#and I know this sounds overly ambitious

[confused-canid]

"I didn't transition because graduating as a man would be so embarrassing"

No! You just put yourself through suffering and hid yourself away because of transphobia!!

I want to graduate as a man. I want to graduate as an openly and LOUDLY queer man. I want to be a paleontologist, one who makes incredible discoveries. One who people know about! I want to be a famous openly queer paleontologist! I want little trans kids with a special interest in paleontology or dinosaur obsessions to learn about me and see themselves! To apply my experiences to themselves, and find out about their transness. I want them to look up to me! I want to be a man. One who makes big discoveries. One who helps others discover parts of themselves.

Don't you?

[darkmatilda]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a spontaneous idea for a new year's eve party doesn't seem so brilliant anymore when there's so much to do and so little time left. and when the sound of fireworks wakes you up with flashbacks. but luckily, reid's right there with you. as always.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer x newbau!female reader, baking cookies together, the beginning is really chaotic, reader has a panic attack and flashbacks from time when she was a hostage (in my previous fic but there's no need to read it before. no major references as usual), mention of shooting. penelope garcia slaying. glasses read one more time (will i ever get bored of this?) a lot of jokes (successful i hope) most of the fic is very fluffy, inspired by new year's eve by taylor swift (i recommend listening to this song on repeat while reading)

𝐚/𝐧: this is probably one of my fav fics of mine, i literally cried while writing (because there's no one to clean up the bottles with me on new year's day)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6k

“Okay, I think we’ve got everything. Although, do you think we have enough types of cheese...?”

“There’s so much cheese it won’t even fit on one board, Pen.”

“Exactly, so maybe we should make two…”

“Hey, look. Do you think these glasses will work for champagne?”

“Two boards—one with cheese, more savory, and the other with…”

“Because I don’t think I have any others. Jesus, I need to wash these; they’re fucking sticky…”

“…and on the second one, we’ll arrange the cookies we’re going to bake…”

“Shit, the cookies. I’m not even sure if this oven works…”

“Wait, did we even buy olives? Fuck, how could we forget olives…”

“Screw the olives! Wash the glasses if you can, and I’ll check the oven…”

“What do you mean, screw the olives?! How the fuck are you supposed to make a cheese board without olives?!”

For about twenty minutes now, you and Garcia had been running around the kitchen in your house, talking over each other non-stop and hardly listening. A grocery bag sat unopened on the kitchen island, you hadn’t started preparing a single one of your overly ambitious snacks, and some pesky gremlin was doing flips on your shoulder, whispering tauntingly, you know it’s highly likely the milk in your fridge is expired, right?

Well, that’s just how it goes when you decide to throw a New Year’s Eve party spontaneously—on New Year’s Eve afternoon. Honestly, it was a fucking miracle so many people agreed to come. And once they said yes, there was no backing out. You had to organize everything: the food, decorating your house, outfits, makeup. With every passing minute, Penelope was transforming into a full-blown organizational beast, completely unsure what to tackle first. The two cute space buns on top of her head had fallen apart, leaving her blonde curls loosely cascading down her neck—not that she even seemed to notice.

You, on the other hand, were losing steam fast. All you wanted was to curl up in a ball on the floor and eat cheese without bothering to arrange it on a board in an aesthetic way. Two types of people under time pressure. 

To make matters worse, the doorbell rang.

“Coming!” you shouted, your voice so filled with irritation that, if you were in the visitor’s shoes, you’d have turned and run for your life. Quickly, you opened the fridge and sniffed the damned milk. No signs of spoilage, thank fuck. There was no way you had time to go back to the store…

You made it to the door, and halfway there, you realized you were still holding the open bottle of milk you had forgotten to put back. You sighed, turned around, and with a double dose of rage, anxiety, and sheer insanity, you finally opened the door.

"Hey," Reid greeted, standing on the doorstep. His glasses were perched on his nose, and his hair was slightly tousled from the rather strong wind that day. Without even looking at you, he pointed to the brown bag hanging from his shoulder. "So, about those board games, when you invited me, I decided to look something up online and ordered one that I think you'll like. It's inspired by the works of Jane Austen, and players take on the roles of characters from the Regency era..."

"Is someone trying to sell you something, or what?" You heard Penelope's voice from the kitchen.

"Anyway, I ordered it, but unfortunately, it didn’t arrive, so I just grabbed chess and..."

You could only manage a confused shake of your head.

"Reid, with all due respect, but what the hell are you talking about?"

He looked at you as if you’d asked him for the juicy details of raccoon marital life.

"You invited me over for New Year’s," he reminded you, frowning slightly, as if wondering whether he’d gotten something wrong—like the day, maybe. "Me and Garcia. We were supposed to play board games..."

Your mouth dropped open as you suddenly remembered he was absolutely right. You had invited him. For board games. And then forgot to cancel after you’d all decided to spend the evening in a completely different way.

"Give me just a second," you said, and without waiting for a reply, slammed the door in his face.

Then you screamed. Stomping your foot like a frustrated child. Why, oh why, did you have the memory of a goldfish? Forgetting literally everything, from buying those damn olives to canceling this meeting. Why did the last day of the year have to suck so much? Why couldn’t anything in your life just go smoothly?

"The plans have… slightly changed," you explained with an apologetic smile when you reopened the door. 

Reid rocked slightly on his heels, his hand clenched around the strap of his bag. He had clearly heard what happened after you closed the door and looked as though he was debating whether to hand you a note with the number of a good psychiatrist.

"But that doesn't mean I'm kicking you out," you assured him quickly. "I’m really, really glad you decided to come, seriously. So, sorry about how things turned out. But still—will you come in? Garcia's here."

He shrugged and followed you inside.

"What exactly does plans have changed mean?" he asked.

He didn’t look around the room—he’d been to your house countless times before. Lately, for the past few months, with an increasing frequency. But he did stare curiously at a disheveled Penelope, who was busy loading glasses into the dishwasher.

"Well, we met up for lunch," she began explaining without even turning to face him. You didn’t waste the little time you had either, pulling ingredients for cookies out of the fridge. "We talked a bit about Derek and Elle spending New Year’s Eve in the Maldives. And our princess here decided that she wasn’t going to spend the evening in a nerdy way, playing nerdy board games, with two nerds like us..."

"I didn’t say that!" you protested indignantly.

"...while they’re sipping cocktails on the beach and having a great time. And so, it turned out we’re throwing a party."

The explanation came to an end, and Reid listened to it all without much emotion on his face, something you caught out of the corner of your eye. But you didn’t expect him to be devastated. After all, it wasn’t as if you had canceled an event the two of you had been counting down to like prisoners marking days on their cell walls, eagerly awaiting freedom.

Standing by the kitchen island, he glanced at you, then at Garcia, then behind him, as if unsure whether he should stay or politely excuse himself and leave.

“You’re invited, by the way,” you clarified, because while you thought it was obvious, maybe it wasn’t so clear to him. “So, yeah, if you’re planning to come, you have no choice—you have to help me bake these cookies. Get with it.”

You tossed him one of the aprons. The other you began tying around your waist.

Reid caught the object you threw, looked at it with furrowed brows, then shifted his gaze to you, a hint of something resembling a smile flickering across his face.

“Who said I’m planning to come?” he asked.

His mock-offensive tone didn’t quite match what he was doing—slipping the apron over his head. It made you snort.

“Oh, what, got other plans, pretty boy?” Penelope teased. “Some wild party at the book club?”

She leaned over to close the dishwasher. But instead of straightening up, she froze in place, staring at her reflection in the machine’s door. Her jaw dropped, and she gasped in something close to horror.

“What happened to my hair? I look... I look like…”

“Like a homeless caveman who just barely won a fight with lightning?” you suggested in a syrupy tone. “But only just.”

“Excuse me for a moment,” she huffed.

She left the kitchen, the sound of her heels echoing as she headed upstairs to the bathroom. Reid turned to himself with a smug expression.

“Does a caveman qualify as homeless if he lives in a cave…”

You interrupted him with your outstretched hand, pressing it to his mouth.

“Cookies, Reid. Not philosophy.”

You were planning to bake simple butter cookies in the shape of stars, and then decorate them with edible glitter. You started pulling out all the necessary ingredients from the fridge and cabinets, which were soon covering the countertop in your kitchen. You stood side by side, and your eyes were drawn to the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, barely touching his wrists. Unable to resist, you grabbed his hand and started rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

"You could've just told me..." he began, looking at you in surprise.

You merely shrugged. You found yourselves facing each other, and you nodded towards his other hand, which he gave you after a brief hesitation. Just like before, you rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, but this time much more slowly. As more of his skin appeared before your eyes, you gathered yourself to speak.

"I feel a bit bad about how things turned out with the games," you admitted, not looking up to meet his gaze. You focused on his hand, holding it by the knuckles.

"It's okay," he reassured you, his voice soft without a hint of reproach.

"I should've warned you earlier," you continued stubbornly. "Instead of doing it last minute. And, you know, if you don't want to come to this party, that's totally okay. I know you were expecting something different..."

"I was expecting to spend time with you," he interrupted, then paused to clear his throat. It was then that you realized you were still holding his hand. His fingers trembled slightly when you let go, and he immediately shoved it into his pocket—perhaps to hide it. "We can have a game night another time. On a different day. Like, this weekend, for example. If you'd want, of course. Not that I'm pressuring you..."

"I would like that," you assured him, looking up at him with a smile, amused by his over-explaining. It always charmed you. You used to think it was because you didn't know each other well and he still felt nervous around you, but as time passed, you came to realize that maybe that was just how he was. "Seriously. And it's not just because I feel guilty about how I left you hanging today. I'm genuinely curious about that game you ordered. It’s inspired by Austen's novels, right?"

He started to tell you more about it, while you both added the first ingredients into a large glass bowl. As he began to knead the dough with his hands, you leaned your elbow on the countertop, propping your chin on your hand, listening to him.

"...one of the symbols of excess in 17th century England was a dish called A Pie of a Thousand Birds..."

You wondered when the conversation had shifted to this topic, while Penelope was still in the bathroom.

 "...containing various kinds of birds, sometimes in different layers, cooked together. In the earliest records of this dish, it mentions anywhere from a dozen to several dozen birds such as quails, chickens, geese..."

Reid suddenly stopped when his gaze landed on you. He must have been so absorbed in kneading the dough and sharing this tidbit with you that he was completely unaware of the fact that you were staring at him.

You raised an eyebrow questioningly.

 "Is something wrong?"

"No," he quickly assured you, adjusting his glasses on his nose. He had a bit of dough on his skin, which seemed to escape his notice. He furrowed his brow, trying to remember where he'd left off. "And... quails..."

You couldn't bring yourself to tell him he'd already mentioned them. Instead of that, you moved from your spot, slowly lifting your hands off the counter and approached him to wipe away the stray bit of dough beneath his eye. Reid, wanting to make sure nothing else was left on his face, wiped it with his hand… which was completely covered in dough. At the sight of his expression when he realized what he had done, you couldn't help but burst out laughing, your head resting against his apron from the weight of it. Meanwhile, he desperately tried to wipe away the remnants using the clean skin of his forearms, muttering a few curses under his breath, which only made you laugh harder.

"I see you're having a great time," Penelope returned to the kitchen.

On top of her head were two cute buns once again, resembling little snails.

"The best," you corrected, undeterred, trying once more to wipe his face. This time, not as gently as before, until he flinched back under the pressure of your hand, scrunching his nose tightly.

You glanced at the clock, and your playful mood started to wane. There was still so much to do, and you rallied everyone into action. Penelope rolled up her sleeves to prepare the charcuterie boards (it turned out the olives were at the bottom of the bag), you got to work on the mini sandwiches, and Reid was busy cutting out star shapes from the rolled-out dough using a champagne bottle as a makeshift rolling pin.

“Oh, by the way, Pen,” you began, opening the heated oven to put in the first batch of cookies, “we’re still going to kiss at midnight, right?”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Nothing’s changed,” your friend replied, focused on arranging various types of cheese into the best possible combination.

Reid, meanwhile, was taking off his apron, folding it into a perfectly neat square, a frown of concentration on his face.

“Why kiss specifically at midnight?” he asked.

“You haven’t heard about that tradition?” you asked, surprised. “A kiss at midnight brings good luck in love and relationships for the whole next year. Skipping it means the opposite.”

“I didn’t know you were superstitious.”

“It’s just a gesture. Or maybe, better put, a symbol. But anyway, last year I was having a bit too much fun and passed out before midnight. And, well, I don’t think I need to tell you it wasn’t the best year for relationships. Or rather, the lack of them.”

“Doesn’t that mean you should kiss two people this year? One for the previous year and one for the current one?” Garcia suggested thoughtfully.

You mulled it over as well.

“Actually, that makes sense. But who?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” your friend assured you. “There’s bound to be some handsome volunteer. And if not, Reid could always be your backup option.”

You glanced at him briefly, biting your lip as you considered the suggestion. Funny enough, you hadn’t thought of him at all. Not because you found the idea of kissing him unpleasant or something you wouldn’t want to do. It was just… this tradition felt more like grabbing a random person, the first friend within reach. Something done without much thought—a gesture that, in this context, meant absolutely nothing serious.

Wait, but with Reid, would it mean something serious? Why the hesitation all of a sudden? You shook your head, dismissing the train of thought.

You looked at him again; he seemed to be making a deliberate effort to keep his gaze fixed on Penelope, not on you. Though as soon as he sensed you looking at him, he turned his eyes to meet yours, his expression unreadable.

“What do you think?” you asked before you could stop yourself. To ease the sudden, inexplicable tension, you added with a playful smile, “My entire romantic year would rest in your hands—or rather, on your lips. Would you be ready to take on such a sacrifice?”

“Think carefully, darling,” Penelope chimed in, pointing a finger at him. “Otherwise, we’ll all have to spend the next twelve months listening to her complain about how awful men are and how unlucky she is in love…”

“I’m starting to feel an unjustified amount of pressure,” Reid remarked cautiously. You kept staring at him, arms crossed over your chest as you stood near the oven, its orange glow casting a warm light across the kitchen.

“No pressure. And just so we’re clear, it’s not like I’m taking advantage of you. You’d benefit from this too. Unless, of course, you decide to kiss someone else—then, fine…”

“Considering I probably won’t know anyone else at this party? Slim chances…”

A snort escaped you before you could stop it. Both of them turned to you with curiosity.

“What I mean…” you began hesitantly, gesturing toward him. He was objectively handsome—maybe not every woman’s type, but then again, no man was. In your opinion, though, he absolutely was. There was something about his polished, intellectual demeanor that occasionally clashed with his sharp wit, creating a strangely magnetic allure. You gestured at him again, as if emphasizing your point. “Just try not rolling down the sleeves of that shirt until midnight, and you’ll see your chances aren’t that slim.”

He shook his head, utterly bewildered.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, Pen, explain it to him,” you sighed in mock defeat.

“She means your forearms are sexy,” Penelope clarified without missing a beat.

Reid looked down at his hands as though they belonged to someone else entirely. You exchanged an amused glance with Garcia, and the whole midnight kiss topic… well, it drifted away. You weren’t entirely sure if he had agreed or not.

You wanted to casually bring it up again, but soon Penelope left the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone with a tray of freshly baked cookies ready to be decorated. Somehow, to your own surprise, you couldn’t summon the courage to ask.

"I bought edible glitter specifically for these cookies," you said, pulling a small box from the cupboard. "Apparently, it’s flavorless, but it’ll make the star-shaped cookies look magical. Maybe we should mix it with the icing?"

Reid stared intently at the label on the bottle, silent.

"What? What’s wrong?" you asked, suddenly worried.

"That’s not edible glitter," he announced. For a split second, you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. But when he noticed your completely bewildered—and now slightly furious—expression, his face quickly returned to its usual stillness. "It’s just regular glitter."

"You’ve got to be kidding me, Reid."

"Since when does edible glitter contain polyethylene terephthalate and aluminum?"

You snatched the package out of his hands, and when his words were confirmed, you slapped your forehead.

"Did I just almost kill all my guests?"

"Maybe not kill them right away," he said, his tone comforting as he took the package back from your hands before you could hit yourself with it again. "Complications from eating include gastrointestinal irritation like vomiting, nausea, and possibly damage to the mucous membranes of the mouth..."

"You're not helping."

"Sorry."

For a moment, you both stood in silence, your gaze still fixed on the tray of cooling cookies.

"But this isn't the end of the world," Reid said gently after a moment. "They still have their... interesting shape. We can decorate them with regular icing. Draw something on them. They may not sparkle, but they'll be just as delicious. And that's probably the most important thing, right?"

You knew he was right, but still, there was a certain sadness in the way you nodded. It took you a while to realize how much you’d been obsessing over such a small thing. You let out a chuckle, and he did the same.

"And I even came up with an idea for what to do with the glitter," you announced after a moment, taking the open box in your hands. A bit of the shimmering particles landed on your outstretched palm, and Reid squinted when you blew on it, sending the glitter his way. "I’ll make you shine. You’ll match the rest of the decorations..."

When Penelope returned to the kitchen, she found herself in the middle of a full-blown war, not even a battle anymore. Reid had both of your hands raised and held still, preventing you from reaching for another handful of glitter. You tried to wriggle out of this trap, kneeing him or doing something, but it wasn't really working. So there you were, looking like you were caught in some kind of bizarre dance neither of you knew the steps to, but your half-smiling faces suggested you weren’t too bothered by it.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to get that glitter out of your hair until the next New Year’s Eve.

*

You had a rule to be careful with alcohol when the party was at your house.

 You preferred to make sure everything was running smoothly. Nothing slipped out of control — no one played baseball with your TV (although you hoped the adult crowd had outgrown that kind of entertainment), no one felt unwell or needed help. Moving between people, conversations, and laughter, asking if anyone needed anything or was having a good time, reminding everyone not to smoke inside. You didn’t notice when it all started to drain you. So much so that you decided to sneak away for a moment in the upstairs bathroom.

You just needed a little time alone, splashing cold water on your neck, playing a game on your phone for five minutes while sitting on the closed toilet seat. That’s all you needed.

Your bathroom had a window, usually left open. The room was on the second floor, so there was no chance anyone could be watching. You never worried about it. The window overlooked the yard of one of your neighbors, whom you didn’t even know. As you returned, you stood with your hands on the cool sink, your eyes half-closed from exhaustion but feeling a sense of relief.

Midnight was in fifteen minutes. The year was ending in fifteen minutes.

A lot has happened over the past twelve months. The most important, of course, was joining the BAU. A huge achievement for someone so young, always commented on with a surprised raise of the eyebrows, so much so that it still hadn’t fully sunk in for you. A fair amount, but still not enough, of cases solved, unsub caught, lives saved.

Apart from the professional achievements, there was also something you couldn’t add to your CV or your dating profile. Memories. The big ones, and the ones often overlooked. The countless smiles exchanged over office desks, the amused nudges of elbows, the hours spent in simple laughter. The nights, the ones spent dancing in clubs or at house parties, the ones in your friends' homes with bottles of wine passed from hand to hand and gossip flowing from your lips, one after the other, in a constant stream of surprised exclamations and sighs. There were also those spent in sad motels during business trips. Many of them, but it was the shabby ones that stuck with you the most. Narrow beds shared with Reid, because of his fear of the dark, which worsened in such places. Sometimes silly conversations and arguments, but also the more serious ones. Comforting. And, of course, you had to include the people around you, those you met this year, and those who have been with you for a long time. All the moments when you were happy, and all the ones when you cried. The books and movies. Those that disappointed you so much that you cursed them for days. Those that made you laugh until you choked, but also the ones that nailed you to the theater seat, your gaze vacant and your mind drifting somewhere on the waves of an existential crisis.

You thought about it all with a small smile on your lips

Unfortunately, when you focused on reflecting on the passing year, another memory hit you—one of those decidedly unpleasant ones. The one where, under the guise of normality, you found yourself in the middle of a robbery, becoming a hostage. And as you watched one body after another drop motionless to the floor, blood pooling around them.

The sink you were leaning against grew warm. Your hands were hot, sweating. You shook your head, trying to push away the uncomfortable memory. Why dwell on it? It was over, long over...

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a flash in your neighbor's yard. A bright spot rising into the air, even though it wasn't even midnight yet. What kind of idiot sets off fireworks before the New Year? What was the point of that?

You straightened up, an irrational sense of danger taking hold of you. As if that fired projectile was about to crash through your window, causing an explosion in the room. Absurd, you knew that. But then the sound hit. A blast, almost like a gunshot. A gunshot coming from an unknown direction, fading lights around you, and screams. You took a breath as another shot rang out. Fireworks lit up the night sky, a green glow spilling into your bathroom, painting your face. You stayed frozen, breath held, with your chest tight.

You knew you should move, shake off the state that the experience had put you in, but… you couldn’t. Although physically unharmed, in your own home, fear took control, robbing you of your agency. Your heartbeat quickened to an unnatural pace, a sickly rhythm. It paralyzed your limbs, one by one, while images kept flashing before your eyes, intensifying with each approaching shot.

Since your actions and most of your awareness remained beyond your control, you soon realized that you were sitting on the floor. And, worst of all, a silhouette cast its shadow over you. You flinched, expecting to see a pair of leather boots and a gun pointed at you.

“It’s just me,” came a quiet, familiar voice, somehow cutting through the wall that separated you from the world. “Me, Spencer. Sorry I came in, but you didn’t respond when I knocked... okay, that doesn’t really matter right now.”

He sighed and crouched down right in front of you, his forehead furrowed in concern. Hesitantly, he reached for your shoulder, lightly touching it, but you flinched the moment his hand moved.

“No touching, it’s okay. I understand, I get it. I understand... what you’re going through.” He spoke quietly and calmly, but you could see a hint of panic crossing his face as he carefully observed yours, choosing his words. He swallowed hard. “You’re really scared, your hands are shaking, you can’t... you can’t breathe. It’s a panic attack, you know what that means. And... it’s temporary. The important thing is to just breathe. I know it’s hard... but just try…”

The surrounding air seemed thick, like some dense gas filling your nostrils and painfully entering your lungs. You shook your head in refusal, not wanting to do it again.

"Slowly, they don’t have to be deep breaths. Just try to make them steady, okay? Please," he continued, settling down closer to you on the floor. He was also breathing the way he described, trying to demonstrate for you. Focusing on the rise and fall of his chest, you made another attempt. It went... better.

"Exactly like that. We're at a party now, remember? At your house. We baked cakes specially for the occasion. It's New Year's Eve and people are shooting fireworks... those are fireworks, just regular fireworks..."

The green glow crept in again through the window, covering and retreating from your two huddled forms on the floor like a tide. You focused on what he was saying, alternately keeping your eyes tightly shut and wide open. You preferred them closed—it was easier to listen to him that way. But when you closed them, it felt like he was so far away. You reached out with trembling hands, trying to touch him, to make sure he was really there in front of you. And before you realized it, you fell into his embrace, your hands clutching his back in panic with every new shot outside.

You could close your eyes; his presence and scent were with you. You could close your eyes, pretend it wasn’t happening, that you weren’t there.

But it didn’t stop. Reid whispered that it was midnight, and the next round of fireworks shot into the sky, sending those trembling sounds that rattled you. A part of your mind knew why this was happening, so why did your body still react this way?

You buried yourself deeper into his arms, feeling some weight on the top of your head—he must have rested his chin there. You kept trying to breathe, and by accident, you inhaled the scent of his neck, which, surprisingly, helped. One breath after another. In and out. His skin. Another shot outside. In and out.

It must have been many minutes before it finally stopped. You both ended up leaning against the wall, side by side. Your knees were pulled to your chest, his legs stretched out. From downstairs, through the floor, came the muffled sound of music, and that’s what you focused on. On that, and on counting the tiles on the neighboring wall, on the hands of Reid’s watch moving forward. On the details, helping you ground yourself.

"How do you feel now?" he broke the silence that had lasted for several minutes with a quiet question.

You pressed the back of your head to the wall behind you, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Better," you said after a moment. The sound from your throat was raspy, and you swallowed, pausing for a second. "Isn't it... isn't it a strange twist of fate that we're always there for each other when something bad happens to the other person?"

You kept your gaze fixed ahead, and from the corner of your eye, you saw him looking at you. Slowly, he shrugged.

"Isn't that what friendship is about?" he asked.

Then, you shrugged.

"Friendship," you repeated, turning the word around on your tongue. You shook your head slightly. "I guess so. I mean, I guess that's what it's about." For a moment, you paused, lightly licking your lips. Your mind was still clouded, and you struggled to form coherent sentences. "I completely forgot what I was talking about a moment ago. What was it about again?"

Reid smiled gently at the look on your face, the expression confused but calm. And then... his hand slowly dropped to the top of your head, gently stroking it and sliding down along your cheek, where it stopped.

"Friendship," he repeated slowly.

Suddenly, as if realizing something, he turned his head slightly, as if to pull his hand away, but you stopped him. You grabbed it, and even though it had moved away from your face, your cheek, you enclosed it in a gentle grasp with both of your hands, the way a shell embraces a pearl.

You noticed the time on his watch.

"It’s already past midnight," you remarked. "Do you think everyone’s too drunk to look for us, or do they just honestly not care what we've been doing in the bathroom for the past hour?"

He chuckled at your words, amused by your suggestive tone.

"Don’t want to go back?" he asked, making sure.

You immediately shook your head.

"Not yet. I like it here. And I guess I’m not ready," you said, the last part tinged with a slight embarrassment. He nodded understandingly, signaling that it was okay. You didn’t have to leave yet.

You sighed, probably for the hundredth time.

"Honestly, I’ve completely lost my party mood. We could’ve played those board games instead. When I think about the bottles I’ll have to clean up tomorrow, I just feel like I might puke."

"We'll be here. Me. And Garcia," he reminded you. "You thought we were just going to disappear together, expecting you to clean up all this mess by yourself?"

"It's not really your responsibility," you replied with a slight shrug. However, a small, grateful smile tugged at your lips. "It would have been enough if you helped me set it all up. Even if it meant the entire kitchen glittering with sparkles before the party even started."

"New Year’s Eve decorations."

"Right," you scoffed. "That I’ll never get rid of. It will always look like a place where My Little Pony ponies had an alcoholic binge."

As you continued to stare at his hand, lying limp on your lap, and at his watch, you realized something else. A thought that made you tilt your head back with a sigh.

"I missed midnight again," you groaned suddenly. "Third year in a row. Where am I supposed to find three people to kiss next year, when I couldn't even find two this time?"

"You did manage," Reid pointed out, frowning slightly. "Penelope. And if you're counting your backup option, that would be me too."

"Would you?" you asked, surprised.

Pleasantly surprised. This subject had slipped by so quickly that you were sure his final answer would have been a no. You glanced fleetingly at his lips. They were slightly parted, probably in the same way they would have been if everything had gone according to plan. If you had found yourselves facing each other under the full, colorful-blinking night sky.

He nodded slightly in response, his upper and lower lips meeting. You tore your gaze away from them and refocused on the rest of his face.

"Sure," he replied aloud. He was close, the words escaping him with a slight breath of his air. "I mean... I'd also like to have a good year. So far, it’s started well. Anyway... yeah. I don't mind if you extend my backup option subscription for next year too."

The way he phrased it amused you. you lowered your gaze for a moment with a smile. Then you nodded, turning your head back toward him.

"So I guess I have my lineup for next New Year's," you said, letting go of his hand to start counting on your fingers. Both of you only realized then that you had been holding it at all. "First, of course, my husband..."

"Husband?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

"I’m being very ambitious this year, Reid," you assured him, with mock seriousness. "Then Garcia, if she agrees again. But she probably will. Unless Derek gets in the way. Oh well, I’ll just send him to the tropics again. And then, number three, you."

"Your husband won’t mind if you kiss me?"

Something changed in his expression, and it was becoming harder for you to maintain eye contact. Your gaze kept dropping, as if it were searching for something against your will. Plus, the whole bathroom suddenly felt incredibly small, your movements slow, like in slow motion. You forced yourself to wave it off dismissively.

"He’ll understand," you said, forcing yourself to take a breath. You had forgotten again, but this time, it wasn’t panic. It was more about his face, so close to yours, the side of your head against the wall, your bodies nearly touching. "Well, he won’t have a choice. If he wants our marriage to last happily and forever, he’ll have to let me make up for all those lost years, those three missed kisses. Sorry... if I’m talking nonsense right now, just tell me, I don’t know what’s happening with me..."

When he kissed you, for a moment, you couldn’t find yourself. Even though everything had been leading to this, with your faces so close for the last twenty minutes, gazes repeatedly falling on each other's lips, it still surprised you. You sucked in a breath through your nose as his lips pressed into yours.

Only when his hand, the same one you had been playing with for so long, the one that had earlier caressed your cheek, fell back into the same place, carelessly resting and brushing the tips of his fingers against a small part of your ear, did you truly feel it. You squeezed your eyelids shut, placing your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It wasn’t the kind of kiss you usually associated with New Year’s Eve, one you’d forget the next day or mention with a fleeting smile. Every thought of it was meant to bring overwhelming loneliness to your lips, to make you imagine it still lasting. It alternated between tasting you slowly and carefully and consuming you with the anticipation held captive between you.

You sighed softly against his lips, and he mirrored it when you briefly pulled away. Your breaths mingled, your faces still close, foreheads gently touching.

“I almost forgot,” you whispered, barely lifting your eyelids. “Happy New Year.”

He smiled, his lips brushing yours once more for a fleeting moment.

“May your wishes come true...or something like that.”

“Or something like that.” you whispered, completely distracted, before pulling him back to you again.

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling

[freeabortionslol]

don't marry him (quinn hughes x bsf!reader) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

summary: angst, quinn talks reader out of engagement, unrequited love (kinda), reader is a lawyer, lots of flashbacks, italics mean flashbacks, not a single y/n used (yay!) warnings!! anxiety, panic attacks, cursing, intense argument a/n: okay so I rly didn't know what to do with this bc it honestly felt wrong to have him confess his feelings in this moment LMAO so I think I'm def gonna do a pt 2. anyways this was the fic from my drafts that the people voted for so here it is!! hope u enjoy :)

wc: 4.1k

“You lost.” Quinn said, staring out at the Lake, not making eye contact with you.

“What?” You asked, twirling your flashy engagement ring around your finger. 

Max had come into your life at a time when everything felt uncertain. You were fresh off a series of career setbacks, questioning your worth and your ability to build the future you had always dreamed of. He was steady, charismatic, and above all, ambitious. Qualities you admired and felt you needed to anchor yourself. He made you feel secure in a world that often felt chaotic.

Quinn sighed, turning to face you slightly. “At life. You lost.” He mumbled out, taking a sip of his beer before turning back to the lake. Your face quickly softened with a hint of sadness.

“I-I didn’t lose. I’m happy and successful.” You said, your tone coming off with a hint of anger. 

You and Max met at a work conference, one of those overly formal events where you spent half the time pretending to be interested in panel discussions and the other half networking. Max had approached you during a coffee break, his easy confidence setting him apart from the crowd. His suit was perfectly tailored, his smile sharp but not unkind.

Quinn took one look at you, shifting in his seat slightly. “Y-You…you don’t want this.” Your heart thumped slightly, cracking your knuckles to drown out the sounds of your own thoughts. “I’m scared for you.” 

Max’s love came with conditions. He valued success above all else, and he expected you to do the same. Work always came first, even if it meant skipping family events or cutting vacations short for a meeting. He didn’t understand why you needed to spend time with Quinn, Luke, and Jack.

“Quinn, I love him. You know that.” Your brows furrowed in an attempt to make him understand. 

The engagement came as a surprise, even to you. It was during a charity gala, one of those glittering events Max thrived in. He had pulled you onto the stage during his speech, getting down on one knee in front of hundreds of people. The ring sparkled under the chandeliers, and the applause was deafening. You had said yes because saying no didn’t feel like an option. Not with Max’s expectant smile, the cameras flashing, and the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“But do you like him?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you continued to fidget with the ring on your finger. The ring that was far too heavy to be wearing constantly, its band made of gold instead of your preferred silver. His words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking in your chest like a stone tossed in the still waters of the lake. His gaze remained fixed ahead, unwavering.

Max wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t cruel or unkind. But he didn’t see you, not the way Quinn did. He saw your potential, your ambition, but not the person you were when all the noise fell away.

“I-I…I don’t- of course I like him. What are you getting at?” You stuttered, confused about your own feelings on the matter. Quinn glanced at you with a side eye, taking another swig from his bottle before speaking.

“Really?” He asked, his heart shattering at the sight of tears welling in your eyes. “I see the face you make when he talks. It’s blank, unreadable. And when he laughs? Your eyes scrunch up like when we would drag you out of bed to get on the boat.” Quinn lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. “You really want to wake up next to his mustache every morning for the rest of your life?” You roll your eyes, posture slumping.

“Don’t make fun of him.” You warned, your voice becoming stern. Quinn bites the inside of his mouth before turning away. “I’m successful, Quinn.”

“Yeah-yeah, that’s great. You have all the fuckin’ money you could’ve wished for.” He huffs out with a sarcastic smile.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me sound materialistic-” You crossed your arms, Quinn cutting you off quickly.

“Well it’s kind of hard when all you do is work and work-” His voice raises significantly.

“This is my dream! If you can’t accept the fact that i’m happy-”

“Yeah! And you’re so damn caught up in it that you don’t have time for us anymore!” He yells, sending you a look of anger. One you’d never seen before. He breathes heavily, trying to calm himself down as he moves to the edge of his seat. His eyes soften when he catches your expression, scared. He sighs reluctantly before he speaks again. “Luke notices the way you brush him off when Max is around. He notices how you never fly out to Jersey to see him and Jack like you used to.” Your breath hitched as Quinn’s words pierced through the air. His voice had calmed, but the raw emotion in his eyes cut deeper than his raised tone ever could. You looked away, not able to face the weight of his gaze, and stared at the rippling water instead. The golden light of the setting sun shimmered on the surface, mimicking the perfection you thought you’d built. 

“Luke said that?” You whispered, your voice barely audible. A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. You didn’t want this, not here, not ever. 

“Yeah.” He replied softly. “Jack see’s it too. They miss you.” Quinn turned his head to face you, your gaze still not meeting his. “I miss you.” You turned to glance at him, tears bubbling as you brushed a strand of hair from your face. You continued playing with your ring, biting your lip to hold the cries. 

You sniffled, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “This is my life. I won.” You croaked out. Quinn sighed, leaning back in his seat as he swirled the beer bottle in his hand.

“When we were kids, my Aunt Julia came over to visit us during christmas. Do you remember that?” He asked quietly, catching you off guard in a moment of vulnerability. You nodded your head, continuing to bite your lip. “She asked all of us- Me, you, Jack, and Luke ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’” Your eyes softened quickly, bringing your knees to your chest. “Do you remember what you said?” He asked, his tone empathetic.

“Yeah, a lawyer-”

“A mother.” He interrupted. The words hit you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You froze, staring at Quinn as the memories hit like a tidal wave.

“I…I don’t remember that.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn gave you a sad smile, his eyes softening. “You do. You just don’t want to.” He brought the bottle to his mouth, looking out at the lake again. The two of you sat in the thick silence. Quinn, knowing he was winning this conversation and you, overthinking every little moment from the past two years. Tears began to escape your eyes as you stared out at the lake, refusing to look at Quinn. He turned to you, seeing how hard this conversation was for you. He wanted to pull you into him, let you cry into his shoulder until all the pain went away, but that wasn’t his job anymore. It was Max’s. The pain burned deep into Quinn’s chest as he recalled every memory he shared with you at this house. Jumping off the boat together on hot summer days, neighborhood barbecues where you would wear those short little sundresses he liked so much, your first kiss while playing spin the bottle together, and of course every deep conversation you shared on this back deck, in these exact chairs. When he was thirteen, he was sure of the fact that he would marry you. He never expected to be sitting here, watching you fiddle with an engagement ring that he didn’t buy. 

You blinked, wiping the tears from your face as you decided to face your fear of confrontation. “I-If I don’t work hard now, I won’t have anything left when I'm old and burnt out.” Quinn’s jaw clenched as he processed your words, his gaze fixed on the lake but his mind clearly elsewhere. He tilted his head back slightly, exhaling through his nose like he was trying to suppress his frustration. Your lip trembled, more tears falling by the second as you looked away. 

“H-He um-” You paused, taking a long sigh as you looked over at Quinn. “He says there’s no time for children in our career.” Quinn whipped his head over to you, his expression softening as he got lost in your words. 

“He’s a piece of shit.” Quinn mumbled, shaking his head as he returned his gaze to the lake. 

You licked your lips as you rolled your eyes. “He’s not a piece of shit, okay? He’s a good guy, you just don’t know him.” You said, your tone growing in frustration. Quinn looked over to you, mouth open, brows furrowed as if you’d just said the most unbelievable thing. 

He huffed out a small laugh before returning his eyes to the bottle in his hand. “You’re fuckin’ delusional.” He let out quietly, taking another sip. You whipped your head to him, your frustration quickly bubbling over. 

“Excuse me-”

Quinn was quick to interrupt you, his voice raised slightly. “You heard me. You’re fucking delusional if you think that’s love.” He rolled his eyes, looking back at you. 

You scoffed, licking your bottom row of teeth as you let out an uncomfortable laugh. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” Your expression had become serious, your tears stopping in their tracks. “This is love!” Your voice carefully rose in volume. “I fell in love,” You laughed slightly, letting a slight smile escape your lips out of frustration. “You’re just jealous.” 

Quinn’s face turned bright red as he took in your words. He looked down at his lap, then back to you. He bit the inside of his cheek, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle before speaking. “Jealous?” He asked, brows furrowed. “My god, you're so full of yourself sometimes.” He didn’t mean that and he knew, but you didn’t. You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears as your best friend tore you apart. “You seriously think i’m jealous of him?” He asked, his voice just below a yell.

“No, of me!” Quinn froze, his beer bottle mid air as the words echoed between the two of you. “You’re jealous because I found love and-”

Quinn slammed the bottle on the wooden deck, the sharp sound making you flinch. “Don’t.” He snapped, his voice shaking with anger. “Don’t twist this into me being the bad guy for giving a shit about you.” 

“You don’t give a shit!” You shot back, standing up as your emotions boiled over. “You just can't stand the fact that i’m not following you around like a fucking puppy anymore!” Quinn stood too, his frame towering over you, but his expression wasn’t filled with intimidation. It was filled with raw, unfiltered pain. 

June 23rd, 2012

Dear diary, today was pretty good. In the morning, Jack and Luke jumped on my bed to wake me up which sucked, but when are they not annoying? Anyways, they dragged me down to the lake for a boat day. We went with their dad and their brother Quinn (my future husband). Jack and Luke were doing this wakeboard surfing thingy so I decided to stay close to Quinn. He’s just sooo perfect. His hair is amazing and he smells so good. I wanna be his girlfriend like literally so bad but I can’t tell if he likes me or not. He held my hand when we jumped in the water which was literally the best thing that has EVER happened to me. Anyways, that was the most important thing that happened today.

“What are you reading? You don’t read.” Jack’s piercing voice pulled Quinn straight from focus. He quickly turned around, shutting the book immediately.

“Nothing uh- just something for school.” He stammered out. Jack furrowed his brows, crossing his arms. 

“It’s summer.”

“Yeah, summer reading.” Only it wasn’t summer reading. It was your diary, something personal and private. Quinn was only reading it to find out where you hid the hockey puck you stole, but he stumbled upon a catalog of entries about himself. Do you expect a thirteen year old boy to not read it? 

“Okay well, dinner’s in five minutes.” Jack said before spinning on his heel to exit the room. You liked Quinn, like really liked him and now he knows it.

“You need to think about what you just said.” Quinn said, his voice low. “Think about that and then compare it to every time I talked you through your panic attacks, or every time I picked you up at three in the morning when we were sixteen because you were too drunk to drive home, or every time I offered you a place to stay when your parents were fighting. Then, you can tell me if you think I give a shit or not.” He stared you down, his eyes becoming tense as your bottom lip began to tremble. 

“I didn’t-”

Quinn huffed out his breath, interrupting your speech. “Do you know how hard it’s been to watch you? To see you become someone I don’t even recognize anymore?” His voice became stern, raising in volume. “You don’t smile the same way anymore. You don’t laugh like you used to!” Your breath hitched, the weight of his words suffocating. You looked down at the ring on your finger, the glittering diamond that once felt like a prize but now felt more like a shackle. “You think I don’t care?” His voice was quiet, but the pain in his voice was unmistakable. “I’ve always cared. A-And seeing you like this, wearing that ring, in this life that’s clearly eating you alive? It kills me.” 

You licked your bottom lip, tears spilling down your face as you looked up at him. You swallowed the lump in your throat, letting out a shaky breath as you gathered your thoughts.

“Hey, babe. You almost ready?” You heard Max’s voice shout from the living room as you finished putting your earrings on. 

“Yeah, just a second!” You yelled back, fluffing your freshly blown out hair in the mirror. You took a deep breath as you looked yourself up and down in the dark green bodycon dress that Quinn had gotten you for your 21st birthday. You’d never put it on, but you assumed it was fitting for a work Christmas party. Was it too much? You thought to yourself as you ran your hands down the sides, seeing that the length was about an inch above your fingertips. You decided it was fine and made your way out of the bedroom, purse in hand as you walked to the living room. Max sat on the couch in his tailored Prada suit, a bit pretentious to wear to a work party. His legs were spread wide as he had one hand on his phone, and the other on the back of the couch. He looked up from the screen to glance at you in your dress. You gave him a soft smile, your shoulders tensing up as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“It’s a bit short, don’t you think?” He asked as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. You looked down at your dress, then back up at him. 

“W-Well, I was thinking that a little. Should I change?” Your voice was shaky, filled with nerves at Max’s disapproval. 

He shook his head, standing from the couch with his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the door. “No, no. We're already gonna be late with how long you took to get ready.”

There were little moments like that that clouded your mind as you stood in front of Quinn. Your breathing was shaky, your face now fully engulfed in hot tears as he stared into your eyes. “You don’t get it.” You let out, your voice just barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to find stability. To feel…safe.” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. 

“Safe?” Quinn repeated, his eyes locking with yours. “Is that what this is? Because it doesn’t look like it. You’re not safe. You’re trapped.” He gestured to the ring on your finger, his voice lowering at the depressed sight of you. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You stared at him, your chest tightening as his words dug into the thoughts you’d been trying so hard to suppress. Quinn softened, stepping closer. “You deserve more than this.” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “And I think, deep down you know that.”

You bit your lip, sniffling your nose before wiping your tears with your sleeve. “I’m in too deep. I can’t get out.” You whispered, finally bringing yourself to the point to admit it. You weren’t happy, you knew that, but you couldn’t tell anyone. Well, you thought you couldn’t until Quinn finally pushed you to the point where there wasn’t another option. 

Quinn let out a sigh mixed with exhaustion and a hint of relief. He sent you an empathetic smile as he absentmindedly grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb against the back of it. “You can.” He said, his voice quiet. “You’re not alone. I’m here…if you need help. I’m always gonna be here.” Your breath caught in your throat as Quinn’s hand enveloped yours, his warmth cutting through the icy wall you’d built around yourself. His touch was steady, grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. His words echoed in your head, soft and firm. You stared down at his hand, the calluses on his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as his thumb moved in slow, soothing circles. It felt so familiar, so safe, and the contrast to Max’s cold indifference hit you like a wave. You couldn’t help but let all the emotions running like a swarm through your head push you to the point of breakage. You began to sob, your eyes still looking at your hands intertwined as your breath came out in short, stammered increments. Quinn didn’t waste any time before pulling you into his chest, allowing your sobs to escape into his shirt as he wrapped his arms around your body. He held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a shield against everything that had been weighing you down. His chin rested on top of your head as your tears soaked into his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in ages. 

“It’s okay,” He murmured softly into your hair. “I’ve got you.” You clung to him, your fists gripping the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would mean losing the only thing tethering you to solid ground. 

The room began to shrink in an instant, reading the text from your mother. “It’s final. Dad and I are separating. You and I are moving to Gran and Pop’s when you get back from the lake house, so I need you to pack up everything.” 

The tears came almost immediately, but that didn’t scare you. It was the feeling you got in your chest, like your heart was radiating pulses all over your body. Pounding over and over again, like the beating was the only thing you could hear. The sound of Quinn shooting pucks only made it worse, like each shot was another banging ache to your head. You tried to slow your breathing, but it felt like the most difficult challenge at that moment. Your breaths were short and hitched, gasping for air at any chance you got. Your hands shook as your phone fell out of them. You were terrified, you didn’t know what was happening. You couldn’t die, you were only sixteen. You still had so much to do in life. You tilted your head up, staring at the ceiling light, but that only made it worse. Quinn noticed when you didn’t say anything about the shot he’d just missed, immediately dropping his stick to run over to you.

“Hey, Hey. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He said frantically as he leaned down to where you were sitting on the floor. You tried to tell him, tried to speak, but your head was stuck looking up, and you felt like you couldn’t move it. Quinn placed his hand on the back of your neck, pulling your head down to face him. Your face was covered in tears, completely red as your mouth parted slightly. “Talk to me.” He said gently. “Please?”

You licked your quivering lips, trying your hardest to breathe. “I-I…I c-can’t. I can’t b-breathe.” His heart dropped at your words, the panic in your voice cutting through him like a knife. His hands moved to gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as more fell. 

“Okay, okay,” He said softly, his own voice trembling but steadying for your sake. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re not dying, I promise.” You gasped again, your breaths shallow and uneven, your chest tightening with each attempt. “Look at me.” He instructed. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He blew out softly, his eyes locked on yours as he repeated the motion.

You tried to mimic him, but your breath was quickly caught in your throat, sending you a fresh wave of panic. “I c-can’t Quinn, I can’t!” You cried.

“Yes, you can.” He reassured, his hands never leaving your face. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just take it slow.” You managed a small, shaky inhale, your body trembling as you followed his lead. “There you go.” He said, his voice laced with a small flicker of relief. “Now, out through your mouth.” Quinn stayed with you, guiding you through each breath as the pounding of the room began to dull. Finally, your breaths came easier, the crushing weight on your chest lifting little by little. You looked at Quinn, your face still wet with tears.

“Thank you.” You whispered, your voice hoarse.

His thumbs still traced circles on your cheeks as he sent you a soft smile. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

You stayed, sobbing into Quinn’s shirt as his grip around you tightened. He listened to your breathing patterns, looking out for a sign of a panic attack. He’d memorized you at this point. He knew the exact time to jump in, and he knew how to calm you down. 

“Quinn, I’m so scared.” You cried out, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer. 

Quinn moved his hand from your back to your head, running his fingers through your hair. “I know.” He whispered. “I’m sorry.” He leaned back just enough to gently tilt your chin up with his fingers, his blue eyes meeting yours. They were soft, but filled with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You thought you had to want this.” He said, speaking the words you never had the confidence to say. “Doesn’t mean it’s right. It doesn’t mean it’s what you deserve.” You looked up at him, not seeing Quinn Hughes, captain of the Canucks, but your childhood best friend, Quinny, who talked you through every panic attack, walked you home from every party, and gave you a bed through every fight between your parents. That’s what you deserved. Someone willing to give you that much dedication, not some pretentious lawyer who only loves you for your accomplishments. In a moment of determination, after wiping your tears, you dramatically pulled off your engagement ring, slamming it on the railing of the deck. The sound of the ring hitting the wooden railing echoed in the stillness of the night, sharp and final. Quinn’s eyes darted to it, then back to you, his lips parting in surprise. You stood there trembling, not from fear but from the sheer weight of the decision you’d just made. Your chest heaved as the tears continued to fall. This time they weren’t from sadness, they were from release. Quinn hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, his hand hovering over yours as if to silently ask for permission. When you didn’t pull away, he took your trembling hand in his, holding it like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

“You-” He started, his voice breaking slightly before he cleared his throat. “You did it.”

“I did it.” You whispered, almost in disbelief yourself. You stared at the ring, gleaming under the soft glow of the porch light. It had once symbolized everything you wanted, but now it felt like a chain you’d finally broken free from. 

[nipuni]

Nipuniiii!

Did you see the new drops for Dragon Age?! How are you feelinggggg

Hello, I did!! All the news caught me in the middle of a migraine episode that I'm just starting to recover from so I've been just watching and liking the posts I find but I'm excited!!

The game looks really good. The stylization and tonal shift of the first trailer was odd but it looks great in game honestly. It made me so nostalgic for Inquisition. Solas looks amazing and exactly how I was hoping he would!! The Tarot cards are back and all the companions look fantastic. Everyone looks so fun to draw which very important to me!! I love Emmrich already. I heard the character creator is very extensive and that you have to create your Inquisitor in it too and I like the implications of that. The prologue looks like it mirrors Inquisition's almost exactly. I'm already seeing parallels and symbolism everywhere I'm pulling out some red string and pins for my cork board as we speak.

The combat looks fluid enough, the environments have a lot of verticality and grandeur to them that I enjoy, the fashion is amazing, the offline and more linear playstyle sounds promising, the facial animations look terrible but the hair looks impressive. As for the story, it looks like it's going the way I hoped it would! The prologue had a lot of awkward overly expository dialogue but it's understandable given the circumstances I suppose. I know we were all expecting the Evanuris to be released and the Veil to fall in this game but it happening in the prologue took me by surprise lmao. Rook just immediately making everything worse five minutes into the game is so funny to me.

The scope of everything and the amount of locations and factions seems so ambitious. I have to wonder what really happened during production because at one point it really seemed like Bioware was going up in flames and half the team was fired and now people are talking about how amazing an experience this was and how it was the best team they have ever worked with and I'm so confused. I guess it's not long now until we find out.

The game looks bigger than ever, so I'm excited and a bit apprehensive. I'm hoping for the best and I look forward to it!! 🥰

[kingdoms-and-empires]

After Dark Review (Zombies!)

I recently had to go travel and read a few works that I never got around to reading but was interested in.

PLEASE REMEMBER THIS REVIEW IS DONE BY ME AS A READER AND IS MY OWN OPINION.

This means I will review in accordance to my own tastes, how the game caters to me, and what I feel. Do not take my word as gospel, what I may not be interested in or dislike, may be what YOU are interested and love!!!

@dalekowrites

Synopsis:

A few years from now, in Little Peak, Michigan, a teenager is ready to go to sleep.

While the heavy industry is more active than ever, the effects of global warming are evident, with higher temperatures, dying bees, and animals acting weird.

It has simply been another normal Wednesday, but little do people know that it’s the last day of normality Mother Nature has granted them.

After Dark is a scientifically accurate apocalyptic horror. You’re tired of zombies rising from the ground for no reason? You don’t believe in ghosts? Glittering vampires aren’t for you? Then you have to try one of the three different stories that unfold in After Dark.

When a global pandemic starts to transform people into dangerous monsters, which path will you choose? Will you fight for humanity? Will you stay for your family? Or will you run away in search of a better future?

Review:

The Good: Why does every IF Zombie game have the authors kill themselves in the coding department? This is in the good section, so it isnt a bad thing, though sometimes I worry for the sanity of the author lol. Anyways, After Dark is ambitious! Here are some of the things the author implemented:

Three different routes with three completely different stories. (1 is being worked on right now, the other two have not yet been implemented yet as far as I know)

A phone with a social network, gallery for the ROs, a newsletter, and a weather forecast app... of which you need to charge without it being annoying thankfully!

Characters remember what you talk about and will bring it up in future conversations, so you cant be two faced lol

A romance autonomy system that you can switch on that allows ROs to flirt with you!

Random encounters to encourage re-playability.

An inventory system.

A weather system, that can be prepped for using the weather app on your phone.

Hourly progression system, there are only a set amount of hours in a day that you can use to do things without affecting you.

Discoverable side stories.

A private journal that keeps track of stuff for you. Kinda Elder Scrolls coded and i jive with it haha

And crazy enough, there's more. The above sounds complicated and overwhelming, but it isnt for the reader somehow. The author was able to integrate all the above without it feeling intrusive or annoying.

As for the story itself, remember this is currently one route. The writing is well done, it isnt overly flowery or super descriptive to the point of walls of text. Instead it gets to the point effectively and without losing points.

It made me want to read more, and that is exactly what we readers look for as we scour the IF space for more stories.

ABBY

I really like Abby. She's the preggo lady you can find, and I love the humanity she brings to the story. She does some things thatll make you go:

All of the characters feel grounded and not tropey if that makes any sense. And the dynamics of the group can change with the MC's input, or lack of it.

And then food. Holy shit, the need for food actually felt immersive lmao, whenever id find a snack or something id snatch that mfer up

The Bad:

I would like more zombies. The characters, the narrative, and the plot works well. But I'm worried of being presented with more human on human conflict/drama instead of the undead, and to that I recommend the author to introduce more scenes where we can see the horror, eeriness, and sadness that such an apocalypses would induce. Make a scene where the player is being chased by the undead because of a fuck up, it can be MC's or one of the characters to create tension or drama and it can even make an RO moment occur. Or a scene where you can enter a school, or one of the FEMA camps and see the aftermath of an incident where the zombies break in or someone infected got in. Of course, the author is steadily updating, and what I just said may very will be in the cards of a future update! But I do think something involving the zombies should occur sooner than later, as the beginning scene with the parent and the chaos, horror, and tension of the scene still stayed with me, and i was hoping to reach those emotional heights again while playing!

The Ugly:

Other than a few gender variable errors of the ROs and the regular grammar mistakes found in any IF, the biggest issue i had was with presentation. I'd recommend the author to clean up the spacing between paragraphs in the future when they have time alongside the new update.

The Aftermath:

Zombie IFs just don't seem to miss. Almost all are able to land within the "good" category whenever one releases, and this has the potential to land right in the "Chef's Kiss" tier. I'd recommend this game to anyone craving a zombie IF, and im excited to see this develop more in the future! The characters are grounded, flawed but not annoyingly, and capable. The story is plausible, and the narrative makes sense. Honestly? I want more and I want it now!

[clydesavage-thefox147]

Calling all Prinxiety Shippers, this analysis is for you!💜❤️

So, I have had my eyes set on Virgil's Spotify Playlist for a while now. And a few songs have caught my attention that I'd like to talk about.

The one in particular that I will discuss here is "Sally's Song" covered by Amy Lee from Evanescence, originally by Catherine O-Hara. A classic song from the even more classic movie The Nightmare before Christmas. Now, it's understandable why Virgil would have this song on there. It's from one of his favorite movies, it's a designated emo staple with lines like "We can live like Jack and Sally if we want" in Blink-182's "I Miss You", and overall it's Tim Burton which he's shown interest in as well. But, I wonder why this song in particular. He could've picked "This is Halloween" or "Jack's Lament" but..he picks "Sally's Song"? This isn't the only time he's been affiliated with this song either. In the 2020 Holiday Show, Thomas covered it in reference to Virgil's celebration of the holidays.

It's been stated that the songs on each playlist are on there for a reason. Some songs on each are directed specifically at another Side. I think I know who's being directed at here from Virgil's POV. Think about it, Sally is very similar to that of Virgil. Both are restless and want freedom despite the risks, they are both caution and concerned for others especially those they love, and just their overall aesthetics aline with a stitch work-ragdoll like appearance. The song in question is about Sally showing her concern for Jack. It briefly touches on her need for freedom and inclusion, but it's mostly about her love and consideration for Jack. Hell, she sang it right after Jack took off on his Christmas exploits that she knew would fail and tried to warn him. She thinks the love is one-sided, she gives up in believing it'll happen. However, it was reprised in the end with both of them admitting their love for each other.

Who is Jack in this situation? You could say Jack is a bit like Virgil in wanting to move away from scaring people all the time..but Jack's demeanor and personality isn't very Virgil like. He's ambitious, overly I might add. He's desperate, he's dedicated, he suffered an identity crisis, he's associated with royal standing as the Pumpkin King, and his voice is rather regal. Who does that sound like to you? Roman.

Sally's concern for Jack's actions failing or getting him hurt ties in with Virgil's behavior as anxiety. One major thing is concern for Roman being too forceful in his desperation for a boyfriend for Thomas could've got him rejected or hurt. This was shown in FWSA..the same episode where a sticker of Jack and Sally peaked both of their interest. They both have shown a love for this movie, so much so that Roman wanted Virgil's posters of it back in Accepting Anxiety part 2.

Sure, you could say that this could be directed at Nico but Virgil's playlist was debut in April of 2020, FWSA wasn't released until October. Sure, it could have been foreshadowing but I highly doubt it since the song itself shows that the person the narrator wanted in question, was already known to them and their concern for them was justified. You could say it's directed at Thomas, but this song is too romantic in its undertones to be that, even if it said "friend" in the lyrics...Roman called Virgil "Friendo" (so did Janus as Patton but that's besides the point).With lines like "What will become of my dear friend, where will his actions lead us then" could be reference to how Roman's overambitious behavior and reckless actions could be a problem. Stating a question Virgil was asked back in 2018 at live Vidcon QnA, Virgil did say he liked Roman's ambition..but wasn't sure he wanted that in his life. Maybe he's willing to take the chance now?

So, it's fair to say that "Sally's Song" is directed at Roman. They both are carbon copies of the characters, they both love the film, and the overall hints of this song and film in regards to them are too obvious to miss. ❤️💜

Seems like Virgil wants to live like Jack and Sally with Roman. 💜❤️

P.S: we so need an official Virgil cover of Sally's Song..like come on 😁

[fuckyeahaudiodrama]

🪸 JULY LISTENS 🪸

(ft. some lovely coral for those of us caught up on The Magnus Protocol😌)

this month, i’ve been working through some of the stuff that’s been languishing on my listen list for approximately a million years as well as revisiting some old favorites. here’s what i enjoyed most in my earholes:

G.O.B.L.I.N.S — (pilot, crowdfunding now!) for fans of Stellar Firma, the Meredith brothers have reunited with some other familiar voices to spin a story about an overly ambitious human office worker who gets dragged through the veil into the fae realm by a pair of chaotic goblins. the show is scripted but it’s marked by the same sense of humor that has characterized the Meredith’s other improvised works. 8 episodes projected if it funds.

Larkspur Underground — (11 eps, complete?) a fictional exposé about the sole survivor of a serial killer’s disturbing abduction and grooming. i was giddy to discover this one as an ardent fan of Showtime’s Dexter. it’s gory and glorious, and if you’re keen you might spot some clues; if not, the final episode is going to shock you. creator wants to make more, but it’s been a few years so who knows.

I Found A Wormhole — (5 eps, complete) a short yet existentially harrowing series. exactly what it says on the tin. mind the content warnings on the final episode but by the time you get there you’ll definitely know what’s coming tbh.

The Grotto — (10 eps, ongoing) a pull-no-punches exploration of messy grief with a supernatural twist. season two is here! this series has an absolutely killer soundtrack and immersive sound design. it has such a unique vibe. you’ll definitely like it if you like WOE.BEGONE.

Dear Bastard! — (16 eps, complete?) an epistolary comedy about a bunch of squabbling neighbors. i like to use this show as a palate cleanser when i’ve been listening to a lot of gruesome horror, because it’s just so light and fun.

Deviant — (10 eps, complete) a space pirate dramedy! i stumbled across this purely by accident and did a little binge. i love an absolute mess of a protagonist, so this was right up my alley. it’s a little abrasive at times but overall i enjoyed the narrative and it wrapped up nicely.

Murphy — (6 eps, s2 in production) a folkloric monster-of-the-week mystery with very charming characters. the first season is complete and although it is short, the episodes are long and make great use of their runtime. pleased to see their recent crowdfunder has been successful so there will be more!

Ghost Wax — (45+ eps, hiatus) a horror anthology facilitated by a “reclaimer” who can extract the final statements of the dead. this is similar to How i Died but the lore feels much more fantastically intricate. i don’t want to spoil too much of the meta plot but there’s a LOT going on, and i’m looking forward to s2.

Fulmar’s Folly — (12 eps, ongoing?) people on reddit love this series so i decided to give it a spin. fans of zombie survival like We’re Alive are most likely to eat this up. it can be a little overwrought at times, but the constant tension feels genuine in context. episodes are quite long but the length feels satisfying and necessary.

Nowhere, On Air — (46 eps, ongoing) another spooky small town radio show about a girl in a world she doesn’t belong to. this is one of my favorite genres of AD. fans of WTNV, King Falls AM, Tiny Terrors, and other shows of that ilk will probably enjoy this. it leans a little more surreal and introspective than comedic. IMHO, the host also just has a lovely voice. the meta plot is currently really hitting its stride.

All In My Head — (19 eps, ???) night terrors turn out to be something much more sinister. so intriguing, i was devastated to realize it may have been abandoned. i’m not going to completely give up hope for a final season though!

Zoinks! — (11 eps, complete?) a darkly comedic homage to scooby doo and other childrens detective fiction. i loved the way the narrative approached the subject of child neglect, while still maintaining a thread of silliness that saved it from complete bleakness. s2 has been mentioned but it’s projected release date has come and gone without a word, so it may or may not happen.

Trice Forgotten — (10 eps, ???) an aspiring cartographer gets accidentally mixed up with some pirates. i relistened to this series in honor of its anniversary and was just blown away by the sound design all over again. the setting is made so rich and alive by the effort put in by the production staff! and the character dynamics are so intricate and gorgeous. i am especially a fan of the tension between alestes and gammon. beautiful first season with SO much left to explore, i really hope to see this come back for a s2 someday.

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 4.4 - Dating for Weirdos

ALICE

After dinner, they wander into the record store next to Annie Jo’s. Alice doesn’t mean to confess her every sin while some chick in a flower crown browses records, and Vlad stares at her like she’s from another planet, but it happens.  

“I have a temper,” she says, “Just so you know the true me. And I don’t have good follow-through. I promise things, but my brain is like Swiss cheese. I get bored really fast, and I’m overly ambitious.”

She means to keep things light, to make her absolute hot-messness into a joke, but in her rush to address Vlad’s silent stare, what pours out of her mouth is more akin to a holy unburdening—

—Everything about herself that she thinks is wrong, every deviation and odd habit. 

And the worst part is that Jeffery’s snide tone is narrating it inside her head. 

Why? Why did she say those things? This is not the real her. The real Alice has a good sense of humor! The real Alice can get through an evening without trashing herself! 

“So, amongst the other things you named,” Vlad begins, speaking slowly as if he can’t believe how fucking crazy she is. “You want me to know that you’re not a hoarder or a thief, but you do like shiny things and saucy toys, and so you keep any items you come across hidden in a hollowed-out book along with your vibrator like some sort of sex-addled magpie.”

Behind him, the woman in the flower crown winces. 

“I’m pretty sure I just said sex magpie,” Alice argues weakly.

Vlad nods. “You’re right. The ‘addled’ part was my own narrative flourish. Specificity is important.”

“I’m sorry,” she croaks. “You can go if you want.”

“Go where?” 

“Away from this date. I told you I was chill, but I made it weird, and if you couldn’t already guess, I’m a total fucking shitshow.”

Vlad pauses and then walks back to the record table and leans on it, beckoning her closer. “Ask me a question.”

Behind him, the chick in the flower crown inches towards the door. 

Alice pins her with a glare. She doesn’t get to end her eavesdropping before Vlad shares his own dark, embarrassing secrets. And if he wants to be that close while he does it, then so be it. Satisfied that she won’t make a run for it, Alice focuses on him. “Do you hide your sex toys?”

“No. My preference is to masturbate after a long bath with a copy of A History of the War of Willow Creek and Untamed Treachery of the Heart.” 

“Excuse me, what?” Alice laughs, forgetting her earlier outburst, “A history book about a war can’t possibly be good jerk-off material.”

“General Payne won the battle. It was a violent and prolonged campaign. It puts me in a good mood.”

Alice is cackling so hard she can’t breathe. “What about Wands of Desire? Or The Wolf Next Door?”

“Nowhere near enough murder to get me off.”

He is completely unhinged. It’s an insane answer. It takes Alice a full five minutes to calm down. 

“I’m laughing with the true you, not at you,” she assures him.

“You’re laughing,” he replies, stepping closer to her, “And while you included it on your list of faults, I like the sound of it.”

The butterflies flutter. He’s giving her that look again. For a second, she worries he’ll try to touch her, and she’ll have to suppress her flinch or else explain why sometimes, even after a whole year, it still happens.

But he doesn’t. He just watches her, drinking her in like his thirst is quenched simply by looking. 

“I should warn you upfront that my murder count is very low. Technically zero,” she replies, her voice breathless.

“For you, I would make an exception.” His gaze flicks to her lips, “And don’t worry, Magpie. I like the true you, too.”

PREV | NEXT

(Part 4 of 4)

[writers-potion]

Writing the "Mean Girl" Character

How do we write the "mean girl" without making her another shallow copy of the brainless, pink-clad, cheerleader we see in high teen dramas?

Of course, there's nothing wrong with such a character if you want them to be funny/light in the first place.

However, I can hear myself slowly losing my last two brain cells when I keep reading about such papercut characters for more than an hour - reading clearly requires more effort than watching a class B movie, so I always appreciate when authors put more effort to make the characters dynamic.

No "Mean for the Sake of Being Mean

The classic way to avoid this is to give them a sad backstory. They used to be overweight/ugly and were bullied, or their parents don't care about them enough, or they are too insecure. Obviously these plot points are quiet stale now, but the basic principle still stands - if your charcter is mean, she needs A REASON.

I love reading about a mean character's backstory then feeling, "actually, I would have felt like doing that, too."

Whatever their motivations may be, remember that bullies pick on the weak, not the successful/powerful. While the Mean Girl might feel jealous/inferior towards the protagonist, I hardly think that should be the sole reason why they picked their victim. There must be a flaw in your protagonist that happened to be something that the Mean Girl knows how to exploit, which makes them a target above others.

Give Them A Twist

There are two ways that I can think of: (1) A seemingly nice character is in fact a mean girlie, or (2) A mean character turns out to be kind and well-intended.

Personally, I love Mean Girls who are intelligent/ know what they are doing. They are purposely manipulative:"are you okay?" as if the victim has something wrong with them or providing "constructive" criticism. Or kindly inviting them to a party that she knows they wouldn't fit in.

The conflict deepens when everyone else likes the Mean Girl due to her manipulative nature, making the protagonist doubt themselves.

A Purpose beyond Providing Conflict

Think about what the mean girl aims to gain from bullying your protagonist.

Is she continuously trying to prove herself "superior" so that she can feel better inside? Is she an academic rival who just needs to be the first in everything, even is that means reverting to questionable behavior?

Overly ambitious/perfectionist characters can come off as mean when they feel like others fail to live up to their standards (which only they know about, and are usually up in the sky)

Give Them A Proper Redemption

If you plan on giving her a redemption arc, make sure that she has earned it! The worst thing you can do is make it sound like you approve of the horrible things she has done.

this transition doesn’t mean the character does a complete 180 and is suddenly all smiles and good favors. They can fall back on their old ways of thinking, but is trying to make an effort to step out of their old clothes.

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If you like my blog, buy me a coffee! ☕

Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

References:

https://writingquestionsanswered.tumblr.com/post/668302340882857984/how-would-you-write-a-mean-girl-character-without

https://www.writingforums.org/threads/how-to-write-the-mean-girl-character.160729/

[rems-writing]

The prettiest Slytherin

Pairing: Slytherin!Seonghwa × Hufflepuff!oc

Summary: Park Seonghwa is considered untouchable. However, one person can make him fall to his knees. And boy will he do anything for his one and only darling

Warning(s): An oc (original character) named Ajax, simp!Seonghwa (he's so down bad lol), stereotyping (when it comes to the Hogwarts houses lol)

Genre: Fluff with sprinkles of spice and suggestive themes

Nets: @blossomnet @mirohs-aurora-society

Thank you to @bunnliix for helping me decide which name I should pick for my oc

Slytherins are known for being cunning, ambitious, and straight up rude while Hufflepuffs are known to be humble, hardworking, and willing to compromise in order to avoid conflict.

The one thing these houses share in common however? Loyalty.

Park Seonghwa carried the traits of a Slytherin. Minus the rudeness. He was known by many things. Handsome, beautiful, perfect, funny, and kind. The one thing he is however, according to most of the students, including his fellow Slytherin peers?

Untouchable.

Many women wanted him while many men wanted to be him. Hence, the occasional jealous look every time he walked across the hallways to either a class or the grand hall for a simple meal.

Today was just another day for Seonghwa. As he made his way to his next class, he was stopped by his little group of fangirls.

They called themselves shinestars since his name translates to "To be a star" and his name backwards means Mars.

As he gave them his award-winning smile and used his charismatic charm on the already swooning girls, one of them approached him with a bit of fear in her eyes.

"Um... Seonghwa, you need to watch out."

"For what, babe?"

The girl melted before she regained her composure. He had a way with words.

"Apparently, we have a new Hufflepuff student. And before you can assume..."

She looked around to see if that student was listening. When she made sure the coast was clear, she leaned in to whisper softly.

"He's not your average Hufflepuff. In fact... he's probably the scariest one."

The other girls agreed while Seonghwa grew curious.

"Who is this 'scary' Hufflepuff if I may ask?"

All the girls quickly shushed him and tried to move on from this supposed touchy subject. He was slightly annoyed since his interest was piqued. However, he let the girls fawn over him before he made his way to his all-time favorite class.

Astrology.

He sat down in his usual seat and read his textbook, occasionally stopping to say hi to his fellow classmates. As he read his textbook and prepared for class, he felt a presence beside him.

"Ayo. Is this seat taken?"

An American accent. With a deep voice. Seonghwa looked up to see who spoke.

His knees buckled even though he was seated.

Black hair swept back, cold eyes, a clenched jaw, and hands that carried way too much. There were textbooks, notebooks, and his wand in both palms. Afraid his patience was growing thin, Seonghwa quickly spoke, although his voice cracked.

"Of course! You may sit here."

Seonghwa shut his mouth and cringed at the way he sounded overly excited. Luckily, the guy nodded firmly and sat next to him. Seonghwa peeked over at which house he was in and his throat went dry.

The Hufflepuff crest was on his robe. And there was yellow on the inside of his black robe.

This was the 'scary' Hufflepuff the girls were talking about earlier.

But he didn't seem scary.

"Um... so the accent. Are you... from America?"

The guy nodded and Seonghwa took a mental note of that before continuing to speak with him.

"I assume you transferred from Ilvermorny?"

"You could say that. But to put it lightly, I got kicked out of there. For what? I don't fucking know."

The bluntness and abrasiveness of the man's tone caught Seonghwa off guard but the Slytherin found himself being intrigued by him even more.

"I'm sorry that you were unjustly kicked out of there. But allow me to welcome you into Hogwarts."

Seonghwa mustered up his best smile and stuck out his hand. The guy slowly turned to him and shook his hand. Seonghwa almost melted under his touch.

"My name is Park Seonghwa, head boy of Slytherin!" He used his usual introduction but unlike the other first encounters with new students, his hand became clammy the longer it stayed in the guy's hand.

"I'm Ajax."

The man, now known as Ajax, introduced himself shortly and Seonghwa nodded before letting go of his hand quickly.

"Sorry! My hand is a bit sweaty. I don't know why. Maybe it's hot in here. Heh heh!"

Ajax quirked an eyebrow at Seonghwa as he saw the young boy wipe his palm on his robe.

"It's fine."

That was the last thing he said before turning to his textbook. Seonghwa could've sworn he heard Ajax mumble under his breath as the Slytherin fumbled to open his notebook.

Did the 'scary' Hufflepuff call him cute?

---------------------------------------------------

"Ooh! Seonghwa is down bad~"

His friends laughed at and teased him while Seonghwa rolled his eyes and tried to calm his blushing face down.

"Quit it, Wooyoung!"

The loud Hufflepuff giggled and kept eating.

Seonghwa had seven other friends. There was Hongjoong and Mingi from Ravenclaw, San and Jongho from Gryffindor, and Yunho, Yeosang, and Wooyoung from Hufflepuff.

"What? Woo's just stating the obvious, Hwa." Yeosang teased him and Seonghwa groaned dramatically as he sipped on his drink.

Wooyoung's teasing was bad. When Yeosang joined, it was pure chaos. And he's usually the calmer Hufflepuff.

"I have dated both men and women, but never have I felt this way about anyone until he came along." Seonghwa ranted as Hongjoong patted his back.

"Perhaps this could be the one for you. Why not ask him out?"

"Joong, be serious. Hwa can't do anything without that gaggle of girls breathing down his neck." Mingi said bluntly and Hwa sadly agreed.

"They'll most likely push Hwa away from him."

"MINGI!"

"What?! You know I'm right!"

Indeed he was.

Every time Seonghwa tried to approach Ajax, his fangirls would whisk him away. They think they're protecting him but really, they're annoying him. And even if Seonghwa was able to approach Ajax, Ajax would simply roll his eyes and say something horrible like 'Go back to ya lil fangirls' or 'Don't be caught with me unless you want to be unpopular or whatever' before walking away.

Seonghwa knew Ajax didn't mean anything by it yet it still hurt.

He was starting to hate his reputation as the untouchable Slytherin.

"Oop! Look out, Hwa. Here he comes~" San teased him and Seonghwa immediately looked up. His heart began racing upon seeing the sight of him.

His hair was tousled, his robe was open and revealed a white tank top and black slacks, and his eyes were sharp as he hurried over to... wherever he was going.

Before he had the chance to say anything, Yeosang spoke up.

"YO! AJAX! OVER HERE!"

Ajax stopped and saw his fellow Hufflepuff peer waving over at him before sighing and walking over to where Yeosang was.

Imagine his surprise when he sees Seonghwa staring at him with wide eyes and an almost red face. As he sat next to Yunho, he nodded over to Seonghwa, who was nudged by Jongho so the Slytherin can face him.

"You friends with these guys?"

Seonghwa nodded nervously, waiting for another unintentional insult. His heart raced even faster when he saw Ajax smiling slightly.

"That's cool. I hope you don't mind if I spend the rest of my break with you guys."

"That's totally fine!"

Everyone laughed at Seonghwa's excited outburst while Ajax's smile never left his face.

The lunch break still went on and over the course of it, Ajax sat closer to Seonghwa. Seonghwa was a bundle of nerves as he got flustered over everything. From reaching over him to grab something from one of his friends to accidentally brushing against his shoulder to reach for his bag that was behind him.

The nerves got worse when Ajax leaned in to whisper in Seonghwa's ear.

"Meet me outside the dorms and in one of the hidden rooms after everyone goes to bed. We need to talk."

TALK?!

WHAT THE FUCK DID THIS INSANELY HOT MAN WANT TO TALK ABOUT?!

"Um... ok." Seonghwa agreed quietly and Ajax smirking before continuing to speak with the rest of the guys.

---------------------------------------------------

Seonghwa fidgeted nervously as he paced back and forth in the hidden room Ajax informed him about later that night.

What did he want to talk about?

Did he find out about his crush on him?

Just what was going on.

A pair of hands landed on his waist and he was pulled back into a broad chest. A pair of lips ghosted over his ear.

"Hey."

Seonghwa turned around and sighed dreamily upon seeing his boyfriend in the moonlight.

"We don't have to pretend. We're alone now. Come here."

Ajax brought Seonghwa into a warm hug as he spoke softly, which was uncharacteristic of him. Seonghwa gladly returned the hug and looked up at him with big boba eyes.

"I know you didn't mean what you said earlier, but it still hurts."

"I know, mon chère. I know. It's hard to say those things every time I look at you. Those stupid fangirls of yours are relentless! They already painted me as a bad guy and I've been here for a week."

Ajax connected his forehead with Seonghwa's and he sighed shakily.

"I wish we didn't have to hide ourselves. I hate being called untouchable. I hate my reputation. I just want to love you openly!" Seonghwa was upset as he ranted and he swore he felt himself about to cry.

Ajax sighed and brought Seonghwa into a tender and passionate kiss. It was full of love and desperation. Ajax grabbed under Seonghwa's thighs and lifted him so he could wrap his long legs around his waist. As Ajax laid Seonghwa down on the bed, both men thought back to how they first met whilst they slowly undressed each other.

---------------------------------------------------

THREE MONTHS AGO

Seonghwa was waiting for his date to arrive. It had been a while since he last went on a date, let alone a blind one. He was so busy with finals that he forgot that he had a life to live. With the help of his friends, he was dressed in a pristine black three-piece suit with chrome silver jewelry everywhere, ranging from the rings on his delicate fingers to the earrings that Hongjoong made for him.

It had been 30 minutes since Seonghwa arrived at the restaurant and as his patience grew thin, his hope was slowly dying. As he brought out his phone to play games, he felt a presence loom in front of him as they sat across from the table he was seated at.

On the table was Seonghwa's birth flower.

A small bouquet of daises.

"I'm sorry I'm late. Traffic was bad and I had to retrieve my motorcycle from the shop."

A woman's voice wasn't supposed to sound deep...

Seonghwa looked up and he swore it was love at first sight when he saw this god-like man stand in front of him.

Black hair that was swept back, soft brown eyes, and the kindest smile that would make anyone fall in love.

"Oh! I-It's no problem. I'm just glad you m-made it."

Seonghwa cringed at the way he stuttered and the man laughed slightly.

'Oh God... even his laugh is dreamy. Stop it, Hwa!'

Seonghwa practically drooled when the man took off his leather jacket, leaving him in a black dressed shirt that had the sleeves folded up to reveal muscular forearms.

One of them had a half sleeve.

Seonghwa didn't mean to stare at the intricacy of the inked art for too long but apparently, he did since the man decided to tease him.

"What? Got a thing for tats or something?"

Seonghwa blushed and looked away in embarrassment. It was already bad enough that he was caught.

The man would, for sure, freak out if he ever caught a glimpse of the boner that Seonghwa shamefully tried to readjust under the table.

"Well... I certainly do now."

The man laughed and stuck his hand out.

"I'm Ajax. Nice to meet you."

Seonghwa will definitely remember that name for as long as he shall live.

---------------------------------------------------

PRESENT TIME

Ajax was sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he carded his fingers through his hair. He was deep in thought about everything when he felt slender arms wrap around his shoulders and a pair of plush lips kiss his nape softly.

The same plush lips that screamed his name over and over as they were tangled in the sheets.

"Everything ok, J?"

Ajax's heart fluttered in his chest at the nickname Seonghwa gave him. He sighed and turned around to face his boyfriend before caressing his face.

"Yeah I'm ok. I'm just... lost in thought."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Everything. I don't want to pressure you into revealing our relationship, but at the same time, I don't want you hanging around those girls and allowing them to push me away!"

"I don't do that though -"

"You know what I mean, Hwa."

Seonghwa sighed and brought Ajax back to bed before straddling him and kissing him deeply. As he pulled away, he was satisfied with the way Ajax's lips were swollen from the heated kisses they shared together.

"After this week passes, I will make sure to tell everyone, including my stupid fan club in the Slytherin house, that I am taken. I am so in love with you, Ajax. I will not let this go on any longer. If anyone has a problem with it, too bad. Because you are mine. And I am yours."

Ajax saw the fire and determination in Seonghwa's eyes and smirked before leaning in to kiss along the side of Seonghwa's slender neck. The man moaned loudly as he felt his boyfriend leave hickies on the smooth skin. He retracted his head and smirked before pulling out his wand and waving it over his tatted forearm to reveal the one sign that is an indication of his love for him.

A tattoo with his initials.

Decked out in black and green ink, Seonghwa traced that tat with his fingertips.

PSH

Seonghwa felt tears come to his eyes and Ajax noticed his trembling form before he brought him into a hug.

"They say you're untouchable. Well... wait until you see their reaction when they realize that this 'scary' Hufflepuff bagged the prettiest Slytherin in all of Hogwarts." Ajax stated proudly.

"We'll show them, my darling. We'll show them." Seonghwa stated proudly before he fell back into the arms of his beloved Hufflepuff.

[drarryglobesficrecs]

Hogwarts Eight Year- drarry fic recs(under 50k)

Pt. 1

To Hurt and Heal by cassisluna(21k)

They say that everybody who gets out of Azkaban comes out a little mad. After the war, Draco Malfoy spends three months in Azkaban. He just wants to go insane in peace, but Harry Potter finds that he, inexplicably, still can't leave Draco alone.

Potterella by VivacissimoVoce(22k)

Harry’s friends want him to find true love. But when a spell that promises happy endings goes out of control, fairy tales come to life and Draco becomes Harry’s Prince Not-So-Charming.

Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There by magpie_fngrl(17k)

Draco discovers the Mirror of Erised is a portal and he enters an alternate reality where your deepest desires come true. Or how Draco found himself in the world of his dreams and Potter had to come and ruin it.

Instruction For A Misplaced Slytherin by bixgirl1(8k)

Potter stared at him with an intense, indecipherable expression. He cleared his throat. “You know what? It would be easier to learn if you just showed me,” he said abruptly. In which Draco has a crush but fancies himself kind, Harry is oblivious but overly ambitious (and the teensiest bit sneaky), and things get dirty really fast.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch(43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

The Heart's Honest Truth by bixgirl1, carpemermaid(16k)

“Don’t you think I would have gone to Pomfrey if I thought she could help me?”

“Then what can I do?”

“I nee—” Malfoy broke off with a soft grunt and a pained expression. He took a shaky breath and tried again, his voice wobbling. “Will you touch me, Potter?"

Draco is cursed to speak in questions. Well...Spelled, thanks to the stupidly improper archival practices of the fourth century. Harry Potter is there to save the day, but Draco isn’t going to give in to his help so easily. Fortunately, the method of saving might be more satisfactory than Draco expected this time.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by DorthyAnn(5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

Said and Unsaid (or, The Value of Knowing When to Stop Talking) by bryoneybrynn(14k)

When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain by Faith Wood (faithwood)(21k)

It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

The Difference Between Dust And Soup (Is You) by gnarf(17k)

When Harry returned for his eighth year at Hogwarts he had high hopes that he'd have a normal and quiet year for once—he had earned it after all!

But when he found Malfoy starving and unconscious in the Astronomy Tower one night, it all started over again. He had to figure out what happened to him.

After Harry started to cook for Malfoy, and while sharing their secret dinner night after night, he couldn't help but wonder if there was a possibility of them becoming more.

In Evidence of Magical Theory by bixgirl1(43k)

When a hex meant for Draco accidentally catches Harry as well, they're forced to learn to understand each other in ways they previously might have thought impossible.

In which Harry and Draco can't fight, so they fall in love instead.

The Owl Who Came for Christmas by dracogotgame(17k)

Draco has a debt to pay off, no matter what Potter thinks. And he has a Very Good Idea to go along with it. Things don't go as planned.

The Standard You Walk Past by bafflinghaze(46k)

On returning to Hogwarts for their Eighth Year, Headmistress McGonagall decided to room Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter together. She may have hoped for a leading example of house unity; the other students fully expected insults and fights. But nothing happened.

That was, until Harry sleepwalked into Draco’s bed.

Dear Diary by AWickedMemory (TeddyLaCroix)(21k)

// This can’t possibly go worse than the last time I kept a diary. //

After the war, Harry picks up a journal to write in… and it writes back. Luckily, it’s not a Horcrux on the other end this time.

Strange Bathfellows by bixgirl1(27k)

It started with a bath. Or a potions accident. Or maybe it started before that, but who can tell anymore.

Featuring: Uncomfortable wanking, more comfortable wanking, mutual wanking, bath sharing, inappropriate betting, secret shagging, those secrets at Hogwarts that everyone knows, and oblivious Harry who knows one thing: he's falling in love.

Storm in a Teacup by Faith Wood (faithwood)(7k)

For reasons he'd rather not think about, Draco is obsessed with Potter's hair. This cannot end well.

Smoke and Sweets by BiscuitBrunch(21k)

Draco spends his eighth year at Hogwarts under a study contract, working the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey.

He should have foreseen how often that meant bumping into Harry Potter.

(In which a touch-starved Draco has a praise kink that Harry is delighted to indulge.)

Hey, Potter by SunseticMonster(16k)

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 8th year, determined not to let Malfoy get to him. But when the snarky teasing starts up again, Harry finds that returning the jibes with compliments has a far more interesting outcome.

Good Company by Greenflares(8k)

With Hermione and Ron always together, Harry's return to Hogwarts to complete his education isn't exactly fun. Somehow, it's his unlikely friendship with Malfoy that keeps him sane.

Drop Everything Now by parkkate(21k)

After accidentally bonding himself to Malfoy, Harry finds himself in an utterly precarious situation...

Lumos by birdsofshore(41k)

Harry never expected to spend eighth year listening to Draco Malfoy wanking.

Cracked by epsilonargus(46k)

"Loving Harry Potter would be a messy thing and Draco knew he wasn’t much of a whole person himself, but Merlin, he wanted to love Harry Potter." An Eighth Year fic, wherein Draco is a delusional mess and Harry is always trying to save him.

Flower War by XxTheDarkLordxX(8k)

“So, I was thinking—” Neville cut off, causing Harry to peer up curiously. Neville’s eyes were narrowed on the flower, small frown marring his features. “Oh, how rude.”

“What’s rude? It’s just a flower. Strange, since Malfoy sent it to me. Do you think he was cursed? I mean, it’s not like him to be nice.”

Neville snorted, mouth twitching rapidly. “No, it’s not,” He agreed readily. “Malfoy sending this makes perfect sense though. The flower means, Beauty is your only attraction."-

Or... the one where Harry and Draco have a flower war. Their tamest fight yet to date as they trade silent insults, cutting barbs and even a few compliments sprinkled in.

the in-betweens by derekmaliknurse(42k)

A tale of inter-house unity, Dirty Dancing, the various charms of certain Gryffindors and the Slytherins who fall for them, and Celestina Warbeck, in which Harry James Potter shares a room with one Draco Malfoy and despite seven years of past seething hatred, has the time of his life.

Dragons Don't Talk by RamaThorn(15k)

In which Harry can't talk, Hermione soon will have a nervous breakdown, Ron's just confused and Draco has some illwishers (and talks a lot).

Dreaming of Harry by Writcraft(18k)

The first night Draco Malfoy dreams of Harry Potter, everything changes.

Sod Off Potter. by Bellad0nna(34k)

When Harry wakes up to a strange voice invading his head he feels as if he should be far more surprised and concerned than he actually is. Although it's to be expected at this point, after all there is always 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 wrong and it almost always involves Malfoy.

Or that one where Draco and Harry find themselves connected through some kind of ancient legilimency bond and decide to work together to figure it out. Love ensues.

The Smile by bixgirl1(1k)

Harry smiles at Malfoy, Malfoy smiles back, and Ron is surely rolling his eyes in the background somewhere.

Nice Things by aideomai(22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Hungry by birdsofshore(24k)

The first thing Harry knew about it was when he woke up lying on a bed in the hospital wing, with his arm firmly stuck to the scrawny, milk-white arm of Draco bloody Malfoy.

Show Me by loveglowsinthedark(7k)

“We can be friends, if you like,” he says instead, nonchalant and careless.

“What I’d like,” Potter says seriously, “is to kiss you.”

Draco feels his jaw drop, feels the way his hair tumbles into his eyes when he whips around to stare at Potter. “What?” he breathes.

“I think I’d like to kiss you,” Potter repeats sombrely, no hint of mirth evident.

“You think?” Draco says steadily, proud of himself for holding himself together.

Potter’s eyebrows slide up briefly but then Draco can��t think or act or speak or breathe because Potter is leaning in and cupping his cheek gently. “I know,” Potter says simply, and kisses Draco.

[ciar-galyna]

I don’t like uninvited guests…do I need to play exterminator?

}{ Gabrielle has arrived to the Ghost Groom Event!! }{

~~~~~

Voicelines :

🦋 Groovification : Come and burn little ghosts.

👻 Set Home Screen : This was all caused by Grim? Oh he is so getting an earful when this is all over.

🦋 Home Idle 1 : Would it be wise to keep Tractatori at bay? Probably...they're not that hungry anyways.

👻 Home Idle 2 : Marrying a ghost..I wonder what that would be like. I imagine you'd need to be dead for it to work though. If that is the case, we need to save Sophie ASAP.

🦋 Home Idle 3 : I'm not sure how much I like Yeray's plan of swapping places with Sophie...I'll help her however I can, but I don't know if that would solve the problem.

👻 Home, after Login : You know..we could probably just solve this by inviting Malleus and giving him the rundown of the situation, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help Sophie. Or we get something that can banish ghosts. Either works.

🦋 Home Idle/Groovy : Once everything is finished and dealt with, I will be drowning myself in hot chocolate and taking a day or two to recharge and recover. Crowley can choke on a cactus if he complains to me.

👻 Home Tap 1 : I think I would appreciate this dress more if I wasn't snagged by some crabby maid ghost, insulted, and then forced to wear this instead. "Unsuitable attire" my butt. My dorm outift fit the theme..roughly.

🦋 Home Tap 2 : I think I saw a wedding cake. Can ghosts even eat food?

👻 Home Tap 3 : Why is it when something happens Ramshackle is always involved?

🦋 Home Tap 4 : I might not like the circumstances, but at least the decorations are nice…I don’t have to clean up all of it, do I? Please no, I really don’t have the patience for that this time.

👻 Home Tap 5 : I sometimes wonder if Soren has it easier at the RSA. He doesn’t seem to have an overly exciting life there..*sigh* I like adventures, but this is getting draining. I’d ask if he wants to swap places, but I think it’s a little late for that.

🦋 Home Tap/Groovy : What an interesting turn of events...

👻 Duo Magic : Shall we end this?

~~~~~

Random Bonus Notes! (A.K.A : my ramblings in point form, you don't have to read this.)

I used a wheel to decide what the rarity would be, it was 2/3 too. A great tool for anyone who's feeling indecisive btw. ~

I don't know how some people draw sometimes, but I tried! And honestly I think it turned out pretty good. Also, some of you guys are quick! It took me like a week to draw this lol. ~

Yes she is sitting on a grave/headstone. No I probably didn't shade it correctly (sorry). Yes she is holding a lamppost, it has something fire-like inside though. ~

Am I bit overly ambitious in design and planning? Very much so. And I'm pretty sure that I'm better at backgrounds than anatomy, then again I've never drawn people super often. Speaking of, I'll probably post the dress design, possibly the graveyard, later so you can see what I was using as reference and to see how overboard I am sometimes.

~~~

Some Long-ish Lore Notes!

This is one of my Ramshackle OCs, she is a 2nd Year and the *Housewarden (shocker). ^*I'm not saying Prefect because calling Yeray 'Vice Prefect' sounds a little weird, plus Ramshackle is a little more populated in my version. ~

Mentioned OCs : Yeray | 2nd Year, based on the character Yzma (from Emperor's New Groove), Vice Housewarden, responsible schemer. I might make a card for him...I dunno though. Soren | 2nd Year, from Gabrielle & Tractatori's world too, attending RSA, sunshine incarnate. ~

For anyone wondering about Tractatori, It's kinda hard to explain them, so the gist of it is they're like Venom, only they're a mysterious entity that's almost like the boogeyman where my OC is from. ^*Yes I know the name is weird, it's Latin, and from my research, means 'manipulator'. Take that with a grain of salt though. ~

Well this took me a bit, but thank you thank you for checking this out and thank you to @gl00myb3arz for making this event! I hope you enjoyed. Have a lovely day/night! ~ If you'd like to check out the fanevent more, just check out @gl00myb3arz or the hastag 'GhostGroom!!!'.

[notjustjavierpena]

Six Weeks

A/N: Hiya! I hope you enjoy the first chapter of my very self-indulgent Javier fic. I'm still wrapping my head around his characterization, but I hope you will love him as much as me.

Summary: Steve gets injured in the field. You end up as his 6-week-replacement.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: EVENTUALLY +18 Smut (minors DNI), cute banter, casework, office games, flirting, kidnapping/abductions

Word count: 3.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47206690/chapters/118942645

Chapter 1: Week One

“Six weeks? Fuck, Murphy,” Javier sounded exhausted already. He leaned against the desk as if needing some kind of support to process what he had just been told. The phone rested between his shoulder and ear as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“What do you want me to say?” Steve said from the other end of the line, “That I’m a victim of poor construction work? Connie’s already on my ass for getting up from the couch. She won’t let me go to work which, to be fair, is pretty reasonable since I can’t walk.”

Despite how frustrated Javier was, Steve was right. They had been so close to a win that both of them could practically taste the satisfaction of catching some bastard with a connection to the kidnappings that they were currently investigating, when Steve had taken one wrong step on a roof in the barrio. It had collapsed under him, and he had landed on the floor of some poor stranger’s living room. It had resulted in compensation for said stranger and a severely sprained ankle. 

“This will set us back weeks. Messina’s already calling me into her office for a meeting later,” Javier sighed and let the hand run over his hair instead.

“Just talk to her, I’ll still be working from home.”

“You know it won’t do shit to sit on your ass with a pile of outdated files,” there was a pause, “I swear, if she sends me a replacement with no clue what he is doing, I’ll drag you into the office in a wheelchair if I have to.”

“You’re funny. Just— I’m not important. The case is,” Javier could hear Steve shuffle around, then he continued, “I have to go. Talk to the boss and try to be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

*

The meeting started five minutes ago, and Javier Peña was nowhere to be seen. You eyed the clock on the wall, watching the second hand tick along as the silence between you and Claudia Messina dragged on. It felt awkward by now. 

“I’m sure he’ll be here in a minute,” she said to you when it became too much to listen to nothing else but each other’s breaths. You weren’t sure if you believed her.

“I don’t have to be anywhere else right now. He can take all the time he needs,” you said through a polite but very fake smile. You were being transferred from your own unit to the DEA against your will. Messina had specifically asked for you due to your (successful) work on similar abduction cases, but you suspected that it was also due to a need for not being the only woman in the room anymore. 

The fact that she was forcing you to be working with Javier Peña, woman to woman, didn’t seem to bother her. Javier fucking Peña, who was known for being a selfish, overly aggressive and ambitious man who treated women like notches on his bedpost. Despite his charming character and handsome looks, you were certain that this would be six weeks in hell, trapped with an arrogant man with a shitty attitude towards you and all you wanted was an equal.

You would have to put up a brave face as well as a fight for being taken seriously. It wouldn’t have been the first time in your career that you had to prove your worth to a mediocre male agent. The problem was just that Peña wasn’t exactly the definition of mediocrity; he was ruthless and, for the most part, got the result he needed. Word got around.

Seven minutes past, agent Peña walked into the office looking like he was too important to be here. He most likely felt that way too with the way he didn’t apologize for being late.

“Agent Peña,” Messina said, tone anything but kind, “Thank you for taking the time to join us.”

She then introduced you to him, and Javier looked bored with the conversation. You crossed your arms over your chest, refraining from rolling your eyes. He did give you a glance as she said your name but that was it. 

“Look,” Javier said the first chance he got. You prepared yourself for what he was about to monologue about, “Murphy and I got this under control. I don’t need or want a new person on the team and in on the case, it’ll just slow everything down with how much I have to work just to brief them— her.”

“I’m from the Kidnappings and Missing Persons unit, jackass,” you made yourself a little taller. Javier scoffed.

Messina raised her voice, standing up from behind her desk, “I don’t care if you both end up killing each other as long as you finish this job first. Agent Peña, this isn’t a pick and choose situation. The parliament is in deep distress, and it needs you two to fix it. Lives are at stake, children.”

Ouch. She was right. Javier mirrored your stance as he was scolded but unlike you, he looked at the ground as it happened. 

“I’ll brief her right now,” he eventually said, leaving the room in an instant and you guessed that you were supposed to follow.

As the two of you walked down the hallway, none of you said a word to each other. You walked a few steps behind him, noticing how you could tell that he was fuming just from looking at the back of his head. He took long footsteps back to his desk, like when one would skip steps on a staircase, and his hand flexed by his side. 

“Listen,” your name sounded cruel coming from his mouth. He stopped at his desk, resting a hand possessively on top of a pile of papers, “I don’t like this as much as you do but if we’re going to have any chance of winning this, we have to work together and you have to swallow your pride. I’ll brief you once, show you how I work around here and then we’ll get to work. Whatever I say goes.”

“Easy there, tiger,” you rolled your eyes. Did he seriously just tell you to swallow your pride? Your words came with an unfriendly smile, “I don’t think anyone would question your authority with how much you just pissed all over your work station.” 

“Coffee,” he interrupted.

“What?” You replied.

“I need coffee for this.”

The break room was a sad excuse for one. It wasn’t much different than the one you usually spent time in though, rocking the aesthetic of something that was paid for by the state. The same yellowish wood cabinets of the mini kitchen, cheap chairs around a cheap table and not a plant in sight. The only wall decorations were a clock and a sign that told you to clean up after yourself. 

Javier strode past the vending machine by the door, which you longingly stared at as you passed it too. You wouldn’t mind something sweet right now when there was so much venom in the air.

Javier started up the coffee machine. He reached for the cabinet doors to search for a mug, skipping several that were staring him in the face. You assumed that he had a favorite. 

When he finally did find the right mug, you noticed him only grabbing one for himself. This sort of powerplay seemed childish, but you weren’t going to point it out and ruin your day even more. Instead, you just got a mug out for yourself. 

“Did Messina say anything at all?” Javier finally broke the silence as the coffee maker made a gurgling noise in the background.

“Not much,” you told him, leaning your hip against the counter, “But I watch the news. I know you’ve been gathering resources from my unit too. Maybe this’ll work out in the end.”

Javier let out a humorless laugh but for the first time, he was actually looking at you. You tried not to shrink yourself under his brown, scrutinizing eyes. 

“I know this isn’t ideal, Peña,” you continued with a little sigh, “But I promise you that I’m good at what I do, so tell me what you got. I’m professional. I’m hardworking like you, I assume.”

Javier’s eyes gave you a once over, the agent sucking his teeth. He looked like he was contemplating what would happen if he said no.

“It has been going on for a while. Way before it hit the news,” Javier finally let out. He turned to the coffee machine which had made a fresh pot, filling the room with the distinct smell that soothed any office worker’s mind. He poured himself a cup, hesitating for a moment before turning to you and filling your mug as well. 

“Thanks,” you said genuinely.

He clicked the pot into its place, “It started small enough for the media to be indifferent, but the president’s spin doctor? Fuck, they won’t let that go that easily, they’re all doing spin themselves. Guess it becomes interesting when it hits too close to home.”

“I heard that he was taken out in the open,” you took a sip of the scalding coffee. 

“Poor bastard was on his way home to his wife, dragged into a car and shot out in the outskirts of town, but with everything going on? Stripping the president of his way to good PR isn’t stupid.”

“So this isn’t actually abduction?” You raised a brow. Why were you here exactly? 

“Steve and I are thinking things are getting worse,” Javier started walking back to his work desk. You followed him silently, “Those other people weren’t even considered as DEA-cases before this last one.”

“So they're moving up through the hierarchy,” you placed the mug on what you assumed was agent Murphy’s desk. There was a framed picture of two blonde-haired individuals on the desk, a man and a woman who were both smiling. The man looked too American to not be called Steve Murphy.

“Yeah…” Javier was underestimating you, because he trailed off for a moment when he realized you were catching on perfectly, “Yeah, exactly that. Fuck knows who is next.”

“But why DEA? This doesn’t sound like anything drug-related. Surely, Escobar isn’t repeating himself,” you slumped down into Murphy’s chair.

“That’s what we thought,” he replied after a sip of coffee, “We’re assuming that someone is keeping up operations outside La Catedral. Escobar will need reassurance that the extradition bill ban stays.”

“Have you looked into this?” You wished that you’d had some sugar for your own coffee as you drank it. A part of you didn’t want to ask for it, because Peña didn’t need a reason to bully you about not being a real adult.

“Here’s the kicker,” Javier looked proud of himself. He gave you a little smirk, drawing out the anticipation, “The abductions and killings are all of people related to the politicians who are against the ban of extradition. I bet they’re going to ensure that the ban stays a ban.”

You grimaced. 

“He’s an evil motherfucker,” he added, “It won’t be pretty, cariño, the next coming weeks.”

“I work with cases of missing persons, cariño,” you bit back at the condescending name, “Trust me. I do ugly for a living.”

Javier held up his hands in surrender. 

“So what’s our plan moving forward?” You asked instead of commenting.

The DEA agent walked to a long filing cabinet which was placed against the wall and had seen better days. Organization was a foreign concept to these two men, you figured, because stacks of papers were scattered on top and notes with scribbles of hurried handwriting were sticking out from its drawers. You made a mental note to attempt to create some kind of system, most likely when Peña wasn't around.

He returned to your desk with a tower of beige folders, some stamped with classified information. The stack landed on the table with a thump, almost knocking over your coffee if you hadn't been quick to rescue it.

“Start reading,” he ordered, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, “I’ll be back later.”

“Where are you going?” You called out, already undoing the rubberband on the front of the first folder.

“Out.”

*

A few days of this dynamic passed. You read as many files through as your brain could handle, occasionally writing something down on a notepad, whilst listening to the sound of Javier tapping away on his typewriter. 

None of you said much to each other. You had short conversations about who was getting coffee, and you volunteered more than a few times to get a break from having your eyes glued to paper. 

In the middle of your pushed-together desks, an ashtray slowly filled with half-smoked cigarettes and the hours dragged on with nothing ever really happening. It felt a little ridiculous to think that Javier had been angry that you had no time to catch up on him and Steve’s work, when you had had nothing but time these last few days. Despite this, you knew it was only a matter of when before something new would happen.

You blamed it on the boredom, but you would also sometimes find yourself looking at agent Peña over the top of your reading material. He had a crease in his forehead whenever he concentrated, which made him look slightly older than what your initial guess of his age had been. 

“Eyes on the file, cariño,” he had said at one time with a smug look upon his face, and you had muttered something about having wanted to ask him if he’d like a refill of his mug. Then you had left the room with red cheeks, and completely forgotten to scold him about the nickname.

Now, it was Thursday afternoon. The two of you were in your usual spots, time going by as slowly as ever. You were alone in the bullpen, but there was the faint sound of people buzzing about in the building. 

You threw the latest folder onto your desk with an exasperated sigh, then leaned back into the office chair and scratched along your scalp. It made Javier look up with an unreadable expression.

“What?” You asked simply, flattening your hair again. 

“You done?” He nodded towards your pile of papers.

“You know, I’m beginning to think that you just wanted to keep me busy, so we didn’t have to talk.”

Javier made a sound at that. You smirked back at him. 

“Not the case,” he eventually replied.

“Right, but word goes that it could’ve been the case,” you rested your hands in your lap, watching him not react at all to the revelation that people spoke about him behind his back. He knew. 

“There’s words?” He didn’t even try to sound surprised. 

“Plenty,” you weren’t going to tell him that you were specifically referring to him being an asshole serial romancer.

“I thought you said that you were professional, meaning you wouldn’t believe gossip about your colleagues,” there was something teasing about his tone. 

“Oh, fuck off,” you couldn’t help but laugh, “How am I supposed to know what to believe when you don’t want to speak to me?” 

Javier removed his hands from the keys on the typewriter, “Fine. What do you want to talk about?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, not sure what he was playing at. Then you sat up a little straighter, “Where are you from? It’s not Colombia.”

“Laredo, Texas. Next question.”

“Age?” 

“Old enough,” he went on before you could continue your rapid fire questions, “Unmarried, no kids, and I like long walks on the beach.” 

“You’re funny,” you said.

“You sound like Murphy,” he noted but you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. You weren’t even sure if Javier actually liked his partner but you hoped he did; if agent Peña compared you to him, there was no reason why he couldn’t like you too. It would make everything easier.

“Easier on the eyes though,” he added when you hadn’t replied as quickly as before.

“No mustache either,” you said with a slight grin, not about to show that you were taking his flirty attitude seriously.

That made him laugh. It felt like such a victory, a step closer to acceptance. You laughed too.

When the giggles died down again, a comfortable silence came over the both of you. You busied yourself with stacking the files that you had finished reading and Javier lit a cigarette as you both went back to work. 

*

That conversation had seemed to loosen up some of the tension between the two of you, and by Friday afternoon, you had continuous conversations that lasted more than three words. Your chest felt a little lighter than just days earlier, and whilst you had been so certain of Javier Peña’s nature before, you were starting to doubt if the rumors were true.

You found out that Javier did indeed like agent Murphy, because he frequently mentioned him in passing comments about previous missions. It seemed like he often visited Murphy and his wife Connie to eat dinner with them at their home (mostly on Connie’s demand but it might have had to do with him eating nothing but takeout). 

Additionally, you found that despite Javier’s efforts to stay hard-working and productive during these long days of waiting for something new to happen, even he experienced a certain amount of cabin fever. The cigarettes were piling up. 

Personally, you had finished Javier’s assignment of catching up on what he had called light reading. This meant that you had moved on to the neglected filing cabinet instead, working with your back towards Peña as you sorted through notes and documents without having the authority to look at any of them. It made it that much harder, so you simply settled on arranging everything into alphabetical order.

When you had reached H in the alphabet, you felt Javier’s eyes in the back of your head. You decided not to say anything, quietly swapping out the old tag on the front of the drawer with your new one, until a crumpled up piece of paper hit your shoulder.

You turned around, “Seriously?”

“I’m going fucking crazy here,” he told you.

You bent down to pick up the ball of paper then threw it back at him, but unlike you, he had every chance of catching it in his hands and he did. 

“You know, you could help me,” you noted but it only earned you the paper ball thrown back at you. You didn’t catch it.

“You’re terrible,” he snorted as the paper hit the floor in front of you.

“I’m not terrible, I’m just not ten years old,” you once again got it from the floor, weighing it in your hand for a moment before tossing it towards him in an overhand throw. He caught it again.

“I bet I can throw and aim better than you,” he was challenging you, clearly not accepting your reluctance to throw things around the office building. Unfortunately, you could never say no to proving an overly confident man wrong.

“No way,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “Pick a target.”

Javier reached for the wastebasket next to his desk, dragging it to the middle of the room. It wasn’t too far from where the two of you were sitting, but still far enough to be a challenge. 

“Ladies first,” he said after tearing off a piece of paper from his own notepad. He crumpled it in his hand, handing you the newly made paper ball after. 

“Don’t go easy on me,” you said before tossing the ball effortlessly into the wastebasket. 

Javier whistled, then nodded towards the basket, “Damn. Well, that needs to be moved further away.”

It seemed that the DEA agent wasn’t just competitive in his field but also when it came to office games because soon you were writing down scores. You would never admit that it was a relief to do something drastically different, especially not when you earned a nudge to your shoulder from him as a way of showing respect, but seeing him not be so serious was fun.

“Alright last one,” you said as you balanced on one leg on a wooden chair that you had gotten from the break room. There was a desk between you and the wastebasket, the both of you having had to add to the challenge with each throw since you were desperate to outshine each other. 

“Go on then,” Javier was standing on his own chair to get a better view. 

“A pro cannot be rushed,” you teased and you didn’t have to look at Javier’s face, but only listen to the sound he made to know that he was rolling his eyes. You raised your arm over your head to take aim, lifted your chin slightly. 

Behind you, someone cleared their throat. You froze.

“Agents, I see you’re getting along after all,” it was Messina. Javier was already off his chair, and you followed suit a few seconds after. Messina didn’t look very impressed, “There’s been another incident, but don’t let me stop you from your important work here.”

“Sorry, it won’t happen again, Ms.,” you blurted out, earning a glare from agent Peña. He was probably not one to admit to his mistakes.

“Come on, both of you, we’re going to the conference room,” she turned on her heel. 

“Suck-up,” you heard Javier say as he passed you on the way down the hall. You decided it was his way of telling you to stand up for yourself more.

[gragam]

i listened to more current albums this year than i ever have before so i wanna rank them

8. brat remix album - charli xcx

not really much to say about this. its not like i was excited for it but its impressive that not one of them is even really listenable. charli has a knack for picking the worst features imaginable every single time

favorite tracks: :/

7. sophie - sophie

it feels unfair ranking this against all the other ones bcus of the circumstances surrounding its release and im glad the tracks are out in the world but unfortunately none of them really stood out to me. sorry sophie you will always be the queen

favorite tracks: reason why, live in my truth

6. brat - charli xcx

im maybe overly critical of brat because of its reputation but it has a couple songs i really like and a couple i really dont and mostly a bunch that i dont really care about because this album is way too long. overall i guess i like it but it feels half baked in a way that 2 bonus versions couldnt fix. best thing about this album is that it introduced me to her better albums

favorite tracks: sympathy is a knife, everything is romantic, 365, spring breakers

5. imaginal disk - magdalena bay

this album kind of oversells itself with a really incredible first track before settling into something much less interesting but still very listenable. its stretched a little too thin over too many tracks but theres not really any that id skip. just a good album with a couple of great songs

favorite tracks: she looked like me, fear sex, cry for me, the ballad of matt and mica

4. the book of phytoelectron - susumu hirasawa

his instrumentation is as wonderful as ever and i do really like the album but i selfishly wish it was a regular album instead of a guitar album because i think he has like the best singing voice ever. but there were some tracks that reminded me of his old prog rock band that i really like so that was a nice little treat for me

favorite tracks: the history of omnificence in memory grass, area of red flowers on the snowy mountain range, the valley where the blue flowers on expedition take root in the light (damn), pollination charge: vines that go back to the future, remember it will come

3. i lay down my life for you - jpegmafia

seriously awesome production throughout even if the last couple tracks are sorta underwhelming. i know some people dont like this as much as his other albums and im not Super familiar with his other ones but i think this ones my favorite that ive heard. i have kind of a love/hate relationship with sampling but hes uses them in a way i love

favorite tracks: sin miedo, be right there, its dark and hell is hot

2. mahogakko - hakushi hasegawa

honestly im probably putting this too high theres a lot of dead space between the really good tracks but those tracks are like mind expanding and definitely contributed to me expanding my musical horizons this year. one of the most maximalist albums ive ever heard but still very listenable. the contrast between the off the walls instrumentation and their high soft singing voice really works for me

favorite tracks: departed, gone, mouth flash, kyofunohoshi

chromakopia - tyler the creator

kind of a surprise favorite for me ive never listened to a tyler album before and its definitely less ambitious than some of the others on here but i really enjoyed it. a couple of kind of cringey tracks but overall extremely fun and energetic while also being very heartfelt and touching. i will definitely be exploring more of his discography. i also like that sticky sounds exactly like a lisa the painful song

favorite tracks: st chroma, rah tah tah, i killed you, tomorrow, like him

[gard3nias]

11| An overly ambitious hedonistic seductress

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wc: 6.04k

date: 24/08/2024

mdi // masterlist // playlist

—Now playing: Ti vorrei sollevare by Elisa, Giuliano Sangiorgi ✫

Sunday and, just as the name implies, it was a sunny day and the soft breeze of the town never failed to be present. However, as autumn approached, the mornings felt colder, prompting people to grab sweaters and blankets. The chill slowly dissipated as the day progressed, and by noon, temperatures returned to the usual comfortable levels of the summer. Today, unsurprisingly, temperatures rose even further in the afternoon, encouraging everyone to spend more time outdoors to avoid using air conditioners and fans.

Daphne and Cleo's neighbourhood is always silent, having barely any household containing little children who could be playing in their gardens. The only 'disturbance' came from barking dogs, chainsaws, the hammering from workshops or the buzzing sound of tractors from the neighbouring farms.

The neighbours obviously didn't expect they would hear the hysterical laughs of teenagers, the exhausted screams of another teenager and the overall chaos coming from Cleo's home.

She'd laid out her warnings the previous day: "I have a lot of cats"—two cats in reality but she didn't want to specify just to scare them—"My brother hates noise and messy environments" she stated, firmly advising them to leave their childishness at home when coming. Still, everyone knows that giving a piece of advice is useful only if the receiver takes it into consideration.

The five friends were all downstairs in her living room and they were planning on studying outside in her backyard because of the heat so the only thing left to do was take their things outside but suddenly a supposedly five-minute thing started taking way longer than she'd ever wish.

"Damn. The fridge is full as fuck! How many people are living here?" James asked, checking out the contents of the piece of furniture. He was unaware of the mini heart attack his words gave his friend. "Don't!— Don't touch the fridge. If you need anything, tell me. We went grocery shopping just yesterday and my brother eats a lot," she dragged the vowel to enhance the word and seriousness, "So no. If y'all feel hungry, just tell me." The warning was enough for the boys to lift their hands in surrender and back away from the fridge Cleo had just violently closed and was guarding with her whole body.

The girl sighed in relief, glad to have solved the issue only for her eyes to bulge out of their sockets again when she saw Nick approach her fireplace where, upon the sill, were family pictures, most especially, her childhood pictures. Why the fuck didn't she think about removing them earlier?

"Back off, Dominic!" she exclaimed, rushing up to him. The use of his full name had him on alert since it was rare but soon he understood her body language and what she was trying to hide as a mischievous smirk rose on his face. "Oh my God. You don't want me to see baby Cleo's photos?" he excitedly teased, seeing the shift in her as he understood her intentions.

"Nick, I swear to God if you dare— Nick!" she screamed when he made his first attempt to outsmart and pass her. "Nick, please," she begged, her tone wavered between a laugh and a cry because he was laughing at her distress. "They're just pictures and you're cute as fuck now so one can't imagine how cuter you were when you were a baby," he explained in a slightly more serious tone as he tried to understand the real reason behind her worry.

"I don't care and it's not true—"

"It's not true?"

In the meantime, James continued his tour of the floor without attempting to touch any food or object, Asher was tangled in the paws of Cinnamon and Lily while Daphne simply laughed at the scene as she recorded everything.

"I never knew I'd be the heartthrob of cats," he commented, surprised at their grip on his clothes whenever he wanted to detach them from himself. Daphne didn't do anything about it, having no type of experience with cats and most especially, enjoying the new memory that would occupy space in her phone.

"Pose." She finally spoke after laughing for way too much according to Asher. "What do you mean pose?"

"Pose for a picture," she simply repeated like it was obvious. She had to insist a bit more before he complied and posed, forcing a smile through the pain as she compelled herself to take good pictures before bursting into laughs again. This would be good content for her to upload to her Instagram stories and add to her new highlight dedicated to her friends—it already contained a few things thanks to Cleo's tags. And, exactly, she left to do so, leaving Asher in his despair while she lay on the couch to edit the picture with a few doodles and tagging everyone present.

Nick and Cleo had finished their little fight of resistance and the boy was now holding one of the pictures, congratulating Cleo for being a very cute baby while the girl simply stood next to him, checking if the picture was too bad for her, rolling her eyes at the compliments as she held her smiles back and eagerly begging him to stop satisfying his curiosity.

James had finished the tour of the floor and was now bored and that was when he remembered why they were there in the first place. "Hey, guys. Let's hurry and take what we need to study," his words froze the place up. Daphne moved her eyes onto him, Asher stopped struggling with the cats and Nick and Cleo stopped their activity, simultaneously turning around to look at the speaker. "James? Everything all right?" Asher broke the ice.

"Yeah like... you fine?" Daphne joined. Nick and Cleo nodded when the respondent turned in their direction since he was so confused and looking for clarification.

"What?" he asked, receiving no reply for a few seconds before Daphne spoke again, "We're just surprised you of all people suggested that."

"Yep, surprised,"

"Super surprised," Cleo and Nick added right after her. James simply rolled his eyes, realising he was getting worried over nothing.

"What the fuck guys? I thought it was something serious—"

"Oh, he was going to be serious—"

"Asher!" And everyone laughed. James still rolled his eyes and went on with his life while the rest stopped playing around and got up to do what they initially had to do.

"Cleo? Imma need you to come get your fur balls off me. I'm losing my shit. Thank goodness I ain't allergic to their fur. I would've been dead by now."

It was a five-minute thing, taking every book and device they needed. It was almost a twenty-minute thing, taking Cinnamon and Lily off Asher who fought against wailing like a baby in frustration. And that's how they found themselves sitting around the white table they moved to the garden under the protection of the wide white umbrella standing through its centre.

Cleo's home never hosted these many people. Ever since she was a child, the only companion she had with her was her brother, her father and, briefly, her mother. She'd known Nick, James and Asher since middle school but never had she invited them over because the thought never crossed her mind—and also they already spent a lot of time together considering their moments in class and at practice after school. Regardless if she wanted to hang out with them, they would opt for a destination in town, not anyone's home.

Today, when her neighbours peered out their windows into Cleo's garden, they were greeted with an unfamiliar sight: five people sitting around a white table. Usually, when they spotted Cleo in the garden, she would either be playing with her brother, helping him out with something, swinging on the swing hanging from the big tree, or playing with her cats—certainly not whatever she was doing now.

Barely a month had passed since Daphne had moved here permanently so the images of her reading in her garden weren't long-lost memories to the neighbours anymore but rather part of their routine since Daphne had always been reading there since she came back.

When they would look out of their window and into her garden, they'd find her there, sitting and reading peacefully. The only thing changing day by day was her clothing which would get thicker as the temperatures went down and autumn approached.

They didn't know that the five people in Cleo's garden had decided to meet for school reasons although one could deduct it by noticing the books filling the table and the focus painting the expressions of the teenagers.

One could also deduct that James gave no fucks about school and has a hard time staying focused for too long hence the phone in his hands while the rest were working. He had a leg bent over the other with arms crossed and a subtle frown on his face peeking through his blonde hair strands.

They hadn't even studied for an hour and little James was already out of it. He'd sighed many times by now, gaining Asher's side glances the whole time. James couldn't notice that. The only thing he knew was that his friends were boring, this was boring, life was boring and he couldn't bear it any longer. He even looked in Nick's direction, his usual partner in crime, only to find him focused on working, leaving him shocked.

"Isn't it time to like... have a little break?" he suggested only to receive silence as an answer from all of them. They didn't notice him except for Asher who didn't hold back from rolling his eyes. He had to repeat his question a second time before someone other than Asher answered him or, better, looked in his direction at all.

"It's barely been an hour. What are you talking about?" Cleo questioned with an eyebrow lifted. "It's funnier if you remember that he was the one that encouraged us to come out and study," Asher butted in, gaining an eye roll from James.

"Sorry, I can't stay focused for too long. I'm not as braindead as you are," he spoke directly to Asher who took his glasses off, slightly annoyed at the remark.

"You call having a long attention span being braindead? It literally proves that you're the one who's braindead because you don't know what the word itself means and trust me that anyone could appear 'braindead' to you because you can only stay focused for two minutes,"

"Okay, okay. Let's end it there. You wanna take a break? Let's take a break but then you'll have to seriously work later," Daphne interrupted, getting rid of the ponytail that was already stressing her sensitive skull.

James wasn't bothered in the slightest by Asher's words since he'd got what he'd been wishing for so he simply stood up and headed to the kitchen with Cleo running behind him to make sure he wouldn't empty the fridge.

"Be a bit nicer, yes?" Daphne was now speaking to Asher who simply rolled his eyes and got up, leaving her without any reply. She was a bit baffled just as Nick by her right with whom she exchanged looks of confusion before they too got up and went inside.

—Now playing: Beautiful by Lana Del Rey ✫

Once they got to the kitchen, they found James and Cleo arguing about what they could have to eat and, being already a bit annoyed, Daphne made them settle down and excused all of them out of the kitchen so she could handle it herself. Cleo didn't object and grabbed the chance to play outside with only James and Nick because Asher didn't look down for any type of physical activity—maybe only if it meant he could go back home.

He didn't budge from his position, leaning on the counter with legs and arms crossed and staring into nothing. Daphne, on the other end, was busy exploring Cleo's kitchen to understand where to find what.

She wanted to make some sandwiches and was having a hard time finding the pack of sliced bread they'd bought the previous day. She'd already gathered the filling onto the counter ignoring Asher's presence who had stopped staring into nothing and was now looking at Daphne most especially because she had succeeded in finding the sliced bread but it was in the cupboard, a bit too high away—not the cupboard itself because the pack was placed on the top layer.

"They most likely placed it here on purpose 'cause there's no way," she mumbled to herself and she kept jumping, pinching the packet closer and closer to the edge. She'd already jumped a few too many times to her liking especially because she hoped Asher would help her out but it seemed like he was in the mood to hold grudges against her as if she'd wronged him in any way.

She initially felt good because the packet was getting closer and closer and she would manage to get it without his help but her moment of glory was shut down when she accidentally pushed in instead of pinching it closer. When she noticed, she stopped jumping, looked up at the packet and stared in disbelief.

That was when she heard Asher chuckle behind her. Never had she snapped her head around this fast to glare at someone and never had he hid his smile so quickly.

"Were you just laughing?" she questioned, eyebrow slightly lifted and eyes glaring holes in his figure. "Why would you think that?" he questioned back, mirroring her facial expressions.

Daphne wasn't hallucinating, she heard him clearly laughing in her moment of distress and he was now denying it, denying to had been behaving like a bitch because she told him to tune it down.

Yes. She wasn't hallucinating because he indeed was chuckling since he purposely let her struggle for a bit just because he felt like it. He wasn't that immature. Yes, she scolded him a bit and yes, he was a bit harsh but no, he wasn't going to act like a bitch about it. He would've let her struggle even on the best of his days. The only person who could get him back to being annoyed was James and, at the moment, he wasn't there.

Right now, he was staring dead into Daphne's eyes and she did the same with him. The tension between them soon faded away when they both got the cue that it was all in good fun but Nick didn't know this when he walked in to have a glass of water.

The room was so silent and his friends were staring at each other, both with arms and legs crossed and a crooked eyebrow. "Nice staring contest," he thought to himself and he served himself with the glass of water.

Daphne and Asher, on the other end, struggled to hold back their laughs as they could hear Nick's loud gulping sounds. Asher could see it on her face just as she could see it on his that a smile tried to creep up but they would race against the clock to suppress it. They could see it in each other's eyes, the panting, the sweat and the fatigue the race caused them but soon everything resulted to being in vain when Nick let out the loudest burp right after emptying the glass.

Asher immediately burst into laughter while Daphne's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets and rolled onto the floor at the loud sound. Yeah, it was very loud.

"Jesus Christ, Nick. It's just water," she said, laughing at the situation but also Asher's loud laugh and crumbling figure in front of her.

Nick simply smiled as he rinsed the glass and kept it back to where he found it. "Y'all never heard anyone burp before?" he simply asked, seeing how they were losing their shit.

"Nick? That was exceptionally loud especially since you drank ordinary water. Imagine if you had drunk sparkling water," Daphne explained—to be honest, she struggled to explain that because every word that left her mouth would simply increase Asher's laughter's pitch and volume. Nick didn't reply, smiling at how hilarious Asher sounded before going back outside.

"What the fuck?" Daphne asked in disbelief before repeating her question when she saw that Asher had fully turned red and seemed really in need of help.

"Hey, hey! Young man!" she called. His laughter's pitch and volume had vanished as he was silently laughing now, tightly holding onto his stomach—nothing is deadlier than that shit. "This bitch is on the verge of dying, jeez," she laughed, staring at him in hopes he would stop.

He did, a few seconds later but he did and when he came down, he took in a huge amount of air before letting it all out to ease the feeling of his contracted abdomen.

"A burp... almost killed you," Daphne joked, watching him get back up, "Wouldn't have minded anyway because it would have been your karma," she added.

"My karma? For what?"

"For fucking ignoring me and letting me make a fool of myself as I tried to take that fucking pack of sliced bread just because I scolded you a bit before!" she explained, gasping as she saw him start laughing once more.

"Ok. Yes, it's like you're really trying to kill me with laughter and no, I wasn't ignoring you for that. I would ignore you on any day. Your scolding has nothing to do with it. I was having my own type of fun," and Daphne gasped, reaching over to smack his arm as he laughed and finally complied to help her take the packet and make the sandwiches. As background music were the screams and laughs coming from Cleo's garden.

Soon, their conversation moved on to school subjects regarding their project and most especially the campaign. Asher confessed to being interested in running in the campaign but he would only entertain the idea the following year as a senior as he didn't feel ready yet.

Daphne grabbed the chance to ask him what were the requirements for such and even asked if he was interested in becoming the class president.

Their conversation was cut short by the loud scream coming from the garden. It was so loud Asher worried James or Nick had hurt Cleo somehow. Daphne, however, did not share his concern at first, but she still hurried behind him when he dashed out. They both froze when they saw Cleo and Nick wrestling over a ball, with James confused in a corner not knowing if to join in or separate them.

"Erm?" Daphne asked, side-eyeing Asher who simply rolled his eyes again and went back inside.

"Gosh, I thought it was something serious," he said, making it back behind the counter.

"It was obviously nothing serious. Anyone could tell,"

"Yeah, but I'm used to having to medicate Cleo's wounds because of how roughly they play."

"Are they always like that?" Daphne asked, "Like... in compromising positions like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... if an outsider had to take a look at them, they could suspect they are more than just friends, you know," she voiced out, placing the sandwich on the tray. "Were they ever a thing? Because as far as I know, Cleo never told me anything special about Nick."

Her question wasn't a surprise to him. He knew it would've eventually popped up in Daphne's brain and now he just happened to be the person to whom she addressed the question. "Not that I know of," he simply replied, placing his sandwich on the tray.

"Yes, they do look like more than friends and if I'm being honest with you, I always thought that Nick has a crush on her. James too,"

"Really?" Daphne gasped with bulging eyes and he nodded, "But I feel like if Nick does have a crush on her, his has existed for longer. We have known each other since middle school and Nick has always been like this with her. James started only like two years ago if I'm not mistaken,"

"Which was around when Cleo started getting popular and shit, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so,"

"But also, doesn't Nick also behave like this with everyone? I mean, he's not the shy type to worry too much about physical contact,"

"Yeah, he behaves like this with everyone and that's why one can't fully say that he crushes on Cleo because he isn't any different with others but he's just a bit different when it's just us, you know. There is a Nick with Cleo in public and a different Nick with Cleo in private such as hang outs like this. I do think that if James does have a crush on her, she knows and she also doesn't entertain the idea of starting anything serious with him because two years ago I wasn't the only person thinking he liked her. The whole class did,"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, but I think Cleo just sees him as a friend because she never really commented on the issue and it slowly faded, especially with the popularity she gained. It became easy to simply label him as a fanboy and nothing more,"

Daphne nodded and didn't speak further, looking out where her friends were. A part of her felt like her suspicions were true. Nick probably likes Cleo, James included, and it isn't surprising because Cleo is so charming. Like she'd already stated, Cleo could see the good in people, no matter the bad one could commit and she also seemed to never get sad or angry—unless you bring Valerie into the picture. Cleo is always smiling and happy. She seemed to have a social battery that never runs out and her smile was like a tattoo on her face.

Daphne hadn't seen her play volleyball yet, hadn't seen how competitive and just how skilled she was at the sport. However, Daphne knew Cleo's popularity likely stemmed from her talent in volleyball, indicating that she was genuinely good at it. 

There was just something fascinating about people being good at what they like.

All these were hypotheses that she would've changed into theories if she knew that Jungkook too fanboys over her.

"So right now, we're looking at a potential childhood crush from Nick?" she said looking at the scene in front of her.

Right in that moment, from the counter she could see Cleo and Nick going at it again, dragging to get the ball. They caught the attention of both she and Asher because Nick seemed to be giving Cleo a back hug from where he would occasionally lift her off the ground. She, on the other hand, would bend forward causing him to do the same. Another honestly compromising position.

"James is third-wheeling there," she comments before they get back to making the sandwiches.

"Worse it would be if he indeed likes her too," Asher added, gaining a hiss from Daphne as they both laughed.

—Now playing: Chiquitita by ABBA ✫

The boys left around dinner time, giving the girls enough time to finish tidying up. Daphne stayed back just for that reason.

There wasn't much left for them to take care of since they didn't mess up the place too much and the boys also helped a little before leaving to catch their bus home. Upstairs, Cole was still sleeping while noise still came from Cleo's dad's workshop. Been like that throughout the afternoon.

"Let's hurry cause I have to cook dinner,"

"You?" and Cleo nodded before turning around to sweep the kitchen. "Cole has been studying the whole morning and even after lunch. I just went to check and saw that he fell asleep so he's surely tired as fuck. My dad has been working nonstop on the project he wants to sell in his shop so yeah, I'm taking over the cooking." Daphne unconsciously nodded to the information as she adjusted the little pillows on the couch and armchair, picking up a few things from the floor and keeping others back where they belonged. As she did so, they stopped talking and completely focused on finishing their duty.

Since the boys had already helped with tidying up the living room a bit, Daphne was soon done with the work and was just roaming around, exploring the place now that she had the chance. In the meantime, Cleo was still sweeping the kitchen, trashing the packs of finished snacks that littered the counters. That was when a gasp from the living room diverted her attention away.

"Oh my god! You have vinyl records from ABBA?" Daphne exclaimed, taking the object in her hands and admiring it like it was a brick of gold. Cleo rushed to put the broom aside and went over to her overly excited friend.

"You listen to ABBA?" Daphne proceeded, taking the disc out of the packet and going straight to the vinyl player sitting next to the pile of records. Cleo smiled but the smile didn't reach her eyes. It wasn't the usual smile that painted her face, the infamous tattoo. No, Cleo struggled to smile and Daphne didn't notice.

She wanted to stop her friend, take the record from her hand, keep it back and shut everything up but that would require her to explain herself and if she failed to do so, she'd just leave a bitter taste in her friend's mouth or, worse, make her worry that there's something more. There is something more, but that more can stay in the isolated room Cleo had locked it in. She'd also trashed the key, wishing to never see that door open again. But it didn't stop the pain nor the insisting struggles as the door tried to open itself against its hinges and the lock.

Daphne maybe would've noticed this but maybe right now she was too excited to listen to ABBA or to play music from a vinyl player once again. The last time she'd done so was at Margot's place in the city but she didn't ponder much on that memory, especially now that Margot have been outcasted from her life just as she'd done to her. Daphne loved vintage things so she really had a thing for vinyl records—preferred them to the modern album packaging.

She didn't pay any attention to the song she was putting on since she was a great ABBA fan and eats up anything the group has released.

"You know how to use it?" Cleo finally spoke, her voice almost nonexistent. Again Daphne didn't notice this. Later, Cleo would be thankful for her inattention because she would've regretted dearly bringing worry upon her friend.

Daphne eagerly nodded as she backed away from the player, waiting for the music to start and it soon did as the soft sounds of a guitar started feeling the room.

"Chiquitita, tell me what's wrong?" she started singing along, gathering her hands on her chest as if the song had been produced in heaven.

"You're enchained by your own sorrow, In your eyes there is no hope for tomorrow." Cleo smiled more now. Chuckled a bit at how fondly Daphne sang along.

Her friend behaved as if she was in a music video, arms spreading out and going back to her chest at each word she sang. "How I hate to see you like this. There is no way you can deny it, I can see that you're oh so sad, so quiet."

Cleo's smile almost faded away, understanding the words, the lyrics. What a choice of song, she thought to herself but, again, Daphne didn't know this so she couldn't show any emotion or any suspicious reaction that could cause her friend to ask questions, to worry. "Chiquitita, tell me the truth. I'm a shoulder you can cry on, your best friend, I'm the one you must rely on." Cleo simply smiled. Laughed seeing how her friend struggled to get on the couch and be even more dramatic. Once she got on it, she spread her arms out again, passionately singing and pointing at Cleo as she sang the next words.

"You were always sure of yourself. Now I see you've broken a feather. I hope we can patch it up together." She didn't know that the words were resonating with Cleo, hitting a very sensitive nerve she's been keeping hidden under her sleeve for a long time now and there was no way she could've known because, unlike Taehyung, Daphne isn't a keen observer but just a good listener. Cleo was the same: different from Taehyung, yes, but she was just good at speaking, with her listening skills not as refined as her friend's. Yes, she is so good at talking but, in that moment, she preferred silence because she was scared of having others worry for her. After all, there is nothing scarier than the sudden extinguishing of the sun—and it's not an eclipse.

Cleo was still standing by the vinyl player while Daphne had already travelled around the room and was making her way back to it, back to Cleo and once she reached, she grabbed her friend's hands and dragged her into the centre of the living room to dance.

"Chiquitita, you and I know how the heartaches come and they go and the scars they're leavin'." Cleo's body was a bit tense but not tense enough to resist Daphne's force as she dragged her around. "You'll be dancing once again and the pain will end. You would have no time for grievin'" Daphne sang without caring to hit the right notes as they started spinning and jumping around. She was unaware that her free spirit at the moment eased her friend's tightened muscles, slowly bringing her to enjoy the song and hop around with her.

"Chiquitita, you and I cry but the sun is still in the sky and shinin' above you."

Daphne didn't know this—again. Not just the song but the whole musical group held a certain weight in Cleo's mind and occupied a certain space in her heart. Space she'd rather give to anything else in this world. A weight she'd gladly go on a diet to lose but this type of weight was particular. Wasn't the type you could lose either by going on a diet or starving yourself.

"Let me hear you sing once more like you did before. Sing a new song, Chiquitita," they both started singing, fingers intertwined, arms spread out and heads thrown back as they spun around, sometimes breaking into a simple dance move. "Try once more like you did before. Sing a new song, Chiquitita."

After parting ways for the verses, Daphne started first: "So the walls came tumblin' down and your love's a blown out candle. All is gone and it seems too hard to handle." And then it was Cleo's turn to become dramatic with her gestures as she started singing along to her own part: "Chiquitita, tell me the truth. There is no way you can deny it. I see that you're oh so sad, so quiet."

Again, unaware, Daphne's actions were like gauze covering the wounds lacing Cleo's body and soul. The smile spread across her face was just what Cleo needed to feel at ease.

"Chiquitita, you and I know how the heartaches come and they go and the scars they're leavin'. You'll be dancin' once again and the pain will end. You will have no time for grievin'" Linking arms and running in a circle, they sang their hearts out.

"Chiquitita, you and I cry but the sun is still in the sky and shinin' above you. Let me hear you sing once more like you did before. Sing a new song, Chiquitita." With hands linked like a couple dancing at a ball and making each other spin around, they started singing the post-chorus: "Try once more like you did before. Sing a new song, Chiquitita. Try once more like you did before. Sing a new song, Chiquitita."

As they danced to the instrumentals, Cleo realized that maybe, just maybe, she'd found a possible solution to the weight occupying her mind, to the spot in her heart and to the wounds that were yet to heal.

Daphne had wondered where her mother was the day she came here and saw Cleo surrounded only by her father and Cole at lunch. She wondered what could have happened to her mother. Was she dead? Did the parents go through a divorce? And if they did, were the kids keeping contact with the mother?

Maybe if Cleo had opened up in that moment, she would've had a little answer to all those questions. She would've finally known something. She would've learned that Cleo's mother used to be a great fan of the group, and she was behind the reason why those vinyl records were there in the first place. She would've known that the last time any song from the group was played, the father was who put it on. She would've known that every memory revolving around the group's songs was in black and white in Cleo's head, bereft of any real colour. Cleo was just waiting, hoping, they would fade away completely, with no colours left behind. Not even the outlines. But she has been waiting for years now and her hope is disappearing faster than the memories she despises.

Maybe, with Daphne back in her life, she would be able to take control and instead of waiting for time to do what it does best, she could change her story, change those memories and replace them with something better, something as nice as this: them spinning around to the ABBA song.

But she knew that Daphne's help would be given unknowingly. Cleo would never ask for help but just grab it if it presents itself in front of her. She didn't know this but it was exactly why her healing process was so slow.

All these were uncertainties because Cleo wasn't sure and never would be unless she opened up to someone, anyone. For example, she could open up to her brother: he's always been there for her, through thick and thin but that was exactly why she didn't want to open up to him. He was already doing a lot for her and the last thing she'd want to do is add another weight on his shoulders.

She could also confide in the man watching the girls from outside through a window. He wasn't done with his project which was lying unfinished in his workshop because he rushed outside once he heard the ABBA song. He's the only person in this house listening to any song from that group because they carry a different meaning to each person in his little family. A meaning that revolved around the mother, the one person who had singlehandedly ruined their family, scarring everyone on her way out.

He's been working on his wounds. 'S been trying to turn them into scars and possibly erase them completely but he'd gladly help his children too if only they would let him in.

He was grateful though to have come this far and was also thankful for Daphne's actions at that moment. She was oblivious to the darkness looming around those songs but she managed to shine through and overshadow it allowing his daughter's beautiful smile to come out from its hiding spot.

He smiled too and a tear ran down his cheek as well, but it was a tear of joy. A joy he'd been looking for ever since that day it left their home with their mother. He'd convinced himself that that joy had run away from his family for good but it was slowly making its way back. Maybe the road was too dark, no streetlights present, no guiding star or moon in the sky but thanks to this, thanks to Daphne, a streetlight had restarted working, brightening the way a bit for as much as it could.

He was very grateful for that.

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[thecolourfulkingdom]

More tinfoil hat theories! What's the deal with Sally Starlet?

What's with her anyway? We have like +100500 theories on Wally, Home and Frank. But what about our favourite starwoman? Not enough speculations.

Let me bring you some tinfoil-y deliciousness.

Sally's colour is ORANGE as befitting, well, you know her being a literal Sun. But since Sun is also a Star it creates a strange duality.

Sun that is a star that is a performer? Oh my, dear Sally has many faces and wears many masks.

Sally's tarot card is obviously The Sun. Or is it? Let's see... The Sun is generally considered positive. It represents success, radiance, abundance, happiness, vitality, self-confidence and success. It represents good things and positive outcomes to current struggles. It also calls you to express yourself authentically.

The Sun in the upright position means: positivity, fun, warmth, success, vitality.

The Sun in the reversed position means : inner child, feeling down, overly optimistic.

Seemingly, the description fits Sally, right? But it's only a half of it. Our dear Sally may have a VERY different side to her.

But first, let's have a look at the Sally's house from Welcome Home page. It looks like a chest or even a toychest because of it's orange-yellow roof of a specific shape and like a theater stage with it's orange curtains with yellow star pattern at the same time. Oh and don't forget the red carpet in the from of it. if you look at the roof again, you will see a spotlight hanging above the "stage" part. Fancy!

But the most interesting element is the door. It sort of made into Sally's image - it has the same triangle yellow-orange elements styled like her hair around the dark orange doorframe.

The door itself has two door leafs. On both of each a side of a smiling face depicted. The Left one seems to represent the day - sky is bright cerulean with soft white clouds. Left half of the depicted face is bright yellow with red blush and orange eyelid.

Right door leaf represents night - sky is dark blue smoothly changing into the purple at the bottom with shiny yellow stars. The right half of the face is also cerulean but of different, cooler shade.

Sally of Many faces? Very well, it fits her like a performer, because changing faces that's what she does all the time.

Let's have look at The Moon card too.

The Moon. Th card itself is all about duality: two towers, two animals and one of them is tamed and the other is wild. The doubles are visible all over this card. Everything seems to echo the other, as if to allude to two possibilities. And let us not forget the fine line between conscious and unconscious...

On one hand, the Moon card can symbolize your imagination is taking the best of you. You are taking a path that you are unsure of, there could be danger lurking in the depths of the night. But the moon's light can bring you clarity and understanding . Allow your intuition to guide you through this darkness. But does Sally even possess an intuition? Good question.

Reversed Moon represent confusion and unhappiness - one wants to make progress, but isn't sure what is the right thing to do. They must deal with their anxiety and fears by overcoming them, for fears are like shadows in the dark.

I was wondering what if Wally's remark in the guestbook refer to Sally doing something that ruined their neighborhood? I mean, she already left her home once to get an audience. What if she grew bored with the small town such as Home and run away again.

Yeah, sounds what human starlets often do: ambitious young woman goes to conquer the big city. Swap big city with a human world and you will get a receipt for a disaster. Silly Sally could get entangled in the illusions of her stardom. How dangerous can it get? Given how innocent puppets are I would say, very fast.

So what did happen? Did Sally betray Wally and everyone else for fame? Dang... It would make sense why Wally dislike her.

Maybe there is more to it. I will keep digging.

Oh, also I was trying to get a better picture of her house yesterday and when I accidentally zoomed in...

And what the actual fuck is this?! Is that a skull?!!! And a worm/snail shadow from the bug post.

Sally, girl, you owe us an explanation.