#and you need to interact with people to do that but what if actually you just think i'm annoying but don't want to be mean

[twenty-qs]

You know, one of my favorite under-the-radar interactions in Arcane is actually between Jayce and Vi.

On paper they have…literally nothing in common. One’s the golden boy science nerd, plastered all over Piltover as the symbol of progress, who has actively made decisions on the Council that made life in Zaun worse. One’s a bruiser who cut her teeth on the streets of Zaun, and then prison, as Piltover did its very best to forget she ever existed. They’ve had maybe, like, one actual conversation, in which Vi called him ‘pretty boy’ and Jayce looked deeply uncomfortable. But against all odds—they get along like a house on fire. I think Jayce is the only one Vi would have accepted weapons made of Hextech from; and I think Vi (and Caitlyn, but Vi came first) was the only person other than himself that Jayce would have made Hextech weapons for. They’re so in sync that they literally coordinate battle moves on the fly without needing to exchange a word. It might strike you as weird, at first. It’s just so improbable.

But it makes sense. Because the way they make decisions is almost the same—emotion. Impulse. Punch first, think later. Do what you think is right, and don’t wait for the world to give you permission, because it never will. They trust their gut and make snap decisions. And because the world of Arcane is morally gray, they usually regret it.

Which makes me think that some of the strongest parallels in this new season might actually be between Vi and Jayce. Arcane is about change. The price of change; the promises and dangers of change; and how people change, too. Vi and Jayce have been relatively stable character-wise. They change their minds about things, circumstances around them change, but at least at the end of s2e3, they’re still very recognizably themselves. Still punch first, think later. But the people around them have been undergoing extreme transformations.

Powder is now Jinx. Vi spent the entire first season refusing to see this, then failing to understand this. At the start of season 2, she still can’t reconcile the two in her mind—she can only conceive of them as literally two different people. Powder is dead. (I killed her.) All that’s left is Jinx. (I created her.) But the truth is that Jinx is still her little sister, is still the girl who was once Powder. Powder didn’t die—she changed.

Meanwhile, Caitlyn in season 2 is having a cataclysmic change because of her trauma and grief. The Caitlyn Vi fell in love with was brave, precise, determined—and fundamentally kind. She traded her gun away for medicine to save Vi’s life. She didn’t even hesitate. But now, all of that laser focus is being bent on revenge. Caitlyn has become increasingly single-minded, narrow-viewed, her world reduced to the target in her sniper’s scope. If you’re an obstacle, she’ll simply shoot right through you. She promised Vi she wouldn’t change, and then she hit Vi and abandoned her the moment Vi got in the way. Season 1 Caitlyn would never do that.

Vi struggles with change. She never seems to quite—grasp it. Doesn’t understand how the Undercity has changed while she was locked up, stagnant, an insect trapped in amber. She loves people with a sort of nostalgic glow. What the show forces Vi to reckon with is how far she’s willing to love someone before they’ve changed too much. She thinks it’s over with Jinx. She says she doesn’t consider Jinx as her sister anymore. But they are, they’re still sisters, of course they are. Jinx knows this. Jinx loves her sister, even now. Which means there might still be something in her for Vi to love too. But with Caitlyn, is there anything left of the kind girl who gave Vi her freedom and treated her with compassion? Can Vi still love the dictator literally waging war against her people? Should she? (Could she even stop loving Caitlyn if she wanted to?)

Jayce’s arc is just beginning in season 2, so I’m not sure which direction he’s heading in. But the parallels are already showing up. Is Viktor still in there, or is he dead? (Did I kill him?) Is it just the Hexcore using his body now, a monster that must be stopped? (Did I create him?) Jayce, too, might soon be forced to decide if he can still love someone who’s changed past the point of recognition. Or whether he should.

All this is to say that I hope we get more Vi and Jayce interactions this season. And that it’s definitely not a coincidence that we got two divorces back to back.

[menagerofmischief]

Nugget Update (MV1)

sumary: y/n's always giddy after getting a nugget update, sure she loves her best boy, but it also has something to do with the cat sitter sending the updates

driver!reader x cat sitter!max verstappen -> habs incoming... series masterlist

cw: not fia approved words, a bit of lance hate (I don't actually hate him), mutual pinning, the grid teasing the reader, lot of appearances from the reader's cat, kissing, kinda mean!reader (to the grid)

wc: 4.1k

a/n: this is my first time writing in 2nd person so bear with me. also, I low key hate this and it may be shit. not proof read!

“Well aren’t you a ball of sunshine?” A voice called out, disturbing the peace - or the closest thing to peace you could have near a Formula 1 track.

Your gaze snapped up, eyes narrowing as you took in the man standing on the entry of the RedBull garage. “Hello, Charles,” you replied, a teasing bite obviously heard in your voice as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know you wanted to experience what a successful garage looks like but I thought Ferrari had a better hold on you.”

Charles laughs, his eyes crinkling as his lips stretch into a smile. Teasing Charles was always a fun time but that’s all it was, just a bit of fun. It never stretched into something meaner, just two people showing affection by teasing each other.

Charles had been your very first real friend on the grid. The first to offer his hand with a smile and genuinely mean it. The first to congratulate you on a win after getting out of the car or the first to say that the next race would be better. Really, he was your best friend, but you would never tell him that or it would go to his head.

“Funny, very funny.” He said, his accent thick. His eyes slid around the motor home until finally meeting your own. “Lot of drivers are going out for drinks, came by to invite you.”

“I don’t Charles,” you started to say, going through your mental list of excuses, searching for the best one to use to avoid this social interaction.

“Oh come on!” He whined, rolling his eyes. He gave you a look that let you know you could stop thinking about an excuse because he wasn’t going to be buying it. “We won’t stay that long and it’s night race tomorrow so you don’t need to wake up at the crack of dawn.”

You pressed your lips together, the lip gloss previously applied making them slide against each other easily. 

Charles kissed his teeth, nodding his head along. Fine, he’ll play the game. “Some of the WAG’s are coming as well.”

“Are you really trying to lure me out by promising female company?”

“Is it working?”

“Eh,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Will you pay my tab?”

Charles scoffed. “Pay your tab?” He asked, sounding as if you had asked him for his firstborn. “You’re filthy rich! You have a bigger salary than me!”

“Yeah, they do pay world champions a bit extra, comes with the title.” You replied, grinning at him, a wide teasing grin, your eyes twinkling. 

“Fine whatever, I’ll pay your tab.” He said, raising his hands in surrender. “Now go take that suit off and shower, you look disgusting.”

“You look like a trash can threw you up!”

“It threw me up because it saw you!” Charles shouted back in response, his back already turned to you as he walked away, back to the Ferrari garage. 

And that’s how you ended up in the bar, an hour later. Squished in the not too comfortable and definitely not meant to sit so many people, booth. With George’s girlfriend Carmen on your left, and Pierre’s girlfriend Kika on your right, and deep in conversation with both of them. 

You feel your phone vibrate under your hand on the table, and the screen lights up, showing off your wallpaper, a picture of your beloved cat Nugget.

You tune off from the conversation the moment the message arrives, grabbing your phone and pulling it in towards you. Your face lights up, lips stretching into a smile as your eyes focus on the sender ID. Maxie.

Or rather Max. The very cute guy who was your cat sitter whenever you were out and about in the world, chasing the racing track. 

With a quick move of your fingers, you swipe up, opening your phone and going into the message app. Fingers quickly tapping along the screen of your phone as you type out your reply.

With a smile you closed the messages app, pressing your fingers against the button on the side of your phone, watching the screen go black before setting it face down onto the table. As you looked back up, Lando’s amused yet teasing expression caught your eye.

You leaned forward against the table, pressing your hands to the wooden surface as you attempted to get a bit closer to the driver on the other side of the table. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh nothing,” he said with a laugh. “Just wondering who you’re texting, that’s all.” He intertwined his fingers, elbows pressed against the table and leaned forward as well. “You were all grumpy cat but then you get a message and suddenly you’re all smiles.”

“Grumpy cat?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at the McLaren driver. “I’m not a grumpy cat. And for the record, that was Nugget’s babysitter and he was sending me a picture of Nugget.”

Lando laughs, there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he wants to say more but he holds himself back. “Can I see? I haven’t seen the orange gremlin in so long.”

“That’s very mean,” you say, opening your phone to show him the picture, that Max had sent you. “Nugget would never say that about you.”

“That’s because Nugget can’t speak.” He looks at the screen and his lips twist upward in a smirk. “Who’s Maxie?”

You breathe out through your nose, teeth digging into your bottom lip. When you speak your voice is sharp, it leaves no room for questioning things or an invite to ask more questions. “The cat sitter.”

“I’m sure that’s all he is.” Lando laughs when you show him your middle finger before settling back into your seat and returning to the previously abandoned conversation with the two WAG’s.

The race went pretty smoothly, as always. Starting from pole, keeping the lead the whole race and with a 20s gap to car in P2. Everything after that was pretty much a blur, the interviews, partying through the night with the grid and boarding the jet early in the morning.

The sun already started setting by the time you made it to Monaco. With a sigh you rummaged through your bag, blindly feeling around the stuff inside before your fingers finally wrapped around the keys.

Opening the apartment door you walked inside, gently laying down your suitcase as your eyes settled on the scene in your living room. Right there, laying on your couch, in deep sleep, and cuddling your cat is Max Verstappen. 

His hair had fallen over his eyes and the position he’s in looks rather uncomfortable, you’re sure his body will be aching when he wakes up. His chest was raising and falling with each breath he took, little sighs slipping past his lips. Nugget was cuddled up to him, curled in a ball.

You looked at him for a few moments before starting to move around as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake him up. 

Max had been cat sitting for you for a while now. Half of last season and now half of this one so almost a year. He was a sweet, kinda shy, mostly nerdy guy you ran into in a coffee shop and spilled his coffee. You offered to buy him a new one and he joined you for the coffee and you got to talking when he said he was looking for a job so you offered him to become your pet sitter.

At that point you really did need someone to look after your cat while you were gone, since you had broken up with your ex who usually took care of Nugget while you were away. And you couldn’t leave Nugget with your parents since your father was allergic to cats.

Now, your best friend who had been working in a different country had returned to Monaco and said she’d be more than happy to look after Nugget - but you wanted to keep Max around. 

Already having grown used to coming home after a race weekend to find him there, just existing in your space.

Nugget’s whiskers twitch, his eyes opening and he pulls himself away from Max, stretches out and then trots over to you, rubbing his head against your leg affectionately while purring. He let out a happy, albeit a bit too loud, meow when you picked him up and on the other side of the room Max began stirring from his sleep.

He opened his eyes, a bit confused, and rubbed his knuckles against his eyes to wake up, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light filling up the room. 

“You’re back,” he says, his voice is gentle, still sleepy and a bit quiet. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a sweet smile that has you immediately smiling back at him. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry about that.”

“Oh no, it’s no problem,” you reply, running your hand over Nugget’s fur as the cat lay happily in your arms. “You can use the guest bedroom if you’re tired, you know. The couch may be expensive but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable for sleep.”

“I didn’t want to overstep,” Max said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. You approached the couch and sat down, the cat nestling in your lap and purring in content. Max smiled, reaching out his hand and petting Nugget.

“Nonsense Max, you’re not overstepping.” You cut him off, leaving no room for argument. You always told him to feel at ease in your apartment, that he was welcome to any food in the fridge and free to use the guest room as he pleased but even after all this time there was still a slight air of awkwardness backed up by the fear of going a bit too far.

Max’s eyes settled on you, your own focused on your cat so you didn’t notice him looking. He watched the way you cooed at Nugget, asking if he was a good boy while you were away and petting him gently, and his lips stretched into a small, careful smile.

He spoke before thinking. The words left his mouth before he even finished the thought inside of his head. “I watched the race,” he said, and your eyes instantly snapped up to meet his. He swallowed, already too deep to back down. “It - “ he licked his lips, trying to decide his next words, feeling like his tongue had tied itself up in a knot. “You were spectacular. It was lovely … simply lovely.”

You let out a breath, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards and you gave him a thankful look. Max swore he could feel his heart beating in his throat, and felt his cheeks heat up. “Thank you,” you said, your voice gentle, holding a comforting tone. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. And it’s nice - knowing you watched.”

“It is?”

You bit your lip, teeth scraping against you bottom lip as you looked at him, your brain running faster than the Sauber (like it’s hard) as you tried to come up with a response. “It’s kind of comforting,” you finally said, after what felt like a small forever.

You hummed, looking down at your nails. “I was thinking about bringing Nugget with me to the next race. It’s been a while since he was in the paddock.”

“Oh,” Max said, an edge of confusion noticeable in the tone of his voice. “Does that mean that you don’t need me coming over next week?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would come with.” You say, before you can talk yourself out of making the proposition.

Max tilts his head to the side, kind of like a confused cat and you try your best not to giggle at the mental image. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

“If you wanted to attend the Grand Prix,” you tell him, running the edge of one of your nails along your skin. “Cuz’ I’m still gonna need someone to look after Nugget, and you do that in general so this would just be an added bonus of traveling.”

Max is silent for a few moments and you think he’ll decline. You wouldn't fully blame him if he did, you know what the pressure of the paddock can be like. You’re about to open your mouth, tell him that ‘never mind, it was a stupid idea anyway’ and put him out of the trouble of finding a polite way to decline when he finally speaks. 

“I suppose, if you want me to then yeah, I’ll come along to watch Nugget.” He says, trying to ignore the nervous feeling building up in his chest when you smile at him, a wide happy smile that makes him instantly smile back.

“Great!” You said, the excitement evident in your voice. “Someone from the team will contact you in a while to arrange the tickets and leave the rest to me.” Max nods, he doesn’t trust himself to speak, not with the way his throat is closing up and it makes him feel like he can’t breathe.

“Look at you all giggly,” Charles teased, gently pushing your shoulder with his hand. He wiggled his eyebrows, a laugh slipping past his lips as you glared at him.

“Charles, why don’t you turn around and flash your pretty face to the crowd.” You said, rolling your eyes. You looked at the stadium full of people who were shouting out for their favorite drivers, waving banners and cheering happily. You smiled towards the stadium and lifted your hand up, waving your fingers to the public. “Give them a wave.”

“See, I always knew you thought I was pretty,” Charles replied, waving at the public. The two of you and the rest of the grid were in a wagon, going around the track for the drivers parade, so essentially you were stuck with him for at least five more minutes. “Now, do tell who’s got you smiling like that.”

“Is it Maxie?” Lando asked, the teasing tone evident in his voice. He pushed himself closer to you and Charles, inserting himself into the conversation. 

“Didn’t your mom teach you not to eavesdrop?” 

“No, no!” Charles said, shaking his head as he waved his hand dismissively as you, his full attention now focused on Lando. “Who’s Maxie?”

Lando smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “The cat sitter,” he said in a sing-song kind of voice. 

“The one you brought to your garage?” The Ferrari driver asked, his attention back on you. “The pretty one.”

“Hold up!” Lando almost shouted, raising his hands. “You brought him with you to the Grand Prix?!”

“I didn’t … well I did bring him.” You said with a sigh, there was no escaping this now. “But it’s not like that. He’s here to watch Nugget.”

“And for you to watch him - because boy that is one good arm candy.”

“Charles, your homosexual is showing,” you warned.

“But you’re not denying it,” Charles noted, giving you a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him but finally gave in. “Yes, I’m not denying it.”

You stepped back into the motor home, your eyes immediately searching for Max and finally you found him talking to your lead engineer. As you approached the two you could start to hear their conversation and quickly realized they were talking about how the car worked and what went on behind the scenes at a Grand Prix. You found it cute that Max was interested in that.

His eyes met yours and his face lit up, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards into a smile. “You’re back!” He said, “After terrorizing everyone around and getting pets, Nugget decided to settle down for a nap. He’s in your driver's room.”

Max gave you a wink after saying that and you had to hold in a giggle. You excused yourself to go to your driver’s room, with Max following behind you. The first thing you noticed when you went inside was Nugget, curled up on the massage bed and sleeping without a care.

The next thing that grabbed your attention was a dozen pastries lined up on a small table next to the couch. They were all individually wrapped in tissues.

“Max,” you said, picking up one of the pastries and unwrapping it. “I really did mean only one pastry, you know?” You bit into the chocolate filled pastry, moaning at the taste of a treat you weren’t usually allowed to have when it was race week. “My trainer will strangle me if he sees.”

“I swear, no one saw anything.” Max said, shuffling over to the couch and sitting down. “I was sneakier than Nugget when he’s stealing my food.”

“Oh, now that’s a very serious claim.” You told him with a laugh, his own laugh echoing back. You picked up one of the wrapped pastries and offered it to him. “Take one, or five. There’s no way I’m eating it all.”

He takes the pastry you’re offering him, his fingers brushing against your own as he takes it from your hand, sending sparks of electricity down your spine. After a second of hesitation you sit down next to him, the two of you eating the treats in comfortable silence.

His thigh nudges against yours and you turn to face him, finding that he’s already looking at you. He smiles and you don’t hesitate to smile back.

The practices go great, P2 in FP1, P1 in FP2 and P1 in FP3. 

The qualifying is where a slight setback shows up, with quali being ended early due to a crash and a red flag, putting you in P10 for the start of the race tomorrow.  

Once the car had rolled back into the pits you wasted no time getting out, putting the steering wheel back into place before storming into your driver’s room. 

You pulled your helmet off, fingers curling into the bottom of your balaclava as you pulled it off, throwing it next to your helmet before bringing your hands up to smooth down your hair. 

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Pepe.” You said without turning around, assuming it was your race engineer coming to talk about the outcome of qualifying. “Fucking Lance and his fucking money made seat - if that little frog screws up another quali, I’ll be the one crashing him out.”

“I’m not Pepe,” the other person in the room says and you instantly turn around, your eyes wide as they meet Max’s blue ones. “And I’m certainly glad I’m not Lance.”

You looked him up and down, eyes trailing over his figure. You took notice of Nugged, cuddled up in his arms and looked at you curiously, and reached your hand out to pet the cat, a long breath slipping past your lips. 

“Sorry,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “I didn’t really mean for you to hear that.”

Max barely heard what you were saying. Too distracted by the sight of you for his brain to properly register your words. Your skin was slightly glistening with sweat, an imprint from where your helmet and balaclava had dug into your skin still visible on your flushed cheeks. Your messy hair, and your chest raising and falling with each breath you took as you were still working on catching up your breath.

Max blinked, finally snapping out of his thoughts and focusing his attention back to what you were saying. “They should have let you finish the lap.” 

“I agree but sadly that’s not how it works.”

Max nodded along, not really knowing what to say to that so he switched to the next topic. “I ran into your friend. He invited you, and me, out for drinks. I think it would be nice to go, you seem like you need a drink.”

“Yeah, I definitely do.” You replied, taking Nugget from his arms and into your own, stroking down the cat’s body. “Which friend?”

“Uh,” Max started, thinking of a way to describe the guy since he couldn’t remember his name. “Wears red, pretty, sounds French.”

You laughed, smiling at him. “That’s Charles. I hope you didn’t tell him he sounds French, he gets offended by that.”

“Then it’s great I kept it to myself.”

You laughed in reply, putting Nugget down to the floor, the cat immediately moving to a cozy corner and curling up into a ball on the floor, shutting his eyes. “The hotel is right next to the track, you can take Nugget back while I shower and then we can go - if you want to.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Max replied with a smile.

You showered and put on a clean set of clothes just in time to meet Max after he finished dropping Nugget back to the hotel, leaving him with toys, food and water. The two of you made your way to the bar to join the rest of the grid for a night out. 

Some of the drivers were playing pool while their girlfriends were engrossed in a conversation so that left you and Max sitting together, sharing drinks and talking.

“I just …” you started, cracking your fingers. “I don’t know, this quali really messed up my mood and I was riding on such a high after the practices going well. It all feels shit now.”

“Maybe you just need more motivation for the race.” Max offered, drinking the rest of the liquor from his glass in one go. 

“You have something in mind, Maxie?” You asked, the nickname slipping past your lips without a thought now that you’ve had a few drinks. 

“How about a kiss if you get on the podium?” He said, his voice suggestive. Normally he never would have dared to say something like that but the alcohol courage really worked wonders. 

Your eyes widened, clearly not expecting him to be so bold or to suggest that. He took your reaction as a bad sign, immediately straightening up as a wave of dread quickly sobered him up.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, the expression on his face shifting into a panicked one. “That was stupid. It was thoughtless. It was -”

“A great motivation,” you cut him off, putting a finger up against his lips to silence him. “It was a great motivation.”

His cheeks burned as his eyes met yours. He looked so vulnerable, his bright eyes impossibly wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“One more corner to go but you’re in the clear,” Pepe’s voice echoed over the radio. You blinked, your eyes focused on the track before you, the checkered flag already visible along with your team gathering in the front. “That’s P1, Y/n. Phenomenal drive today, you deserved it!”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice breathless as you moved your hands, going through the last corner and speeding towards the finish line. “Thank you, Pepe.” You repeated, swallowing your spit. “It was lovely, simply lovely.”

You put the car into P1, getting out and posing for a picture on top of your car. You could hear the shouts, the cheers, the celebration. You took off your helmet, ripping off your balaclava and putting them both into the car before turning around to face the team, eyes searching for a particular face. 

Finally, you spotted Max. Standing besides your engineer, a proud expression on his face as he looked at you with a wide smile. You didn’t hesitate, feet moving before you could think and then you were in front of him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down, smashing your lips into his.

The kiss was desperate, both of having waited long enough for it. He wrapped his arms around you, the best he could with the fence between you, kissing you back with need. 

You finally pulled away when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, learning your forehead against his. Nothing else mattered, not the public, not the team, not the celebration. Only him, finally yours.

“Simply lovely, right?” You asked, your voice breathless.

“Simply lovely!” Max repeated back to you, before kissing you once again. And he really did mean it - everything was simply lovely.

tag list: @formula1-motogpfan @misty-inferno @thelemonque3n @marvel-hotchner @strangemaximoff @folkloresreputation @pippyth3hippy @adharacambridge @theseerbetweenus @sebastianstansblog @tellybearryyyy @six-call @grussellsprout @oikarma @justcharlotte @annimausi

i hope i tagged everyone who said they wanted to be on the tag list. hope you enjoyed this one and keep an eye out for the poll about the next part of the series <3

[bramblebeau]

Alright I told myself I wouldn't interact with fandom when s2 came out, and I haven't and don't plan to except to say this about people deciding Caitlyn is the Worst or that the writing is OOC.

As someone who has had a family member violently killed, I cannot stress how much it shakes up everything you thought you were and stood for. My beliefs in proportionate compassionate justice and the rights of all human beings are some of the strongest I have (stronger now because of the way that experience affected me personally), but they were pushed to the absolute limit when it came to an individual who had killed my loved one, showed no remorse, and laughed in our faces outside court, among other things.

People generally like to believe it wouldn't be them or their peace-loving family members being talked down from seriously considering violent revenge, consequences be damned. People like to believe they wouldn't lash out at people closest to them under that pressure, that they wouldn't build walls around the kindest and most sensitive parts of themselves because those parts are the ones feeling pain you never thought possible, that they wouldn't stalk the killer, make notes on all their family and friends, and fuck up their hands punching walls in anger wishing so badly it was flesh and bone because they can't handle the fact that there's no way to turn back time to stop it all from happening. People like to think they're "better" than that. But the reality is messy and painful as hell.

With Caitlyn, she has the added guilt of having actually had the opportunity to stop Jinx before she fired the rocket, but she hesitated just long enough for it to result in the deaths of her mother and other councillors and in the cities being plunged into chaos. Not only that, but the person close to her she's lashing out at is the person who caused her to hesitate, and just so happens to be the sister of the killer.

Furthermore, her behaviour is entirely in character. We have seen her set up as someone who becomes obsessed with achieving a goal and will do pretty much anything she wants to get there. In S1, we agreed with her methods because her goal was exposing and taking down Silco, and because it led to Vi being released. In S2, she's doing a similar thing but it's fuelled by fear and a type of pain she doesn't know how to deal with, rather than being fuelled by a need to prove herself and solve a case, and it leads to her making morally questionable decisions and to hurting Vi. She admits herself, albeit privately to Vi, that she does not know what she's doing and doesn't know how to fill this hole in her chest (and the hole in the city leadership). She has been sheltered from the real world for almost all her life, and as a result she has no experience of functioning or making decisions under this kind of pressure. The real world blew up in her face in the worst way and she was given power and a loaded rifle, and then shoved into an even more elevated position by a very experienced warlord who is manipulating the shit out of the whole situation.

I'm not saying that you have free rein to hurt people when you're grieving and facing extreme stress. (If you think that's what I'm saying then idk I'm not sure there's much hope for you in terms of critical thinking skills). What I'm saying is that Caitlyn is exhibiting pretty normal human behaviour that most people would be susceptible to in those circumstances, not the behaviour of someone who is some kind of heartless abusive bastard.

TLDR: Caitlyn is being written in a way that completely makes sense and is also not OOC, and if someone told me there would be no chance of them reacting in similar ways I simply would not believe them.

[anyroads]

This is great and all but I need people to understand that it took Republicans almost 3/4 of a CENTURY to undo the labor rights and anti-trust laws FDR and his Congress enacted because they embedded them so well in the country's legal system.

And that was because FDR wasn't just president, he had a Democratic Congress - both House and Senate - to work with.

If you take anything away from this post, I hope it's that the President isn't enough on their own. You need to vote, and you need to vote down ballot. There's another Congressional election in 2 years, as there always is. It will matter if the Senate flips. Right now Trump has the presidency and the Senate and the Supreme Court. And you know what, I know that some people reading this are going to be the ones who don't want their activism to take real effort. No no, listen, I'm not judging you right now - no one knows you're reading this post, no one knows you're the one who loves armchair activism but doesn't want to actually leave the house or interact with people to actually do any of it. You can request a mail-in ballot online. You can vote without ever leaving the house. No one has to know how you vote, or that you voted at all. Burn the little sticker they give you for all I care. And then do some phone banking. You don't have to go door to door, no one has to know you're helping. But phone bank. Every cause you support does phone banking. Environmental orgs, trans support orgs, civil rights orgs, they all host phone banking before elections, where they give you a script and a list of numbers, and all you have to do is make some calls to people who are already in line with that cause and ask them to go vote.

But fucking vote. Because this post? This is a circle jerk hoping for a last ditch effort of a dying flame that we could have ignited more instead of let go out. And a big reason why is that most people on this hellsite have no understanding of basic civics, including how the US government works, let alone even the most recent history of what that government has done. The president isn't enough. Historically their power has been checked by the other two main branches of government (and who knows how that's about to change). The last time the Democrats had a solid hold of two branches of government - the Presidency and Congress - they changed labor laws and enacted anti-trust laws that led to half a century of the middle class expanding and fair enough pay that a kid working a summer job could buy a car. Now Republicans have all three branches of government (basically everything except the House, whose power can barely check the Senate right now) and want to do the exact opposite with their power. Whatever your activism it, it doesn't stop you from voting, and is useless if no one votes.

joe biden, you stupid fuck. listen to me. Crimes are legal for sitting presidents as long as they’re official actions. Listen: Joe. You have one chance

[alchemistc]

You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.

They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.

And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.

Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.

I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.

My mistake.

Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.

That's not fair. I'm sorry.

The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.

He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.

Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.

Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.

No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.

He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.

He wonders if it had hurt.

Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.

His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.

Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.

His life has meaning, and all that jazz.

Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.

(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)

There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.

The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.

It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.

It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.

When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.

I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.

It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.

And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.

Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)

Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)

He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.

And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -

His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Can we talk?

Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.

Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.

His phone chimes with an incoming call.

Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.

His phone rings again.

"What?"

"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."

Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"

"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."

"Are you driving right now?"

"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"

Buck gets stuck on fifth time.

There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.

Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.

"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."

Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."

"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."

He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."

Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.

(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)

The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.

He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.

He looks like shit.

"You look like shit."

Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.

"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."

Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.

Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"

Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.

"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -

"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.

[venusincleo]

Time. [Aaron Pierre]

Warnings: MDNI • Explicit • Aaron Pierre x Black!Reader, teasing, slight edging, oral & fingering (fem receiving), DDLG kink/BDSM, slight?switch aaron, self!insert, close third POV and more...

Summary: You and Aaron have been in a long distance relationship for three months, as you reside in your cozy home in Seattle, and he stays in Los Angeles for work. Only ever having a quick day trip for quality time between your busy schedules, a long awaited break comes up on both of your calendars; three days and two nights at the end of a long week. Finally having the opportunity to see each other face to face, you enjoy a weekend of deeper, more intimate moments.

Word Count: 5.3k [I got carried away.🧍🏾‍♀️]

A/N: Part Two maybe?... let me know 🫣

• • •

Glasses clink between the four beings at the table, smiles and knowing looks move along each face as you gaze at your closest friends. Jade-green, feline eyes stared at you through natural black lashes, examining your demeanor as you commented on the subject of conversation; your Alma Mater’s recent Homecoming. He wasn’t that interested in the topic to be frank. 

Aaron was originally reluctant to agree to the nightcap, but when you insisted that the people you were closest to wanted to meet him, he felt the need to oblige you. He would get you to himself soon enough.

The ambivalence he held toward the conversation didn’t stop him from listening when you spoke, memorizing the words as if he would suddenly understand the intricacies of such a place like an HBCU. 

His eyes move away from your face as he settles into his seat, and his attention goes to the atmosphere of the jazzy establishment. The penthouse lounge was airy and spacious, mimicking the deep blue night, with its own stars to match. The celestial chandeliers lit the bar in the very middle of the large room romantically, with dim lamps atop each table that could put anything in a golden light. 

“And why would they ever put Beyoncé on the flyer? We know she ain’t gon’ be there! Put the actual performers.” Your sister Valerie added, shaking her head as she sipped on her lemon drop. You weren't blood related in any sense, but she was your ride-or-die by all means. 

You purse your lips at her comment knowingly, and take a sip of your wine.

“Girl, you know they love to act like they ain’t got no money. So, they’re baiting the people who are gullible enough to buy the ticket off the strength of her face chile.” Val nods quickly and points at you in agreement, a quick ‘Yup’ leaving her lips. Your other friend, Ryan, laughs at your interaction and shakes his head.

“And that’s why I ain't going. Spelhouse is having Ari Lennox and…”

“We know how you feel about Ari Lennox.” You and Valerie say in unison, teasing your longtime friend. He shrugs his shoulders unashamed of his near obsession, and Val laughs while she turns toward Aaron’s stoic form.

“Who’ you been listening to, Aaron?” She directs the conversation to him, and he looks straight at her with his answer ready on his lips.

“Oh, I’m more of a Sade type of guy.” The London accent infused in his soft tone causes you to look up at him, the wine affecting your every sense. As your eyes reach his side profile, you can’t help but to examine him from the top of his black curls down to his pretty face and then his plump pink lips. He continued to talk about his playlist and you were just…stuck. 

How could someone look and sound so sexy while talking about music artists? It definitely helped that you were an all-encompassed music lover, and couldn’t do much without a song in the background. You loved that the both of you connected over that, and it made you listen even more whenever he spoke about a new song or album he was getting into. 

“Honestly Y/N put me on to a lot of what’s in my rotation right now.” When you hear your name, you nearly snap out of your daze but then his eyes meet yours and you blink back the need to compliment him as nastily as you thought you should. He can see the growing lust in your eyes and a small smile rises to his lips for the first time tonight, one of his hands reaching your lap.

“I’m honing his ear, ya’ll.” You joke, pulling your eyes away from him. Any more staring and you would turn into a puddle right there. Valerie laughs slightly, and begins to go on about a  recent album she really loved while the man beside you zones in on your mannerisms.

Even as the conversation trudges on, Aaron recognizes your slight avoidance, something you made a habit of when he started to really turn you on. Maybe you didn’t want to seem too forward, or you were refraining for yourself. Either way, he understood because he was similar to you in that way. He never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable in your expression with him; sexual or otherwise.

But, he almost couldn’t help himself, his hand squeezing at your plush thigh through your silk dress. A breath hitches in your throat and you glance at him, the warmth of his hand through the fabric on your skin a bit too much to bear in your inebriation. As you lay your hand over his, he turns his head to look in your eyes and a jump reaches your core. All you can think of is what it would be like to have his veined hand up your dress and inside of your panties, soothing the hardened bulb between your thighs.

You can barely move, completely intoxicated by your thoughts and the man who was staring directly into your soul, seemingly watching them with you. 

From across the table, Ryan pays attention to the alluring energy between you and your man, the sexual tension horribly intense. Heat rises in his face as he thinks of the possibility that you and Aaron may become more serious than he had hoped.

He’s not the first man to come around. He thought. But when he saw the way you two spoke to each other with no words between you, fear rose in his heart that maybe –just maybe– Aaron would be the last. Your last first. 

Ryan’s fingers tap lightly against the bare wooden table, and then, he clears his throat to try and break your concentration. Seeing the both of you unphased, his bruised ego heightens his audacity, and he speaks.

“So… how does this work? Her love language is physical touch and ya’ll are never together.” He directs his question to Aaron but both of your eyes break contact to look at Ryan simultaneously. Your hands don’t leave one another’s for a moment as you take in his question.

“She has one of my sweaters that she sleeps with.” Instinctively, you run one of your manicured hands up his arm, squeezing at the toned muscle of his bicep as he replies to your friend. “We make sure we don’t miss a beat on communication…And then we plan visits like this.”

“But is that enough?” Ryan doesn’t process the answer at all. “What if she absolutely needs a hug? Then all she has is us like she’s always had…” Valerie sips on her drink silently now, thinking that Ryan is just being an interrogative friend. You could feel the venom in his questions though, and even in your struggle to figure out what it was, he seemed to have a point he wanted to make.

“Or, what if she needs some? She’s all lonely at home and you're at work, states away.” Your face begins to contort with confusion at his question, unease settling in from his suggestive tone. Why the hell would he be thinking about that?

Before you can even wrap your mind around the moment, Aaron’s arm stiffens in your hand, and you look up at his face to see a clench in his jaw. He takes a deep breath, and releases it in a soft sigh, which seems to calm him a little. But the comfort that he previously had never returns to the table.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but…” He runs a hand over his facial hair as he hesitates with his answer, not wanting to put your business out there. But truly, the only person at the table who didn’t know the answer was Ryan.

“She calls me.” 

Flashes of just one of you and Aaron’s horny FaceTime calls fill your mind, and you look away from his face quickly. Your whole body is hot with the continued memory of hearing his breathy groans mixed with the light squelching of his large hand around his shaft, pulling to his oblivion for only your eyes to see.

“And…what?” As Ryan pushes and pries for more of your intimate relationship details, you finally sit up from your comfortable lean in your seat and look him in the eyes.

“Ryan, that’s enough!” Your voice raises just a bit as you assert your lamentation. “None of this is any of your concern… What the fuck is wrong with you?” You tilt your head to the side as an attitude fills your body. 

“To be honest, it’s quite obvious that you wanted to be the answer to all of your questions.” Aaron squints his eyes in Ryan’s direction and you can feel anger breathing down your neck.

You looked down at the table as you tried to breath through this emotion, but you just felt…blindsided. A friendship that you held on to for so many years…and now it was obvious that there were possibly secret feelings brewing this whole time. 

Valerie can feel the heat radiating off of you, and she knows that it’s only a matter of time before you snap. 

“Hey, Y/N, I think this is just a misunderstanding.” She tries to talk you down but you don’t even meet her eyes, you are so livid. 

“Ryan, maybe you should apologize.” Val turns to her friend, who she is also shocked by at the moment. Her limbs are static at the awkward silence that has fallen between all of you.

“Aaron, I’m ready to go.” You alert him, and almost instantly, your gentle giant is rising from his seat to fulfill your request. His large hand is held out for you to take, and you do so, following him out of the lounge and into the elevator that would take you to the lobby on the ground floor.

• • •

Finally in your car, Aaron is still tense from the unexpected interaction with your college friend. He was under the impression that your folks would have had a positive view on you guy’s relationship, but he stood corrected. With about twenty minutes left on the drive back to your place, you both had a bit of time to process the conversation.

“He’s mouthy.” Aaron complains as he sits comfortably in the driver’s seat of your car, which was still adjusted for his tall frame. His gravelly voice feigned apathy but you could just tell that he was not happy. 

“I’m sorry about him. I’ve never seen him so…overprotective.” You try to wrap your mind around the possibility that Ryan could have felt whatever he was feeling towards you for all of the years that you had been friends. But nothing seems to truly make sense.

Just as your words registered in your man’s mind, his attention averted from the road in front of him and he turned his head in your direction.

“If that’s what you call overprotective…He’d been asking invasive ass questions all night. I’m surprised he even let you leave.” He expressed, his shoulders slightly raised with the tension in his words. Your eyes squint at his charming face as you realize what he said. Let me?

“And what is that supposed to mean?” You ask. Straight-forward. You seldom ever disagreed with Aaron, but this time he was hinting at something that was already working your nerves.

With a deep breath, Aaron can sense the tone in your voice, and he mentally curses himself for getting you even a little riled up. 

“I’m just saying,” He begins, his voice steady as it was when you saw him for the first time earlier today. “I think he has a thing for you.” 

As his calm words filter through your mind, you venture into your memories to think of the dynamic you’ve had with your friend. He was the first one you made on your Alma Mater’s campus, and a writer, just like you but in a bit of a different way. A journalist. You always had such a close knit relationship; you shared your best laughs and biggest dreams with Ryan. 

But then, you realize how you’ve never seen him with anybody. Not one romantic interest. 

You had originally thought that was because of his workaholic tendencies, but today’s events had you thinking differently. He did seem a little territorial at the lounge. A sigh leaves your lips as you try to put these new thoughts out of your mind and then you rethink a point you wanted to make to the strong-willed man beside you.

“And let’s get one thing straight.” Aaron gives you a glance as he continues to focus on the road, but your eyes stay on him as you speak. “You can be jealous, that’s human. But nobody ‘lets me’ do anything.” The attitude eases off of your lips effortlessly for it being the first time you beckoned it with him. But it doesn’t seem to phase him too much, he just fixes his full lips to agree. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

The rest of your ride is smooth and quiet. A mumble of a tune can be heard from the low-playing radio station, and the heat is on just enough to push the cold of the budding fall night away. 

When you get to your apartment, neither of you say a word, but you wait for him to get to your door just like you had all day. Aaron promptly grabs the handle of the passenger side, and you get out of the seat gracefully, steadying your Saint Laurent heels on the concrete beneath you. Your hand instinctively reaches for his bicep as he closes your door and he leads you up to your apartment.

Warmth allows you to settle into your space, and you ease into your kitchen as you have many times before. Your hand reaches into your cupboard for two rose-tinted wine glasses, which are free of any stem, and you set them on your island as you turn to your refrigerator. From the enclosed appliance, you grab your favorite wine and pull at the already opened cork.

Aaron watches you intently, hoping you’ll say something, anything to break the silence.

“You want some?” You gesture the chilled bottle in front of your chest and he gazes at you with a tingling fascination. 

“Yes, please.” He answers you surely, and you resort to pouring both of you an even glass of the deep red alcohol. As you round out his glass, Aaron chuckles to himself and you peer up at his light eyes to catch his thoughts.

“Love is complicated, huh?” He grins boyishly in your direction, his lips raising over his bright teeth as he waits for your agreement.

“Mm.” You hum contrarily and turn on your heels to put the empty bottle of wine on the counter next to your fridge for later disposal. When you face Aaron again, you wrap your hand around your glass and bring it close to your lips.

“Well, I only want you.” You take a sip of your sweet, warm-noted delicacy and continue looking at your man. “It doesn’t get much simpler for me than that.” The tall specimen before you takes a large gulp of his wine, and your eyes dilate instantly as he licks the brief stain of the alcohol from his pink lips.

“Agreed.” 

Hoping to hide the growing lust in your eyes, you raise your glass and drink again, and Aaron watches you this time. His eyes scan you closely, picking up on the heightened speed that your chest rises and falls. Naturally, his focus shifts to your breasts, down the valley between them and then to both nipples, which are hardening by the second with your arousal. 

You set the half-empty glass down on the counter in front of you, and his lovely green eyes mimic the clear waters of a tropical island as they dart back up to yours. Deep, soulful brown eyes stare back at him as you take in a deep breath and release it through your nose. Quickly, Aaron walks around the island counter to meet you, his wine still in hand. Without missing a beat, he follows your steps as you turn around to watch his next movements, both of you toe to toe now.

As your pretty orbs peer up at him widely, his large, kept hand finds its way to your face. A delicate caress of his thumb against your cheek sends a trembling breath from between your lips, and heat rises in your face at the contact. Wanting to wait no longer, Aaron trails his gaze down to your mouth, and seamlessly places his over yours.

The kiss was molasses on your lips; slow, sweet, warm. He confidently parted the edges of his pucker to make way for his tongue, prompting you to do the same and graze him in a lovely tale of destiny. The taste of wine only deepened the thump of the pulse between your thighs, and soon you could feel the moisture pooling in your laced Victoria Secret thongs again. 

Aaron kissed you like he was giving you a gift. As if he wanted you to remember every detail. His attention to the kiss made you a complete mess, breathless in the very best way. And once he pulled back from you, your lowered eyes gave you away instantly. 

Curious eyes guided his pointer finger to the space under the spaghetti strap of your left shoulder, and as he readied himself to pull it off, he paused and placed a kiss along your heated skin. 

“Is this okay?” He asks, looking up at you vividly. You nod quickly, a sharp inhale lacing your lips, and then, your word.

“Yes…” Near to a whisper, but audible to his seeking ear. Another second and he took both straps from your shoulders, watching as the silk fabric folded atop itself, then stopped at the round of your d-cup breasts. An index finger between your breasts is all he uses to pull the plunge down even more, revealing your bare bosom. His mouth waters at the sight of your perfect tits and he reaches for one, squeezing at the pillowy flesh. 

Finally, his thick tongue meets your sensitive skin and his lips wrap around your nipple to suck at it passionately. A breath hitches in your throat as you feel his mouth deliver a soft pleasure, and though you want to moan you bite at your lip to muffle the sound. The vibration of your vocal cords alerts Aaron to keep going, and he pops your breast from between his lips to give some attention to the other. 

This time you can’t contain yourself and you allow a whimper to escape your mouth, then you bring a hand to the back of Aaron’s head to guide him on. With swirling eyes, he stares up into your lowered ones, and outlines your areola with his tongue before he enveloped the bulb with his lips once more. 

Then, he raised his face back parallel to yours and delivered a silken peck to your lips. His eyes taunted you as he stepped away from your blazen body, looking you up and down in your initial ruin.

“Finish your wine.” 

Your hand couldn’t move quick enough as you grabbed your glass from its place on the counter behind you. Three swift gulps ended the drink off abruptly, and Aaron smiled at your zeal, but that didn’t stop him from taking slow gulps of his lasting alcohol to keep the night at his pace. 

Once he guzzles the very last drop from your pretty wine glass he sets it down right next to the one you just finished. Then, he holds out his hand for you, which you dotingly fulfill, allowing him to lead you to your bedroom. 

Steady steps into your dark room prompts Aaron to feel along the wall for your light switch, flicking it on when he finds it. Your eyes fall upon your perfectly made bed, and then your mind travels to the thought of it disheveled due to your pleasure.

Aaron releases your hand, and stands before you with eyes that know exactly what he wants.

"Take off your dress."

Another demand that you answered with absolutely no protest. Eager hands pulled down your silk slip dress, and as it fell around your heels, Aaron began to crouch before you. One of his gentle hands wraps around your calve and the other moves your dress from the space around your feet.

Free from hazard, he lifts one of your feet cautiously, and you steady yourself on his shoulders as he uses a thumb to push the strap of the heel down. Slowly, intentionally, he takes your shoes off, and plants several feather-light kisses on your calves and up your thighs.  

A gasp leaves your lips as you feel his mouth decorating your skin with small declarations of desire. His gentle hands then trail up the back of your legs as he raises to a standing position, then he takes his hands from your body altogether. 

Withdrawal was an understatement. You didn’t expect to be so out of it, so quickly. But his touch. Oh, his touch. And those eyes? Gahdamn.

“D’you remember the safe word we came up with?” His husky voice taunts you, calls to your core with a siren song no one has ever sung before. Just him. 

You’re a little too shook to even answer him, and very quickly he recognizes that he already has you where he wants you. A cocky grin curls at his lips and he brings a hand to your chin to get your attention.

“Huh, princess?” You blink slowly, and then nod as the word comes to the forefront of your brain from one of those infamous FaceTimes.

“Mars.” He looks over your flushed face, and then lets your chin go as he takes a step back.

“Mhm. And what did I tell you to call me?” His large hands reach under his shirt to unbuckle his belt and your eyes follow his quick and certain movements. 

“Papa, Dada or Sir.” He wraps his crisp leather belt around his hand, and your eyes dart from the thick fabric to his eyes, that are already looking over at you. 

“Our main rules?”

“Never say no to Papa, only yes, not ‘yeah’. No back talk unless told otherwise. No touching myself without permission.” 

Aaron nods his head to your correct recollection of the rules you both agreed on and his Chelsea boots click against the floor as he navigates to his bag that is sitting on your dresser. Quietly, he shuffles through a burgundy satin drawstring bag, and your curiosity is piqued when he grabs something from the bag then sets it down along with his belt. 

“I don’t intend to try too much tonight,” He began, holding up a pair of vegan leather cuffs that you told him you were eyeing after an intense conversation about DDLG play. “But I did bring these.” 

Your breathing picks up at the thought of him placing those leather cuffs around your wrists and having his way with you. So sweetly, so softly. And then so deep that you can barely take a full breath. You bite your lip absentmindedly and he takes heed of your tell, bringing them over to your bed before he stands in front of you again.

“We’ll leave those for later.” He acknowledged tossing them behind you. As your chocolate brown eyes peer up at him in anticipation, he can’t help but look over your beautiful face, and then your curvaceous body. His skin continued to heat up with the thought of finally touching you the way he knew you wanted, and the sounds that you would make when you felt all that he wanted you to feel. 

Hurried hands rush to the hem of his shirt, and he pulls the true black fabric off of his body, letting it fall to the floor as he brings himself close to you. Those same hands pull you into his hold, tenderly, allowing your chests to meet in an almost overwhelming warmth. At this point your panties are soaking wet, and your throbbing cunt has become the default for whenever you are in Aaron’s presence. 

Just waiting for the word, you bring your arms around his neck, and as your manicured fingers play in the short curls at the nape of his neck, his eyes flutter in delight. One of his spots. His thick shaft fights against his black dress pants, begging to meet you for the first time. You can feel his print press against your abdomen and he breathes harder at the thought of contact. 

As he’s finally ready to put an end to the anticipation, or to begin at least, he brings his face close to yours and allows his lips to tease them for just a second. Warm, wine-ridden breath plays at your lips and nose as your eyes lower even more. But he still doesn’t give in. He wraps a strong hand around your neck, only applying pressure where safe, and then his lips meet the supple skin beside his thumb. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you process his roughness, his soft kisses and his hard dick against you. Sneakily, you bring a dainty hand to the fortress of his pants, feeling just how thick he was through the fabric separating him from you. A moan eases from your throat as you caress him and he hums at the faint sensation.

“Please…” You whisper, knowing that he most likely had a plan for the night, and nervous that you would ruin it. 

“Please what, princess.” He rasps against your skin, as he goes back to delivering torturous kisses. You breathe in a hollow breath, and then answer him.

“Please fuck me, Papa.” Your hand squeezes around his girth through his pants and he stops what he’s doing to look you in your eye. The desperation in your orbs causes him to hum with a grudging remembrance of his list for the night. He wanted so badly to give you what you begged so nicely for. But if he wanted you to have something substantial to hold on to while you were states and hours away, he’d have to stick to his guns.

With a hungry kiss to your yearning lips, he steps back from you and his eyes caress your body.

“Not yet.”

When his eyes finally made their way back to yours he glanced at the bed behind you and gestured for you to move.

“Get on the bed.” A step back was all it took for your legs to meet the cool bedding atop your mattress, and you lower yourself to sit and then lay along your queen-sized bed. 

He stared down at you from his stature, and brought his hands to the front of his pants to unfasten and unzip the closure, his dick protruding over the unzipped edges as he stood there. You watched as he rubbed his large hand over his thickness and your pussy tightened around nothing, causing you to whine at the uncomfortable sensation.

“Pa…” You drag on, getting very weary of this waiting game. Knowing just what you were wanting, Aaron stepped forward and pressed his clothed pelvis against your lace, feeling the give of your damp panties. It didn’t take long for him to reach to the sides of the thin garment, and tug them from your thick thighs, revealing the overwhelming supply of natural lubrication at your entrance. 

Aaron raised the soiled fabric to his nose and his eyes rolled closed as he took in your earthy, sweet scent. A growl exits his vocal cords, and he stuffs the panties in his left pocket, happy to now have a souvenir of his own to keep. 

Kneeling at the edge of your bed, he instantly used his wide tongue to lap up your delicacy. When he had ingested all the sticky elixir that you supplied, he started at making some more. With his mouth open fully, he placed his lips within the well of your labia, sucking on you like there was nothing else he’d rather do. 

His strong hands parted your legs on either side of you, allowing him full access to his new favorite treat. As he caught his rhythm and really got into it, he pulled up to watch a string of his spit follow his tongue away from you, and then he leaned back in to devour you thoroughly.

A throaty moan left your lips as you reached a hand down to his head to encourage him to keep going. Humming against you, he nestles his face in your pussy proudly, sucking and licking to your audible delight.

“Fu-fuck!” Your body begins to tremble in response to his zealous efforts, and though it was instinct to close your legs at such pleasure, Aaron’s strength didn’t really leave that as an option. You squirm underneath his secure hold on you, and he can tell that you’re close as you cry out the sexiest wail of pleasure he’s ever heard. 

To push you even further, he rubs his middle and forefinger into the mess of spit and your slick that he created, and he pushes them into your tightness. Forefinger first, and then both, he strokes straight in a couple times and then he turns his hand upward, using a ‘come hither’ motion. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your spine arches through your upward spiral of pure energy.

“Ohh…” You call out, amongst the ridiculous squelching that is produced from him fingering you so deliberately. Aaron can’t help but to groan at the sounds you make, biting his lip as he gets you all the way to your peak. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, and you open your eyes to meet him, your whimpers driving him wild.

“Mmh. You gon’ cum for me baby?” His English accent falters just a little as he focuses on your nut, and everything that it’s taking to get you there. Before you can even respond, speechless at his skill, Aaron wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking as he strokes his long fingers into your dripping cunt. Your drawn out cry fills the room, and your body shakes at the orgasm that is breaking through you. 

It doesn’t seem to end. The more you dripped onto his fingers, he stroked even more precisely, and the louder your sounds got. At this point you were damn near screaming bloody murder, and you were sure you’d get a not-so-polite knock at your door tomorrow morning. But for now, it felt too good to be quiet. He had to know how good he was doing you, and you’d tell him all night.

Another true climax runs all of the energy you had out of your system, leaving you too weak to protest. But, Aaron seemed to get the hint, noticing the flutter of your eyelids, and limp yet awake body. You thought you’d be able to handle a full night, but you were only finishing fourplay and depleted. What the fuck?

Opting to make himself your personal cleaner for the night, Aaron softly licks away any remnants of your screaming, leg-shaking orgasm and kisses your inner thigh just barely. Your chest heaves up and down as you try and catch your breath, eyes lower than they’d ever been before. 

Seeing you worn out like this made Papa proud, of course. But he was still dealing with a boulder between his legs that he didn’t really want to handle alone. As the gentleman he is though, Aaron raises himself from his kneeling position and climbs on the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around your shivering body. 

Once you feel his warmth, you snuggle into his toned chest, your eyes closed and your mind completely empty. Just as you get comfy though, and begin to drift off into la-la-land, you hear Aaron’s soft resolve in your ear.

“Imma let you rest, but we’re not done, princess.”

• • •

I do not condone any translations, replications or plagarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

[evilslushy]

would you be open to doing bf headcanons for hamzah? they could be sfw and nsfw or just sfw. love ur writing :). <3

BF Headcanons _♡

SFW

i’m a very opinionated person, so asking me about my hamzah headcanons is a FIELD DAY for me

I’ve always said this but I feel like hamzah (in the beginning of the relationship) is very shy? Not in the way of “ignore any possible interaction between you and him” but more of a “ignores eye contact after a kiss” or “blushes when you call him a nickname for the first time”

He acts like he hates when you baby him but behind closed doors… BIGGEST BABY EVERRRR

It took him a while to hold your hand in public, not because he's embarrassed but again because he gets too flustered when you run your thumb up and down against the back of his hand,,, or when you play with his hands in general.

I MENTIONED THIS BEFORE IN FIC BUT HAMZAH IS AN EAR BLUSHER AND HE'S SO CUTE WAA

If you get on his lap and play with his hair while talking about random stuff, and you kiss him out of nowhere HE’LL SMILE THIS BIG SMILE AND COVER HIS EARS IM CRYINGGGGG HES SO CUTE

Speaking of kissing lololol

Hamzah’s kisses are SENSUAL, he takes his time and really makes sure you feel his love

Contrary to popular belief i feel like if you’re with hamzah for long enough his love language becomes physical touch

And i dont say that and mean ONLY kisses but hes such a cuddly person. HE NEEDS THAT TLC HES A BIG BOY

BUT. Big but! He is not the type of person to show affection publicly IM SORRYYY

Holding hands and hugging is fine but i think more intimate things he’d rather do in private…

Not because hes embarrassed as i said, he gets shy at other people perceiving that version of him especially since he isn’t ‘acting’ or ‘joking’

Also he feels like only you deserve to see him like this hehehe

His love language is quality time. Like actually.

His head on your chest, playing stardew valley on his ipad. You watching TV or reading while playing with his curls.

Another form of this is that he’ll ask you to be him and martins cameraman just to have you there with him

Or he’ll ask if you want to try a new coffee shop that opened down the street

He’s a man that likes to be around you 24/7

ALSO ALSO ALSO OMG OMG

HE WOULD SO FORCE YOU TO DO BACKGROUND VOCALS FOR SOME OF HIS MUSIC LIKE THE RAPPERS HE LIKES LMFAO

I dont wanna go on too long with this but one thing is for sure

You’re his princess for REAL treats you like ROYALTY lol

If you guys get into an argument. Even if you’re wrong, he ends up apologizing

“I shouldn’t have let it boil over to this anyway.”

10/10 boyfriend. Totally recommend.

NSFW

SISTA. I HAVE NEVER EVER THOUGHT I’D HAVE THE PLATFORM TO SHARE THESE THOUGHTS BUT I HAVE TO MAKE SURE YALL UNDERSTAND ONE THING!!!!

Hamzah is NAWT a boob or ass guy. HE LIKES BOTH EQUALLY. (He is secretly is ass-leaning tho LMFAO)

This is so funny but he totally is the type to smack your ass randomly when he walks by.

Do you get mad? Yes. Do you tell him to stop it? Yes. Does he stop? No. Do you secretly think it's kinda…? WELL YESSS

TWO WORDS. Boob squeezer.

I think from what we can understand so far. is that Hamzah is the handsy man. HIS HANDS ALWAYS SOMEWHERE LOL

sex drive is for sure high. and when i say high… ITS HIGHHH

Contrary to popular belief AGAIN.

Hamzah doesn’t partake in dirty talk much… not that he doesn't like it—he just wouldn’t in my opinion? It's not that he wouldn’t talk at all, but he is more of a heavy breathing, whimpering, moaning guy—pretty much more noises than actual words

Though as i said, he would talk sometimes, especially if he’s feeling really good, or his stamina is lasting him longer than he thought… he starts getting a little cocky

On the topic of dirty talk, if he does talk, 99.9% of it would be praising, i don't see him enjoying degrading unless you ask him to.. but he’ll be a little awkward about it LMFAOOO

Something like: “fuck, baby you’re taking me so good.”

(Unironically starts actually using good girl after a while of making it a joke btw)

Someone sent a request a few days ago and said “i feel like hamzah has a breeding kink” and why was i gagged?! NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT IT BUT YES, i feel like hes more into the thought filling u with *** then the thought of impregnating you if that makes any sense

Im talking too much… digital footprint go hard.

(A/N): this isnt proofread, i kinda braindumped but i had fun doing this!! Thank u anon for the request I HOPE U LOVE THIS CUTIE MWAAAAHH

[nowaytoheaven2]

you spent most of your time in your room/alone, not because you wanted to, but because it was the safest thing to do

you had to worry about whether you’d be able to eat safely that day, or if you’d be met with insults, attacks and/or being chased away from food

you wanted to inflict harm onto yourself and felt it was normal to want to harm you

you inflicted harm onto your body

you spent a long time having imaginary conversations in your head where you tried to prove somehow that you were not as bad as everyone make it seem, or that someone cares about you

you sank into obsessions in order to get thru whatever was going on

you felt as if you were barely making it thru, and if there was just one more thing you’d have to deal with, you wouldn’t be able to take it

you had wild fantasies about someone taking you away from all of this and taking you somewhere safe where you wouldn’t be despised

you never felt at home, you felt like you didn’t have a home

you looked for every possible place to hide, in order to feel safe for a little while, both to keep your enjoyment secret and in case of a danger, you needed to have a hiding place

you were scared of all of your enjoyment being taken away the second people found out

you had to spend more time doing chores or taking care of others, than you could spend developing your own friendships and life

you felt inexplicably and endlessly lonely, you dreamed of one day having friends and it felt unreachable, impossible, like asking for too much

you never cried, or hid when you cried, feeling ashamed and weak

you over-indulged into a tv show, or a computer game, or a piece of media, to the point where it didn’t feel like you lived at all unless you were interacting with it

sometimes the insults and the shaming you endured got to you to the point where you believed things would be better if you didn’t exist

you were constantly trying to check if your parents actually cared for you or not, and took any tiny hint of attention, even negative attention, as a possible proof that they might care, but you could never know for sure which it was

you were scared of getting abandoned, getting kicked out of the house, getting left on the street, you even tried to plan what you would do if it happened

you had moments when you felt like the worst person to ever live

you thought about ending your life, to stop the pain 

you felt guilt and shame so large, you thought there was nothing in the world that could possibly redeem you

you ran to hide when your family member would come home, you couldn’t bear being seen in ‘their part of the house’ (living room, dining room)

you were reluctant to admit anything that was bothering you to your parents or caretakers, because you already knew they would either blame you, or use it against you

you spiraled into dark thoughts, all on your own, telling no one

you experienced feeling so numb and lifeless, you didn’t know what was wrong with you, and it scared you

you couldn’t imagine yourself going far in the future, or accomplishing much at all, you felt it would be a miracle if you’re alive later on

you tried to blame yourself for anything that had ever happened to you, trying to get control over it, trying to make it so it doesn’t happen again

you got into media that is restricted for children (extreme violence, gruesome horror and gore, sexually explicit and sexually violent materials) and you absorbed it and told no one about it

you endured being harassed or violated by a predator and told no one about it

you were constantly scared of what everyone else was thinking and saying about you

you were ashamed of things you did and said and worried endlessly that somehow you caused something bad to happen

you felt as if your worst fear would always, always come true

signs you were not doing well as a child:

you spent most of your time in your room/alone, not because you wanted to, but because it was the safest thing to do

you had to worry about whether you’d be able to eat safely that day, or if you’d be met with insults, attacks and/or being chased away from food

you wanted to inflict harm onto yourself and felt it was normal to want to harm you

you inflicted harm onto your body

you spent a long time having imaginary conversations in your head where you tried to prove somehow that you were not as bad as everyone make it seem, or that someone cares about you

you sank into obsessions in order to get thru whatever was going on

you felt as if you were barely making it thru, and if there was just one more thing you’d have to deal with, you wouldn’t be able to take it

you had wild fantasies about someone taking you away from all of this and taking you somewhere safe where you wouldn’t be despised

you never felt at home, you felt like you didn’t have a home

you looked for every possible place to hide, in order to feel safe for a little while, both to keep your enjoyment secret and in case of a danger, you needed to have a hiding place

you were scared of all of your enjoyment being taken away the second people found out

you had to spend more time doing chores or taking care of others, than you could spend developing your own friendships and life

you felt inexplicably and endlessly lonely, you dreamed of one day having friends and it felt unreachable, impossible, like asking for too much

you never cried, or hid when you cried, feeling ashamed and weak

you over-indulged into a tv show, or a computer game, or a piece of media, to the point where it didn’t feel like you lived at all unless you were interacting with it

sometimes the insults and the shaming you endured got to you to the point where you believed things would be better if you didn’t exist

you were constantly trying to check if your parents actually cared for you or not, and took any tiny hint of attention, even negative attention, as a possible proof that they might care, but you could never know for sure which it was

you were scared of getting abandoned, getting kicked out of the house, getting left on the street, you even tried to plan what you would do if it happened

you had moments when you felt like the worst person to ever live

you thought about ending your life, to stop the pain 

you felt guilt and shame so large, you thought there was nothing in the world that could possibly redeem you

you ran to hide when your family member would come home, you couldn’t bear being seen in ‘their part of the house’ (living room, dining room)

you were reluctant to admit anything that was bothering you to your parents or caretakers, because you already knew they would either blame you, or use it against you

you spiraled into dark thoughts, all on your own, telling no one

you experienced feeling so numb and lifeless, you didn’t know what was wrong with you, and it scared you

you couldn’t imagine yourself going far in the future, or accomplishing much at all, you felt it would be a miracle if you’re alive later on

you tried to blame yourself for anything that had ever happened to you, trying to get control over it, trying to make it so it doesn’t happen again

you got into media that is restricted for children (extreme violence, gruesome horror and gore, sexually explicit and sexually violent materials) and you absorbed it and told no one about it

you endured being harassed or violated by a predator and told no one about it

you were constantly scared of what everyone else was thinking and saying about you

you were ashamed of things you did and said and worried endlessly that somehow you caused something bad to happen

you felt as if your worst fear would always, always come true

[ferg0s]

Barou starting a new relationship with a shy girl and how he would go about it

The literal personification of trying to mix oil with water

He was used to everyone looking at him in times of need on the field - he was the king after all - so he didn’t even notice how you would take a step back whenever it came time to ordering food, or any sort of public speaking and interactions.

He naturally took the lead, and you followed suit. Thanking the lord.

He honestly didn’t even notice how shy you were- he just kinda assumed you like hearing him talk. It wasn’t until he passed by an aisle of cute keychains and decided that he wanted to get you one when he realized… he kinda didn’t know anything about you.

I mean he did. He knew your name, your height…. The colour of your eyes…. And hair… and…

“So what do you do?” He asked bluntly as the two of you walked down a park, ice creams in hand. The one he ordered. “What?” “Hobbies? Sports? What do you do in your spare time?” He asked as he looked at you, determined to get an answer. “You know… the usual stuff-“ you awkwardly chuckle. “I don’t know actually.” He was a little shit about it.

But after literally interrogating you for an entire hour, he managed to squeeze out an answer from you. You were completely cornered by him, and you shyly tell him your hobbies. He looks dumbfounded, because to him those are completely normal and healthy hobbies for someone to have. He was starting to think you’re a grave robber by the way you were acting.

Knitting? He will get you the yarn, and parade a scarf you made for him and show all his teammates. Collecting something? He will always be on the lookout for what you like, even going as far as asking his teammates to be on the lookout as well. Video games? He will learn to play your favourite game with you. Cute farming sim? Silent hill? Niche indie game that only 3 people know about? You best bet he will ask for a 4 hour lore deep dive.

Very supportive.

Lwokey will get annoyed at your shyness at one point.

At first he thinks it’s cute, but he’s not the type of person to fully baby anyone, and will force you to order your own meal. He wants the best for you :(

Will say his order and look at you to say yours, watching you stumble on your words as you try to order some fries and a sprite. And will say he’s proud of you after. But doesn’t do it often because he can see the genuine terror in your eyes - only does it even it’s the two of you in line on a slow day.

Slowly learns to accept that you’re passionate in your own way. He’s loud and proud, whereas you like to keep to yourself. In a way he likes that you’re so open with him, that you let him see the stuff you don’t show other people. Thinks it’s adorable.

Will 100% try to make you more comfortable and less shy. You bought a new dress and don’t want to wear it, he will bluntly tell you it looks good and it would be a waste of money not to wear it.

Encourages your fashion choices. Polly pocket platform heels? He loves them. Bold lipstick? He will buy you earring that match. He quietly realized he liked seeing you happy. And you were happiest being yourself.

He’s not a big fan of grossly obvious PDA. Loves holding your hand or when you grab his bicep when you two walk together. You like it because it doesn’t draw unnecessary attention and he likes it cuz you’re always attached next to him and he doesn’t have to worry about actually loosing you. Plus he likes it when you grab his bicep.

Took forever to convince you to come to one of his games. You were too nervous to get into an arena with so many people - said you could come with a group of his teammates girlfriends - but you hated the idea of being with people you didn’t know.

He got really good at spotting you in the crowd. Didn’t matter where you were sitting, he just trained himself to see you. You were too shy to loudly cheer like everyone else, blending into the crowd due to that. But it didn’t matter.

In a weird way. He likes that hes the only one who gets to see you this happy, because hes the same with you. Slowly learning to take his guard down, be more open.

You’re learning to be confident while he’s learning to be trusting.

[gem-de-lune]

Daily Vibe Check 11/11

Some of yall were saying that 1111 seems very special, and I agree after doing this read today!

Seunghan

Knight of Pentacles

Today it seems as though he is being very patient. Honestly this energy is very...different than usual. Leading me to believe he has been in direct contact with something that has solidified such a perspective. The Knight of Chalices tried to come out while I thought about this. I will revisit this later.

But generally, these are good vibes, and a sign of hard work and endurance. He is willing to wait for good results and feels good about how he is approaching the situation.

Sungchan

Ace of Wands

With the Ace of wands I believe he is very excited for something. This card came out quickly before I even asked him what's up lmao. Just by saying his name it flew out. This adds to that sentiment. I think there has been some news delivered to them because as you may notice while I go through the members, he energy has shifted slightly as they are a lot less "accepting passive waiting" and more so dreaming, excitement, satisfaction. This stands true for Sungchan. He is actively throwing himself into this news or new endeavor. Generally good vibes today.

Anton

Knave of Wands

This has a similar vibe to Sungchan, except he seems to be a bit weary over getting too excited. Still, this is very naiively active and exciteable energy. The Knave here symbolizes a lot of thrill to the situation. There may be fun sides as well, but Anton seems to have some anxiety, or maybe he is distrustful of the messemger sending the good news. Either way, the energy is still generally good. He is just anxious.

Eunseok

Knight of Chalices

Lol so here with the Knight of Chalices, I had mentioned earlier that this tried to come out during my pull for Seunghan as well. This, to me, indicates that Eunseok and Seunghan may be interacting closely today and on the same wavelength. It seems they are bringing something to the table for each other that is much needed; being supportive physically and emotionally.

Focusing on Eunseok, today is very good energy for him. He is feeling a lot more expressive and open and able to relax a lot more than he may normally. At the same time, he is very pointedly not alone in doing that. Both his and Seunghan's cards are also knights. I really do think they are in direct, prolonged contact.

Wonbin

5 of Swords

This was a little weird. It seems that Wonbin feels very thrilled about something himself, but is acknowledging that others may not feel the same and is concerned about this a little bit- more so annoyed than actually feeling bad. The vibe is like "lol get over it" but it's a clear bitter acknowledgment. This is the first time he has really been particularly bitter towards any party while I read for him. I pulled the 9 of Pentacles while thinking over this and confirming this was how he felt (which i did not keep and will discuss later) and then 6 of Wands (victory) when revisiting to finalize the take. He is feeling victorious and laughing at the people against him right now. Good vibes, lmao.

Shotaro

4 of Chalices

To me, it made sense why Shotaro went when he went in this order because it makes his card make a lot more sense. I think that everyone is desperate for the good news, for a resolution. I think that Shotaro is really not satisfied with this. I don't see this in a harsh way, but in a semi playful or maybe sarcastic way. Kind of like, "And why couldn't you do this before??" He is not acknowledging any effort being put in to relay whatever news was received. And/or he may not even be satisfied enough with the content altogether. Is he feeling not good? No. He is just annoyed.

Sohee

9 of Pentacles

So, going back to Wonbin- I also pulled this card when clarifying if he really felt that way before. Since Sohee got this card, I think they are sharing very similar feelings today. Sohee is very satisfied with something/some news received, and if feeling like he can finally sit down and breathe without going crazy. He feels as though things are falling into place.

Bottom of deck:

The World

Very very strong vibes here. The end of a cycle and the beginning of the new. The energy surrounding them all right now is seriously giving "flipping to the next chapter".

I also want to note the fact that I kept on seeing the Chariot (7) card every time I split the deck to bridge shuffle.....👀👀

Final Notes:

This "good news" i spoke of seems to be something that is a good omen. But to be very clear, this news was not something that was 100% the outcome, the verdict, nor what was to happen. In simple terms, it's like if you are writing a paper and turn it in to peer review and everyone tells you great news that it's looking really good. That doesn't mean your professor will find it very good, too. It just means that there are some active things working in your favor.

So here, it seems there are some things that SM has expressed to the members that have lifted their spirits. Some take this at face value with caution, and others are taking it as positovely as possible. But this is not the end all be all. It is just the beginning and a good sign.

Please continue to boycott as usual and support Seunghan.

[lostintransist]

I can't keep doing this to myself...

My brain spit out an idea at me that I don't want to lose so you get to suffer with me under the weight of this idea until I have the time space energy ADHD hyperfocus to start on it.

This is not edited. Goal is to get the thought out of my head, not to make it perfect.

So imagine for me if you will that in some version of the stories for whatever reason I can bullshit into making sense Simon is selected to undergo a new and experimental form of trauma therapy. Used she/her here but when I write it pronouns will be you/yours

He hates it but orders are orders and after losing Johnny (his best mate, his lover, the other half of his soul) he would do just about anything to crawl from under the weight of the grief and guilt. Accepting the assignment means being put under sedation regularly for anywhere from six months to a year. During the sedation your active mind will remian awake and will begin to interact with a simulation that will help deal with the traumas exisiting in his body and mind.

Simon, not 100% on board, accepts the assignment but when he wakes up in some of his worst memorires ignores the woman following him from scene to scene, offering help. Every time he cowers as a child she offers a hand. Each time he bites back the fear flooding his system on a battlefield she offers to take the bullet instead.

For months he ignores her, trying to defeat his demons on his own. This was his mind and his body dammit, he could do this.

She stops offering help but doesn't leave. Trailing behind him in his memories Simon always finds flowers strewn in his footsteps. He never bothered to learn her name. When her laughter starts to haunt his dreams he watches her instead of his memories.

Whoever had programed this simulation had taken great care in creating a realistic interaction point. She makes ugly faces before she sneezes in the barns he has hid in, always complains about hayfever. Her ring finger on her right had been broken before, he can tell from the slight bend between the second and third knuckle. Every time he entered the simulation she wore something different, sometimes tugging on pants as if they wouldn't stay up.

"What should I call you?"

"Mmm?" She looks up from a book she had pulled down from a shelf in a dilapidated kitchen. "Oh, I'm not real so you can call me whatever you want."

He stared at her, frustrations mounting.

"Back to the silent treatment? Okay, this recipe looks actually really yummy," she turns to look back to the book.

Simon stalks up and snatches it from her hands. There is actually handwritten recipes. For some reason this makes Simon's rage double. How? How could this be real? He never opened a book in this kitchen. All that happened here was patching his wounds while waiting for exfil.

Their pattern continues like that until his brain finally spits out Johnny's death. He had been so, so careful to never let that memory come up. When it does Simon is so blindsided that when she offers to help he finally accepts.

Not knowing what to expect from this interaction did not prevent Simon from being surprised at how she handled it. She started to hum as she froze the memory, touching and moving pieces and people until everything had rewound a few moments.

"You have to sit it in, this pain. Talk to him. Tell him everything you didn't get a chance to. The longer you can sit in the agony the sooner it will find peace." She takes him by the hand and pulls him to his love.

Simon cries, like the young boy who needed safety and only found hate or indifference. Through blubbering sobs he tells Johnny every word he regretted hording. When Johnny hugs him back, mouth moving and voice saying things Simon had only dreamed of he found a semblenece of peace.

When his heartrate returns to normal and the only proof this interaction happened is the hollow space in his chest where Johnny will continue to exist his compaion steps back from Johnny, appearing as if from the dust.

"I think that is enough today. You did good." Turning on her heel she walks away, disappearing into the folds between memories.

Simon had never seen her leave before, he always ended the sessions before she had a chance.

He lets her help then, this nameless woman. They conquer every memory and the vaguest notions of memories that bother him. This intensive work paired with his weekly therapy leaves his with the skills to deal with the nightmares, the PTSD, and the trauma that still manifests from time to time.

Can one fall in love with a figment of imagintion? Simon thinks he might have. The final session he confesses, brushing his lips against hers as she sobs.

"But I'm not real. Simon, you can't love me I'm not real."

"Johnny's not real either anymore. I still love him. I'll keep you in my bones next to him, both of you keeping me safe."

She runs then, between memories and fears until she disappears and ends the sesion.

Simon, upon requesting more sessions, is informed that he has completed the program and all his care is being turned over to the non-intensive team that his therapist is a part of. Oh she shouldn't have argued with him or cut off their sessions. Now he knows she is real, the woman the knocked around his brain and fought back the demons for him.

Now all he had to do? Find her.

For anything I am currently working on check out my masterlist. This is getting dropped into my drabbles for later.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 30

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,855ish

Summary: You and Logan still struggle with your relationship. The two of you make a decision to help ease the struggles.

Warnings: Emotional, Angst, Injuries

Notes: crossing my fingers that you guys will be okay with this chapter...

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

“So, how are you and Logan doing?” Ororo asked one morning at breakfast.

“Fine,” you responded with a shrug. “We have a lot of work to do, but we’re working through it.”

“He does seem a little more on edge around the kids, as do you.”

You sighed. “I’ve actually been thinking… I think Logan and I should go away for a while.”

“Wait, you two want to leave?”

“I haven’t brought it up to Logan yet, and it wouldn’t be forever… we just need a space where we can focus on just the two of us. We’re constantly thrown every which way with classes, missions, and world-ending scenarios. Logan and I need to simply be us for a while and figure out what that means.”

“I… do whatever you have to do.” Ororo stood up. “I’ve got a class to teach.”

“Ororo, please stay and talk.” 

But she slipped out of the room. You sighed, hiding your head in your hands. That was the position Logan found you in. He quietly came up behind you and rested your hands on your shoulders. He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered against your neck.

You leaned back into him, looking up at him. “I made Ororo upset.”

“What did you do?” You sighed, looking back down. “Hey.” He sat down beside you. “I thought we were doing better with the talking shit.” He hooked a finger under your chin and guided your face to look at him. “Tell me.”

“I told Ororo about something I was going to talk to you about.”

“And that was…?”

“About leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“I was thinking that we need some time to ourselves. To figure things out and just be us.”

“But this is your home. Would you really be okay leaving it?”

“Logan, you’re my home. And you were long before this was.”

Logan studied your gaze and could see that you were telling the truth, but he worried that after a while, he wouldn’t be enough. You at least had people here, other mutants, to lean on when the two of you were struggling. If it’s just you and him? Then you’d have no one. Logan was okay with that for himself but not for you.

“I thought that we’ve been doing well here,” Logan said, trying to see if he could get you to change your mind. 

His words took you back. “You want to stay? You’re constantly trying to run.”

“I just want you to really think about it, sweetheart. I don’t want you to leave and then regret it.”

“You think that I’d regret being with you?”

“That’s not what I said—“

You pulled away, standing up. “But it’s what you meant, right?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” He stood up as well, growing angry. 

“Do you not want this long-term, Logan? Am I just your person until a new, better one comes along?”

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

“Morning! Oh—“ Bobby stopped in the doorway. “I can see that this is not a good time, so I—“

“No, Bobby, we’re done here,” you told him, rushing off.

“Y/N!” Logan yelled after you, hurrying to follow you. He followed you into the gardens. “Now, who’s running?!”

“Oh, please,” you spun around. “You’ve wanted to run since the moment you got here!”

“Yes, but I stayed for you!”

“Oh, I feel so honored.”

“You know what, maybe I should go. Since it’s clear that I’m unable to hit the high expectations you have set for me.”

“You are the reason for those high expectations.”

“Ugh! I’m not that person anymore! And I’m sick and tired of feeling like shit all the time about that!”

Logan’s hand flew out as he was talking, his claws accidentally unsheathing. Before either of you knew it, the claws were cutting against your cheek. You gasped, stumbling back as your hand came up to hold your cheek.

“Oh my God,” he sputtered. He hid his claws before reaching for you. “Sweetheart—“ You stepped back, breaking both of your hearts. Logan’s fingers were tingling. If you didn’t let him try to fix this—if you didn’t let him touch you, Logan would never trust himself to touch someone again. “Please let me—“

“No,” you shook your head, tears falling down your cheeks. “Just… leave me alone.”

You rushed off back into the mansion. You knew that Logan didn’t mean to hurt you, but you needed time and space. 

Logan was frozen in his spot. The high emotions had gotten the best of both of you, but especially his claws. He had hurt you, and he was fully conscious for it. This was different than him having a nightmare. This was much worse.

~~~

You had sat in front of the mirror, watching the three cuts along your cheek heal into scars. Tears streamed down your face the entire time while you thought of Logan. Both of you were in the wrong here, and this was a complete accident. You were thinking about what to say to Logan when you started to hear drawers slamming in Logan’s room. Rushing out of your room, you looked into his room to see him stuffing his clothes into a bag.

“What are you doing?” You whispered.

Logan spun to face you. Slowly, his hand reached out to brush against the scars on your cheek, but he didn’t let his hand actually make contact.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” his voice was completely broken, tears lining his eyes. “I never wanted to be the one to hurt you… yet I keep doing it.” He shook his head and got back to packing. “I have to go.”

“What?”

“I can’t keep hurting you. I can’t be the person you need… The person I was before…”

“And this will make it better? I’ve messed up in this relationship, too. This is not just on you. I’m sorry for making it seem like I’m forcing you to be that person again. I know that you’ve changed, so I have, and that’s okay. I still love you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Stop that.” You slipped in between him and the dresser. He kept his head down, not willing to make eye contact. “Fine. Tell me you don't love me, and I’ll let you walk away. But you have to look me in the eye and be honest with me.”

You nibbled your bottom lip as you waited for Logan to make the next move. You could tell that there was a war waging in his mind. His eyes suddenly snapped to yours.

“I… I can’t do that,” he murmured. “I love you.”

You quickly pulled him by his shirt to kiss him. He dropped his bag and slid his hands to the small of your back.

“If you really want to leave,” you whispered against his lips, “then you have to take me with you.”

“Okay,” he replied. 

~~~

“It’s not forever,” you said as you hugged Ororo. “We’ll stay in contact and visit. Logan and I just need to figure things out.”

“I’ll miss you,” Ororo responded, pulling back. “I’ll miss the both of you.”

“You ready?” Logan asked, coming up from the truck he had just packed. 

He had already said goodbye to Marie and Bobby before packing the truck, knowing that you would need some time with Ororo.

“I think so,” you responded. “See you later, Ororo.”

“See you,” she replied.

You took Logan’s hand, and he led you to the truck. He opened the door and helped you in before going around to the driver’s seat. You turned back and watched as the mansion grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Logan placed a hand on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze.

“Are you okay?” He asked, clearly concerned. “We can turn back around.”

You laced your fingers through his and scooted closer to Logan, very thankful for the bench seat. “I’m okay,” you told him. You kissed his shoulder. “Where are we headed?”

“I have a place in mind.”

“Care to tell?”

“Not yet. Why don’t you get some rest?”

“You sure?”

He leaned over and kissed your head. “I’m sure.”

You hummed in content as you rested your head on his shoulder and let yourself relax. Logan’s lifted up in a barely-there smile as you tried your best to cuddle into him. 

~~~

You didn’t bother to ask Logan where the two of you were headed again. You kept yourself occupied with books and naps when you weren’t talking to Logan. It was already proving to be worth it, as the farther the two of you drove from the mansion, the less tension there was. Logan insisted on driving the whole way, and so far you’ve had to beg him to stop to sleep in motels for the three nights you’ve been on the road so far.

It didn’t shock you when the two of you crossed over into Canada. You figured that Logan would always feel a call back there. The shock factor was later as the two of you drove up an old, familiar road in the Canadian Rockies.

“Logan, where—“

“Just patience, okay?” He cut you off. “I’ll explain soon.”

You simply nodded, focusing on the trees you were passing out the window. Your heart started pounding the closer you got to the top. Before you knew it, the small house appeared and Logan was pulling up to it. It looked just how you remembered it. You were too busy staring that you didn’t realize Logan had gotten out of the truck and walked around to your side. He opened the door and took your hand.

“Come on,” he urged, tugging you out of the truck. “Let’s go inside.”

“Inside?” You repeated. “It’s probably a disaster. We—“ Your eyes widened as Logan pulled you inside. The place was clean, updated, and furnished. “What? How?”

“Charles. We had a conversation about when Jean died, and I got part of my memories back. He knew that we would need a place to start over and found where we used to live. Before I could stop it, he had people here fixing it up.”

You let go of his hand and began slowly walking around the house. Your hands gently trailed against the walls and updated pieces of furniture. 

“You and Charles…” you breathed out. “You did all this?”

“Is it okay?” Logan was clearly nervous. “We can go somewhere else. I just know that this was the—“ You shut him up with a kiss.

“This is perfect. Thank you. But know that I don't expect you to be the same person as before. Time has changed both of us… are you okay with being here?”

“Yes. I even already got a job as a lumberjack.”

“Oh, got the old job back?”

Logan chuckled. “Somethin’ like that. I start in a week.”

“So I have a week of you all to myself?”

“A whole week.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“Can we try out the new bed?”

A devious smirk formed over Logan’s lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”

next chapter >

[slytherinsmuse]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Frigid Waters | Mattheo Riddle ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Fem! Reader

Warnings: characters are 18+, not canon, anger

Summary: Angst, Fluff | Through jealousy and regret, Mattheo finds redemption in an unexpected embrace.

Word count: 10262- needs adjusting

Mattheo Riddle and you had always shared a relationship that teetered on the edge of something that felt almost volatile. From the very beginning, something about him managed to set you off, and it seemed that every interaction you shared was a battle of wit, will, or pride. Your mutual friends were well accustomed to the tension that clouded the room whenever you were both present, a strain that had grown from minor annoyances to full-blown arguments over the years.

Yet, despite all the friction, Mattheo had always been there. He was sharp, observant, and insufferably bold, a combination that left you equally irked and intrigued. But of all the things Mattheo was, critical seemed to be his favourite when it came to you. He had an uncanny ability to notice things most people missed—especially when it came to the people you chose to surround yourself with.

One of the most explosive arguments between the two of you had taken place a month ago, over something as mundane as a date you’d gone on with a boy from Hufflepuff. You’d met him in Charms class, and although he wasn’t particularly flashy or bold, he’d been sweet, the kind of person who made you laugh without trying too hard. You’d looked forward to the evening, finding the simplicity of his company refreshing compared to the guarded, often intense personalities of your Slytherin circle. After the date, you’d returned to the Slytherin common room, feeling lighthearted and content.

But Mattheo had been waiting, sprawled casually on the common room couch with a book in his lap, his gaze fixed on you the moment you stepped through the door. His expression had darkened instantly, and before you’d even had a chance to process it, he’d spoken up, his voice cold and heavy with disdain.

“Really, Y/N?” he’d drawled, not bothering to mask the bitterness. “Him?”

Confusion furrowed your brow. “Excuse me?”

He’d sat up, his dark gaze sharp and accusatory, as if your mere presence was an affront. “That Hufflepuff boy.” he’d said, smirking slightly, though it lacked its usual charm. “I can’t believe you’d waste your time with someone so… bland.”

For a moment, you’d been stunned, caught between surprise and irritation. “Since when do you get a say in who I spend my time with, Mattheo?”

He’d shrugged, a casual, infuriating gesture that only added fuel to your frustration. “I don’t. I’m just saying it’s pathetic. You, out there with someone who doesn’t even know half of what you’re worth. Not to mention…” he trailed off, scoffing, “his personality is as thrilling as a leaking cauldron.”

The condescension in his tone had hit a nerve, and you’d felt a surge of anger you couldn’t quite suppress. “Unbelievable.” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, though your voice rose in volume. “Who I choose to spend time with is none of your business. Maybe I actually like spending time with people who don’t spend every moment judging me.”

He’d let out a dark laugh, low and mocking, and it echoed in the common room, reminding you of just how alone you were in that moment, facing off against him. “Is that what you call it?” he asked, his words like a challenge. “Enjoying time with boys who don’t even see you? You think that’s the kind of attention you deserve?”

The comment cut deep, and you could feel your frustration bubble over, mingling with a hurt you tried to mask. “At least he doesn’t spend his days acting like he owns everyone around him.” you shot back, voice shaking with the effort to keep it steady. “You think you can just say whatever you want and get away with it? Newsflash, Mattheo—you don’t own me, and you sure as hell don’t get to decide who’s worth my time.”

His smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing with something unreadable, and for a brief moment, you thought he might back down. But he’d held his ground, his gaze flickering with a hint of something darker.

 “Fine.” he muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the couch, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Go ahead. Waste your time with boys who don’t care enough to look deeper. But don’t come crying to me when you realize what you’re missing.”

The argument had ended there, with one of your friends stepping in to mediate, and you’d walked away, fuming and hurt, questioning why his opinion mattered to you at all. But the resentment had lingered, sinking into the very fabric of your interactions with Mattheo. Every conversation, every glance, and every comment held an edge, a simmering tension that had only grown since that argument. It felt as though an invisible wall had been built between the two of you, brick by bitter brick, and neither of you was willing to dismantle it. Each time you found yourself in the same room, you could feel the air grow thick, every word exchanged like a match threatening to ignite the powder keg of emotions that seemed to follow you both.

You were tired of it—tired of the constant back-and-forth, the pointed comments, and the way he always found a way to inject himself into your life. You couldn't understand why he cared so much, why he seemed so invested in your choices, especially when his words were rarely anything but critical. More than anything, you were tired of his scrutiny, the way he seemed to hover, watching and waiting, like he was constantly assessing your every move, every interaction. It was maddening.

In moments of quiet, when you could think clearly, you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. You’d never asked for his opinions or his presence in your life, and yet he was always there, inserting himself uninvited, and treating each of your decisions with a disdain that felt far too personal. Whatever his reasons, you didn’t care anymore. You were done with him.

And yet, for the sake of your friends—the people who were as much a part of your life as the air you breathed—you tolerated his presence. You gritted your teeth through his criticisms, bit back your responses to his sarcastic remarks, and did your best to act as though he was nothing more than a nuisance in the background. It was exhausting, forcing yourself to stay civil when all you wanted was to tell him exactly where he could shove his opinions. You could barely stand being around him, yet every shared friend outing, every party, and every late-night study session in the common room meant enduring his presence.

There were times when your friends would exchange wary glances, sensing the tension between you and Mattheo, and you could tell they were hesitant to take sides. They’d become skilled at diverting conversations before they could escalate, quick to step in whenever your arguments grew too heated. Even Draco, who usually enjoyed a good spectacle, seemed to tread carefully whenever you and Mattheo began to clash. But despite your friends’ best efforts, the strain was there, undeniable and ever-present, a weight that neither you nor Mattheo seemed willing to ease.

Every time you saw him, the resentment flared anew. You’d see that familiar smirk, that cocky glint in his eye, and it would all come rushing back—the anger, the frustration, the complete exasperation of dealing with someone who seemed determined to get under your skin. You found yourself questioning whether he even cared about anyone other than himself, if he found amusement in your reactions, in the little fires he set just to watch them burn.

And yet, there was a small, infuriating part of you that wondered if his interference wasn’t just born of spite. You pushed the thought aside each time it arose, telling yourself you were done wasting energy on him. But even as you tried to ignore him, as you tried to dismiss the meaning behind his constant criticism, he was always there, pushing boundaries you didn’t even know existed.

That night by the lake, though, had finally pushed things too far.

~~~

The chill of winter had fully settled over Hogwarts, frosting the castle grounds with a glistening layer of snow and ice. It was nearly Christmas, and excitement for the holidays was palpable, building up to the night’s event: an all-house winter party, held just before everyone would leave for the break.

The professors and students had transformed the gardens into a dazzling winter wonderland. Evergreen garlands and enchanted holly bushes lined the pathways, their leaves glistening with a delicate layer of snow, while enchanted fairy lights sparkled from tree branches like clusters of stars, casting a soft, magical glow over the gathering. Giant wreaths with shimmering silver and gold accents hung at intervals, each adorned with deep red ribbons that fluttered in the crisp evening breeze.

To ward off the cold, tall iron torches were scattered throughout the gardens, their warm flames flickering and casting inviting glows across the snow-covered ground. The flames danced in shades of orange and gold, wrapping the chilly air in a cosy warmth that lured people to linger and chat.

Tables were set up with steaming drinks, both alcoholic and non, ready to warm the hands and spirits of the guests. There were enchanted goblets filled with mulled mead, spiced cider, and warm butterbeer, each drink casting a sweet aroma into the air. For those wanting to stay sober, there were mugs of hot cocoa with floating marshmallows that danced like tiny clouds, as well as steaming herbal teas enchanted to change colours with each sip.

You’d dressed carefully for the night. Under the glow of the torches, your outfit was striking against the wintery landscape. A fitted black dress hugged your figure, reaching down just above your ankles with a modest side slit. The high neckline and long sleeves gave it a touch of elegance while offering some warmth against the cold. Over it, you’d layered a thick, cropped black jacket, plush and luxurious, the hood large enough to shield your face from the breeze. The jacket’s soft, rich texture contrasted with the smooth fabric of your dress, creating a look that was both stylish and cosy.

On your feet were short black winter boots—simple, soft, and insulated to keep out the biting cold of the snowy ground. They grounded your look with a casual touch, perfect for wandering through the winter gardens while still keeping your toes warm.

You sipped on a cup of warm mulled mead, the sweet, spiced flavour settling pleasantly in your stomach, allowing you a moment to simply enjoy the festive air around you. Snowflakes drifted gently from the sky, and laughter and chatter filled the air as students huddled in groups, swapping stories and celebrating the season.

It should have been the perfect night.The fire crackled warmly in the nearest torch as you stood with Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Daphne, exchanging stories and laughing as you all nursed your warm drinks. The group was relaxed, leaning into the cheer of the season as the chill of winter nipped at your faces, kept at bay by the heat of the torches and the laughter that filled the air.

Draco had just finished recounting an exaggerated tale of a recent Quidditch practice, his voice taking on a dramatic edge that drew a laugh from Pansy, who shook her head and rolled her eyes. Blaise chuckled, tipping his glass to Draco in mock admiration. “I’m not sure that story would hold up in court, Malfoy.” he teased, grinning.

“Of course it would.” Draco scoffed, feigning indignation. “If anyone else had been there, they’d tell it the same way.” His gaze swept around the circle, daring someone to challenge him.

Daphne smirked, giving Draco a knowing look. “I was there, remember? You barely dodged the Bludger.” she quipped. “And I believe you squealed.”

The group erupted in laughter, and even you couldn’t help but chuckle, taking a sip of your mead as the warmth from the drink spread through you. It was moments like this that made you forget about everything else—the tension, the drama, and even certain people.

Yet, despite the relaxed atmosphere, there was one member of your group who didn’t join in on the laughter. Mattheo was standing off to the side, nursing his drink in silence, though his gaze occasionally flicked toward the conversation, intently listening to every word exchanged. His expression was unreadable, his jaw set as he raised his glass to his lips, eyes lingering on you each time you laughed or smiled.

You tried to ignore the slight discomfort his gaze brought, though it was difficult to fully enjoy yourself under his intense scrutiny. Every time you made a joke or responded to one of your friends, you could feel his eyes on you, watching, observing. It was as though he was silently taking note of every word you said, every interaction you had with the others.

Pansy nudged you with her elbow, a smirk on her lips. “You must be cold, Y/N. You’ve been huddled by the torch all night.” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or maybe you’re just trying to hog all the warmth?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Can you blame me?” you replied, pulling your jacket tighter around you. “I’m just trying not to freeze.”

Theo chuckled, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “It’s a good look on you—frozen chic.” he joked, earning a playful swat from you as the group laughed again.

Mattheo’s eyes narrowed slightly at the playful touch, his fingers tightening on his glass. Though he remained silent, the tension radiated from him like a second winter chill, barely hidden under his relaxed posture. The others didn’t seem to notice, caught up in the conversation, but you felt it keenly, an invisible string pulling tighter with each passing second.

Despite his silence, you knew Mattheo’s attention was focused entirely on you, every bit as intense as if he were speaking aloud. It was as though he was waiting for something, watching you with that familiar, infuriating mix of disapproval and something else you couldn’t quite place. You tried to brush it off, to stay in the warmth and cheer of the conversation, but his presence lingered in your mind, a shadow that refused to be ignored.

As the laughter in your group faded, a new voice cut through the conversation. You turned to see a boy from Ravenclaw—Ethan, a friend of yours from Charms—grinning as he approached, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He was tall and easygoing, with a quiet confidence that made him likeable, the kind of person who could effortlessly strike up a conversation. You’d been chatting with him on and off over the past month, enjoying the calm normalcy he brought compared to the relentless drama that seemed to follow your Slytherin circle.

“Mind if I steal Y/N for a bit?” Ethan asked, directing his question at the group but his gaze settled on you with a friendly warmth. The others exchanged glances, but no one objected, and you flashed your friends a quick smile before allowing Ethan to gently pull you away from them.

As the two of you wandered toward the lake, the cold seemed sharper away from the warmth of the torches. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you followed the winding path, laughing at something Ethan said as he kept the conversation light and easy, a welcome distraction from the evening’s underlying tensions.

Behind you, however, things were far from calm.

Mattheo watched you go, his gaze darkening with each step you took alongside Ethan. He took a long, slow drink from his glass, his jaw tight, every nerve in his body tense. As you moved farther away, something in him snapped. His hand clenched around his glass, his usual quiet intensity boiling over into something dangerously close to rage.

“Mate, calm down.” Draco murmured, noticing the shift in Mattheo’s demeanour. He reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Mattheo shrugged him off, his expression twisting into something fierce and unrestrained.

“Did you see that?” Mattheo’s voice was rough, almost a growl. “She just… left with him.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, exchanging a wary glance with Pansy, who looked equally concerned. “She’s just talking to him, Riddle. It’s not the end of the world.”

But Mattheo’s eyes were fixed on you and Ethan, his face contorted with an emotion that seemed to go beyond anger. It was possessive, a raw jealousy that pulsed through him with every breath. He could feel the alcohol heightening every sensation, every twisted thought, and in his drunken state, he found himself unable to control the wave of emotion that crashed over him.

Pansy stepped in, her voice calm but firm. “Mattheo, you’re overreacting. She’s allowed to have friends, you know.”

But her words only seemed to make him angrier. He glared at her, his fists clenched. “Friends? He’s been sniffing around her for weeks. And now he’s taking her out to the lake?” His voice was thick with bitterness, his eyes narrowing as he watched you disappear further into the distance with Ethan.

Theo placed a hand on Mattheo’s arm, trying to pull him back. “Look, you’re drunk, and you’re not thinking clearly. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked to Theo, his voice filled with venom. “Regret? The only thing I’ll regret is standing here while he gets to play the gentleman.”

Despite their best efforts, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo found themselves helpless to stop him. With a final, determined glance at the group, Mattheo shook them off and stormed toward the lake, his pace quick and purposeful, his eyes blazing with fury.

They exchanged uneasy glances, understanding that nothing good could come from this. Daphne sighed, folding her arms as she watched him go. “This is going to end badly.” she muttered, worry etched across her face.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Well, let’s just hope he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

But even as they watched him disappear into the darkness, they all had the sinking feeling that Mattheo’s jealousy had finally crossed a line—and that whatever happened next would be impossible to undo.

Mattheo reached the edge of the lake, hidden just out of sight among the trees. His breath was shallow, each exhale mingling with the cold night air in faint clouds of mist, but he barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on you and the Ravenclaw boy, his vision tunnelling in as he took in the scene.

You were standing close to the Ravenclaw, your breath fogging the air as you laughed softly at something he’d said. The sound of your laughter, so genuine and relaxed, hit Mattheo like a slap in the face. He felt the jealousy simmering in his chest twist and morph into something darker, more raw. He was close enough to catch snippets of your conversation, each word feeling like a fresh wound.

Ethan leaned in, his voice low and playful. “I can’t wait to see you after Christmas. Maybe I’ll even get to see the whole package this time.” His tone was teasing, the kind of flirtation that felt comfortable and familiar, yet full of suggestion.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played at the corners of your lips. “Oh, is that right?” you replied, your voice equally teasing.

Ethan’s hand reached out, gently taking yours, and Mattheo’s fists clenched, his nails biting into his palms. He watched, barely breathing, as Ethan lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, lingering just long enough to leave no doubt about his intentions.

And that was it.

The last threads of control snapped within Mattheo. His vision went red, his mind clouded by a rage so fierce he couldn’t see past it. Every fibre of his being screamed that this was wrong, that no one else had the right to touch you, to make you laugh like that. To him, this wasn’t just jealousy; it was betrayal, a bitter confirmation of his worst fears. Without a second thought, he stormed forward, his footsteps heavy, crunching over the snow-laden ground as he closed the distance between himself and the two of you.

Your laughter died as soon as you heard him approaching. You turned, eyes widening in surprise, and saw Mattheo stalking toward you, his face twisted in fury, every line of his body tense and seething. Ethan quickly dropped your hand, glancing between you and Mattheo with a mixture of confusion and mild apprehension.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mattheo’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, his eyes fixed on Ethan like he was a mere insect to be crushed.

Ethan straightened, clearly taken aback but trying to hold his ground. “We’re just talking, Riddle?” he said evenly, though his voice held a slight edge.

Mattheo took another step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “Talking?” He laughed, though it was a dark, humourless sound. “Looked a lot more than just talking to me.”

You stepped between them, your expression both confused and frustrated. “Mattheo, what’s your problem? We’re just having a conversation.”

His gaze shifted to you, and the intensity of it was enough to make you take a small step back. “A conversation? He’s been hanging around you for weeks, trying to get close, and now he’s…” Mattheo’s voice trailed off, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think so.”

Ethan huffed, glancing at you, as if silently asking if Mattheo was serious. “Mate, you don’t own her.” he said, his tone turning defiant. “Y/N can make her own choices.”

At that, Mattheo’s control snapped entirely. He reached out, grabbing Ethan by the front of his coat, his knuckles white with tension. “You think you can just put your hands on her like that?” he snarled, his voice shaking with barely-contained fury.

“Mattheo, stop it!” you shouted, your voice sharp with both anger and fear. You reached out, grabbing his arm to try to pull him back, but he barely seemed to register your touch.

Ethan managed to push Mattheo off, stumbling back a few steps, his expression turning to one of frustration. “This is insane. Y/N, I’ll see you later.” He shot Mattheo a disgusted look before turning on his heel and walking away, disappearing into the darkness.

As soon as Ethan disappeared into the shadows, Mattheo whipped around to face you, his chest heaving with the barely controlled fury that flickered in his eyes. The intensity of his gaze was like a storm brewing, wild and unrestrained, and you felt your own anger rise to meet it, every nerve in your body taut with indignation.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice cracking with a mixture of disbelief and rage. Your fists clenched at your sides, barely able to contain the fury building inside. “You had no right to do that!”

Mattheo scoffed, a bitter, scornful sound as he crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing into a glare that cut through the cold night air. “No right?” he echoed, his voice laced with venom. “He was practically drooling over you, Y/N. And you were just standing there, letting him.”

Your anger flared white-hot, each word he threw at you only stoking the fire within. “So what if I was?” you shot back, your voice sharp as glass. “I can talk to whoever I want, Mattheo. You don’t get to decide that for me!”

He stepped closer, his face only inches from yours, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You really think he cares about you?” His tone was laced with a cruel edge, his words hitting like daggers. “He’s just another fool trying to get close because he thinks you’re easy.”

The insult was like a slap across the face, and you felt a surge of hurt and fury twist inside you, your vision blurring with the intensity of it. “How dare you?” you spat, your voice trembling with rage as you began moving towards him, attempting to remove yourself from the situation. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

But Mattheo barely registered your intentions, his drunken anger blinding him to your actions. Instead, he pushed you hard, his hand colliding with your shoulder with more force than he realised. The ground beneath you was slick with ice, and your footing slipped, your balance vanishing as you stumbled backward.

It happened in an instant—a heartbeat, a single, breathless moment where the world seemed to tilt. You felt yourself falling, your heart lurching in your chest as the lake loomed closer, and then, in a flash, the freezing water swallowed you whole.

The shock of the cold was like knives piercing every inch of your skin, stealing the air from your lungs in a harsh, unforgiving grip. The icy darkness closed in around you, pressing in from all sides as you sank below the surface, your body seizing in panic as the freezing water pulled you deeper. Every inch of you was numb, the biting cold sinking into your bones as your mind reeled, frantic and disoriented.

But you weren’t about to stay in the lake a second longer than necessary. Desperately, you forced yourself to kick, pushing toward the surface, your arms clawing against the freezing water as you fought to break free. The cold clung to you, slowing your movements and making each breath feel laboured, but sheer willpower drove you upward. Your head broke through the surface, and you gasped for air, the icy sting of the wind hitting you like another wave of shock.

With trembling limbs, you pushed yourself toward the shore, your movements clumsy and desperate. Your fingers reached for the slippery rocks along the edge, but the icy coating made it impossible to get a firm hold. You slipped, the slickness of the rocks pulling you back toward the water’s edge. Panic surged through you again, but you gritted your teeth, fighting against the cold and the fear as you scrambled forward, slipping and stumbling with every movement.

Through your water-blurred vision, you caught sight of Mattheo standing on the shore, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression. He didn’t look panicked; in fact, he seemed disturbingly calm, his face set with a strange intensity as he observed your struggle. His posture was rigid, unmoving, as if he was rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on you, every step you took seeming to hold his full attention.

You hauled yourself forward, every inch of your body aching with the effort, until you finally reached the bank. The moment your hands touched solid ground, you pushed yourself up, crawling onto the frosty grass, your breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Your fingers and toes felt numb, your soaked clothes clinging to you, cold and heavy. You didn’t even have the strength to stand yet; instead, you knelt there, shivering violently as the cold seeped deeper into you.

Still, Mattheo didn’t move. He just watched you, his gaze unwavering, his face shadowed and hard, as if this was some sort of lesson he was waiting for you to learn.

Anger flared within you, cutting through the numbing cold, and you forced yourself up, stumbling as you took a shaky step toward him. “What… is wrong with you?” you choked out, your voice thick with rage and exhaustion. You could barely form the words through your shivering, but the fire in your eyes was clear. “Are you… insane?”

He tilted his head, his gaze steady, unbothered. “You’re the one who keeps making reckless choices.” he replied coolly, his voice calm, unfeeling, as if he wasn’t the reason you’d just plunged into the freezing lake.

The sheer indifference in his tone sent a fresh wave of anger crashing over you, and you staggered forward, your teeth chattering as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “You pushed me in.” you hissed, your words trembling as much as your body. “And you just stood there… watching.”

He shrugged, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “You got out, didn’t you?”

The casualness of his response stunned you into silence. He seemed unaffected, almost as if the entire situation was nothing more than an inconvenience. But as he looked at you, his expression softened—just barely, a flicker of something that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze, anger and hurt warring within you. It was like you were seeing him for the first time, the dark, cold part of him that lurked beneath his usual intensity. The silence stretched between you, brittle and bitter, before he finally took a step closer, his voice dropping low.

“You were with him.” he muttered, as if that was supposed to explain everything.

Your eyes narrowed, a mixture of disbelief and fury in your voice. “So that justifies this?” you spat, gesturing to your soaked, shivering form. “You’re a coward, Mattheo. You don’t get to act like you care and then do… this.”

He clenched his jaw, but for the first time, his steady gaze wavered, a flicker of something almost like regret crossing his face. He didn’t respond, simply standing there as you took a shaky breath, your body trembling from the cold and anger alike.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, forcing yourself to walk away from him, each step an agonising struggle as the cold cut through your soaked clothes, leaving you shivering violently. Every muscle in your body ached from the freezing lake, and you could barely catch your breath, but you refused to let him see you stumble. Your anger was the only thing keeping you upright, fueling your determination to put as much distance as possible between you and the boy who had caused this.

As you pushed yourself forward, Mattheo stood frozen, watching your retreating figure with a dawning sense of regret and confusion. The gravity of what he’d done settled over him like a weight, each step you took away from him sinking the realisation deeper into his chest. He’d let his anger, his jealousy, get the better of him, and now he was left in the wake of his own reckless actions, unsure how to fix the mess he’d made.

But as he saw you growing smaller, disappearing into the shadows toward the castle, something snapped inside him. Panic flared in his chest, and without thinking, he rushed after you, his heart pounding as he stumbled forward, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Y/N, wait! I’m sorry!” he called, his words cutting through the quiet of the night.

You ignored him, your jaw clenched as you quickened your pace, not sparing him a single glance. All you could think about was getting inside, getting warm, and getting as far away from him as possible. You could hear his footsteps pounding behind you, his voice echoing as he continued to call out.

“Y/N, please—stop! I didn’t mean to—” His voice cracked, filled with an edge of desperation, but you didn’t care. You felt nothing but fury, the cold seeping into your bones and mingling with the anger boiling in your veins.

As you neared the garden, you could see the party still in full swing, warm lights and laughter filling the air. The students around the torches were unaware of the storm that had erupted by the lake, oblivious to the anger and hurt that now trailed behind you like a shadow.

You pushed through the edge of the gathering, your soaked clothes clinging to you, your hair dripping, your teeth chattering as the freezing cold seeped into every part of you. Conversation ceased abruptly as heads turned in your direction. Draco, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne all looked up, their expressions shifting from casual interest to wide-eyed shock as they took in the state you were in. Their gazes flickered from you to Mattheo, who was only a few steps behind, his face stricken with a mixture of panic and regret.

“Y/N!” Pansy’s voice was the first to break the silence, her tone laced with concern as she took a hesitant step forward, but you didn’t stop. You pushed past them all, barely registering their looks of confusion and worry. Your only thought was to get to the Slytherin dormitory, to get somewhere warm where you could be alone, away from the prying eyes and judgmental stares.

“Y/N, please!” Mattheo’s voice grew more frantic as he called after you, his footsteps quickening as he tried to keep up. “Just… just let me explain! I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

You whirled around for a brief moment, your voice laced with fury as you yelled back, “Get lost, Mattheo!” The words echoed in the garden, slicing through the stunned silence that had settled over the party. Your friends watched, unable to mask their surprise as you turned back toward the castle, ignoring the looks, ignoring the whispers, and ignoring him.

You stormed into the castle, the warmth of the hallways doing little to soothe the bone-deep chill that had settled over you. Behind you, Mattheo’s calls continued, his voice carrying through the corridors as he followed, each step echoing with the sound of his regret.

“Y/N!” he yelled, desperation thickening his voice as he followed you up the stairs. “Please… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry!”

But you didn’t look back. You kept your head down, refusing to let him see the hurt mingling with your anger, the betrayal stinging far deeper than the icy water that still clung to your skin. You didn’t stop, didn’t let yourself falter, even as his voice grew louder, pleading, a raw edge of panic breaking through his usual confidence.

Finally, you reached the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory, muttering the password through chattering teeth. The door swung open, and without a second glance, you slipped inside, letting it close firmly behind you, shutting out Mattheo’s voice and the cold night air.

The second you stepped into the Slytherin dorm, you felt the weight of the night crashing down on you, the cold from the lake sinking deeper into your bones with each passing second. Your clothes clung to you, soaked and heavy, and a shiver ran through you, violent and unrelenting, as you forced yourself to move. Your mind was a haze of anger, hurt, and disbelief, but the only thing that mattered now was escaping the chill that had rooted itself in every corner of your being.

You stumbled into your room, tearing off your wet clothes as quickly as your frozen fingers would allow. Each movement was stiff and jerky, and the soaked fabric clung to your skin, making you feel even more trapped in the freezing memory of the lake. Once your clothes lay discarded on the floor in a dark, damp heap, you wrapped yourself in your thickest towel, fighting to regain even the smallest bit of warmth.

You made your way to the shower, barely able to feel the handle as you twisted it, letting the water pour down in steaming torrents. You stepped in, and for a moment, the heat was too much, biting at your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. The warmth seeped over you slowly, each drop thawing the numbness that had settled in your muscles, but it wasn’t enough. No matter how high you turned up the water, no matter how long you let it pour over you, the bone-deep chill remained, lingering stubbornly as if it had become a part of you.

You stood there, shivering beneath the stream, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders, but the anger and hurt refused to dissipate. Your mind kept replaying the scene by the lake—Mattheo’s cold, scornful expression, his sharp, unforgiving words, the sensation of his hand pushing you with that brief, reckless force. It all circled in your thoughts, twisting into a knot of emotions you couldn’t untangle.

Eventually, you turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping yourself in the thickest, warmest clothes you could find—a soft sweater that felt like a hug against your still-chilled skin, thick socks, and an oversized pair of sweats. You wrapped yourself in a blanket, but even then, the cold persisted, gnawing at you from the inside.

Your room was too quiet, too empty, the walls feeling like they were closing in around you. Despite the layers you’d piled on, you couldn’t shake the chill or the anger simmering just beneath the surface. The heat from the shower hadn’t worked, and you needed warmth, real warmth, something solid and grounding to erase the traces of tonight.

Reluctantly, you made your way to the common room, hoping the fire there might finally drive away the cold. As you descended the stairs, the crackling warmth from the hearth grew stronger, and for a brief moment, you felt the tiniest bit of relief.

But as soon as you entered, you saw him.

Mattheo was there, pacing in front of the fire, his face drawn, his shoulders hunched with tension. The sight of him, standing there as though he were waiting for you, sent a fresh wave of anger through you, burning hotter than the fire in the grate. He noticed you immediately, his eyes snapping to yours, an expression of regret flashing across his face.

“Y/N.” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

You held up a hand, cutting him off before he could finish. You couldn’t bear to hear his apologies, his weak attempts to justify what he’d done. Without a word, you turned away from him, heading straight to the fire, sinking down onto the floor in front of it. You wrapped your arms around yourself, staring into the flames, letting their warmth seep into you as you tried to block out his presence.

But Mattheo didn’t leave. He hovered nearby, his footsteps slowing as he stopped his pacing, watching you with a look of guilt and desperation. “Please… just listen to me.” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

You ignored him, keeping your gaze firmly on the flames, focusing on the warmth radiating from them, feeling it ease some of the chill from your skin. But it didn’t touch the cold that had settled in your chest, the bitter feeling of betrayal that refused to fade. The fire was warm, but it wasn’t enough to erase the memory of the lake, the shock of the icy water, the memory of what he’d done.

“Y/N…” Mattheo’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft and filled with a raw, unguarded pain that you’d rarely heard from him. He took a hesitant step forward, as if drawn by something he couldn’t control. “I know I messed up. I know I went too far. But… please. I’m sorry.”

Still, you didn’t respond. The anger simmered in your veins, a fierce, unrelenting heat that fueled you, keeping your silence intact as he stood there, fumbling for words that could never make up for what he’d done.

He moved closer, stopping just a few steps away, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “Please, just say something.” he whispered, his voice raw. “I can’t stand this silence.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth from the fire start to thaw your fingers, though your heart remained cold, guarded against his words. Part of you wanted to lash out, to tell him exactly what you thought, to give voice to the storm of hurt and anger inside you. But another part, the part that was exhausted and worn down by the events of the night, didn’t have the strength for another fight.

You shook your head, focusing on the crackling flames, willing him to leave you alone. But he stayed, watching you, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was holding himself back from reaching out to you.

“Y/N… please.” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.”

Without thinking, you finally looked up, meeting his gaze with a cold, unwavering stare. “Sorry isn’t enough, Mattheo.” you said, your voice low and steady. “You crossed a line.”

He flinched, the words hitting him like a physical blow. He took a shaky breath, his eyes filled with a desperate sadness as he struggled to find a response. But there was nothing he could say to fix this, no apology that could erase what he’d done.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, swallowing any attempt at words. For the first time, you saw Mattheo’s usual mask of arrogance and control slip, his expression turning raw and exposed, like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t come back from. His eyes held a helplessness that made your heart ache, even through the anger and hurt that weighed you down. He seemed utterly lost, each second of your silence stripping away his defences, leaving him with nothing but the heavy weight of his own regret.

After a long, shaky breath, Mattheo glanced around the common room, his gaze landing on a thick blanket draped across one of the couches. He took a moment, seemingly gathering his courage, before reaching for it. Moving slowly, as if afraid of breaking the fragile quiet, he wrapped the blanket over his arm, then walked around to sit behind you. You felt his presence press close, your breath catching as he settled in, his legs framing yours.

Before you could react, he gently placed the blanket over your shoulders and pulled it around both of you, wrapping you in its warmth. He shifted, his body pressed against yours, solid and grounding, and as he leaned forward, you could feel his arms around you, hesitant but steady, his hands holding the edges of the blanket close.

The warmth from his body seeped through the fabric, a stark contrast to the lingering chill in your bones. You wanted to push him away, to reject this unexpected closeness, but something stopped you. Perhaps it was the way his arms encircled you so carefully, or the softness of his breath against your neck, barely audible but full of tension and regret. Whatever it was, a small voice inside you whispered not to move, to let the silence and his presence speak for him in a way that his words couldn’t.

He held you there, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, the warmth radiating from him slowly melting away the last remnants of the lake’s cold grip on you. His body was tense, as if he was bracing himself for rejection, yet he stayed, unmoving, simply allowing you to rest against him.

The anger simmering inside you softened slightly, the edges dulled by the unexpected comfort of his embrace. You felt his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slightly on the blanket as he shifted, drawing you closer. His arms around you felt secure, steady, as if he was trying to hold together what he’d nearly shattered.

He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a rawness you’d never heard from him before. “You’re freezing.” he murmured, and you could feel the tremor in his tone, the guilt that seeped into every word. “I didn’t… I didn’t realise…”

The words hung in the air, unfinished, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud what he already knew—that he’d pushed too far, that he’d let his emotions cloud his judgement in a way that had hurt you. His hand shifted, pressing gently against your arm as he felt the lingering cold beneath your layers, a physical reminder of his mistake.

You felt a surge of conflicting emotions—a part of you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt he’d caused, but his touch, so careful and remorseful, made it harder to keep your walls up. You stayed still, your heart beating a little faster as you leaned back, just slightly, allowing yourself to rest against him, his warmth a balm against the remaining chill.

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice rough, like he was struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry.” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. “For everything… for letting things get so out of hand. I was angry, but that doesn’t make it right.”

His arms tightened around you, and he rested his chin gently against your shoulder, his closeness grounding you in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I don’t know how to explain it.” There was a vulnerability in his tone that you’d never heard before, a crack in his usual confidence that left him exposed.

You swallowed, feeling the last of your anger wane as you listened to him, sensing the weight of his remorse. His head rested against yours, and you could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, as if he was willing you to feel the sincerity in his words through his touch alone.

For a moment, the common room was silent, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the soft, even rhythm of his breathing. You sat there, wrapped in the blanket, cocooned in his warmth, and felt the chill finally start to fade, replaced by an unexpected sense of peace.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a question weighted with all the confusion, hurt, and disbelief that had built up over the night. You felt his arms tighten around you, his grip growing more secure, as if he could keep you there simply by holding on a little closer.

Mattheo took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling slowly behind you. His hesitation was palpable, and for a moment, you thought he might not answer. But then he spoke, his voice low and strained, as if he was forcing himself to admit something he’d kept buried for far too long.

“I can’t bear seeing someone else touch you.” he murmured, the words barely a whisper. “It drives me insane. I want to be the only one to… to be close to you.” He paused, and his hand gently pressed against your arm, as if to make his point clearer. “The thought of someone else being the one you look at, the one you laugh with... I just can’t stand it.”

A quiet sigh escaped him, the sound soft but laced with regret. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, his touch lingering with an intensity that held all the things he struggled to say. “I know I went about it all wrong. I know I hurt you.” His voice dropped, quiet but steady. “But I don’t know how to… how to want you and not ruin it.”

You took a shaky breath, his words sinking in, a strange mixture of relief and frustration settling over you. “If that’s what you wanted…” you said softly, your voice carrying a hint of sadness, “then you went about it in the worst way possible, Mattheo.”

He nodded, his head dipping against yours, the warmth of his breath brushing against your cheek. “I know.” he whispered, his tone filled with a raw honesty that made your heart ache. “I know I messed up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

Your chest tightened, the remnants of your anger softening as you sensed the vulnerability in his words, the way his grip on you seemed to hold a quiet desperation. For all his flaws, for all the anger and tension that had passed between you, there was a part of him that wanted to make things right, even if he didn’t fully know how.

Slowly, you shifted, resting your head gently on his shoulder, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting weight. You turned slightly, just enough to catch his gaze, your eyes meeting his in the flickering glow of the firelight. His expression was guarded, but his eyes held a depth of feeling, a storm of emotions he could no longer hide.

He stared at you, his gaze intense and searching, as though he was trying to understand what you were thinking, what you were feeling. His eyes drifted down, and he bit his lip softly, his brow furrowing in that familiar way that revealed his uncertainty. His fingers tightened their hold, pressing into your arm gently but firmly, as if anchoring himself in the moment.

The tension in the air was thick, and your heartbeat got a little faster, each beat echoing in the silence that had settled between you. You watched as his eyes flickered to your lips, the faintest glimmer of hesitation crossing his face before he met your gaze again, something unspoken lingering in his expression.

He swallowed, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “I don’t deserve this chance… but I want it.” His hand gently traced the curve of your arm, his touch both hesitant and possessive, as if he feared losing you yet couldn’t resist the urge to hold you closer. “I want… us.” he whispered, barely above a breath, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt the vulnerability in his words, the fragile hope beneath the weight of his regret. The warmth of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, made it hard to hold onto your anger, to resist the quiet yearning in his expression. With a soft sigh, you leaned into him, letting your forehead rest against his, feeling his breath mix with yours in the small, shared space.

“Then show me.” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. “If you want this, show me that you can do better. Show me that you can be the one… without hurting me.”

A spark of determination flickered in his eyes as he held you close. “I will,” he promised, his voice raw and unsteady, carrying a weight that seemed to settle in the space between you. His hand lifted slowly, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek as he cupped your face, his touch warm and grounding. He held you there, close and steady, his gaze locked onto yours with a quiet, unyielding intensity that left no doubt—he meant every word.

Ever so slowly, he leaned in. His eyes never left yours, as if giving you a moment to pull away, to say something, to stop him if you wanted to. But your breath caught, and despite every instinct in your mind screaming for you to pull back, you stayed. You could feel his warmth, the softness of his hand cradling your cheek, the gentle brush of his lips as they closed the distance, capturing yours in a kiss that was tender, hesitant—almost as if he were afraid of breaking something fragile.

Your heart pounded, a rush of emotions flooding through you, a confusing tangle of anger, longing, and vulnerability that left you unsure. Part of you wanted to pull away, to hold onto the walls you’d built to keep him out, but another part, buried deep, wanted to melt into the kiss, to allow yourself to feel something other than the hurt he had caused.

His lips moved softly against yours, patient and unhurried, and the gentleness of it surprised you, easing some of the tension in your body. You felt his hand tighten ever so slightly on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that made your heart ache. There was a vulnerability in his kiss, an unspoken apology in the way he held you, and you felt yourself caught between wanting to give in and wanting to guard yourself from any more hurt.

The conflicting emotions churned within you, and your mind remained torn. Every rational thought warned you to pull back, to protect yourself from him and the mess he’d made. But as his lips lingered on yours, soft and sincere, you found it harder to resist the pull, to ignore the gentle urgency in his touch that seemed to plead for forgiveness, for something new.

For a heartbeat, you allowed yourself to lean into him, letting his warmth melt away some of the bitterness and hurt that had settled between you. His other hand moved to rest on your stomach,his touch grounding you, his kiss growing deeper but never forceful, as though he was waiting for you to decide, to choose whether to close the distance or pull away.

Slowly, hesitantly, you shifted, adjusting your body to angle more toward him, opening yourself just slightly, allowing yourself to lean into his touch. The tension in your chest eased bit by bit as you deepened the kiss, surprising him. You felt a subtle, almost inaudible gasp from him, a momentary pause, as if he hadn’t expected you to respond with such openness.

But he didn’t resist; instead, he welcomed you, his hand tightening slightly on your stomach, pulling you closer. His lips softened, responding to the shift in your movements with an eagerness that was barely restrained, as though he, too, was savouring each second, afraid it might slip away.

His fingers brushed gently towards your jaw, trailing down to your neck as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours in the warm, shared space. The world around you faded, leaving only the steady beat of his heart against you, the warmth of his hands, and the gentle, growing intensity of the kiss.

You could feel the weight of his feelings in every touch, each small movement laced with something raw, something real that left you both vulnerable and secure. The hurt and anger that had kept you guarded all night seemed to dissolve with every lingering moment, replaced by a fragile trust, a quiet hope that maybe this was something worth holding onto.

As the kiss deepened, his thumb brushed against your skin in soothing circles, his touch tender and sure, in a way that made your heart race and calm at once. You allowed yourself, for the first time, to let go of the hurt, to let yourself trust the sincerity in his touch. And as you pulled him closer, you felt the edges of something new taking shape between you—an unspoken promise, a chance for something real.

The warmth from the fire, combined with Mattheo’s steady embrace, chased away the last lingering traces of the cold that had seeped into your bones. The biting chill of the lake was a distant memory now, completely overshadowed by the comforting heat radiating from him. Slowly, you felt your muscles relax, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up to you as you leaned against him, your head nestled against his chest. His heartbeat was a gentle rhythm, soothing in its constancy, and as your eyes fluttered shut, you surrendered to the quiet peace that had settled between you.

Mattheo stayed perfectly still, his arms steady around you as if afraid to disturb the fragile calm you’d found together. His hand moved lightly, his fingers tracing a soft, calming pattern on your arm as he watched you begin to drift, your breathing slowing with each passing second. He didn’t say a word, his gaze softening as he took in the peaceful expression on your face, a stark contrast to the tension and anger that had filled the air just an hour ago.

As he felt you lean more heavily against him, he realised you’d fallen asleep, your breath warm against his chest, each exhale slow and steady. For a moment, he simply held you there, savouring the quiet intimacy of the moment, a sense of protectiveness rising within him that he hadn’t fully acknowledged before. The thought of you being hurt, of you feeling even a fraction of the pain he’d caused, stirred something deep within him, something he wanted to make up for, to mend.

With a gentle touch, he shifted, adjusting his position so he could cradle you more comfortably. He moved with the utmost care, sliding his arms beneath you and lifting you slightly, guiding you so that you rested more fully against him. Slowly, he pulled you up onto the couch, his movements tender, cautious, as he settled you on his lap. The blanket was still wrapped around both of you, cocooning you in warmth, and he adjusted it so that you were completely covered, nestled close to him.

You stirred slightly in your sleep, shifting to settle into him more comfortably, your head resting against his shoulder, and he instinctively tightened his hold, cradling you gently. His hand came to rest lightly on your back, his fingers brushing over the fabric of your sweater in a rhythmic, soothing motion.

He let out a quiet breath, his gaze lingering on you with an expression of pure tenderness that he’d rarely allowed himself to show. The walls he’d built, the armour he wore, all of it had faded in this moment, leaving only the raw, unguarded feeling of wanting to keep you safe, to make up for the hurt he’d caused, and to hold you as though you were something precious.

For the first time, he understood just how much you meant to him, and as he sat there, with you asleep in his arms, he made a silent promise—to protect this fragile trust, to be better, to be the person worthy of the trust you’d given him tonight.

He stayed like that, unmoving, his own heartbeat slowing to match yours, as the fire crackled softly beside you. The night stretched on, quiet and peaceful, and he held you close, letting the silence speak for him, his heart holding the words he couldn’t yet say.

The warmth of the fire wrapped around you, lulling you deeper into sleep as you lay comfortably in Mattheo’s arms, his hand resting protectively on your back. He stayed silent, his gaze fixed on you, every inch of his attention focused on the gentle rise and fall of your chest. The common room was peaceful, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the soft murmur of your steady breaths.

But the quiet didn’t last.

The heavy door to the common room creaked open, and Mattheo’s head snapped up. In came Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Daphne, their voices low but filled with curiosity and concern as they stepped inside. They seemed to be in mid-conversation, muttering about the way you’d rushed off earlier and Mattheo’s strange behaviour at the party.

As soon as they saw the two of you on the couch, however, they fell silent, their eyes widening as they took in the sight: you, fast asleep in Mattheo’s arms, wrapped up in a thick blanket with his hand resting gently on your back.

Pansy’s mouth dropped open, her eyebrows shooting up as she nudged Draco, who looked equally stunned but managed to mask it with a small smirk. “Well, isn’t this a sight.” she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Blaise exchanged a quick look with Theo, both of them looking thoroughly amused. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” Blaise murmured, a grin creeping onto his face. “Riddle actually being… soft?”

Mattheo shot them a warning look, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he tightened his hold on you protectively, silently begging them not to wake you. But Theo, never one to let a good opportunity slip by, leaned closer, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Did we miss the part where you finally confessed your undying love, Mattheo?” he whispered, barely able to contain his laughter. “Or was this just a spur-of-the-moment cuddle session?”

Mattheo’s face flushed, and he shot Theo a glare, his voice low and firm. “Shut it, Theodore.” he muttered, his fingers gently tracing your shoulder, as if reassuring himself you were still asleep.

Daphne, usually one to tease, softened as she took in the sight of you nestled peacefully against him. She stepped forward, offering him a small, understanding smile.“It was about time you two figured this out.”

With that, she placed a hand on Pansy’s arm, guiding her toward the staircase. The others exchanged a final round of amused glances, Blaise giving Mattheo a playful salute as they turned to leave, their footsteps fading up the stairs.

Once they were gone, Mattheo let out a quiet sigh, his gaze returning to you. His hand resumed its gentle tracing along your back, his expression softening as he took in the calm, content look on your face. Despite the teasing, he felt a rare sense of peace, as if, for the first time, everything was exactly how it was supposed to be.

He leaned his head back, pulling the blanket tighter around you both, and let the warmth of the fire and your presence lull him into a quiet calm, the world around you slipping away, leaving only the unspoken promise he held in his heart.

Likes, reblogs and comments are always very much appreciated! ♡

© slytherinsmuse. please do not copy, claim, translate or steal any of my works as your own.

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Thinking about the "Do you Feel Safe Tape"

Honestly we should talk about the different reactions to 'who do you trust' a bit more.

Wooly - Wooly seems surprised that you trust him. I couldn't help but think it's partly because we like seem to like Amanda and Amanda hates him. Also considering Amanda doesn't trust him, he probably hasn't had anyone say they trusted him in a very long time and it was probably shocking. Then Amanda tells us she felt that way a long time ago and Wooly looks sad. I've noticed throughout the game that he seems to get sad whenever Amanda talks about not liking him anymore. He gets immediately sad when Amanda says that you have to think about who you can trust, before she even mentions. I think whatever he did to break her trust, he might actually feel really bad about it. (I can point out other moments he's done this too if you want). But what else is interesting is that Amanda trusted Wooly at some point. She didn't hate him from the start, something happened to change their relationship. I can't help but feel it was "recent" considering the events of the first game. Considering both Amanda and Wooly's reactions to Wooly coming back to life, I'd assume Amanda has never hated Wooly enough before to try killing him. When I say recent, I mean possibly during the years that Kate was watching the tapes and talking with Amanda.

Personally, I think both Amanda and Wooly unintentionally played a part in Kate's death and Hameln finding her. Considering Amanda's reactions to us saying "Hameln" I think they might still be monitoring Amanda and Wooly. I think that by interacting very directly with her (saying her name and stuff) could have helped them discover her identity and put her in danger. Which is not directly related to anything in this post (I mean it could be, but I'd need more evidence). That said, it's possible that him getting in the way of them remembering (once they started to gain back their memories) was exactly why she stopped trusting him. . But I think the important takeaway here is she did trust him at some point, and he feels bad that he broke that trust.

Kate: Amanda trusted Kate, and wishes she could still talk to her. Kate was one of the last people who knew Amanda when she was Rebecca. (well, positive relationships at least) Think about it. Sam is MIA. All the other librarians who knew her are DEAD. Any friends she had in school or whatever are definitely full grown adults if they didn't get trapped in the show (idk, like if they were watching it cuz it was their friends show or whatever). Every person we know who knew Amanda is probably dead now. Kate was the last one. Now that she remembers, she keeps saying she wishes she could still talk to Kate whenever we mention her, and Wooly looks like he feels bad. Now that she remembers who she was. Now that she remembers Rebecca, she wants to talk with Kate, maybe the way they used to. That could be why she's so angry with him. Why she tried to kill him AFTER they found Kate died (in the Wooly's birthday tape) but had only hurt him when they realized Riley was watching the tapes and not Kate (in the original in your neighborhood tape). Wooly might've caused her to miss her chance to talk to one of the few people who knew her as Rebecca. That was recent though, I think she lost trust in him over time as he kept blocking her attempts to reach out to Kate

Sam: She says Sam was trusting too, and that can be a mistake. She sounds so sad here, like she is going to cry. I think this confirms that Amanda doesn't hold any malice towards Sam about what happened. She understands that both of them were tricked. So idk, I guess any theories involving Amanda hating Sam for what happened are debunked now?

Hameln: Saying Hameln immediately makes Amanda stop trusting us. Wooly looks scared of Amanda yelling (as always) but I noticed he also looks kind of angry? Offended? Annoyed? I can't really tell cuz the tape gets really blurry. I've seen people say that Wooly doesn't react to the meatman or Hameln, but I think he does it's just more subtle. I don't know what else to say here, the clip goes by so fast.

Meatman: Again, both of them react to this. Amanda immediately gets pissed. And like, reasonably so. I've heard that the game won't let you progress past this point if you do this apparently, so like... the meatman is serious. Wooly looks shocked and then immediately motions at us not to say that. But like, it's a different surprise then when you answer "Wooly" he seems horrified. Like this is a pretty messed up thing to say. I'm not 100% sure what the meatman's deal is but like... both Amanda and Wooly seem to dislike him in the first and second game. Also is it just me or is it kind of odd that they only dislike the butcher? Like, there are variants of him in all the shops in the first game and Wooly and Amanda don't really seem to mind him, but they both don't like being in the butcher's. When only the meatman's buildings appear, Wooly looks pretty concerned, and then really scared when they enter, and asks her to take them someplace else. Amanda has a full-blown meltdown over not wanting to go in and when we enter she screams at us to let her out. I find this scene interesting because I don't think either of them are in control. Wooly is trying to distract her from Kate's death (or at least that's what I think the "something bad happened" means) by going a bit off-script and controlling the story a little. It doesn't seem like he was the one who messed with the stores. Amanda didn't either. What if this was the meatman? Like... punishing them for going off script by like reminding them of his looming presence or whatever? Idk. That whole scene was WEIRD in hindsight. Even though we never enter the butcher shop in the second game, his presence looms over us the entire time. Almost makes me think he's the real one put in their too keep the kids under control. They are both terrified of him after all and he seems to be connected with the surgeon who trapped them in there. Sorry this got a bit on topic but I think I might be getting somewhere.

But let's move on to the answers for the "what scares you" question.

"Amanda" or "you" - Question, has anyone tried Rebecca? I've only seen the answer compilations use "amanda" or "you". Amanda breaks our heart here by being hurt that after all this time we're still afraid of her. Ouch.

Hameln - Amanda gets terrified and says not to bring them up. I think Hameln is definitely watching these tapes.

Meatman - Wooly finally reacts to something, and bro is freaked out. Idk if it's by the mention of the meatman, Amanda's anger or both. Honestly, I have no idea why her anger spells still freak them out. I guess it is pretty scary, but I feel like he should be used to it at this point. Also she can't kill him, so what is he afraid of? He doesn't seem to be worried about being the one who makes her angry anymore, but he still gets freaked out when we do it? Weird. Anyway, I find it interesting that Amanda has spent the whole first game trying to tell us all about what happened, but she draws the line at the meatman and Hameln. Wooly wasn't there to stop her before, and she still didn't want to discuss it. Honestly, it doesn't feel like she's been as eager to tell us much in this game, despite trusting us. I mean she's told us plenty about Sam and Kate, so I don't think it's that she doesn't trust us. I think she doesn't want to remember things about Hameln or the meatman. She wanted to remember who she was, she wanted to remember Sam, she wanted to remember Kate and she wanted to know what happened to her... but somehow she draws the line here. Then we see the glitches of the surgery room and the mouth. I really do agree with the theories that the meatman is connected with the people who put her and Wooly into the show. That said... why is he there? That's what I don't get. I think I might be cooking with my earlier theory though no?

Wooly - Odd. He doesn't even look hurt, just confused. We can clearly see here that Amanda is not at all afraid of Wooly, so like I don't think he's like a Hameln worker. The meatman absolutely is though. We are not hating on the meatman enough guys. DOWN WITH THAT- Anyway.

Actually the whole point of this post was to talk about what Amanda says about how we were a stranger when we met her. I think this is really important to note. Because Amanda knew Kate long before she was Amanda. Possibly before "Amanda the Adventurer" even came to be. Of course Amanda trusted her. But she didn't know Riley. She tells us that she trusts us. This is HUGE. I mean, considering everything Amanda has been through. She barely knows us. She has EVERY DANG REASON not to trust us. Heck, I think that could be what Wooly means when he says she shouldn't talk to strangers. Because "not talking to strangers" doesn't make sense in this context. The viewer is a stranger, but if they didn't ever interact with the viewer they wouldn't have a show so Wooly's comment makes no sense. And yet, despite everything, she trusts us. Wooly looks kinda sad when she says she trusts us, probably because she trusted him once too, now she won't listen to a thing he says.

Then Joanne (I swear to god I got so mad at her in this scene) calls us and Amanda looks kind of sad when she hears that. Then looks really sad when Joanne says "that thing" I think Joanne was referring to the Wooly monster but Amanda doesn't know that. Then the possum appears and they both get really mad at it (and us for letting it mess with them). It's made very clear that both of them genuinely don't know who this guy is. It's funny because usually Amanda is the one asking us to get rid of him but this time it's Wooly.

And then let's talk about how COORDINATED THESE TWO WERE OMG. All it took was a look and a nod and they were already on the same page. If we don't help them, they manage to beat this guy up all on their own and mind you, not a single word is exchanged of a plan, they just work together. They just do it. And they do it so freaking well. Remember my Hameln theory? About how Hameln doesn't want these two on the same team because you know... two kids who can control demons who have every reason to hate Hameln and then there's THIS. When they get along they work so freaking well together. Could you imagine if they both decided to team up with their demons and beat the crap out of Hameln? Is there even a chance to be stood here? Honestly, I was also thinking, I think Hameln picked whoever Wooly is specifically for his avoidant personality, knowing that these two would clash. But clearly they don't have to.

Oh yeah, then they both get pissed AT US. I don't think we've actually seen Wooly get THIS mad at us. Like there was the time in the storybook tape but like he was not this mad. He's like... Amanda level mad here. Then they pick up the possum and throw him in the trash with still very minimal communication and ALL THE COORDINATION.

Then in the version where we do help, Amanda actually agrees with Wooly's sentiment that some strangers CAN be scary. Then without a word they both pick him up and throw him in the trash. BRO THE COORDINATION BETWEEN THESE TWO WHEN THEY WORK TOGETHER IS INSANE I NEED MORE OF IT ITS SO SMOOTH AND PLEASANT TO WATCH. Then Wooly asks if they can go home and Amanda playfully teases him "What are you scared?" Then he kinda makes this face like "yeah kinda" and she's like "c'mon let's go." she sounds a lot less annoyed with his presence then usual. Like still annoyed but also like she's kinda okay with it?

This deserves it's whole entire own post but like... I feel like gradually their relationship has improved over the course of this game. Like Amanda still doesn't trust him, there's still some rough stuff they need to work through, but she's starting to let him in again. Just a little. She's more okay with him being there. And I think people tend to overlook this when they say Wooly is evil. If Wooly was evil, why are they starting to get along again, (I mean they aren't besties again but like it's definitely a start and you can't ignore that.) Shouldn't Amanda continue to hate his guts? Instead she's actually agreed with him on some things, and they've helped each other out a bit. Like I said this is probably going to get it's own post at some point so I'll leave it here for now.

Holy crap did you actually read all this? OMG thanks. I did not realize I wrote so much WOW. BTW, I was watching those "all answers" videos along with a zero-commentary playthrough of the original so like, I'm not pulling this from memory at all.

[cityofmeliora]

the Terzo autism post ♾️

this is kind of an analysis post and kind of a headcanon post.

Terzo reads as autistic to me, especially during his first two concerts when he was speaking without a script and trying to figure things out.

Terzo has that "trying new things is scary and i need to feel like i'm getting a good grade at social interactions and everything has to be done correctly or i'm going to explode" flavor of autism.

[AFTER PERFORMING PRIME MOVER] PAPA EMERITUS III: How am I doing so far? I've been studying these moves so you would feel comfortable. Are you comfortable? Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

Terzo says he studied the choreography for 'Prime Mover' so the audience would feel comfortable. he's trying to do what people expect, and he keeps checking if he's doing alright and asking the audience if they like what he's doing.

[BEFORE PERFORMING ABSOLUTION] PAPA EMERITUS III: So, we're gonna finish this off with something as weird as a new song. What that delighting, or did you not like that? Yes. Good, good. Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: So, I know it might seem a little confusing –it's even a little confusing to me, sometimes– y'know, playing new songs for people who've never heard these songs. But I tell you what– we have a really good ending song that you will understand why it is an ending song when you hear it. But now it might seem a bit strange, huh? Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

Terzo feels weird about performing new music because it's new and the audience doesn't know what to expect and neither does he. he keeps trying to assure the audience that it'll be okay. but i'm pretty sure he was the only person worried about it. he was about to release a new album, so it completely made sense that he would be performing new songs. he just hates not knowing what to expect, and it doesn't occur to him that not everyone thinks like him.

and then this clip... i think it speaks for itself, but let's talk about it anyway. (i included the audio because i really want people to hear him speaking here.)

PAPA EMERITUS III: Okay! We are now officially wrapping– with a song. It's not a rap song, though. [STUTTERS FOR SEVERAL SECONDS] I've heard from my brother that you are somewhat of a singing crowd. So you like singing, eh? That is fantastic because that is exactly what we're gonna do right now, and if you had said no, that would have been… weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

like where do i even start with this. him thinking he needs to clarify he's not going to be rapping. the stuttering. the fact that he listens to what Secondo tells him so he knows what to expect. him saying "[...] if you had said no, that would have been... weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is."

he feels like a weirdo and he just wants things to be normal so bad. 😭

he also gets really irritated when people are incorrect / do things incorrectly. he has the literal / rigid thinking patterns characteristic of autistic people

PAPA EMERITUS III: Well, it's getting late. AUDIENCE: NOOO! PAPA EMERITUS III: Yes! It's not a matter of opinion. It is getting late. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

he tells the audience it is objectively true that it is getting late.

then there's the whole bit where he wants people to clap along to the music but he hates it if people clap wrong or don't clap with the correct rhythm.

and the bit where he asks the audience to say "Meliora" and emphasizes the correct pronunciation versus the incorrect pronunciation.

Terzo strikes me as someone who is constantly trying to perform a very intentionally constructed social personality, not only as an entertainer but as a person. and while he's naturally charismatic and charming, it's actually quite difficult for him to perform this public personality because he's constantly concerned with getting a good grade in social interactions and things being done correctly.

and there are all the quotes about Terzo being a recluse who only interacts with others as much as is strictly necessary. this is definitely clinical depression, but i think his autism is also a factor.

he got comfortable once he settled into a routine and created a script that he could repeat, though. after that, he was really on autopilot during his concerts. which is also so so autistic of him <3

[redrose10]

This was a request for fake dating with Jungkook and prompt #40 I think I have always been in love with you for @yoongznme. I hope you like it!

< Lemonade >

Warnings: Hints of body insecurities

#40 “I think, I have always been in love with you.”

*******************************************************

“I’m sorry what?”, you asked them to repeat themselves for the third time still not believing what you were hearing. When your boss asked to have a word with you about a promotion you thought it would include a few extra responsibilities and hopefully a much needed raise because being a makeup artist for an award winning kpop group did not really pay as well as you’d think.

You never expected to be told that you would be pretending to be Jungkook’s girlfriend though. It was some crazy plan that the company’s PR team came up with after he had recently gotten some bad press over something dumb and out of his control but at the end of the day it was still bad press effecting numbers which effected profit.

They thought that it would be a good idea to make it look like he was a loving, sweet, devoted boyfriend who could do no wrong. Somehow or another your name got thrown in the mix because you yourself were nice, polite, and you had this kind of the good girl next door thing that they were looking for.

You were nervous to say the least. Jungkook was attractive, no one would deny that. He was also always very kind and thoughtful when you interacted and you definitely had a small crush on him but you were a professional and knew not to let your emotions get in the way of your work plus there’s no way a global superstar would ever actually want to date a struggling makeup artist.

However you agreed, though you had the suspicion you really didn’t have a choice anyways if you wanted to stay employed, and they told you to be back at the building tomorrow night at 8pm.

So you did just that. You were in the dress one of the stylist left for you and you’d done your makeup and hair. Jungkook was styled perfectly as usual and he smelled so warm and comforting as he gave you a hug, “You look really nice Y/N.”

“Thank you.”, you whispered hoping he couldn’t see you blush.

The plan was to drive over to a very well known hotspot for dinner. Idols frequented the place constantly so there was also a stream of paparazzi and fans trying to catch a glimpse.

When you arrived the amount of people shocked you. As soon as Jungkook appeared there were earth shattering screams and so many flashes of light you couldn’t see a foot in front of you.

“Y/N, just stay close behind me.”, he said taking your hand and helping you out of the car while making sure to block the view of the cameras so you could get out comfortably in your dress.

Once you were in view the screams got even louder although maybe angrier. The camera flashes definitely increased though giving you a headache. The bodyguards began to push through the crowd with Jungkook close behind, his hand tightly gripping yours as you tried to keep up.

Inside, the restaurant was significantly calmer which you appreciated. Jungkook sipped on his beer while you stuck to a lemonade.

“I’m sorry the company is making you go through this.”, he said finally after a bout of silence.

“It’s okay. They’re paying me quite a bit so it’s worth it.”, you chuckled not noticing the slight grimace on his face.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. Jungkook was a great guest and you relaxed enjoyed hearing about his travels and all the funny stories he had, especially the one about Yoongi tripping and falling face first into a cake that Namjoon had decided to leave sitting on the living room floor for some strange reason. He showed you a picture of Yoongi’s face covered in frosting and you couldn’t wait to tease him about it when you saw him next.

After dinner the crowd outside had died down a little bit was still enough that you had to put on an act. Jungkook pulled you close against him as he took you outside and right into the waiting vehicle where he continued to hold you against him even as the car sped off. It sent a wave of emotions through you so you made sure to create a little bit of space between you both just to remind yourself that none of this was real.

It looked like the plan was working perfectly because the next morning there were several headlines questioning who was the cute woman Jungkook was photographed with last night. The fans were also loosing their minds over it, posting over and over about speculations and rumors. You did your best to try and avoid most of them because while a good chunk were generally in favor of the relationship there were still many, mostly fans, that were not happy about Jungkook possibly being in a relationship. This resulted in you seeing some hurtful words about yourself m before deciding to log out of all of your social medias.

The next several weeks were filled with much of the same. Various stages photo ops took place so that fans and photographers could catch moments between you both. When the rumors finally started to become out of hand the company released an official statement confirming the relationship between Jungkook and you, a sweet, down to earth makeup artist that he had fallen madly in love with. The media and fans lost their minds.

You went into this whole thing thinking it would be easy. You were getting a big payday to basically hangout with Jungkook and let your photo get taken. You didn’t expect for your crush to grow into being full on in love with him but it was hard not to fall. He was so incredibly thoughtful and sweet. He was always ordering you lunch or bringing you a coffee even when the cameras weren’t around. When your cat needed an unexpected emergency surgery he paid for it in full after overhearing you cry to one of your friends about how you couldn’t afford it. He was always telling you how pretty you looked or complimenting your clothes with a slight hint of a blush on his cheeks. When you were visiting a friend and missed the last bus and you called him as a last resort hoping he could ask the company to send a car he drove over an hour at 2am to personally pick you up himself while staying on the phone with you the whole time so that you wouldn’t be scared.

After a few months of this it was getting harder and harder to remind yourself this wasn’t real.

Up until this point things were going great. Your relationship was doing exactly what the PR team had hoped. People pretty much completely forgot about his previous scandal and were focused on how he was a sweet and generous boyfriend. His image had never been better.

Then there was an incident. Jungkook was very protective always keeping you close to him. Even when the bodyguards reminded him that they were there for your protection as well he still insisted on personally seeing to your safety.

So one morning you were set to board a flight to New York. Of course the entrance to the air port was packed full of paparazzi and fans all screaming and trying to get photos and videos of you two. The airport had put up barriers but with the amount of people all pushing and shoving some of the barriers got knocked down allowing the crowd to surge in.

Security did their best to surround you guys and get you through the crowd but they were greatly outnumbered.

Thanks to the loud noises and flashing lights and amount of people surrounding you it all became too much and you began to panic. You held onto Jungkook, squeezing his hand that was interlocked with yours to try and ground yourself and remind yourself that you were okay.

“It’s okay Y/N. I’ve got you. We’ll get through this.”, he said trying to comfort you.

The crowd surged forward again. Thanks to your blurry vision and panic you aren’t sure exactly what happened but somehow you tripped ending up on the floor. You were trying to get up fast before you got trampled on but you kept getting pushed and shoved down until you felt someone grab your waist and pull you up. Instantly you recognized the familiar cologne and tucked your face into Jungkook’s shoulder as he quickly pulled you through the rest of the airport.

On the plane where it was quiet and safe you started full on crying. You felt so silly but you couldn’t hold it in any more.The fear and anxiety became too much.

Jungkook came over handing you a bottle of water and some ice for your bruised knee. He rubbed soothing circles on your back as the plane took off, “It’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“It’s not your fault. You did everything you could.”, you whispered starting to feel a little better.

After a while you managed to fall asleep and take a small nap. When you woke up Jungkook was still sitting next to you. He was staring intently at your face.

“Stop looking at me. I’m always so ugly when I wake up.”, you chuckled feeling much better than earlier.

“Impossible. You are never ugly Y/N.”, he whispered.

He was fidgeting with his shoe lace. Something you had picked up on being a nervous habit of his.

“Hey Kook, is there something on your mind?”, you asked.

He waited a moment before nodding, “When we get back from New York I’m going to tell the company that we need to end this fake dating thing. I can’t do it any more.”

You felt like you wanted to cry again but you swallowed it down because maybe he thought you were too weak or why would he want to be with the girl who tripped an embarrassed herself and himself, “O-Okay. It’s up to you.”

“I just…I’m so selfish”, he chuckled, “I’m not going to keep putting you in danger though. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you Y/N, especially if it was my fault. What happened back at the airport…that was a wake up call. I’m sorry I ever suggested this.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion., “What do you mean you suggested this?” You were under the impression this was all the companys PR team but now it seems like he had a part of it.

His cheeks turned a bright red before he ran a hand through his already messy hair, “Well I guess I might as well come clean now.”, he turned his body to look at you fully, “Y/N when the company suggested this fake dating thing I was against it at first. But then…then I thought maybe I could use it as an excuse to spend more time with you. I’ve always thought you were really cute and sweet and kind and I had a bit of a crush on you. So I convinced them to get you to be the woman I fake dated. I was too shy to ask you to hang out so I thought it was a way to spend time with you and get to know you better.”, he made eye contact with you for a brief moment and you could see the fear in them. He continued, “I think I have always been in love with you. I love you more and more every day.”, your heart was practically beating out of your chest at his confession. You tried to stop him but he continued, “And that’s why we have to end this. I don’t want you getting hurt because of me. You don’t deserve this.”

He looked as if he was about to cry and it made you want to just cuddle him and make everything go away. Instead you chose to grab his hand and hold it on your lap, “Jungkook I love you too. I have for quite a while. Honestly, I didn’t think you would ever see me like that so I thought this was all your company’s idea.”, his shoulders seemed to relax a little at your words so you went on, “I know that dating you comes with lots of hardships but I think the positives greatly outweigh those negatives and I don’t mind going through them. If…if you want to I would like to continue to date you, but maybe actually date and not fake date anymore.”, you chuckled.

That got a big smile out of him too which warmed your heart. “I would love to keep dating you Y/N.”, he nodded. You cuddled in closer to him spending the rest of the flight talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s presence.

When the plane landed he had already arranged for a car to pick you up straight from the tarmac so that you wouldn’t have to endure the stress of walking through the airport with him again.

When he finally made it out front and jumped into the car he smiled at seeing your face, “I missed you Y/N.”, he then leaned in and kissed you like it was nothing new. “You already got into the lemonade didn’t you.”, he chuckled after tasting it on your lips.

“Kook we were only separated for like ten minutes and of course I did. You know lemonade is my favorite.”, you giggled.

He leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder, “Doesn’t matter. It was ten minutes too long.”

You gave the top of his head a kiss as the car sped off to your new destination.