself, you brave a look between your legs where he presses your thighs open gently with his palms. Veronon’s eyes are on the apex of your thighs, entirely focused on where your underwear stick to your folds. He licks his lips, hand brushing up and down your thighs. 

His gaze flickers to you. For a moment, the two of you just stare at one another. You feel overly exposed, naked from the waist up, cool air pebbling your spit-slicked chest. The weight of his gaze presses you down like a physical thing, but it’s comforting. Warm. Reassuring. 

The air is charged between you as he keeps watching you while he drags a hand up and between your legs. He presses a thumb between your folds and you whimper, feeling the way he prods at your aching entrance, only the thin fabric keeping him out.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asks, thumb slowly dragging up the damp patch to your clit. He digs in sharply, pressing firm enough that your pleasure spikes and your hips pop off the bed. He hisses at you and smacks your thigh, making you lower your ass to the bed again. “Everytime we were together, did you get like this?” 

It takes effort to rasp, “Sometimes.”

Vernon hooks his thumb in the side of your pants, pulling. The fabric peels back achingly slow, cool air hitting your cunt and making you whine. He hums thoughtfully, placing the fabric to the side.

“Like what times?” he questions, blowing cool air against you. You thrash and he laughs, pinning you down by the hips. “I’m curious. Elaborate for me.” 

“Umm.” 

It’s the only word you can get out before he renders you speechless, the flat of his tongue sliding slowly up your pussy. You go boneless, breath stuck in your chest as his tongue lazily circles around your clit and drags back down. He repeats the motion, the slow-soft brush of his tongue driving you insane instantly. 

“You’re not elaborating,” Vernon notes. He presses a kiss that is far too sweet for the moment to your bundle of nerves. “I wanna know all the times you were with me where you felt like this. Go on.” 

“I don’t,” you breath catches when his tongue curls through your folds. He’s soft and slow as he licks you, a lazy smoothless to it that makes you see stars. “Know how to speak when you’re doing that.” 

“Should I stop?” 

“No.”

“Try,” he murmurs, dipping his tongue in your dripping entrance. “I want to know.” 

Fuck. Trying to pull together any coherent thoughts is like wading through thick water. You’re distracted by the way Vernon’s mouth closes on you, sucking gently. He takes his time, fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he keeps you open, enjoying you fully. 

“I - shit - I guess sometimes when we go out,” you manage. “I like when you wear your hat backwards.” 

He flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit, making you clench, toes curling. His mouth is wet and warm, closing around your throbbing bundle and sucking gently. Your hips lift but his grip is firm, keeping his mouth to you. 

When he pulls away, the suction is audible, a string of spit and arousal connecting his lips to your pussy. “Taste so fucking good,” he whispers. You think it’s more to himself than you, his tongue carving through you again. “Tell me more.” 

“Halloween night. When you were in skull makeup.”

His tongue starts circling your clit again, the indirect stimulation driving you wild. Your hands tangle in the sheets, sweat slicking your skin as Vernon works to firmer motions. You realize he knows exactly how you like it, gentle to start, working you to firmer motions, a little hungrier. 

It makes him all the more lethal, the way he can just figure you out like that. “Yeah?” he asks, sucking harshly against you. “Wanted me to fuck you like that?” 

“God, yeah.”

“You should have asked. I’ll fuck you however you want.” 

“Didn’t think you liked me.” 

Vernon is too busy to answer, increasing the attention of his mouth. Your hands slide down to his, nails digging into the tops of his hands where he holds you. He lets go of your hips in favor of linking your fingers, pressing your clasped hands to the mattress. 

His name drips from your mouth, eyes falling shut as you sink into the pleasure deep in your stomach. He makes little sounds of pleasure, grunting and groaning as his mouth becomes more fervent. You feel yourself toeing the edge of an orgasm, so so so close.

He can tell too. He finds a harsh rhythm, pulling you closer and closer to your high with each sharp suck of his lips. You twist in his grip, fingers squeezing his so hard you think you might break his hands. You don’t, feeling your breath catch and hold as you come hard, thighs squeezing as you writhe on the bed.

You draw in a ragged breath, desperate for air as he kisses your cunt once. Twice. His slick mouth presses against your thighs, teeth dragging against soft flesh as he mouths his way to your knee. He gives you a moment, letting you pant against the sheets. 

Fabric sticks to your skin as you wiggle against the bed. He stands up, crawling up you again to find your mouth. You lean forward, catching him in an open-mouth kiss that is more tongue than anything, your taste heady in the heat of his mouth. 

“Turn over on your stomach for me,” he groans. His hands squeeze your side as he gives you room to follow his direction. You do, but not without his help, your orgasm making you a little clumsy. “Can you get on your knees for me?”

“Maybe?”

“I’ll help you in a second.”

Instead of moving, you lay slumped on the bed, fully intending to let him do the work. You turn your head to watch him pull his shirt off, revealing firm, tan skin. Vernon is beautiful, the sleek lines of his body reminding you of a painting. He kicks off his jeans before shuffling back on the bed behind you, looking down and snorting.

“Didn’t want to move like I asked?” You shake your head. He pats your ass lightly. “Come on, darling. Help me get these panties off or I will rip them off.” 

Huffing, you do as he says. He does lend you his strength hauling you up by the arm as you lean up on your knees. The room is cold, making you shiver but he presses your back to his chest, mouth dusting kisses over your shoulders. 

Vernon’s fingers dance along your sides until he’s pulling your underwear the rest of the way down your thighs, helping you kick out of them. When he’s got you full naked, he presses your back to him, crowding your space as he angles your head to kiss you slowly. Fully. 

Behind you, his cock presses firmly into your ass. You push back against him, putting pressure against his shaft. He hisses, biting your shoulder harshly. 

“Careful,” he growls, teeth at your neck. “Or I won’t be very nice.” 

“Want you, though.”

“You’ll have me when I say you can.” 

One of his hands slides up to your neck, gripping your throat lightly. He pauses, leaning to catch your gaze. His eyes are round and soft. Honest. Open. “This okay?” He questions gently. He gives a little squeeze to indicate what he means. You nod eagerly, reaching a hand to close around his, making him press harder. “Fuck you’re perfect.” 

You lean your head back against his chest as he holds you by the throat, one of your hands dropping to his elbow, the other reaching behind you to sink your fingers in his hair and tug. The sound he makes is feral, the hand he has placed on your waist dropping between your legs, fingers pressing between them. 

“Oh,” you squeak, feeling his deft tough on your clit. His movements are aided by your earlier release, fingers circling smoothly as he squeezes your throat, thumb pressed perfectly, to make it just a little harder to breathe. “Shit.” 

“Can you tell me a safe word? Not gonna go hard, just wanna know if it becomes too much.” 

“Maenad.” He snorts and you huff. “I just wrote an essay on them, don’t start.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Alright. Just please use it if it’s too much - any of it. If you can’t talk, pat my arm, alright? Just wanna do this right.” 

You nod, so in love with him it takes all of you to stop yourself from blurting it. 

Vernon shuffles behind you, letting you tilt forward a little. The hand between your legs leaves and he instead brings it behind you, prodding at your pussy with his fingers from behind. You let out a loud sound and you can almost feel his grin as he presses a finger into your heat. 

He’s slow at first, the same way he was with his mouth. He explores what you like, testing the way his fingers drag against your walls combined with different grip strengths on your throat. You feel light headed. The room spins as he finds a rhythm that draws the most noises from you, that makes you clench down on his finger the most. 

All of your weight is against the hand around your neck, barely able to hold yourself up as he presses another finger in. This time, his fingers prod right against that soft spot inside of you, making you see stars. He must realize he’s found it, because he starts finger fucking you in earnest. 

The grip on your throat loosens a little, careful not to keep you short of breath for too long as he works your cunt with his hand. His lips find your shoulder, peppering you with light kisses that are delicate and butterfly soft in comparison to the way his fingers fuck into you. 

“Vernon,” you whisper, only able to think of his name. “Vernon vernon vernon.”

“Doing so good, darling,” he whispers against your skin. He kisses his way to your ear, sucking the sensitive spot on your neck. “So fucking good for me.” 

His words hit below the belt. You shudder in his hold, letting him drive you toward another release. You never imagined Vernon to be talkative in bed, but he is, his voice like velvet. Just like that. Perfect for me. There you go, come on. 

Everything about him is perfect, driving you to mania. His grip on your throat tightens suddenly, sensing how close you are to your second peak. Your breath quickens until you can’t breathe, going mute against him as his fingers press hardly into that spot over and over and over.

A high-pitched ring winds in your ears. You hold and hold and hold and when Vernon lets go of your throat, a gust of air flooding your lungs, you shatter around his hand. You collapse backward against him, head knocking into his. You don’t even care, twitching and gasping against him as his hand stills. 

For a few moments, you just lean against him like that, sweaty and lost and in a dream. Slowly, you become aware of his pounding heart against your back and the slick between your thighs. Vernon’s mouth is pressed to your shoulder, waiting patiently as you blink a few times, the room swimming into view.

“Hi,” he murmurs, watching you with shadowy eyes.

“Hi,” you croak, voice rough.

“Good?”

“Very.” 

“Want to stop?”

“No. Unless you want to.”

His gaze darkens. “I don’t.” 

“I want more. I can take more.” 

He lifts his head and presses a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re perfect for me. Do you know that?” 

Reverent hands help you lay back against the pillows. Vernon touches you like you’re something delicate - not because he thinks you’re fragile, but because you’re something important to him. Valuable. You see it in the way he looks down at you, taking a moment to drink you in. 

There’s something else there too. Something edged with a knife, a little wild. Covetous. There is something in the way Vernon grips your leg briefly, a language he’s trying to communicate to you with touch. 

Mine, it says. Mine and no one else's.

With hooded eyes, you watch him peel his briefs off. Your eyes shoot to where his cock hangs heavy, beads of precum dripping at his tip. You reach a hand up toward him but he shakes his head, careful as he shuffles toward you.

“Later,” he promises. “I like touching you.” 

“I want you to feel good.”

“You make me feel good. Seeing you unravel makes me feel good. I like seeing how much you enjoy me touching you.”

You can tell he means it. His lips are swollen and soft when he kisses you. You open your legs open for him, letting him settle between the softness of your thighs. Vernon runs the head of his cock through your messy fluids, earning a whine for you.

“Sensitive?” he asks against your lips, nose nudging yours. You nod and you feel him smile. “Sorry.”

“Feels good,” you assure him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Want more.” 

“Greedy thing.” 

“I’m Your greedy thing.”

Your words have the desired effect. You feel a shiver ripple through him, Vernon’s grip on your leg turning to iron as he opens you up wider. He presses his cock into your entrance slowly, pausing just as the tip pops in. You throb around him, whispering his name - begging him to keep going. 

Vernon’s grin is sharp as he sinks in further, the slide tortuous and wonderful and so much as he finally finds home, hips pressed as far as he can go. He stays like that, tangling your tongue in a messy kiss as he sits there, fully seated in your heat. Your pussy spasms around him, pressed open to the max. 

“Feels so good,” he whispers, dropping his forehead to yours. “I’m going to come embarrassingly fast.”

“So do it.” You wrap a leg around his waist, your hips tilting upward. Both of you moan at the angle change, so close to breaking. “I wanna see it.” 

Instead of answering, he nods. He drags his hips backward slowly before slamming back in. He punches the breath out of your lungs with each slide home, the stroke slow but deep. Your head falls to the side, breaths rasping as he sets a steady, slow pace. 

It feels good, your legs curling around him to keep you close, hands tangle in his hair to keep him tethered to you. His hair is damp with sweat, your fingers curled in the strands, tugging a little. He seems to like it, making a needy sound in his throat that has you grinning. 

“Mine,” Vernon whispers to you, words muffled by your neck. “You are only mine, darling. You will only ever be mine. You were made for me. No one else.”

“No one else,” you agree. 

His hips move faster, a little messier. You egg him on, legs squeeze, cunt spasming around him. He lets out a feral sound, driving himself further to his orgasm. He drags you with him, another swell reaching you. Vernon can tell, chasing it like a predator, pinning you down and slamming his cock into you until you’re melting around him again, vision blotted out. 

Vernon comes to the sound of his name on your lips. His movements become sloppy until he can’t go anymore, holding himself above you, trembling. Carefully, he drops next to you, pulling his cock free. You feel your joint fluids run down your leg, but you’re too tired to care. 

Reaching for him, your hand finds his chest. He wraps his fingers around yours, holding your palm to him, his heart thudding wildly under your touch.

“For you,” he mutters. “Only for you, darling.” 

You fall asleep like that, hand pressed to his chest.

-

Waking up in Vernon’s bed is not new to you. You’ve fallen asleep numerous times at his apartment or stayed the night after going out, but you’ve always had the bed to yourself, Vernon opting to take the couch. 

The bed is empty now, but still warm. You stretch as you roll over in his sheets, groaning as you feel the soreness between your legs and mostly everywhere else. Pressing your hand to your chest and shoulders, you feel all the tender places Vernon mapped his affection with tongue and teeth. It makes you smile fondly as you lay in bed alone for a minute, breathing in the scent of his room.

Slowly, you peel yourself from his bed. With an awkward waddle, you make it to the bathroom, flicking on the light. You shield your eyes at first, going about your morning routine and washing your face to try and feel human again. 

On your way out, something catches your eye. You frown, walking back toward his laundry hamper where you see brass glinting in the light. You reach for it, pulling the bell from the tangle of his clothes. It has an old wooden handle with cracks, a little hand bell used for-

Well. Used the night of halloween. You have no idea why Vernon still has it, the memory of that night like poison in your mouth. You toss it back into the hamper on top of another shirt that catches your eye. It’s one of his dark green t-shirts, but the collar is stained dark brown.

Curious, you pull it out, shaking the shirt out in front of you. It’s mostly unmarked, save for the spatter of something dark brown and dried. You run your finger around the edge of it, puzzled. It looks like dried blood, but you can’t recall any injuries he’s suffered recently. 

You take the shirt with you into his room, tossing it on his bed as you get dressed, stealing sweatpants and a hoodie. Grabbing the shirt again, you trail out toward the kitchen where Vernon is making breakfast, the smell of bacon crackling in the pan.

You grin, leaning against the doorframe for a second to watch him. He looks so at ease, flipping pieces of bacon while he sings to some seventies song you don’t know the name of. 

Pushing off the wall, you head toward him. He catches you in his peripheral, turning his head and smiling at you. “Hello, Darling.” 

The nickname gives you pause. You slow as you come around the corner of the counter, stopping completely as the endearment pricks you sharply on the back of your neck. Vernon goes back to flipping bacon, singing along a song you vaguely know, but don’t know why Vernon does. He’s never liked music from the 1970s, and-

Your ears start to ring. Several things occur to you at once. 

The memory of Vernon screaming and banging his fists against the door, begging for help. You’d been so afraid that you ripped the door open, crashing through the line of salt. 

Vernon, sharp and confident, the new edge to him as he interacts with people, a little harsher. A little darker.

Nah need to cut back on the sodium had said when you asked about the lack of salt on his fries.

The way he’d called you darling the night before, whispering it against your skin. 

70s music that Vernon has never listened to since you’ve known him.  

The bell sitting in the hamper used to call a spirit on Halloween. 

In the house that belonged to the Hello Darling Murderer.

Brown stains - like blood - on his shirt. 

Carefully, you learn toward the middle of the counter, watching Vernon like a prey skirts a predator. With trembling hands, you gently grab the salt from where it sits next to the pepper. You hold your breath, trying not to draw his attention as you unscrew the top of it, placing the metal lid on the shirt to keep it quiet. 

With as silent steps as you can manage, you cross to the other side of the kitchen where you’re out of his line of sight. Tipping the salt over, you pour it across the tile from counter to fridge, eyes darting between the barrier of white and the man standing in the kitchen humming. 

Your heart hammers. 

Your hands shake. 

Salt shaker empty, you set it on the counter and take a few steps back. It’s an unbroken line of salt, and though it doesn’t trap him in the kitchen, at least it’s there. 

Vernon turns around with the pan of bacon. He sees you and his humming stops, cocking his head to the side. He notices the empty salt shaker. Frowns. Looks at you. Looks at the ground where you’ve drawn a line of salt. 

For a second, he just stares at it. His eyes flick back up to you, warm and brown but narrowed. 

“Why is there salt all over my floor?” 

“Cross it.” 

“Huh?”

“Step over the line of salt.” 

Silence stretches between you. He remains standing in the kitchen, pan in hand, music playing in the background.

When Vernon doesn’t move, you can see everything so clearly. 

Vernon hadn’t been joking when he slammed his hands on the door begging for help on Halloween. A sick feeling roils in your stomach as you remember the panicked screams, the way his fists hammered the door. 

Your next words come out as a hiss. “Cross the line of salt, Vernon.”

He looks at the salt and purses his lips before sighing and setting the pan down on the stove. He tosses the rag from his shoulder and shakes his head, striding over to the white line you made against his tile. He stops in front of it, looking at you with his eyebrows raised as if to say really?

“Well, do it.”

Vernon looks down at the salt. Looks back up to you. Down at the salt. 

And then he laughs. 

“Fuck, you really are the smartest person in school.” He sighs heavily, a gaze darker than anything you’ve ever seen on his face as he stares at you. “You know I can’t cross that line of salt, darling.” 

-

TAG LIST:

Tag list has not been used for this fic - there weren't enough character blocks left over for it because Tumblr sucks.

[astrolovecosmos]

Kleopatra/Cleopatra Asteroid

The asteroid Kleopatra (216), is sometimes also referred to as "Cleopatra" with a debated history on whether the asteroid represents more of power and beauty or aspects of love and relationships. Below I've laid out the two ways this asteroid is typically talked about. But keep in mind, it is only one body, asteroid 216. Kleopatra - Strength, charisma, feminine leadership, power, breaking taboos, feminine beauty

Cleopatra - The impression and power of your love and relationships, how you are remembered or idolized, actions and leadership taken in love, fierce loyalty or passion

Aries: Kleopatra - Always has a sword in hand. Sexy confidence. A conqueror. Bold, feisty, and/or hot-blooded in their charisma. Stands out with their beauty. Cleopatra - Forward and quick in their devotion to others. Is open, honest, and defending towards their closest loved ones. Won't shy away from playing heroine. Makes strong, heated, impactful impressions on others.

Taurus: Kleopatra - Seductive and magnetic beauty. Has a steady and reliable strength. Unbothered. Leads with practicality and patience. Focuses on security, the body, and comfort. Cleopatra- Remembered for their loyalty, creativity, maybe their hard work. Enduring legacy. Actions are thought out and highly intentional. Always takes the peaceful route when possible.

Gemini: Kleopatra - Dazzling and enchanting beauty. People hang on her every word. Won't hide or dull her intelligence. Wins over hearts with wit, humor, and friendliness. Keeps a cool head and is fast with their decisions. Cleopatra- Her ideas may be timeless. Adaptable and supportive. Makes rational decisions for herself and loved ones. May love from a distance. Praises and persuades lovers. Being with them can be a rush.

Cancer: Kleopatra - Mysterious and quietly alluring. Protective and caring in a proactive way. Magical feeling. Has sacred and intuitive power. Cleopatra - Takes care of everyone. At the center of the family or community. Strong emotional presence. Can be unforgiving and cold, but also just as warm and giving. Is the ancestral karma.

Leo: Kleopatra - Their beauty can't be forgotten or down played. Naturally takes the lead. Magnetic and romantic. Lots of self-respect. Does what she wants and what she needs bravely. Cleopatra - Is the queen or goddess of others' lives. Generous and affectionate. Regal nature. Legendary individual.

Virgo: Kleopatra - Has "knows what she's doing" energy. Tempting beauty. Impressive intellect and/or skills. The type people get obsessed with. Is empowered by embracing their flaws. Cleopatra - Makes sure her loved one's know their worth. Known for her ability to help, heal, teach, or provide. Her knowledge gets passed down. Makes a difference.

Libra: Kleopatra - Stunning and dangerously beautiful. Gets her way. Balancing her power with peace. Being hard to understand can be part of her appeal. Jealousy, beauty, judgment, and logic are her tools. Her charm can shape affairs. Cleopatra - Loyal to ideals, partners, and teams. Diplomatic and fair. Tries to make others happy but when she is unhappy war can happen. Makes what is dark, ugly, or forbidden light, beautiful, or accepted.

Scorpio: Kleopatra- Bewitching, spellbinding all in her gaze. Magnetic, seductive, and mysterious. Vengeful, spiteful, manipulative, deep, passionate, she is powerful. Her beauty commands and controls. Cleopatra - Loyal to a fault, but a fierce or hard exterior. Might get involved in some crazy love stories. Occult vibes. Venomous to enemies, especially lovers to enemies. Leaves a wound and/or finds gold metaphorically for generations to come. Their family will bear their sins or blessings.

Sagittarius: Kleopatra - Others easily fantasize over their beauty. Takes people's breath away. Feral energy. Has a love for the new and exciting. Has an envious amount of self-faith. Wins over hearts and souls. Has the power of belief and knowledge. The truth is their weapon. Cleopatra - They may leave behind an inspiring legacy somehow. Is open hearted and passionate in love. Does everything in their power to keep their loved ones warm. Great at reading the room, making the party, and cheering others up. Their tongue may stop wars or start them.

Capricorn: Kleopatra - Has an unattainable beauty and appeal. Is self-controlled and ambitious. Calculated and ruthless. Can be hard to impress or win over. Is a firm and responsible leader. Has or listens to ancient wisdom. Cleopatra - Providing and protective over loved ones. Maybe stern and/or highly involved. Has a lot of inner authority. Careful with lovers. They will never lower their standards. They may take on burdens you don't even know about.

Aquarius: Kleopatra - Unconventional and awestriking beauty. Confident and charismatic. Befriends and impresses others with ease. A genius. Unpredictable storm, mess, or dance. Cleopatra - Willing to start a revolution, to face off the world, or go to war for their people. Can survive or cause chaos. Loves people fully for who they are. Goes to great, maybe even crazy lengths for what they want.

Pisces: Kleopatra - Otherworldly beauty. Others romanticize her and her life. She glows. Extremely intuitive. Imagination can be a weapon. She is perceptive and emotionally intelligent. Master of illusions. Cleopatra - Kind hearted. Forgiving, healing, and loving. Manipulative when needed. Spiritually powerful. Tolerant and at times enabling. Feels pain and joy with you. Gives good advice. Avoids trouble often, especially any they cause.

[okchijt]

Hey can you do eddsworld the main 4 with a s/o romantic head cannons

Author's Note: Thank you so much Anon for the request! So sorry it took so long in advance, I just finished my finals so I was really excited about this one and had a lot of fun with it! Hope you'll like it and that I didn't portray anyone OOC😅 And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy!❤

Edd

🟢 Edd would be the type of boyfriend that just wants to chill out and hang out with his partner. He's a very casual guy in every sense of the word, and so would be the relationship with him, with some physical contact and romantic gestures sprinkled in occasionally.

🟢 One of the most defining traits of your relationship is humor! You'd share inside jokes together and create made-up words only you two would understand, making the people Tom around you go insane over the nonsense you tell each other while laughing.

"How did the Coca-Cola can feel after being steamrolled?"

"It was soda pressed!"

"I fucking hate both of you"

Basically, Edd would do anything just to make you smile/laugh, no matter how stupid it might be, if he knows you find it amusing he'll say/do anything just to see your expression!

🟢 Edd likes to draw you a lot, you could be sitting, washing the dishes, playing with Ringo, reading, playing a game, etc, whatever you're doing, he will draw it! He just can't help himself, you look adorable to him no matter what you're doing so he just can't resist himself! Most of the time he'll try to be sneaky about it so you wouldn't notice so he can capture you on paper perfectly, smiling the whole time because you're his favorite thing to draw! Sometimes if he feels happy enough with the finished product, he'd present it to you shyly, hoping you'd like it.

🟢 Be grateful, because you're the only one that Edd allows to go anywhere his cola and even drink it! Being with him gives you the privilege of doing so without asking, normally if anyone else would even lay a hand on his favorite drink they'd have a rabid Edd to fight off, but with you, it's like he doesn't even notice! Which by itself says a lot about how much he loves you!

🟢 Edd might not seem like a great listener, which is true, but when it comes to you, it's a different story. Whether you just want to talk about your day or info dump him about your new hyper fixation, he'll listen to it all with a smile on his face, commenting on the things you said or asking questions. When you vent, he makes sure that you know his full attention is on you and you only. He'll listen to everything you have to say while rubbing your shoulder and once you're done, he'll hug you and try to give you some kind of advice or reassurance, even though he isn't the best at this type of stuff, he'll still try his best though. Because he can't stand to see you hurt.

🟢 Edds love language includes quality time and gift giving! He just loves spending time with you no matter what you're doing! If you're working and can't give him any attention, he'll just sit next to you or position himself where he's touching you in some type of way and just occupy himself with drawing while you do your thing. Whenever you're in a situation where you can't spend time with him, just simply letting him sit nearby and do his thing is enough for him to call it "spending time with you", cause honestly just being in the same room as you is enough for him.

🟢 As we established before, Edd likes to draw you. So logically gift giving for him is giving you drawings he made of you, you two together, or things that you like, like a favorite character or animal. He also takes requests from you whenever he doesn't have any idea of what to draw, and whatever you ask him to draw he will. When Edd has enough money, he'll spend it on some kind of gift for you that he knows you'll like. And he'll give it to you without expecting anything in return, all he needs is that excited expression of yours and a kiss on the cheek/lips and he knows spending the money was worth it.

🟢 PDA isn't one of Edd's main love languages, but he still does it to a casual degree. He's not overly clingy, but he's not distant either, he's more casual with the way he expresses his physical love to you. Like when you sit together on the couch he puts his arm around you or when you're walking on the street he holds your hand. Edd prefers to shower you with more bold PDA behind closed doors though, that's when he's the most romantic as well. He'll give you lots of cuddles and kisses, praising you and telling you how much he loves you as well. It's not that Edd is embarrassed to show this side of himself in front of others, he just feels like sharing those moments between the two of you makes it have more meaning behind it.

🟢 Edd is really opportunistic when it comes to kissing, and by that I mean he'll only do it if he feels like the moment is right or is in the mood to do so. Maybe you do something adorable, and he just can't help but kiss you wherever he can reach you first. Edd's kisses are sweet and gentle, he likes to hold you whenever he does so too. Outside of your lips, Edd likes to kiss you on the cheek the most, he finds it comforting and likes to think of it as teasing that instead of kissing you on the lips, he kisses the place closest to it, he likes feeling like a little shit sometimes, what can I say?

🟢 Will cuddle with you a lot, especially if it's a lazy day for him or he's feeling down. Edd likes to be the big and the little spoon when cuddling, it just depends on how he's feeling. As the big spoon, he'll press you to his chest while laying his head on top of yours. But as a little spoon, it's the opposite, he'll bury his head in your chest, giving you easy access to his hair. When I tell you this guy will immediately melt as soon as you start tangling your hands into his hair, you swear you can hear him purr sometimes as you play with it. Edd is honestly the best cuddling option you can get, he's extremely soft and during winter he will warm you up with no problem, and during summer he somehow is still great to cuddle with because his temperature changes with the climate you can say. Cuddling Edd is like hugging a giant soft teddy bear. Best feeling ever, I tell you!

🟢 Edd isn't clingy, but boy does he get jealous of you when he feels threatened by others sometimes! He doesn't really think much of other people interacting with you, if they're just being friendly and don't try to pull any moves on you he might even join in on the conversation or just let you have your fun while vaguely paying attention. But that all changes once he hears the other person starting to flirt with you and being a little bit too touchy for his liking. He'll pay closer attention to both of you as his expression changes from a neutral one to an irritated one, waiting for the right moment to step in as he forces himself to tolerate what's happening until he gets a clear sign from you that he should step in. As soon as he sees a sign of you getting uncomfortable he's already next to you as he puts his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them with reassurance as he gives the person a threatening smile as he says: "My partner and I need to go, goodbye!" And with that, Edd immediately pulls you away from the person and begins to drag you home. The whole way back, Edd would be uncharacteristically very touchy with you, he'd press you against him hard and hold your waist tightly as he grumbles under his breath over what happened. Jealous Edd is a rare sight for you, but when he is jealous he deals with the situation quickly and swiftly to avoid confrontation, his goal only being to get you out of the situation as fast as possible.

🟢 Dates with Edd range from casual to exciting ones! They both really depend on your/his mood, to be honest. He'd take you to a cat cafe and go crazy over the cats with you while drinking and eating delicious desserts. He loves taking you to arcades! It's an excuse for both of you to have fun while calling it a date simultaneously. Edd would just take you to places he knows you'll like or are located in the town you two live in. Though when an occasional theme park comes along, you bet Edd is dragging you there right away no questions asked! If it's a special day of yours or just an anniversary, Edd will try to be a little bit fancier and take you out somewhere nice, like a restaurant or to a movie that is extremely romantic/dramatic that he thinks you'll like or fit the "fancy" category he made up in his head.

🟢 Edd is the most basic type of boyfriend out there I tell ya! All he wants is to be with or near you all day and every day and that's all he needs! He doesn't need to have an especially romantic life with you, but he isn't neglectful either, he's just somewhere in the middle. He'll change on a whim though if you tell him to show one of his sides more often because he just wants to make you happy! He's the type of guy to shower his love on you in private while in public some people aren't even sure if you two are dating or not because of how casual he is. I think Edd in a way is near-perfect boyfriend material for does that find his specific traits attractive, and as one of those people I say he would make a great boyfriend!

Matt

🟣 Matt would be the type of boyfriend that wants to spend every single moment with you and to love you to no end type of guy. He's probably the most romantic out of the four of them, so he'd make sure all the moments you spend together show that.

🟣 It comes to everyone's surprise that someone like Matt would fall in love with someone who isn't him and even love them on the same level as he does, but here we are! To him, you are the most incredible thing in the world, someone he feels can even compete with his handsome face! He makes sure to remind you of that fact every day, because why wouldn't he? Your looks and personality are everything to him, so much so that he forgets about his narcissistic views sometimes.

🟣 In fact, Matt will do anything when it comes to helping you feel better about your appearance! Say you wanna try out a new haircut or wanna change your style, Matt is right there with you through all of it, even participating in the changes himself. He'd do your makeup, nails, hair, even skincare routine, whatever it is, Matt wants to be there and be a part of it, he calls it bonding time!

🟣 Matt doesn't usually care if other people appreciate his beauty like he does, to him only his opinion matters. But once you come into the picture, your opinion means the world to him! Anytime you compliment him, call him your: "Handsome man", or anything of that sort, this man is dying on the floor because of the amount of love and affection he's feeling because of you. No one else's opinion matters about his face or anything related to him, but yours and he makes sure you and everybody around you know that just by his reactions alone.

🟣 Since you two are dating, you are bound to get dragged by Matt to buy or find something to add to his novelty collection. You'd go on your own set of adventures for the sole purpose of expanding his collection. Matt really appreciates you going with him, it just shows to him how much you are willing to put up with for him. For some, his hobby just seems like something that doesn't matter or an inconvenience, but you don't, and he truly loves that about you. Matt 100% has a will written down somewhere that says: "If anything happens to me, give all of my novelty collection to (Y/N)''.

🟣 Matt's love language includes words of affirmation and quality time! Matt's main go-to to showing how much he loves you is showering you with praise any chance he gets! You could be looking like a hobo or a supermodel, but that man will still call you the most attractive person in the universe! Any accomplishment, whether large or small is immediately met with him congratulating you like you just won an Oscar! Not to mention whenever you feel insecure or just down, Matt will make does feelings go away in a matter of seconds because of how innocent his love for you is, he knows every right word to use to show you how much you mean to him. And he'll remind you of that fact every day no matter who you are or what you do.

🟣 You'd think Matt's second love language would be physical touch, but nope! It's quality time, baby! But I think you know that based on the examples above. The point is, anything you wanna do, Matt has to be there doing that thing with you too! No matter if it's work or something boring, he needs to be there with you! If you're busy he'll sit with you in a way where he's basically touching you and as soon as you show any discomfort or mutter that you need something, Matt is on the way to get it! Even if you didn't technically ask him to do so. He's basically like a lost puppy just following you around everywhere without a care in the world.

🟣 Matt loves PDA, he adores it! Both giving and receiving affection are one of his favorite things about being in a relationship with you! The only reason why it's not his main love language is because he finds the other two more intimate, but this easily takes third place! Unlike Edd, Matt isn't afraid to go all the way out with his affection towards you, private or in public he is all over you to some degree. Kisses, hugs, holding hands, cuddles, he will grab any chance he gets to touch you in some way. If he could Matt would glue himself to you so that he can always be with you, that's how clingy he is with his love for you.

🟣 Kisses with Matt are literally the most purest and innocent thing in the world! He holds you against him as you kiss as if you were glass, that's how gentle he is with you! Expect a lot of muffled giggles and pleased sighs whenever you two kiss, he's just so happy to have you in his life like this that he just can't help himself! Outside of your lips, Matt adores giving you kisses on the nose! He just finds it charming and adorable in a way, especially when you give him a reaction in the process, he finds them precious. It may be childish, but he's a childish man so that adds up, plus nose kisses are the best!

🟣 Cuddles with Matt are a must in a relationship with him! No occasion is needed for him to just wrap you in his arms and lay with you comfortably for hours at an end. Matt is both big and little spoon, mostly leaning towards little spoon though. When he's the one holding you, and not squeezing the living daylights out of you. Matt would be laying on his back while you lay on top of him, with your head on his chest as he kisses the top of your head every now and then as his arms are tightly but comfortably wrapped around your upper back. But as a little spoon, Matt crawls himself into a ball as he buries himself into your chest, wanting to make it easier for you to hold him. He basically feels like a giant teddy bear! Though I won't recommend cuddling with Matt during winter without a blanket, man is always cold! But during summer, it's a different story, he's basically a cooler during the warm seasons, so literally perfect!

🟣 As established, Matt is clingy af so there's no surprise that the man will act super threatened as soon as he sees others laying their dirty hands on you in a flirty way. Until Matt senses a disturbance in the force, he'll tolerate the person interacting with you if it's just in a friendly way and if you clearly don't mind them talking with you as well. But as soon as the person enters the danger zone where they start to get flirty with you, Matt will glare daggers at them as a silent threat to get them to back off. Alongside that, he'll tug at your clothes gently and whine to you that you need to go with him as he stares at you with puppy eyes. If all of that fails and the rando will try to put his hands on you, Matt immediately jumps into action! Clinging to your back like a possessive koala as he smacks the person's hand away and screams: "NO! This gem is mine! Go find yours somewhere else!'' And with that, he picks you up by the waist with his arms wrapped around it and shuffles away like an awkward penguin while holding you with a big pout on his face. He'll only put you down once he calms down a bit or you protest hard enough, and once he does you better give him lots of kisses and reassurances as you let him cling to you in any way he can as you two head back home with a still slightly upset Matt.

🟣 Matt takes his dates seriously, that's why he always puts in the effort to make them super romantic! He'd take you to places any partner would on a typical date, movies, dinner, picnic in the park, star gazing, etc. With Matt, there is no such thing as a normal date, only the best of the best for his beloved! He'll dress up super fancy and always have some kind of gift with him to give you every time. Though Matt would be happy to comply with any date idea you have, elegant/traditional dates are always his go-to because of the romantic meaning behind them by society's and his standards.

🟣 Matt is the most loving and clingiest boyfriend out there, your existence alone makes him swoon so he doesn't need much outside of his novelty collection to be happy! He's utterly devoted to you and makes sure to show you that each and every day of your relationship, so much so that everybody around you two already knows you two are together without being told so. Matt would be the perfect boyfriend for those that want to feel loved to the extreme and feel appreciated by someone, and you'd feel all of that every day with him! Top-tier boyfriend material, I tell you! No complaints here!

Tom

🔵 Tom would be the type of boyfriend that isn't really great when it comes to relationships, but for you, he tries his very best to at least be decent. He'd purposefully try to go out of his comfort zone just to prove his love for you, wanting to show you that he actually cares even when he isn't the best at showing so sometimes, but he tries!

🔵 First of all, this mad lad broke up with his bass: Susan for you so that better show just how much he cares and loves you if he picked you over his most beloved bass! Speaking of Susan, Tom often makes up songs that he plays on his bass about/for you. To which you'd always have to beg him to play you some cause he's super embarrassed about them, but with enough reassurance, he'd play you some! And if you reward him with compliments or a kiss, he may just be inclined to show you more, gaining confidence each time.

🔵 And while on the subject of music! You two would always share/recommend each other's music taste! Tom really likes listening to the same music as you whether it's yours or his, he really enjoys the moment because it's just so intimate to him. You'd share headphones, you having one bud in your ear while Tom has the other, forcing each other to stay close, which Tom secretly enjoys very much as he can't help himself but relax each time you two do that.

🔵 We all know Tom's alcohol problem, especially with his favorite: Smirnoff, which he drinks any time he can. But when you two get into a relationship, Tom tries to step back from his alcoholism for your sake. Sure, he'd gladly drink with you if you'd like, but he'd actually pay attention to the amount he's drinking and stop once enough is enough. To be honest, your existence and the relationship make him want to be better for you, and that means acknowledging his problem and overcoming it step by step.

🔵 Whether you are someone that loves Christmas or hates it, depending on which, Tom will try his best to not ruin it for you and match your energy! If you're a Christmas lover, Tom wouldn't exactly act happy about the holiday with you, but you can tell he's really trying to hold back any negative comments about the holiday for your sake. Tom may hate Christmas, but he loves you enough to try his best to not ruin the holiday for you better reward him with affection afterwards cause boy does he need it! But if you're a Christmas hater, then you already know Tom is ruining the holiday with you while calling it a date!

🔵 Tom's love language includes acts of service and physical touch! Out of everything, Tom finds it easiest to express his love for you by doing things for you whether you asked him or not. It's because he can do it without overthinking whether what you're doing is okay or not because doing something for someone else naturally makes that person happy! You could have cooked something for you two and only stepped away for a second, only to come back and see Tom already doing the dishes and insisting that he's got it covered and that you go rest. Maybe you have a pet that needs to be let out or fed and you can't get out of bed to do so, you don't even need to ask and Tom is already on it and doing it for you with no complaints, not even expecting anything in return while doing so.

🔵 One wouldn't expect that one of the main two love languages Tom has is physical touch, but here we are! Tom is actually extremely touch-starved, but won't allow himself to be touched or touch someone else until he feels 100% safe with them. At the beginning of the relationship it took a while for Tom to open himself up to such affections, but the way you took things slow and steady for him really helped and he allowed himself to feel vulnerable with you. Tom loves to give you hugs from behind, you'll be doing something while standing and all of a sudden two arms wrap around you and you can feel his head burry itself in the crock of your neck. At that point he can't live without touching you, you're his rock and he needs you to feel stable and safe. He's always touching you in some way, no matter what you're doing or what position you are in.

🔵 PDA and physical touch are basically the same things, right? Anyways, while out in public Tom is way more reserved with you because he doesn't appreciate strangers staring at the two of you, he'd still be okay with hand-holding or a kiss on his favored spot every now and then, but in private? Tom goes crazy in private, (not as crazy as Matt or Tord but still!) Basically, any opportunity he gets to show you his love for you in a physical manner he takes it. It doesn't matter what you're doing, he is touching you in one way or another. Like I said, you are his rock, his safe haven, and without you near him he'd go crazy, so holding you, kissing, hugs, hand-holding, and everything else in between is what he'll shower you daily with! Please hold him too every once in a while, Lord knows he needs it and may even have a mental breakdown from the affection alone, but he loves it I promise.

🔵 In the beginning Tom was very awkward when it came to kissing, but he eventually got the hang of it and became more comfortable! They were also very unsure and timid at the beginning, forcing you to take the lead, but with each kiss, Tom became more confident, and now he likes to kiss you with slow passion, savoring the intimate closeness with you. Besides your lips, Tom's other favorite spot to kiss you is your forehead. It's just so sweet, gentle, and innocent to him that he sometimes finds it even more intimate than a kiss on the lips. He usually kisses your forehead when you do something that he just really appreciates whether you meant it or not. Maybe you fixed the broken string in his bass for him and he'll just give you the most loving gaze and that gentle smile as he grabs your face and gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead as a thanks. He just finds forehead kisses soothing, what can I say?

🔵 Cuddles=physical touch, so Tom enjoys if not loves them a lot! Tom has a preference for being the big spoon over the little spoon. As the big spoon, it literally feels as if Tom is trying to fuse with you by how hard, he's pressing you against him. You both would be lying at your sides as Tom has his arms wrapped tightly around your lower back and his head buried in your hair as he lets the scent of your shampoo ease him. Though Tom has a stronger preference for being the big spoon, he won't complain if you're the one who wants to hold him, especially if he's feeling vulnerable that day. You'd be lying at your sides again, but he'd have his back turned to you as you hug him from behind and run your hands up and down his arms/hands to soothe him, as he feels too embarrassed to face you when he's in his low state. Again, I'm sorry but just like Matt, Tom is always cold and you'd need a blanket with you whenever you two cuddle, except for summer though, cuddling with Tom during summer feels like heaven!

🔵 As said before, Tom loves physical affection and he views you as his safe heaven basically, so he isn't much of a fan when other people touch you, but if it's a friend or you allow the action yourself, there isn't much he can do but to tolerate it. But if it's someone that's trying to get with you, that's a different story! Tom makes it plainly obvious that he hates the person just by looking at them with that huge grimace and annoyed expression on his face as soon he can tell that they are flirting with you. Unlike Edd, Tom won't wait for a sign from you or anything like that, as soon as his feelings of feeling threatened are made correct by the actions of the person flirting with you he is right by your side, hugging you from behind possessively as he puts his head on your shoulder and says: "Hey babe, is this guy bothering you?" And just from his words and actions alone, the rando gets the hint you're already taken and leaves immediately with an apology. Apology or not, that does not stop Tom from glaring daggers at the person as you drag him away back home, having to soothe him with words of affection as he grumbles under his breath about wanting to choke the person.

🔵 Tom is very awkward with dates and finds them super complicated to arrange, man doesn't have much experience with dating and wants the best for you, so he tries his best to make the dates the best they can be! Tom would never admit it, but he'd be looking up advice online on where to take his partner on a date and go based on that, which means Tom doesn't really have a specific type of date he goes on with you, it's mainly whatever the best thing he can find online, he goes with. You ain't complaining though, cause those dates range from romantic dinners to the aquarium to a musical, to a picnic! No matter what it is or where you go, your boyfriend always makes sure you're having fun.

🔵 Tom is the most awkward boyfriend that doesn't know what he's doing but tries his best anyway just to make the relationship work. He may not always understand what he's supposed to do as a boyfriend or how to do it because he is always internally freaking out if what's he doing actually works, but he'd never once make you feel like he doesn't love you. He'd remind you of that fact every day in any way he can, whether large or small. Your existence keeps him sane and happy, so he'll do anything he can just to keep you at his side, even if he doesn't always know what he's doing.

Tord

🔴 Tord would be the type of boyfriend that thinks he knows what he's doing while being a huge show off while doing so, but in reality, he has no idea how being in love and dating works. Still, he sure acts like he does cause he feels insanely confident in a relationship because he thinks it's easy and he knows what he's doing (it isn't and he doesn't) But he rarely makes you suspect that over how nice a relationship with him is!

🔴 Tord is very open with his love for guns, especially when he pulls one out of nowhere before shooting something. Even though Tord doesn't mind showing you off his shooting skills, in fact, he loves it, but he will not allow you to touch his weapon at all! No amount of reassurance will make him trust you or himself enough to give you such a weapon. He just fears something might go wrong, if there's anyone else's safety he's more worried about it than his, it's yours and he will never put your life in danger willingly no matter what.

🔴 He'd show you his little inventions like the couch one or something like that and gets giddy when you show interest in them and praise him for them. He'd never show you his dangerous inventions though, like his giant robot out of fear of losing you, but if you have an invention request for him, Tord is more than happy to make it come true! Any nondangerous gadget is at your disposal any time you want and is free to use without asking, which means something because very few people have this sort of privilege from him.

🔴 So we all know Tord likes to smoke his cigars, well, similar to Tom with his alcohol problem, he will try to smoke less if not stop entirely at one point just for your sake. Whether you made a comment about his smoking habit or not, he's sure his smoke breath just after he finished his cigar doesn't feel really good when you two kiss. So he'd try his best to lessen doing it, or at least not smoke before he gets to spend time with you just so that he doesn't smell too bad.

🔴 Tord would be the type of boyfriend to lend you his clothes but on purpose! You won't need to ask for his hoodie or anything before he one day walks up to you with his hoodie and gives it to you without a word before walking away. If you comply and wear his clothes, expect to have his eyes always on you with a flirty smirk to match. He just can't help himself but feel oddly satisfied and honored for you to wear his clothes that are always too big for you, he finds it adorable and a way of marking you by having something of him with you, but he'd never tell you that of course.

🔴 Tord's love language is unsurprisingly physical touch and words of affirmation! Out of the main four, it was given that Tord would love physical touch a ton! Tord normally isn't a touchy person at all, he avoids having physical contact with most people like the plague, but with you? It's the opposite! The second you get together he's all over you in any way and every day he can! He saves the special affection for people that mean the most to him, and you just happened to be his entire world so he makes sure you receive the attention you deserve! Sitting on the couch with his arms wrapped around you? Check. Eating together with your knees touching? Check. Driving and sitting next to each other with his hand on your thigh? Check. Just any scenario with him having his hands on you in some way is always possible with Tord. He just feels safe and comfortable being this close to you, he doesn't show it, but Tord deals with a lot of anxiety and paranoia over the things he hides from you and his friends. It can get a lot sometimes, and the only way for him to let it all out is through physical contact with you.

🔴 Tord lives for giving you physical affection, but words of affirmation are exactly on the same level for him! Tord is a natural flirt that can come up with a pick-up line on the fly without trying, that's how good he is! But flirting isn't the only way he'll verbalize his love for you, a simple thought-out compliment or praise is what you'll hear from him a lot as well. Maybe you're working on something and are getting tired of it but you have to push through when you suddenly get interrupted by Tord appearing out of nowhere as he rubs your back reassuringly and tells you how great you're doing and to remember to take breaks etc. Just like with Matt, whatever you do, and no matter what the outcome of it was, or no matter how insecure you are, you will always be met with praise from him as he kisses you all over your face. Overall, just imagine yourself in any scenario just like the one before and Tord will find an excuse to flirt/compliment/praise you.

🔴 PDA and Tord are like best friends, why would he stop showering you with love in public when you clearly deserve all of the attention you can get? He's the same as Matt honestly, there is just no stopping him from kissing, hugging, hand-holding, etc, no matter where you two are. His love for you both in public and in private is the exact same, he just wants the whole world to know who you belong to and just wants to show your relationship off! Plus Tord doesn't feel any need to tone down the affection out in public, why should he? He barely pays attention to the random people on the street anyway because all of his attention is on you, everything else just doesn't matter when he's with you so he acts like it with his affections.

🔴 Kisses with Tord happen literally almost every minute and yet he always manages to find a way to make the next one more amazing than the last. He wants you to love and remember every moment of it as he slowly but sensually moves his lips against yours with that stupid smirk on his face and half-lid eyes that scan you with satisfaction. Tord is always confident when kissing you, so there's no hesitation coming from him before his lips are on yours while holding you so close you can barely move. And all of that is what I just described how kissing with Tord looks and feels like all the time. Outside of the lips though, Tord's other favorite spot to kiss you is to no one's surprise, your neck! It doesn't even need to be sexual, he just loves to kiss you there! The reactions you give him as you stiff at his sudden touch to the neck before you slowly relax and maybe let your voice out once in a while if Tord feels like teasing you a bit with his cheeky kisses. He is a pervert after all, so you can imagine he enjoys the show you give him sometimes immensely.

🔴 Same as with Tom and Matt, Tord lives for cuddles with you! Sorry, to say but Tord is always the big spoon, under no circumstance would he willingly put himself in a vulnerable position that we call the "little spoon". The only way for that to happen is you'd walk in on him in an uncharacteristically vulnerable moment, you both know he won't reveal what made him so upset so the only thing you can think of is to lay down and hug him from behind, pressing yourself against him tightly as you whisper reassuring words into his ear. Tord would never admit it, but he really appreciated the gesture, but you won't catch him asking to be a little spoon after that, it's just not his thing. What his thing is being the big spoon though! He is literally wrapped around you like a koala the whole cuddle session, you'd be pressed against his chest with his arms wrapped around your waist and his legs entangled with yours as he lays his head on top of yours. Unlike the two before him, Tord is always warm, so cuddling during the summer is always a pain, especially because Tord can't go a single day without multiple cuddles. But during winter you cannot be more glad than to have a literal fireplace as a boyfriend!

🔴 Tord feels like everyone is a threat to your relationship with a few exceptions constantly, even if the person in question is just a friend or someone that truly means no harm Tord will always feel like he's competing over you with them. As soon as he realizes the person's intentions with you he'd glare daggers at them with an almost silent animalistic growl coming from him as crossed arms almost rip the fabric of his hoodie from how tightly he's holding the fabric. As soon as the person's hands start to move towards you in an attempt to touch you, in a blink of an eye Tord is right behind you as he grabs your shoulders and possesivly presses your back against his chest. ''Get lost before I make you" If looks could kill the rando would have been already on the floor dead from the terrifying threat and expression Tord had on his face. Before you realize what's happening the person is already bolting in the opposite direction, you only snap out of it once you feel Tord's grip on you loosen as he looks at you with a satisfied smile before grabbing your hand and walking back home. It's almost as if the situation is already forgotten by him altogether, but it isn't, in fact, he'll have that memory of you getting hit on for a while before he gets over it. He just chooses not to show you how much the situation has impacted him for your sake, though he would really appreciate a kiss or two with some reassurance as you two head home, it'll make him feel better faster.

🔴 Tord legit has no idea what he's doing when it comes to dates. Just like Tom, he'd look up advice online on how to make "the perfect date" for you. The dates he'd typically settle on are the ones he knows you'd love to go to, he'd pay special attention in conversations where you mention a specific place you'd love to go to and immediately write it down as one of the places he should take you to. Literally, anything you want he will make it happen, restaurant, theme park, cinema, arcade, etc, just name it and you're going there! Tord already knows you're enjoying yourself because he purposefully took you somewhere you wanted to go, but he'd always try to make the date even more fun with various shenanigans he does to make you laugh, making dates more memorable than they would've originally been.

🔴 Tord is the embodiment of a boyfriend that wants nothing more but to make you the center of his world if not the universe. If someone like him could get with someone like you then it's only right he makes you feel like the most special person in the world! And just like Matt, he's perfect for those that need/want to be reminded of that fact every day, whether you want it or not Tord is basically worshiping you and he'll make sure you don't forget that fact either! Honestly, you're the only reason why he hasn't taken over the world yet, you'll never know that fact personally, but it's true!

[amethystarachnid]

Hey! If your taking requests, I love your work so much and I had an idea I would really love to see how you execute it.

So it would be with Tony Stark, and if its okay Male!Reader, but not romantic, the reader is a teen who is a product of some old fling Tony had and after being poorly taken care of by his mom (whatever that inclines you to write, abuse, bad boyfriend, alcoholism etc.) She dumps him off at stark tower with a note and what little belongings the reader has and his birth certificate to Tony for him to take care of. And the rest of what happens from there is up to you! Basically heavy on the found family troupe, and a little angst with some good fluff. The reader can be from 16-18 still in high school. He has Tony's sarcastic humor and smarts, but he nodes his intelligence because his mom never really helped him appreciate it, basically one of those kids that gets straight A's without seemingly trying and looking kind of stupid, the reader is quiet and a bit cold but that's because of how he was raised, and isn't one to share how he's feeling. If you can do this I'd be so thankful, if not its completely understandable, I hope I gave you enough creative liberty to make it fun, I know it'll be great if you do write it! Again I love your fics so much and I can't wait to read more of what you have!!💜☺

LEGACY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, a lot of angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: literally what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abusive household and rader feeling like people keep abandoning him

ᯓ★ Thank you so much for your request and for liking my work! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Your whole life, you’ve never known stability. The cramped apartments, the ever-shifting walls painted in hues of desperation, are as familiar to you as your own skin. You’re seventeen now, but you still feel like you’re stuck in this never-ending carousel of uncertainty and survival. Your mom—who’s always been more into herself than anyone else—has a way of shoving her problems under the rug, sweeping you along with the mess until you’re barely holding it together.

Her boyfriend—if you could even call him that—is the latest problem. Travis is the kind of guy who doesn’t need to say much to make his point clear. It’s in the way he takes up space, fills every room with his presence, making himself the center of your lives as if it’s his right. He started coming around when you were fourteen, and it’s only gotten worse. You know he hates you, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. To him, you’re a nuisance, some extra baggage he never asked for, and he’s got no problem reminding you of that. Your sarcasm and quick wit, the things that make you, you, are just more reasons for him to snap, roll his eyes, or call you ungrateful.

Your mom’s always been…complicated. You’ve known that since you were little, watching her go from one relationship to another, always searching for some kind of validation she never seems to find. She calls herself a free spirit, but it’s like she’s just drifting, lost in a fog of her own making. She can be fun, sure, when things are good. There were even moments when you thought she really loved you. But as time went on, you learned to read the signs: the distant glances, the subtle irritations, the way she avoids looking at you for too long, as if you’re some kind of mirror she doesn’t want to face.

It’s your intelligence that bugs her the most, you think. You see through her, every lie, every excuse, every careless decision. And she knows it. It’s like looking into a warped mirror—she can see pieces of herself in you, but you’re everything she’s never been: sharp, observant, with a mind that doesn’t let things slide. And it grates on her.

The fights get worse as you grow older, each one escalating faster than the last. Your sarcasm is your armor, your way of dealing with the endless cycle of disappointment. But every quip, every clever retort, only makes her angrier. You can tell she hates that she can’t control you, can’t manipulate you the way she does with everyone else in her life. She calls you difficult, a burden, a mistake she should’ve never had. You don’t let it show, but each word leaves a scar, another reminder that you’re on your own.

Then one day, it’s too much. Travis and your mom are fighting—again. It’s loud, voices echoing in the small apartment, and you’re in your room, trying to block it out like usual. But this time, you hear your name. You’ve been in this situation enough to know that’s never a good sign. So, you stay quiet, waiting, listening.

“You know he’s not even mine, right?” Travis snaps, his voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to put up with this kid? He’s not my responsibility!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Your mom’s voice is strained, like she’s barely holding on herself. “I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried—but he’s just…he’s too much. I can’t handle it anymore.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, you think maybe she’ll say something else, something that makes it sound like she cares. But the words never come.

“Then get rid of him,” Travis says, so bluntly that it leaves a chill in the air. “You’ve got the kid’s birth certificate. Drop him off at his real dad’s. He’s rich, isn’t he? Let him deal with the brat.”

You don’t move. You barely breathe. But deep down, you already know this is it. There’s no fighting it this time, no clever comment to deflect what’s happening. She’s made her choice, and it’s not you.

The next morning, she’s silent as she hands you an envelope. There’s no apology, no excuse, just a look that tells you she’s already gone, checked out of whatever shred of motherhood she once claimed to have. You don’t even ask where you’re going; you know the answer as soon as you see the address on the piece of paper.

Stark Tower.

It feels like a final act of cruelty, really. The man she’s always refused to talk about, the one figure in your life who’s only ever been a name, and now he’s your last option. Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, Avenger. And, apparently, your father.

You stand outside Stark Tower with a single bag of your things and that stupid piece of paper—the birth certificate that’s somehow supposed to mean you’re his problem now. You feel like you’re stuck in some cosmic joke, a punchline to a story you didn’t even know you were a part of. There’s no going back, though. That’s clear enough.

So, you take a deep breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk through the doors.

Tony doesn’t even get a chance to process it at first. One moment he’s sipping coffee in his lab, deep in the flow of something unnecessarily complex that’s keeping his mind busy, and the next, Pepper is calling him down to the lobby. She sounds irritated, stressed—like maybe it’s his fault, which Tony wouldn’t be surprised by, honestly. He heads down, muttering about "another hero here to tell me how to do my job."

Then he sees you.

You’re leaning against the glass wall, wearing an expression that’s somehow familiar yet entirely alien to him. It’s not hard to recognize the mix of defiance and exhaustion in your eyes; he’s spent years perfecting that look himself. But the shock doesn’t really hit until you hand him the birth certificate. Your name and his, right there in black and white, unavoidably real.

For once in his life, Tony Stark is speechless.

“Seventeen years,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “And now you’re here because…?”

You shrug, clearly unimpressed. “Mom didn’t want me anymore, and apparently, you’re my dad. So… here I am. Congratulations.”

You’re blunt, almost cruel in the way you say it, like you don’t expect anything from him and don’t care if you get it. But he can’t look away from you. For the first time in a long time, he’s out of his depth. He’s had seventeen years to know this was possible, maybe even inevitable, but standing in front of you, he realizes he’s never prepared himself for this. He’s never thought about what it would mean to actually be a father.

Yet here you are, standing in front of him with your mother’s words still hanging over you, and he can see the weight you carry in the way your shoulders are always tense, the way your eyes don’t quite meet his.

“Well, kid,” he says after a beat, plastering on his most confident smile, “looks like you’ve officially joined the Stark family. There’s no going back now.”

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into fatherhood with all the enthusiasm of someone tackling a new, challenging invention. He’s reading parenting books, taking advice from anyone who’ll give it, and trying desperately to crack the code of how to be a “cool dad.” He lets you explore Stark Tower freely, offers you access to his entire workshop, and even builds you a custom tablet, “Stark-style,” he brags, with enough advanced tech to impress even the most skeptical teenager.

He talks to you about science, testing your knowledge and realizing with a mix of pride and horror that you’re nearly as sharp as he was at seventeen. He tries to make jokes, throwing out sarcastic one-liners he assumes will win you over. Sometimes, he even manages to get a smirk out of you. But that’s as far as it ever goes.

Every attempt he makes is met with your icy wall, a defense mechanism built after years of disappointment and neglect. You listen, nod occasionally, but never laugh or even show interest. The most he ever gets out of you is a dry, deadpan “cool,” which is enough to keep him going but never enough to satisfy him.

Tony tries not to take it personally, but it’s hard. You’re right there, his kid, yet you’re worlds away, keeping him at arm’s length as if he’s just another adult you can’t trust. He catches glimpses of the sarcasm, the intelligence, but it’s wrapped up in layers of resentment and guarded detachment. You’re always cool, always distant, and he knows why, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

One evening, he sits you down with a grin, tossing a shiny, compact device into your hands. It’s sleek, metallic—one of his newer designs.

“Mini reactor prototype. You’d be the first to use it.” He says it with pride, like he’s giving you something no one else in the world could get.

You look at it for a moment, then at him. “Cool,” you say again, but your voice is flat, unimpressed. You set it on the table between you without another glance.

Tony’s grin falters, and he lets out a frustrated laugh. “You’re a tough crowd, you know that?”

You just shrug, giving him that practiced blank stare he’s come to know well. He’s finally reaching his breaking point. “Y’know, I’m trying here,” he says, exasperated. “I’m trying to… I don’t know, connect. Be… whatever it is you need me to be. But you’re acting like I’m just another stranger.”

You pause, considering him for a moment, and something shifts in your expression—like maybe, for just a second, you see his effort. But then your face goes neutral again, back to that familiar shield.

“Maybe that’s because you are,” you reply, voice quiet, almost too soft for him to hear.

Tony feels the blow, but he hides it with a forced chuckle. “Fair enough,” he says, though there’s a sting in his voice. “I can’t change the past, but… I’m here now. I’m not gonna just… walk away.”

The words linger between you, both of you knowing the weight they carry. You’ve heard promises like this before. You’ve heard them from your mother, from people who were supposed to care, and each one of those promises had turned hollow, leaving you more alone than before. So, when Tony looks at you with genuine sincerity, with a hope that you’ll give him a chance, all you can do is nod, burying any flicker of vulnerability.

As the weeks go on, Tony keeps trying. He brings you into the lab with him, walks you through his latest projects, even lets you experiment with some of the tech yourself. He drags you to burger joints at midnight, tries to coax out stories about school, hobbies, anything. Sometimes you let your guard slip, offering a sarcastic remark, a comment that makes him laugh—but the moment always passes too quickly, and you’re back behind that wall before he can push any further.

He’s persistent, though, and there’s a part of you that almost wants to give in, that wants to believe him. But your trust is a muscle you haven’t used in so long, it feels impossible to start now. So, you keep him at bay, deflecting his kindness, giving him just enough to satisfy his efforts without letting him in.

Tony doesn’t quit, though. He keeps showing up, every day, every night, and for the first time in your life, you don’t feel like someone’s just waiting for the moment they can leave.

Every morning, Tony insists on driving you to school, and it’s nothing short of a spectacle. He shows up outside Stark Tower in one of his many luxury cars, honking loudly, practically begging for attention. It’s become a routine, one you can’t escape no matter how many times you roll your eyes or tell him he doesn’t have to do it. He’s always got some snarky excuse, saying things like, “It’s my job as a dad,” or “I just want to see the kid off,” as if anyone believes he actually cares about high school protocol.

And everyone notices. Whispers trail behind you as you walk the halls, classmates you’ve known for years suddenly gawking at you like you’re a different person. They don’t know you as you anymore; they know you as Tony Stark’s kid. It’s suffocating. You’ve spent your entire life trying to stay unnoticed, to blend into the background. Now, no matter where you go, everyone’s waiting for you to crack a joke like him, to show off some kind of Stark-level genius.

Only one person seems to still see you, really see you—your best friend, Sam. You’ve known him since middle school, back when everything was simpler, when no one knew or cared who your dad was. He’s the only one who doesn’t treat you any differently now, the only person you actually trust enough to talk to about any of this.

One afternoon, you’re sitting outside on the bleachers with Sam, trying to ignore the fact that Tony’s car is already parked by the curb, waiting for you. The other students eye it like some exotic animal they don’t quite understand, but you keep your head down, just hoping the day will end without any more awkward questions or judgmental stares.

Sam nudges you. “So, uh… you still giving the old man the cold shoulder, huh?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not giving him the cold shoulder. I’m just… keeping my distance.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dude, I see you with him every morning. The man looks like he’s about to recite the Gettysburg Address just to get a smile out of you. And you’re over here acting like he doesn’t exist.”

You shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms. “He’s only doing it because he feels obligated, Sam. It’s Tony Stark. He doesn’t actually care about me.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You really believe that? You think he’s the kind of guy who’d waste his time on someone he doesn’t care about?”

You don’t answer, but you can feel Sam’s eyes on you, cutting through all your defenses. He’s always been able to read you better than anyone, and right now, that’s the last thing you want.

“He’s trying, Y/N,” Sam continues, his voice softer. “Like, really trying. And I get it. I get that you’ve been burned, but… maybe give him a chance? Just talk to him. It’s not like he’s gonna run off if you tell him what’s going on.”

You look away, jaw clenched as you try to shake off the knot of emotion tightening in your chest. You don’t want to admit that Sam might be right. Letting someone in, giving someone a chance—that’s always been a dangerous game, one you’re not sure you can afford to play again.

That night, you’re lying awake in your room, staring at the ceiling, Sam’s words playing on a loop in your mind. The silence around you feels heavy, pressing down on you, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you owe Tony more than you’ve been giving him. You’ve seen his effort, the way he tries to connect with you, even when you push him away. He’s there, every day, waiting for you, and no one has ever done that before.

Something shifts in you, a kind of tired resignation, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you get up and head downstairs to his workshop.

Tony’s hunched over a table, tinkering with some gadget, and he barely notices you at first. It’s only when you clear your throat that he looks up, surprise flickering across his face before he masks it with a smile.

“Hey, kid,” he says, setting down his tools. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. He gestures to a nearby chair. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

You sit, staring at your hands as you try to find the right words. For a long time, there’s only silence between you, the air thick with tension. Finally, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I know you’re trying. It’s just… it’s not easy for me.”

Tony watches you intently, not interrupting, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it. You look down, focusing on your hands, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“When I was a kid, my mom was all I had. I thought… I thought she cared about me, even if she didn’t always show it. But she changed, especially after she started seeing this guy. Travis. He wasn’t… he wasn’t a good person, Tony. He… he made sure I knew I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice breaks slightly, but you push through it, feeling the old wounds tear open. “He told me I was a burden, that I was just in the way. And my mom, she… she just let it happen. She barely even looked at me by the end.”

Tony’s face darkens, his jaw clenched as he listens, but he stays silent, letting you continue.

“I learned not to trust people,” you say, voice wavering. “Every time I thought someone would stick around, they didn’t. So I stopped… I stopped letting people in. I told myself it was easier that way.”

You look up at him, and for the first time, there’s no mask, no shield—just raw vulnerability, something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

“And then I showed up here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper now. “And you… you keep trying. You keep showing up, every day, like you actually care. And it’s… it’s confusing, okay? Because part of me wants to believe it, but the other part…” You trail off, wiping away a tear that slips down your cheek.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. He reaches over, placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you, letting you know he’s there. “Y/N,” he says softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t change what you went through. I can’t go back and fix it, as much as I wish I could. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before—a fierce, unwavering resolve that feels almost foreign. You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words sink in, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope spark to life.

“It’s not easy for me,” you murmur. “It’s… it’s hard for me to trust people. And I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. But… I want to try. I want to believe you. I just… I need you to be patient with me. I need you to not give up on me.”

Tony nods, his hand still resting on your shoulder, steady and reassuring. “Hey,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I’m not giving up on you, kid. Not now, not ever. You’re my son, and I’m here for the long haul. However long it takes, okay?”

The words settle around you, a warmth you haven’t felt in years. You don’t have to say anything; he seems to understand, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he lets go. And in that moment, something in you softens, just a little, like maybe you can let him in.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe him, to believe that maybe he really won’t walk away. And even though the walls around your heart don’t come down all at once, you feel them start to crack, piece by piece, letting a little light seep in.

After that night, things start to change. It’s slow, gradual, like thawing ice, but there’s a noticeable shift between you and Tony. You’re still guarded, still wary of letting him all the way in, but he doesn’t push. He just keeps showing up, every day, every night, just like he promised. And slowly, piece by piece, you let him in.

The first time you ask to work on something together, Tony practically beams. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter with your physics homework in front of you—normally a breeze, something you’d get done in a few minutes. But today, you’ve left a few problems untouched, hoping he’ll notice.

Sure enough, Tony glances over your shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Need a hand with that?” he asks, and there’s a careful lightness to his voice, like he’s trying to keep things casual, so he doesn’t scare you off.

You shrug, trying to act indifferent. “Sure, if you’ve got time,” you say, even though both of you know you could solve this on your own without breaking a sweat. But Tony doesn’t call you out on it. He just grabs a chair, pulls it over, and sits down next to you, leaning in to look at your work.

For the next hour, the two of you go over formulas and theories, his explanations coming with a few sarcastic quips and exaggerated hand gestures. Every so often, he goes off on a tangent, telling you stories about his own time in high school or sharing a strange fact he thinks will help you remember a concept. You listen, half-smiling at his antics, and eventually even throw in a few of your own sarcastic comments. You can tell he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it, but there’s a spark in his eyes that tells you he’s thrilled to be here, helping you, no matter how small the reason.

As the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in Tony’s workshop. It becomes your safe space, the place where you don’t feel like you have to hide or put up walls. Tony lets you explore, handing you tools and explaining how they work, guiding you through his more complicated inventions. It’s like learning a new language, one he’s eager to teach you, and he’s a surprisingly patient teacher.

One afternoon, he’s working on a new suit upgrade, and you’re watching, silently impressed by how smoothly he moves, how every action is precise and practiced. You’re deep in thought when he glances over at you, smirking.

“Thinking of joining the family business?” he jokes, tossing you a wrench. “If you’re interested, I could always use an extra pair of hands.”

You catch the wrench, feeling a rare, genuine smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe I will,” you say, feeling a rush of warmth that’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

He shows you how to tighten a piece of armor plating, explaining each step with a casual ease that you find yourself getting lost in. There’s something oddly comforting about the way he talks, like he’s sharing a secret only the two of you understand. And as you work, side by side, you realize that you actually look forward to these moments, the quiet companionship that comes from working together on something you both enjoy.

One evening, you catch yourself staring at your chemistry textbook, pages open to a particularly dull section on thermodynamics. Normally, you’d power through it on your own, but tonight, you feel the familiar tug of loneliness creeping in, and before you know it, you’re on your feet, heading down to Tony’s lab.

When you reach the doorway, he looks up, surprised, then quickly wipes the expression off his face and pretends to be engrossed in his latest project. “What’s up?” he asks, as casually as he can manage.

You hold up the textbook, pretending to be annoyed. “This stuff is terrible. Thought maybe you could explain it better than my teacher does.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I’m honored to know you think so highly of my teaching skills.” He gestures for you to sit down, and as you do, he starts flipping through the pages of your book. “Thermodynamics, huh? You sure you’re not just here for the riveting conversation?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But you both know the truth, and there’s an unspoken understanding between you as he dives into the material. He doesn’t just lecture; he makes it a story, breaking down each concept with analogies, acting out scenarios, and throwing in enough jokes to keep you both entertained. You throw in questions just to keep him talking, just so you don’t have to go back to your empty room just yet.

And somewhere along the way, you realize you’re not just learning about science. You’re learning about him—about his quirks, his sense of humor, the way he lights up when he’s talking about things he’s passionate about. He’s not just Tony Stark, billionaire genius, Iron Man. He’s… Tony, your dad, someone who, against all odds, actually seems to care about you.

Over time, you both fall into a rhythm. Tony starts waiting for you in the mornings, holding out a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, claiming he needs company on his drive to work. You never say it, but you look forward to those mornings, the way he fills the car with stories about his latest projects or about old college pranks he pulled that make you laugh in spite of yourself.

One day, you’re both hunched over a set of schematics in his lab, tossing ideas back and forth as you brainstorm a new design for a stabilizer that could potentially improve flight control in his suits. You’re getting so into it that you forget to be guarded, throwing out suggestions, bouncing thoughts off each other in rapid-fire succession.

At one point, Tony stops, leaning back in his chair to look at you with a smirk. “You know,” he says, a touch of pride in his voice, “you’re pretty damn good at this. Got that Stark brain for sure.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, and for the first time, you don’t brush it off. “Maybe,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “But I guess it helps when you have a good teacher.”

Tony chuckles, but there’s a glimmer of emotion in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. “Yeah, well… you’re not a bad student either.”

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you look at each other, an understanding passing between you that doesn’t need words. You know he’s trying, and somehow, that knowledge makes the walls around your heart crumble just a little bit more.

A few days later, you’re working on homework in the living room when Tony walks in, holding a set of blueprints he’s obviously excited about. But when he sees you bent over your books, he pauses, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, need some help?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look up, raising an eyebrow back at him. “With calculus? Pretty sure I’ve got this covered.”

He shrugs, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I was quite the calculus prodigy back in the day.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smirk, half-teasing. “Care to prove it?”

Tony grins, and before you know it, he’s pulled up a chair, leaning over your work with the same intensity he brings to his inventions. You pretend to need help with a few problems, and he’s more than happy to guide you through them, throwing in jokes and sarcastic comments the whole way. Every so often, he nudges your shoulder, grinning like he’s just scored a victory when he catches you smiling.

Eventually, he lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I think we’ve both learned a lot today,” he says, stretching dramatically.

“Yeah,” you reply, smirking. “Like the fact that you’re worse at calculus than I am.”

Tony gapes, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own son. This is a new low.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, and for the first time, it feels easy. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to keep fighting him off.

“Hey,” Tony says, his tone shifting to something softer. “Thanks for letting me in. I know it wasn’t easy.”

You meet his gaze, feeling that familiar vulnerability creeping in, but this time, you don’t shy away. “Thanks for not giving up,” you reply quietly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with.”

Tony chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Nah, you’re a piece of cake. Besides, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

You smile, a real one this time, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. For the first time, you allow yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.

It’s supposed to be a routine mission. Just another intel-gathering run, in and out, with minimal risk. Tony had waved it off as no big deal before he left, throwing you a smirk and saying, “Just another day in the office.” But that was hours ago. And now, as you sit in the dim glow of the living room, watching the news report blaring on the screen, dread twists deep in your gut.

You watch the shaky footage of Iron Man fighting, and this time, it’s different. He’s outnumbered, missiles tearing through the air, beams of energy slicing through the smoke and chaos. The news anchor’s voice breaks as they report the intensity of the fight, how Iron Man was last seen plunging out of the sky after a heavy hit. For a terrifying moment, you catch a glimpse of him falling, his suit battered, smoking, before the feed cuts out entirely.

Your heart stops, and a painful tightness fills your chest. The hours that follow are a blur of pacing, every second dragging longer than the last. You’re used to him going out on missions, used to the danger that comes with being Tony Stark’s son. But this… this is different. This isn’t the usual playful bravado, the usual cocky promises that he’ll be home for dinner. This is life or death, and for the first time, you’re faced with the horrifying thought that he might not make it back.

After what feels like an eternity, the front door finally opens. You spin around, heart pounding, and there he is, looking worse for wear but alive. He’s moving a bit stiffly, his armor scratched and dented, his face smudged with dirt and a few new cuts. But he’s here.

Before he can say a word, you rush toward him, the flood of relief hitting you so hard that you barely register the fact that you’re moving, throwing yourself into his arms. Your grip is tight, like if you let go, he’ll disappear. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until you feel his arms close around you, holding you just as tightly.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, his voice soft, touched with surprise but warm. “I’m okay, kid. I’m here.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears, and he’s looking at you with an expression so full of gentle understanding that it makes you feel like a kid again, vulnerable and desperate. Without thinking, the word slips out, raw and unguarded.

“Dad…” you whisper, voice breaking slightly, “don’t ever… don’t ever do that again. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”

Tony’s face softens, his own eyes welling up. He’s silent for a moment, as if he’s savoring the word, the weight of it finally hitting home. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. But I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod, the tears slipping down your cheeks now, and Tony pulls you in again, holding you tightly, his hand running gently over your back. It’s the first time you’ve let yourself fully embrace him, the first time you’ve allowed yourself to lean into his strength, to accept the warmth he’s been trying so hard to offer. And as you stand there, held in his arms, a sense of peace settles over you, soft and comforting, melting the last of your walls away.

After a long moment, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, a tear slipping down his own cheek as he smiles, eyes bright. “You called me ‘Dad,’” he says softly, his voice full of wonder, as if he’s just received the greatest gift in the world.

You give a small, watery smile, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it,” you mumble, but there’s no heat behind the words, only affection, only gratitude.

He chuckles, pulling you back into a hug, and you feel his hand rest on the back of your head, his grip firm and reassuring. “I’m already used to it,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not letting you go, kid. Not ever.”

In that moment, you realize that this is what home feels like—right here, safe in his arms, with nothing left to fear.

I'll never get tired of familyman!Tony I swear.

[heartkaji]

[ ★ ⸻ @meidiary ]

selfship event

★ OVERVIEW !

MEI BABY HI HRU ?? you and endo are definitely sunshine x sunshine protector. girly gf and obsessed bf. you know that trend on tiktok that’s like “walk him like a dog”? yeah. that’s you and endo 100%

Q3 — WHO FELL FIRST & WHO FELL HARDER ?

ENDO FELL FIRST. you caught his eye the moment you came in : dressed in pink with satin ribbons in your hair. your personality was a bit of a shock for him though—he wasn’t expecting you to be this loud. he thought you’d be that pretty, quiet girl at the back of the classroom. while i don’t think he fell in love at first sight, i do think he was curious about you from the very beginning. i think you guys started out as unlikely friends : he made a couple of jokes & you surprised him with your sense of humor. you both started as friends and quickly became closer, sharing inside jokes & gossiping and the likes. it took him a bit before he realized he was in love but boy once he did he was plotting on you HEAVY.

if i’m being honest, i think both of you are equally in love. surprising because we all know endo’s the type to love wholly & devotedly, but i feel like you match his energy. both of you are idiots in love & TRUST me when i say chika is sick of yall 🤦‍♀️ any time you pull up to the function and chika spots you he’s walking the other way. he’d rather not deal with both of you at the same time.

Q6 — TOXIC THINGS THEY DO ?

sunshine protector endo yamato takes protection a little bit too seriously i fear 💔 he can’t help himself, you’re so pretty n cute n trusting & the streets of furin aren’t exactly the safest. he’s afraid your personality will get you into trouble. because of that he can be a little extra : you have to have your location on at all times & god forbid you take five minutes too long to reply to his texts. he’ll immediately panic that something’s wrong on your end, and depending on how long you take to reply he MIGHT go berserk.

i also think endo is very guilty of doing too much 🤦‍♀️ i think he’s pretty possessive but without being jealous : he’s the type to put his arm over your shoulder whenever a guy approaches you just for the thrill of it. he doesn’t think for a second that anyone could steal you away from him so he isn’t jealous, but that doesn’t stop him from being a complete asshole to anyone who comes close to you. you often reprimand him for it but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think it was hot

endo also talks about his exes a lot i fear. i mean, at least it’s not in a positive way ? but it’s annoying nevertheless. “you like camellias ? ew, my ex maggie used to like those.” “huh ? don’t say that mei, you sound like my ex bellinda.” it’s a new ugly name everyday and you’re sick of it. worst part about it is he doesn’t even mean to bring them up. it’s something he does unintentionally but because you’d rather be the ‘cool’ girlfriend who’s not easily offended, you suffer in silence rather than talking to him about it. you hide your discomfort pretty well so he’s not able to pick up on it, so atp it’s something he has to realize on his own.

Q10– AT WHAT MOMENT DID THEY FALL IN LOVE ?

the moment you asked him about his tattoos. you asked him so sweetly and innocently :( “endo, what’s the story behind this one ? oh, and this one ? and that one too !” he watched you with glazed eyes as your fingers brushed over each inked diagram. you had absolutely no idea what you were doing to him (or at least he thinks you didn’t). by the time you were done tracing the lines on his skin he was already a mess of labored breaths & blood drenched cheeks. his eyes met yours & you flashed him the sweetest grin 💔. fucking god, he wanted to kiss you right then & there. but back then you two were nothing more than friends so all he could do was clear his throat & explain each drawing with a shaky voice. yeah, he was down bad.

>> 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 <<

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

[dissapointu]

“Rom-Com Kisses”

The living room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of the TV, flickering as the credits of a rom-com roll across the screen. Vi sits next to you on the couch, her legs stretched out, her usual tough demeanor softened in the comfort of your shared space. The faint scent of popcorn lingers in the air, and the quiet hum of the TV is the only sound, except for the occasional light chuckle or sigh escaping you both as you watch the characters on screen navigate their messy, sometimes ridiculous love stories.

You’re not sure how it happened, but somehow, Vi ended up agreeing to watch this movie. You know she’s more of a fast-paced action type—fights, explosions, and the thrill of chaos. But tonight, you convinced her with a little bit of persistence and a lot of your best puppy-dog eyes.

And now, here you are—cuddled up on the couch, your legs tangled together beneath a soft blanket, watching the predictable plot unfold.

Vi nudges you with her elbow, her voice low and teasing. “I can’t believe you’re making me watch this cheesy stuff.” She gives you a playful side-eye, but there’s a warmth in her expression, something that’s rare to see, especially in moments like this.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but smile. “Come on, admit it. You’re enjoying it,” you tease, bumping her shoulder lightly. “It’s got romance, humor, and… well, a lot of drama. Just like real life.”

Vi snorts, her lips curling up at the corners. “You’re right about one thing—there’s way too much drama for my liking.”

You laugh, your fingers brushing against her hand. The closeness feels natural, the weight of her body beside you grounding you in a way you didn’t know you needed. You’ve always felt a strong pull toward her, even when she’s trying to push the idea of love and softness away. But tonight, she’s here, and her eyes flicker between you and the screen, occasionally meeting your gaze with a grin or a small laugh.

As the movie hits its peak, the couple on screen is about to share a kiss—an overly dramatic, slow-motion kiss that would make even the most hardened person roll their eyes. You can’t help but laugh softly, knowing full well what’s coming.

Vi glances over at you, catching the amusement in your eyes. “What? Something funny about the kiss?” she asks, her voice almost challenging.

You shake your head, still smiling. “No, I’m just… wondering when you’re gonna kiss me like that.”

Vi’s brows raise slightly, her lips curving into a sly grin. “Oh? Is that what you want?” she teases, leaning a little closer.

Before you can respond, Vi’s hand finds yours, her fingers curling around yours in a way that sends a spark of warmth through you. The playful edge in her eyes fades just slightly, and she watches you closely, as if waiting for you to say something, to make the first move.

But you don’t need to. You’re not sure what it is—maybe the chemistry between you two, or maybe the sweetness of the moment, with the world outside quiet and peaceful—but something shifts.

Vi leans in, her breath warm on your skin as she closes the distance, her lips brushing yours in a soft, teasing kiss. It’s not overly dramatic like the one on the screen, but the gentleness of it, the sweetness, makes your heart race in a way that feels a little unreal. She pulls away just slightly, her eyes locking onto yours, searching, as if looking for permission or reassurance.

You don’t need to say a word. The way you’re both positioned, the way the moment feels, says it all. You pull her in again, this time a little deeper, the kiss more certain, more tender. Vi’s hand rests on your waist as she leans into the kiss, her body language softening as she surrenders to the moment. Her lips are gentle, warm, and you find yourself losing track of time as the kiss deepens, the world outside of the living room slipping away.

When you finally pull back, both of you a little breathless, Vi rests her forehead against yours, her eyes closed as she grins.

“Guess I can do cheesy romance,” she mutters with a quiet laugh. “Just for you.”

You smile, your heart still fluttering in your chest. “You’re perfect,” you whisper, your hand running gently through her hair.

Vi gives you a sideways glance, her lips curling into a smug grin. “I know,” she says, before leaning in to kiss you once more, this time a little slower, savoring the moment.

As you kiss her, the rom-com on the screen becomes a blur. The movie doesn’t matter anymore. The kiss—her warmth, her hands, the way she holds you close—becomes everything. In this simple moment, on this quiet night, you realize that maybe, just maybe, life can be a little bit like a rom-com. You just have to be willing to take a chance on it.

And right now, with Vi by your side, you know it’s worth it.

[stuck-writing-sickos]

Slick (yandere coworker)

TWO

[Masterlist]

[T/w: suggestive content, misogyny]

<<hey do you fw this guy? ik hes not performing nearly as well as Lukas and Yuki but tbh i like writing him. the bite-sized nature of this story is liberating, as is the inner-monologue style ive chosen. given how busy ive been this feels good to write hahaha. lmk how we feel about this one.

Also if you noticed how misogynistic my characters all are - lord knows i tried not to build them this way. Unfortunately ive interviewed (informally) a lot of straight cis men in my life and i'll tell you what - they are even WORSE than what ive put down here. My commitment to psychological realism may be my demise. Sorry if you came to me looking for escapism. But hey, at least these guys commit to the bit, huh? dont fw this kinda guy irl tho lol>>

For my own sanity, please don't give me the truth.

So you are the type to fuck me then leave me, I see.

You were gone by morning. When did you sneak out? I have no clues. It was my fault, I didn't hold you tight enough when I drifted to sleep. Can you blame me, though? You worked your magic on me like your life depended on it. You treated your tongue and fingers like they were that of the Devil, and the rest of your body as if you were on a mission to recall the soul I owed you. You even attentively wiped me down, smiling, your lips butterflying on my sweaty forehead. You acted like all the trickstery you had pulled were out of love.

No... it really was my fault. I should have been the one giving you the time of your life. Instead I let you play me like a fiddle... my god. How embarrassing. How very emasculating. I can't fault you for being gone so soon when I lied sprawling and broken after you were done with me. For godsake, I whimpered and whined under you.

I tried texting you, but you took half your Sunday to respond. What the hell were occupying your time? Did you have any idea how each hour agonizingly crawled past me? I guess not. I asked if you got home okay. You said "of course, thanks for checking in on me. You're so nice!"

Man, fuck you.

I bit the bullet and asked you out again. No respond for the rest of the day. Fine. No big deal. I was never one to be bothered by juvenile texting etiquettes. You were busy. I get it. You had plans. You're a busy person. All good.

Or you lost interest in me.

I feel used, but I wasn't sure for what. You weren't on it for a free dinner, that's for sure - you have never looked like you were strapped for cash. As for my body... I don't believe what I gave was nearly adequate. You didn't even give me a chance to prove myself - hell, you pushed me down on my own bed and wringed all you could out of me. Why on Earth did you humor me, if you got nothing worthwhile out of me?

Maybe you found that out afterward. You saw me at work, then at dinner, then in bed, and you decided that I wasn't worth your time.

I'l give you one - I now know that you are very funny.

Elsewise, I got nothing.

Given your secretive nature I suppose you wouldn't kiss and tell. There's nothing in it for you, except for an even more tarnished reputation. We all hate you anyway.

Well, they all hate you.

The others didn't hold back when they talked about you - they made fun of your clothes for being "too nice" (whatever the hell that means). They also laughed between themselves about your overly formal and distant attitude - did you know they think you're a robot? You are especially NOT popular with the girls, by the way. They think you're, and I quote, a stuck-up bitch.

The fellows mostly don't mind you. With the way you conducted yourself around me, I'm sure you know how easy us men are by now - if you're kind to the eyes, we wouldn't have any qualms with you. But, we also have this pathetic thing we do where we agree with the ladies around us. They're easy on the eyes as well, and we want to scutter around them long enough to maybe get something out of them. Long shot, I know. Extremely desperate. Well, I know that, too. Forgive us when we nod along or laugh between one another when the gals make degrading assumptions about the men you might have slept with to get all the nice things you have, like your shoes or clothes or earring or that enviable sense of financial security.

Again, I'm sorry.

I used to not think about their gossips, but the way you dominated my body and self worth stirred something ugly at the depth of my guts. Did you do this before? How many man have you spent the way you did me? How many were driven a wreck?

Actually, never answer that.

[whereserpentswalk]

It’s fascinating that you think trans people’s names come to them like wands in Harry Potter, you can’t just culturally appropriate bc you’re trans

Ok, this is about comments I made like a year ago on a comedy bit. While I stand by my feelings that the bit was bad and transphobic, my reasons why are a lot diffrent.

When I first wrote the comments my arguments were very thermian. I treated the story the comic was telling as if it was real and objective. Which feels right for most people, because stand up comedy is often presented like conversation, where we do treat stories like that as real things. But that's not how comedy works, comedians don't tell stories the way we do in conversation, they're creatives, the stories they tell are basically fictional, the art form might look like real conversations but it's not.

Comedians want to make you laugh, and sometimes want to send a message or make you think about things in a new way, but they have no reason to want to portray events accurately. They might be basing some things off of real experiences, but that's true for everyone, Tolkien might have chosen to explore his experience in world war one in lord of things, that doesn't mean we have to argue about orcs as if they're real entities when we're talking about if those books were racist.

So let's actually look at the skit, and analyze its outlook on trans people keeping in mind its a story that a cis man is telling, and not actual events: So the summery of the skit is that a white trans man comes out to his to his family, and he picked a name you'd expect a black person to have. He has older black relatives (who are implied to fully accept him, which would make him possibly the only trans person on earth with a fully accepting family) who refuse to use this name, and instead call him "the boy". The sketch ends with the comedian saying he should pick a name like Kevin, because even if he's trans he's not interesting (keep your thoughts on that last one).

Now, ignoring how this would play out in real life, what does this as a peice of fiction say about trans people:

First off: it's creating a plausible but unlikely situation where the woke thing to do is to not respect a trans person's identity. A lot of political humor exists to call ideas into question with hypotheticals, and the idea being questioned here is the idea that trans people's identities deserve respect.

Second off: it's creating a situation where a trans person is entitled and arogent for wanting his identity respected. In the fiction this trans person is that. But it's promoting the idea that they are in real life. Transphobes will show you a lot of spooky examples of trans identities that are unreasonable to respect, but that's not useally ever what it's like in real life. (An otherkin robotgirl isn't going to demand you communicate with her through beeps and boops, she probably just wants you not to laugh at her.)

Third off: it's pitting minorities agaisnt eachother. Conservatives love this, but it's super common when people try to convince progressives to a specific group from their advocacy. It shows us a world where trans rights and poc rights are at odds with eachother, in the real world they aren't, in the real world they're part of one larger struggle and diminishing one is diminishing the other. A lot of people do this with different identities, lgb types do it with gayness, terfs do it with womanhood, class reductionists do it with class, trscum do it between trans people. But it doesn't help one oppressed group when you shit on a diffrent oppressed group in their name. It's white conservatives who love it the most when trans people and poc at pit agaisnt eachother, and it's trans poc who suffer the most.

Fourth off: it's feeds into a very old myth amoung queerphobic progressives, which is the idea that queer people are privileged people looking to pose as the marginalized to get special rights. This is a myth we really have to get over, because its been internalized by a lot of people, and we get these hunts for fake minorities. This is why the "you're not interesting" line sticks out to me. Most trans people don't give themselves appropriative names, but trans people as a group constantly get accused of trying to steal other people's struggles. This is a myth that preys on the fact that white skined white colar queer people are more visible, and its one that is based on treating that disparity in visibility as a fact. We have to cut this out, nobody fakes minority status to get privileges because minorities aren't privileged. It's not true for queer people, even the queer people other queer people hate like bi people and ace people. It's not true about mentally ill and ND people, or converts to non Christian religions, or East Asian people, or anyone who gets accused of this. Stop it dearly.

Fifth off: this entire sketch is based in the idea that families can accept their trans kids, but only conditionally, only if they prove themselves to be doing it for the right reasons, and they please their family's whims. This is a transphobic idea, it's a transphobic idea most neolibs hold. Comedy bits are a lot like story books (no shade at either) where a problem is presented at the beginning, and a solution at the end, that the audience is expected to take for their own problems. And the solution here is a form of transphobia, the idea that trans people aren't owned acceptance, they need to earn it. I've seen a lot of trans people tormented by their families over that idea. And when a person of color goes and stage and wraps that idea in racial justice, it's young trans poc who get hurt by it the most.

Sixth off: not a huge point, but I feel like a cis black man, of all cis people, should be the most likely to understand that calling a trans man a boy is dehumanizing and insulting. I guess this goes to show he's not interested in thinking about how trans people's struggles are like his, he stands alongside a lot of marginalized trans people there.

Finally I kind of don't know how to end this. This is long. Really long. I don't know whose going to read this, because its a lot. Hopefully you got a bit of media literacy from reading all of this. Early on in my tumblr career, when I had just moved from Brooklyn to Manhattan, I had read an essay by @wifelinkmtg about a concept called the ditch. The idea was we often argue about media wrong, talking about things in hyper literal cannon obsessed terms, and that was the ditch, the ditch we dig for ourselves when we ignore things like themes and audience experiences. Hopefully this series of words dug less of a ditch than my words did a year ago. Sorry I don't have the actual sketch on hand. Mabye I'm wrong, but if someone wants to prove me wrong I'd rather they do it outside of a ditch. Mabye the ask wasn't even about that post. Mabye I'm tired. Maybe you should be tired too.

Sorry for the long post. Media literacy matters. Black trans lives matter. Goodbye, enjoy your night well.

[slavghoul]

Interview from Rock Hard [FR] Magazine 5/2023

In which Tobias talks about Spillways, Phantomime, how he chooses what songs to cover, the state of the world, why he loves churches, and some touring technicalities.

--

Rock Hard: Let's go back to the version of "Spillways" that you recorded with Joe Elliott, the singer of Def Leppard. How did this collaboration come about?

Unfortunately, this story is less sexy than it would have been if I could have done exactly what I wanted. Before Impera was released, I regularly mentioned Def Leppard in interviews because some of the experimentation on that album was inspired by that band, their writing style. […] As I often mentioned Def Leppard, people around me eventually told me that Joe Elliott and Phil Collen regularly spoke highly of Ghost in interviews. Since I obviously thought it was cool, someone suggested a collaboration. A good collaboration shouldn't be forced, it should happen naturally. The best ones are often the ones that weren't supposed to happen. Two drunk musicians somewhere accidentally writing a good song... Crosby, Stills & Nash style. People who, by chance, find themselves together in a different context from the one they are used to and do something together, by accident. Something magical! That's how I would ideally have wanted it to happen. So I said I was ready to call Joe Elliott and see if we had a rapport. We started talking on the phone and texting a lot, me living in Sweden and him in Dublin. As we were both on the move almost all the time, and he was on tour, we couldn't meet. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he tells me that he has recorded some vocals for 'Spillways'! Quite frankly, I was surprised because I wasn't expecting it. I was anticipating a possible collaboration, but in a different way. To be honest, I thought we would create something new later on. But when I heard the result, I thought two things. Firstly, I found it very flattering. Secondly, I thought Joe brought something new and cool to "Spillways".

But you would have preferred to have the opportunity to write a new song with him.

Yes, that's the way I saw it, but I'm happy with the way it turned out. And then I said to Joe, "You know how we post those funny little episodes on our social media?" He replied "Yes, I think I saw that!" and kindly agreed to participate in one of them. Nowadays, many artists are over-solicited to record video clips for anything and everything in order to keep their channels updated: "Come and see us in concert in such and such a city!", etc. etc. The aim is obviously to keep the media space occupied.

By creating "content"!

Exactly! And that's exactly what I don't want to do. That's why, instead of all this crap, we started some time ago to create these little humorous episodes. One day, for example, I came up with the idea of an episode set in 1969 featuring a sort of "pre-Ghost" group. To do this, I obviously had to write a new song, which I did with this psychedelic track, 'Kiss The Go-Goat', which I thought was funny. When we recorded it, 'Mary On A Cross', another song of the same type, came along. So we ended up with two sides of a single that became 'Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic.’ Instead of just announcing the release on our networks, we chose to shoot a new video in which we featured Papa Nihil and explained the origins of this so-called 'pre-Ghost' band. I thought it was a much more clever and fun way of presenting the single. We do the same when it comes to announcing an album release or a future tour. Joe Elliott has a great sense of humour and is capable of self-mockery, so he kindly agreed to play this little game.

Ghost have made a habit of releasing an EP between their albums, mostly, if not entirely, made up of covers: If You Have Ghost (2013), Popestar (2016) and now Phantomime. How is it not just about “creating content”?

For me, it's a kind of exercise. I like analogies. Let's imagine that the place we are in is a theatre, and that this theatre, in order to be viable, has to host performances all year round. At least fifty weeks a year. Daytime rehearsals, evening performances... You are the director of the place and you know that the play that is currently being performed there will end at the end of the month. So you look for something else to program in order to make the most of the place and keep your staff busy. Maybe an old classic like Doctor Glass (Hjalmar Söderberg, 1905), an adaptation of John Steinbeck, or a rereading of Shakespeare's Hamlet that you could revisit by inviting this actor or that director, renting out your theatre for three extra months for the occasion. Working on this old material, even if it means not releasing it if it doesn't work. We do that to keep the team active, enthusiastic, focused. That's my way of working. I worked simultaneously on the Impera album and the demos of the covers that are on Phantomime. One day I could record 'Spillways' and two hours before leaving the studio to go home, I could look at any of the covers and decide which ones to keep. So, as soon as Impera was finished, I was able to concentrate on those covers that the album's producer wasn't interested in putting on the record. Which was fine with me. I spent some time sorting out the covers I had recorded as demos. There were ten in total, but I only kept five. Because with those five tracks I thought I could come up with a really strong rock EP. In my albums, there are highs, lows, really metal tracks, ballads, instrumentals, etc. So I thought it was a good idea to make a really strong rock EP. I felt it would be cool if this new EP was viscerally rock’n’roll. The opening track, "See No Evil" by Television, sounds like the Rolling Stones on methamphetamine! (laughs)

You like the songs you cover, that's a prerequisite. But their lyrics also play a very important role in your choice.

Yes, that's what makes me choose a song or not.

Is that the number one criterion?

Erm... (he thinks for a long time) If I hesitate between two songs, yes, absolutely! Let's go back to Leonard Cohen, for example. For the bonus tracks of Prequelle, I chose "Avalanche" because it seemed to me to have a biblical and existential significance. This was not the case with 'Take This Waltz', another Cohen song that I liked as much, if not more. The latter, with its Viennese waltz feel, would have metaphorically taken us to Austria, which would not have been very coherent, unfortunately.

Should these covers speak about God, the Devil, ask questions about religion?

They must speak about evil, about good. Be existential, biblical, philosophical, but seen from a certain perspective. Or at least tick one of those boxes, like 'Hanging Around' (The Stranglers) which is about Christ. Some of the other covers I've recorded are more specific, such as 'Phantom Of The Opera' (Iron Maiden), which is about horror. I also make my choice according to the humour of the songs I want to cover. It should be close to my own sense of humour.

You mentioned the first Phantomime cover, "See No Evil". It takes on a different resonance today because, on January 28, 2023, we sadly learned of the death of Tom Verlaine, the leader of Television.

When I recorded this cover in 2021, just after completing Impera, it was already a tribute. But obviously, with Tom's death, this song takes on another resonance, that of a final posthumous salute. I've been listening to Television for twenty years, and I love them and have always considered them a great band. In indie clubs they always play the same song, 'Marquee Moon', but Television had many other good songs, especially on their first two albums: Marquee Moon (1977) and Adventure (1978). I like those two best. It's a band that had a huge influence on one of my previous bands, Subvision. So much so that at the time, I thought several times of covering Television songs that I loved: "See No Evil", but also "Elevation" and "Foxhole".

The first single from Phantomime is Genesis' 'Jesus He Knows Me', a scathing critique of televangelist stars like Jimmy Swaggart, Jim Bakker and Robert Tilton. Ugly people who have made their fortune by 'promising salvation’ to naive believers for big bucks. Can we expect to see you wearing a wig in its video, as singer/drummer Phil Collins did in the original video for this song in 1991? 

(Laughs) We've already shot the video for this cover version (editor’s note: the interview was conducted on 11 March 2023) and I'm not in it, but it's a direct nod to the original video. I've always liked this song - except for the reggae part, which I thought was horrible in the Genesis version and which I reworked - and it's funny to see how this 1991 text is still relevant today. Except, of course, for a few "old-time" words, like "phone book". The televangelists are still there on television promising things to people who take their word for it and shower them with money because they are assured of "salvation", they are promised heaven. I also rearranged Iron Maiden's 'Phantom of The Opera' after taking care to contact Steve Harris for his approval.

Indeed, in your retelling of this song, you are the Phantom and not its victim...

Yes, I wanted to be the Phantom. I submitted the idea to Steve, who gave me the green light. I only made some surgical changes. Similarly, I would have liked to have proposed the same thing to Phil Collins so that the text of "Jesus He Knows Me" would have been more in line with the times. Change, for example, "but she don't know about my girlfriend / or the man I met last night" to "or the dude I screwed last night". Alas, lack of time prevented me from doing so. And then, since this was a slippery slope, I thought: - What if Collins refuses? Or what if he gets pissed off? - We could have made these changes without asking anyone's permission - as long as the artists get their royalties, it's not a problem - but there was no way I was going to do it. Neither I nor my label wanted to alienate anyone, obviously.

In 1977, in "Hanging Around" by The Stranglers, which you also cover on Phantomime, the singer Hugh Cornwell sings about several things, but also about Christ "telling his mother not to worry because he's comfortable in the city where he's high above the ground". Is that why you chose it?

Actually, the key thing that made me choose this song from the band over any other is that I grew up listening to the album it's taken from, Rattus Norvegicus (1977), the Stranglers' first release. There are a lot of songs on that album that I would have loved to play because, as a musician, I really like to play those kinds of songs. ‘Hanging Around' was a good fit for us because of the lyrics, but also because it was more in keeping with our style. Ghost are obviously a metal and hard rock band, but also have a strong punk sensibility. Punk, but well played (smiles). For me, The Stranglers have always done "well played punk": this band knows how to play, how to arrange its music, unlike GBH and Discharge, to name but two. Mind you, I also like the latter, but not for the same reasons. A lot of punk bands from the late 70s/early 80s sounded "sloppy". It wasn't for lack of trying to play better. When The Clash and The Jam went into the studio, they tried to do their best and they sounded great! The same goes for The Adverts. Those guys were doing their best. Nowadays, some people think that being a punk is to play badly on purpose, to be messy. No, no, no ! But I digress...

What is the reason for the nod to Metallica's 'Fade To Black' in the solo on 'Hanging Around'?

Just for fun. When I'm working on a guitar solo, I throw things in here and there, like a messy painter. It's like stretching a canvas on a wall and making big brush strokes... But when I start to feel like I've got something cool, I dig in more surgically, a bit like a collage artist would. I interweave little elements, and when it comes time to insert a solo into a piece, I refine things by continuing to add new elements. Generally, a solo gives you a space of freedom in the middle of an otherwise totally structured song. That's when you can come up with different things in terms of melody. So that's the way I do it, even on the demos of the covers. I ask my sound engineer, Martin Eriksson Sandmark, to play me the draft of the solos I've been working on over and over again, and then I try out different things, whatever comes to mind. It's as if I'm drawing a mental map of what the solo will become. Sometimes, if I'm on a part sometimes, if I'm on a bluesy part, I'll let myself play a few notes of Gary Moore’s "Still Got The Blues", or, if I'm tapping, Van Halen's "Eruption". When I was working on the solo for 'Hanging Around', I felt like playing this part of Metallica's 'Fade To Black', just for fun. And it ended up on the demo. I'm a decent guitar player, but I'm not at the level I could have reached if I'd worked harder. I could just record these solos in the studio, where you can always slow things down when you play them and then speed them up and put them on the album, but Fredrik Akesson can play these parts without tricks and with much more finesse than I can. He recorded the solo for "Hanging Around" as I had presented it on the demo, with this nod to Metallica, and we thought it was so cool that we kept it.

Hugh Cornwell, the ex-singer of The Stranglers, said in an interview that, although he was not a believer, he loved visiting churches. Is this also true for you? Are you also attracted to churches?

Yes, passionately! I believe in them like I believe in Star Wars. I've always thought of churches as stage props. Walking into one of them is a bit like walking onto a film set of the original Indiana Jones And The Temple Of Doom. It's awe-inspiring, even though you know it's just cardboard. Churches have magical powers because they are centuries-old buildings and we know that a lot of things have happened within their walls. Not that I'm trying to throw up on these places of worship, but when I go into a church I don't hear God, but the whispers of time. I am not an atheist, although intellectually I can see that there are many reasons why I should be. I believe in a Force, in an Energy. I also believe that we don't know many things, but that there is a balance between these different energies. The white and the black.

Good and Evil...

Absolutely! Right now the world is in crisis, but we're going to get through it. It's a vicious circle. We do ourselves a disservice if we think that if the world were rid of people like Vladimir Putin, Alexander Lukashenko, Jair Bolsonaro and the ayatollahs of Iran and Iraq, we would be out of the woods. I think all this can happen - and I hope it will, in a way - but Good and Evil will always be there. That balance is necessary. But I am an optimist by nature. I believe that there is a future for Volodymyr Zelensky and the Eastern bloc. That there is perhaps a chance to put into practice what was tried there some thirty years ago. And I believe in a free Iran, in a possible return to what this country was in 1978. What a beautiful day that would be! But that doesn't mean there wouldn't be a new war somewhere else in the world. I'm an eternal optimist, but let's face it: history is always starting over. As I said, it's a question of balance, a permanent coming and going. Because I believe in this Force I was talking about earlier, I truly believe that the West can win, that the way we live and the way we have built our society is a step forward that shows progress and can make a large majority of people happy. Not all, but most. But even if we all lived in love and peace for five years, something else would come along to create chaos! An alien or something! (laughs) That's how it works. Our mistake is to believe in the status quo, in nirvana. It's not going to happen. It's always about balance. The Vatican and organised religion... All that crap is just to pick people's pockets, to control them, to take their energy and scare them into plundering them. The same goes for the GOP (editor’s note: the American "Grand Old Party", suspected of having Christian nationalist leanings), which only deceives people in order to take their money! That's all you need to know. It's simple, so simple to understand. All this does not mean that the energy that emanates from churches is not real. When you walk into one of them, you feel - or so I believe - the energy of all those who have gone before you, for decades, for centuries. Their fears, their hopes, etc. So much so, sometimes, that you can feel oppressed, even upset. So I can walk into a church and feel a sense of awe. I love visiting these places, especially from an aesthetic point of view.

On Phantomime, you also cover "We Don't Need Another Hero" by Tina Turner. Don't you think that, given the state of the world today, we do need "another hero"?

I think Zelensky has shown how much we like heroes, how important they are to us. I think back, for example, to how the world went wild when Andrés Iniesta scored the decisive goal in the 116th minute to help Spain win the 2010 World Cup against the Netherlands. I believe in human determination and how it can inspire the world to distinguish between what is important... and what is really important. What is important for our daily lives. Yes, it's cool to have a complete collection of Venom's work, but it doesn't matter if I’m missing the most important thing. In the last ten years especially, the western world has been focusing on tons of unimportant things trying to pit people against each other, cancel culture and all that stuff... It proves that we are spoiled children. Our mentality shows it when it comes to security. Seeing Zelensky defend himself as he does appeals to our most primal instincts: it's beautiful and very inspiring. Nothing else is more important than that. It is the only thing that matters... Otherwise we have to be prepared for a lot of people to live in misery.

Next August, you will tour in the USA with Amon Amarth. I noticed that they will not accompany you on the last date, in Los Angeles, on September 11, 2023. There is no opening act, you ask the audience not to use their phones, etc. That sounds like a live DVD!

Yes, we are indeed planning to film this show, but it won't be the end of the Impera era cycle, even if we will not have so many dates left after this concert. There will still be a few shows in South America and Australia.

Nothing in Japan? A country that one might think Ghost was made for.

At the moment, it's not very clear. We had a lot of discussions with the Japanese promoters, as there was talk of us appearing on the bill of a Japanese festival scheduled for this month. Unfortunately, the festival was postponed... and then rescheduled for March! I think they originally had a big headliner, but the headliner didn't show up. So they cancelled, and then considered a smaller edition with Pantera. With all the back and forth, we ended up dropping out because it was too risky for us to play one date there after six months of inactivity. Our team is currently taking a break, but we preferred to use this time to rehearse for our next shows. The first one will be in Rouen on May 21st. We learned a good lesson the last time we played Hellfest. It was so hot that day, the conditions were so extreme, that we almost had a storm. We really had to fight against the elements and it affected me (Editor's note: the last encore of the show was not played, as Tobias was suffering from vocal problems). It was a very tough show. What really pissed me off was not the fact that I lost my voice, but the fact that the festival-goers who were there were not treated to our entire production. It was indeed difficult to foresee these extreme conditions. This summer we have to play festivals again, so we have reworked our production, which will be better adapted to the complicated weather. On this tour we will play in Spain, Finland, Norway, Greece, all within a few days of each other. So we'll be touring with two identical stages, so we can do all these shows without too much downtime. It's not very ecological, I'm sorry to say, because sometimes we'll have to take a plane to get to these cities in time. Not great, but it's the only way...

Will you play any of the Phantomime covers live?

One thing is for sure: we will play 'Jesus He Knows Me' because it's the first single from the new EP. As for the rest, we'll see during the rehearsals how the set evolves - because it's going to evolve a bit from the 2022 set. We're thinking of playing some songs from Impera that we've left out so far.

[youngtomhardy]

My latest single TOM HARDY OUT NOW ★

Today I saw a new-fan review of the single. Overall reception has been so positive and I’m so glad everyone’s feeling down for a sexy night out with this one.

This little review really piqued my interest though. The poster started by saying the single cover & song title came across desperate, but they couldn’t resist listening (funnily enough negating their point). By the end of the song, they became a fan and praised me for being talented, executing the song well, and being an exciting gay male pop act. “It’s rare” they went onto say and they hope to see me get bigger.

This kind of led me to the point of this post and I sort of had an epiphany. I think a lot of people — especially queer men who only gravitate to female pop acts — seem to misunderstand my art and my perspective overall. I think that’s sometimes why it takes so long for new audiences to warm up to the idea of me.

I’m very aware of the type of music I make. I love it and that’s why I do it. It’s hedonistic & humorous, but I don’t think many know that I’m in on that aspect of my craft.

Now I’m not acting like TOM HARDY is this thought provoking poetry although some would argue it is… it’s self-confident to the point of overly cocky, it’s extreme in both lyrics & sonics, and in the end, it’s meant for a pregame, a night out, a bender, the gym, whatever your flavor is.

But in the context of my upcoming body of work “THE PENTHOUSE”, it is an extreme high right before a sudden fall from grace. It’s written from the perspective of a young guy who’s being told daily what a star he is. He’s on top of the world, he’s feeling sexy and confident, he’s always showing off, because for the first time it feels like people in the industry are recognizing his gift & ready to change his life forever. Wouldn’t YOU feel like a young Tom Hardy?

I’ve harped on my fallout with the label for long enough. I’ve moved on and the best part? I feel more confident than I ever have in myself and my art. So now I’ll just let the project tell the rest of my story. I had the choice of making a body of work that feels like a tragic loss or I could turn that pain into something that uplifts people. I think with this song and my past 3 releases, it’s clear what path I decided to take. Even though it sometimes feels very misunderstood, especially as of late, I’m excited by and proud of every artistic decision I’ve made. I’ll have the official unrated music video & an album release date for you as soon as I wrap up the title track. See you very soon ★

[vladdyissues]

OK, I need an opinion from someone who is a Pompous Pep fan for this. I don't know if you know the different types of Au that have existed in this shop for a long time (I don't know your age but I assume you are older?), I read one in particular that reminded me a lot of the mafia and I wanted to ask you. My cousin sent it to me and the truth is that the subject matter is funny and impertinent and I want you to give your opinion on it (I have my cousin's permission for this, it will be fun I guess)

"It is about the fact that due to lack of resources, Amity Park falls into an economic crisis where the rich do not help the poor... in this case, Mayor Vlad Masters does not help anyone, on the contrary, everyone is looking for a way to survive in the face of the prices that Only people with great resources can have it, Madey and Jack, victims of this, try to talk to Vlad so that he can at least help their children have a life in a place with resources, Vlad refuses... Until he gives them a small opportunity He tells them that he will accept Danny for a few months, that they prepare him and that he will see if he can, I don't know... go down a little or give things away to those with low incomes. He made it public and everyone agreed, threatening Danny that he had to behave for the good of the people

Danny, forced to do so, arrives at the Masters mansion and Vlad limits his powers and any type of option to get away. "eh eh, Daniel, Fenton thermoses are not accepted in this place...And by the way, you will be subjected to a power timer until the week is over" "You can't do that!" "Of course I can." Vlad uses the argument that if he doesn't do what he wants, it will go badly for Amity Park and his parents, so Vlad is forced to become Vlad's toy, who is forced, manipulated, to do what Vlad asks of him without refuse, try to escape?, for what? ...his parents would suffer the consequences as would Jazz and his friends. He has no choice but to accept his new life

His family and friends can come to visit him on a schedule, what's left of time Danny is forced to stay with Vlad locked in his big mansion-"

Duhh...Danny doesn't pay attention to Vlad and Amity Park has a power outage for a week-/jk

This is a fantastic idea. The plot is solid—introducing the problem (conflict), the antagonist (Vlad), the antagonist's solution, and the protagonist's struggle—and it's extremely compelling. I mean, Danny being held against his will by Vlad Masters in order to help the people he loves? He would do that. As much as it would kill him, he'd do it.

It could be played as comedic or dramatic. (Personally, as much as I love humor and shenanigans, I'd love to see this story playing out seriously.) There are superb whump opportunities here, as well as great moments for character development. Does Vlad change for the better after living with Danny for a while, or does he eventually succeed in corrupting Danny? Do they find a solution to the financial problem Amity Park is facing, or is Danny going to have to live with Vlad for years? Does Danny eventually go off the deep end and murder Vlad in cold blood and inherit his millions? There's so much to explore in a situation like this. It could lean toward Pompous Pep or Badger Cereal or something else altogether, and it'd still be supremely interesting.

[hyog-blog]

Fangs of Fortune (ep. 01 + ep. 02)

Okay, I managed to successfully not spoil any of the show's details (apart from it being stunningly beautiful), so I'm going in fully unprepared :D Already sensing a lot of drama brewing - the plot is twisting from the very beginning of the show! Even before we were properly introduced to all the main characters.

But first things first - why is everything so pretty? The people, the scenes, the visual effects, the rain falling down, the floating clothes, the makeup, those huge tears running down Zhuo Yichen's pretty face, the shots, the angles, the backgrounds, the music playing in the back.

It's just wow, the aesthetics is off-charts, delivering in each and every scene. I'm digging the desaturated bluish color palette with cyan/teal shadows, it's so moody and kind of hints at a not-so-happy story with torment and whatnot (I probably won't be able to prepare myself for what's about to come, so I won't even try XD)

Also, the visuals have a dream-like quality to them (and I'm guessing that's a thing? That's definitely a thing). All the details are crispy-clear until they aren't, and there's a very pleasant trippy feeling in the movement of the shots/camera/special fx, etc. It's very peculiar and incredibly immersive at the same time. As a viewer, you get a feeling that you're inside the show, the sets, and whatever demonic witchery is going on in the scene.

Next, Hou Minghou delivers his role like he was born for it. Regal, demonic, deceptive, sensual, sexual, humorous, cunning, gentle, caring, hurting, vicious... This man has had each and every type of emotion in the course of just 2 episodes and we still have no idea where's the real him (it's like you want to believe he's doing what he's doing out of the kindness of his demonic heart, but the history is telling otherwise). And I can already sense that the promise our boy Zhuo Yichen made to him will come and bite everyone in their pretty asses somewhere along the line (it's, like, already palpable).

Everyone has gotten deliciously stabby with our dashing demon Zhao Yuanzhou right from the first episode. Is this the show's love language? XD Because I'm sensing it is)) I have to admit it's kind of kinky. Even more than just a little. And if that's the M/M/F love triangle we're going for, then I'm all up for it :D

Oh, and all those funny moments? Going from dark to darkly humorous is just adding to the trippiness. I'm loving all of it so far - it's mysterious, incredibly intriguing, and all the characters are so delicious that I had to pause the scenes many times to grab those screenshots because of how amazing everything looks. And a lot of things are kind of... suggestive.

The show is so moody and visually stunning that I don't even have the words to describe it yet. Will need to watch more episodes to form some kind of opinion apart from 'wooooow' XD Also, it's hotter than heat itself and there are all kinds of delicious vibes going on. Other than that - so, so pretty! And fantasy-like in the best possible, albeit a little nightmarish way.

[just-jordie-things]

omg i love the way u write jjk characters! i was reading ur work and had a scenario that i thought would be so fun to read from you if you like the idea! i was thinking abt if you got drunk with them at the school (like maybe all the students sneak to one persons dorm or something), how they would act drunk, how they would treat u, what would happen etc. my favs are toge and yuji but you could do whoever ofc!

ok idk if this is exactly what you were looking for but since i've wrtten a few fics now where drinking/partying was the theme, i'm gonna assign the jjk crews their party night roles lolol so enjoy

ITADORI YUUJI is the life of the party, obviously. he's the type to bring jello shots to the function and if no one wants them, he'll eat em all himself. he's the guy that you dare to do stuff as the night goes on. he's the guy that somehow, at the end of each party, is missing a shirt. did he go swimming? did someone spill on it? did he spill on it? (most likely) everyone laughs but no one really complains about it. he's always got a fun plan or game in mind to keep the night going, and everyone's happy to have him there.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI is the shy-at-first guest. he's slow when he first gets there, and always claims he doesn't want to get too fucked up. he's got a never ending amount of excuses up his sleeve as to why he can't take that shot with you, or be your partner for beer pong. but give him an hour to warm up. he'll spend that time lining up a fire playlist and semi-mingling. the trick to getting him to loosen up? just a quick smoke first. don't jump on him with it, but if he sees a joint being passed around, he can't resist just a couple puffs. what's the harm, right? a couple puffs and he's giving in to whatever other party shenanigans come his way.

KUGISAKI NOBARA is in charge of the photography for the evening. everyone's instagrams and snapchat stories are well taken care of when she's around. in the early parts of the evening they're casual photos, fit checks, some candids of the laughing group as they play games or eat pizza. she's quite good with lighting and angles, and no one complains when she shoves her phone in their face. as the night goes on, she probably documents more than she should- toge drawing on yuuta's face while he's passed out, yuuji shirtless and covering himself in whipped cream on a dare- but it's always too funny to go through them the next day and delete half the evidence.

PANDA is the dancer. if he's drinking, he's dancing. it doesn't matter how many drinks are in his system. it doesn't matter if the music is particularly fun- or even playing. he's got too much excitement from hanging out with his friends and is down for a good time. he's also easy to coerce into pranking someone.

INUMAKI TOGE is the coercer of pranks. if someone passes out, he's always got a marker on him. he always has the best dares for truth or dare, and isn't afraid when others want to get their revenge. he's that class-clown energy at the party. sometimes it's annoying, but it's always undeniably funny. he definitely likes those tacky party favors from spencers. especially the big dick shaped syringes for taking shots. he's got a lot of sus 'party decorations'. but let's be real it's really fucking funny when he breaks out the newest one. also if he gets too drunk he will use his cursed speech for the sake of humor.

ZEN'IN MAKI is the bartender and general caretaker of the group. she's the best at mixed drinks and knows everyone's favorite, but always has something new to try. as the designated bartender she's also the one subtly making sure everyone is on a good track for the night. most of the time it just meant keeping an eye on yuuji and toge, reminding them to have some water every once in a while went a long way. and she's not afraid to cut you off if you're getting sloppy. i also think she'd roll the fattest, cleanest joints when she's not mixing drinks.

OKKOTSU YUUTA is the first to fall asleep. he's a good time, don't get me wrong. he loves the games and the dancing and the goofing around, but he's an overworked boy and... a bit of a lightweight. motherfucker takes two hits and is shaking his head the rest of the rotation. it's kinda cute that his eyes get all red after so little before he raids the snack table. maki knows he has a five drink limit before he either needs to drink water or rally or... as usual, he's slumped into the couch and snoozing away. it's a miracle that he can sleep so hard when the music is blasting and everyone has to yell to be heard- especially when it's itadori yelling. by the end of the night, someone's thrown a blanket over him, and toge's vandalized his face with permanent marker.

[devilfic]

Prob, wayyyy too damn specific but I saw posts of Matt and I just rewatched The Batman (2022) and like I had this prompt of:

Reader is pushed away by Matt and decides to not fall with more vigilantes but runs in with Bruce and marries him? Maybe and it becomes some love triangle plot or idk

Idk what you could do with this, pls feel free to ignore it or modify. It’s just a weird ass crossovers of my two husbands.

at first I meant to humor you a bit with my thoughts on bruce and matt as very similar lovers but then it just turned into a throuple. walk with me:

it’s funny because matt and bruce have very similar self-destructive behaviors when it comes to relationships, but I think bruce is a bit more indulgent (whether he’d admit to that or not is another story entirely).

where matt is clearly insecure about if he can protect you—certainly he will fight until his last dying breath to do so but would rather you never be in danger to begin with—bruce is (and I'm especially thinking of an older, more experienced bruce), I think, unwilling to let you know that he’s just as insecure. mainly because failure cannot be an option. bruce also has much more at his disposal to protect you (cough cough money cough) and has backup plans for days. at this point in time, bruce would be more willing to let others in and have a healthier (?) way of maintaining relationships.

matt is, to the best of his ability, an ordinary man who strikes suddenly, sometimes recklessly, and thinks better within the throes of action. matt strikes me as someone who carries too many burdens to ever think a relationship with a civillian would work. he is a martyr like bruce, but I think where matt is in daredevil and where bruce is in my mind (years later, a little less cynical) are different enough to make them stand out.

that being said, I think matt would be hella suspicious of bruce because let’s be honest…. everything about him is a red flag LMAO. I can imagine matt playing mind games with bruce if they ever met, perhaps matt is representing a client who is suing wayne enterprises and oh, look, there’s you and bruce all cuddled up in the courtroom. matt listens for bruce’s heartbeat whenever he asks a particularly pointed question about his life but bruce has trained his heartbeat to be steady, his reactions natural. he gets one past matt.

and you think this man has some NERVE interrogating your new boyfriend when he’s the one who put you out. you almost let him have a piece of your mind but think better of it.

matt wonders if you like being bruce wayne’s. are you even able to still be you? the you that he truly knows?

needless to say, if they cross each other in cowls, matt will know it’s him instantly. I think it would sting matt to know that not only had you moved on to a man of much higher class, you’d also moved onto another nocturnal vigilante. one who, apparently, had no hangups about having you.

bruce also isn’t stupid. he’d done his research into the masked vigilante running around the neighboring borough of hell’s kitchen. it wasn’t apparent to him when he’d first met matt, but a little stalking research down the line and he’d put it together. they don’t reveal this to each other at first.

but later that night, bruce is holding you and wondering… is that your type? if it was by the simple hilarity of the universe that you ended up falling for him, right after leaving a man not too different from himself.

anon, I have a feeling that when you said love triangle, you really meant a love v as in bruce likes reader, matt likes reader, and reader likes both. but if I may talk my shit, I think these two might have a lot to like about each other. two vigilantes who operate by night and shadow, who have similar dedications to justice (matt’s being the idea of righteous and fair law, bruce’s being protecting the weak and innocent and rehabilitating or stopping the corrupt), two men leading double lives, two men as equally charming, and two men in love with you. bruce and matt find it hard not to see what you like in the other.

bruce befriends him. it’s kind of an accident the way he finds a kindred spirit in him, and at first it’s purely to keep an eye on this guy, perhaps to put together a contingency plan just in case. he starts sending nelson, murdock, and page cases in gotham that could use their legal advice, sending business partners and citizens alike to their door for referrals. matt isn’t sure what to do when they start getting a wave of new clients, all suspiciously right up their alley, but foggy and karen don’t mind the extra cash flow and matt struggles to find a way to not be okay with helping those in need.

matt returns the favor and starts training bruce on how to hone his other senses in combat. the two of them will spar for hours, only stopping if alfred were to come yank them apart or, god forbid, you come home early to find your boyfriend pinning your ex to the mat.

and you’re both horrified and fascinated to find that they get along really well. but you can’t just let matt back into your life after he’d all but slammed the door in your face. he’d given up on you. now he was weaseling his way back into your life with bruce—a happy life, might I add, although no less stressful—hanging around you like a dark shadow.

bruce isn’t sure how to feel about it either. he knows how much you loved matt, how much you still love matt, and he can tell matt is not over you no matter how much he waxes poetic about the greater good and why you two couldn’t really work out. bruce gets it, worries that maybe he should get it more and cut you loose too before something happens to you. it had always been their worry: that while they were off protecting the city, there’d be no one there to watch over you. and there was no one there to watch over you. once upon a time.

there is no organized discussion about it. bruce is less hung up about it than matt. it does feel odd, imagining him around you and it being… normal. inviting matt over for dinner with your permission, and sharing wine and heavy goodbyes as bruce pays a taxi to see him home safe. he considers the way you squirm at the table, trying to keep it friendly between you and matt but there is that ache in your chest that remembers this man differently. it feels disrespectful and rude to be friends with him now, having him around gotham. eventually bruce asks you as you wind down for the night, his rings clattering onto the dresser tray as you pull back the sheets, “you love him still.” well, he doesn’t ask.

you freeze, halfway into the sheets, unsure if you’d even heard him right, “I’m sorry?”

“matthew,” he casts a glance over his shoulder, “it didn’t really end between you. not on your end.”

“if you’re trying to accuse me of something-“

“I’m not. I can see it on you.” but bruce’s voice isn’t angry or mocking or blaming. it’s… oddly resolute. thoughtful, even. “I like him.”

“I… what are you saying, bruce?”

he crawls under the sheets, nonchalant, but he finds himself just a little (just a little) unsure. “I’m saying that… maybe the reason why he pushed you away isn’t a problem anymore,” he stares ahead, focused on the fireplace that burns low, “if you wanted him still. I wouldn’t mind it. I wouldn’t mind him.”

you almost can’t believe your ears. “and you like him.”

bruce takes a minute to shrug, as if he needed to roll it around in his mind one more time.

“do you… want us to be together? all of us?” you watch the reflection of the fire in his eyes, waiting with bated breath.

he turns his head to you, “if we can get the usher boy to agree.”

you have to have a long, long talk with matt. there’s tears and a little anger and a whole lot of uncertainty as you talk out your tumultuous parting but then, as matt’s guilt starts slipping in and he says he’ll stay out of gotham so that he doesn’t cause you more pain, you blurt it out. matt isn’t sure he’s heard you right. you have to repeat yourself, a bit more eloquently, “I said… do you want to be with me and bruce?”

he doesn’t immediately say yes. in fact, he takes a day or two to himself to think about it. he’s staunchly sure in the beginning that he will turn you down but the words do not form, the hesitance keeps him from calling. when he gets advice from foggy (who is twice as bewildered but all too excited by the prospect) about how to say he’s not interested, he writes it down and it just. doesn’t feel right. he finds himself rearranging the words in his mind to be softer, more… flexible. less “hard and fast no” and more “I just don’t know”. the more he thinks about it the less inclined he is to even SAY the word no. is it because it’d really, finally cut you out of his life? would he only be saying yes to have you again?

bruce would be there too, that’s the key thing. maybe it could start out as just him being with you and bruce being with you at the same time, but maybe that was too weird for him to think about. sharing you with someone else. he wouldn’t want to. but what would the alternative be?

he calls bruce to meet in hell’s kitchen where he feels safer. bruce is calm, not imposing in the least. he lets matt rant it all out and get his feelings in check. when he’s blown off all the steam, bruce just says, “if it comes down to it, there’ll be no hard feelings if it ends.”

“this is crazy.”

“you can say no.”

“yeah. I know.”

some time passes. bruce comes to stand beside matt sitting on the ledge of the rooftop, keeping his heavy gaze fixed on him. “they still love you.”

“I know.”

the two of them say nothing for a while. matt tries to focus on the city, as loud as it always is, but keeps zeroing in on the steady earnest thumping of the man’s heart right next to him. he is being honest with what remains unsaid, what you’d told matt days ago that he still struggled to believe. he tilts his head so, and bruce has known him long enough now to know that he’s thinking hard about what to say next, “I suppose you’ll have to take me on a date first. just so we’re all even.”

“is pinning you to the mat not courting enough for you?”